• Published 18th Jul 2015
  • 541 Views, 3 Comments

For Unofficial Use Only - Vermilion and Sage



A collection of documents detailing all the things that Celestia's administration would really rather you not know about happening in the royal guard.

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Between the Walls

//FUUO//

Stable Sergeant Smiles was probably named by a very optimistic mother. She'd likely hoped that her little baby pegasus would grow up as a friendly colt and become a stallion surrounded by good company, gracious and happy at every turn. Then when she grew old, he'd be there, a kind face there when she needed company in the evening of her life.

She couldn't have picked a worse name for him.

"So," growled the sergeant in a voice like wet gravel being dredged over cold stone, "I finished reviewing your complaints, corporal."

"You did?!"

Corporal Livid Lance on the other hoof, was named by very wise (but either lazy or lax) parents. A unicorn indignant even from an time before he could say 'mad', the corporal was still rump-rustled over being ousted from his home at the tender age of twenty-four to go pay for his own living. One job after another had ended due to his inability to suffer their standard working conditions, until nothing remained at entry level other than to enlist in the guard. Through a time-honored triumvirate of lies, blue-falconry, and rump-kissing, he'd made it to the rank of junior NCO.

"All fourteen of them, yes." Half a ream of paper fell from the sergeant's grip to smack the oak grain desk with a hefty thump. "According to standard protocol, after three consecutive forms, I am required to ask you for a verbal statement of grief and an affirmation of all the forms you turned in."

"Well..." Lance inhaled, righteous fury burning in his chest, "Four days ago, Corporal Stonewall showed blatant disregard for proper decorum and chain of command in my presence. I respectfully corrected him, but he became belligerent, and insulted me personally. I can not bear to see our beloved guard demeaned in such a way!"

"I see." Smiles stood and slowly plodded over to close his door. "I hope you know, corporal, that I take all complaints very seriously. Especially when they concern poor military behavior."

"I agree, Stable Sergeant! I am senior in the rank of corporal by sixteen days of Stonewall, and should not have to suffer such lambasting at his hooves!"

A few more prods of the sergeant's armor-shod hoof ensured the soundproofing spell for classified discussion was enabled, ensuring nopony would hear any of the further conversation. Lance felt his heart thud with anticipation. He knew this moment, where the official would take his story, give him credit and distinction, and ensure good favor.

"Well then, do you wish to formally affirm the complaints you have submitted?"

Taking a deep breath, Lance puffed himself up even further. "I sure do! Furthermore, I volunteer to carry out disciplinary actions to Corporal Stonewall."

The sergeant let out a grim chuckle. “Oh I’m sure you would.”

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Stonewall hurried over toward the last bench in the row, tightly clenching a tray piled with steaming red goodness between his teeth. Mixed hints of tomato, basil, and grain all left to cook twelve hours too long wafted into his nostrils and left flecks of drool on the tray. It was slipping by the time he skidded to a halt at his seat. All around him armored hooves clanged on the concrete floor and boisterous discussions filled the wide open hall with cacophony.

“You trying to digest your food before it even gets to your mouth?” The guardspony across the table chuckled as a mass of saliva splashed onto the table, followed by the tray. Stonewall worked his tired jaw a few times.

“Aww, stuff it, Haft. I don’t have a magical horn like you. You’re just jealous I can actually stomach this stuff.”

Haft Hold nodded somberly, twirling his spoon around in a small bowl of ‘Tomato Tuesday Terror,’ slowly stirring the seeds and solid chunks to one side of the mush. Next to him, a new recruit by the name of Tagalong had already emptied his bowl, and was trying to stare anywhere other than at Haft’s spoon. It wasn’t working.

“You should just give him it. You don’t ever eat your terror.” Stonewall paused, spoon halfway to his mouth to give a knowing look to Haft. Tagalong was slowly starting to jitter, fueled by the prospect of enough calories to maintain his massive frame.

Haft sighed and levitated his bowl up to slop the vegetable gruel into the recruit’s bowl, earning a squee shortly cut off by food inhalation as soon as the mush finished falling. Typical for any new recruit out of training, Tagalong managed to finish his entire bowl before Stonewall had consumed a half-dozen bites.

“You’re allowed to taste it, you know?” demanded Haft. Not getting any answer, he sighed and reached into his bags for a small tin of crackers.

The faint screech of metal tearing open atop the tin was loud, far too loud to be heard over the normal bustle of dinner.

“Whoa, did you beat up Lance?” asked Tagalong.

Both of the junior guards were looking over at the chow line. Most everypony else was doing the same. Conversations started again as a mass of whispers, quickly building to a clamor louder than before.

“What?” Stonewall craned his neck to see what all the commotion was about. Livid Lance was limping up to the back of the chow line, staring straight at the floor. Both of his eyes had dark rings around them.

“Whoa…” muttered Tagalong. “What the hell happened to him?”

Stonewall finished savoring the pasty texture for a few moments, then made to educate the newcomer.

“Well a few days back he made fun of me in a not-so-fun way for being an earth pony. Well, Tag, you’ll learn real quick just to give that crap right back. He swore revenge after I told him not to get his horn stuck in the ceiling. Guess he just likes to pick fights or something. I didn’t beat him up, though. Haven’t talked to him since then, actually.”

Up near the line, the cook started ringing a large bell, and bellowed out for everypony to hear. “SECONDS!”

Faster than a pegasus fleeing a dragon, Tagalong was sprinting toward the chow line, while Haft slowly lifted another cracker into his mouth with as much dignity as he could muster.

//FUUO//