Imperial Revision

by The Sound of Loneliness

Bottle Duty

Master Sergeant Baron Shoes needed a drink.
Being good friends with Bright White, the owner of the only thestral bar in Canterlot, came out useful once again; the happy bat even poured him one on the house to celebrate Baron’s return to Canterlot. Baron didn’t share White’s enthusiasm.
Baron wasn’t supposed to be celebrating anything.
He was supposed to be dead.

Baron genuinely believed Her Majesty would kill him for what he did. He deserved to die for failing like that. He failed to protect his sovereign.
He never knew she and Princess Luna were completely different ponies, neither could he know they were in that damned cave, but that did nothing to diminish his fault.

He, and all his squaddies alongside him, had done a terrible crime—and they all knew it. They were grateful their Empress had not ended them immediately, but none of them could simply live on with it on their shoulders.
Baron couldn’t live a day without a drink, Firestep couldn’t sleep, Shallow Sand often had to be dragged off his post, and Wavy Shadow—one of the few thestrals in the military—probably had it the worst.

Her being religious wasn’t exactly news for anypony—almost every bat was, but even infamous-in-her-fanaticism High Priestess could envy Wavy now. It seemed like the only times when she wasn’t praying were when she was on duty, and when she was asleep. Though Baron couldn’t bet on the latter. He didn’t know the language she was praying in, it had to be some dialect from a thousand years ago, but no one needed to understand it to know what she was asking her goddess for.

They were supposed to be dead for hurting their Empress—she had executed ponies for less in past. It seemed times of justice were long gone, they all got a promotion instead of a punishment. They were the “Honor Guard” now!

The sickening humour of the situation made Baron smile while his gut was turning upside down. Apparently, to get a promotion within the Guard, you had to make suffer the very pony you were supposed to protect.

Oh, and suffer did they make her. Baron was one was of the oldest serving Guards in the whole outfit—he’d seen this mare tearing apart tanks and bunkers alike, bullets ricocheting off her own enchanted armor. He’d seen her dealing with traitors and cowards quickly and with little hesitation, always impassive and composed, always plotting and controlling.
She really looked like a goddess—invincible and ethereal, with no enemy being a threat to her.

Ha, “No enemy.”
Baron and his team of chaff managed to do something no one else managed to: to hurt a goddess.

You know it hurts when a creature like her forgets all dignity and manners and wails in anguish in front of the very insects who caused her pain. It was the single most horrifying sound Baron had ever heard.
In his decades of service, starting all the way in pre-civil war Equestrian army, he’d never heard anything that could be worse than the desperate bellows of someone losing their dear one.

Changelings were the worst. They were conditioned to pull through, but no training could help them with something like that. After seeing a bomb ripping apart half a dozen of their brothers and sisters, the rest usually broke. They no longer had the strength to continue.
Baron felt ending them was more merciful than taking them to a POW camp. It would only have had made them suffer longer.
Now, though, he had a new worst.

Not one of them dared to look the Empress in the eyes since he shot the Princess. Neither did they dare to talk to her—they no longer had the right to talk to their sovereign. Not after what they did.

But their Empress was a gracious ruler. She gave them a chance for absolution. She put them so close to herself for a reason. Her Majesty had no use for personal Guards, everypony who ever saw her in person knew as much. Baron didn’t envy any would-be assassins.
The purpose the Empress had for them was guarding her secrets. They were the only soldiers in the palace who knew about Luna. That was why they were the ones guarding her crypt. That was why they were the ones guarding Her Majesty’s tower.

Baron didn’t know what would it take for them to atone, but he knew that they would do whatever it takes. If they had to bar the entrance to the crypt with their bodies, that was what they would do. It didn’t matter if they lived or died, there was no life that had any meaning outside the service now. That was why he was there, groping the bottle. It helped to make the time pass, so he could get back to the post on the next night.

Baron grabbed another bottle from the box he and this night’s companion had bought together. He didn’t remember what he was drinking, and neither did he care. What mattered was that it helped.
Neither did he care who was the mare he was now drinking with.

He vaguely remembered her telling him she had a son somewhere in Crystal City, but Baron couldn’t remember meeting anyone who looked remotely like her, and she hadn’t said his name anyway.
None of it mattered, they both had something they didn’t want to think about, it was reason enough to share a table.
She hadn’t moved for a while now—she was probably asleep. Lucky her. He decided to check, however. Getting another pony killed wasn’t on his priority list.

He felt a weak pulse. Her breathing was shallow, and she herself was cold as a dead body. Baron wanted to call Bright White from the counter, but his mouth wasn’t obeying him. He looked around for anypony closer, for he himself might not make it all the way to the counter, but the bar was quite empty at this hour.

With his trained eye, Baron noticed something strange. There was another mare in there with them. Had he not spent this many years on guard duty, his eye would've simply slid right over.
She seemed to be looking at something under her table, but Baron could tell she was periodically glancing up at them through her mane. Her whole appearance blended in with the bar…almost like she was wearing camouflage.

Baron caught her look, and gestured—or tried to—for her to approach them. The mare gave him a look of utter contempt, which was only natural, given how he must’ve looked this late at night. Well, he needed to do something…
Placing a hoof on his companion’s muzzle, he gathered his strength and gave her a push. The pony, together with her chair, plummeted to the floor. That ought to draw somepony’s attention.

To Baron’s shock, the first one to respond was the mare herself. As soon as she hit the floor, her eyes sprung open, and she leapt to her hooves—a feat Baron would’ve considered impossible, given her state. She glared at him, her eyes completely clear and sober. Baron could offer her no explanation, and she didn’t want one anyway.

The lady already lost the interest in him and glanced around, catching the sight of their unwelcome observer. For a moment she stared in silence, probably making sure she was seeing her clearly—these two knew each other, no doubt about that. The standing mare’s face began to color red, like a teapot about to steam. Baron figured he’d better stay out.

Right on time, too. The mare, with a single, awe-inspiring leap, hurled herself to her adversary. Apparently, the other had been expecting it.
After avoiding being pinned to the ground, the other mare immediately sprinted out of the bar. Baron’s former companion, after managing to counter her inertia, followed.

Baron managed to pick up his jaw, figuring he shouldn’t be so surprised. With all of the strange nonsense happening at the palace—such as ponies being noticed in several places at the same time, while constantly disappearing then reappearing again—it would be unusual if Canterlot city was very different.
As always, Baron knew that digging into it meant getting in trouble with someone very high up, perhaps even Her Majesty herself. So, he grabbed another bottle instead.

Comments

[The_Darker_Fonts]

I'm laughing. I have no clue what's going on. Imma grab another bottle too.