Unlike What We Remember

The next day

Every day at noon, the Day Guard recruits took a break for lunch, which lasted half an hour, recorded to the second by the castle’s magically-maintained clocks. Bullwhip, the drill sergeant, hardly ever actually ate during this time; he could do that while the recruits were at their ‘desk lessons’, as he called them. Noon was for any emergency paperwork, such as signing in a new recruit halfway through the training period.

Shining Armor’s request had come as a shock that morning, and Bullwhip had asked to see the recruit with his own eyes during the break. Skipper had followed complacently, knowing it would help him get into the Guard. The drill sergeant looked him up and down slowly, taking in every inch of the white stallion and scratching his muzzle occasionally. It was almost a minute before any of them spoke. “I dunno, Captain,” Bullwhip mused. “I don’ think I can take ‘im on.”

Before Shining could say anything, Skipper spoke up. “What is it about me?” he asked bluntly, giving a look that was probably meant to be neutral, but Shining deduced that what he considered ‘neutral’ wasn’t what most ponies would. Bullwhip was already sweating slightly under the gaze of the much younger stallion, and the Captain had to step in.

“Would you wait outside for a bit? I think you’re...” Skipper’s ears fell, which seemed disingenuous next to his hard eyes, but he stepped through the door as requested even before the sentence ended. “I don’t think he needs to hear this. He’s a little bit... unstable.”

“That’s what gets me about ‘im, sir,” Bullwhip replied. “I could see it in his eyes. It’s always th’ eyes. Everythin’ ya need to know about a pony, from you t’ Celestia ‘erself. ‘E’s unstable, alright, in th’ way a manticore is grouchy. ‘E’s unhinged, is what he is. I dunno what could do that to a pony, but...”

“Neither do we, but that’s not important. It’s because he’s unstable that he needs somepony capable of teaching him stability. And I know nopony better at teaching that than you. You’ve drilled even the rowdiest of recruits into shape, or at least shown them they aren’t up to it.”

“Th’ rowdy ones’re easy, sir. It’s th’ quiet ones y’have to look out for. Ya can never tell how close they are t’ breaking point. And comin’ in ‘alfway through the season... I dunno how the other recruits will take it, or what they’ll try an’ do t’ ‘im.”

“You shouldn’t have to break up more than one fight,” Shining replied, looking away. “Count on it.”

Bullwhip seemed confused at the statement, but quickly understood. He didn’t have many book smarts, but he knew what a drill sergeant had to. “Might I ask ‘ow old ‘e is?” he said. “For th’ paperwork, y’see. ‘E didn’t look seventeen t’me.”

“Nineteen, apparently. He’s a day younger than his sister, or so she tells me.”

“Nineteen? Empty sky, ‘ow can a pony o’ nineteen ‘ave eyes like ‘is?”

“He doesn’t tell anypony, and I’m almost afraid to pry myself...”

“Well, ‘e’ll probably come out in ‘is own time. For now, I can take ‘im on. Just give me more warning next time yer goin’ t’ do somethin’ like this, will ya?”

“I promise. Anything for the best drill sergeant the Day Guard’s ever had.”

“‘Ey, ye’ve been captain less time’n I’ve been drill sergeant!” Bullwhip laughed, the comment being made in good cheer. It was true that Shining Armor was the youngest Captain of the Royal Guard in history, but he handled the job surprisingly well. It helped that he was willing to delegate, and to trust in his subordinates. That endeared him to the others, and even Cumulus had to admit that the Captain was good at both his job, and at working out what was his job.

When he heard the laughter inside, Skipper poked his head through the door, and Bullwhip nodded. “I’ll introduce ya t’ th’ lads. Just don’ expect t’ be makin’ any friends any time soon. They won’t care a whit for ya comin’ in halfway through the season.”

“Works for me,” Skipper replied, and once again, Bullwhip wasn’t sure what to make of his tone. Well, worse comes to worst, Cumulus can sort ya out, he thought. Crazy bastard’d get through to even you, and no mistake.

“Noon break should nearly be over by now,” Bullwhip said as they approached the recruits’ barracks. “I’ll slot ya in with th’ others when it’s time fer afternoon drills. Just do what the others do and ye’ll do fine. Plenty o’ numbskulls in th’ bunch, so explainin’ shouldn’t be a problem.

“RIGHT!” he suddenly shouted at the top of his voice, causing Skipper to flinch beside him. “Fall into line, ya worthless maggots! And you too, ya skiver!” He gave Skipper a shove into the group, and he found himself unsure of what to do for the first time in a while. Gradually, he figured out that they were standing in ranks, similar to the daily lineup of the survivors, only with a few more ponies.

