It's been a couple years or so ever since the Dimensional Tear Incident of 2018—something that no one would've ever thought of happening. On both worlds, everyone is still getting used to the fact that alien life does indeed exist, some coming to terms faster than others. Cultural exchange is slow but relations only continue to get stronger.
In a show of kindness, the U.S sends a volunteer over to the Equestrian side to help manage their security problems; something that's been plaguing them for quite some time now.
It is quite the shame that MA Brandt is in for quite the shock.
Brandt stepped off of the carriage, eyeing the source of locomotion and the driver, which, much to his amusement, happened to be the same person. Or, to be technical, same pony. It seemed that the novelty of it had yet to wear off. Ah. Enough making fun of the man. He's just doing his job. Reaching into his pocket—in extension his wallet—he began grabbing the appropriate amount for the tip. They may just be tiny horses... but this was just common courtesy for a job damn well done. Satisfied, he brought it out.
Then proceeded to awkwardly hold it out once he realized there was no way for the earth pony to hold it.
“Er…”
“I usually nevah get tipped.” The carriage driver returned the awkward look. “Ther’s a pawch ah’n the front. Ya’ can just… put it ther…”
“Right,” he replied curtly. “You… you have a good day then.”
“Yeh’...” the stallion replied, quickly trotting away.
The man watched him disappear around the bend before turning to face his destination. It also seemed that no matter the difference in realities, people still prioritized escaping from those kinds of scenarios. He slid his phone out from a pocket and checked the time.
“Almost twelve…” he murmured.
That left him with fifteen minutes to do something before his meeting. He idly wondered as he walked to the front gate. Would they let him explore the grounds? Or would that be an issue? He tsked and shook his head. He was sure they could spare some time for a quick tour. Getting him speedily acquainted with his new place of work would be good enough of a reason. From his experience, there certainly was a big difference when it came to looking at the real deal and not a flat piece of paper.
Which wasn’t a bad thing—there were no complaints from him about the landscaping.
He sighed and rubbed his shoulder. Now that he really thought about it, they most likely already did have staff dedicated to tours. If…! And only if his experience at any other locale transferred over. The Disney-esque appearance of the castle certainly failed to convince him otherwise. They probably had children by the dozens aching to see this place. And to be quite honest, his inner child was also getting quite giddy at the prospect of getting such a chance. And I'll be seeing it again and again for the next couple of years.
He hummed… and stopped.
He… he should've hit a door by now. A really big door to be precise. He turned on a dime.
Behind him was the castle gate. Wide open. With no guards around it.
If that wasn't a glaring issue, then pony Jesus would descend from wherever heaven he resided in and bitch slap him. Tentatively, he waited for anything to happen. Best case, a pair of guards were just running late on their rotation. Worst case? He was in the middle of a subtle-not-so-subtle infiltration. Tensing up, his hand reflexively hovered over the holster. There was no way he was going to get himself caught unawares.
When he stood there for another five minutes and nothing happened, he narrowed his eyes. Was this a first-to-make-their-move-loses standoff? Because damned if it was, he was not planning on losing.
Another five passed and his reward was a gentle afternoon breeze.
Brandt made a face. “Look, if someone's there, just show yourself! I'm sure you've got me outnumbered or something like that.”
The wind buffeted his face again with its soft caress. Leaving him with no reply. Of course, there was always the chance nobody was even there and he was overreacting. Truly. it never hurt to be a paranoid SOB, but the small consideration regarding a non-existing foe was still seconds fresh on his mind. That made him feel slightly embarrassed. He was getting all riled up because of nothing.
Brandt blinked. No, wait. He had a perfectly excusable reason as to why paranoia was settling in. Why aren’t there any guards here? Patrolling or following their namesake?
His eyes darted around, scanning his surroundings. “Never really did like the quiet. Always meant something bad,” he said aloud.
Unnerved and uncomfortable, he switched to an elevated jogging pace and made his way down the path. Still, even as he moved deeper into palace grounds, there was no one present.
When he felt the unwelcome sensation of dread prickling the back of his neck, he took an immediate detour. His grip tightened around the briefcase as he leaped over a short shrub fence and slammed his back behind a marble statue. His breaths were quick as he exchanged the briefcase with the weapon that was strapped to his thigh.
He peeked around the corner and frowned. The trees waved menacingly—yeah, right. Nope. Not a leaf or blade of grass out of place. Still the picturesque landscape he walked into.
“I guess I'm just paranoid,” he said aloud, relaxing his stance. He flicked the holster cover open and slid the gun back where it belonged. Brandt turned and scooped the handle of the briefcase. Sparing one last glance, he checked his six. Nothing changed. “Yep. Paranoid as ever.” But still suspicious as hell.
Brandt’s stunt did get him to the front door of the castle much faster than he projected, however. So, plus for him. He brushed off his uniform and straightened the tie. “Right, okay. Just ask them about the front gate.” He stepped over the fancy little ankle-high fence and jogged the last portion of the journey. Why didn’t I just ask to be dropped off here instead? It looked like the entire place was perfectly capable of…
Ah, goddamnit. Me and my manners. He shrugged. Too late to complain now.
The castle towered above him, white and gold spiraling into the clouds. Buttresses tastefully designed with carved patterns of wispy strands of gold braced themselves along the walls. Regular and stained windows alike spread along most surfaces. All of this lead him to the grand double doors that served as the door to the inside. Standing in front of the entrance were two armored stallions, stoic and unwavering. Here’s my chance. Brandt held out his hand and waved hello as he neared. “Listen, quick question, but, uh, isn’t the front gate of the castle supposed to be manned?”
Their visages shattered instantly. Both of the guards looked at him as if he approached with his foot in his mouth. “What?” they replied in sync.
“Uh, manned? Guarded? Protected? There’s no one there,” he gestured to the end of the path. “Literally anyone could come in and none would be the wiser.” He paused and squinted his eyes. “Now that I can see it from here, there’s no one on the walls, either.”
The pony on the left froze, most likely processing what he had said. Half a minute later, he cocked his head. “I don’t see anything wrong.” He leaned in slightly, eyes drifting along the walls. “Yep. Nothing.”
“Yeah, me neither,” the other added, nodding his head.
