“Stand up straight, green-hoof! Shoulders back! Chin up! Hooves apart! An earthpony like yourself should be stout as steel, not flimsy like trash!”
Belltoll obeyed each order immediately as it was given, shifting his hooves into place and thrusting his chest out. “Yes, Sergeant Eyepatch, sir!”
Eyepatch nodded sternly and glared with his remaining good eye, the other was covered by a black patch.
Belltoll wondered if Eyepatch was even his real name, and he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to ask. It was hard to tell the old sergeant’s mood. His expression was one of ceaseless scowling, and Belltoll could never guess if he was angry, disturbed, or perhaps very hungry.
Belltoll adjusted his armor for the twentieth time that evening. It was unbelievable that he was finally wearing the official gear of the Royal Guard. Excitement bubbled in his chest and his limbs were jittery. He almost felt like he had wings to fly, or a horn to cast.
“Wipe that stupid grin off your face,” Eyepatch grumbled.
Angry it was, then.
The sergeant’s face looked sour enough to make a lemon pucker and his voice was like gravel under a millstone. “You may be excited you’ll be spending your first shift as a royal guard in the palace proper on the night of the Grand Galloping Gala, but I can tell you I’m not happy to see you. All my good ponies got dragged off to Nordanver, and now I’m stuck working with a pack of green-hooves like you.”
He spat to the side. “You’re all fresh as daisies with rushed training. We’ve never been forced to staff this many new recruits at the Royal Palace before. Next thing you know, they’ll be carting you off to the war, too, and then they’ll be sending me foals to babysit. Pah!”
“Er, yes, sir,” Belltoll winced, the mention of Nordanver dismantling his bravado. He glanced down at his hooves which, ironically enough, were green.
To his relief, the irritation seemed to dim in his superior’s eyes. The sergeant sighed, then continued in a milder tone, “You know the drill, green-hoof. This corridor connects the Great Hall to the West Wing, which houses the princesses’ chambers. Don’t let anypony past this hallway without the proper pass. Every year, we get a couple of popinjays who think a Gala ticket can get them anywhere in this place. Just send them packing right where they came from.”
Belltoll looked back up and saluted with renewed vigor. “That I will, sir. You can count on me! I swear by Princess Celestia’s mercy, I’ll guard this corridor with my very life, just you watch!”
Eyepatch narrowed his eye, clearly unimpressed. Then he shambled off, muttering, “I’m not going to sit here and watch you work, green-hoof. Just guard the stupid hallway.”
Perhaps it was just a hallway and perhaps Belltoll was just a ‘green-hoof’ as the sergeant liked to call them, but this was his first assignment and it was going to be an indisputable success!
Belltoll stood rigid, his muscles clenched so as not to allow an inch of movement. His jaw was set, his eyes locked forward, and his ears pointed high, alert for any unusual noises. He glared at the wall opposite himself, eyeing the ornate décor bordering each window and column with suspicion. The dark corridor offered plenty of places to hide, but Belltoll was not about to let anything creep past him, no sir.
Minutes passed. The urbane sounds of the gala orchestra drifted in from the tall windows behind him and warm lights danced along the far wall teasing his rigid gaze. Occasionally, Belltoll’s mind would wander to the Gala he had so often heard about. He imagined beautifully important mares in their massive gowns, impressive tower cakes, and the taste of the land’s finest wine. Then he would scold himself for harboring distracting thoughts and his eyes would refocus on the wall again.
After some time, Belltoll’s body began to ache from its locked position. Was it best for him to be so still? Perhaps he should march back and forth down the hallway to help keep his body limber. Yes, that seemed like the proper thing to do.
He was about to take his first step when a voice came from his side.
“Excuse me, sir?”
Somepony shrieked. Belltoll whirled on the spot and clamped a hoof over his mouth. Shrieking was not a dignified reaction for a palace guard.
Behind him stood a mare, a lilac pegasus in a flowery gown the color of clematis.
She giggled. “I didn’t mean to surprise you, sir.”
Then her gaze shifted past him to the hall beyond. “Is this the way to the West Wing? I’ve heard so much about the princesses’ chambers. They’re supposed to be beautiful beyond description and full of priceless artifacts.”
Her eyes glittered greedily and she made to move forward, but Belltoll intercepted her path.
