The Tip of the Spear

Chapters

Unguarded Conversations
In the Line of Duty
Where Valor Lies
Legitimate Concerns

Unguarded Conversations

“Art school? You want to go to art school?”

The hulking pegasus stallion grinned. “Yeah, bro! I’ve wanted to explore my artistic side since I was a colt, ya know? It’s like, my dream, you know. Well,” he amended, adjusting the spear propped against his shoulder, “my other dream.”

Shining Armor stared at his fellow guard, trying to keep the grin from his face and failing. “You, you, actually want to go to art school?”

The dark orange pegasus huffed. “Yeah, bro. I do. What’samatter? You think I can’t?”

“Spearhead, I—

“The Guard pays for schooling, and I’m sitting on the whole payout since I don’t have debt. I can attend night classes so I don’t miss my shifts, and now that I’m stationed in Canterlot, it couldn’t be a better time. It’s like fate, bro. Why you gotta hate?”

Shining Armor chuckled, shaking his head and punching the other stallion lightly in the shoulder. The two of them were technically on duty but, since the castle courtyard they occupied was empty of other ponies, they were free to chat as they had back at the Academy. “Hey, I’m not hating, bro. I’m happy for you. I really am. I know you’ve always loved this modern art stuff.” Even if I don’t understand any of it, he added mentally. “I’m just trying to picture a Royal Guard hanging out at an art college. You’re gonna make their hippie heads explode.”

Spearhead gave a distant look. “Art belongs to us all, bro. It is not held alone by any one people.”

“You know, I can never tell if you’re kidding or not when you say stuff like that.”

The other stallion shrugged, his expression at once thoughtful and blank. “Art speaks to me, bro. It speaks, and I repeat what it says, you know?”

“See? Like that. That right there. I can’t tell if you’re messing with me or being dead serious.”

“Is there really any difference between the serious and the ridiculous?” asked Spearhead, his expression not changing. “Can two things co-exist without destroying each other? Is there any separation in the first place? Are destruction and creation simply two sides of the same bit?”

Shining Armor glared. “Spear, I swear, if you start in with that Schrodinflank’s cat is dead, Schrodinflank’s cat is not dead crap I will bust your tail back down to buck private so fast it’ll make your head spin.”

“Well, bro, if I wasn’t an officer I’d have more time to go to art school.”

“Not if I stick you on latrine duty.”

“Ah, the porcelain throne,” sighed Spearhead. “So much art has been born there.”

The Captain of the Royal Guard cocked an eyebrow. “See, once again, I can’t tell if you’re being metaphorical, literal, or just—

Shining Armor hissed in pain as the migraine took him, a lancing pain that seemed to start somewhere in his throat and spear up through his eye. He grunted and held his throbbing head. Instantly, the pegasus was as his side, supporting his fellow officer. “Woah, you good, bro?” demanded Spearhead.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” replied Shining Armor through gritted teeth. “Just the … prospect of talking philosophy with you gave me a headache, you know?”

Spearhead cocked an eyebrow, not seeming amused. “You need to get more sleep, boss. Between the stress of the wedding and keeping that shield up, you’re looking pale.”

Shining Armor felt another headache coming on, and this time it wasn’t the magical kind. “I’m looking … what?”

“Pale,” deadpanned Spearhead.

The captain stared back at his subordinate for several beats, his face flat. Spearhead stared back, equally expressionless. As usual, it was Shining Armor who cracked first. It started as a snicker, then swiftly built into full chuckling. He was outright roaring with laughter before Spearhead finally joined in. Another twinge of pain brought his mirth to an abrupt halt and he gave his friend a rueful glare. “You’re a terrible pony, Spearhead.”

“Shouldn’t have laughed at my dream, bro.”

“If it was one of your dreams, Spear, it probably merited the laughter,” interrupted a female voice. Shining Armor and Spearhead turned to see two armored ponies entering the courtyard. The speaker, a magenta coated unicorn mare with stark silver mane and tail, wore the armor of a captain and carried a sabre at her side. Her harness had a few more accents on it than typical armor, including etched filigree and red barding that matched the inlay of her sword, but none of it broke regulation. Technically.

Her companion, a dark red-coated earth pony stallion with crimson-brown hair, wore the heavier variant of standard EUP armor and carried a maul. His harness bore a sergeant’s chevrons, and his smile was cheeky as he spoke. “Back here hob-nobbing it with the future royalty, eh, Spear? I see how it is. Gonna leave the rest of us meat cans in the lurch while you move on to new and better things.”

The mare rolled her eyes at her companion’s remark. “Brick, I think you mean, ‘back here hob-nobbing it with the future royalty, Lieutenant Spearhead, Sir,’ don’t you?”

Spearhead snorted. “Naw, Argent. Ranks and titles are for out there!” He gestured to the rest of the castle grounds as though it were another world. “In here, we are all one and the same, united in our shared ponishness.”

Argent Sabre blinked her violet eyes slowly. “Oh, sweet Celestia, has he been getting philosophical again?”

Shining Armor nodded. “Eeyup.”

“No wonder your headaches are getting worse.”

Brick snickered as Spearhead glared at the mare. Shining Armor rolled his eyes, but couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “What did you need, Argent?”

“Your bride-to-be is looking for you. Said something about feeling like she was tripping over all the guards.”

Shining Armor sighed. Argent’s tone made it abundantly clear that she did not agree with Cadence’s assessment, but that she was trying to be diplomatic for the sake of her old Academy friend. “I’ll handle it. Sorry if she’s been snippy. With having to handle all the wedding preparations by herself, she’s been stressed and—

Argent waved him off, her face softening. “Don’t worry about it, sir. I know I can be a bit of a nag myself when I get cranky.”

“A bit?” mumbled Brick, earning a glare from Argent and prompting him to whistle innocently.

Shining Armor smiled, feeling grateful to have such supportive friends. The feeling was accompanied by a pang of guilt. “I wish you all could be in the wedding party,” he said, regret in his voice. “If there were anypony else that I trusted to watch the city during the celebration I would but…” he shrugged.

Spearhead threw a leg over his shoulder. “Hey, no worries, bro. We just want you to be happy on your special day.” He struck a noble pose, head bowed with one hoof over his heart. “If that means we have to pace the castle with the aimless frenzy of a kitchen guard, then so be it.”

