Under Siege

“Another flagon!” The massive earth pony thumped a hoof on the oaken bar. “And one for my winged friend, as well.”

The slender pegasus, sitting just to the right of the broad-shouldered stallion, caught the bartender’s eye and gave a quick shake of his head. “Just wine, thank you.”

“What kind?” The griffin behind the bar fetched a tall, fluted glass.

“Cloudsdale Stormberry. As usual.”

The Earth pony snorted. “You pegasi and your fruity drinks. You haven’t lived until you’ve tasted an earth pony lager.”

“And if you switched to berry wines, Julius, you might lose some of that mass that’s keeping you pinned to earth,” the lighter pony quipped as he slid onto a stool beside his old friend.

“Sharp of wit as you are of tongue, eh, Tiberius?”

“And you’re still as strong of back as you are of will. Thank you, Goldcrest,” Tiberius added as the barkeep slid two full drinks towards the bantering pair.

Julius hooked a hoof through the large handle of his flagon as Tiberius sipped at the flavorful, indigo wine. It was early evening, and Goldcrest’s Gilded Wing was full of amicable chatter.

“Have you been following the wedding?” Tiberius asked, raising his voice above the ambient noise as the first sip of his drink settled pleasantly in his stomach.

Julius swallowed mightily and thumped his now half-empty flagon onto the bar. “Don’t have to. The wife’s been going crazy over it. Nearly as crazy as Shining Armor’s sister, from what I’ve heard. You know how she is about celebrity weddings.”

“I know how you are about weddings,” the gray pegasus jabbed lightheartedly. “Married by a judge, and nearly slept through it, too. Wasn’t it I who had to drag you out of bed that morning? Although I wouldn’t be so quick to call Shining Armor a ‘celebrity’. He hates the press nearly as much as you.”

Julius snorted again. “Sure you aren’t stickin’ up for him just ‘cause you and he are both commanders?” The Earth pony sergeant tugged his hoof free from his cup and clanked it against Tiberius’ moon-emblazoned armor. “You and I graduated the same year from boot camp, and that means you’ve got to listen to my complaining. Rank don’t hold nothing against friendship.”

“I didn’t mean to insinuate--”

“‘Course you didn’t,” Julius interrupted with a deep, braying laugh. “I know you better than that.”

Tiberius sipped his sweet, biting drink, and began again. “It was actually Shining Armor’s sister, Twilight Sparkle, that I wanted to discuss.”

“What about?”

“Everything and nothing. Mostly her strange behavior,” Tiberius began, sliding his glass side to side between his hooves. “We all heard what she said about Cadance this afternoon. ‘She’s evil’. Yes, some ponies might say that about the princess of love, but how many would say that about their own foalsitter?”

“I had some terrible foalsitters in my time,” grumbled Julius.

“And with the wedding tomorrow morning, with the princesses doubling the guard at every public location, I can’t help but wonder...” Tiberius heaved a long sigh and swirled his drink again.

The pub’s twin doors swung open with a creaky laugh as a pair of giggling mares stumbled in, bringing a gust of chilly wind with them. Julius narrowed his eyes. “Tiberius, what are you implying?”

“Twilight is smart. She’s incredibly perceptive, and she’s freakishly good at magic. The girl is special. Actually, the whole Sparkle family is special.”

“So?” Julius muttered something foul as the giggling girlfriends squeezed against the bar beside him.

“So, what if she’s right? What if there’s more to our princess of love than Cadance is letting on?” Tiberius raised his eyebrows before leaning over his cup for another sip, ears flat and lost among his dark gray mane.

It was a long moment before Julius spoke again. When he did, it wasn’t to Tiberius, but to the colorful ponies now sitting next to him.

“It’s getting a bit crowded over here. Why don’t you two sit by my friend instead? That’s it, just over there.”

Julius winked, mouthing they’re both single as Tiberius chuckled in helpless defeat.