“I’m afraid you’re not supposed to be here, ma’am,” he said.
The mare looked disappointed. “But I have a Gala ticket. Isn’t that enough to- Oh no!”
The mare fumbled with her satchel and a golden ticket drifted to the ground a few feet away.
She blushed and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, I’m very clumsy.”
“No need to worry, ma’am,” Belltoll said with a friendly smile. He turned and bent down to pick up the ticket.
Then pain erupted at the back of his head and Belltoll crumpled like a sack of turnips.
It had been a trick, he realized too late. What a disgrace! His first day on the job and he’d already been knocked out cold by an intruder. Eyepatch would have his armor, his badge, and his hide. Perhaps his soul, too.
As he fell into the boggy swamp of unconsciousness, Belltoll could hear an echo of his mother’s voice inside his head asking him ruefully, “Why couldn’t you have just stayed home with your books?”
He saw his days as a young colt. His mother had been so hopeful he would become a scholar, or perhaps a librarian like herself. But Belltoll had read too many fantasy books, all of which had filled his innocent mind with rose-tinted dreams of knights battling monsters while protecting fair and powerful princesses.
With every passing year, Belltoll spent less time indoors with his books and more time outside, traversing dangerous forests and clambering through muddy ravines looking for adventure or trouble-- it didn’t really matter which-- until finally he’d crawl back home in time for dinner and a fierce scolding for the dirt in his mane and the blood on his face.
Belltoll never did mind the scoldings or the scrapes earned from his shenanigans because he knew one day he would become a royal house guard, even if none of his friends believed it.
But his mother was never pleased with his ambitions. “You’re too much like your grandfather, Belltoll,” she’d say with sadness in her eyes.
Then his consciousness resurfaced, and he was awake again.
Belltoll moaned. His head hurt like Tartarus.
Standing up, he quickly scanned his surroundings. The palace corridor was once again empty, save for himself. Outside, the Gala continued undisturbed. Then his ears twitched. Over the muffled din, he could just make out the faint rattling of something metallic.
Adjusting his armor, he hastened towards the sound, turning the corner into the next hallway.
The corridor was heavy with shadows, more so than the previous one. Moonlight stenciled window shapes onto the walls and pillars. After a moment of staring, Belltoll noticed movement at the hallway’s midpoint. He marched toward it.
Once close, he could make out the mare hunched in front of a large door, trying to pick the lock.
“I told you, you’re not supposed to be here,” he said sullenly.
The mare gasped and spun around, pressing herself up against the door. Belltoll’s dark face and glinting armor must have looked ghostly in the dark.
Once the mare recognized him, her expression relaxed, although her posture did not. “What are you doing here?” she hissed. “I thought I knocked you out!”
Belltoll rapped a hoof against his helmet.
The mare blinked. “Oh. Should have accounted for that.”
“You’re here to steal from the palace, aren’t you? I’ll have to take you into custody for that,” Belltoll explained.
The mare gave a defeated sigh. “I understand.”
She lifted one hoof disarmingly. The other, Belltoll noticed, was still fumbling with something behind her back.
Before he could stop her, the door swung open, allowing the mare to fall into the room. Belltoll rushed forward to catch her only for the door to slam shut on his snout.
“Ow! Ninnyhammers!”
Belltoll clutched his smarting nose and shook his head to rid the stars from his eyes. With a grunt of frustration, he rammed the door with his shoulder. It bounced open, revealing what looked to be a waiting room. Inside, he saw the mare had discarded her gown to reveal a sleek black suit underneath, the kind he was certain was commonly used for sneaking about royal palaces and knocking out unsuspecting guards.
But what was worse, she was holding a glittering gold candelabrum in her hooves like a filly inspecting her new Hearth’s Warming Eve gift.
“Where did you get that!” Belltoll demanded. “That isn’t yours. It belongs to the princesses!”
The mare didn’t seem bothered by him in the slightest. “This isn’t the princesses’ chambers, but I suppose it’ll have to do this year.”
She immediately turned and fled through another door at the opposite end of the chamber. Belltoll tore after her.
In and out of rooms they ran, up stairs, through corridors, and down secret halls.
“Hey, bucket head,” the mare called back as she huffed. “Isn’t that tin can you’re wearing a little heavy on you?”