After about a minute, twenty-four ponies were standing in a rectangle, three deep by eight across. “That was too slow!” Bullwhip shouted. “Just ‘cause ya haven’t seen somepony before don’t mean ya can get away with bein’ slow under my watch! For that, the whole lot of ya get fifty! Company, DROP!”

The other ponies all dropped into a push-up position, and Skipper followed with a moment’s hesitation. “Hey, Whitey! You in the back row! Didn’t think I’d see ya bein’ slower’n th’ others? Well, ye’ve got another thing comin’. Seventy-five push-ups! On the double!” He blew a whistle, and everypony pushed downwards, coming back up with another peep.

Skipper’s usual fighting style involved ending them quickly, using his Pegasus speed to take down opponents. His core strength, as a result, was severely lacking. By the time the other recruits had finished fifty push-ups, he’d only done thirty, and he felt like every part of his body was on fire. He tried to leave, but Bullwhip insisted that nopony was goin’ nowhere ‘til ‘e’d finished the whole seventy-five. After he’d pushed himself up to fifty, he was allowed to take it more slowly, but he still collapsed outright as soon as he’d reached the last one.

“Normally, I’d have ya do some weapon drills, but since yer new friend’s new t’ exercise, it’s already time fer yer desk lessons.” The last two words came out of Bullwhip’s mouth with more than a hint of derision. “Fall out. And Whitey, don’t think I’ll let ya off easy tomorrow, either.”

Barely able to walk straight enough to enter the classroom building, Skipper couldn’t muster the energy even to think about what he’d done. Breathe, Mitsuyoshi’s voice reminded him. Always remember to breathe, no matter how stressed you are. If you ever get locked up, you’re finished. As he filled into the only empty desk, he started breathing slowly as he looked up at the weathered grey pony standing in front of the class.

“Good afternoon,” he said in a voice that betrayed no emotion. His smile seemed entirely fake, as though he’d read about emotions in a book once, but never quite got the hang of them. “Today, we’ll be continuing where we left off yesterday. Can anypony tell me where that was?”

No answer was forthcoming until a hoof shot up at the back of the class. “The last war between us and the Griffon Kingdom, sir,” the Unicorn mare replied.

“Very good, Weather Vane,” the teacher replied. “The Griffon Kingdom has always seen warfare as part of its culture, its very being. With such a long time of peace, their king, Harald IV, had believed that the griffons were going to soften up and be defeated if anything did happen. He believed this of the pony race as well, and so he made an expansionist bid...”

Skipper quickly began to tune out the lesson. History had never interested him, and Mitsuyoshi had stopped bringing it up after a few failed attempts. He started looking around the classroom, trying to get the measure of all the other ponies there. In particular, ‘Weather Vane’ seemed to be the most focused on the lesson, which in his book would normally have marked her as too intellectual for her own good, but she’d finished the fifty push-ups with the rest of the unit...

A piece of chalk bounced off his head suddenly, and a few other recruits stifled laughs as he quickly turned back towards the front. “Could you explain to me why you were not concentrating?” the teacher asked slowly, once again faking kindness.

“I... never thought history was that useful,” Skipper replied, unable to come up with a lie.

“What is your name?” At this point, the teacher started walking towards him, leaving the front.

“Cloud Skipper. Sir,” he added quickly.

“You are wrong, Cloud Skipper,” the teacher replied bluntly, the saccharine tone entirely gone. “And anypony who can tell me why he is wrong will be allowed to leave the class.”

Again, Weather Vane’s hoof shot up. “Knowing modern politics and the historical basis on which they stand is vital to knowing how to deal with diplomats, particularly those of other races.” She smirked proudly, and a few other recruits seemed to seethe at her.

“You are not wrong, Weather Vane,” the teacher replied, “but there is a much simpler reason why Cloud Skipper is wrong. Do you know of it?” After a moment’s shocked silence, she shook her head in defeat. “No?”

He walked back up to the front of the room and addressed the class. “Those who cannot learn from history are doomed to repeat it. Individuals and civilisations alike have fallen by making the same mistakes that most believe had been learned generations ago.” He turned to face Skipper, meeting his burning gaze with an equally frosty one. “If you learn nothing else from my class, remember this. Write it down on your hoof, if you don't trust your head.”

Skipper was surprised to find a pony that could match him in a staring contest, and eventually was forced to turn away. “I think I can remember that much, sir,” he said quietly.