“Thanks, Spear. I … think,” replied Shining Armor.

Argent tilted her head towards the exit. “You should get going, boss.”

“Yeah. Never keep a lady waiting,” added Brick. “Ever.”

Shining Armor nodded and started to leave. Before he departed the courtyard he glanced back at Spearhead. “And Spear? When you become a big, successful artist, I expect an invite to your gallery for me and my wife.”

“Totally, bro. Cross my heart when arrows fly, raise a spearhead to the sky.”

Argent rounded on her fellow officer. “That’s not a real swear!”

“It is too a real swear.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

The captain chuckled as he left to the sound of their bickering. So these are the ponies watching my back, then.

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“Is not!”

“Is too!”

None I’d rather have do it.

Author's Note

I'm hoping to put the chapters for this one out pretty quickly, so I didn't really spend as much time editing as I usually do. If you notice errors, let me know. This will not be a terribly long story, so expect new chapters relatively soon.

In the Line of Duty

Private Comet was going to die. He was going to get grabbed, covered in ick, be turned into a pod pony, and then die in whatever horrible fashion pod ponies died. He knew this with absolute certainty.

But Comet was an EUP Guardspony, dangit, and that meant he wasn’t going to die without a fight!

“Covering fire!” he shouted, charging up his horn to send a flurry of magical blasts at the bug-like creatures that had already cut down half of his squad. It was difficult to see the unconscious forms of his comrades as they were dragged away, mostly because his vision was blocked by the wall of black insectoids advancing towards him. Half his primal instincts screamed at him to charge, to rescue his friends. Half his primal instincts shrieked that he run before the nightmare creatures got him too.

Fortunately, neither of those instincts were in control. The instinct that Drill Sergeant Ironside had forged in him was in control, and it told Comet to lock that fear deep down in the pit of his soul where nothing could touch it and to keep firing as he pulled back slowly, covering the pitiful remnants of his squad as they dragged three wounded guards to safety.

His blasts knocked four of the monsters down, killing or incapacitating them he didn’t know, but the rest kept coming, so Comet kept firing. He kept firing until his horn burned. Until his neck shook. Until his head ached like it were ready to split. But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. Not until his squad was safe. Nothing else mattered. Because he was dead anyway.

The heatwaves from his horn were so intense that he didn’t see the insectoid dropping from overhead until it was too late. The armored carapace crashed into his spine and he crumpled with a cry. Tears of pain and fear sprang to his eyes, but his Drill Sergeant’s voice rejected them. He tried to twist to fire into the monster’s face at point blank, because if he was going to die he was going to die fighting. But the creature saw his attack coming and struck his horn. Lancing anguish shot through his body and he couldn’t quite hold back a scream. His comrades saw him go down and rushed to his aid, but they were blocked by yet more attackers that had swarmed from above.

He couldn’t blame them. Not really. He was dead anyway. He just hoped that they’d make it out okay. From his crumpled position he could see three bugs that he’d missed earlier creeping towards him, forked tongues snaking out as they hissed with malicious delight at their victim. Comet was terrified. But Drill Sergeant had taught him to turn that terror into defiance. So he roared his defiance at the predators as they sprang because, by Celestia, if he was going to die he was going to die proud.

Then the spear shot through the air like a bolt of lightning, striking down three of the monsters as though swatting flies. In a flash, an orange-coated pegasus was there, bucking the bug that pinned Comet through a nearby shop window. The stallion pivoted to face the rest of the swarm, which hissed at the interloper. With half-lidded eyes, the pegasus hefted his spear. “Kickin’ a stallion when he’s down?” he asked with a lazy surfer accent totally at odds with his apparent lethality. “Not cool, dudes.”

The swarm spat their hate and prepared to charge, but before they could a red earth pony burst through the shop wall behind them, flattening three of them with shattered stone, hooves, and an oversized maul. “Heeeere’s Bricky!”

Bugs flew to meet their attackers. The earth pony set to immediately, wielding the maul with the ease of a bat and sending the insects in all directions with a manic laugh. Perhaps not wanting to face the mad titan, the rest of the swarm charged the pegasus.

They fared no better. Without apparent effort, the orange pony laid about with his spear, slashing and bashing his assailants aside with a speed that belied his size. The bugs not cut down in the brutal melee took the only reasonable course of action: they fled. The two stallions watched them go, the earth pony with a grimace, the pegasus with an oddly thoughtful look. "If an artist must suffer to make good art," he mused, "does it still count as suffering if I didn't get that banged up?"

The red pony, Brick, apparently, shot the pegasus a glare. “I swear, Spearhead, I’m gonna kill you one of these days.”

“Don’t swear, bro. It’s not polite.”

“I hate you.”

Spearhead didn’t respond, but looked down at Comet, who stared up with mouth agape. “You alright there, little bro? You look like your horn was about to explode.”

Comet pushed himself to his hooves, wincing at the headache that assailed him and knowing that he’d have a serious magical hangover the next day if this kept up. But he was a soldier, and apparently he wasn’t going to die yet, so he grabbed a fallen spear from the ground. “Fit to fight,” he responded, “Sir,” he added when he saw the lieutenant’s barding.

Lieutenant Spearhead smiled. “Good colt.” He looked around as though assessing the situation, and Comet took the time to do the same. The rest of the squad was already setting the soldiers covered in green slime free, and leaving them with eight ambulatory ponies and four injured ones. “See, Brick?” said the lieutenant. “These whitejobs are doin’ alright.”

Brick, a sergeant by his barding, rolled his eyes and didn’t respond to the jab. “Half and half?”

“Yup.”

“Alright then.” Then he sucked in a gust of air and roared out in parade ground fashion. “Listen up you miserable, misbegotten excuses for fighting ponies! We got a changeling horde sweeping through Canterlot! The palace is under siege, and we do not know the status of the Colonel or the Royals! So today is your lucky day, because you whitejobs are being conscripted into Operation Flyswatter! Four of you will guard the wounded and help protect civilians, while the rest of you lucky maggots are going to join in Captain Argent’s glorious campaign to retake the citadel! We are going to smash, plaster, smear, and otherwise eradicate each and every bug we encounter until I cannot see the whiteness of Canterlot for all the buggers we are going to paint it with!” He paused for a moment to ensure his words had the desired effect before shouting, “Hoo-ah?!”