The two mares, a cyan unicorn and a yellow earth pony, took new seats next to Tiberius, speaking to each other in the loud, low voices of people who are trying to have a private conversation and failing. Tiberius’ ears pricked sideways involuntarily.

“He’s a guardsman, and a pegasus, too,” the unicorn murmured to her companion.

“I bet he works for Celestia!”

“No he doesn’t, he works for Luna. See?” The horned mare, clearly the more intoxicated of the two, clanked her hoof sharply against the crescent-moon insignia on Tiberius’ ceramic shoulder plate.

“They’re also very drunk,” Tiberius hissed back at his friend as he brushed the unicorn’s hoof off of his armor.

The unicorn continued as though she hadn’t noticed. “He’s probably Luna’s commanding officer.”

At that, the two mares burst into hysterical giggles, and the grinning unicorn leaned over Tiberius’ drink. “Excuse me, sir. Are you a commander?”

Tiberius faced her with a forced grin, as Julius thumped his hoof in silent laughter behind him. “Indeed I am. In fact, I serve in Luna’s Stellar Guard, second only to the Moon Princess herself. My name is Tiberius. And you are?”

“I’m Sky,” the tipsy mare began, “and this is... my friend is Daisy. She’s yellow.”

The girlfriends burst into giggles again. “Bartender! Over here! We’d like some more... what was it?”

“Wine,” Daisy supplied helpfully.

“Cloudsdale Stormberry wine!” Sky shouted. “Because it’s blue. Like me!”

“Don’t you dare start,” Tiberius muttered darkly to his friend as Julius bit his hoof in poorly concealed hysterics.

The owner of the Gilded Wing eyed her drunken patrons shrewdly, jerking the fresh glass of Stormberry wine just out of Sky and Daisy’s biting reach. “I reckon you two have had enough.”

“Pleeeeasee?” Sky pouted, her eyes wandering slightly as she tracked the potent, blue drinks.

“If you’re hungry, go find a table in the back and I’ll have Haunch cook you some nice carrot stew. If you’re thirsty, I’m sure there’s other pubs that’ll serve ya. Either way, you’ll have to leave the bar.” Goldcrest’s voice was raspy, but firm. The crest of feathers protruding from the back of her head appeared more orange than gold in the pub’s warm candlelight.

“Come on,” Daisy huffed after a moment, tugging her girlfriend’s mane. “I know a better place.”

The two mares swayed back to the doors, with Sky lingering a few steps behind to whisper a dreamy “Bye-bye” in Tiberius’ flattened ear. The door blew shut behind them with a startling bang, sending a brief lull rippling through the talkative pub.

“Excuse me.” Tiberius addressed the barkeep, nodding at one indigo beverage still wrapped in her taloned fist. His voice was raw, with a touch of exasperation. “Don’t pour that out. I’ll take it.”

Tiberius then glared at his longtime friend as Goldcrest carefully placed the second glass next to his first. “What was that?”

Julius sighed. “You need to unwind. We’re all working overtime, with this supposed threat against Canterlot, and all. But you’re going nearly as crazy as Twilight.”

“So you don’t believe her.” Tiberius’ head dipped low, draining his first glass to well below the one-third mark.

“To hear Shining Armor, this isn’t the first time she’s overreacted to something. I mean, yeah, she’s smart ... saved Equestria more than once... but she’s also been wrong more than once. Know what I mean?”

“I mean,” the burly sergeant continued before Tiberius could open his mouth, “you don’t really think the princess is evil, do you? ‘Cause if you do, we’re talking conspiracy.”

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean...” Tiberius removed his helmet and set it on the bar, and began massaging his forehead with a fetlock. The wine had snuck up on him, and he was suddenly feeling light-headed.

“It’s probably not her fault,” he said, once the mild dizziness had passed, “but I keep thinking she’s involved somehow. As a victim, most likely. Maybe she’s being blackmailed. And that’s still a conspiracy.”

“Maybe,” Julius agreed, after draining the rest of his mug. “Maybe not. We’re guards, not investigators.”