“This isn’t a tin can,” Belltoll retorted. “This is the hauberk of the royal guard used for centuries and it’s going to arrest you!”
“Oh, come on,” the mare complained. “I’m just taking one trinket for my collection. The princesses won’t even miss it.”
She kicked over a table as she ran to obstruct his path.
Not missing a stride, Belltoll threw himself upward, clearing the table in a single bound. “It’s not about whether they’ll miss it or not. It’s about respect!”
Belltoll had long since lost track of where they were in the palace. Now they were running through a thin, dark corridor that slanted upward towards a small wooden door. The mare darted through it and Belltoll after her.
What greeted him on the other side brought him to a grinding halt. They were in a spacious room with many wooden support beams both above and below. He realized both he and the mare were now standing on one of these beams.
She grinned. “Don’t look down.”
Belltoll curled his neck to look and immediately wished he hadn’t. Several hundred feet below lay the palace’s main atrium, which hosted the Grand Galloping Gala. Somehow, their chase had lead them to the rafters of the Great Hall. From their position, the swarm of ponies below looked like tiny insects crawling along the floor.
Vertigo grabbed his stomach in a merciless, iron clench. Belltoll was quickly reduced to lying flat on his stomach, quivering hooves clutching the wooden beam for dear life.
The mare saw his discomfort and her smile widened gleefully. With confidence, she spread her wings and leapt off the beam onto another several yards away. She turned to wink at him.
“Not a fan of heights? Sorry, cutie, but it looks like you’re at a disadvantage up here without wings or magic.”
With a foalish laugh, she pulled out the candelabrum and waved it for him to see. “Some guard you turned out to be. I guess all the good ones got shipped off to Nordanver.”
The taunt echoed in Belltoll’s mind. He could already imagine the same words coming from his angry commanding officer, his disappointed fellow cohorts, and his jeering friends back home.
Some guard he turned out to be indeed. He had read so many stories of brave heroes while curled up in his cozy corner at home, his snout pressed into a swamp of crinkly pages. How he had dreamed for years he would one day be half as great as them.
If only he’d known he’d fail so utterly.
Hot, angry blood pumped through Belltoll’s heart. Such a sorry end was not fit for any of those outstanding heroes. Why should it be fit for him?
Mustering all his will, Belltoll tore his eyes away from the floor miles below and refocused his gaze on the mare across from him.
Perhaps it was because she had been so confident she was out of reach that when Belltoll leapt across the gap, his limbs flailing like green turbines, she hesitated out of shock. Or perhaps it was his scream that caught her off guard, or perhaps the manic fire in his eyes.
In all honesty, Belltoll shouldn’t have made the jump. He’d never crossed such a gap in a single bound before. Yet somehow the impossible became seemingly possible when you yelled “In the name of the princesses!” at the top of your lungs.
Time seemed to slow down as his body arced towards the mare. Her expression morphed from surprise to horror. Below them, the orchestra faltered and ponies craned their necks backward to search out the source of the mysterious war cry. Belltoll’s hoof extended forwards and the mare instinctively drew the candelabrum back and out of his reach. Too late did she realize the shiny trinket had not been his target.
Like a mouse trap slapping down on its prey, Belltoll’s hoof snagged the mare’s vulnerable tail.
Then time sped up again as gravity awoke and Belltoll fell like a rock with an attached delivery address to Tartarus. With a shriek, the mare was dragged after him, her hooves leaving deep gouge marks in the support beam as she vainly clung to it.
The floor below rushed to smash them with fiendish glee. Belltoll was still screaming, but words were no longer intelligible as terror now fueled his voice. Then, a few feet before their untimely deaths, their plummet took a sharp turn and they were soaring haphazardly up and over the crowd. The mare, Belltoll realized, had just managed to open her wings and turn their fall into flight.
But Belltoll was too heavy, and as he climbed up the mare’s tail to grab ahold of her middle and continue his screaming in her ear, their trajectory took a steep hair-raising dive.
Vertigo surged again in his stomach, which felt like a hot, bubbling cauldron as they flew over ponies, through cakes, and under dresses. Belltoll looked up to see them hurtling towards a large iron brazier. He had barely enough time to think, “That brazier looks awfully painful,” before they slammed into it.