“Hoo-ah, Sergeant!” came the throaty reply.

Brick grimaced and glanced at Spearhead. “Eh. They’re okay, I guess,” he admitted.

Spearhead shouldered his spear as the two veterans led the way to the citadel. “Knew you’d come around, dude. Nice speech, by the way.”

Comet made a point of being one of the four that followed the two. After all, if he wasn’t going to die just yet, then he might as well go along for the ride. The Drill Sergeant Ironside instinct said so.

Captain Argent advanced towards the enemy at a brisk walk. She was peeved. No, she was incensed. A changeling noted her approach and flew at her, its black horn gleaming. With a flick of her magic, her saber was out, swinging at throat level. The changeling dropped without a sound and she flicked her blade to clean it before snapping it back into its scabbard.

Unacceptable. Simply un-acceptable, she thought to herself as she stormed down the halls of Canterlot Castle. A trio of changeling swarmed at her. Her sword rang out and went to work. How utterly detestable! she fumed as she stepped over the bodies. She heard shouts behind her as the guards she’d rescued realized that she’d split from the group and advanced without them. Argent ignored them. If they weren’t present, then she needn’t worry about friendly fire. Bad enough that an ancient legend decides to be real, but on the day of one of my oldest friend’s weddings?! She turned a corner and found herself confronted with dozens of changelings. They hissed as they hovered on their ugly little wings. Argent’s lip curled in disgust as she drew her saber. “Unacceptable!” she shouted. The changelings did not seem impressed, and flew to meet her.

Argent raised her steel saber vertically in front of her eyes as though in a warrior’s salute. But she would never salute creatures so vile as to deliberately attack innocent civilians. She shut her eyes and focused upon her blade as the changelings dove in for the attack. Her blade pulsed with her silver aura, and then four new sabers, forged of shimmering white light, flashed out from her metal blade, dipped in salute to their master, and rose to the attack, spitting the first four changelings upon their tips. Then her eyes opened and she followed her weapons into the melee.

The blademaster was not, strictly speaking, aware of how long the melee lasted. All she knew was that her sabers flashed, her reinforcements arrived, and eventually there were no more changelings.

She stood panting for a moment, glancing down to see that her armor had become rather scarred in the fight. With a tug of magic she adjusted the red trim on her barding.

“Rough day, Argie?” came the languid voice behind her.

Argent turned to see Spearhead standing there, with Brick and a few dozen EUP Guards behind him. She gave him a frosty smile. “I’ve had better.” She cast a glance at the guards and sized them up: mostly green whitejobs, with a few older soldiers tossed into the mix, but after today they were all veterans. “How many did you get?”

“About sixty. The rest of them we sent to protect the city.”

“I found thirty-two,” she responded. “Not exactly a full fighting company, but we’ll make do, I suppose.” Her eyes flicked to the assembled soldiers. “Gentleponies, your orders are simple: find the Royals, find the Elements, find the civilians, and protect them at all costs. Stick with ponies you know so that it will be harder for the enemy to impersonate them.” She shouldered her saber. “Should you become separated from your fellows, your standing orders are to go find the nearest enemy and kill it. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am!”

She gave a curt nod. “Very good. Let’s be about it.”

Spearhead tore into the aerial melee, his weapon a blur as he cut a path through the swarm. The changelings attempted to use their superior numbers to encircle him and bring him to the ground, but he was just too fast. On the ground, Brick charged through the enemy like a plow, with Argent directly behind him, her flashing blades cutting down anything the two stallions missed.

Behind them advanced the Royal Guard in tight wedge formation to protect anypony from getting picked off, smashing through the changelings like a ram. The earth ponies formed the front of the wedge on the ground while the pegasi guarded them from overhead assault. Behind them, the unicorns advanced at a steady pace, laying down a withering barrage of fire. What they lacked in experience they made up for in enthusiasm. More than once their magical blasts had saved Spearhead from getting overwhelmed.

Which is something of a concern at the moment, he thought as he swept his spear laterally to gain some space. The changelings hissed and tried to avoid the polearm, but precision strikes with its point knocked three out of the fight and made the rest pull back. Too easy, he thought with satisfaction.

…too easy… he realized with trepidation. He spun around to find his vision filled with a snarling changeling maw and braced himself for the pain of fangs on his snout. But that never happened. There was a flash of light and the insectoid dropped with a cry. Looking to see where the shot had come from, he caught sight of Private Comet, easily identifiable by the look of pain and triumph on his face and the smoldering horn on his head. Spearhead flipped him a quick salute before diving back into the fight. Gonna have to put that kid up for a medal after this.

The changelings put up a good fight, but in the narrow confines of the castle their numbers couldn’t stand up to the organized wall of armor and death advancing on them. But they kept coming. Spearhead couldn’t help but marvel at their determination, and blanch in horror at their single-minded willingness to die. I don’t know who or what’s driving them on, but I don’t wanna meet it!

And so the changelings continued to charge, using their magic to power their dive-bomb maneuvers in an attempt to explode into the formation of guards. The sheer weight of magical firepower opposing them kept them at bay, but they never slowed. From his superior vantage point, Spearhead could see the madness of their charge clearly: In the changelings’ eagerness to attack, they were flying into the walls and ceilings, causing small explosions as though their pent up rage needed an outlet, even if it meant attacking the castle itself. Geez, look at the size of those cracks! At this rate they’re going to—

Then Spearhead realized what they were doing. “Pull back!” He shouted. “They’re gonna bring down the ceiling! Fall back! Fall back!”

The guards slowed, at first not seeing what he was seeing through the melee. When they did, they began back-pedaling to get away from the fissures as the ceiling cracked and groaned under the weight of unstable masonry. Eyeing their rate of retreat, Spearhead guessed that they’d be safe. Which only left—

There was a cataclysmic crack and a support beam shattered, sending a torrent of broken masonry hurtling downwards.

Straight towards Argent and Brick.

The two soldiers were too far forward to have pulled back with the rest, and weren’t fast enough to move out of the way. There was simply no time. No time for Spearhead to think.

So he just reacted.

With speed that would have earned him a spot with the Wonderbolts, Spearhead dove for the ground. At the last instant he leveled out and flew laterally, right for Argent and Brick. With all the force he could muster, he hit them like a cannon round, pushing them out of the path of the rubble. It was fast. Faster than he’d ever flown in his life.

