Like A Well-Oiled Machine

by Estee

Rating: everyone
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Original Character, Princess Celestia, Slice of Life, Main 6
Length: 10183

Shortly after the Elements were rediscovered, somepony decided the new Bearers needed combat training...

It's been two weeks since Princess Luna's Return. Equestria is starting to realize that the Elements are back, with new Bearers. And what does that mean? Well, clearly this isn't the end of their adventures, and taking some personal time for Harmony to grow? That's just ridiculous. It's obvious that what they need is training in how to fight. And Emery Board, the greatest drill sergeant in any nation, is pleased to unretire long enough for offering his services to the restored crowns.

He got one session with the Bearers.

Realistically, one was enough.

(Part of the Triptych Continuum, which has its own TVTropes page and FIMFiction group. New members and trope edits welcome.)

Now with author Patreon, SubscribeStar, and Ko-Fi pages.

Published 2019-07-24 01:10:02 UTC
Last updated 2019-07-24 01:10:02 UTC

Other Than A Drill

Any other guest in what was finally once again the Solar throne room would have needed to raise their voice. A thousand changes were taking place in the wake of Luna's Return, and at least two hundred of them were currently being managed by contractors. The Lunar Wing of the palace was being reopened, restored, refurbished and, during just about any hour under Sun and Moon, rendered resoundingly loud with reverberations from all of the work. There had been any number of tender, longed-for moments which had taken place in the two weeks since the sisters had been reunited, and most of the ones from the fourth day on had required a certain degree of shouting.

Every other pony who'd entered Celestia's throne room during that period had needed to increase their volume just to get past the echoes of hoof-hammering. In the case of Emery Board, he was not only fully comprehensible from the moment he set hoof upon gold-flecked marble, but some of the distant contractors had to kick that much harder just to make their efforts heard past him. However, a voice which naturally shook dust from rafters had its ideal environment a few hundred body lengths away, and Celestia was estimating his presence to be assisting cleaning labor at a rate of one hour bypassed for every sentence spoken.

"General!" the old stallion declared, and automatically saluted. His forehoof touched the brim of the ancient hat.

She managed a small smile as she gazed down at him, for some ponies simply never changed. Emery had always been exceptionally wiry in build: thin, but earth pony strength meant it was a thinness which came with a curious density. The same camouflage colors of his coat (produced by fur with an odd roughness to the grain) which made him vanish into just about any forest had him instantly stand out in any other setting, allowing ponies to quickly identify the source of all the noise. He seemed to have been created by a griffon sculptor who had a minimalist approach, a fondness for facial crags, and an odd affection for working in stale jerky. He had always been that way, and Celestia sometimes suspected he hadn't been born so much as he'd just rasped his way into the world.

In a way, she was glad to see him. And like everypony else he'd ever interacted with, his presence was inspiring a steadily-rising level of dread.

"Sergeant," she greeted. "And as always, 'Princess' will do. Welcome back to Equestria. I see retirement hasn't suited you."

"I did not retire!" the stallion declared. "I continue my work to this day!"

She managed to keep the sigh internal. "Yes. That's what I meant. You were honorably discharged, Sergeant. One of the most honorable discharges in the history of the Guard."

Brown eyes briefly became as misty as their owner would permit, creating a 0.00000001% increase in the room's humidity.

"It was quite the ceremony," the sergeant loudly reminisced. "Just about everypony I'd ever trained was there. All just to see me off."

This was true. Nearly everypony to pass through Emery Board's tutelage had done everything they could to make sure they were there when he stepped down at last or, to be more realistic about it, had been not-so-subtly nudged over the edge.

"But there was still a need for me!" he stated. "I live for the day when there is no need for me, while knowing that day will never come! So I offered my skills to the other nations, and they were glad to have me! But now I have come home, because Equestria needs me again, needs me more than ever! I offer my skills to the throne!"

He saluted again. Celestia's imagination, which had already reached the diplomatic dinner level of dread, provided the metallic twang of taut wire snapping back into place.

She forced her ears to stay upright, and wondered how quickly the borders of her tail were flowing.

"Why do we need you, Sergeant? Why now, and more than ever?"

He didn't smile. He was famed for not smiling or rather, for making ponies feel as if they would do anything to earn one. But his eyes did raise slightly and for the only time during their meeting, his voice nearly fell into normal decibels.

"You got her back," he said. "I've waited to see if some of mine came back, but that was just weeks at the most before I knew, one way or another. To wait as long as you did, and to get her back... I can't imagine how it feels."

She quietly nodded, and let the warm shafts of sunlight which stretched between them say the rest.

"But I heard how!" he abruptly declared. "That the Elements have also returned! That they have Bearers! And do you know what those Bearers need?"

The dread, which had paused briefly at 'treaty signing', shot directly up towards 'griffon-hosted barbecue.'

"Some time to themselves," Celestia carefully proposed. "Time in which they can truly come to know each other. Time in which Harmony can take true root and grow."

"NO!"

With homemade sauce, where it would be an insult not to try the ribs...

"...no?"

"They need combat potential evaluation and training!" the sergeant shouted. "This will not be their last adventure! Destiny will come calling, again and again! And so they must be prepared! They will be put through the fire as crude ore and emerge as steel! It will be my honor to serve as Equestria's forge once again!"

The time Celestia used for forcing her fur back into its proper lie was also useful for thinking of something potentially helpful to say.

"The Elements," she cautiously tried, "rely, in part, on the bonds between those who carry them. In this case, those bonds are new and, at the moment, somewhat fragile. They were able to find a connection during a crisis, but if they are to manage the feat again, they need to establish their friendships on a deeper level. They need time --"

"-- I understand, Princess!"