Belltoll’s helmet rang like a gong and they both pinwheeled in an arc before crashing to the ground. Above them, the brazier teetered dangerously from the impact. Then it tipped over, the head slamming into a nearby long table. The table cracked in half and a flock of desserts flew off its top. The entire table promptly burst into flames, and the Great Hall filled with shrieks of alarm.
Belltoll stood up..., or rather, he tried to stand. His stomach still roiled and lights swam through his vision. The cacophony of screaming surrounding him didn’t help either. He looked up and could barely make out a sea of white, pink, blue, and green filled with stars.
The sea of colors and stars spoke, sounding anxious. “Are you alright, little one?”
Belltoll did not feel alright. He needed to find a waste bin, or a privy, or a bush, and fast.
“You don’t look so well,” the colors continued. “You fell from such a great height, it’s a miracle you survived!”
The colors were beginning to take form. He soon recognized a tall mare’s beautiful face adorned with a long horn and golden crown. It was Princess Celestia! The mare he’d dreamed of protecting ever since he’d read his first fantasy novel!
He couldn’t believe it was reality. Her glistening mane filled his vision and radiant light warmed his cheeks as she looked down at him with motherly concern. Such splendor was enough to send him right back into the dizzying haze of unconsciousness.
Report! His mind tried to rally him to action. You’ve caught a perpetrator in the palace, you soddening sack of spinach! Report!
The world was still spinning from his collision with the brazier, but he quickly moved forward like an inebriated pony to address his princess, trying his best to avoid small pockets of fire while slipping on the remains of cakes and pies.
“I have something for you, your Highness,” he declared, taking a swift bow.
As his head rapidly descended, his stomach complained one final time that it could no longer hold onto its contents. Like a well-oiled machine, Belltoll’s mouth opened wide and offered up a river of sick all over the princess’ forehooves.
Then Belltoll blacked out, the lingering taste of vomit strong in his mouth and the image of the royal princess’ look of horror burned into his eyes for all eternity.
As he surrendered to dark despair, he heard in his mind the pitiful wail once more:
Why couldn’t he have just stayed home with his books?
“Finally, you’re awake. I was getting bored watching you drool.”
Belltoll awoke to find himself snugly wrapped in bed sheets on a clean mattress. The room was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos he remembered passing out in.
He looked up to see a unicorn with a creamy yellow pelt and sunset orange mane at his bedside looking down at him like he was last week’s cafeteria leftovers. She wore golden armor and a huge, garish bowtie.
“Captain Sunny Day!” Belltoll squeaked. He scrambled to stand to attention, but the rush of blood to his head caused him to swerve dangerously on his hooves.
The captain raised a hoof and firmly pushed him back into bed.
“Easy there, fella,” she warned. “You took a real beating back there. Nurse said to keep your flank in bed.”
Belltoll moaned as his body flared with painful agreement.
Sunny leaned in. “I’ll be back soon. You stay right here, understood?” She poked his nose to emphasize the last word.
“Y-yes, sir,” Belltoll said weakly, trying to salute.
“Don’t. Move.” She pressed his nose two more times.
“Understood, sir.”
Sunny nodded, apparently satisfied, then turned and left the room.
Belltoll lay still for several minutes, blinking and thinking while the fiery ache in his muscles subsided. What had happened? And how exactly had he gotten here?
He turned his attention to the room. He was in a long chamber with dozens of beds lined up just like they were in the barracks, only these were covered in white linen. Overseeing the far end of the room, an old grandfather clock announced the lateness of the hour.
On the clock’s last peal, it finally dawned on Belltoll that he was in the Palace Infirmary.
He reached up to touch his head, and felt soft cotton bandages instead of steel. His helmet was gone! Panicking, Belltop lifted his sheets and saw that his entire suit of armor had been removed too.
Belltoll felt horribly empty. That armor had been entrusted to him by the Royal Palace. Now it was gone, and it had taken his pride along with it.
They had put their trust in him to protect the palace from danger, and instead he had set the Grand Galloping Gala ablaze.
He cast his eyes about miserably. They’d be coming for him. The sergeant, the princess, the nobles, and all the Gala ponies. He had ruined everypony’s evening. No doubt they’d have him strung up by his tail, or executed, or worse. He never should have pretended he could be a guard!
As his eyes raked across the room looking for any angry mobs in hiding, he noticed another pony lying on the bed next to his.