But not fast enough to follow them to safety.

A thousand hammer blows smote him to the ground with the wrath of an angry titan.

He felt pain.

And then nothingness.

Author's Note

Next up: the conclusion.

I haven't had the chance to do a serious proof-reading of this, so let me know if there are any errors in case I don't get the chance to do it in the next few days. Or if I miss something.

Where Valor Lies

Shining Armor ran a hoof through his hair, a grimace marring his features as he read through the casualty report for the third time. He didn’t really need to read it again; with the Queen’s magic gone, his addled state had disappeared, and while it left a monster of a headache in its place, that it wasn’t as though he couldn’t focus. He wasn’t really sure why he read it a third time. Perhaps he was just being thorough. Perhaps he’d picked up some of his sister’s paranoia. Perhaps he just didn’t want to believe what he was reading. Or perhaps it’s because if you’d done your job, there wouldn’t be a casualty list.

“The soldiers who were in critical condition have all been stabilized,” Surgeon Captain Sawbones was saying as he washed his hooves. The grizzled earth pony seemed to have developed a week’s worth of stubble in the last few hours, and a detached part of Shining absently wondered if the veteran medic’s facial hair grew faster when he was ‘in the field’ in some capacity. “It was touch and go for a few of ‘em, but we’ve got some darned fine doctors here.” He grabbed a towel to dry his hooves and used the damp rag to mop the sweat and grime from his face. “Some of the boys will have a long road to recovery, and that’ll mean prosthetics for some, but they’ll live.” The doctor stared at his reflection in the washroom mirror, looking as tired as Shining Armor felt. “All things considered, we got off lucky,” he mused quietly. “When was the last time you heard of an invasion being repulsed with no friendly fatalities?”

Shining Armor stared at the long list of Guard casualties. The changelings had been trying to take them alive, and so had opted for non-lethal tactics. But ‘non-lethal’ was a broad term, and in more than one case the bugs had apparently given up trying. If the attack had lasted more than a few minutes, the list would certainly have included more than a few ‘KIAs.’ As it was, most of Shining’s soldiers would make full recoveries. But not all. Even the best medicine couldn’t regenerate limbs, or replace lost eyes. “Yeah,” he said, his voice husky. “Lucky.”

Sawbones didn’t look over at him, but continued to stare at the mirror. “Lucky,” he repeated. Nothing else needed to be said. They’d both seen enough action to know the score.

With a sigh, Shining Armor forced himself to put the list down. “You should get some rest, Doc. You look dead on your feet.”

The Surgeon Captain had just finished a six-hour trauma surgery on a critically injured mountain climber when the attack started. That, in turn, had been eight hours ago, and he’d probably been up hours longer prepping for the initial surgery. Even so, he looked ready to gripe. “Shouldn’t you do the same, sir? After all, you’re recovering from a rather hearty dose of dark magic.”

Shining Armor cocked an eyebrow. “I will rest soon, Doc. But you need to rest now. When was the last time you slept?”

Sawbones grunted. “I’ve pulled longer days in the field.”

“Yes, Doc. In the field. But you said it yourself; all the patients are out of danger, and there are some ‘darned fine doctors’ looking after things. So hit the sack, Bones. That’s an order.”

The doctor opened his mouth to object, but his objection turned into a yawn. “Fine,” he grumbled. “But only if you promise to take it easy. You’ve had a serious shock to your system, and I do not need my sleep interrupted by rushing you to the O.R.”

“Duly noted,” smirked Shining Armor.

With an unintelligible mumble, Sawbones put his hoof on the door to leave. Before he did, though, he half turned to face his commanding officer. “Sir, I’m one of the best combat surgeons in the business,” began the stallion. “You know that. But Doctor Cortex is a specialist in his field. The specialist, really.” The medic paused. “Your mate’s in good hooves, sir.”

Shining Armor forced a smile. “Thanks, Bones.” His piece said, Sawbones left. Shining sighed, taking a moment to let the silence of the now-empty room soothe him. But he didn’t stay long. He had work to do. And so he followed Sawbones out.

Cadence was waiting for him when he exited the washroom, seated on a bench eating an energy bar under the watchful gaze of four guardponies. She beamed when she saw him and bolted down the last of her bar before greeting him with a nuzzle. He returned her affection, resting his muzzle over her neck, not particularly caring about a public display of affection in front of four soldiers. He simply let the softness of her fur, the warmth of her embrace, the beating of her heart against his chest soothe him. “Cadence,” he murmured in her ear.

“I’m here,” she replied in the same tone. And for a moment they simply stood like that.

Then he pulled back from the embrace and gave her a sympathetic look. “You don’t need to do this with me,” he repeated for the third time that hour. “You need to rest. You were down there for days. And you’ve got our real wedding to prepare for, remember?”

It had been suggested that the couple have their wedding in two days, to reassure the populace after the fright of the attack and to celebrate the Equestiran victory. Shining Armor had been reluctant, given the massive damage the attack had done. If any of his soldiers had been killed he would have flatly refused. As it was, the bullet they had collectively dodged had made him painfully eager to be married before something else happened to his bride-to-be. So he wasn’t keen to let her exhaust herself by accompanying him on his rounds.

For her part, Cadence appeared just as keen not to be left behind. She cocked an eyebrow in her ‘I-love-you-but-no’ face and said, “Shining, I’m rested, rehydrated,” she held up her empty wrapper in a blue magic grip, “re-nourished, and I’m an alicorn.” She brought a hoof up to rest on his withers. “Honey, I’m fine.”

He smiled and kissed her. “Can’t blame a guy for checking.” She smiled and they left to make their rounds.

One hundred and thirty-seven assorted stallions and mares had been injured in the changeling attack. Of them, one hundred and twenty-two were soldiers. Twenty-nine had been injured severely, and sixteen critically. Shining Armor and Cadence visited them all, to commend them for their heroism and to thank them for their sacrifices. To more than one Shining Armor brought medals for valor and for injuries sustained in combat. To all of them they brought the gratitude of the Army, the Royals, the Kingdom, and themselves.