“Good. Now, where was I?” The saccharine suddenly returned to his voice, and if Skipper hadn’t seen his stare, he wouldn’t have thought it was the same pony. Wondering what to make of him, he focused on the lesson intently.

The griffons had moved into the port town of Las Pegasus overnight, digging in before the Royal Guard could respond. They didn’t make any more headway from there, prevented by a massive storm that covered the city day and night, brought on by the local Pegasi under the direction of the Day Guard. When they finally ran out of clouds, the Guard had taken up positions to storm the city, driving the griffons back almost immediately. As a result, griffons tended to have a high respect for Pegasi, being unable to command the weather themselves.

Skipper didn’t really know what to make of the story. Some of the details seemed overly precise, yet other areas were glossed over and given hardly any time at all. He stayed back as the class left two hours later, wanting to bring it up with the teacher, but he left through a door in the back before Skipper could say anything. He fell in behind Vane, wanting to ask her about it.

“Oh, Cumulus always tells stories like that,” she said nonchalantly. “Most of the details he doesn’t bring up don’t really affect us. Besides, it’s his story, and none of us can really make him change, since we’re just recruits, and listeners.”

Before she could launch into a lecture of her own, Skipper held up a hoof. “Alright, that’s fine. So what now?”

“You really are new here, aren’t you?” Vane seemed to positively light up. “I didn’t want to believe it when I saw you arrive, but...”

Skipper put his hoof to his forehead. “Could you please just answer the question?” he said, telling himself to breathe, calm down, it’s not worth getting worked up over this one.

Vane stopped, catching herself, then cleared her throat. “Now, we’ve got a couple of hours to ourselves to maintain our gear or spar before dinner, then another class before curfew. Usually it’s something most ponies learn in school, like mathematics.” Skipper nodded; he could handle that a little bit more easily than history. “Oh yeah, my name’s Weather Vane.” Skipper could care less about her attempt to befriend him, but gave his own name in reply. “Yeah, I heard it when Cumulus called you out. He does that sometimes. Weird teaching method, but it seems to work for him. Nopony ever forgets the lessons he drills specifically into them, ever.”

“I can sort of see why,” Skipper admitted. Cumulus, the teacher he assumed, had seemed the same as Mitsuyoshi had sometimes: entirely detached and willing to defy any social contract to get what he wanted. But what did he want, besides his recruits to learn history? There had to be something behind that false cheerfulness...

“Hey, Windbag,” a stallion called out as they entered the barracks. “Looks like you finally got a coltfriend. Runt of the litter, just like you, eh?” A small group started laughing. Vane ignored them, but Skipper was reminded too much of the group he’d seen back at the café a few nights ago.

“Don’t bother with them,” Vane said, pulling Skipper with a hoof towards her. “They’re all bark and no bite, and they’ll leave you alone if you ignore them long enough. That’s always worked for me.” Skipper turned away, sitting down on the floor and facing the door. He didn’t know if he had a bunk yet, or which one was his, and he didn’t want to just take one away.

His intuition told him there was a group of ponies standing right behind him. Without turning around, he said, “Leave me alone. I’m not looking for any trouble.” Even if he’d been wrong, he hadn’t survived by ignoring his instincts. Since nopony called him out immediately for talking to himself, it was clear he hadn’t been wrong.

“Hey, runt,” the stallion from before said. “I didn’t know they were letting ponies like you try out for the Royal Guard now. Who’ll it be next, griffons?” Two other ponies snickered behind him, as though he’d made the ultimate jest.

Skipper turned around slowly, sizing him up just in case he decided to take a step too far. The speaker was an Earth Pony, though only of average size, flanked by another Earth Pony and a Pegasus. Considering how they reacted to nearly everything their apparent leader said, they were little more than flunkies, or even just hangers-on. That didn’t make their snickers any less grating. Breathe.

“Who shat you out? And how long has it been since you’ve seen the sun? A coat that white must be hard to maintain!”

Breathe.

Just ignore them.

Skipper’s instincts overrode the advice of both his old friend and his new... acquaintance. He wasn’t ready to call her a friend yet. “Don’t start anything you aren’t prepared to finish,” he said quietly. He wasn’t sure they’d heard, but the sudden jeering of the two flunkies proved otherwise.

“Wise guy, huh?” Ringleader said. “You didn’t look so smart out on the parade ground. Even Windbag there finished before you!” More snickers.

Breathe.

“Besides, you took away my weapon drills. And that’s the only part of the day I can really stand.”

Breathe.

