Author's Note
Well everyone, here it is. My very first work of fiction ever. As I said in the description, this is meant to be a short work about the everyday morning in the life of my OC, Chrome Shield, as his sort of formal introduction to this site.
As this is my first time writing fiction, there are likely to be issues with it. If you happen to find any, please let me know what they are so I can improve.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Even if you don’t, that’s fine too. Just be sure to (kindly) let me know why.
With that, dear reader, read on!
Monday Morning
Celestia’s radiant sun rose over the city of Canterlot. It illuminated everything under it, including the interior of an apartment not far from the city’s center, a sunbeam shining in through un-curtained windows, lighting up the plainly-colored rooms. One particular beam met with the face of the apartment’s inhabitant, where it scattered through the stallion’s dark blue coat and his medium-length dark gray and white mane, which fell messily around his horn and partially over his forehead. After a few moments, his eyes opened, revealing his golden irises to the dawn’s light.
Finally roused from sleep, the stallion named Chrome Shield blinked his eyes until his vision cleared, then pushed off his white sheets and rose from his bed to his hooves. He’d slept in a bad position again, as was his accidental bad habit, causing his right wrist a small amount of ache. Rolling his right forehoof around to flex the pained joint, he glanced over to his bedside clock, satisfied in finding that he’d woken up right on time once again – 06:00 AM, on the dot, thanks to Princess Celestia always raising the Sun at that time. He’d be satisfied with no less than this; ponies of his profession are required to be on time for all that they do, otherwise the very lives of the citizens they protect could be in jeopardy.
This was no new revelation for Chrome, however. This lesson was drilled into him along with the rest of his career skills and knowledge when he was in basic training to become a guard seven years ago, enlisting right out of high school. To him, it only made sense; after all, the reason for his early enlistment was literally stamped right on his backside: a white shield, with two yellow bolts of lightning fanning out on either side.
Events over the past few years had made him, as well as all members of Equestria’s military, much busier than in the years prior to his enlistment. Ever since Princess Luna returned those few years ago, when those six mares from Ponyville took matters into their own hooves and saved Equestria from the millennia-old menace of Nightmare Moon, it seemed things just kept getting crazier and crazier. And with all due respect to Their Royal Highnesses Celestia and Luna, as well as Princess Cadence, he was glad that he wasn’t part of their personal guard squads. They’ve been… busier than any other units in the Equestrian Armed Forces of late, what with all of Equestria’s enemies going straight for the Princesses. No, he was part of a different unit.
While the Royal Guards personally defend the Princesses and the rest of the Royal Family, and the six Bearers of the Elements of Harmony occasionally save the world from a whole different class of enemy – from a disgruntled lunar goddess to the literal god of chaos, Chrome was on the City Guard, which was responsible for the protection of the everyday pony, from the colts and fillies down at the local school to the movers and shakers of high society. If a pony wasn’t a member of the Royal Family, they fell under the watchful protection of himself and every other City Guard.
However, he was in no condition to be protecting anything or anypony until he’d had his morning coffee. So he sluggishly moved out of his bedroom, and trotted through his small (but not cramped) living room to the kitchen.
Arriving in the white- and blue-tiled kitchen, Chrome grasped the kettle in the golden aura of his magic and started to fill it with water from the tap. As it filled, his eyes moved across the windowsill above the sink, upon which sat the souvenirs he’d collected to remember his travels throughout Equestria. Every time he visited a new place, he’d take a small stone with him to remember it once he’d left, and label it with a small paper tag. He had souvenirs from Fillydelphia, the Crystal Empire, Canterlot, and Detrot.
This last stone had a special place at the center of the windowsill. It may have been nothing more than a gray, nondescript piece of concrete, but it was a reminder of where he came from, and of his parents who still lived there. He wrote to them from time to time, but it was still nice to have a physical piece of home there with him. Sure, Detrot wasn't the nicest city by any means, but the sentimentality was still there.
The kettle filled with enough water for one mug, he placed it back on the stove and turned on the heat with one magical grip, and with another he pulled a bag of coffee grounds from the pantry, as well as a filter and mug. He also placed a pan on the stove’s other burner, and cracked an egg into it, along with a bit of butter to keep it from sticking. As he waited for the water to boil and his egg to fry, he turned to look at the calendar next to the refrigerator.
Today he was assigned to patrol duty in the Market District starting at 06:45, the same time as every other post in the city. He let out a sigh, dreading today’s assignment. Patrolling the Market District always meant two things. Firstly, it meant huge groups of ponies shoving their way around him and everypony else, which made it harder to spot and chase down any pickpockets or thieves, and secondly, it also meant an entire day of breathing in the scents of food that he wasn’t allowed to break from his post to buy and eat until he was on his half-hour break. After four hours. And then he was on for another six until the market closed for the day. It wasn’t even in one of the particularly interesting parts of town, for Celestia’s sake! Chrome loved his job; really, he did, but being placed on “mall cop duty” would dishearten any guard. The only good part of it was that there’s always the lucky chance that some pretty mare from out of town would ask him for directions and he’d be able to save her day that way.
