• Published 17th Nov 2016
  • 2,915 Views, 91 Comments

The Prisoner of Zebra - Tumbleweed

Flash Sentry: hero, heart breaker ... and self-admitted coward. For the first time, he details his own undeserved rise to heroism (as well as the trouble such a reputation brings him) in his own words.

  • ...

Flash Sentry and the Terrible Tower of Terror

The war room was less dank and drafty than the dungeon-- but just barely. At least some thoughtful aide de camp kept filling my mug with hot coffee (even though she ignored me whenever I asked for brandy instead).

It says something about the national character of Perchertania that they had a war room to begin with. To judge by the grim faces on the ponies hunched around a map-piled table, the Perchertanian military still thought soldiering was an opportunity to go out and get oneself horribly maimed in pursuit of 'glory,' instead of an excuse to wear snappy uniforms for far more measurable benefits with any willing fillies that might've been about.

Not that there were any willing fillies about. The Perchertanian military was egalitarian, in that it allowed stern looking ponies of either gender to enter their ranks.* However, whenever I put a little extra charm in my smile (by reflex, mostly), the uniformed ladies just glared at me in ways that made Golden Harvest seem absolutely charming in comparison.

*The Perchertanian military has long prided itself on its meritocracy. In fact, it was one of the first armies in the Equestrian sphere to allow stallions into its higher ranks.

As for Golden Harvest herself, she fit into the war room as easily as any scarred old general. She propped one hoof on the edge of the table, and used the other to point at a particular point of the map. Airic and Vizier leaned in curiously, along with several other martial-looking ponies whose names I didn't know.

“Here.” Golden Harvest looked up at the officers present. “According to my sources, a swarm of Changelings have built their hive at the center of the Great Dingy Swamp. That's where they'll take their prisoners.”

“That's where the real Prince Percheron is?” Airic said, standing up a little taller.

“If we're lucky, yes.” Golden Harvest met Airic's gaze, grim.

“Then it's settled. I can have a brigade surrounding this hive by morning.”

“Wait.” Vizier held up a hoof. “A frontal assault would be unwise. What if the Changelings panic, and harm Princess Ianthe?”

“Or Prince Percheron.” Airic added on, snippy.

“Or him.” Vizier said, cool and condescending as ever.

“Vizier's right.” Golden Harvest said, glancing between the both of them. “The Changelings built their hive in the swamp for a reason. Any surface-based approach will fail without support.”

“So what do you propose?” Airic said.

“We press our advantages. Changelings can fly like pegusai-- but they can't manipulate the weather. I say we get every flyer we can, and push a thunderhead right on top of them. That'll occupy the bugs long enough for an extraction team to get in and secure the royals. Both of them.”

“I'll go.” Airic said, quick enough before anypony else could object. “The impostor will come with me.” He added on before I could object. “If nothing else, we can use him as a distraction, make the Changelings think we've already rescued Prince Percheron. Once the Prince and Princess are secure, we'll demolish the hive.”

“Right.” Golden Harvest nodded. “I'll lead the surface team. We'll need boats to get through the swamp, and then a way to get through the walls.”

“We have sappers in the army. They can bring the whole tower down, once the Prince and Princess are safe.” Airic said, without hesitation.

“My guard contingent shall also provide assistance.” Vizier said.

“Sounds like a plan.” Golden Harvest's lips turned up in the most genuine smile I'd ever seen cross her face.

I didn't like it.

Within a matter of hours, Airic and Vizier had marshalled their respective forces, closing in on the Great Dingy Swamp. Said swamp was aptly named-- it was a great smear of brown and green, stretching out in all directions. On the one hoof, I at least was far above the swamp proper, perched on a thunderhead being rolled in by the Perchertanian air force. On the other, the fetid smell of rotting vegetation was strong enough to reach even my lofty perch.

A large lake took sat in the middle of the Great Dingy Swamp, with a small island in the center of that. And, sure enough, a mottled gray tower rose from the center of the island, looking for all the world like a massive tumor.

