It was a cloudy day. A hot, drawn-out summer had given way to a short, rainy fall, which was now slowly approaching its end. It was chilly; not freezingly cold, but enough to make me shiver underneath my thin white tank top and brown shorts. Even the tightly packed -and consequently heavy- saddlebag sitting on my back didn't manage to change anything about that.
The muddy, cold soil was still soaked from the last rain shower; the wet earth underneath my hooves made squelching sounds with every step I took, and it was sure it'd take a while for my hooves to warm up again once I was somewhere inside.
With a concerned look on my face, I lowered my head, looking down at my legs: my white fur was dripping with excessive water; everything underneath my ankles was covered by a thin layer of light brown mud.
"Covered in mud … maybe not the best first impression to make." I muttered to myself with a frown, yet let out an internal sigh of relief as I noticed the sound of my voice - a deep, croaky grumble; just what I needed.
Taking in a deep breath of the chilly, humid air, shaking my head and looking back up with a smile of new determination on my face, I looked ahead of me where my destination awaited.
Sitting enthroned on a small hill less than a quarter mile ahead of me, it caused me to stop for a moment to just admire its sheer size: the Equestrian Army Boot Camp, short EABC - a massive complex of dull, gray concrete buildings, limited only by a ten feet tall, rectangular barb wire fence with two gateways on either side, marking its exits and entries - and the point where I would begin my new life as a recruit for Princess Celestia's royal guard.
A light shudder ran through my body as I got moving again, not wanting to be late on my first day.
Ever since I was a little foal I had been amazed by the Equestrian military, especially by those ponies who had, without a doubt, achieved the highest and most honorable position a pony could dream of - the princesses' royal guards.
Having grown up on a small farm somewhere in the outskirts of Ponyville, I had gotten used to Princess Celestia's occasional visits to Ponyville - visits that had always been a highlight for everypony in town, including me. She had even paid my family's farm a visit once - a day that I was sure neither me, nor my parents or brother would forget for the rest of our lives.
However, while it always was a great honor for me to see the Princess in person, the one thing that had always been the most exciting for me about her visits was seeing her guards in action. Those ponies ... excellent fighters, experienced from several years of a training that counted as one of the hardest in all of Equestria, and still ... such grace; such poise.
Most of the time I saw them they would just stand still, standing guard for their princess without moving a muscle for minutes, hours, Celestia knows how long. They didn't need to look threatening; they didn't need to show off a huge arsenal of weapons or medals that testified their competence in fighting, they just ... stood.
Everypony knew better than to mess with a royal guard, and those who didn't were put into their places, one way or another.
No matter how I looked at it, these guards were the most fascinating ponies I had ever seen: the respect everyone paid to them as a matter of course, the sheer authority they embodied with their mere presence, and of course, their changeling-like uniformness.
It was a well-known fact that the golden armor those worthy of being in the royal guard wore was magically enchanted, altering the appearance of its bearer, equalizing it with that of their fellows to a T.
Several theories around why the guards had to wear enchanted armor existed, the most popular one being that the anonymity the armor granted its bearer was supposed to protect the guards' identity and keep it a secret only the guards themselves knew about. In fact, rumor had it that those ponies underneath the uniform had to keep their 'job' a secret to anyone who wasn't part of their closest family.
I had never understood the reason behind that - being a royal guard was something one could be proud of - why keep something so honorable to yourself?
But I shook my head - now wasn't the time to think about these kinds of things. I needed to look self-confident and assertive if I wanted to make a good first impression, and these thoughts only added to my doubts about this whole thing. To be honest, I was afraid I'd fall over if my legs would shiver any more.
"Come on, get a grip." I muttered to myself and ended that train of thought, instead looking ahead of me where one of the two gateways was slowly coming closer - a gap in the fence, secured by a small wooden guard house with barely enough space for two ponies in it. Two guards -'regular' ones, both dressed in a simple, dust brown uniform- stood at each side of the gate, each armed with an approximately five inches long sword fixed to their hooves, and blankly stared into my direction with a somewhat grim look on their faces.