“I guarantee you this is just a family feud,” he added upon seeing his best friend’s disappointed expression, “but tell ya what. Once the wedding’s over, I’ll help you poke around as much as you want. We’ll talk to Twilight, Shining Armor, Cadance, maybe even Celestia. If anything’s wrong, we’ll find it out. But until then, we’ve got a city to look after. Hear me?”

Tiberius sighed again. “I hear you.”

Julius tapped his friend’s shoulder plate again. “You’re higher up than me. You should be giving me advice.”

“Well, there aren’t many people above me who are allowed to,” said Tiberius with a wry grin. He nudged his second glass of Stormberry towards his companion. “Want a taste?”

Orange motes of candlelight danced off the liquid’s indigo surface. Julius sniffed the blue liquor cautiously. He dipped his tongue in, then quickly tugged it out, sputtering.

“Flavorful, isn’t it?”

“It burns. You sure this is wine?”

“The best.”

“You’re wrong. It’s like drinking a stun baton. I’ll never understand you pegasi.” He rapped his hoof sharply on the oaken table top. “Goldcrest! I need something to wash out my mouth.”

Goldcrest sidled back to her patrons. “The usual?”

“Make it two. One to wash out the taste, and another to help me forget it.”

“No-can-do.” Goldcrest smirked. Her amber eagle eyes twinkled mischievously as she snatched up Julius’ empty mug. “You’re on a three drink limit tonight.”

“What?” Julius planted his forehooves on the bar and surged forward desperately. “Who told you that?”

“Your boss. Who else?” Goldcrest filled the mug from a tap behind the bar, then held it above the stallion’s head. Julius stretched, snapping for it. “Now sit down and pay me, or I’ll spike your precious lager with pegasus whiskey. Which is about ten times stronger than that blue wine you hate so much.”

“Sometimes it sucks being Shining Armor’s personal liaison,” Julius grumbled. He drew a coin purse out of his saddlebags with his teeth and let it fall unceremoniously onto the bar. The dull jingle was lost among the ebb and flow of liquor-smoothed conversation. “You do it. I don’t feel like counting bits, and you don’t want pony spit on your coins anyway.”

“Damn right I don’t.” With a pair of talons, Goldcrest deftly unstrung the coin purse and began stacking the shiny, gold tokens.

“Keep her honest for me,” Julius muttered to Tiberius, burying his nose again in his flagon.

“I heard that,” the griffin snapped. Goldcrest’s beak was sharper than Tiberius’ tongue, but the griffin prided herself on her straightforward business practices.

“Don’t mind him,” Tiberius offered nonchalantly as he started on his second glass. “He’s drunk.”

The two guards nursed their drinks for another hour--watching the tavern’s doors open and close, swapping jokes with the other regulars, talking about anything except the wedding and the rumored ‘threat against Canterlot’.

Finally, Julius pushed himself to his feet and stretched his neck with several loud popping noises. Tiberius followed suit, setting his plumed helmet back on his head and flapping his light gray wings several times to stretch the kinks out of them.

“That time of night?” Goldcrest asked conversationally, holding her scaly hands steepled on top of the bar.

“Yup.” Julius’ massive shoulders rolled under the weight of his Guardian, the reactive-armor system employed by all three branches of the Royal Guard. “Time to get home before Melody starts wondering where I am.”

“It’s Friday night”, Tiberius reminded him. He’d just finished his third glass of Stormberry, and the room was tilting comfortably about him. “We always go to the bar on Friday nights. Melody knows that.”

“And I always get home before twelve,” Julius reminded him in turn. “Who’s the drunk one now?”

“Tipsy,” Tiberius corrected as the two of them crossed the crowded floor.

“Drunk. Everyone knows pegasi can’t hold their liquor.”

Six raucous guardsmen at a table by the door ceased their bawdy conversation and saluted as the two officers passed.

“Sirs,” a white-maned unicorn spoke up.

