The voice of the conductor rang out over the public address system. She notified all passengers on the train that they would be making a brief stop refill the water tanks of the engine. All riders were encouraged to visit the nearby village of Ponyville if they needed any refreshment or just wanted to stretch their legs. This would only be a fifteen minute delay. In the first class car, which now sported the winged and horned lighting bolt of the Thunder Colts coat-of-arms, this news was well received.

For the last five and one half hours, Free Lancer was riding in his own private Tartarus. The luxury car had wide windows that afforded a sprawling view the passing countryside, but did not open and were shatter proof. The vents along the top wainscot weren't wide or tall enough to really view the outside world. He was forced to rely on a mild sedative to combat his claustrophobia. He was still wracked with terrible anxiety; the severity of such caused the on-board physician to administer a stronger tranquilizer. That was a dangerous proposition in and of itself.

With the train pulling into Ponyville, it was proven that the gamble worked. The tranquilizer was wearing off and Free Lancer was still in one piece, psychologically speaking. He looked a wreck, with his mane and tail tangled badly. His coat was disheveled because in his drug induced stupor, Lancer drooled on himself. Yet the promise of fresh air and open space rejuvenated him, even if it as only for a few minutes. He quickly cleaned himself of drool and ran a brush through his tangles.

The train was now stopping. Porters went through every compartment in each car to ensure which passengers would be venturing outside. Free Lancer jumped at the chance when offered. He was off the train so fast, his cohort couldn’t keep pace.

“AIR!” exclaimed Lancer when he broke onto the platform.

He was surprised by the scene that was laid out before him. The conductor referred to Ponyville as a village. Yet, from what Lancer saw from the platform, Ponyville was as big as a large town or small city! Cumulus with its three levels was a medium sized city. According to Speak Easy, one of Lancer’s unicorn tutors who lived in Canterlot, the Royal Seat was a metropolis-slash-fortress.

“I am so out of my element right now…”

Just then, a young mare appeared in front of him. Her pink coat and deep pink mane set her apart from the other ponies milling about the platform. Her voice carried over the din of bustling city life. The festive pony was bouncing on her hooves, shilling baked goods for a local shop. A sign nailed above a heavily laden kiosk read “Sugar Cube Corner Confectionery.” Lancer’s stomach awoke with a vengeance at the sight of the baked goods. Picking his way through the crowd, Free Lancer made his way to the kiosk.

“Hi-hi-hi there!” said the candy colored pony, “how are you?”

“Good after,” replied Lancer, “I am starved! How much are those chocolate cupcakes?”

“Five bits!” answered the festive mare, “and when you buy a dozen, you get a free pie!”

“<Meraviglioso!†> I’ll take four dozen, if you please.”

The young pony gathered forty-eight of the frosted confections into four boxes and bundled them with four covered pie tins.

“Twenty bits, please!”

Lancer searched his coin purse for the right currency.

“<Cos'è questa?‡> Lucre, lucre, lucre, lucre; where, by Mustang, are all my bits?”

Giggling, the candied pony asked, “Who is Mustang?”

“Mustang is the Patron Saint of the Thunder Colts.” Lancer answered.

“Thundercolts?” queried the mare, “are they anything like the Wondercolts?”

“Wonder- Colts?” Lancer questioned as he finally pulled twenty freshly minted bits from his purse and placed them on the kiosk shelf, “I have no idea who they are.”

The mare gasped then went into a breathless diatribe about the Wondercolts. For an exacting five minutes, the candied pony broke out an excited description of Equestria’s premier show ponies. Lancer was following the speech intently but the mare was speaking so quickly he didn't get most of it. What he did get was disparate snatches of varying interest: a good friend who was a “rainbow dashing”, various sound effects describing action, a brief explanation of some sporting competition, a city in the clouds.

“Oh-oh-oh, the Wondercolts will be flying for Twi- I mean Princess Twilight Sparkle’s birthday next month! My invitation already arrived in the mail-!”

Lancer interrupted, “Wait-wait-wait, you know Princess Twilight Sparkle?”

“Oh, the Princess? Of course I do! She’s my bestest friend! I've known for years and years. She used to live right here in Ponyville.”

“You don’t say?” Lancer pondered, “What are you called, if I may ask?”

“Don’t be silly, of course you can ask! I’m Pinkie Pie!”

As if bidden, a hidden cannon fired, throwing confetti and balloons into the air. Free Lancer’s focus was keenly bent toward telekinetically keeping his purchases aloft. The cannon blast startled him, sending his sweets flying akimbo. Acting on instinct, Lancer took to wing and nabbed all of his snacks with bursts of midnight colored magic from his horn. When he touched down, his acquisitions now firmly held by sorcery, he found the platform eerily quite. The ponies milling about were in a state of awe at the site of him; several fillies nearby stood frozen in shock. A passing unicorn stallion’s hoof falls resounded like thunder claps in the hush. Everypony had the same question on their minds, but none were brave enough to ask it. It was Pinkie Pie who broke the silence, though her voice wavered profoundly.

“Who- What are you?”

“My name is Free Lancer and I am a Thunder Colt.”

↯

Lancer was bustled back onto the train because of the rush of curious ponies threatening to tramp him. Once secured aboard, his security cohort rested and ate. Lancer himself was muzzle deep in a boysenberry pie. Liberty Belle was staggering daggers at him in between bites of chocolate cupcake. Free Fall, stunned mute by his lord’s actions, struggled with thoughts not normally bidden in his mind. At length, his tongue loosened and began to chastise against Free Lancer.