Brandt stuttered. “I, but, what, huh…!? What do you mean that’s okay?”
The guard on the right stared at the man. “Well, there’s no double meaning here. Stalwart is pretty straightforward with what he says.”
“Mhm. I’m a simple pony. I say what I mean.”
Gently, Brandt let down his briefcase. Not so gently, was the slap to the face. He groaned from underneath his facepalm, exaggeratingly dragging it down. He whispered empty threats and swears to a higher power before he removed his hand. He took a deep breath and picked up his luggage. “Alright, that’s okay. Perfectly fine.”
“Yeah. ‘S what he said.”
The man sighed.
Rightie gave him a mean look. “If you’re just going to stand there asking weird questions… about… about ‘guards at the front gate,’ you can just go.”
“Yeah! Loitering isn’t allowed here.”
“You guys enforce that but not…” He took another deep breath, restraining his anger. “Well, I have a meeting with your Princess. And, I’ve already got my paperwork and ID right in here –” he lifted his briefcase “– so if you would give me a moment to take that out—”
“Ohhh! Why didn’t you just say so?” “Stalwart” raised a hoof to silence him. “We received a memo about a human coming to visit this morning.” He eyed him up and down. “You kinda look like what it said a human would look like, so come in!”
His partner helped him push the double doors open. The unnamed stallion guard on the right, beamed. “Princess Celestia’s office is straight down the hall, first door on your left. Has a giant sun embossed on it. Can’t miss it!”
Now this time, it was Brandt’s turn to shoot them dirty looks. “Alright. Either this is a test or I'm getting screwed with. This is basic protocol! Are you not even going to check my credentials? What if I wasn’t the human who supposed to meet with her today? What if I'm just random schmuck off the street? What if I was a terrorist or assassin?”
Unnamed stallion scrunched his face. “Well, are you a terrorist or assassin?”
“Well, no, but that’s not the point—”
Stalwart smiled. “Good enough for us! We were glad to be of service, sir!”
They both saluted and without another word, Brandt was pushed inside. He stumbled forward, sticking out his arms to balance or catch himself before he embarrassingly made intimate acquaintance with the floor. He turned around to see the door shut, his clothes and combed hair ruffled slightly from the force of the air ejected from the shutting escape. He blinked, still unsure if that really just happened. He stood still, staring blankly at the half-opened briefcase and dark-olive folder sticking out of it.
The only sounds that could be heard were the quiet breaths of the only man in the room.
“That did not just happen,” he whispered, both in anger and disbelief. Never let these guys have a job in the TSA. As he let the shock filter out of his system, he stiffly shuffled to face the corridor where Celestia’s office was to be found. “We have so much to talk about.”
He stepped out of the meeting room, stunned by how quickly the princess had brushed off all of his advances concerning the guards.
Well, she was a diarch of the country.
That meant her schedule was packed and decided days in advance—which he should've expected. So that also meant she only had enough time for the intended subject of the meeting and only the intended subject. Each time Brandt had brought up something else, he had been politely turned down and informed to tell her at a later time, a time preferably where they could freely talk. Nearing the end of their allotted time, Princess Celestia had expressed that she would love to hear more about him and his planet, although.
And that was also when he realized the sense of urgency in his question wasn't coming across to her.
That should’ve offended him in some way or form. Yet, it clearly didn’t. The princess was just too-damned good at word-fu.
In fact, he somehow felt worse after all of that. As if he was the one in the wrong.
Somehow.
“Sir? Sir,” someone said to his left. He turned to face the mare, who looked to be Raven Inkwell… Princess Celestia’s secretary. The same pony who had waved him in. “Her Highness has tasked me with getting you settled here in the castle.”
“Really? Well, don’t let me be the hold-up,” he replied. “I’m just thinking about things.”
“Very well,” she stated, pulling out a tablet from atop the desk. “I suppose we can start with the main hub.”
“Lead the way. I'll be right behind you.”
The pony nodded in confirmation. Raven trotted over to the door and knocked on it, to which the door was pulled open by two of the guards standing outside. Or actually, just one of them, Brandt noted as he stepped into the hallway. The other was just standing there, doing nothing.
Brandt narrowed his eyes in suspicion. There was a low but resonant noise coming from somewhere. Something that sounded awfully familiar. His brows furrowed and eyes narrowed to near slits. He stepped up and leaned closer to the still guard. That noise had gotten louder, enough that he could identify it.
Was this guard snoring?
Now upon closer inspection… those eyes looked like someone had cut out fake replacements. It was far easier to see the crayon-substitute irises. He glanced back to the other guard, who was averting his gaze, whistling and sweating bullets.
“Mhm…” Brandt murmured, rotating to directly face the guard’s drooping ear. He straightened his posture and raised his right hand, cupping it slightly. He proceeded to do the same with the other hand before bringing them together.
To a human, it may have sounded like an extra loud clap.
Considering both the proximity and a horse’s—or pony’s in his case—extra-sensitive hearing, it was like someone had decided to pop a firecracker, not inches away.
The stallion let out a shrill shriek and managed an impressive leap into the sky, leaving his spear clattering behind him. “AAAAHHH! SOUND THE ALARM! WE’RE UNDER ATTACK!!!” He crashed back into the rug, flailing as his helmet drooped over his eyes. “HELPPP! PONY DOWN! PONY DOWN!”
His partner rushed over and pulled him up, fixing the obstruction on the screaming stallion’s head. “Chill, you're making us look bad! We're not under attack!” he whispered. Or, rather, you could consider it whisper-shouting. Brandt could still clearly hear each word.
The stallion pushed his helmet further up and blinked, causing the fake replacements to flutter to the ground. “We’re… we're not?” He tilted his head in confusion and scanned the area, slowly trailing his eyes to see the glowering form of Brandt. He eeped and stumbled back.
“Sleeping on the job, guard?” Brandt asked, unamused.
“N-No sir!” he squeaked.
Brandt bent over and scooped up the fake eyes, waving them in the air like tickets. “Would you like to explain this, then, guard?”
A lump appeared in the stallion’s throat. His pupils darted about the area, appearing as if he was considering scenarios. His fur was taking a glossy sheen of sweat and his mouth opened and closed, failing to properly translate his thoughts. He was doing a spectacular job of imitating a beached fish. Of course—
His head snapped forward and nabbed the two pieces of paper between his teeth, sucking them into his mouth.
