“Stand at attention! That means tall and proud you pack of mangy dogs! I want to see you looking like you’re ready to go out and fight to defend your country! Stand up like you’re actually proud of what you do! Alright, that’s more like it.” The sergeant, a tall gray pegasus with a short white tail, clad in the gray and gold plate armor of Pegastopolis, paced briskly in front of his troops. It was crucial that he rile them all up, invoke within them the spirit of a warrior, for most of them would not return.
A motley mix of pegasi stood before him, ranging from colts barely old enough to lift their swords to those old enough to actually join the guard. They all had been outfitted with the same gray and gold armor, which fit them poorly. Tall and short, thick and thin, they’d all be made to wear their barding. They were excited for their chance to prove their valor. From raised clouds on the side, their proud parents cheered, pushing them onwards to their rite of passage.
“As you well know,” he continued, now facing his troops, “the mighty walls of our city can stand against each and every petty threat thrown against them, save for one. And what is it that we are going to go and kill today, little fillies?”
Spears were waved in the air, swords were beaten against shields, and armored hooves stomped upon the thick clouds, creating a cacophony of metallic noise. Despite the raw energy it rang out with, it wasn’t louder than the eager yell that came up from the new recruits. “DRAGONS!”
The sergeant nodded his approval, and waited for the noise to die down a moment. “That’s right! We’re gonna go kill dragons today. It will be bloody, it will be messy, and not all of us will come back!” A cheer went up from the assorted pegasi. “That’s right! And those of you that do, you won’t be little wimpy colts any longer, you will be stallions! You will come home a paragon of male virtue, something that mares will throw themselves at with desperation! So tell me, do you want to come home empty hooved?”
“NO!”
“Do you want to come home with blood on your hooves?!”
“WE WANT BLOOD!”
“That’s right! You will come home with gore on your spears, shredded armor, burnt manes, and your hair matted with blood! When you are dripping red, the city will know that you are truly stallions! Now fly! Fly with me to the Dragon Peaks!”
With a rush of air, they took to the skies, powerful wings beating in chorus as the armored warriors left to defend their homes. It was but a few moments before training took over; they maneuvered into a well-spaced formation. In the case of a large dragon breathing fire, the large gaps in the flight would prevent the fire from killing more than one pegasus. On the edge of the horizon to the north, just visible through the haze of cloud lay a cluster of dark and jagged peaks -- the Dragon Peaks.
It was there that the ferocious and fire-breathing lizards made their homes and laid their eggs. They were powerful monsters of old that killed mercilessly, and had a particular taste for pony flesh. Every year, the tribes of earth ponies and unicorns paid tribute in food and gems, the scant thanks they could offer in reparation for the blood shed by the pegasi to save their homes and lives.
For so many pegasi wound up with adrenaline and bloodlust, it was but a matter of minutes before they got close enough to make out features of the mountains. Blackened and dead trees littered the slopes alongside charred and broken boulders. Higher they went, until caves began to marr the sides of the mountains.
“This is it, stay in formation!” yelled the sergeant over the roar of the wind. “You! What are you doing?!”
A blue pegasus colt, just large enough to fit into his armor raced through the air, his long white mane rippling in the wind. He clutched a spear in his teeth, and a youthful exuberance burned in his brown eyes. The sergeant dropped on him like Celestia’s fury from on high.
“The buck do you think you’re doing private?!”
“Going to kill dragons Sergeant Sharphooves!”
“The hay you are! What is your name private?”
“Private Zephyr!”
“Well Private Zephyr, as much as I want you to kill dragons, you never leave formation. Do you understand me!?” Sharphooves paused as the younger pegasus stared blankly. “Private Zephyr, are you even listening to me?!”
Zephyr sat up sharply in his desk as Mr. Chalk Stub marched down the row, a scowl on his face. The history teacher spat out the chalk stick, and leaned his forehooves down on the front of Zephyr’s desk. This gave the colt a lovely view of the brown and gray earth pony stallion, and blocked any view he could have stolen of the chalkboard.
“Well boy? I asked you a question. What was the biggest source of conflict in pre-Equestrian Pegastopolis?”
“Uhm…” stammered Zephyr. “Dragons?”
The rest of the class broke out into laughter as Chalk Stub’s eyes narrowed. “No. Why don’t you try that again?”
“Wendigos?” offered Zephyr, still trying to lean around to catch a view of the board.
“It seems history just isn’t very important to you, is it Zephyr? We’ve already sent you to the assistant principal's office once this week for failure to pay attention. You do this again, and we’re going to have to get your parents involved.” Chalk Stub turned around and trotted back up to the board. “Would somepony who was paying attention care to explain to Zephyr about the causes of major conflict for the city of Pegastoplis?”
“Oh!” cried a pink filly from the front row as her foreleg shot into the air.
“Yes, Honey Drop?”
“Early Pegastopolis had most of its conflicts in trade and diplomatic relationships with other nation-states such-as-but-not-limited-to trade of rain for food with the earth pony nation and bottled lightning with the unicorns for medicine, and their mutual agreement for self defense never could reach an accord for what portion of warriors would come from each tribe!” Honey Drop finished and took a deep breath.
“Very good! Looks like somepony did her reading. Now we’ll move on to talk about Unicornia.” The class all turned to new pages of their notebooks.
A warm current of air wafted from the fire up past the tapestries to the rafters of the grand hall. Knights in heavy armor holding lances glowing red and white with spellfire stood at attention up and down the hall of King Adamantine. The king himself sat at upon a marble throne, next to his daughter, both looking on with a detached elegance.
Chill winds blew in the hall, making the torches flicker, and the grinding of wood upon stone sounded as the heavy oaken doors to the hall opened. In marched a delegation of pegasi, marching in rank and file, resplendent in their heavy armor. Adamantine composed himself and prepared to address his guests, while Princess Platinum could barely conceal her excitement. She’d been waiting for this day a long time.
“Announcing the Honored Guard of His Greatness, Commander Hurricane!” bellowed the pegasus herald. “We bring the demanded tribute, a consort for Her Majesty, Princess Platinum.” The pegasi parted to reveal a blue and white young stallion, wearing a dress uniform. “We offer you Lieutenant Zephyr. May he be a token of our peaceful intent and alliance for many years to come. Lieutenant, please come forward and present yourself.”
Adamantine paused and rubbed his chin in confusion as Zephyr ignored the herald in favor of looking at the tapestries.
“Zephyr, are you zoning out again?!”
Author's Note
I seem to recall that in high school, I acted very much like Honey Drop. Not that I'm several years into college, I act a lot more like Zephyr. This story really reminds me of Calvin and Hobbes, except that Zephyr is supposed to be about fifteen, not six.