The hive.

Below, several small, shallow-bottomed boats slid across the glassy lake, silent. I wondered which of the skiffs Golden Harvest would be on. Knowing her, it was probably the one in front. No matter which boat she was on, however, she at least wasn't breathing down my neck.

Though Airic wasn't much better.

He stood next to me on the cloud, watching the boats surround the little island. “Get ready. We'll go in soon.” Airic said.

“'We' is something of a strong word, don't you think?” I scratched at the back of my neck. “I mean, it looks like you've got this all well in hoof. I'll keep an eye on things up here. You know. In reserve.”

Airic leveled his eyes on mine, and grit his teeth. “If you don't follow me, my troops have orders to blast you out of the sky.”

I looked over my shoulder, and sure enough, there was a ruddy-coated pegasus sitting on a weapons-grade thunderhead, giving me the evil eye.

“'We' it is, then.” I nervously drew a line in the gray cloud, and looked down at the lake below. “Ah … one thing, though.” I blurted as an odd thought came to mind.


“How'd you know I wasn't the real prince?”

“I just … knew.” Airic huffed. “You're a terrible actor anyway.”

“I bet it was the scars, wasn't it?” I rubbed at the side of my face. The scars still itched. “Not in the right place?”

“It doesn't matter.”

“I think it does. Especially with the two of us about to infiltrate a tower full of shapechanging bug monsters.”

“You talk too much.”

“And you haven't answered my question.”

“Time to move.” Airic signalled his troops. A flight wing of pegusai put their shoulders into it, and draped a grey blanket of clouds over the hive. More ponies flew in with small, densely-packed clouds, and wasted little time in raining lightning bolts down all around the changeling's island.

“Go!” Airic said, and leapt off of the cloud. Not wanting to see if he really meant what he said about his orders, I soon followed suit. I pulled my wings in close to my sides and angled in for a dive-- perhaps not in Wonderbolt-worthy formation, close enough. The two of us sliced through the gray cloud cover, and splayed our wings out at the last moment to keep from smashing into the roof of the changeling hive.

All four of my hooves dug furrows through the top of the surface of the hive, until I tripped over something slightly more solid than whatever changelings typically build their homes out of, causing me to flop gracelessly upon my face. Airic didn't laugh at my misfortune, which probably means he was a better pony than I. Not like such a thing is particularly hard (what, with the cowardice and lechery and so on), but still.

I snorted the smell of wet mud and lightning-seared ozone from my nostrils, and got myself upright again-- just in time to see Airic galloping through an uncomfortably orifice-shaped entrance into the hive proper. Another bolt of lightning slammed into the hive, close enough to tingle the very tip of my tail. I scrambled to follow Airic and get out of the line of fire.

One of my teachers used to go on about the perfection of the beehive, on how such tiny insectoid minds could somehow produce such geometric perfection. As I plunged into the depths of the changeling hive, I wasn't sure if the twisted, sickeningly-organic curvatures of changeling architecture proved or disproved her theory. The slick walls looked as if they had melted halfway-- just looking around the inside of the hive was enough to make my stomach turn. The sickly smell of rotting vegetation hung heavy in the air didn't help much, either.

Thunder roiled above, and a chunk of sticky-looking hivestuff exploded as a lightning bolt struck. Another blast followed it, and then another, and another still, as Airic's cloud-artillerists hammered away at the hive-fortress.

Eardrum-threatening screeching erupted from within the hive, and black, chitinous forms began to scramble from hidden nooks and crannies throughout the hive. A changeling pushed through a trapdoor in the floor in front of me-- I brought both forehooves down on its forehead by reflex. I flared my wings and vaulted over the bug, not waiting to see how much damage I'd done to it.