With a sigh, Chrome decided that there was no point in dwelling on his disdain, however, so his dread passed quickly. The stress of patrolling the market was hardly the worst thing he’d been subjected to during his tenure as a guard. That title would easily go to the day a massive swarm of Changelings and their queen invaded the city. That was a decidedly terrible day for… well, just about everypony, really, but especially the guards, although their exhaustive efforts were rewarded with a statistic of zero civilian fatalities on that day. He himself was lucky enough to not have been wounded beyond some mostly-superficial cuts and scrapes, as much of his job involved putting up a shield and keeping himself and others behind it, or occasionally firing off a few bolts of magic at any assailant that got too close, but he still had a few too many close encounters for his taste. But that was all in the past.
Having nothing else to do until his kettle whistled, he seated himself on the couch in front of his living room window to look at the yellow and orange that Celestia’s sun cast onto the morning sky, and to watch the other early-risers of the city join him in the land of the conscious. The egg in the pan began to sizzle, telling him that his breakfast was now ready. To save himself work on washing dishes later, he simply grabbed a fork and ate it out of the pan with a bit of ground pepper. He chased it down with an apple and put the pan in the sink when he finished.
After his kettle finally shrieked its indication of boiling water, and he’d prepared his mug of coffee, he took the mug with him in his magical grip as he trotted over to his front door, which was situated in the minimally-furnished, but still homely, living room. Resting on the floor below the mail slot in the door was the day’s newspaper, which he had little time to read most days, but was still subscribed to since his friend wrote for that particular paper. Still, there was always the off-chance that he could read it when he got home that evening, and so he tossed it onto his coffee table. Also resting on the floor were some spam letters and advertisements, which were promptly thrown out, as well as a letter from his younger brother. This joined the newspaper on the table. The mail check finished, he drained the rest of his coffee.
After placing his coffee mug in the sink so he’d remember to wash it later, he glanced at his living room clock for a time check. 06:15. Still on time.
Now that he was fully awake, he could finally get on with his morning routine. Stepping into the bathroom to shower, relieve himself and brush his teeth, he stepped out feeling practically like a new stallion. The only tangible changes, however, were that his coat now smelled better than it did before (like a mountain spring, if the shampoo bottle’s label was to be believed), his mane was now parted mostly to the right side of his horn, and he generally no longer looked like a zom-pony. Doing some quick mental math, he figured that since he had to be on-station at the Market District for patrol duty by 06:45, and it takes him about ten minutes to walk there, he had just enough time to put on his armor and equipment before stepping out of the door.
He’d been surprised when, in basic training, he’d learned that guards are required to keep their armor at their place of residence. However, when he’d thought on it, he realized it made sense. If there were to be some sort of crisis and they were required to respond to it despite being off-shift, they couldn’t do their job as effectively without access to some sort of equipment at all times. However, they were forbidden from bringing any sort of weapon home with them, for obvious public safety reasons.
Returning to his bedroom and opening his closet, he pushed aside the hanging clothes – his dress blues, a more casual vest, a small selection of ties and accessories – birthday gifts from his cousin, who worked in a small town near the Crystal Empire as a tailor – until he revealed what he’d been seeking. Resting on a special stand was his set of City Guard armor, forged to fit him when he first graduated from basic training.
Rather than the Royal Guards, which wore elegant golden armor (as they were more often associated with Equestria’s royalty and had to look the part), City Guards such as himself got more simply-designed steel plate armor. However, the less-ornate design meant nothing in terms of protection. It could still take just as much punishment as a Royal Guard’s. The only difference between the two armor types was that City Guard armor wasn’t enchanted to change the coat color of its wearer, unlike the Royal Guard armor, which always changed its wearer’s coat to white or gray.
Starting with the boots he strapped the protective layers on, continuing to don the body armor, with the sergeant’s chevrons embossed on the chest, and finally the helm, which bore the same blue crest as that which the Royal Guards' helmets did, he suited himself into his polished steel plating. It had become almost like a second skin to him – wearing the same armor for seven years of service can have that effect on any guard. Most ponies would have had trouble maintaining normal posture or moving about in the armor, but basic training had strengthened him to the point where he could move normally in and out of the armor. His body wasn’t overly strong in appearance, however; the only sign of this increased musculature was a just slightly broader chest.
Looking himself over in the large mirror on his bedroom wall to ensure that all the armor was fastened properly on his body with no straps dangling or protruding, and that he himself looked as neat and tidy as possible (which required tucking a runaway lock of mane back under his helm), he was finally satisfied with his appearance.
Trotting back over to his front door, his steel-clad hooves clanking lightly against the hardwood floor (despite his stepping lightly to avoid waking his downstairs neighbor), he took one last look over to his living room clock. 06:35. Right on time.
With that, Chrome Shield stepped out of the door to start his day. As much as some small part of his mind hoped for a little excitement, the more sensible majority of it wanted a slow day. In his line of work, a slow day is a good day.