His face soured and he began chewing, with much difficulty on his part. It seemed that eating paper probably wasn’t the most appetizing of snacks. Nor was it a simple feat, either. He ate it slowly, thoroughly reducing the thing to mush before he awkwardly swallowed it all done.
“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir,” he wheezed. The stallion was most likely in need of a liquid to wash down his… less than orthodox meal.
Brandt, on the other hand, had frozen still, hand still held out in front of him. There was a mixture of respect, disgust, and confusion stuck on his face.
If anything, the man had paid his just desserts. By literally eating them.
“I don’t…” Brandt started, before immediately stopping himself. He breathed deep before shaking his head. “I’ll probably see something worse. I’d rather just go, Miss Raven. I'm sure we're wasting enough time.”
The mare was quick to respond, leading him away from the scene.
“Oh my,” Raven coughed. She looked appalled. “I swear that usually never happens! What… I… what a terrible first impression! I do so apologize for that, Mister Brandt!”
Usually? “Right. Terrible first impression,” he replied. Brandt sighed for what was possibly the fifth time today and massaged his shoulder. “You know what? Let's not dwell on this. You had a castle to show me, right?”
“R-Right, yes, of course!” she stuttered. Ushering for him to follow her, they began their tour. They passed several coat-of-arms, some of which Raven was more than happy to describe the history behind.
Halfway down, she brought up her tablet and quickly read something off of it.
“R-Right there, as you can see, is the entrance to the throne room! It was constructed almost nine-hundred years ago, standing as one of the main rooms of the castle! It was reconstructed and repaired many times through its lifetime,” she half-read, half-libbed. “Princess Celestia stays there to listen to petitioners on all weekdays except Mondays.”
He bit his lip. This is going to be a long day, isn't it?
Somewhere along the way did the mare regain her composure and confidence, leading him around the castle with far more gusto than she had at the start.
“This here is the castle’s primary kitchen, responsible for serving the princesses, visiting dignitaries, and a hooful of Canterlot nobles,” she explained. “They work around the clock to be able to satisfy the demands while maintaining the legendary culinary reputation.”
Brandt certainly couldn’t deny that whatever was happening in there was anything less of perfection. His stomach grumbled its approval with a wistful noise. The aromas that drifted and danced all around him weren't of much help, either. Eating a light lunch was probably the worst move he could’ve made today (if one could call a granola bar and a shot of milk a lunch). Well, it was also that and not being able to convince his new boss that her guards were incompetent.
It was the little things, really.
Raven looked up, an inquisitive look on her face.
He chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. “Well, I suppose that’s what I get for coming here fueled by nothing more than a baked bar of oats and some milk.”
The mare’s ears perked up. “Oh? Well, I could always request for something small to help tide you over until dinner! The chefs certainly wouldn’t mind getting another chance to try and impress somepony, er, someone from another world with their cuisine!”
He smiled. This pony and he would get along just fine in the coming years. “I’m not complaining. Lead the way!”
Raven nodded and walked through the swinging doors. He followed right behind her, moving into a world he never would’ve thought was possible to feel. It was like being a kid in a candy shop, except the candy shop served something besides tooth-enamel destroying treats. So, a normal restaurant.
A normal restaurant that did a damn fine job in cooking food.
He noted how well the doors managed to separate the two rooms, right down to the sensory experiences.
The royal kitchen itself was noticeably warmer than where he had previously been standing, most likely due to the amount of heat radiated from cooking. There was much more noise than before, with all the commotion with pots clanging, food roasting, knives dicing, and skillets tossing. Ponies, griffons and the occasional minotaur would rush on by, pushing or carrying a food-related object. But that wasn’t what enraptured him.
No.
The crowning jewel of it all was the smell.
Oh, sweet heaven on—
“AGH!” he cried as he met the brunt force of a burlap sack traveling at what was basically running speed.
Which promptly burst all over him, covering him in a thick layer of flour.
He violently began coughing and tripping over himself as he sought to make his way out of the mess. Brandt rapidly fanned his hand to assist in clearing the blooming cloud. Eventually, he felt something solid make contact with his back. Then, that solid surface gave way and he fell backward, his sense of direction rolling up.
He flinched as his ass made contact with the hard marble surface that was the dining room floor.
“Wh-hah-at the fuck just hah-ppened…!?” he shouted, still blind and still sitting on the floor.
In pain, mind you.
He could hear indiscriminate words shared among the staff. "Is that Blueblood?"
"Oh, what's he doing here!?"
"It must be one of those random cravings he occasionally comes across!" one gasped. "We should've been ready for this!"
"That doesn't look like Blueblood at all," one commented. "It looks like a malnourished, gangly minotaur." They paused before bursting out in hearty laughter. "Hah! I just described my cousin."
"Agathe! You did not just say that out loud! Blueblood will have your head for that kind of comment!"
"Thirza, I insist, are you blind? That does not look like Blueblood."
He coughed, shaking his head as he tried to make sense of everything. There was so much happening at once and his gut hurt. So many sounds and noises. But the loudest out of the noises was the rush of hooves making their way towards him. “Oh no, oh no, oh no! I’m so sorry, Lord Blueblood, sir!”
“Who?” Brandt asked, directed rather at the name than anything else. However, it didn’t help that he sounded as if someone pile-drivered his gut (which they totally did) and that a level of fury was slathered across his question.
The pony? gulped. “It… it was me, s-sir, T-Toasted Kernel,” the mysterious offender announced, with a healthy dose of fear and apprehension loaded into it. “P-Please don’t f-fire me! It was an honest mistake, really!”
He set to wipe the flour out from his eyes with what hopefully was his unsullied handkerchief. “Fire who now?”
“M-Me, sir?” she asked, unsure.
“Why would I do that?” he coughed out, dragging the fabric across his face. Much to his dismay, his eyesight problem did not improve. “Wha’d you do?”
There was a moment of silence. “I… I smacked you with a bag of flour!” she said, before gasping. “Uh, s-sir!” she quickly added.