“At ease. We’re off-duty,” Tiberius reminded them. He squinted at the lieutenant’s insignia on the night-black unicorn’s silver-trimmed Guardian, then again, more closely, at the unicorn’s face. A pair of vivid, purple eyes matched his gaze unblinkingly.

“Tiberius, Keeneye. Keeneye, Tiberius.” Julius grunted, and said to the other five soldiers, “He’s had too much wine, is all.”

“Lieutenant Keeneye!” Tiberius exclaimed, making the unicorn twitch. “Now I remember. You entered officer training school two years behind me, but we were partners for our tactical readiness assessment. You and I set the curve for that particular exam, if I recall correctly.”

“Tiberius. I remember now.” Keeneye smiled, a bit uncomfortably, then noted the dark blue trim on Tiberius’ immaculate uniform. “Stellar Guard, huh? At least one of us has made something of ourselves. I’m just a Shield recon leader pulling double duty at the South Yard train station. Shining Armor pulled my whole squad out of Manehattan as soon as he heard about the threat.”

“Keeneye’s the best recon leader I’ve ever had, though,” croaked a black griffin with a scraggly, brown crest. “We’re his men, all five of us. He’s a natural.”

“Impressive,” said Tiberius. Behind him, Julius grumbled.

“Um.” Keeneye nodded at Julius. “You were saying?”

“I was saying that Melody’s going to kill me if I’m not back in fifteen minutes.” Julius glared at his winged friend.

“Right.” Tiberius made for the door. “Double duty, you said? Well, don’t stay up too late.”

“Is that an order, sir?”

“Just a friendly suggestion.”

The gust of cold wind and sent the charcoal hairs in Tiberius’ tail fluttering wildly as Julius held open the pub door. When he released it, the heavy, wooden portal crashed shut behind them, abruptly cutting off the Gilded Wing’s late-evening chatter, and the longtime companions shared a quiet moment under Luna’s half-moon.

“Going home?” Tiberius asked.

“Yup. You?”

“Back to the barracks,” Tiberius admitted. “I’ve got some papers I need to put in order. Assignments, field reports, that sort of thing.”

“‘Don’t stay up too late,’” Julius scoffed. “You never follow your own advice, do you?”

“I try to avoid it, yes.” The stone tower of Canterlot’s Great Chapel loomed above them, a quarter-mile west beyond several city blocks full of shops and restaurants. Further still, Shining Armor’s shield glowed faintly, tinting the pale moonlight with an unnatural pink hue.

“I’ll see you at the barracks tomorrow?” Julius asked, after another silent moment.

“Maybe,” Tiberius speculated. “Luna won’t be at the wedding, so Celestia wants me to represent the Stellar Guard in her place. I may leave before you arrive.” The high-ranking pegasus suddenly wondered if he’d been allowed to mention that. Luna was leading a sortie beyond the shield, and wasn’t due to return until the following evening, after the ceremony had ended. As a security precaution, most guardsmen hadn’t been informed of her absence, or of Tiberius’ major role in organizing security for the wedding ceremony.

“You’re leaving early?” Julius practically shuddered. “You have more discipline than I do.”

“Not more, and not less. It’s just in different places.” A gust of cool wind ruffled Tiberius’ feathers again, taking with it the last of the evening’s youth. “See you at the reception tomorrow?”

“Of course. Until then.”

With a shared nod, the two friends parted ways, Tiberius following the road north and east towards his office at the Royal Guard’s primary training complex, while Julius trudged northwest towards his home in one of Canterlot’s two residential blocks.

As his hooves carried him across the cold, white cobblestones, Tiberius’ mind drifted back to the day Luna had given him this particular assignment, barely a week ago.

“No.” Luna’s silver-shod hoof had clinked against the marble floor of her office with an air of elegant finality. “I admire your initiative, Tiberius, but your training in strategy is unparallelled. You belong in the city, where you can most effectively organize our forces. I’ll not risk such a valuable asset on a mere scouting mission.”