A chaos of buzzing wings and clicking mandibles echoed all around me-- if the Changelings had any sense of coordination, they would've overwhelmed Airic and I within moments. But with bolt after bolt tearing through the hive, they had far more important things to worry about. They started swarming upwards towards the roof, no doubt ready to give the Perchertanian pegasi what for. But, as soon as the first few started to fly out into the night sky, a fresh set of rumbles rolled up from below-- no doubt Golden Harvest and the sappers getting to work. This only led to more confusion amongst the chittering horde. Several changelings began to careen into each other as they veered off in random directions, torn between heading outside (where they'd get blown to bits) or heading deeper into the hive (where they'd get blown to bits slightly later).

Airic dashed down a darkened corridor, and it wasn't until I saw the very tip of his tail disappear around the corner that I realized Golden Harvest hadn't told us where the real Prince Percheron and Princess Ianthe would be held. I galloped to keep up, but it was too late, as the twisting, branching tunnels made it impossible to follow. I soon realized I didn't want to follow him, either, as Airic seemed like the sort who'd gravitate naturally towards the most dangerous depths of the hive.

I thought about heading back the way I came, but soon decided against it. With my luck, the cloudgunners would fry me as soon as I got into the open air. Airic would probably thank them for it. No, if I was going to make it out of the hive, I'd have to find someone important to hide behind, be it prince or princess.

And so, I went deeper.

Once again, my experience in the Royal Guard saved my life. Not through any official training, mind you-- a large part of being a Royal Guard is all about looking impressive and conspicuous instead of stealthy. However, every night in which I'd snuck out past curfew, and back to the barracks before the sun rose had given me the needed sneakiness to skulk through those uncomfortably damp and sticky tunnels. I stuck to the shadows (and tried not to think about what stuck to my hooves) as I prowled down, deeper and deeper.

On more than one occasion, I flattened myself against the wall as a clutch of panicked changelings buzzed by. Under normal circumstances, they would have found me for sure, but with the whole damned hive coming down around their ears (or antennae, or whatever), the buggers had bigger things to worry about. I followed a spiraling hallway down into a cavernous, well, cavern, empty except for me.

And Golden Harvest.

Gone was the calm and collected secret agent who'd terrorized me for so long. Her hair was mussed, her uniform was torn, and there was a desperate look in her eye that I didn't recognize. I had long since assumed that Golden Harvest was about as capable of fear as a tortoise is capable of flight.

“You!” she and I blurted at the same time.

“It was terrible!” Golden Harvest flung herself at me-- I fumbled my front legs up to catch her before she could topple the both of us. “The changelings ambushed us. I-I- was the only one who got away. The rest … “ she trailed off into quiet little sobs.

“They knew what they signed up for.” I hoped that was comforting. Military sorts always liked to hear about 'duty,' didn't they?

“Please.” Golden Harvest pulled herself close enough I could feel her racing, traumatized heartbeat. “You've got to protect me.”

“Protect you?” I blurted, perhaps a little louder than I should have. I put my hooves on her shoulders and pushed her away so I could look into her big, green eyes, welled up with tears. Her lip trembled, and she sniffed in another quiet little breath. And yet, even in her terrified state, she looked lovely. She pulled in an unsteady breath, and leaned her lips towards mine …

So I punched her.

In the face.

The shock of the blow traveled up my front leg in an entirely too gratifying sensation. Golden Harvest reeled across the hallway, and crumpled into a little pile against the far wall.

“Is that the best you can do?” I said with a little laugh, and flared my wings out, preparing to lash out again if needed. “I'll admit, you got the look down perfectly, but the real Golden Harvest can't stand me. She'd sooner die than kiss the likes of me.” I paused, and rubbed at my chin. “I rather hope she hasn't, though.”

The air shimmered with crackling green magic, and 'Golden Harvest' melted away, revealing a wounded, glaring changeling. It clacked its mandibles at me and hissed-- but kept its distance. I must've hit it harder than I thought.

“You changelings don't know me very well, do you?” I said-- and no sooner had the words left my mouth, it hit me. “Or … wait. You do know who I am, don't you?” I smiled, and stood up a little taller, flaring my wings out. “Because I'm not really Prince Percheron. I'm Lieutenant Flash Sentry, hero of the Battle of Canterlot.”