It was an odd feeling, disbelieving her own words before saying them. "You do?"

"I am the crisis!" He saluted. "They will deepen their bonds through uniting against a common enemy! Which is me!"

"Sergeant --" she valiantly tried.

And with an expression of great self-respect, "I have trained generations of Guards! Since leaving Equestria, I have trained griffons, minotaurs, zebras, and yaks! I am proud to say that I have never had a class of recruits who did not dream about killing me!"

Yes, Sergeant. That's why there was such a turnout at your discharge ceremony. Some of them knew they wouldn't be alive without you, and all of them were ponies who just wanted to make sure you were actually gone.

But he had served Equestria. Had done so to the best of his ability for, as he had said, generations. That service meant he was a pony whom she couldn't just turn away. She had to try and make him understand. Even when she knew he couldn't.

"They're not volunteers, Sergeant." Would that get through? "They didn't ask for this. They haven't stepped forward for a life of discipline and --" there was no other way to put it "-- you. They are, in many ways, rather exceptional mares. But they are not Guards. They never could be. And because they aren't, your methods --"

"-- will work!" he interrupted, because the one thing which came with that much seniority was the ability to interrupt anypony. "I am not sexist, and so I have instructed mares! I am not speciesist, and so my teaching works for every species! They need me, Princess! They need to learn how to fight!"

"They need," Celestia made one last attempt, "to grow into their virtues. Combat training can --"

"Tell me the last time a virtue gave somepony a good kick in the snout!" Which was shortly followed by "-- Princess?"

"My apologies," Celestia quickly said, sending her smile back to join the memory which had inspired it. (An extra moment was taken for watching the years-past kick land, followed by three more for observing it again, only much more slowly.) "Sergeant..."

He gave just about all of his life to Equestria.

Everypony around him had just given their eardrums.

"...one session."

"They need to be in Whip Camp! They will understand that they are to be treated as something to be --"

"-- one session," Celestia repeated. "To evaluate their combat potential. We'll see where it goes after that."

He looked her over. It was a very special sort of look, something almost unique to sergeants. It was trying to subtly imply that the regrettable idiocy inherent to the uppermost ranks was just something a good sergeant had to work around, and it had completely failed at 'subtly'.

"One session," he shrewdly said.

"One," Celestia echoed. "I'll have them brought out to the old training grounds tomorrow. But it's just you and them, Sergeant. Nopony else."

"I'll need briefing papers. Backgrounds. Marks and talents."

"You'll have them."

"Individual evaluations first. Group performance after."

She nodded. When it came to dealing with sergeants, nodding was most of what generals got to do. Princesses didn't fare much better.

"Tomorrow," the old Guard declared with open satisfaction, and added in what he had probably decided was the clever bit. "By your will, General!"

And with that, he turned on a single hoof and left. She listened as he shouted greetings at several Guards on his way out, which produced a 30% acceleration in dust fall and one emergency trip made to a nearby physician from a pegasus whose sudden heart palpitations had been joined by something more than a high jump into the ceiling, incidentally bumping the earlier number to 32%.

Combat potential evaluation and training...

The new Bearers weren't Guards. Emery was incapable of being anything other than what he was.

One session.

She wondered how far it would get.

There was an old tree-rimmed pasture set into a fairly level portion of the mountain's rise, about a third of the way around the curve from Canterlot. It was where generations of Guards had been through their training. It had equipment, obstacles, and truly excellent acoustics. It was said that if you listened carefully, you could still hear the echoes of drill sergeants screaming and most of the time, that had been true because for that same temporal span, there had been Emery.

"They tell me you are fast!" he barked at the cyan pegasus, because he'd also tried his hoof at training a particularly-curious warren of Dogs and it had done wonders for his bark.

She looked at him. It was the sort of look which suggested her eyelids were still considering whether it was worth waking up enough for full participation, and it also came with a fair degree of offense.

"I'm fast!" she declared. "I'm faster than just about anypony! Except maybe the Wonderbolts, and that's only going to be until I get past the practical audition and into the Academy and get a chance to show them --"

He could hear it in her voice. The ego. Any good sergeant knew how to work with an Ego, and you started by finding whatever the possessor felt was the strongest thing supporting it and kicking hard.

"But you are not fast enough to touch me!"

And now she was staring.

"You're old," she stated.

"Age is merely a number!"

"It's a really big number," she casually decided, and began to absent-mindedly preen her left wing. "I mean, you're old. Old-old. The Princess calls you into the palace just so she can look at you and think 'That pony's old'. You've got a medal for old, and it's made of stone because nopony had discovered anything else yet."

"I am your sergeant! You will treat me with respect!"

She thought about that.

"So what did the first sunrise look like? Were the colors different? Or was it black and white because nopony had invented color?"

He put his forehoof down. To wit, he put it down on a stone which he had placed under his left foreleg for just such an occasion, and the little hollow magnified the sound as it always had.

"OW!"

Emery didn't smile. "You will move sixty body lengths to the back! Then you will charge me down at your best low-altitude flight speed! And you will not be able to touch me."

"I don't want to touch you," the pegasus angrily declared. "I hit you going at that kind of speed, you'll break."

The camo-hued foreleg came up. Went down.

"OW! Would you stop that!"

"Can you charge?"

Magenta eyes narrowed.

"I don't have to do anything to take you down."

"That is very nearly almost true!" the sergeant told her. "Not doing anything seems to be most of what you are about!"

It was more of a squint now.

"FINE!" the pegasus shouted. "Fine! Let's just get everypony watching and I'll --"

"-- it is you and me! Nopony else!" This was the individual evaluation portion, and so the other five were waiting in a small cave, out of sight around the stone curve. It was a cave where hundreds of prospective Guards had waited their turn while he used the isolation to break down ego one by one while there were no friends around to support them, and most of the graffiti featured Emery. "Show me what you can do!"