It was the mare. The mare who had stolen the candelabrum! She lay flat on her back, but one eye was peeking at him. She quickly winked it shut.
“You’re not asleep!” Belltoll yelled indignantly.
The mare stuck out her tongue. “Am too. Be quiet.”
Belltoll dragged himself out of bed. His body protested profusely, but he ignored it.
“Where’s the trinket you took,” he demanded. “You have to give it back.”
The mare opened her eyes to glower at him. “They already took it away. Now I’m stuck here with nothing but a bunch of bruises to show for it. So, thanks for that.”
“Oh.” Belltoll breathed in relief. “Well, good.”
The mare’s glare sharpened. “Excuse me?”
“The candlestick!” he hastily amended.“Not the bruises. S-sorry about those.”
The mare sighed and crossed her forehooves, sulking lower in her bed. “I guess I had it coming. I wasted my opportunity to escape by trying to rub my victory in your face.” She paused, then quietly added, “Sorry for the nasty things I said.”
Belltoll blinked in surprise. Then he averted his gaze to the floor. Now knowing that the theft had been properly dealt with, he wasn’t sure what more to say to the mare.
“I’m Belltoll,” his mouth eventually came up with. He held out a hoof.
The mare looked at it dubiously, then at him. “Shifty Shoes,” she replied after a moment’s consideration.
She was about to take the offered hoof when another pony, an elderly auburn mare in a white cap and coat, bustled into the room from a side office. Upon seeing Belltoll out of his bed, she gasped and immediately rushed over to him.
“No, no, no!” she cried, slapping her forelimbs against his chest until he fell back onto his mattress. “You are not allowed to walk about. You are an invalid and you need rest!”
“B-But I–”
She pushed a glass of water into his face. “Drink,” she commanded. “You must remain hydrated.”
Belltoll grappled with the glass and tried not to choke. Thankfully the nurse had already moved onto Shifty.
“I’m fine! Get off of me!” Shifty complained, but her voice gradually muffled as the nurse buried her under a mound of extra blankets.
The nurse hastened about them, tucking in their covers and fussing excessively over their bandages. “Now that you’re both awake, you need to regain your strength. I’ll be back shortly with some healthy nourishments.”
She disappeared back into the depths of her office. Once the coast seemed clear, Belltoll sat up and took a timid sip from his glass.
Then the door opened, and Belltoll spat out his water.
Princess Celestia strode into the room wearing a flowing gown of pure satin. She was a veritable sun amidst the backdrop of the dreary world around her, and her smile illuminated the room. She looked about expectantly, but her expression faltered as she watched Belltoll tumble out of his bed, mouth jabbering incoherently, limbs flailing, and sheets slowly tangling about him like a cocoon.
“Your highness!” Belltoll tried to stand upright but tripped over the bedsheets. He opted to sit.
Celestia smiled at him. “Good evening, Belltoll,” she said.
She knew his name! Belltoll gasped and bowed his head to stare at his reflection in the princess’ new shoes.
A large and incredibly ugly bowtie moved toward him from behind the princess.
“C’mon, rookie. Let’s get you out of that mess,” Sunny said, as if she were speaking to a beleaguered puppy, and began to tug the sheets off him.
Once he was free, Sunny moved to sit next to Shifty’s bed, leaving Belltoll to face the alicorn.
The princess looked him up and down. “How are you feeling?”
“Exanimate,” Belltoll said. “I mean excellent!”
Hiding a grin, Celestia looked to the bed. “And our little pegasus friend?”
Belltoll glanced back at Shifty, who had decided to resume feigning sleep.
“She’s fine.”
Celestia nodded. “Well, we all had a bit of an adventure tonight, didn’t we? Why don’t you tell me about it?”
Belltoll gulped. “All of it?”
“Of course.” Celestia sat down and lifted her ears attentively. “I wish to hear everything that happened since your superior officer left you at your post.”
So Belltoll told her. Celesia listened very carefully, without interrupting. Shifty remained quiet and still throughout the entire story.
“Forgive me, Princess!” Belltoll wailed when he had finished his tale. “I tarnished your dignity in front of the entire hall! I am utterly ashamed and I am prepared to pay a criminal’s sentence for my actions!”