“I respectfully insist,” Tiberius had pressed. “I don’t know what threat we’re facing, but you and Celestia have doubled the guard at every gate and garrison, which leads me to believe that our foes are strong and numerous. Should they assault the shield, your presence will greatly inspire our defenders, and your powerful magic will swing the battle significantly in our favor.”

Luna had smiled faintly at her trusted advisor’s bullish insistence. Though by and large soft-spoken, Tiberius could be just as strong-willed as Julius when challenged.

“Behind Shining Armor’s shield, we are all safe,” she had explained. “Outside, you and your forces will be vulnerable to whatever ambush our enemies see fit to lay. My powerful magic, however, will defend me and my scouts quite well.”

“Do not worry,” Luna continued, addressing the remnants of doubt still evident on Tiberius’ face. “Shining Armor’s magic, though limited in scope, is just as strong as his sister’s. His shield will not collapse while I am gone.”

The smooth stone of the training complex suddenly brought Tiberius to a shuffling halt. If the Moon Princess didn’t know what kind of ambush she might encounter on her sortie, then she knew as little about the threat against Canterlot as he did.

The tipsy commander gazed at Shining Armor’s swirls of pale energy, and wondered what the Luna would encounter beyond the shield.

***

The clock above the bar chimed twelve times. Keeneye swirled the last of his beverage, a soft mix of apple juice and cold sparkling water, and glanced at each of his squad in turn.

“Time to go?” rumbled Castor, a crimson battlemage nearly as burly as Julius.

Keeneye nodded. “It’s time.” He tossed back the rest of his virgin cider, shook his pale mane from in front of his violet eyes, and stood.

“Come on,” complained a skinny black griffin with a wickedly hooked beak. “One more round?”

“Sorry, Scrag. Tiberius was right.” Keeneye pushed his chair in, as Castor did the same. “Our watch starts at six tomorrow, and it’s a long walk back to the Yard. Besides, you know how cranky I get when I get less than four hours’ sleep.”

“How you wake up so damn early, I’ll never know,” Scrag muttered. He turned to the brown earth pony beside him, and tapped the guardsman’s mug with a steel-gray claw, hooked to match the sharp curve of his beak. “Hey, Scruff. You doin’ this with me, or what?”

“You bet your butt-feathers I am.” Scruff knocked his flagon against Scrag’s, and the two friends quaffed the rest of their drinks.

Scruff let out a hearty belch. “Now I’m ready to leave. Hilt? Terracotta? You two ready?”

The two female members of Keeneye’s squad glanced up from their conversation. Terracotta, the pink medical pony with the auburn mane, was flushed and giggling.

“Yeah.” Hilt, a turquoise earth pony with a jeweled-dagger cutie mark, rolled her sea-gren eyes. “We’re coming.”

Keeneye held open the pub door as his dysfunctional troupe slowly stumbled into the chilly air.

“Hey, Keeneye,” Hilt called out as the six scouts began the long walk back to South Yard, “Terracotta and I were wondering how drunk you’d have to be--”

“No!!” the medic blushed, leaped forward, and slapped a hoof over Hilt’s mouth.

Keeneye glanced at the struggling duo, a slightly amused expression floating on his muzzle. “How drunk I’d have to be to what?”

Hilt, Keeneye’s close-combat specialist, grunted harshly and pushed the offending hoof away. “Fine. Terracotta was wondering if you’d ever go out for a casual drink with her, but she was too embarrassed to ask herself. I tried to tell her you were a cool commander, but she wouldn’t listen.”

Terracotta virtually melted into the cobblestones.

“I also tried to tell her that you never drink, but she wouldn’t listen to that, either.”

“Wow, you really are new, aren’t you?” Scruff broke into the conversation, as Terracotta shrunk back even further. “Keeneye doesn’t drink or smoke. He doesn’t go clubbing or listen to music, or watch any of the shows everyone else likes to watch. I mean, the guy doesn’t even sleep!”