The changeling hissed, and pressed itself against a far wall.

I trotted closer. “I can only imagine the stories. That I singlehandedly slew a good dozen changelings at the Battle of Canterlot. With my bare hooves.” I tried for an intimidating smirk but it probably just came off as smug. “So I'll make this simple. Why don't you take me down to wherever you're holding the real Prince Percheron before we have to find out just how much truth there is to my reputation?” I idly wiped a bit of ichor off of my hoof. The sheer absurdity of the situation was enough to make me forget just how terrified I was to be alone in the center of a changeling hive.

The changeling's multi-faceted eyes went wide, and it gave a silent nod.

“No funny business, either.” I warned. “It won't end well.”

The changeling took to the air, and I followed, gliding down a hallway that looked like nothing so much as an enormous petrified intestine. I kept that smug look on my face, even though a little voice at the back of my head reminded me this would be a perfect time to lead me into an ambush. Then again, with the hive literally abuzz from the storm, they hopefully wouldn't have the opportunity to put one together.

My vaunted reputation must have been more intimidating than I thought, as the changeling soon led me to the deepest and darkest depth of the hive-- where, sure enough, there were several pony-sized pods lining the walls. Translucent green 'windows' showed the prisoners trapped within-- on one side of the room, Princess Ianthe, and on the other side …

“Do I really look like that?” I mused aloud as I stared at the mustached pony within.

My changeling guide just shrugged-- and, as the realization struck it that I likely had better things to do than murder it, fled down the way we came as fast as it could. It didn't make it far before I heard a wet 'crunch' echo through the corridor. Moments later, Airic rounded the corner-- bruised and battered, with wet spatters on his hooves.

“Sentry?” He blinked at me. “You made it?”

“I'm as surprised as you are. Now help me get these things open so we can--”

“My prince!” Airic flew across the room to Percheron's egg-pod-thing, and immediately started pulling at it with both hooves. After a moment's desperate scrabbling, the pod opened with a sound I can only describe as a 'blorp,' and the real Prince Percheron tumbled out into Airic's waiting hooves.

Prince Percheron coughed, puked up a stream of something green and rancid-smelling, and then looked up at his savior's eyes. “Airic?” He blinked a few times. “I knew you'd come for me.”

“I had to.” Airic sniffed, and forced a wan, tender smile.

Prince Percheron weakly reached up to touch a hoof to the side of Airic's face, and I realized that there was a very, very important bit of information missing from Prince Percheron's dossier. **

** Sentry's account is the first document to directly imply a romantic relationship between Prince Percheron and Lieutenant Commander Airic Pinfeather. Other accounts of the time sometimes lapse into rumor or vague innuendo, but Airic is never named specifically. This is unsurprising, as both Percheron and Pinfeather's reputations would have been ruined if the news ever became widespread. Such a relationship between a prince and one of his subordinate officers would be extremely taboo, especially in a martially inclined society like Perchertania.

Well then.

I turned away from the pair, and set about peeling Princess Ianthe from her fleshy prison. She fell upon me, and looked up with an expression equal parts confusion and relief. “Prince Percheron?” Any further questioning was soon forgotten, as Ianthe spent the next few moments retching up prisoner-goop.

“You're close enough.” I said. “Can you walk, Princess?”

“I … yes. If you help.”

I nodded, and propped one of Ianthe's legs across my shoulders. “Good. Now we just have to get out of here.”

“Agreed.” Airic had the real Prince Percheron cradled in his front hooves like a groom carrying a bride across the threshold (which was something I had forgotten to do to Ianthe, come to think of it).

Princess Ianthe blinked as she saw the second Prince.

“It's … complicated. I'll explain later.” I said, hoping quite well there would be a later.