Her anger emerged as a snort. Wings flared, and she buzzed to the required distance. Stared him down across the grass while hovering in place, and it did exactly as much for her as it had ever done for everypony else.

Emery waited.

Her wings blurred. A streak of fury and power kicked up a backwash of rage as it blazed over the grass, and it only took a split-second to see what she was trying to do. She was aiming high, undoubtedly with the intention of knocking his hat off. She was trying to embarrass him, and she was fast, one of the fastest pegasi he'd ever seen, her acceleration was just about perfect and her wing tempo was textbook and she was committed and impulsive and frankly, had the next part coming.

Emery moved.

Afterwards, because there was time, he walked around the pasture and checked on the equipment, delving into the fond memories which had been embedded within the deepest dents.

"-- hey!"

He'd actually smelled her coming first, and so casually looked up just as more sweat fell from her saturated fur.

"You..." the pegasus huffed. "You just... that's not fair! All you did was --"

"-- I stepped slightly to one side!"

"Yeah! And that's cheating! I was going too fast to --"

"-- adjust? Divert? Stop?" Which was when Emery laughed. He often laughed when dealing with new recruits, because there were few things an ego on this level found so offensive as somepony deciding they were funny. "I have been waiting for you to return! Because you were still accelerating when you passed me! How long did it take before you realized you'd missed? To complete any degree of arc so you could come back? You were committing just about everything you had to speed, and all that gave you was a straight line! If anypony moves out of that line, you miss! Do you know what an intelligent pegasus would have done?"

"Flown faster," she panted. "Gotten there before you could move --"

"-- wind," he cut her off. "You could have sent a wind gust ahead of you. Put it behind me, pushed me into your path. Created enough fog to give yourself some concealment, make me uncertain as to your direction of approach. You are a weather coordinator. You have the techniques you need to fight. And all you did was put everything you had into simple speed. Because you were showing off." Just a little more softly, "And if you show off in a real fight, your opponent's applause will come in the form of hooves going into your skull."

And this time, he could see her truly thinking about all of it.

"But..."

The sergeant waited.

"...if I put some strength into creating wind, then I'm not going as fast!" She shook herself in mid-hover: sweat rained out in all directions. "Besides, anypony can create wind. Just about nopony can fly as fast as I can. Maybe nopony at all, and I just have to prove that. You don't prove how fast you are by going slow. And if I'd just accelerated a little more at the start, I probably -- I definitely could have reached you before you did anything. I just have to go Rainboom speed!" Hastily, with insistence increasing by the word, "And the Rainboom is real. I'm going to get it back! Just you wait and see!"

Emery inhaled.

"YOU ARE COMMITTING YOURSELF TO REPEATING YOUR FAILURE! WHAT KIND OF PONY DOES THE SAME THING OVER AND OVER --"

"-- you see that tree over there?" the pegasus yawned.

"A TREE WHICH YOU COULD HAVE STRUCK WITH LIGHTNING, DISTRACTING --"

"That's where I'm gonna be. Napping."

"NAPPING?"

"Yeah. Because if I sleep for a while, I'll be faster after I wake up."

"GUARDS..." This was going to require a second breath. "GUARDS DO NOT TAKE NAP BREAKS!"

"Cool," the pegasus decided as she wearily flew towards the sturdiest branch. "That's why I'm going to get into the Wonderbolts. And not the Guards. Tag you later!"

Part of training was making the recruits fear him. Turning himself into a source of stress, one where they would do anything to avoid his wrath. He'd found a little fear did a lot to encourage learning, and reason-shredding amounts of terror were equal to a full graduate course.

However, dealing with a mare who had already brought fear with her was presenting certain difficulties.

Emery looked at the barely-budged needle of the anemometer for the third time. The nearby yellow bundle of life cowered that much deeper into itself and tremble-burrowed into the grass.

"...um..." she said. "...I'm not really... I can't..."

"You can fly," he stated, and did so with a surprising lack of decibels. He'd already learned that anything over a dull roar just created a trembling curl of "...eep!"

"...yes. Sort of..."

"And for techniques? Any other expressions of pegasus magic?"

"...I can fly... sort of..."

Normally, it would have been a cause for concern. He had a total of four wings to work with: two of them were possessed by a relative powerhouse who didn't care about properly directing her energies, and the other set was owned by a mare who apparently needed a major effort of will just to keep her ears upright. But in this case, Emery had received briefing papers and like any good sergeant, he'd read everything in them. Not that there had been all that much -- but in the case of the yellow mare, it was more than enough.

So she didn't have all that much for pegasus magic.

"So we will work with what you can do!"

In his opinion, she didn't need it.

She uncurled slightly. One blue-green eye timidly peered up at him. "...what I can do?"

"I have been told about your cottage!" he declared. "I have been told what you host there! That you communicate with animals! And not a single species, genus, or family, as would be the case for virtually every other pony with that magic! Any natural animal! That is a truly rare talent! That is something we can work with!"

The curl began to resolve into a shapely mare, and four knees carefully pushed the results upright.

"...really?" And he could hear the hope.

"I have prepared for this session!" he told her. "BRING IN THE CAGES!"

She turned towards the sounds of squeaking wheels, ignored the ponies pulling everything along. She had been transfixed by what they were hauling.

"...oh."

"Directly from the Ponyville Zoo!" Emery told her. "I have brought you lions!" Upset at the unexpected transition, restlessly pacing the borders of their barred confinement.

"...oh," she softly said as the one visible eye began to grow bright.

"And tigers!"

There were three of them, and none were happy. Cage bars were being clawed, gnawed, and growled at in turn.