Brandt took a second to process it. The girl sounded sincere enough—as in about to break into tears. These ponies sure do get emotional real quick. “Look, it’s fine. Next time, just watch where you’re walking and what you’re doing,” he replied. “Now could someone take me to my room to get changed? I’m not sure about any of you but wearing flour really isn’t my thing.”
The kitchen, surprisingly, was silent. There were whispers among the crowd that he could make out, not coherent enough to understand, but loud enough that Brandt knew they were talking amongst themselves.
After two minutes and him awkwardly wobbling to his feet, a familiar voice spoke up.
“I’ll… I’ll take you to your quarters, Prince Blueblood,” Raven said. “Please, let’s make this posthaste. I’m sure you’re quite upset about this, sir.”
“Upset?” he snorted (grand mistake on his part). “Tha-haaah-t’s just the tip of the iceberg, Raven,” he replied, after practically hacking his lungs out.
It wasn’t long before they were both standing in front of what he assumed was his room. Raven didn’t stick around for long either, muttering something about someone disappearing.
His eyes were feeling puffy and sufficiently irritated from all the flour. He probably should’ve washed it off rather than trying to rub it away. Reluctantly, Brandt groped his way into the room, definitely regretting that he had let Raven leave before she could lead him to his shower.
He managed to catch the blurry image of another pony.
“Gah, who’s there!? What heathen dares to…!” another, random person shouted, yet again. However, they paused, and Brandt assuming that they were sizing him up or trying to figure out who he was. “Oh my… is this supposed to be a surprise for me? Well then,” they purred. “Have you come to change out my… ahem… towels?”
He frowned. That was definitely not a reaction he expected. And towels?. “Uh, no. I’m Brandt, the new royal security advisor.”
“Oh well, Brandt, I can see why they tasked you with that position. You’re certainly… readily equipped for the job,” they said, mirth lining what was believed to be a sultry tone. “This certainly is a pleasant surprise!”
“Uh, quick question. Just who are you? I’m a little… blind at the moment.”
“Hmph. And to think… oh perhaps this is part of it…” they replied, momentarily offended. “Why, I thought my name was known far and wide across the country!” They cleared their throat. “I am Prince Blueblood, unicorn stallion of the Equestrian royal family.”
“That’s… nice,” Brandt replied. “So what brings you to my bathroom?”
“Your bathroom?” he chuckled. “Moving so quickly, tsk, tsk, you rapscallion.” He sidled his way closer. “I do think we should take things, slow and sensual, wouldn’t you say, Sir Brandt?”
Then it all clicked in his head. “Wait. Waitwaitwaitwait. You’re a guy, right? Man, er, stallion?”
“Yes…?” Blueblood asked, confused as to why they were breaking character. “What brings this up?”
“And you’re hitting on me?”
“Why, I thought I was being obvious!” he said, sarcasm dripping in his tone. “Do you have a problem with that, Sir Brandt?”
Everything froze as his brain began piecing the full puzzle together. Then everything in his body was kicked into overdrive. “Yes, very much, don’t swing that way. No offense or anything. You guys are pretty chill. Also, I don’t think I’m into ponies. Also, leaving,” he quickly blurted, turning back the way he entered. “Bye!”
He bolted into the hallway, sprinting as far as his legs could get him moving. He stuck his arms in front of him to prevent slamming himself into any objects. Eventually, he stopped around a pillar once he decided he was a good enough distance away. Admittedly, Brandt was lost, exhausted, disturbed, slightly bruised, and still covered in flour. He wondered where it all went into the shitter.
The kitchen. Something Kernel had hit him with flour. As he slowly began to remember the event, he thought back to something. What had that mare called him…?
There was no possible way this would work. Nor should it ever work, no matter the circumstance. But the evidence was almost damning.
For some reason, there was a fairly large percentage of success.
For some reason, Brandt was led to believe this could actually work.
For some reason, he was doing it because he wanted to sate his curiosity, and possibly, prove a point.
He checked his disguise.
Brandt batted away any straying strands of the literal tie-dye mop sitting on his head, slathered in Celestia’s colors. He tugged at his breast pocket, making sure the phone stuck out just enough to record it all. He slipped the specially-crafted shoes on to finish it all off. Quickly bringing out the mirror, he stared at the slapdash outfit.
It would have to do on such short notice.
People would plan for months on end, intricately laying out a step-by-step process to perform absolutely daring heists. With methods of cunning and feats of skill, they would pull off what was previously believed to be impossible. Rob the bank that had never been successfully robbed? Nab the diamond from the middle of a laser minefield of security personnel? Steal the prisoner from the maximum security prison?
Some of those were years in the making.
And yet, here he was, about to just waltz straight into grand archives of Canterlot and come out the other end with “loot,” without anything in his plan besides: walk, pretend to be someone else, and grab what looked shiny or important. And all of this, created in the span of a latter half of an afternoon, coupled with his walk on the way here.
Truly, Brandt was a mastermind.
And now, a new dawn signaled that everything was to roll into motion.
He made sure to remind himself if he was to try the same shit at any other place, they would have him in a headlock faster than he could blink.
He took a deep breath and steeled his nerves. Here goes nothing.
He awkwardly dropped to all fours and clonked his way to the entrance of the archives, nearly toppling over. Humans were not built to walk the same way ponies did. Brandt made sure to remind himself that the things on his feet would be the death of him—if his costume wasn't going to be the cause of it. Almost silently did he hear a string of words repeated in the back of his head. This is stupid and it's never going to work… this is stupid and it's never going to work… and so on. A part of him wanted to believe it, mostly so he could get this all over with.
Brandt was now in clear view of the guards patrolling the way there.
And not a single guard dared stop him as he shambled through.
One even had the gall to salute him and greet him with, “Good morning, Princess!”
This shouldn't be working. It really shouldn't.
He smiled and returned the greeting. He had a character to maintain and manners to keep.
Through the ridiculous wooden soles he had procured, he was nearing the first hurdle of the entire plan: the door to actually get inside.
Here, Brandt was seriously hoping to fail or at least encounter far more resistance than he had prior.
Because if the ponies guarding this were just as bad or, dare he say it, worse than the normal guards, he would tear his real hair off and cry. Because that meant so much more work for him to try and fix all of this. And that meant that these ponies were not deserving of the title, “elite.”