“With that attitude,” Vane cut in, “I’m surprised you took up the Royal Guard at all. It’s not just about fighting. We have just as many diplomatic responsibilities, and peacekeeping doesn’t have to mean violence.”

“Who asked for your opinion, bitch?” Ringleader suddenly asked, charging into Vane’s face and slapping her before she could react.

I won’t snap. I don’t start fights...

“Yeah, go ahead and cry all you like. Your friend can’t do a damn thing to protect you. You make all these speeches, but you can’t even back them up with your choice in friends!”

Breathe.

“Why don’t you admit you were wrong and indulge me, just this once?” Vane’s reaction, combined with the wolf whistle of the two flunkies, told Skipper everything he needed to know. He stood up and walked up to Ringleader, who turned around to face him. “Oh, look. A knight in shining armour. Ember, Cinder,” he looked over Skipper’s shoulders at the two flunkies, “get his wings. Looks like somepony needs to be taught a lesson.”

“I warned you,” Skipper replied, quietly but still loud enough for Ringleader to hear. He flared his wings out, ready to move as soon as he was grabbed. Neither of the flunkies noticed that he seemed strangely compliant. As soon as they touched his wings, for the second time in a week, all Tartarus broke loose.

Skipper used their grip on his wings to do a backflip in place, bringing up his hindlegs to kick Ringleader in the chin before landing behind Ember and Cinder. They turned around to face him just as Ringleader managed to stand up. He threw himself between them at Ringleader, knowing they’d be too slow to catch him before he’d tackled their leader.

Somehow, Ringleader managed to duck under the tackle, running to hide behind his flunkies as Skipper turned around. They each took a step forward, growling and trying to use their size to intimidate him. It didn’t work; he simply launched himself into the air and, with a single flap of his wings, dive-bombed the target behind them. As he landed, pinning Ringleader with his knees, he started punching at his face, landing five punches back and forth before he heard a movement behind him.

Grabbing Ringleader’s forelegs around the elbows with his own, he pulled his opponent up in a hostage position, letting him take Ember’s punch. As Ringleader started screaming about the pain, Skipper shouted, “You think that hurt? Huh?! That’s nothing!” He stepped back a few paces, bringing Ringleader with him, then turned and slammed his head into the post of a bunk bed.

He started to pull back to repeat the move when a voice said, “That’s quite enough.” Skipper turned towards the door, where the voice had come from, and saw Cumulus standing there with Vane right behind him. “I rather hoped you’d save your fury for an actual enemy, and not one of your fellow recruits.” If he was truly disappointed, it didn’t show in his toneless voice.

“He wanted to...” Skipper started, but Cumulus held up a hoof, and he found himself stopping without being able to help it.

“Weather Vane told me of his intentions, but she had been just fine on her own. Your intervention was not necessary, and has rather caused more problems than it solved. That being said... I believe what you said was, ‘Don’t start anything you aren’t prepared to finish.’ Are you prepared to finish this?”

“I would’ve killed him,” Skipper replied.

“Then attack me instead.”

“What?”

“Oak Bough is not a worthy opponent for one such as you. If you cannot control your urges, at least direct them towards a challenge.”

Skipper was still breathing heavily. Everyone in the barracks was watching him. Can’t back down with an audience, he thought. They want to see a show. Never disappoint. Roaring at the air, he threw himself towards Cumulus, ready to attack again.

Cumulus simply ducked underneath, throwing Skipper headlong at the door. Skipper managed to turn and land on the door with his hooves, throwing himself at Cumulus again, who placed his hooves above Skipper’s head and shoved downward. This time, Skipper couldn’t take the rough landing, sliding along the uneven floor by his neck. Disoriented, he couldn’t stand up before Cumulus had his wings pinned. “I had hoped you would drop it,” he said, before Skipper felt a sharp pain in the back of his neck, then passed out.

~~

Memorandum

To: Captain Shining Armor

From: Wing Commander Cumulus

Subject: Cloud Skipper

I don’t know where you found this colt, and I almost don’t want to, but I do not believe that his presence in the Royal Guard would serve it particularly well. He lasted about three and a half hours before he nearly killed another recruit another sexual harassment aimed at an entirely different pony.

I cannot speak for what should happen to those giving the harassment, but I do not believe that Cloud Skipper is suited to the Royal Guard. However, from what he has told me, he does have an innate sense of justice and a will to put himself towards said justice. He needs to get his violent urges well and truly under control before he can return to being a recruit. And next time, I would suggest waiting until the end of the season.

As for how he can be taught to control himself, I have had some thoughts on the matter. I recall you said something about his sister taking responsibility for him...