Most soldiers were awake for the visit. Some of the younger ones seemed baffled that their commander would visit them personally, much less a Royal. They seemed even more baffled by the medals and commendations. After all, in their minds they’d simply done their duty. Shining Armor found that touching. One Private Comet, his horn wrapped in aloe-soaked gauze, had been utterly dumbstruck when Shining presented him with the Bronze Sun for courage in battle. Some of the veterans felt comfortable enough to crack jokes with Armor, though they maintained their decorum when addressing Cadence. They accepted their honors with dignity.

A few soldiers were asleep for the visit, either resting from their injuries and fatigue or mercifully unconscious thanks to the painkillers being pumped through their veins. The number of ponies who had lost limbs was low, but some soldiers were so wrapped in bandages that they looked like they were being prepared for an embalming. These few received a medal on the table, a salute from Shining, and tears from Cadence.

But the hardest visit of all came last.

Most of the critically injured patients had rooms of their own. In front of one of these, Shining found two familiar faces.

Argent Sabre and Brick were a sorry sight, the latter wrapped in bandages and leaning on his maul for support, the former looking like she might fall asleep where she stood. Both were still covered in the grit and grime of combat, their armor dented and pitted, their fur matted and stained. But they stood guard, alert in spite of their injuries and exhaustion. At the sight of the couple’s approach, Argent an Brick snapped to attention, saluting. Argent addressed the pair. “Your Highness, Sir, I—

Shining Armor brushed past the salute and give his old Academy friend a warm hug, which she returned after a moment’s hesitation, before grasping fetlocks with Brick. “Thank Celestia the two of you are in one piece,” he said feelingly.

“Well, we couldn’t let you have all the glory, boss,” Brick chuckled, wincing as his cracked ribs protested.

With a frown, Shining reprimanded him. “You should be in bed, soldier.” He glanced at Argent, noting that she wasn’t standing as rigidly as usual. “Both of you.”

Argent snorted. “Oh, pish tosh, Sir. We’ve suffered through worse.” Her eyes became distant. “And it very nearly was much, much worse.”

Shining nodded, looking past her at the door they guarded. “How is he?”

The unicorn mare bit her lip. “He’ll… live,” she answered eventually. “Beyond that… well… Doctor Cortex is with him now.”

Silence followed her statement as all four ponies seemed to find the floor fascinating. At length, Cadence cleared her throat. “Well, I’m still a little weak on my hooves. Would you all mind if we sat?”

Shining Armor knew his fiancé well. He might have wanted her to get rest, but she hadn’t been kidding about her alicorn blood’s healing properties; she was standing straighter than any of them at the moment. She wasn’t asking to sit for herself.

“Of course, Princess,” chorused Argent and Brick as the four ponies moved to the nearest benches.

But they don’t know that. He gave his fiancé a quick peck on the cheek.

They sat in silence for a time, each alone with their own thoughts. At one point, Argent looked like she might drift off, and Shining was just wondering if she would notice him fetching a blanket for her when the door opened. In a flash, all four were on their feet.

Dr. Cortex, and tan unicorn stallion with grey hair, stood in the doorway. He glanced around at the four of them. “Your Highness. Sir Armor,” he said formally. Shining guessed that he’d greeted the others earlier.

“How is he, Doctor?”

“We should perhaps discuss this inside,” answered the surgeon, stepping aside to let them enter. “Has the family been notified?” he asked as they filed in.

“Yes,” answered the Captain of the Guard. “But they live a day’s travel away on the coast.” He turned to face the stallion lying on the bed. A lump rose in his throat.

Spearhead didn’t look as bad as some of the other wounded warriors. That was the perverse part. The shock absorbing enchantments in his armor had taken the brunt of the impact, and Spearhead had always had a hearty constitution, to the point that Shining had always kidded him that he was an earth pony in disguise. He sported many bandages, to be sure, but didn’t have the mummified look that several of the other soldiers had had. But not all injuries were obvious, and the bandages around his scalp were deceptively banal in appearance.

“What’s the damage, doc?” asked Armor.

Cortex adjusted his glasses with a sigh. “Before I answer that, you need to know that brain injuries are rather tricky. Some ponies suffer severe head traumas and make full recoveries. Others suffer what were relatively minor concussions and face debilitating effects for the rest of their lives. I can’t give a definitive answer this early on.”

“Well, what can you tell us?” growled Brick, taking a step forward. Argent put a gentle hoof on his withers, and he dipped his head and backed off.

The doctor didn’t seem to notice. “Spearhead suffered a massive trauma to the left hemisphere of his brain; the part responsible for control motor functions on the right side of his body, as well as his logical mental functions. Math, science, and the like. I think it would have killed a lesser stallion outright. In his case, well, it’s difficult to say. He may face at least partial paralysis on his right side. It is likely that his logic cognition will be inhibited to some degree; possibly minor, possibly severe. He will almost certainly suffer lapses in memory, errors in basic judgment, and absentmindedness. There is a remote possibility that he will make a full recovery but…” he trailed off and looked down at the stallion. “I think it far more likely that he will suffer at least some minor physical limitations, and will almost certainly have a reduced capacity for logic and reasoning. I doubt it will change his core personality but interactions with him will likely be, well, different.”

“Different how?” demanded Argent.

“As I said, it’s difficult to say. He may appear more scatter-brained, lose his train of thought, or lose himself in his musings mid-sentence. Or only some symptoms. Or none of them.” Cortex shook his head. “It’s simply too early to be sure. He will survive; that much is certain. And he will almost certainly be able to function as an adult, albeit with limitations. But, I’m afraid he’ll never be a soldier again.”

The pronouncement hung in the room like the echoing toll of a death knell.

“No.”

The others looked in surprise at Shining Armor.

“No?” asked Cadence.

“No,” repeated Shining Armor. “He’ll always be a soldier. Just a retired one.”

Argent and Brick nodded. Cortex dipped his head in a short bow. “You’re right, of course. A fine soldier indeed.” He checked the monitors one last time before heading for the door. “His vitals are stable. I’ll leave you alone with him.”

“Thank you, doctor,” said Cadence warmly. The soldiers echoed her with some distraction. Dipping his head once more, Cortex departed.

The four regarded their sleeping friend with communal frowns. Eventually, Brick cleared his throat. “Well, that’s all good news, right?” he asked, his voice full of false cheer. “I mean, he’ll be back to being his usual, yappy self in no time, eh? Head in the clouds like always, talking about art?” There was a catch in his voice.

“Brick…” said Shining.