I tried not to think too much about them, but noticed how my heart seemed to beat faster with every step I took.
This was it - the day I had been anticipating for almost a whole year by now. A whole new chapter in the book I call my life, just waiting for me to be explored - hundreds, thousands of new possibilities ... and chances.
I drew in a sharp breath, shivering from what I hoped to be nothing but a gust of cold wind blowing against my fur.
What if I didn't make it? What if they would kick me out halfway because I was too weak or too short or ... or because I was...
No. No, bad thoughts! I would make it! I had already passed both the physical and medical exams, so they had to take me! I ... I would pass with flying colors and become a royal guard in no time! And ... and mom and dad would see me and they would ... they would be so damn proud of me and...
Feeling tears welling up in my eyes, I shook my head once again - I was thinking way too much about all this, and I knew it.
Trying to ignore the feeling of weightlessness that was now starting to make itself noticeable in my guts, I looked back up at the guards.
Their eyes were fixed on me as I came closer, presumably due to the fact that I was the only pony around. It was the first day of a new term in the EABC, so I had expected the entrances to be cramped with other recruits, but maybe I was just running late - after all, I had, of all possible things, forgotten to bring a watch with me.
Unable to stand the guards' grim looks, I instead looked to the ground in front of my hooves as I approached the entrance, only looking up as one of them finally spoke up.
"Recruit?" the right one of the guards, a light blue earth pony stallion with a mane that almost matched the color of his uniform, asked me dryly.
"S-sorry what?" I squealed as my head shot up - I had expected one of them to approach me sooner or later and had already gotten my words out ready. However, I hadn't expected him to approach me this early -I was still about 30 feet away from the gateway- so he had caught me off guard, making me forget the words I had thought of in an instant and raising my voice up to a high-pitched squeak.
The stallion let out an annoyed sigh; his colleague only rolled his eyes and looked away from me. "Are. You. A. Recruit?" he asked me slowly, as if I had difficulties understanding him.
"I-I think so." I replied hastily, my voice still in its natural high pitch before I finally got a hold of myself, cleared my throat and said, "I-I mean ... y-yes. ... Yes, sir." holding back a sigh of relief to hear my voice back in the lower octaves - I didn't want to draw any unnecessary attention. Not on my first day.
The guard rolled his eyes at me. "That wasn't so hard, now was it?" he cocked his head into the direction of the guard house behind him, "Head on through to the porter; he'll tell you where to go."
"Yessir." I grumbled with pretended confidence before lowering my head again and walking past the two guards towards the narrow passageway. The stallion stepped into my way, making me bump into his shoulder and only with effort hold back a startled squeak. I looked up at him with wide eyes, wondering what I could have done to upset him in those few moments I had been present.
"And for fuck's sake, quit calling me sir! I'm not your fucking boss, you hear!?" he shouted into my face, his smelly breath sending a cringe onto my face.
"Y-yes, uhm ... m-mister." I mumbled meekly before lowering my head again and carefully pushing myself past him. He didn't step back, unsurprisingly.
Trying not to think too much about this rather unsuccessful first approach, I entered the passage and stopped in front of the guards house. I could still hear the second guard chuckle behind my back. "Newbies, huh?" he jokingly said to his companion who replied with a short huff.
"I'm telling you, if all the new recruits are as much of a pussy as that one, we're all gonna be fucked if we should ever go into war." He hissed and spat onto the ground, “Not that that’d ever happen.”
The two guards shared a short laugh, but I tried to block their teasing laughter out, folding my ears back against my head. My father had told me that ponies in the military weren't as kind as those in Ponyville, and tended to be a little vulgar every so often. I suppose he was right.
With an audible gulp and another shake of my head, I tried to fight back the weightless sensation in my chest and hide my –now clearly noticeable- shaking legs as I turned to look at the guard house to my right.
A gray-haired, beige earth pony stallion who was easily three times my age, yet still looked like if he was capable of throwing me off my hooves with just one strike of his muscular forelegs gave me a grim look through a big, paneless window that made for half of the house’s side. He was sitting on a small metal chair, hooves resting on an old wooden desk in front of him which was covered in dozens of papers.