Both the princess and Sunny looked at him, then at each other. Then they burst into uncontrollable fits of bright, giddy laughter.
Belltoll didn’t understand. Had they already unanimously agreed on a humiliating punishment for him?
Then Celestia’s magic enveloped him. Belltoll flinched but was soon set at ease as he was cradled and brought towards the princess who raised her forehooves up and around to trap him in a warm embrace.
“I admit you caught me by surprise at the Gala, but I don’t think something as silly as ruined shoes is enough to concern me about tarnished dignity,” she chided, “let alone brand you a criminal.”
Belltoll was squished against the delicate fabric of her dress and her pelt. He wasn’t sure which was softer. “It isn’t?” he asked, his voice an octave higher than usual.
Celestia nuzzled the top of his head as if he were a teddy bear. “Of course not. Where you afraid I would be angry?”
Belltoll was afraid he would be dead.
“I ruined the Gala,” he offered dully.
“Tonight was not the first time the Gala has been-” Celestia tilted her head as she sought for an appropriate word. “Enlivened. The commotion you caused was not as detrimental as you might think. On the contrary, the patricians are quite capable of carrying on their regaling regardless of interruptions. The Gala continues as we speak.”
“Oh,” Belltoll murmured, pressing his snout into Celestia’s fur. It was so unbelievably comforting being held by the princess. He only wished his insides felt half as good.
Celestia curled her neck to better view his face. “Something still bothers you?”
“I-I’m grateful that you’re not angry for what happened, believe me.” Belltoll nodded vigorously. “It’s just… it’s always been my dream to be a royal guard.”
His head sunk depressingly low into her arms. “But after tonight, I don’t know if I should be one.”
Celestia adjusted her grip so that Belltoll was forced to look up at her. “Tell me, Belltoll. Why did you become a royal guard?”
To protect you, Belltoll wanted to say. But as he returned her gaze, he saw in her eyes the love she sheltered for the many hundreds of thousands of ponies of Equestria. It was a vast, bottomless well that drained and refilled tirelessly with joy, worry, devotion, and grief day after day and Belltoll realized he wished his own heart could equal a mere fraction of that well.
“I want to protect others,” he said. “I want to see them smile because they know they’re safe.”
Celestia stroked his mane. “And protect them you shall, even me.”
“But-“ The princess’ assertion didn’t make sense to him. “But how can I if I’m a failure?”
Celestia looked thoughtful. Then she turned her gaze to the other bed and called, “Shifty?”
Shifty noticeably stiffened but did not open her eyes nor answer.
Sunny ignited her horn and Shifty yelped as her blankets were strewn aside and she was yanked by her mane into a sitting position.
“I’m awake! I’m awake!” she clamored, swatting the magic away.
She immediately fell silent when Celestia leaned forward and placed her face directly in front of hers.
“Tell me, little one: you’ve been sneaking your way into the Gala to pilfer trinkets for several years, correct?”
Shifty held the gaze for less than a second before blushing and averting her eyes. “Maybe?”
“And yet, this is the first time you’ve been caught, is it not?”
Shifty shot Belltoll a glare. “Yeah, I guess,” she mumbled.
Celestia beamed. “You see, Belltoll, you are not a failure! You accomplished what many capable guards before you could not.”
Belltoll’s mouth hung open for several seconds before it regained motor functionality. “But… but that was just a fluke! It-”
Sunny poked the side of him that was still visible under Celestia’s limbs. “Word of advice, rookie,” she said. “When an alicorn tells you to take credit for something, just shut up and nod.”
Celestia nodded in agreement. “I believe you have great potential as a guard. Your devotion alone is enough to make me feel safer already.”
She let Belltoll go, allowing him to stand upright.
Belltoll felt like he’d been clubbed over the head. “Y-you really, truly mean that?”
Celestia’s smile was more exquisite than a hundred sunrises. “We need guards like you, Belltoll. Now more than ever. Please don’t throw your dreams away when there are so many who need your help.”
“Be brave, my little pony.”
It was like the pitiful flame inside him suddenly had an extra share of kindling heaped upon it.
“I-I will. I will!”
Belltoll stood taller than he ever had in his life. “I’ll do my best! I’ll make you proud! By your glorious grace, Princess Celestia, just wait and see how brave I can be!”
