It was a cool March evening, and it was perfect for a party.
Canterlot’s weather mages, at the behest of the public, had provided a clear cloudless evening, allowing the moon and stars to bear witness to the gathering below. A light wind wound its way through the mansion’s garden filled to the brim with ponies dressed in their finest. Nobles, politicians and other personages mingled about under the golden glow of enchanted fae lights that hovered above in a slow dance. A trio of musicians, performing under a gazebo, weaved music that blended with the sounds of laughter, conversation and the clink of glasses.
Fleur de Lis, tapping her chin with a well manicured hoof, pondered the selection of refreshments tastefully arranged for her consideration.
“Hmm… They all look so tempting,” she mused, her lips curling into a small smile. She wasn’t even trying to work anyone up, but the servers, a stallion and mare, were flustered nonetheless by her presence. It wasn’t everyday that an incredibly gorgeous unicorn graced them with her presence.
“M-May I suggest this vintage, ma’am?” said the mare, a tint of red coloring her cheeks. She levitated a glass from her platter, the light catching the shining cobalt liquor. “It’s lightly spiced, with just a tiny hint of canis root for a spicy tang of mana.”
Fleur hummed appreciatively. “An alchemical wine? Is there another?”
“Of c-course,” said the stallion. Of the two, he was having the hardest time maintaining eye contact with Fleur; minute beads of sweat peppered his temples. He levitated a glass of his own, this one filled with sparkling amber elixir. “This blend has been aged for eight years and has a dash of taproot nectar. For a much smoother flavor, you see.”
Fleur stopped short of giggling. Though she felt a small pang of guilt, it was a delight to watch these two try to maintain their composure. “Ah, but they look so fine!” she sighed. “It is too hard to decide. I will have both.”
She sparked her horn and gently took both glasses. “Merci beaucoup!” she sing-songed as she turned, but not too quickly; just slow enough that they could see the shape of her legs and the way her dress hugged the curves of her figure. A little treat on her behalf.
As Fleur left earshot, she heard the mare whisper to her companion, almost imperceptibly: “Sweet mother of Celestia, she is hot...”
Her smile grew wider at that.
The grass was soft under Fleur’s hooves as she weaved through the throng of guests. Mares and stallions smiled and bowed, and all of them became suddenly self-conscious of their manes and attire as she passed, whispering and fussing among themselves, straightening ties, bows and hats.
And who could blame them? While she had no mirror to verify, Fleur was well aware that she and her dress looked particularly enchanting. But she had no time to stop, so Fleur only gave them a cursory greeting as she made a beeline for her companion this evening.
Fancypants, her longtime childhood friend, was near a desserts table, contemplating a selection of fruit tarts. He looked up at Fleur’s approach and he smiled. “Enjoying your adoring fans, I see.”
“Oh, I can’t help it, Fancy,” breathed Fleur, with mock remorse. “My gift, it is a curse in disguise. I simply cannot turn it off.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
Fleur’s eyes twinkled in amusement. “Yes,” she answered as she floated up one of her glasses. “Would you like to taste?”
“Alchemical wine? My goodness, I simply must try!”
Taking the glass, Fancypants paused to savor the scent, and took an experimental sip. As he did so, a soft glow enveloped his horn; the alchemical ingredients adding their buzz to the flavor. “Mmm. Spicy. Canis root, I believe. A fine selection from our host.”
As if on cue, a booming laugh drew their attention to the center of the garden, where an elaborate fountain stood. Near it, entertaining a gaggle of ponies, was a massive unicorn stallion with a stormy gray coat and a wavy silver mane and goatee. His Cutie Mark was a sword and shield. With his immaculate attire and tank-like frame, he was easily the most prominent pony in the garden.
Fleur smiled wryly. “Yes, it seems Duke Gallant Justice is pulling out all the stops for me.”
When Fancypants gave her a questioning look, she explained, “He has been trying to court me for some time. And quite persistently so.”
Fancypants’ eyebrows shot up. “Really now? I wouldn’t have guessed!”