"Identify yourself." he told me dryly, barely opening his mouth while he spoke.
"S-sorry, what?"
“Your name!" the stallion barked at me. What was it about this place that seemed to make everypony here have a bad day?
“S-Stormtrotter … sir. I-I'm a new recruit.” I barely managed to sputter out, trying hard to not look at his muscle-bound forelegs, the veiny bulks barely concealed by his thin, dark green uniform. Hell, I was sure he could tear out trees with these things.
The stallion replied with a weak grunt before lowering his head and looking at the pile of papers on his desk. “You’re early, recruit.” He noted dryly without looking up, “Think you can impress someone by showing up four hours early?”
I replied with another, barely concealed gulp, my look still locked onto his forelegs as his hooves ran over the papers, looking for my name. “N-no, sir.” I replied meekly, desperately trying to keep my voice from trembling, but failing miserably as one of his massive hooves slammed onto his desk, locking one of the thickly-printed papers in place and gaining a rather un-manly ‘eek’ from me in return.
“There we go!” his deep growl of a voice came to my ears with something that sounded like … delight? The buff stallion looked up at me, his emerad green eyes meeting mine as I hastily tore my look away from his muscular body and back to his face. “You’ll be under my command, recruit. Congratulations!” he announced, indeed with delight, before a smug grin formed on his face and he added, “You just secured yourself a place in platoon B - the best of the best.”
Once again, all I could bring out was a weak gulp as I stared wide-eyed at my soon to be instructor. Father had told me that those in the military were tough –in every way- ponies. He had not told me that I would be under the command of a half-bear with upper legs that would make any tree log go green with envy.
He didn’t seem to notice my rather disbelieving look –or if he did, he paid no mind to it- as he pushed back his chair and reached under his table, retrieving a bulging olive green duffle bag that was easily half the size of my body with his mouth and placing it on his desk in front of me with a loud thud.
He spat out the bag’s carrying loops, then looked back at me. “This is your basic equipment, recruit.” He said emphatically and pointed one of his saucer-sized hooves at the heavy-looking bunch, “Bring it to your barracks. Don’t. Lose it.”
I nodded weakly, then reached forward with my mouth to grab the bag and pulled it into my direction. Clearly, I had underestimated either the bag’s weight or my own power – a realization that, unfortunately, came up only after the almost ridiculously heavy bag had torn on my muzzle and sent me to faceplant right into the still slightly muddy ground after I had tugged it through the window and over the edge of the desk.
Muffling a curse under my breath, I got back to my hooves, shaking my head in a vain attempt to get the muddy soil off my face.
I had expected the instructor to give some kind of witty comment about me being weak, but to my surprise he just continued to look at me with a deadpan face as he pointed a hoof to his right and said, “Platoon B is accommodated in building A-2. Get over there, then wait for further instructions.”
“Yes, sir.” I replied with a nod, raising my right hoof and resting it against the side of my head in a salute.
“Cut that out, recruit.” The instructor cut me off sharply, “You will not salute to anyone until you and your platoon have received the respective lessons. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.” I nodded once again, this time keeping my hoof down and instead lowering my head to start another attempt to pick up the bag.
“And it’s ‘Aye, sir!’ We’re soldiers, not filly scouts!” the gray-haired stallion added dryly.
“Aye, sir!” I corrected myself obeyingly and reached forward, picking the heavy bag up in one swift motion; I'll admit that the breathless grunt this caused to escape my throat could have been a little better-concealed.
“Head on over to building A-2, recruit Stormtrotter; somebody will be with you shortly. The rest of your equipment, including your uniforms will be handed out to you tomorrow.” the stallion told me, again in his deadpan voice.
I nodded hastily, but couldn’t help but to shiver at these last words – my uniform; that one thing that would unite me with my comrades on a whole new level; that would erase my individuality and make me look like a royal guard within mere seconds.
That is, if I wouldn’t already look like one to begin with.