We made it as far as the large chamber in the center of the hive before the changelings caught up with us. They were impossible to count, piled atop each other in a seething, chittering, buzzing mass. The hive shook as another thunderbolt struck, and the changelings roiled like a stormy black sea. They were confused, scared-- but there were still a damned lot of them, far too many to fight through or flee past, even if I didn't have a half-unconscious zebra princess leaning against me. I grit my teeth and flared my wings, hoping vainly to bluff them off for a few seconds more--

--and then the far wall exploded.

Heavily armored ponies and zebras surged through the breach, leaping on the changelings that were 'lucky' enough to survive the initial blast. Among the soldiery, an orange blur stood out. Golden Harvest sprung from one end of the melee to the other, graceful as a ballerina (if just a bit more violent). Every time she lashed out with a hoof, chitin would crack, and changelings would scream. I could only marvel as I watched Golden Harvest leap onto the back of one changeling, only to leap again, sailing impossibly high into the air before she grabbed hold of a ridge in the ceiling with her front hooves, and used the extra momentum to smash both her back hooves into the face of a particularly large and ugly bug-monster. Golden Harvest let go of the roof, and rode the changeling she kicked all the way to the floor. The changeling crunched wetly as it hit the ground, but Golden Harvest stayed as nimble as a cat. She did a front-flip, and landed right in front of me.

“Sentry! You survived!” She sounded more surprised than relieved.

“Force of habit, really.” I said. A platoon's worth of burly zebras soon surrounded us in a defensive posture-- I gratefully unloaded Princess Ianthe onto a sergeant. “And to be honest, I'd rather like to continue surviving, so why don't we get out of here before Perchertania's best blast this place to rubble?”

“Right. We need to get the royals out of here.” She held a hoof to her lips and whistled, at which point zebras and perchertanians alike reformed their ranks and began to make a fighting withdrawal. The changelings were in no condition to press their attack-- the surprise explosion and subsequent assault had pushed them back in disarray. The bombardment above even more intense, and even larger chunks of masonry began to tumble downward.

For once, I didn't argue with Golden Harvest, as for once, she was dragging me out of danger instead of thrusting me into it. I kept my head down, and tried to stay in the middle of the group. It was rather easy, to tell the truth, as everypony's attention was on Ianthe and the real Prince Percheron, instead of me. I trotted along as fast as I could without outpacing the throng of burly, well-armored shock troops, and gave a giddy little laugh as I saw the night sky (however cloudy and rainy) through the breach in the wall.

The whole tower shook, and I heard somepony cry out in pain behind me.

I looked over my shoulder-- and there, sure enough, was Golden Harvest, sprawled out beneath a wagon-sized chunk of whatever changelings build their hives out of. She swore as she tugged at her left rear leg, which had been trapped between two of the larger chunks. In the chaos of the retreat, not a single zebra or pony had noticed her falling behind.

Except for me.

I wheeled around and galloped over, lowering my shoulder to shove at the rubble holding Golden Harvest in place. “What the hell are you doing?” She snarled through pain-gritted teeth.

“I don't know!” I said, honestly, and shoved at the rubble again.

“The whole damn tower's coming down! You'll be killed!”

“Which puts this on par with pretty much everything else that's happened to me in the last few days.” Something shifted beneath my hooves as I pushed, and Golden Harvest dragged herself out of the debris. I hauled Golden Harvest up and over my shoulder-- it's a good thing she was wounded, as I'm fairly certain she would have murdered me by reflex otherwise. She kept swearing with a drill sergeant's eloquence, but the hellacious quaking of the collapsing tower drowned her out.

I took to the air, however unsteadily, and flew through the breach in the outside wall as soon as I could. No sooner had the end of my tail passed the threshold, the rest of the tower imploded, crashing downward in a cloud of dust and rock smoke.

Blinded, I flapped on for a few yards more before I smashed into a tree. I tumbled to the ground, bringing Golden Harvest down with me. I did the gentlemanly thing and hit the ground first, allowing the earth ponyto break her fall with my face. Thankfully, the ground was wet and soft enough that I'd only have bruises instead of broken bones to worry about.