“That’s not entirely true,” Lieutenant Keeneye interjected. “I sleep. I just don’t need as much as you. And I do listen to music.”

“Like what?”

“Flight of the Dragon-Flock is good, but I especially like the main theme from Dance of the Ursa Majors. In fact, anything from a Shetland-Destrier play is bound to be good.”

Scrag guffawed, and punched Scruff on the shoulder. “Shetland-Destrier? That dude lived like, what, six hundred years ago?”

“Three hundred,” Keeneye corrected. “He was also one of the most influential playwrights of his time, and the greatest artistic genius Equestria has known. He was the sole author and editor for all of his plays, and composed original scores for each of them.”

“What Keeneye is trying to say,” rumbled Castor, as he gently led Terracotta back to the group, “is that he doesn’t partake in such plebeian entertainment as drinking or dancing.”

“I never said drinking or dancing was plebeian,” Keeneye protested indignantly. “I just don’t like being drunk, and I enjoy classical music more than contemporary music. Is there something wrong with that?”

“No, nothing,” Hilt assured him, butting his armor to get him moving again. “We just enjoy giving you a hard time about it. That’s all.”

The six friends and squadmates passed out of Canterlot’s commercial district and walked in silence through a maze of warehouses, under Shining Armor’s glowing pink shield. Behind them, the spire of the Great Chapel disappeared behind the domed roof of the Royal Archives, the giant library and museum that dominated Canterlot’s center.

“Kind of eerie,” Scrag commented after several minutes. “I’ll be glad when all of this is over.”

“I could care less about the shield,” Hilt grumbled back, “but a solid night’s sleep? Now that would be nice.”

As Scrag and Hilt commiserated, Terracotta cautiously made her way to the head of the group.

“Excuse me,” she asked, once she’d reached Keeneye’s side, “I’m just curious about one more thing.”

“Anything.” Keeneye smiled amiably.

With a quick intake of breath, Terracotta mustered her courage and spoke. “If you don’t like being drunk, why do you take us to the bar every week?”

“Because I know you guys like it,” Keeneye replied. “Sharing experiences like this makes us more than just a squad. It makes us friends. And friends work better together and fight harder together. We have our quirks, sure, but our friendship makes us better than ninety-nine percent of other squads out there.”

“Besides, I don’t order anything alcoholic,” he continued. “I usually get a virgin apple cider.”

“I know that, but why not something obviously non-alcoholic? Like water?” Terracotta pressed.

Keeneye blinked in confusion. “Because I like apples.”

At this, Keeneye’s squad broke into another chorus of laughter.

“What?”

***

The deadbolt clicked into place as Julius quietly closed the door to his darkened home. Sneaking up the creaky stairs proved a difficult task in his burdensome combat armor, but when he reached the upper landing and no angry Melody stormed out of his bedroom to greet him, he allowed himself a victorious smile.

Tiptoeing into his bedroom, Julius then began the equally burdensome task of removing the Guardian’s many interlocking pieces, with only the faint light from outside to guide him. Gently, he unbuckled the last strap from his breastplate and made to put it away, but in the darkness missed his armor stand entirely. He winced as the heavy plate fell to the floor with a loud thunk.

“Don’t worry. I’m not asleep,” spoke Melody’s voice from the bed behind him.

“Sorry I’m late,” her husband apologized, slightly bashfully.

“You might want to turn on the lights. Dropping another piece like that will wake the kids.”

Julius nosed the door shut, then crossed the room and tapped the button on his bedside lamp. As a soft, white glow filled the room, he gave his wife his best shamefaced smile. “I know, I’m almost an hour late.”

Melody’s annoyed expression dissolved at Julius’ smile. Giving him a quick kiss on the nose, she asked, “How’s your friend Tiberius?”

“He’s okay. Could be better.” Julius moved back to his armor stand. “He thinks there’s some big conspiracy to blackmail Princess Cadance. Or that someone’s going to kidnap her, or murder her, or...”