Indeed, my pearly white fur and light blue mane and tail did give me the appearance of a guard without his uniform, and my rather buff and tall frame did the rest. In fact, I was fairly confident that my appearance wouldn’t change a bit once I would put on one of those magically enchanted golden uniforms.
Actually, I was sure it wouldn’t change; I was dead certain that it wouldn’t change.
After all, the spells embedded within the uniforms had the power to turn any stallion, regardless of their manes, eyes, fur or general body frame into one and the same white –or gray, depending on the bearer’s rank- stallion. Unicorns would keep their horns, pegasi would keep their wings, but every other piece of individuality would be cleansed off them.
However, while the armor’s magical capabilities seemed nearly endless, they had one major flaw.
They didn’t work on mares.
“I said understood, recruit?” the irritated voice of the instructor interrupted my thoughts and caused me to give a sudden jolt before catching myself and looking back at him with pounding heart. “Aye, sir!” I almost shouted at him through the bag in my mouth.
“Then get going!” the buff pony growled back –he wasn’t shouting; he didn’t have to shout to make me obey blindly- and pointed a hoof into the direction he had predicted the barracks to lay in before.
“Aye, sir!” I repeated myself one more time before turning away from him and breaking into a light canter towards the complex of gray buildings, almost tripping over my heavy bag in the process.
My adrenaline-induced canter lasted for about thirty seconds before I had to force myself to stop and -under heavy, breathless pants- let go of the bag in my mouth; it fell to the wet, grassy ground with a soft thud.
Breathing heavily, I looked at my bag, then behind me to make sure that the instructor wasn’t watching me anymore, and dropped down to my haunches.
"Sweet Celestia..." I sighed, muttering to myself, holding back a groan from my already aching limbs, "What did I get myself into?"
The barracks of buliding A-2 were -to put it lightly- spartanically furnished. Surely, my room back home on our farm wasn't exactly the Grand Canterlot Hotel, but it still was a lot more livable than ... this.
Bare concrete greeted my eyes wherever I looked - from the walls with two rows of lockers to each side, to the ceiling, to the floor, everything was held in a dull gray. Heck, even the two rows of five neatly aligned metal bunk beds in front of me were gray.
Light didn't seem to have a too high priority in the EABC - three bare lightbulbs that loosely hung from the ceiling and a small window at the other end of the room that wouldn't let in too much sunlight, even if they sky weren't covered by a thick layer of clouds, were the only sources of light, leaving the room in a rather uncomfortable twilight.
Regardless, I stepped inside - the smell of old, stale air was the first thing that greeted me. It made sense, considering that this room probably didn't get aired out too often, and ten full-grown stallions did emit a certain amount of odor throughout the day.
I hadn't even closed the door behind me when I caught myself missing my old room - the colorful walls, adorned by pictures of my family and achievements I had earned during my fillyhood; the one, big, almost overdimensional window, my small yet comfy bed, and those hot summer nights in which the air would smell like hay all night long ... it all seemed so far away now.
With a sigh, I dropped my 'basic equipment'-bag in front of my hooves and closed the door behind me, taking even more light from the already dusky room. My look fell onto the two row of beds - their frames were painted in a dull gray; single spots of rust testified that these beds must have plenty of experience in accomodating recruits. A small metal crate stood ready on the bed's foot end to accomodate things I was sure I would be told later on, and a small metal sign was fixed to the front end of each frame.
I could have sworn my pulse sped up as I read the name 'Stormtrotter' on one of the signs, and found myself standing in front of my new home for the next three months. The bottom bunk of the unstable-looking frame didn't have any bedding on it - only a mattress that was way too thin for my liking and had several stains I'd rather not look too closely at greeted me.
I held back another sigh and instead turned around to gather my belongings, pulling them over to my bed with several surprisingly manly grunts and leaving the huge equipment-bag on the floor, dropping my own saddlebag on top of it and taking in a deep breath as the weight finally slid off my back.
For a moment I just stood still, looking at the pile of bags in front of me - it was almost as tall -and probably just as heavy- as me. Celestia knows from where I took the power to carry this load all the way from the entrance to the barracks.