"...oh..."

"And bears!"

"...oh my."

"A pony who can communicate with animals," Emery went on, "is a pony who will never be without allies! The forest is your recruiting ground! Even in urban combat, you are a force to be reckoned with! A thousand rats answering to your command, a swarm disorienting all unlucky enough to be caught within! Ten thousand pigeons pecking at fur and flesh! You are a private with the potential of a general!"

Which meant she would need a good sergeant at her side, because becoming a general would make her somewhat stupid. But Emery was prepared to commit for the long haul. He'd spent happy hours in Moonlit daydreams after reading her briefing sheet, just thinking about the possibilities. To have the entire natural world as units on paw and (non-pegasus) wing.

Six Bearers. And while tearing apart the ego of the other pegasus had seemed the most effective tactic for that currently-snoring pony, he needed a different approach here.

"Go up to the cages," he encouraged her. (He hardly ever encouraged anypony. It was a strange feeling. He wasn't sure he liked it.) "Show me what you can make them do."

She looked at the animals: five lions, three tigers, and two bears. Took a deep, slow breath.

"...can the other ponies leave? Please?"

He looked at them. They trotted away. And then she slowly, carefully moved forward, staying on ground level.

The process was fascinating to watch. If she was looking at the bear cage, her tread landed more heavily, and her head moved from side to side with a strange weight. Focus on the tigers, and she almost seemed to slink through the grass. And no matter how she moved...

Emery had never really been to zoos. He cycled his attention between training grounds, barracks, and battlefields: everything else consisted of that which he was fighting for or against, and thus mostly served as either set dressing or a good source of improvised weaponry. But some of those battles had been in the wild, and so he knew how most ponies reacted when in the presence of so many predators. Even those whom he'd trained would hesitate, pulling back from blood and fang.

The yellow pegasus was moving towards the cages, and her body did so many strange things during that approach -- but none of them came from fear.

The animals were watching her, and three species slowly calmed. The lions lay down as a group. The deep rumble of a tripled tiger purr failed to rouse the pony who was still snoozing in the tree. The bears simply waited.

She was talking now, to each cage's occupants in turn. (He couldn't quite make out the words, but noticed the ones given to the bears included a degree of grunt.) And after a few minutes, she glanced back at him.

"...I'm going to open the cages now," she softly said, the words just barely audible at that distance. "It's safe, I promise. Nothing bad will happen. They'll only do what we talked about. And that's all."

He nodded, for he believed every word of it.

When meeting with the most egotistical, you had to try and break them down. But in his decades-honed opinion, when dealing with the single most powerful, he had to give her a win.

She nosed each latch in turn, and the cage doors swung open. Slowly, calmly, the predators emerged.

Emery had training dummies set up: ponies made of padding draped over wood. They could take a few claw swipes...

"...what?"

Much to Emery's surprise, the word had been his. It hadn't been a whisper, because he didn't do that. It had simply been a question addressed to the universe, or at least that part of it which was currently beaming at him.

"Sorry?" asked the yellow pegasus with the facility of frequent practice.

"What are they doing?"

"Well," she beamed, "the pride and I talked it over. Grandma's really too old to hunt now, so she's happy to stay behind, and of course Yarn-mane wants to make sure she's okay. But Mommy and Daddy still remember what the wild is like, and they think Fluffball is still young enough that she can learn how to hunt. So I told them exactly which way to go for home, and they'll walk it. Avoiding all pony areas along the way, because that's only fair. Unless somepony manifests a talent for lion taming, in which case they promise to come right back and help that pony show off. Now, the tigers were raised in the zoo, so they really don't have any other home. But they're really tired of ponies just staring at them all the time. They want more privacy! So from now on, until the zookeepers add a cave to the habitat, they're just going to sit in a corner during the day, like they're doing now. They're on strike for better living conditions, which they deserve because if you're not going to let an animal grow up where they're supposed to be, they at least need to be more comfortable. So no more cute rolling around, and no purring. Not until their demands are met."

Three lions calmly walked under that one tree. The cyan pegasus twitched, then snored more loudly.

"But the younger sow will be back tomorrow," she added, twitching an ear towards the bear who was making its way down the mountainside. "Unless everything really works out. I hope it does. I've known Harry for two years now, and the poor thing's never had a date!"

"ATTACK!"

The white unicorn's horn ignited.

"...and a little more ruffle on this side," she mused. "To balance off the flourishes around the hips. Yes, that should work. Now, when considering the potential needs of those who might be carrying just a touch of extra weight..."

"ATTACK!"

She looked up. The quill, still enveloped in soft blue, bobbed with the motion, and the mare made a wordless sound of annoyance as she glanced down at the sketchbook.

"Oh, now look what you made me do," she crossly decided. "That ink blot makes it look as if I intended to place a brooch there -- hmm. Actually..."

"ATTACK THE TRAINING DUMMY! ALL YOU'VE DONE SINCE YOU GOT HERE IS --"

"-- work," the mare rudely interrupted. "I am working. The sacrifice of a sales day for the restoration of Princess Luna is a quite satisfactory trade, but to lose hours for this pointless exercise? Is not. And if I must be here, with no potential for any degree of income because quite frankly, I can think of only one pony who has potentially been wearing the same ill-advised item for as long as you have and she happens to be up next, then I will at least use the time to create."

He looked down at her, for she had laid down in the cool grass to work. Took in the overly-styled mane and tail, the softness of her form. Evaluated full saddlebags which, so far, had seen soft blue sort out sketchbooks (very much plural), sample fabrics, spools of thread, needles both sewing and knitting, and what appeared to be two years' worth of trade magazines.