“He’ll be just fine,” said Brick, turning brusquely for the door. “I need to, ah, file an after action report, or something. I gotta go. Catch you ponies later and—

“Brick…” echoed Argent, her voice gentle.

“I’m not ready to see him like this,” grated Brick, his voice finally cracking. His chest heaved once in a mighty shudder, and a wet speck fell on the floor. “I’m just… I’m not…”

The other three exchanged a glance. “No worries, Brick,” said Shining. “Might as well do that paperwork while it’s fresh, right?”

“Yes, Sergeant, do be sure to have it on my desk tomorrow.”

“And we expect to see you at the wedding,” added Cadence.

Brick swallowed. “Thanks,” he managed before retreating from the room.

Argent sighed after he left. “Always a dark day when Brick runs off to do paperwork of all things.” Her gaze fell to the floor.

Shining rested a hoof on her withers. “Hey, Argie,” he said, his voice light. She looked up and he smiled, indicating Spearhead with a flick of his head. “He’ll be okay, alright?”

She gave him a sad smile. “I know, sir. And I’m grateful for that. Really, I am. I just wish… I just wish.”

“I know,” he nodded. “I know.”

After a moment’s pause, Argent took a deep breath and straightened up, slipping from beneath his grasp. “Well, I should probably be off as well. Somepony ought to meet Spear’s parents at the train station.”

He frowned. “Argie—

“Don’t worry, sir. I’ll get cleaned up and take a nap before I head down. Their train isn't due for another six hours anyway. Maybe I’ll collect Brick after his paperwork is done and I've rested. Will you be meeting us down there?”

Shining gave a crooked smile. “Count on it.”

Argent nodded. She bowed to Cadence, saluted Armor, and cast one last, long look at Spearhead before departing.

Now alone, Shining and Cadence stared at their friend for a time. How long they stood, Shining couldn’t tell, but it startled him when his fiancé broke the silence. “It wasn’t your fault,” she said.

He blinked. “What?”

“I know you too well, Shining Armor,” she continued, turning her gaze to face him. “I know you’re blaming yourself for what happened. So I’m telling you: don’t. Chrysalis fooled everypony. She fooled me, she fooled Celestia, in a way she even fooled Twilight. But we won Shining,” she declared, resting a hoof against his cheek. “We won, nopony died today, and that’s thanks to you.”

Shining brought a hoof up to cover hers. “It’s thanks to us.”

She smiled. “All the same, you did everything you could. You saved hundreds of lives, including his. Now, I didn’t know him as well as you, but I know he wouldn’t blame you for what happened.” He indicated Spearhead with a tilt of her head. “He chose to be a hero today. Let him have that; don’t take that away from him by blaming yourself.”

Smiling, he gave his bride-to-be a kiss. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“Whatever it was, I’m glad you did it,” she replied with a smile. A smile that quickly turned into a yawn.

“I ought to get you home. You’ve been on your hooves too long.”

Cadence looked like she was about to object, then nodded when she realized that if he was escorting her home then it probably meant that he’d be turning in soon as well. “Do you want a minute alone?” she asked.

“You really do know me too well.” Cadence nodded in understanding. Before she left, she went over to Spearhead’s bedside and gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead.

Once he was alone, he walked to his soldier. Spearhead really did look to be resting peacefully. It could have been worse, Shining Armor reminded himself. “Well,” he began with a sigh, “you always did want to be an artist.” Reaching into his uniform tunic, he pulled out a medal and a sheet of paper stamped with a Royal seal and set both down on the side-table, the medal resting on top like a paperweight. “When you’re out of here, this’ll be here for you.” He snapped a salute. “I expect an invite to your gallery someday, buddy.” And with that, he departed, leaving behind a promissory note from Celestia to enroll Spearhead in the Canterlot School of Fine Arts, held down with the Equestrian Star of Valor.

Author's Note

And finally, dear readers, we reach the end. In all honesty, I have not had time lately to do any serious editing, so please point out my grammatical mistakes.

I'm still not entirely sure why I chose to write this. I guess Spearhead just struck a chord with me. I hope you enjoyed this fic. What I enjoyed most what the character behind Argent, quite frankly. She might make an appearance in one of my other stories. Who knows?

This story is dedicated to all who serve and protect us, in particular to those who are wounded in the line of duty. May God bless them all.

Legitimate Concerns

The South Plaza Steps, a broad marble staircase that was the first of many leading up to the citadel, made for a good vantage point from which to observe the city. The squad of guards, general infantry from the palace garrison judging by their white and grey coats, a uniformity imposed courtesy of the glamor enchantments in their armor. Spearhead shuddered at the thought. Tactically, he appreciated the value of presenting an unbroken wall of gold, white, and grey to the enemy; intimidation was a factor never to be overlooked. But still… for an artist to look just like every other pony, like just one more cog in the Equestrian war machine…

His mind picked at the thought the way a food critic might analyze a morsel before ingesting it.

Cog in the war machine … small steam engine … forged from armor melted down … there’s plenty of old kit slated for scrap …

“Hey, Brick, I think I just thought of my next sculpture.”

“Bully for you,” groused Brick.

“What’s eating you? Our buddy’s getting married! You gotta be happy, bro!”

The earth pony shot him an irritated glance. “Well, I’m not. Alright? I’m not happy. And do you know why?”

“Naw, bro. I may be a sculptor, but even I can’t read minds.”

He enjoyed the look of confusion that flashed on Brick’s face. “What do those two things even have to do with each—,” Brick waved him off and resumed his forward gaze. “No. You know what? Never mind. I don’t want to know.” He sulked in silence.

Spearhead leaned over and nudged him with the butt of his polearm. “Come on, Brick. What’s wrong?”

“Don’t wanna talk about it.”

The lieutenant cocked an eyebrow. “I could make it an order, you know.”

Brick snorted. “Yeah, but you wouldn’t, Spear. You don’t pull rank like that.” His expression became thoughtful. “Now Argent, she’d do it. But you wouldn’t.”

“You’re right, bro,” agreed Spearhead, sighing expressively. “You got me. I wouldn’t pull rank on you for that. I suppose if you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to.” Then he waited. 3…2…1…

“We should be up there with him.”

Bingo. “Why, bro? You worried you’ll miss the wedding cake?”