I felt a smirk creep onto my face. "Heh." I muttered to myself, "Maybe I am made of Royal Guard-material after al-"
"Atteeeeention!" the sudden shout almost made me jump; the sound of a door being opened with enough force to almost blow it clean off its hinges did the rest.
Hyperventilating, feeling my heart pound inside my chest, I span around, staring at the barracks' entrance door with eyes widened in horror. My future instructor -had I ever gotten his name? If I had, I couldn't remember- had literally kicked open the door and stormed into the barrack while I had been busy admiring my rather pathetic performance.
Now the -admittedly slightly intimidating- stallion was standing in the doorway, staring at me with a petrified gaze. "Recruit Stormtrotter." he said dryly.
"Aye, sir?" I replied, this time knowing better than to salute in an apparently unprofessional manner.
The stallion stepped through the door, leaving it open, and looked at the pile of bags lying on the ground in front of me. "What were your orders, recruit?" He asked, looking at me with a glare that made me want to hide in my bed and cry for my mom.
"I-I ... I was supposed to bring my equipment to the barracks ... sir." I forced out, feeling how the little bit of self-confidence I had built up after entering the room began to melt like an ice cube.
"Correct." the instructor replied with a weak nod, "And did your orders include dropping your equipment and personal belongings in the middle of the room where everybody can stumble over them?" he asked me sharply.
"T-there's nobody here except for you and me." I noted meekly.
"I did not ask if there were other ponies around!" he snarled at me, his green eyes going wide, "Listen to me when I'm speaking, recruit! I asked if you were instructed to leave your things in the middle of the hallway, and nothing else!"
"N-no, sir." I replied, my head sinking lower with every second.
"Then why are they still there!?" he asked me sharply.
"I ... didn't know where to put them, sir." I admitted truthfully.
"You will store your equipment as well as your personal belongings in the locker assigned to your bed." he informed me dryly. Even before he was done speaking, I already stepped towards the two bags and wanted to pick them up when he interrupted me, "You will do this when we are done talking and I have left the room, recruit!" he clarified with a voice that tolerated no dissent.
I stopped dead in my tracks, looking up at him with stressed eyes. With a weak sigh, I said, "Alright."
The instructor raised an eyebrow, sharply asking, "What was that, recruit?"
"Aye, sir!" I hastily corrected myself.
"Better." he said with a light nod of his head, then drew in a long breath. "Now..." he spoke up after a moment of silence, "My name is Sergeant Dew, but you will only adress me as 'Sergeant'. Understood?"
I nodded my head, "Aye sir."
"When you are on duty, you will only do what you are told to do; you will only speak when you are told to speak, and only go where you are told to go."
"Aye sir." The words left my mouth as if by command.
"If you disobey your orders or disrespect a commander, you will be punished."
"Aye sir."
"If you leave the camp without proper authorization, you will be tracked down, brought back, and punished." Single beads of saliva flew from his mouth and landed on my nose; I fought with myself not to flinch.
"Aye sir."
"And if you break the rules by bringing alcohol or any other prohibited items onto the base," the Sergeant paused for a moment just to glare at me with a face that looked like if he had just caught me with one of said prohibited items, "you will be punished! Do you understand?"
Once again, I nodded, "Aye, sir!"
Finally, Sergeant Dew paused for a second, just looking at me with an inspecting glance. "Good." he finally said, "Since you came here four hours early, you will have to wait until the rest of your comrades have arrived." He pointed behind himself towards a clock hanging on the wall above the entrance door - it was shortly after 10am, "There will be a briefing lesson about the camp and the general rules at 5pm. There you and your comrades will be told what is going to happen during the next days. Until then you are free to do as you please as long as you do not leave this room." He pointed into a corner of the room where a small table with four chairs was set up; a bunch of magazines and papers were spread out on the tabletop, "Even though I recommend you read the rules of engagement, code of conduct, and the camp's basic rules first. Copies are located on the table over there."
Sergeant Dew looked back at me, scanning me from head to toe. "For now you will remain in your civil clothing. You will be informed when to wear what in the respective lessons later this week." He looked me in the eyes; a contact I could stand for only a few seconds before I had to look away, "Do you have any more questions, recruit Stormtrotter?" he huffed into my face.