The ponies in question; the Elite Royal Guards, were distinguishable by their sharper plumes, accented navy-blue full-body armor, and intimidating featureless masks.
By all accounts, they looked the part. But the question stood if whether or not they lived up to it.
This would be their test.
Brandt knew two of them were tasked to always watch the way into the massive library of books, tomes, and scrolls.
So he stepped up and mustered all that he had. Let’s win us an Emmy. He raised his hand and—
“Oh, hi, Princess Celestia! What brings you here today?” one of them cheerfully asked.
Oh for fuck’s sake.
He forced himself to smile and not immediately break cover. Now how did the princess talk again? “Hello, my little ponies. I’ve come to… er, check out some books for work.”
“Oh, okay. Have a good time, princess!” he responded.
And for the second time, the doors closed behind him. Brandt once again found himself standing in his destination, with much less hassle—mind you—than the first set of guards he had met. Granted, some of the trouble had been self-generated. But still! How could guards this… incompetent even serve as guards? How had this country not fallen into lawless anarchy!?
This is all so hopeless. And so he wanted to punch something.
Badly.
“Princess Celestia! I didn’t expect to see you here!” someone called out, trotting over to him. He spun around with much difficulty to face a purple unicorn mare. He gave up and decided to stop halfway. “Did you need something?”
He blanched (which really didn’t matter considering he was starch white). Who was this again? “Oh, yes, I needed a couple of tomes for a… project of mine… er…” She looked familiar enough. He had been briefed on VIPs before he left, however, the only three he bothered to remember were the three princesses, considering they were classified as high-value targets and should have their safety prioritized first and foremost. The rest… not so much. They received the “I’ll use my phone to remember who they were” treatment.
“Princess? Are you okay?”
He racked his mind to try and remember who he was talking to. Well, you miss all the shots you don’t take. Here goes nothing. “...Twiggle Sprinkles?” The name sounds pony enough.
“Twiggle” made a face mixed with both confusion and shock. “Wh… what? Princess, did you forget my name?” She narrowed her eyes in suspicion.
SHIT, YOU MISSED THE TARGET BY A MILE, BRANDT. ABORT. SAVE THIS, DAMNIT. “Haaah… I, uh, that, was just a test! I was just testing you, of course.” Smooth, Brandt. She’s totally going to sound the—
“A test!?” she cried, demeanor immediately flipping. Or not. “Oh no, oh no, oh no! I didn’t study for this!? Is this a verbal or written test!?” She began hyperventilating and rapidly pacing back and forth. She began speaking to herself, however, that muttering had quickly devolved into utter nonsense as she began shooting frenzied glances at him.
“Uh, you can pass if you just tell me your name.” Was it really going to be this easy?
“Is this a trick question? No, that wouldn’t make sense… but what if…?” she whispered, tapping a hoof to her chin. “The princess could always just…”
“It’s not a trick question, just tell me your name.”
“Hm… that could also be a trick to trick me into believing—”
“Name,” he pressed. “What does everyo-erk, everypony call you?”
She paused, her breathing falling into a quiet lull. “I’ve only got one shot at this… I hope it’s right…” she muttered. The unicorn took a deep breath. “Twilight Sparkle!” Once she had announced that, she curled back, praying that she had answered correctly.
“Sure. You pass, Twilight.”
“Yesssss!” Twilight’s eyes glimmered with happiness, looking almost ready to burst. However, she kept that restrained.She seemed to be really proud of her achievement. That was actually kinda cute. Like seeing your little sister boasting about an A+, kind of cute.
“Well, that was nice, but I must be going. I have a schedule to maintain, after all,” Brandt said, trying to end the conversation as fast as he could. Too late did he realize that he spoke in his normal voice.
But Twilight smiled anyway, oblivious to the sudden shift in her “mentor’s” voice. “I understand perfectly, princess! I hope you have a good day!”
As he began noisily walking away, Twilight turned back around.
“Wait,” she said. Brandt froze. “You’re heading to the Forbidden Section?”
Right, of course, that’s a thing. “Yes…?” Does it have a password I wonder? Probably.
“Oh! Well, if you need us, I can have the girls assembled in two minutes!” she said proudly. “Believe me, we practiced!”
“Yes, of course, thank you again, Twilight.” He watched her trot away and sit by a stack of books, dutifully putting them away. He tilted his head. “Twilight.”
“Yes?” Her ears perked up. “Could I be of help, perhaps? I’ve helped to categorize half of the archives, and I would love to help with any project you have! I, um, also haven’t broken your trust regarding some of the stuff in the Forbidden Section, I’ve stayed away from the books you told me not to touch.”
“I have another test for you.”
“O-Oh,” she squeaked. “Wh-what is it?”
“Could you recite the password for the Forbidden Section?”
He had everything. The motive, the question, and the proof.
Now it was time to let the dominoes fall.
Brandt had an emergency meeting request sent out to all the other princesses about an hour ago, which meant they would be arriving soon enough in Canterlot Castle’s war room. He, however, had stopped by Princess Celestia’s office to personally talk with her.
The man fixed his tie and stepped in, walking past a confused Raven.
“Mister Brandt, it’s quite nice to see you again, but I would like to ask,” Princess Celestia greeted, “why you decided to call an emergency meeting involving the royalty of Equestria and its subsidiaries?” She smiled. “I’m sure it’s quite important, but I would just like to know your reasoning.”
“It’s quite simple, Your Highness,” he replied. He gently laid his hands onto the table and looked her in the eye. “Your guards are idiots.”
“P-Pardon?”
“Complete morons! And that’s the nice way of putting it!” he half-shouted. “I’m sure the civilians have their excuses, but the guards should be no exception!” He cleared his throat. “And so I’ve already deduced from my week-long stay here why Equestria is in dire straits regarding security. And how much harder my job is going to be,” he added.
The alicorn made a blank face, she had truly thought this was an emergency—but it was just a pony crying timberwolf. No longer all that worried, the princess only raised a brow as she sipped from her tea. “I’m quite sure that’s an exaggeration, Mister Brandt.”