I coughed, groaned, and weakly wriggled out from beneath Golden Harvest. She rolled off of me, and wound up leaning her back against the very tree I'd careened into. She ran her front hooves over her wounded leg, then sucked in a quick breath before pushing hard on it with both hooves. The ensuing 'pop!' turned my stomach. She panted a few more times through her nose, and then finally looked up at me. “You saved my life.”

“And I honestly couldn't tell you why.”

“Maybe you really really are a hero at heart.”

“I wouldn't go that far.”

Golden Harvest laughed-- a girlish, bubbly laugh entirely out of place coming from her. “I still don't like you, Sentry.” She lolled her head back against the tree trunk.

“I don't like you either, Harvest.”



“My real name's Carrot Top.” She pushed orange hair from her face, and sighed. “I guess you've earned that much, after all you've done.”

“I'm honored. I think.” I tried standing up, thought the better of it as pain lanced up my side, and made do with an undignified crawl to Golden Harvest-- no, Carrot Top's tree, settling in to sit beside her. We could've been mistaken for a couple, if one were to look past the gore and filth and shell-shocked expressions. “So now what?”

“Now? Now it's just clean up.” Carrot Top nodded to a clump of activity a little ways away, where various ponies in armor fawned over the rescued prince and princess. “Once the dust settles, Perchertania and Zebrica will both get back to their wedding celebrations. Plus, they've now got a mutual enemy to unite against. In all the commotion and confusion, it'll be easy for two Equestrians to slip through the cracks.”

The thought of home brought a smile to my face-- and the thought of finally being done with all this damned espionage business made me smile wider. “I suppose I've only got one more question.”

“What's that?”

“When can I shave off this damn mustache?”

So ends the first volume of the Flash Sentry Papers. -G.M.F.

Comments ( 34 )

Loved this latest chapter, but I got to ask, are you going to make a sequel to this story and if so how long do you think it will be before you write it and post it, because I just got to know how Flash would react to stuff that happens after all this and during other chapter episodes.

“When can I shave off this damn mustache?”

Neeeeevarrrr! :moustache:

That last part with Flash and Carrot Top was really cute. :twilightblush: :heart:


Well, I miiiiiight tack on an epilogue, but at the moment I don't have any plans for a full sequel story. Though I suppose if I wanted to get really ridiculous, I could fiddle around with the EQG-verse again, which ... dangit you're actually giving me ideas now so we'll see how things go. Either way, it'll probably be awhile. :)

8056393 Well we are the people who comment on your stories and even give you idea's in these comments for either future chapters or future sequels. I still would like to see Flash try to get back at Fancy Pants and his people for putting him through all that, after all they went and put him through that training without even asking him if he would do it in the first place, they just went behind his back, talked with his higher ups to get him to do that mission.

Tremendous fun. I eagerly look forward to any more installments of this series that you have planned. And any that your muse springs on you.

it's a good thing she was wounded, as I'm fairly certain she would have murdered me by reflex otherwise

I suspect he might have been better-liked by the fandom if he had kept the mustache. :moustache:

8056393 honestly, this needs an epilogue. Excellent and hilarious story, but the ending cries for something to follow. Maybe authors have spoiled us :derpytongue2:

Anyway, have a like and a fave. And now I need to read on Ciaphas Cain :facehoof:


Look up The Prisoner of Zenda

I'm gonna leave this here just in case.
I want more of this. This was really good and the story was clearly set up for more (Flash has yet to win the Twilight medal or whatever).

Author Interviewer

That was thoroughly amazing. :D And the instant Airic refused to specify how he knew Flash was an imposter, I knew he was more than a friend of the Prince's. :V

I was a bit disappointed when the comedy took a back seat over the changeling abuse, but this was very well written and an overall fun read. I'll be sure to check out the sequels.

Ciaphas Cain, HERO of the Imperium?


Well, for one, the Cain novels draw heavily from Flashman (along with a healthy dose of Blackadder), so that's seniority. Or something.