Fleur chuckled softly. “He’s been ‘coincidentally’ bumping into me at every event, to say nothing of the fine wines and invitations at my doorstep. And don’t even get me started on how many times he’s mentioned his years in the service, or his clout in Parliament.”
Fancypants nodded, swirling his wine. “Yes, I remember now, he was a Royal Guard before political life. A family tradition, going back generations. A real point of pride for him.” He chuckled. “That’s probably why there’s a Royal Guard detail marching about. They help to remind ponies of his career, you see.”
Fleur cast her gaze around the garden and found them: mares and stallions in full Royal Guard barding, the fae lights’ warm glow reflected on the sheen of their armor plates. They patrolled either in pairs or by their lonesome, and a few stood guard at certain points, with steely gazes sweeping the area like searchlights. They were discreet enough to stay in the background, but just visible enough to ensure their presence was not so easily missed.
Fleur hummed softly, eyebrow raised. “Is he actually allowed to have soldiers hanging around a garden party?” she wondered. “Surely they have more important duties elsewhere?”
“The Guard rotates soldiers to protect certain political figures,” explained Fancypants. “And with all the other bigwigs he’s invited tonight, that protection has increased five-fold. It certainly helps that we’re in peacetime; they wouldn’t be able to spare the soldiers otherwise.”
“Interesting,” said Fleur. “I see you’ve developed an enthusiasm for military history.”
“Why, yes indeed! Currently, I’m on The Life and Traditions of the Guard by Argent Bulwark. Quite an interesting read, if I may say so.”
“Hmm… Maybe I’ll take a look when I have more time, or when Gallant Justice isn’t trying to ambush me with gifts.” Fleur sighed ruefully. “I wish he wouldn’t pursue me so, but he is persistent and simply refuses to take ‘no’ for an answer. Granted, he has the looks and physique, and he’s exceptionally fit... But he’s far too…”
Fancypants chortled. “Too loud? Too showy? Too overwhelming?”
“Oui, exactement!” said Fleur, giggling. “Not to mention far too old for my liking.”
“If that’s the case, I’m surprised you’re here. This is his soirée after all.”
“Ah, but I have an image to maintain! Such is the price of being a socialite. You know how rude it would be to refuse an invitation. Not to mention the stir it would cause! I can’t even begin to tell you how unpleasant the rumors would be. But worry not!-” Fleur winked playfully “-I know exactly how to keep Gallant at foreleg’s length.”
“Oh, I dearly hope so. He’s coming this way.”
Fleur went stiff, smile dropping. She turned around and sure enough, Duke Gallant Justice was on approach.
His sheer size was obvious from a distance, but up close, he was far more imposing. Despite walking at a slow pace, he still moved like a battering ram, ponies politely standing aside to make way. His hooves were like concrete slabs; each one looked strong enough to crush rocks with a single stomp. His horn was sharpened to such a deadly pointed barb, that one would be forgiven for assuming he disregarded spell-casting altogether and simply skewered his opponents with it.
“My dear Fleur de Lis,” he greeted, his voice rumbling like a thunderclap. With icy blue eyes locked onto hers, he gently took Fleur’s hoof in his own and kissed it softly. His lips were warm, uncomfortably so. “I’m very much glad you could make it. I trust you’re enjoying yourself?”
Fleur smiled politely, the very picture of serenity as she gently withdrew her hoof.
Inwardly, however, she wanted to groan.
“You are a most gracious host Gallant. You’ve clearly spared no expense.”
Gallant chuckled. “Anything less would be criminal, my dear. No point in throwing a party if you can’t go all out and have only the very best.” The Duke leaned in towards Fleur slightly, his eyes half lidded, his voice dropping an octave. “And I will only have the very best for the very finest…”
“Oh. Yes. Obviously,” said Fleur, as she gave Fancypants a pointed look of ‘see what I mean?’
Fancypants smiled and nodded. “Indeed,” he said. “Why, I dare say you’ve outdone yourself, Gallant. This is easily the best time I’ve had all month! And the refreshments! You simply must tell me more about this wine, for example…”
It was a spirited attempt at a distraction, but it was no good. Gallant only spared him a quick smile. “Yes, yes, I’m sure,” he said, before turning back to Fleur. “I was just speaking with a colleague of mine and I was pleasantly surprised to hear you have an interest in paintings. I hadn’t taken you for a connoisseur of art.”