He could feel the anger building from her nonchalant response. “It’s… it’s not! I walked into your castle without showing any credentials whatsoever!” he shot back. Then he walked to the window and pointed to the front gate being overlooked. “And that! Why is there no one standing guard there?” He hissed and waved his hand dismissively. “Ack, nevermind. How about I show you what I mean?”
“Very well,” she said. “Show me then, Royal Security Advisor Brandt.”
Brandt smiled. Hook, line, sinker. “Alright. Why don’t we make our way to the war room then?”
“We must be heading there anyway, so I don’t see any wrong in that. Let’s be off then, RSA Brandt.”
“Ladies first,” he replied, pulling the exit open and gesturing for her to make her move.
The princess smiled and thanked him, leaving her office. She made a small “o” with her mouth and walked next to Raven. She leaned over. “Raven, would you please hold the schedule until the situation is resolved?”
The mare nodded. “This’ll wreak havoc on that…” she murmured. “But you’re the princess.”
With no real sense of urgency, the duo made their way out and to the royal throne room.
Princess Celestia stopped as Brandt pulled a beaten, half torn rubber horse mask from his pocket. "What is that?" she asked, rotating her head to get the full picture.
"A disguise. An admittedly terrible one," Brandt said, chuckling as he pulled the deformed mask over his head. "During the week, I ran an experiment… testing the waters, so to say. It turned out to be a monumental success! But…! But! You see, a good scientist never leaves themselves with such a small data pool. So I asked myself, how far could I go with all of this?”
“And so…” the princess motioned for him to continue. The man grinned from underneath his mask.
“And so, I came to this conclusion,” he spread his arms and posed for the whole world to see. “Still human from the neck down, the mask doesn't blink, and the face only has one expression. But just watch."
The solar alicorn huffed, secretly disguising amusement beneath her expression. “This will never work. My guards are trained far too well to fall for something so… inane.”
He rolled his eyes. Brandt then walked, still on two legs, to the door of the royal throne room, and cleared his throat. “It is I, your princess, Luna! Wonder over yonder! I have arrived on call regarding an emergency!” He pranced around, speaking in a janky mix of modern and old Equuish. "I needeth be let into the throne room, right away!"
The guard saluted, tense. “Understood, Your Highness! We’ll be ready at any moment should you need us!”
“Why thank you, Sir Knight!” Brandt placed a hand on the flimsy snout, practically smashing his hand against and causing it to wobble back and forth. He made a smacking noise with his lips and sent a flying kiss. “A good knight should always be rewarded for thine deeds!”
The stallion blushed, bashfully looked away, and pawed the ground. “I’m… I’m j-just doing my job, Ma’am!”
The doors were opened and so was Celestia’s mouth.
Brandt turned around to face the shocked pony, an aura of smugness radiating off of him.
“There’s your proof, Your Highnesses.” Brandt tapped for the video recording to end. “Genuine, one-hundred-percent unscripted, proof.”
He had shown them each experiment he had run, posing as several different ponies with a varying spectrum of disguises, each one of them meeting the test success criteria with relative ease. They started with the first one he had conducted in the archives and ended with the most recent throne room guard.
“But that cannot be…”
“If you still don't believe me,” he started, heaving a stack of books onto the table, “I went ahead and managed to get these from the Forbidden section of your archives.”
The three alicorns all paused for a moment to consider everything the human had shown them. Events that could’ve been prevented if the solar regiment of guards weren’t as clueless as what had been shown to them. All this time, they had been fooled into thinking they were the best of the best.
“HA!” Princess Luna suddenly cried out, slamming one hoof on the table and pointing another at her sister. “Your guards are stupid and by extension highlight your inadequacies as a ruling figure! Therefore, I am far superior compared to you as my guards do not suffer from the same problems! HA!”
Princess Celestia’s face morphed into one would see whenever someone was, quote, “fed up with someone’s shit.” The solar diarch sighed. “I suppose you’re correct, sister.”
“HAHAHAHA!” she cackled, tears forming in her eyes. She looked joyfully at the confused human. “Mister Brandt, you are hereby decreed as my new favorite creature! Come, we must celebrate ‘Tia’s stupidity with barrels of spirit!”
She squeezed Brandt with a bear hug to convey her obvious joy.
“Well, Princess Luna,” he wheezed. “Your guards aren’t without fault, either.”
The younger sister recoiled. “What!? What do you mean!?”
He wriggled out of her grip and gasped for air once he was free. Alicorns sure were incredibly strong. He propped himself against the table, raising a single finger to ask for a moment. After catching his breath, he straightened up as best he could. “Well, aside from your solar division, I also tried something with Luna’s lunar counterpart.”
He hobbled to the laptop and tapped on a video file labeled, “VID_679.mov”
Luna looked horrified.
Truth be told, Equestria’s night sky was breathtaking.
Their lack of industrialism had basically prevented light pollution in major cities, coupled with their environmentally-friendly magical substitutes, left everything open for observation.
His hometown had nothing on this.
Brandt sighed and shook his head. He wasn’t here to gawk at some pretty lights in the sky. No, he was on a mission. Mostly to test if something would really work.
Granted, he was getting his information based off of human folklore, and his assumptions could probably be categorized as racist.
Interestingly, he learned that Luna took her guard training far more seriously than her sister did. Thankfully, that translated into them also being far more competent guardsmen than their daytime counterparts. They even managed to point out his poorly constructed disguise and attempted to detain him before he showed them his credentials and reasons. He felt proud that they could do so!
And then he didn’t, because that was how a normal guard was supposed to act.
The only downside it seemed was that Luna’s guards were nocturnals, rendering them practically useless for half of the waking day. They also looked like bats! Pointier ears, fangs, and leathery wings. Except you would never actually call them bat-ponies. Or vampires. That was the same thing as using a derogatory slur, apparently.
Instead, they preferred “Nocturnes,” or “Thestrals.”
This was the main reason why he was out here and not in the castle itself. To see if the Thestrals had any exploitable flaws.
So it came clear to him that the feeling on his back was most likely shame and guilt for even wanting to try this out.
He reminded himself this was for the good of Equestria.
He snorted to himself. “This wouldn't be happening if they just worked them a little harder and trained them a bit better.”
Brandt shook his head and looked into his bag. It was always good to check that everything he intended to put was actually inside before he decided to start anything. He tapped a finger against the fairly strong LED, a clove of garlic, and a vial of blood. He zipped up the bag. All check. All good to go.