I remained silent for a moment. There were hundreds, no thousands of things running through my mind in this moment, and I was sure half of them could be cleared up just by asking my instructor, but I still hesitated. I had no idea where to start - my mind was literally buried underneath an avalanche of new information, and even if the sergeant would have the patience to answer me each and every single one of my questions -which I was sure he hadn't- we'd probably be busy for the rest of the afternoon.
So I made not neccessarily the most pleasant, but definitely the right decision, shook my head and said, "No, sir."
"Good." Sergeant Dew said with a nod of his head, "Put your bags in your locker; you will be told how to properly store your equipment later on."
"Aye, sir." I approved, almost out of sheer habit, gaining a questioning look from my instructor that made me wonder if I had said something wrong. I felt like one of us should say something to clear up the situation, but since I didn't know what to say, and Seargent Dew just didn't say anything, the next few moments were filled with nothing but awkward silence; he still didn't release me from his look.
Then, after what felt like an eternity, he curtly said, "Dismissed."
"Sorry, what?" I asked him slightly confused, but he simply turned around, and left. His short tail disappearing behind the closing door was the last thing I saw of him, then there was silence.
I stood still for another moment. My mind was busy trying to digest everything that had happened in the last few hours; my thoughts were going crazy, head pounding.
So I ... I had to adress him as 'Seargent', but if he asked me something I had to reply with 'Sir'. I wasn't allowed to leave the base while I was on duty ... or was it off duty? What does 'on' and 'off duty' even mean? What was my 'duty', anyway?
And sweet Celestia, what if I broke one of these rules without even noticing it? What was this 'punishment' he had warned me about? Would I be arrested? Kicked out of the royal guard? Banned to the moon!?
I let out a groan as I supported my aching head with a hoof. All this was way too much for me! The tone, the strictness, the fear of doing something wrong! This ... this wasn't the right thing for me! I ... I wasn't a royal guard!
Feeling the tears starting to well up in my eyes, I sat down on my bed, and let out a long sigh. What in the name of Celestia had I bestowed upon me? What crazy thoughts had gotten me to think that I would be able to do ... all this?
I was just a farmer; my parents had been farmers, my grandparents had been farmers, and I was born to be a farmer too! One just had to look at my cutie mark to...
My thoughts came to a halt as my eyes rested on the picture embedded on my flank: a sword, and a shield - the easiest and most obvious reminder that my future was in the royal guard.
Or so my brother had said.
Another sigh escaped my lips as I arose from the bed, walking over to a small sink in a corner of the room. A mirror was fixed above the tab, presumably to serve as an assistance during morning routine. I looked into the reflection, and instantly felt the feeling of weightlessness return into my guts.
That pony staring back at me ... it wasn't me. My fur wasn't pearly white; my mane wasn't light blue. And most importantly, my name wasn't 'Stormtrotter'.
My name was Sunny Oats, and I was a mare.
My coat was dark yellow, and my mane a light shade of brown. The dye had done a good job at giving my mane and fur a more ... subtle color, and my brother had used body paint to make my cutie mark something a little more guard-related. The wooden cart wheel that used to be on my flank wasn't neccessarily something one would expect to see on a future royal guard.
A growing portion I had been given by a zebra living somewhere in the Everfree Forest had helped my rather puny body to look like that of a true royal guard, and a few short lessons from my brother had taught me how to speak like a real stallion instead of the -at least somewhat well-educated- mare I was.
So, all things considered, I would pass for a royal guard, even without the help of the magical uniforms.
That is, if I was focused enough to keep my voice low and manly this whole time, if I wouldn't run out of growing portions since these lasted only one week each, and if I wouldn't forget to re-dye my fur and mane after a maximum of two weeks.
Maybe not the most flawless plan I had ever come up with.
But it wasn't my fault! It had been my brother who had kept on telling me to give it a try! It had been him who had told me to dye my fur, him who had acquired the growing portion, and him who had thought of this ridiculous name - Stormtrotter. What kind of a name was that, anyway?