“Well, I dabble from time to time…,” said Fleur, calmly.
Inwardly, her mind was racing: Quick! How do I shake him off without being unseemly?
“Ah, don’t be so modest,” chuckled Gallant. “Your taste and opinion is just as valuable as any professional critic. That said, while we’re on the subject of paintings… I have a collection in my home I think you’d be quite interested in. I would be delighted to have your appraisal before the party draws to a close.”
Trying to get me all to yourself, are you?
“Oh, that’s wonderful of you, Gallant,” said Fleur. “But I’ll just get in the way of your staff. And they’re working so hard already.”
“Ah, worry not, my dear,” laughed Gallant. He leaned in again, his voice even lower than before. “I assure you… there will be no interruptions for the two of us…”
Well, it had been a weak excuse, but it was worth a try. Fleur, resisting the urge to sigh, passed her glass to Fancypants. “Well, in that case… Ouvrir la marche!”
Gallant grinned. “Marvelous," he said, as he took Fleur’s hoof and led her through the sea of guests.
Fleur caught the concern in Fancypants’ eyes, and she mouthed a quick ‘don’t worry’, as they swept past.
Alright then, new plan. Time to do as the showmare does and ‘wing it’.
The service wing of the Duke’s estate was eerily empty.
With the staff attending to guests outside, many of its rooms were shrouded in black. Outlines, clear and distinct in daylight, were broken up and reduced to amorphous shapes and shadows. The darkness, cloying and oppressive, seemed to press in close from all directions, like a vise. Any pony caught in it would be scrambling for an exit or a light.
None of it bothered Midnight Clad of the Night Guard, loyal servant and sworn protector to Her Radiant Highness, Princess Luna Nox Invictus.
With a calm, measured pace, she strode down the hallway, every step silent as a whisper. She could see perfectly, her eyes piercing the gloom like a knife, despite the narrow eye-slits of her chamfron. Moonlight, that ever present sign of Princess Luna’s favor, was a welcome brightness rather than a dim glow, and she could even perceive distinct colors where a pony would have only seen shades of blue and gray. With such keen night vision, darkness couldn’t even register as a minor inconvenience.
Her assigned path took her through a good portion of the service wing, covering at least half the area. Along her route, paintings hung on the walls, illuminated by shafts of moonlight. They varied in size, style and color but were uniform in their subject matter. All of them depicted the ponies of the Royal Guard in full regalia, either in training, parade rest or battle.
Midnight wasn’t counting but she estimated there were at least fifty such paintings in this corridor alone. Add the other rooms in the service wing and the corridors she’d already patrolled, and it brought the number close to two hundred.
It seemed Duke Gallant Justice, for whatever reason, wanted reminders of his military career even in the nondescript service wing.
The sound of hoof-steps drifted down the hall, and Midnight’s tufted ears automatically swiveled in their direction. It was the steps of a fellow Night Guard. She could tell because they were near silent, only audible to Midnight’s hearing. A regular pony, even with training, would have heard next to nothing.
Swift Sword rounded the corner, her barding shining as she passed the windows. Her chamfron, contrary to regulation, was removed and hung from her side, revealing her wine-red mane, charcoal gray coat and brilliant green eyes.
“Midnight,” she greeted, with her usual smile. “How’re you holding up?”
Midnight nodded to her, drawing to a halt. “Mm-hmm,” was her customary response.
“Anything interesting?”
Midnight shook her head. “Nothing to report,” she said, her voice slightly muffled by her chamfron.
Swift sighed. “Well, that sucks… I was hoping something fun would actually happen around here…”
Midnight frowned at that. As far as she was concerned, the whole point of guard duty was to make sure nothing ‘fun’ happened in the first place. Then again, given how uneventful guard duty usually was…
“Keen Edge and Sharp Razor were bored out of their skulls,” said Swift. “Tried to challenge me to a staring contest. They lost of course; didn’t even last ten seconds. They owe me a beer now.”
Midnight tilted her head. “So that brings the sum total up to… How many?” she queried.