"You have to take this seriously." It was almost a hiss. "You can't expect to solve every problem by offering up part of your tail!"

Her eyes brightened. "Oh, you heard about that? Nopony has been talking about that part! Honestly, I was rather hoping that his judgment would be slightly impaired by his emotional state. Given a little more time, I might have been able to do something more with the color balance --"

"There are going to be more missions!"

"I'm not strictly sure that's true," she countered. "I am, for starters, fully certain that the grand total of banished Princesses stops at one."

"Battling for your life! The training dummy is here so you can show off your tricks! Show me what you can --"

She stood up and did so while thrusting herself forward, leaving her snout a mere hoofwidth away from his.

"I can lose," she softly said.

"YOU AREN'T EVEN TRYING --"

"-- is there some reason for your persisting in that horrible racket? Do you truly believe that a simple assault of volume can somehow operate as its very own casting, turning me into what you desire?" Her head derisively tossed. "Hardly. I have dealt with customers, or rather, those who only pretend to same. Perhaps during those times when I have five or more ponies trying to direct me at once, I might lose focus -- but for a single effort? You have not attempted to commission a suit which can simultaneously serve as both summer and winter weight, and compared to what I have been through, sirrah, you are a rank amateur."

Emery shut up.

It took a moment for him to realize what had taken place, because it was something which had simply never happened before. She had shut him up, and that meant he had to start yelling more loudly --

"I have no spells for offense or defense," she steadily continued, words emerging from between tightly-pressed teeth. "The strength of my magic could best and most accurately be described as 'average'. My personal trick is for the discovery of gems. As for physical capabilities? I walk, trot, and gallop, with just enough hoofticuffs to hopefully keep myself safe after an evening out. I am not a combatant. I am a designer. Fate may have tapped my shoulder a single time, and that occasion worked out to the best. But should fate wish to maintain its winning streak, it should end the season after a single game. You are taking my hours, sirrah, hours I use to create, hours I could have spent getting to know a new friend during a slow sales day, but otherwise, hours I use for the only means of keeping myself alive which I possess. I will not waste my time attempting to master that which I can never learn, and so I request that you leave me alone."

There seemed to be only one way he could respond to that.

"Attack the dummy."

"Oooooh!" she fumed. "Very well!"

She stepped to the side, moving around him, then trotted forward at a brisk pace until she was right in front of it. The expertly-balanced saddlebags slowly shifted to a stop.

Blue eyes carefully roamed over the padded form, and the white mare nodded to herself.

"You are, at a minimum, forty years out of date," she told it. "And all of that time has been spent without mastering the concept of 'laundry,' which means your single best attack is olfactory. Additionally, nopony thought to dowel your frozen joints, and so you cannot even be posed. And your proportions! Of all the candidates I have ever seen for the dressmaker's dummy position, you are the single least suitable. You, my dear sir or madam, take the cake. And, looking at your excess of padding, likely ate most of it. Good day to you."

And with that, she turned and began to walk away, with her horn igniting so that the energy could gather up the supplies she'd left in the grass.

"THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEANT!" Emery roared. "YOU WANT TO BE USELESS! POINTLESS! A TROTTING PARODY OF --"

It made her turn, and in the single moment he had before it all happened, he couldn't tell which was the more blazing: horn or eyes.

"Leave. Me. Alone!"

Blue rushed across saddlebags, raised the lids, delved inside and sorted contents within the space of a blink. Several items emerged, and all of them came within three tail hairs of going through Emery's hat.

He stared at her for a moment as she furiously stalked away, quill and sketchbooks held within hard-spiking energy. Then he turned and looked at the training dummy or rather, as much of it which could still be seen. It was hard to make out some of the finer details through seventy assorted needles of varying lengths, although he did notice that most of them had stabbed into the locations of vital arteries.

"Good," he happily murmured to himself, finally looking forward to the group exercise again. "So you're the deadliest..."

The renewed good mood held up nearly all the way through the first of the earth ponies, although he was careful not to show it. If recruits felt that every smile he had ever offered took ten years off his life, they would work that much harder to earn one.

"I've seen worse," he grudgingly admitted as he trotted around the chosen training dummy. (The needle-stabbed one had been removed from the pasture, just in case it wound up being needed for a personal museum.) "Decent impacts. Aim's fine. Strength's towards the high end of the range."

"Ah know," the mare proudly said. "An' that's jus' with kicked rocks. Ah can do a lot more if'fin you'll let me get some direct kickin' in. Wanna see?"

"Oh, so you think you can impress me?"

The powerful rib cage puffed out. "Ah know Ah can!"

"Prove it!"

She did, although he wasn't going to tell her that.

"All right, that's enough," he gruffly declared. "I don't want to put any more of its limbs back on." So the group had at least one natural fighter. If he could direct them towards seeing her as the leader... "Get into a lot of brawls?"

"Ah had some youth hoofball," she shrugged. "Same thing. An' Ah've been gettin' in some practice lately. Not quite sure we're done workin' t'gether, especially after what the palace got the first time out. Figure if somethin' else comes up, they might call us again."

And the fighter was also the practical thinker. The prospects were improving by the minute...

"An' Ah jus' know it's gotta be me at the center," the mare added -- then laughed. "Ain't like it's gonna be anypony else! Ain't like it can be!"

"So you've been evaluating them?" (He almost added 'corporal' to the end of that, but it needed to wait a little longer.)

"'course Ah have! Gotta be done! An'..." Her voice dropped a little, and the powerful form's posture relaxed. "...Ah know they gave you the straight harness on us. So y'know Ah got the Honesty necklace. Ah ain't gonna lie t' you. An' between you an' me here..."

He nodded.