Behind him, Sunny rolled her eyes.
Belltoll gave a stalwart salute, did an about face, and marched through the entry doors, out of the Infirmary, and into the promising world beyond.
...
When the stallion had gone from the room, Sunny Day trotted forward and poked her head out the door. She snorted back a laugh. “Pffft! He’s actually skipping down the hall. He’s like a foal that just earned his cutie mark.”
“Is he really?” Celestia hurried to place her head right above her assistant’s. Then she laughed and clapped her forehooves together. “He’s so precious! He must be protected. I want him in my house guard detail.”
Sunny vigorously shook her head. “Nope. Bad idea. No way we’re taking him! We don’t hire fresh recruits for the Day House Guard. We have standards, you know.”
Celestia pouted. “Just give him a few years. I’m certain he’ll grow into a most capable guard.”
“I doubt it,” Sunny muttered, eying the green stallion as he pranced out of sight. “You saw what he did to the Gala. I am not going to be responsible for him.”
“I am the princess,” Celestia huffed. “I reserve the right to choose my guards how I see fit.”
Sunny poked her superior’s chest in challenge. “And I’m you’re thankless assistant. I reserve the right to tell you when your ideas are terrible!”
Celestia glared back. “It’s your job to do as I command, which you never do.”
“I wore this boorish armor instead of a hot outfit to the Gala just like you said I should!”
“Along with that terrible bow!”
Sunny grinned, her eyes shining with glee. “That’s right. Not a single pony tonight was able to look at you without seeing my ugly, eyesore of a bowtie sitting right next to your flank!”
The argument would very well have escalated had it not been abruptly cut short by the nurse re-entering the room, now holding a tray of food, two cups of homebrewed herbal tea, and a few medical instruments.
She froze when she saw Belltoll’s empty cot.
“Where is my patient?” she demanded, eyes wide with alarm.
Celestia and Sunny exchanged looks.
“He just left,” Sunny indicated the door they were huddled around, the boldness that had filled her voice mere seconds ago suddenly giving way to a defensive smile.
The nurse flung the tray to the floor.
“He’s suffered a concussion!” she screeched, pulling at her mane bun. “He shouldn’t be traipsing about the palace!”
“I think that's my cue to leave,” Shifty coughed nervously, edging herself out of bed.
The nurse immediately rounded on her, shaking a threatening thermometer in her direction and gritting her teeth. “You. Will. Not! You are injured and you will stay until I give you leave. If you even try to sneak away before then, I will personally apply anesthesia to your head via a reflex hammer! Am I understood?”
Shifty was back in bed, pale-faced and clutching her covers.
Sunny was already halfway out the door. “I’ll go chase him down, then,” she offered. She quickly exited the Infirmary with Celestia right behind her, each sparing the nurse a concerned glance before the doors shut behind them.
It didn’t take long for the pair to find the stallion. He had collapsed not ten paces beyond the first turn of the corridor. His eyes were rolled back in his head and a small puddle of drool was massing under his gaping mouth. The neglected pain in his body had long surpassed its limit, and his brain, in earnest interest of protecting its host, had made the executive decision to shut down.
Sunny massaged an oncoming migraine. “What a hoof-ful, this stallion.”
Her horn flickered and Belltoll was delicately lifted into the air and pulled in the direction of the Infirmary.
Sunny trotted beside the unconscious body. “I keep forgetting how wild the new recruits can be, and we have so many now. Just last week I had to lecture a pair of guards for tackling a helpless grandmother who’d taken a wrong turn. You’d think we’d reverted to a daycare center here.”
“We’ll make do,” Celestia replied, following her assistant. “The recruits are new, but at least they’re passionate.”
Sunny gave Celestia a wary glance. “Speaking of passion, don’t you think you overdid it a bit with the pep talk back there? He seems like the type that takes things to heart.”
Celestia looked offended. “I meant every word I said!”
“Maybe, but when he crashes the next big social event, the blame’s going to be on you.”
Celestia frowned, a hint of doubt marring her perfect countenance.
“He won’t,” she said more to herself than to her retainer.
Belltoll’s limp body gave a sporadic twitch, and one of his back hooves shot out. Sunny only barely managed to duck beneath the powerful kick. A few seconds later, her helmet clattered to the floor at the far end of the hall.
“… probably.”