“About forty beers-” Swift gave a loud yawn, her fangs extending and retracting with a soft ‘snikt!’ “- plus the twenty bits they owe me. Those two never learn.”
Midnight nodded. That the Twins had lost yet another bet was one of the immutable constants of the universe. The only reason she’d never taken advantage of their hard luck was her own self-imposed moratorium on gambling.
Swift rolled her shoulders and sat down with a sigh. Midnight followed suit, and a companionable silence settled as both soldiers took a short break from duty.
Outside the mullioned windows, Midnight saw the sky with its blanket of stars. They winked and formed whirling shapes against the dark; graceful patterns that threatened to tug Midnight’s lips into a smile. The moon gazed down at her warmly, as if Princess Luna herself was watching, and she felt her heart warm at the sight. The night sky was always pleasant, but tonight was one of those nights when Her Radiant Highness managed to make it exceptionally lovely. It was on nights like these that Midnight could put herself at ease and simply gaze up and think of nothing.
A golden fae light, separated from its fellows in the garden, drifted by. Midnight tracked its slow, bobbing progress, until one of the serving staff, a pegasus, flew up and gently nudged it back towards the gathering.
Swift sighed. “Quite the fancy party out there, huh?”
Midnight perked her ears. She caught the faint violin music drifting from the garden, and nodded in agreement. “Mm-hmm.”
“Say what you want about Gallant Justice, but that stallion’s got taste. What do you think the shindig’s for?”
Midnight shrugged. “Canterlot ponies are always having parties,” she said. “Ours not to reason why.”
“Yeah, I guess so… Still, it’s really nice out there… Almost wish we were on patrol outside instead of pulling crap duty in here…”
Midnight knitted her brows. That wish wouldn’t come true, and they both knew it. As dull as guard duty was, walking around in full view of everyone outside would hardly make things better. It would mean straying outside the bounds set centuries ago, before Midnight had even been born. A separation enforced for the common good, a sacrosanct division not meant to be crossed for any reason whatsoever. If Midnight even entertained the thought of stepping out there, disciplinary action would be the least of her worries.
No, best to remain at their post. ‘Out of Sight and Out of Mind’, just like how the ponies and Royal Guard liked it.
“Ah well, a mare can dream,” sighed Swift. “Anyway… Guess who’s the lucky lady spending weekend pass with me?”
Midnight though for a second. “Is it the mare from third platoon you spoke of? I don’t recall her name.”
“That’s her. She’s called Velvet Breeze. And I think she’s 'The One' this time. I just know it.”
Midnight raised a brow: that was what Swift had said the other five times. “Is that so?”
“Yep. I’m feelin’ good about this date.” Swift waggled her eyebrows mischievously. “What about you? Got any plans of your own?”
Midnight glanced at Swift and shrugged. “Nothing of note. Just catching up on some reading.”
Swift’s smile wilted. “That… That’s it?”
Midnight frowned. “…Yes. Is there a problem?”
“Midnight, do you have any idea what you’re missing out on?”
“I’m sorry?”
“That’s another weekend cooped up with your nose in the books. And when you’re not reading, you’re either pulling whatever weekend duty Cold Steel assigns, or you’re training in the sparring ring.”
Midnight felt a twinge of irritation. “Yes, that is what I do on weekends. What is the point you’re trying to make?”
“The point I’m trying to make, is that weekend pass is supposed to be for R&R.”
Midnight’s frown turned into a sharp look, though it was obscured by her chamfron. She knew what Swift was talking about now. They’d had this discussion countless times, and it never ceased to be wearisome.
“I’m quite happy with what I do in my free time, Swift,” said Midnight, slowly and clearly.
“I’m not trying to butt in, I swear,” said Swift. “I’m just saying you should get out some more. Give dating a chance. You never know, it could start something special.”
Not this again…
“Sorry to disappoint, but I prefer to keep my weekend passes as productive as possible," said Midnight. "I may tolerate your penchant for chasing mares and stallions, but that doesn’t mean I want to take part either.”