"...y'see that snoozin' bundle of apple-stealin' self-interest up there in the tree, takin' some downtime between crashes? She's got some skills, not that Ah'm gonna tell her. But if Ah could buy her for what she's worth an' sell her for what she thinks she's worth, Ah'd own Barnyard Bargains. An' the 'fashionista'?" She snorted. "Little bit better, years ago. But right now? Useless talent, useless personality, might be a useless pony. 'Oh, look: I have sacrificed my tail, my precious tail!' Ain't like there weren't sixty other ways across! Maybe Ah can give her a piece of mah mind sometime, an' that'll get me two necklaces. Now, Ah've known Pinkie and Fluttershy for years, but that means Ah know them: one can't get her head away from seein' it as a different kind of playtime an' the other one's hiding hers under her own tail, which don't exactly take much work. And Twi? Nice pony somewhere in there, an' that pony needs some encouragement before she comes all the way out for good. Lookin' forward t' knowin' her better. 'specially since Ah've seen 'bout twelve hangups so far an' if we're gonna be friends, Ah'd better find an' be ready t' deal with the other two hundred. So if there's any real fightin' t' be done in this group, Ah'd better be ready t' do all of it. Because in mah very honest opinion, the rest of 'em are mostly gonna be good for gettin' in the way."

She casually shrugged.

"Y'start seein' things a little more clearly when you're not fightin' t' stop eternal darkness. After Sun comes back."

He'd been a sergeant for just about all of his life and in many ways, Celestia was right: he wasn't truly capable of being anything else.

"Next round of kicks," he told her. "You focus too much on your hind legs, and an opponent's going to see that! Let me see what you can do with the fore!"

But it made him somepony who could truly think about what he'd just heard.

As for the other earth pony...

"AND WHAT DO YOU DO WHEN YOU SEE THE ENEMY?"

Curls flounced.

"I wonder why they're so upset," the pink one said, and her tail slowly swept across the grass. "Because something has to be really really wrong if you're going to be somepony's enemy. Did you know that a lot of bad stuff comes from just wanting the wrong thing? Like the Nightmare. It wanted everything to be night forever. And I still don't know how that works, because it was night here, but doesn't that mean Sun was stuck on the other side of the planet? So it couldn't have been night everywhere. Or did Sun just go somewhere? Was it told it could go on vacation? I bet Sun wouldn't mind a vacation. When you think about it, it's never had a single day off! Especially not the 'day' part."

"THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEANT BY --"

"So it's wanting the wrong thing," she thoughtfully added. "At least some of the time. And you just wonder if things would be better if they could just learn to want something else. Like maybe instead of taking over the world, you could take over a candy shop! -- only not the one in Ponyville, because that belongs to Bon-Bon and Lyra. I think they'd get really really upset if somepony tried to take them over. And things happen when Bon-Bon is upset. For starters, she makes licorice. Too much licorice. Oh, and there's dents in things. Sometimes ponies. Which smell like licorice. I don't like licorice. Do you know anypony who does?"

"ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO --"

"Well, Spike likes it. I found that out the other day because I got some in my allsorts bag and I didn't want it, so I offered it to him and he ate it right up! Maybe that's because he's a dragon? He can eat weird things like gems, and what's weirder than licorice? So maybe all dragons like licorice. And maybe the next migration will land in Ponyville and buy all of it from the shop, because that's what they want. Or they could try to take it over. ...maybe we should all get together and watch the next migration. Just in case. And even if it doesn't happen, it's a reason to get together, we can all spend some time with each other and... I think we kind of need that. Because we all like Twilight. I know I do!"

"YOU'RE NOT --"

And he stopped.

"You all like her," he said, and wondered at his own words.

"Yeah! She's hard not to like! Because you see her, and you just know that..."

The huge blue eyes closed. Opened again.

"...she's needed somepony to like her for a really really long time. Somepony who won't be scared off when she doesn't act like everypony else right away. Somepony who'll stay with her. Give her a chance. Let her be wrong about things until she learns how to be right, because... she writes scrolls, did you know that? To the Princess, about things friends do. And they're little things. Foal stuff which she still doesn't know, and... that means everypony has to be patient. Until she does. So I think we all like Twilight, because we all want to make sure she's okay. But... Applejack's my oldest friend, I talk to Rarity sometimes, but..."

Ribs shifted under their natural padding, expanding and contracting through the slow breath.

"We all like Twilight," the earth pony told him. "And I think that's why we came together, when the necklaces had to work. Because we liked her, and maybe while the quest -- fight? -- questfight? -- was still going, we were sort of -- united? But now that's over. And we still all like her, because she needs ponies who will. But I don't know if we all like each other. And if something happened again, if we couldn't come together..."

She was quiet for a moment. Clouds shifted across the sky, making shadows pass over her mark.

"I want all of my friends to be friends," she finally said. "Is that wrong? I don't know. I think it's probably okay, unless I show up wearing armor and shouting 'I am Friendmaker!' But that feels like a story. Somepony else's. And I still don't know how to want something else, so maybe it'll be a story about the time I turned evil. Does that sound weird? I... can't always tell."

"Dragon," Emery chose to reply.

"Yeah! Did you know that you can have a dragon for a little brother? Because he is! Well, Twilight's. Not mine. I just have sisters! ...had. Anyway, Spike's easy to be with. He's just like a real colt! Except for being a dragon. I wish he was here today, but Twilight made him watch the library. Actually, we could have used him with the trees. And the Nightmare. And maybe --"

"-- you had an actual source of firepower and you left it behind?"

The little unicorn was looking at the training dummy. Or rather, at the place where she'd just kicked it.

"Is that good?" she carefully asked. (He'd already noticed that she was the one who was most desperate for any degree of open approval.) "I attacked it..."