I shook my head, closing my eyes.
"It will all be fine." I muttered to myself, "It's just three months - you're going to rock this whole thing!"
Feeling at least a bit of my self-confidence return, I opened my eyes again, and looked at my reflection. My heart sank yet again; my eyes widened. There, in my mane, right above my forehead, was a spot of brown! The dye was starting to wash out already! Sweet Celestia what was I supposed to do, what was I supposed to...
I stopped dead in my movement as my right hoof touched the brown spot - it felt wet, cold, and sticky. I ran my hoof through my mane, then looked at it in the barack's dim light.
Mud.
A sigh of relief escaped my lips as I realized that my cover wasn't about to blow after all. All the same, I felt stupid for making a mountain out of a molehill.
But I once again shook my head - this wasn't the time for panic, neither was it the time to worry about things like these. My brother had assured me that the dye wouldn't wash out for at least two weeks - looking at my disguise, my mane and fur probably were the two things least likely to blow my cover. If there was a way for me to get caught, it would be me forgetting to keep my voice low in the heat of the moment. Or running out of growing potions. Or my comrades finding the two hidden packs of dye in my saddlebag. Or...
I actually had to give myself a slap across the face to end this train of thought. Something I regretted shortly after, seeing how the sharp pain flaring up in my cheek caused me to let out a high-pitched yelp.
"I'm really going to have to work on this." I muttered to myself as I caressed my aching cheek. I couldn't risk getting caught just because something or somebody caused me to lose my composure for a moment.
My look fell back onto the mirror, and the hoof caressing my cheek stopped.
I locked eyes with the white stallion in the reflection; the look on my face turned from gloom, to acceptance, and finally to determination.
"Pull yourself together, recruit Stormtrotter!" the stallion in the mirror shouted at me, "You're in the Royal Guard now! You're a soldier! Is this how you want to protect your Princess? By crying because you hit yourself!?"
I remained silent, the look on my face turning to frustration for just a moment.
"Pony up already! The easy times are over! The Royal Guard is going to be a challenge. Probably the hardest challenge you've ever faced. But you are going to face it! And you are going to succeed! Just believe in yourself and you can do it!"
I said nothing for just a moment, letting my own words sink in. Then my expression turned back to determination; my right hoof shot up to the side of my head, saluting to my reflection as I shouted, "Aye, sir!"
My shout resounded in the small room a few more times before slowly fading away, leaving me in total silence, my hoof still resting at the side of my head.
With a sigh, I slowly lowered it again, not breaking eye contact with my reflection. A weak smile formed on my face as I muttered, "I can do this..."
I stood still for another moment, then slowly turned around to walk back toward my bed. I felt a little better now, albeit still a little nervous about what was to come. What if somepony would ... ? No.
I closed my eyes, drawing in a long breath. I had to keep a clear head if I wanted to focus on what lay ahead. I would do my best to keep my cover up, and if somepony would find out despite my efforts ... well, then maybe I just wasn't destined to be a Royal Guard after all.
With that, I bit down on my heavy equipment bag and tore it over to one of the ten metal lockers that had my new name written on it; my saddlebag followed shortly after.
Once the work was done, I let myself drop back onto my bed and leaned back on the cardboard-like mattress. The voice of reason inside my head told me to get up and read the papers Sergeant Dew had mentioned, but at the moment, I feared that I might stumble over something, anything that would cause me to lose that little bit of self-confidence I had built up and make me lose my head again.
Besides, my body was starting to remind me that I hadn't slept more than two hours the night before - with a hearty yawn, I noticed how my eyelids were getting heavier.
Surely, the Sergeant wouldn't mind if I would get a bit of sleep before my comrades would arrive. And even if he did ... I let out a soft sigh as I allowed my eyes to gently drift close ... I couldn't have cared less in this moment.
Author's Note
First off, thanks for taking the time to read everything until here!
Please note that this is still a WIP-story and will be updated on an irregular basis.
Regardless of that, feel free to leave a comment if you liked or disliked it so far - every kind of feedback is appreciated!