He jogged out of the balcony and towards the direction of the lunar barracks.
This experiment was simpler than the rest. Collect three separate groups of volunteers, all consenting and willing to follow through. Then, present them with the object and record their reactions. For this experiment, success was an amorphous outcome, considering if it even existed. This was more like data collection. If anything, the success of this experiment would tell him how easily lunar guards could be neutralized.
His fingers were crossed that this would end in failure.
He looked to the pony in the watchtower, who was responsible for checking who or what entered the barracks. Moving in without their go-ahead would elicit a warning shot, with repeated infractions escalating from there. The thestral brought up a pair of binoculars and stared at him for a couple of seconds. They were soon lowered and a salute was sent his way. Brandt returned the gesture and walked inside.
Most of the ponies were out of uniform and simply lounging about, talking or drinking in their mess hall. Or, well, it lacked a roof, so that word may not be the right fit. “Eh, whatever,” he said to no one in particular. Brandt walked to the highest spot in the area: a small stage-like platform. Raising his hand and his voice, he spoke. “If I could get everybody’s attention, please?”
They stopped conversing amongst themselves and all slowly turned to face him. Soon enough, the entire place was quiet. Luna trained them good. That was the fastest I’ve seen a room this large go silent.
“Alright. So I need a couple of volunteers to help me out with some simple tests,” he announced, pulling out the three objects. “A LED lamp –” he flicked it on “– so I can see—”
“LIGHT!” one of them cried out, a mare, it sounded like. “LIGHT!” she repeated, wings fluttering.
Once uninterested heads found their way towards him, or rather, the object he was holding. Their pupils shrank to pinpricks as they gazed into it, entranced by the hypnotic powers of the LED. Slowly, they got up and began surrounding the stage.
It began as a low rumble, quiet and near silent, however, it picked up as if it were a rolling snowball. The word they repeated shook the heavens with the volume it was spoken in. “LIGHT! LIGHT! LIGHT! LIGHT!” they chanted, bordering cultist levels of fanaticism.
One of the thestrals, donning a suit of armor with darker shades of black leaped up into the air. “BROTHERS AND SISTERS! WE MUST SECURE THE LIGHT!” That’s the lunar guard captain!
They roared in unified agreement, stomping their hooves and clambering over each other. “LIGHT! LIGHT! LIGHT! LIGHT!”
Holy fuck they’re like moths.
It was terrifying, really, to be surrounded by a sea of enthralled ponies.“Fuck it, here, take it! I’m not going to die because of a stupid LED!” Brandt tossed the thing into the air, where it was immediately snatched by a nearby pony.
“I HAVE ACQUIRED THE LIGHT!”
“LIGHT! LIGHT! LIGHT! LIGHT!”
“And that was how I rendered an entire lunar guard camp, useless.”
Princess Celestia had bowled over, dying. Her face was contorted in pain as she laughed so hard no sound came out.
Princess Luna screeched, pointing an accusatory hoof at the human. “That cannot be! THAT IS IMPOSSIBLE! Captain Dazzle would never let something like happen to himself! THIS IS FAKE.”
“I know him… he would never participate in something like this.” Princess Cadance coughed. “But, Captain Dazzle was the one who rallied your forces to secure the lamp, auntie. You saw him in the video.”
The dark alicorn knew this. She was simply in denial. Her niece’s words broke the dam.
“NOOOOOOOOOOO!” Princess Luna cried, slamming her hooves on the table like a toddler. “IT’S NOT FAAAAAAIR!”
While both mares were in differing states of emotions—both sobbing for different reasons, Brandt stood at the front, poker face never wavering. “I know it’s hilarious, but the state of your forces are no joke. Princesses, I implore you… and none of you are paying attention.”
“I am, Brandt,” Princess Cadance reassured. “It’s quite alarming that this is… how easily we can be defeated.”
“It is,” he replied. “I seriously ask myself day and night why your country hasn’t been taken over by someone else.”
The alicorn shrugged. “Well, when you have two immortal ponies who have the power to move celestial bodies –” she glanced at the two acting like foals “– not their most flattering moment… most tend to steer clear.”
“I see… but relying so heavily on two ponies to defend an entire country… is not healthy.”
“It isn’t,” the princess sighed. “And what makes this so much worse is that my husband was in charge of all of this before he left. It… worries me a bit. So… I’ve been thinking... after you’re done tearing down my aunties’ forces, would you mind coming to the Crystal Empire?”
“I read up about the Crystal Empire,” Brandt replied. “It falling can be catastrophic for the whole of Equestria. So, I’m obliged to do what I can for you, too.”
Brandt looked out the window, staring at the passing landscape.
Maybe one day when he’d rack up enough vacation days, he’d take a trip around Equestria. Exploring and experiencing what the new land had to offer. That sounded pretty nice.
But right now? He had a job to do. And that was to hit the good ol’ ponies of the Crystal Guard with a nice big bat called, “stop being stupid,” at the behest of its ruling monarch. Because apparently, this was what his job had boiled down to.
He turned around to face back into the passenger car.
Sadly, he made the one-in-a-while mistake of forgetting to charge his phone, leaving him without a source of entertainment. Equestria, sadly enough, had yet to completely integrate modern technology into their daily lives. So that meant no charging stations aboard this ride. Leaving him with nothing else to do besides observing the other commuters in a non-disturbing fashion or going through some light paperwork.
“Might as well get started,” he sighed, pulling out a pen and the briefcase, alongside some forms he believed would be good at passing the time. “Which one…? Agh, whatever is the least annoying.”
He tapped the pen against his stubbled chin, humming to himself. The car was awfully quiet. A confirming glance told him that the place was… empty.
Well, save for the one pony sitting at the far end of the cabin.
He blinked and leaned in to look at the only other passenger. Most ponies hardly ever had truly-black fur and those who came close were actually a very dark gray. This one, however, looked like someone had dipped them in ink and then sprayed them with a finish. Leaving their outer surface… shiny…
A bug shell. Yes, that was the word for it! Wait, hold up. He stood up. A bug shell? Pony-looking bug… “Changeling…” he whispered. He spun around to see if there was anyone else. “No one but me and them. I hope.”