Emery took a long long at the very-slightly-indented padding. It sprung back into shape.

"You went to the Gifted School," he said.

"Yes," she proudly stated. "I graduated with --"

"-- and you were the personal student of the General."

"Sorry?" And looked truly apologetic for having questioned anypony who was teaching.

"The Princess," Emery clarified. "You took lessons directly from her. Correct?"

"Yes," the small mare said. "It was a great --"

"THEN WHY DID YOU KICK IT? YOU'RE BARELY THE SIZE OF AN ADOLESCENT! I TOLD YOU TO ATTACK! THE DESIGNER MAY HAVE AN EXCUSE FOR NOT KNOWING COMBAT SPELLS, BUT YOU --"

She was shrinking in on herself, pulling back in a way which made her spine seem to collapse. A small pony steadily becoming even smaller.

"I... didn't study combat spells," she tried. "I'm a researcher. I didn't think I was ever going to --"

"I have seen your test results! I know what your field strength is!"

It was almost too fast to see. The expression didn't settle into her features: it raced across them, banished before she could consciously recognize it had manifested at all.

"...oh," she said, and looked as if she wished to never say anything else again.

"You need to study combat spells! Your learning capacity would allow it! Your life is different now! You need to be capable of practical casting applications! Because when the time comes to protect your group against the strongest of threats, they will look to you, and without that study --"

The little unicorn was starting to shake.

"I can't," The words were emerging far too quickly. "I can't do that. Not when they're around me. Not if they're my friends. Not if they're going to stay my friends, stay near me at all --"

He was a sergeant. In a very real way, he could never be anything else. He spoke from the heart, shouted on instinct and, at that exact moment, bellowed because something less than a whisper had just arisen from the core of his soul.

His mark told him to push, and so he became that much louder.

"YOUR FIELD STRENGTH IS NEAR THE TOP OF THE METER! SIMPLE MANIPULATION, DIRECTED BY YOUR HORN, BECOMES A WEAPON! IF YOU SEE THEM AS YOUR FRIENDS, YOU WILL DO WHATEVER IS NECESSARY TO PROTECT THEM --"

Her horn ignited, and did so at the exact moment her head whipped to the left, facing the mountain.

Emery would carry everything about the next instant for the rest of his life and oddly, any recollection of it always started with the same fact: the pegasus woke up.

"Snirk," the weather coordinator said, or at least that was what it sounded like through the rumbling echoes. And then the fully-exhausted pegasus slipped back into dream.

In a way, the little unicorn didn't move. She stayed exactly where she was, facing the newborn crack in the stone, a gap about half a hoofwidth wide and half as deep, running in a jagged line which stretched about half a body length along the mountain. Something which was possible to overlook, where if you hadn't seen it happen, you might believe it had always been there. But her eyes were closed, the shaking wouldn't stop, and the final words she would say to him before forcing each trembling limb to shift in turn emerged as a whisper.

She wouldn't tell any of her new friends about that crack, or what she said to Emery at the last. Not for years to come.

"I'm protecting them from me."

And then it was the group.

Six mares. Six completely different personalities. The six whom the Elements had chosen. Destiny had pointed a forehoof and so Equestria was, when viewed from a certain perspective, stuck with the results.

He had one session.

"Welcome back!" He looked directly at the cyan mare. "I'm so glad you were willing to rejoin us!"

"Look, I was working on stunts yesterday!" she instantly protested. "And then I had to get up early for this, early, and you can't really nap in an air carriage when somepony's just pulling you along, and I didn't get enough breakfast --"

"I do not care! I have seen how you perform as individuals! Now we are going to see how you act as a group! I have rearranged the remaining training dummies! They have formed an opposing line against you!"

"Ain't nothin'," the farmer snickered. "Buncha woodheads who can't move or think? That's gonna be like beatin' on Rainbow."

Instantly, with tones dropping low into the hiss of challenge, "Say that again."

"Y'heard me. But at least the dummies actually showed up on time --"

"Perhaps," the white unicorn carefully proposed, "we may wish to save this for a later date? Or at least the flight home? The sooner we finish this pointless --"

"-- they're not very interesting dummies, are they?" the baker observed. "They're sort of plain. Except for where they're stained. And smell. Do you know what I think would make them look more like an opposing army? Uniforms! Maybe if Rarity just kicked something together --"

"I do not simply 'kick something together' --"

"-- or Twilight used a spell to make them move! Twilight, can you do that?"

"Wood animation?" the little unicorn quietly asked. "No. They'd just splinter."

"Actually," the designer said, "there is a sort of --"

"You and me," the weather coordinator told the farmer. "We'll see who takes more of those dummies down."

With utter confidence, "Fine. One rule. If'fin y'knock yourself out, that don't count."

"Well, of course that doesn't -- hey!"

"...don't fight." The caretaker was just barely audible. "...we're not supposed to fight each other..."

"SHUT UP!" Emery ordered from the core of his mark, and six mares fell silent. "You all attack when I say 'go'! You use whatever tactics you feel to be appropriate to the situation! You leave no dummy intact! You act as if this is a real fight! Do you understand me?"

The group glanced at each other, then tentatively risked a collective nod.

"Then GO!"

He was, in many ways, a rather old-fashioned sort of pony, even more so than a Princess who had always made an effort to keep her gallop in pace with the times. The focus of his life was directed towards the training of those who might need to fight, and everything else was either secondary or pointless. As such, he'd largely missed the advent of photography, and just barely understood movies to exist as some advanced level of reward system where, if an entire squad of recruits did their best, he might just ask any cinema for the loan of a projector. But he didn't stay in the room, because the film was for the squad. It was their reward and as far as rewards went, he was meant to spend his life as something opposite.