Julius inspected his plumed helmet for a long moment, before placing it lovingly with the rest of his uniform.

“He’s worried too much about tomorrow,” the stallion continued at last. “Damn pegasus thinks too much, is all.”

His uniform properly put away, Julius returned to his side of the bed and sat. “Anyway, enough bar talk. How’s work at the foundry? Get any new orders?”

“Another for the Griffin Kingdoms. Those griffins love to build monuments of themselves.” Melody snuggled closer to Julius. “And none of the apprentices spilled molten gold on themselves, which is always a plus.”

“Commissioning statues is a much better hobby than raiding our border towns, that’s for sure.” Julius fluffed his pillow tiredly before laying down. “Julia still hasn’t got her cutie mark yet?”

“Not yet. But it was Career Day at her school, and according to her teacher, Julia wants to join the Shield just like her father.”

“Still? Someone needs to tell her that once she turns thirty, Shield duty won’t be nearly as exciting as she thinks it is. Drilling recruits in training isn’t nearly as fun as leading them in the field.”

“I think it’s sweet.”

“It is.” The couple spent a few moments nuzzling. “If she still has her heart set on Shield by the time she’s Marcus’ age, I’ll give her a long talk. Shield work makes for a good, long career, but I don’t want her deciding to be a guard just because I’m one.”

“Although...” he added thoughtfully. “Julia’s a unicorn, and not shabby one, either. She could do well in Celestia’s Solar Legion.”

Melody coughed daintily, breaking her husband out of his pondering. Julius found himself amazed yet again that his wife could be so demure at home, and still command the forceful presence necessary to maintain order on a chaotic factory floor.

“Speaking of our son Marcus,” the pink-maned unicorn spoke up, “his mid-year report came in today, and his math scores were... somewhat lower than I expected.”

“How low?”

“They were significantly below his class average.”

“For Celestia’s sake,” Julius swore, “his cutie mark is the Pythagorean Theorem. That colt spends too much time playing arcano-games and not enough time studying.”

“Well, you’re his father. Tell him that. I already have.”

“I’ll talk to him Sunday, once all this Royal Wedding business is done,” Julius promised. “Hopefully Shining Armor will take his damn shield down by then, too. It’s making me nervous.”

“Really? I think it’s comforting.”

“Comforting? I suppose. But what threat could possibly be so bad that we need to put a bubble around the whole city?” Julius sighed. “Now I sound like Tiberius.”

Melody kissed him again. “It’s your job to think about these things. Now let’s get some sleep. You’ve got work tomorrow.”

“On a Saturday, too,” Julius groaned, before wrapping his forelegs around his wife and settled back into bed.

“Your breath still smells like ale,” Melody whispered after cuddling Julius for a few minutes.

“Well, your mane smells like sulphur,” he retorted.

Melody giggled. “Good night, Julius.”

“Good night.”

***

Friday, Fifth of June.

It is cold for summer, although I suppose I should expect this. Canterlot is built into the side of a mountain, and I am too used to Manehattan’s muggy days.

I walked the walls again this afternoon, after training in the yard. The breeze helps me think. The master-at-arms says he has never seen anyone throw a javelin with such precision, although my telekinesis is not nearly as strong as it could be. It is all I can do to draw back the string of a bow.

Keeneye lifted his eyes to his window. He gazed into the moonlit yard, filled with crates and  targets and piles of scrap metal, then lifted his quill again.

I took my squad to Goldcrest’s again. We enjoyed ourselves immensely. My men have an endless capability to poke fun at me, though I know it is all in good humor. They are loyal and well-natured and I would not trade them for the world.

I would even begin to call them my friends.

Lieutenant Keeneye, Sixth Shield Recon, Manehattan Division.

With this, Keeneye closed his journal, tucking the quill into the pages to mark his place. He dimmed his lamp, then rolled into the narrow bed beside his desk and closed his eyes.

It was one-fifteen. That gave him four hours and forty-five minutes to sleep.

For Keeneye, this was more than enough time.