They don’t look to be doing anything but sitting there. And they’re undisguised. Did they miss me or something? There was something sitting on their face. It was… a piece of paper with a drawing of a pony face on it. Oh for the love of god, does that thing expect that to work?
He walked over and sat down next to the changeling, his right hand resting on the holster. The startled bug snapped to face him. “How’s your day going?” Brandt greeted.
“Uh, iz good,” they replied, fidgeting. He forced back the laugh from how terrible the attempted accent was.
“Anything bugging you?”
“N-No, I... iz good.”
“Mhm,” he said as he crossed his legs. “You’re not a changeling, right?”
That immediately set them on the defensive. “NO! No! I am pony! Pony from Ponyville… EQUESTRIA! I from Equestria!” they shrieked. The obviously-a-changeling furiously waved their forehooves back and forth. “Not changeling!”
“Right,” Brandt chuckled, not bothering to hide his laughter. Ponyville? That’s got to be the stupidest fake town name for a backstory. Did he even try? “What’s your name, then?”
“Uh…” The changeling tapped their head, most likely trying to think of a believable pony name. They obviously hadn’t thought this out. “Uhm… I am… I am Hooorsseee?”
“Hooo-are-si?”
“Yes!, Yes, am Hoooaresi!” they said, nodding their head to the point where it looked ready to fall off. However, the rapid head movement was far too much for the simple string attachment keeping the mask secure to their face, and it flew off and smacked the back of their head.
“Mr. Hooaresi, your face fell off.”
“Wait, it did?” they asked. “Oh, er, I mean, oh, no! My face iz broken! Am need medikal assist!”
“You can stop now,” Brandt deadpanned. “You’re not very good at this, are you?”
He was lucky the changeling knew when to admit defeat. They sighed. “I’m supposed to be really good! I fooled three ponies on my way here.”
“And what’d you do? Only wave at them?”
“...yes.” The changeling shuffled their hooves.
I think this problem goes deeper than just the guards. I'm lucky I caught them before they entered the Empire itself. God knows what he'd do in there. “And you’re heading to the Crystal Empire by yourself?”
He looked away. “I am… by myself.”
Brandt couldn’t lie that he was mildly interested in their story. “I thought you guys always traveled in groups—a swarm, I think it was called. Can I ask why you're alone?”
They were silent for the longest time as they stared blankly ahead. “I’m… I’m an outcast. I was in the Invasion of Canterlot… but I couldn’t bring myself to fight… so I tried to desert. However, the squad leader caught me and broke my legs and wings so I couldn’t escape. She told me they would deal with me after they won.”
Brandt interlocked his hands and placed them on the upper knee. “That's... damn.”
The changeling made no indicator to acknowledge his comment and simply continued. “So… so when they lost and we were scattered to the winds, I landed near a town, bleeding, starving, and dying. If it wasn’t for this little colt who came by and helped me, I would’ve joined the Grand Hive,” he whispered, barely audible. “He helped me back on my hooves and even told me stories about this place that existed solely because of love! And so… so I wanted to see it for myself. And I wished that maybe I could join them, under this disguise I was thinking about.”
He pulled out another mask, this one with a shiny-white pony on it. He hoofed it to Brandt, who stared at the drawing before flipping it around to get a full examination. “So you made this up?”
“The little colt helped me out. I filled in the rest with the little infiltrator training I had. Together, we crafted this.” He reached for the mask and Brandt gave it back. The changeling stared into icy-blue eyes of the disguise. “I named them ‘Black Diamond.’ They’re actually based off of that new story that Scout told me, about these ducklings and a swan chick. So the pony was born far away from the Crystal Empire, left with an ugly coal coat, made fun of because of it. It was until they came across this diamond they managed to find. The latent power in the crystal unlocked their crystal pony heritage and their fur took on a beautiful, jewel pattern. With renewed vigor, they leave their hometown to rejoin their fellow crystal ponies.”
Huh. I guess some human stuff does get read. “I see…”
The changeling gave a sad laugh, waving his mask around. He looked up to gaze into the empty train car. “L-Look at me, telling the complete stranger who caught me my life story. This wasn’t even a real interrogation and I caved—heck, I couldn't even act properly to avoid this. I’m pathetic. Some changeling I am.” He bit his lower lip and sniffled, holding back his tears.
“...”
They shared another moment of silence, listening to the train clack against the rails. The changeling placed the mask down. “So are you going to report me? I understand if you are go—”
“No.”
“...what?” he asked in disbelief.
Not everything is so black and white. He sighed. “You’ve been through enough suffering as it is. You don’t live up to the expectations of the monsters I expected, either. Really, I don’t think you should be paying for the sins of the masses.” He placed both feet on the floor. “You’re just a broken soul, searching for something to fill the hole, looking to fit in a world that persecutes you for your appearance. And besides, I think my mother would have my hind if I turned my back on my upbringings. I can't hate a man who did me no wrong.”
“I… I don’t know what to say…” he choked, wiping a forming tear away. “I’ve… I don’t...”
Brandt raised his hand to stop him. “How about this? You can start by telling me your name.”
The changeling froze. “I don’t have one…” he mumbled, inaudible to the human, as embarrassment and shame crept on his face.
“Pardon?”
“I don’t have one…” he repeated, louder this time. “I’m just another number.”
That was completely fucked. There was always more to a story once you heard what the other person had to say... but... things should never be this bad. A fire burned in his heart. “Well, that won’t do.” The human brought up his phone, staring at the shiny black surface of the screen. He hovered above the home button but stopped. “Your Queen’s name was Chrysalis, right?”
“Yes… she was one of the few who were awarded with names.”
Brandt frowned as he walked down memory lane. He landed on a specific set of memories from his childhood, playing in the dirt amongst the critters. “Thorax.”
“Huh?”
“Thorax. That was the name of the bug friend I had back when I was a kid. It was cute little beetle, no bigger than my finger. I remembered coming home from school and playing with it. They were… good times.”
The changeling blankly watched the clouds pass by. He could see his wings flutter slightly, buzzing like a bug's. “I… I like it.”
He smiled. “Well then, nice to meet you, Thorax,” he said, sticking his arm out. “I’m Brandt.”