“My lord, that was reckless and foolish! You may have just compromised our mission here in Equestria‼”

Swallowing a piece of pie, Lancer answers, “ I've compromised nothing on this mission. I was interacting with local ponies. That is part of our mission. Mind you, this isn't entirely the way I wanted that interaction to commence, but I was able to gain much wisdom.”

“And what wisdom,” Liberty Belle seethed, “did we gain by starting a complete and total riot ‽”

Lancer replied, “It has been learned that Equestrians are a peaceful and orderly herd. They are celebratory; it can be said that they are a joyous herd of much diversity. And Equestrian ponies, in our long absence, have the Thunder Colts in myth long forgotten.”

“We- we are- forgotten?” Sovereign Realm asked.

“Unfortunately, yes. That pony I was speaking with, Pinkie Pie methinks? From what I gathered from her, it has been some time since the sight or sound of any Thunder Colt has been beheld in these parts. That mare had me confused from something called ‘Wondercolts,’ whoever they are. It surprised her that I had no knowledge of them!”

Free Reign had a concerned look on her face. This news was a serious blow to her quest. The idea that Thunder Colts had passed out of mind and into fable dashed what little hopes she held.

“No- That- <Frattellino°,> please, we can’t-!”

“<Cognata∙,> we may be relegated to myth by most of Equestria, but I’m certain sure that Princesses Celestia and Luna still remember us. They are alicorns, after all.”

Free radical gasps, “Princess Luna, sir‽ Isn't she imprisoned in the moon?”

“Not anymore, Radical,” Lancer says, “she’s free and been reformed for the last three years or the last twelve seasons.”

“For that long?” Radical pondered, “Next you’ll tell me that L- uh, Discord has been loosed upon Equestria!”

Free Lancer laughed nervously.

“Come off it! Seriously‽”

“I’m as serious as foot and mouth disease, Sergeant. He’s using his magic to help Equestria, not hinder it. Princess Twilight Sparkle was part of the team that reformed him. Jury’s still out if he’ll stay that way.”

There were many in the company that sat uneasy with this information. Even though it’s been more than a millennia since Discord was defeated, most Thunder Colts have trouble mentioned that name. Many of the older ponies still refer to him as “Lord Discord.” Most members of Manor Free have rid themselves of this particular habit.

“So much change in so little time…” remarked Sovereign.

“Four centuries is ‘little time’ for you?”

“You’re young still, Lord Free Lancer,” proclaimed Sovereign, “you haven’t lived for centuries and thus know nothing of time’s alacrity. To you, a year must seem an eternity, but my five centuries have come and gone in a blink of an eye.”

“So you remember a time when Thunder Colts where far more commonplace in Equestira?”

“Aye, I can. There was a time when we Thunder Colts were as numerous as earth ponies.”

“No doubt.”

“The train is moving again.” interjects Free Radical.

Indeed, the train was moving. Porters moved throughout the train, closing off entry ramps; the conductor has called “All Aboard!” Soon, the train pulls out of the Ponyville station. Lancer’s panic begins to rise again. He has naught to distract him save the last few cupcakes and his last pie.

It doesn't take long before the train passes through a tunnel. The dark passage does nothing to alleviate Lancer’s fear. But once through the tunnel, he sees a welcome sight: the banners of Canterlot. Within moments, the conductor is announcing the final stop. The company begins to organize itself to disembark. Cloaks and capes are draped on backs; luggage is retrieved from the baggage car. From the windows, buttresses and parapets zoom by. The train begins to decelerate.

Porters come down the aisles barking, “Canterlot Station! Pulling into Canterlot Station! Please be advised, all visitors to Canterlot may be subject to screening. If Palace Guards approach you, you have been selected for screening. Failure to comply is not recommended.”

“That sounds new,” Liberty Belle commented, “wonder when that was implemented?”

“I’m not sure,” Free fall admitted, “Our most recent communique with the advanced team mentioned nothing of this.”

“It must have occurred recently,” Free Reign surmised, “probably within the last two days or so. The last dispatch from advance was two days ago!”

Free Fall concurs, “There has not been any further dispatches since that time.”

“Then we play this by ear,” announces Free Lancer, “if any of us is singled out for inspection, that party member should submit themselves for screening. All others will rally at the baggage claim to wait the inspected. <Capisce?>”

The company responds with, “<Cosi 'diciamo tutti.*>”

“Alright Thunder Colts, fall in behind me!” Free Lancer orders.

The train slows to a stop and Lancer’s branch of the diplomatic corps is aligned behind him in a delta formation. He can see already that the Princesses have organized a welcoming committee. An area of the platform has been cordoned off; hanging form the rafters is a huge banner with the words “Welcome to Canterlot, Freelancer!” emblazoned on it. Several members of the advance team were there, so were a contingent of Palace guards. Princess Celestia and Luna were also there along with a small army of journalists and paparazzi.

“Oh great-!” Lancer laments, “Okay, Thunder Colts, smile pretty for the cameras!”

Author's Note

It's never really shown if the Royal Guard of Canterlot has any military training. I guess TVY is not the place for warfare or military discipline. In this chapter, though, I hope to show the sort of regimental/Spartan existence they have, but also some aspect of their polyglot-ism.
† Italian for "wonderful."
‡ Italian for "what's this."
° Italian for "little brother."
∙ Italian for "sister-in-law."
* Italian: So say we all.