Though I suppose I can see some similarity between Special Agent Golden Harvest and Inquisitor Amberley Vail-- though honestly both characters are using the same 'femme fatale' character beats. :)

I have to admit I was skeptical at first.
You see, I usually only read things that I find myself or trough other people I follow already.
Reccomendations of PresentPerfect I often ignore.
But this one sounded interesting and I decided to give it a chance. Good think I did.
I really liked it, so fav and follow from me.
Keep up the good work.



Just, loved this whole idea, the way it worked out, dammit story, you actually made me LIKE Flash Sentry! Just, this whole thing was incredible, hilarious, awesome, and, it just works so well, it need... wait, wait..... MORE! There are already more entries YESYESYES, no more typing, going to read!

Oh, plus, EVERY story can only be made better with the line 'But then the ninja's happened"

Utterly delightful! A wonderful pastiche of two things I really love. You have Fraser's voicing down really well.

I have been looking for some good Flash stories and I am happy to say this story scratched that particular itch quite nicely. It reminds me a lot of Mark Twain's short story Luck.

I note with delight that there are more in this series (*squeeeee*!:yay:). Onward!

allowing the earth ponyto break her fall with my face.

Missing a space here.

I really enjoyed this story. Flash remains a scoundrel at the end of this story, but there is enough subtle character development to make me look forward to the next.

I reviewed this story as part of Read It Later Reviews #81.

My review can be found here.

Full review here, but in brief: fun. I'm only slightly familiar with the Flashman books, so probably not quite this story's target audience, but I got the general idea, enough to appreciate the writing style. That was so effective, actually, that the odd blatant Americanism actually startled me! A rollicking good yarn.


Glad you enjoyed it!

Though I’m kinda curious about the blatant Americanisms. Being, well, American, I guess I didn’t even notice them.

You're welcome!

Nothing important, just little things that jump out to me as a Brit. For example, "snifter" in British English doesn't mean a brandy glass. It means a small, informal drink. "Come on, old chap -- let's get back to the Hall for a snifter." It's a bit old-fashioned and upper-crust, the sort of thing the "pink gin crowd" might have said, but it would certainly have been familiar to Flashman. I know for a fact that I have the same problem in reverse, putting occasional Briticisms in my ponyfic. As I say, it's not a big deal when the story's enjoyable.

Talking of which, I see there are sequels. I'll certainly bear those in mind! :twilightsmile:

What is Flashman?


Flashman isn't a 'what' so much as a 'who.' Or, to be more specific, Harry Paget Flashman is the narrator and star of The Flashman Papers, a series of historical novels centering on a thoroughly cowardly and otherwise terrible anti-hero blundering his way through every military fiasco of the 19th century. It's this series that I shamelessly stole from inspired me to give Flash Sentry his particularly ... unique personality.

Ohhh I hope there’s more of these. This was amazingly fun read.

Well, this is a pleasant surprise. Thank you.

I had some chuckles. Very nice to see a silly romp like this with a character who needs some unique versions of him littering the site a bit more.

Ah, I just read in the introduction to Ciaphas Cain Hero of the Imperium that Cain was inspired by Flashman. So that's why Cain seem so similar to this.

I came here from FanOfMostEverything's highly complimentary review/Magic card blog, and I'm very glad I did. I've never heard of Flashman or Zerda, but I thoroughly enjoyed this fic and am looking forward to reading the sequels! The "bumbling rascal" trope has excellent pedigree and this fic makes great use of it. I love how Flash lists the moustache among the indignities he's had to suffer.

I did find myself wondering whether, given his inclinations, the real Prince would go back and do his duty with his wife, or whether he might get Flash to step in and impersonate him one last time... Doesn't look like you went there, but it's not exactly ruled out either :raritywink:

Thanks very much for the delightful read, and I'll see you in the sequel!

Started reading due to FOME's cards! Soo nice! I wonder who's the love interest in the later stories... My bets is Golden Harvest, and now I'm wondering if she had her own diary...



ponyto > pony to

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