Brick glared. “No I don’t care about the … okay, yes, I’ll be peeved if we miss out on the cake, it’s supposed to be amazing, but— that’s not the point, okay!” He pointed a hoof up to the distant citadel. “Our boy’s up there getting hitched, along with Princess Celestia, Princess Mi Amorawhatsit Credenza—

“Princess Mi Amore Cadenza,” corrected Spearhead.

“Yes her!” snarled Brick. “Shining, Celestia, and Cadence, and they’re up there with half the nobility and the Element Bearers. Oh, and Princess Luna would be there too, if she hadn’t been called out to an emergency summit with the buffalo tribes in Appaloosa this very morning! Which would be bad enough on its own, but that’s not even the worst of it, is it, Spearhead? Do you know what the worst of it is?”

“Why do you ask a rhetorical question if you’re just going to—

“No, the real worst of it, Spearhead,” ranted Brick, unabated, “is the garrison itself.”

Spearhead frowned. “Look, if you’re worried that Princess Luna took the Lunar Guard with her, it’s not like she left us high and dry. We have almost the full Regiment here: most every Company in the area got recalled. The Able Company’s a veteran unit, bro. Lots of REF retirees and old border guards in ‘er. Then there’s Bravo, Charlie, and Echo, all billeted here, and Dog and Foxtrot only a few hours march away.”

“Oh, sure, Able Company is a veteran unit,” snarked Brick. “With lots of REF retirees and old border guards. Able is a half a retirement post and everypony knows it. The other half has some younger blood, but a good chunk of them have never seen combat. Meanwhile the other three Companies are all fresh Academy grads, greenhorn spear-jockeys, and screw-ups who got assigned here so Shining Armor could keep an eye on ‘em.” He gestured to the passing squad. “I mean, look at those whitejobs down there! Their armor is so new I can practically see myself in it from here! They wouldn’t last ten minutes in minotaur territory! Sure, Shining Armor has plenty of veterans scattered through the ranks to keep the newbies in line, but plenty of them haven’t been to the line in almost a decade. Face it, Spearhead, our platoon is the only unit in the garrison that’s seen action in the last five years. That’s eighty ponies. eighty ponies in a garrison of six-hundred-twenty!” He tapped the head of his maul against the cobblestones, causing a small crack to appear. “And we’re down here, spread out across the city, nowhere near the citadel proper.” He opened his mouth as though to rant more, then sighed and let his shoulders slump. “I don’t know. It just feels wrong, you know? Like we’re just waiting for something to happen?”

Spearhead sighed. Much as he wanted to, there wasn’t a lot that he could do to refute his old comrade. The First Royal Infantry Regiment was an old unit, a unit so old, in fact, that the Colonel who commanded it was still referred to by the archaic designation of ‘Captain of the Royal Guard.’ It had a long and prestigious battle record dating back to the early years after Luna’s banishment, when rival kingdoms had seen Celestia’s transition to being the sole ruler of Equestria as a sign of weakness. However, as the years had gone on the First Royal Infantry had shifted to an increasingly defensive role as the more dangerous fighting on the borders was increasingly left to more specialized units like the Rangers and the Royal Expeditionary Force. The First became a posting to train fresh recruits and for older soldiers to ease into retirement while passing on their experience to the next generation. Their role came to be more about security than about warfighting as ‘whitejob’ recruits got their hooves wet and veteran ‘meat cans’ got a break from the borders. Generally, no more than two Companies were assigned to the city at any given time, while the others were scattered through the nearby garrisons running training exercises in preparation for being sent to the borders. Given their proximity to the capitol, it made sense for Shining Armor to recall most of the Regiment to its defense when the threat was made against Canterlot. It was just bad luck that, at the moment, the First Royal Infantry had few veterans assigned to it who weren’t approaching retirement age. And, with tensions between the Kingdoms of Griffonshore and Saddle Arabia at an all-time high and an outbreak of retaliatory violence looming in Kudanda, Celestia couldn’t well afford to recall many troops from the borders.

Which meant that Shining Armor simply had to work with what was on hoof. He’s lucky we were running wilderness training with Bravo and Charlie when the call went out. He tapped a forehoof against the cobblestones. Still, no point in dwelling on what we don’t have. “I’m sure Shining Armor knows what he’s doing, Brick. Dude made Colonel at his age for a reason. And Celestia wouldn’t have let Luna head to Appaloosa if she didn’t think she had it handled here.”

“I still don’t like it,” groused Brick. “I mean, why don’t we have more combat vets here, anyway? It’s the capitol for Celestia’s sake.”

“Exactly, dude. For Celestia’s sake. We’ve all heard the stories of what she did to the last guy that tried to raid Canterlot.”

Brick managed to chuckle at that. “I heard she mounted that dragon’s head on her bedroom wall after she sent his army packing.”

Spearhead snorted. “Naw, bro. The Sun Princess don’t roll that way.”

“She did kill him, though.”

“Yeah. She killed a full-sized dragon alone. And we’ve got most of the Regiment, and the Elements, and two alicorns, and the boss.” He shoved his fellow guard with a wing. “So stop worrying already, bro.”

“Indeed,” cut in Argent, stepping up behind them, her Trottingham accent pronounced as she joined her friends. “Worrying is my job, after all.”

Spearhead suppressed a deep sigh at that. Uh oh. Argent’s letting her accent show. “Alright, Argie, what’s wrong?”

Argent cocked an eyebrow. “And why must something be wrong?”

“Because you’re letting your accent out to play,” snarked Brick.

The mare huffed. “I fail to see what you mean by that.”

“He means that after years of associating with the broad menagerie of ponies found in the great melting pot that is the Equestrian Armed Forces, your Trottingham attitude has mellowed. Between that and us getting used to it, we almost don't notice anymore,” explained Spearhead.

“Except when you’re torqued,” added Brick.

The captain rolled her eyes. “You two ruffians have no respect for rank.”

“And your ladyship is dodging the question. What’s up?”

Argent sighed, absentmindedly adjusting her combat harness with a tug of magic. “Does anypony else think that Cadence is acting a little…suspicious?”

Brick rested a hoof over his eyes. “Here we go again,” he muttered.

“Suspicious? Suspicious like how?” asked Spearhead.