“C’mon, don’t be like that. You’re a pretty good looking mare, you wouldn’t have any trouble snagging someone.” She nudged Midnight with her wing. “Hey, if it’s an issue with confidence, then I got you covered. There’s a couple of stallions I heard about that signed on a week ago. Rookies. Cute ones. If you want, I can set you up…”
Midnight ground her teeth. “Please. Do not.”
Swift blinked at her. “Oh. So it’s mares then? Not what I expected from you, but okay. I heard there’s a bunch of pretty ones in fourth platoon, and a reliable source tells me they’re available. Want me to try them?”
Midnight had had enough. She stood abruptly and her wings unfurled to their full length with a loud snap.
“Shasla,” she said, firmly. “Nen-kash vuya sor seth.” *
It was a threat display and it was effective enough for Swift to draw back, hooves held up placatingly. “Alright, alright! No need to whip out the Classical like that, I can take a hint! Sheesh…”
‘Classical’ wasn’t even the proper name for the language, but Midnight let the error slide.
“I have no need for a stallion or mare, nor do I have a need to prance about like an imbecile every chance I get. The only thing I'm concerned with is my duties as a Night Guard, and the sooner you realize that, the sooner you can stop pestering me like a foal and leave me to do my job.”
Midnight’s wings snapped closed as she turned around. “We’re on duty. Resume patrol.”
She’d scarcely taken four steps when a sigh from Swift gave her pause. “Just sayin’,” she said. “Nothing wrong with having some fun once in a while…”
Midnight scowled under her chamfron. “Resume patrol,” she repeated.
And with that, she marched off down her assigned route, with not even a glance behind.
Dating... What is she thinking? As if I need anything else to supplement my time...
Midnight didn’t snort, but she came very close to doing so. Joining the Night Guard was the culmination of years of hard work and commitment, right from the moment her Cutie Mark had manifested.
She’d read the Codex Nox cover to cover as a filly. She’d trained her body and mind to near breaking point. She’d pledged her oath and loyalty on pain of disgrace and dishonor. And now she was here, serving Princess Luna, determined to one day guard Her Radiant Highness herself.
What use do I have for frivolity when I already have my service and my oaths?
A soft glow drew her attention to the windows once more. Another fae light had strayed from the party. Midnight slowed and watched it amble on, her ears flicking as she once again picked up the sound of violins and harpsichords drifting from the gathering outside.
Once more, a pegasus flew by, ready to redirect the fae light back to the garden. Except it wasn’t one of the staff, but a Royal Guard. She’d deviated slightly from her patrol pattern, and Midnight watched as she nudged the fae light with a playful flourish, before swiftly resuming her route, wings spread wide as she arced away.
A sudden melancholy stole over Midnight. Her own wings twitched slightly as she tracked the Guard’s path, and for a brief moment, she imagined herself in that soldier’s place, keen eyes vigilant for anything that might cast a pall over Her Radiant Highness’ night.
It would definitely be an improvement over meaningless guard duty.
Midnight shook her head. She couldn’t afford to be distracted. As dull and menial as guard duty was, it was still duty, and she had to carry it out to her fullest.
And if that meant remaining ‘Out of Sight and Out of Mind’ as everyone wanted them to be, then so be it.
Author's Note
* ‘Shasla. Nen-kash vuya sor seth.’ - ‘Enough. Speak not more of this,’ or, ‘Enough. Do not talk more of this.”
- ‘shasla’- ‘enough’. Somewhat derived from the word ‘shesa’, meaning ‘stop’ or ‘cease’.
- ‘nen’- ‘no’. When used in front of a word, it becomes ‘not’. For example, ‘nen-kash’ means ‘speak not’, or ‘do not speak’.
- ‘kash’- ‘talk’, ‘speak’.
- ‘vuya’- ‘more’. Used in the same manner as in English/ Equish.
- ‘sor’- ‘of’. Used in the same manner as in English/ Equish.
- ‘seth’- ‘this’. Indicates a person, thing, idea, time, event, etc. Used in the same manner as in English/ Equish.
The plural is ‘seth’la’, meaning ‘these’.
* ‘sath’- ‘that’. The plural is ‘sath’la’, meaning ‘those’.