She pursed her lips before replying. “Insisting on being called by her title, getting short with everypony, getting on my back about security, keeping guards away from the chapel because, and I quote, ‘their armor clashes with the floral arrangements.’ Well excuse me for trying to prevent your assassination!” The captain heaved an angry snort.

Spearhead chewed his inner cheek, pondering Argent’s words. Brick just chuckled. “Seriously, Argent? Is that it? Come on! You said it yourself: she’s just being a nag because it’s her wedding and she’s cranky and stressed. Celestia knows you get that way sometimes.”

The look Argent gave him would have killed a lesser stallion. “Sergeant Brick, pray keep your mouth shut on matters about which you know nothing. You barely know Cadence save through Shining Armor’s descriptions of her. Spear and I actually knew her from our academy days.” She shifted her steely gaze to the pegasus. “And no doubt he’ll agree with me that she’s not behaving like herself.”

Shifting uncomfortably, Spearhead tried to avoid making eye contact. “Brick kinda has a point, Argie. Wedding’s are stressful. I mean, you want to see a real nag, you shouldda seen my sister-in-law the week of her wedding. She’s super chill most of the time, but that week I thought she was gonna spit fire and start hording gold.”

Argent growled. “You stallions are all the same. Can’t see what’s right bloody well in front of your muzzle! Do you remember Twilight Sparkle?”

Brick rolled his eyes. “Do we remember the chief Element Bearer, Celestia’s prized pupil, and Shining’s precious baby sister? Um, yeah, Cap. I think we remember her.”

“Well, did you know that Shining Armor dismissed her from the wedding party?”

That got the stallions’ attention. “What?!” exclaimed Brick. “Why?”

“Yeah!” added Spearhead. “Shining adores his little sister! Those two go together like paint and canvas! He’d never kick her out of his big day!”

“Well, he did. Apparently Twilight got into a row with Shining and Cadence last night. Accused Cadence of mind-control or something. The princess left in tears, and our fearless leader dismissed Miss Sparkle on the spot.”

Brick shook his head. “I can’t say I blame him. Talk about being over-possessive.”

“That’s just it!” hissed Argent. “I don’t think that’s what happened!”

“How do you mean?”

Argent adjusted her harness again. “Something about this whole business just feels off. What if Twilight really did see something? What if something is amiss with Cadence? A curse or magical affliction of some sort? We’ve seen stranger things beyond the borders. Celestia helped General Zipporah crack down on the forbidden practice of hypnosis in Zebrica recently. Maybe they’ve done something to Cadence. We don’t fully understand how their magic works, especially not hypnosis, and it would account for her odd behavior.” She sighed. “I don’t know. Twilight always struck me as having a solid head on hers shoulders, not given to wild accusations. Call it mare’s intuition, but I fear that Twilight wasn’t as far off the mark as we’d like her to be.”

The trio was silent for a time as each digested the other’s words. Spearhead wanted to assure the others that their fears were unfounded. It was what was expected of him, in many ways. He never blew his stack, never lost his characteristic chill. But what if they’re right. Cadence has been acting odd. So has Shining, come to think of it. He’s never struggled to keep a shield like this up before; not with so much ambient magic from the city to channel into it. And he’s been forgetting things too…

“Well, dude and dudette, look on the bright side,” he said aloud, as much to distract himself as anything else. “You couldn’t ask for a nicer day. I mean, just look at Celestia’s sun.” He thought about how that statement might be taken. “Er, well, not directly at it; you might burn your eyes out like my cousin Coconut, but…”The others snickered and he smiled in spite of his embarrassment because he’d succeeded in making them laugh.

Argent gave a dry smile. “I suppose you’re right, Spear. It is a rather beautiful day for a wedding. Scarcely a cloud in the sky.” She glanced up as a shadow passed overhead. “Though there are an awful lot of birds.”

Spearhead looked up, thinking to identify the species. Growing up as a pegasus on the coast, he’d gained an early appreciation for different kinds of avian life, and was curious what sort might have taken to the skies in such numbers.

He saw, and frowned.

“Oh, cripes, now Spearhead’s frowning!” exclaimed Brick. “What’s wrong now?”

“Chill, bro,” replied the stallion with an assurance that he didn’t feel. “It’s just not normal for that many birds to be flying this time of year…to the point that they’re almost blotting out the sky…and not flying like birds are supposed to.”

The three soldiers stared at the massing avians. Argent cleared her throat. “This might seem to be a rather insane theory, chaps, but, well, what if the birds are the threat to Canterlot?”

“I’m having flashbacks to that Hitchcart moving picture,” said Brick uneasily.

Spearhead snorted. “I’m gonna fly up for a closer look at—

Whatever else he might have said was cut off by the cries of alarm and the flash of sickly green light from the direction of the chapel. A flash that was echoed thousands of times over by the ‘birds’ that now hovered over the shield. That now ‘swarmed’ over the shield, corrected Spearhead’s subconscious helpfully.

Ever eloquent, Argent put word to what they all were doubtless thinking.

“Well... horseapples.”

Author's Note

Next time: the Battle for Canterlot!

Sorry this one took so long to write. Christmas season rather puts the kibosh on any attempts at having a definitive schedule.

One reason for the delay was trying to figure out how I would use rank structure and unit size in this world. The problem is that the Equestrian military has such an odd blend of archaic, modern, and industrial age features that making a composite proved difficult. No one system fit it exactly. Originally I had Argent as a Lieutenant because Shining Armor is, on the face of it, simply a Captain. However, 'Captain of the Guard' is an archaic rank. Modern security forces that maintain the title sometimes have a Major or Colonel in that position. Given that Equestria has such ranks for other units (e.g. their Air Corps) in the canon of the show, it seemed plausible that that was the case here. I'll be adjusting Argent's rank accordingly in the previous chapter. The breakdown of the Regiment into Companies and approximate unit size is taken largely from Civil War unit sizes, with hints of modern detail and scaled down for the smaller population sizes of kingdoms in the Medieval period. Or, to put it more simply, I shoved some actual data in a blender with some headcanon and poured it on the page.

Which is all a long way of saying this chapter was delayed in large part because the historian in me balked at the lack of precision and spent a lot of time cursing the confusing hybrid of Equestria that left me in such a quandary. #Antiquarianproblems.

Anyway, hope you enjoy. Comment below with feedback so that it can be improved; I didn't have a lot of time to edit this, so apologies ahead of time for mistakes.