Emery had never really thought about films before, not in any true detail. He'd certainly never considered making or being in one. But there were several new thoughts moving through his mind as he surveyed what remained of the false battlefield, and one of them concerned having overheard that there were awards given to the finest of such creations. Something which was broken down by category.

For the first time in his life, he wished for the retroactive presence of a movie camera. A permanent record of everything which had just finished happening.

Six mares slowly looked at each other. (This took more effort for the farmer, who was having some trouble with her neck.) Began to shakily pick themselves out of the grass.

"So..." the little unicorn finally ventured, her right forehoof desperately trying to push a piece of impacted wood off of her horn, "...how did we do?"

Emery's mouth opened. The grass died. Several trees' worth of leaves decided not to wait for the Running. Twelve clouds dissipated. A nearby mockingbird gave up forever and went off to find some way of changing species.

"...those are interesting words," the caretaker eventually said. "What do they mean?"

"THEY MEAN YOU'RE ALL HOPELESS!"

"...oh." The pegasus visibly thought it over. "...so they're just like all the other words?"

"I have exactly two wishes!" the old sergeant told them. "The first is that somepony with sufficient magical talent will send a film crew back in time to the moment you began the exercise and record all of it! I find myself with a sudden interest in the industry, especially as I am certain that the resulting reel will win the award for Strongest Fiasco in perpetuity!"

"We were doing our best!" the heavily-blinking designer abruptly protested. "I saw everypony here making an effort! The fact that we lack experience in coordinating our --"

"-- your outfits?" He unleashed the derisive laugh. "Isn't that what you're good for? I have two wishes, fillies, and the second is this: that if I could, I would go to the Elements themselves! I would tell them what I have seen here today! And when they heard me, when their magic truly evaluated what you all are, they would do the only thing they could! They would DISCARD you! They would pick somepony WORTHY, which in this case means ANYPONY ELSE IN EQUESTRIA!"

They were all staring at him. Every last one of them, twelve eyes (for the caretaker's mane had just been flipped back) focused in a single direction.

"Don't talk about us like that," Rainbow hissed, with the prismatic tail lashing hard enough to almost dislodge the rather unexpected (and very elaborate) satin bow near the tip. (He would never see her again, and so she could be Rainbow now.) "I saw what Applejack did! She nearly took out as many as me! It's not her fault that the beavers showed up!"

"...that was me," Fluttershy half-whispered. "I think I... took it a little too seriously. Wood dummies, so..."

"Beavers," Twilight slowly said. "Those were beavers?"

"...you can tell by the tail. There's some little streams on the mountain, feeding the waterfalls. And trees. So they try to dam whatever they can, because they're beavers. So I thought... they gnaw through the wood, and we win."

"They don't like loud noises," Pinkie groaned. "They really really don't. And those tails slap hard."

"Ah... think this is a good time t' ask," a stunned Applejack just barely managed, leaning her weight against the nearest tree. "Pinkie -- what was that?"

"My party cannon!"

"Right," the still-half-concussed farmer tried. "An' -- what does it do?"

"It makes parties!" Pinkie reconsidered. "Well, sort of."

"It fires confetti," Rarity stated, and blinked a few more times.

"Right! And I thought, you know, we're pretending these are real enemies and since we can't talk to wood about why it doesn't like us and singing didn't feel right this time, let's pretend they need to see!"

"Yes, Pinkie," Rarity patiently replied. "Many things need to see. Like everypony who was in the direct line of fire." More blinking. "Oh, dear... I think that's most of it, but... Fluttershy, where is that stream? Can you ask a beaver?"

"...I don't think they're coming back..."

"Look," Rainbow huffed, "you slap me with your tail, you get wind in your face. That's just how it works. I've been thinking about that lately. I sort of slept on it. Wind. For disorienting bad guys. And beavers. It only takes a second, and then you hit them fast --"

"Rarity?" the farmer interrupted.

"Yes, Applejack?"

"Ah jus' noticed. There's a bow on mah hat."

"Yes. And in my opinion, had I brought a stronger color selection with me, the new look would be something of an improvem --"

"Why is there a bow on mah hat?"

"...yes," Rarity eventually said. "Well. Like Pinkie, I... took it seriously. And I thought that as I had fabric with me and enemies need to see..."

"We thought of the same thing?" Pinkie enthused.

"We have known each other for some time..."

"That's... interestin'," Applejack considered. "Now, did y'get me by accident, or was it, how should Ah put this, aimed --"

"I'm sorry, everypony," Twilight softly said. "I... I really haven't charged anything before. I think I need more practice."

"You charged down the Nightmare," Rainbow pointed out. "That takes serious guts."

"I was trying to distract her. Keep her from noticing that I was trying to teleport --"

"-- an' if the spell didn't work? 'specially since y'hadn't tried it before then?"

"I don't know. I guess... go for a foreknee?"

"...that's still very brave," Fluttershy said. "Even charging wood is brave, when you know you could hurt your head."

"Oh, horns don't really transmit impact," the little unicorn weakly smiled. "So it's not as good as it looks."

"...still," the shapely pegasus considered. "You could have tried magic, but you charged instead."

"You were nearly all in there already! Rainbow was in the thick of it almost before he finished saying 'go'!" Abashed, "I couldn't try anything without risking hitting somepony."

"We may need to work on an order," Rarity told them. "Who moves first --"

"-- me, obviously!"

"-- thank you, Rainbow. And from what angle. It would require drawing up a pattern. Something similar to a hoofball play diagram."

"An' what," Applejack challenged, "would you know 'bout hoofball?"

"Er..."

Emery nodded, and did so without witnesses, for the mares were once again entirely focused on each other. And then he spoke.

"GET OUT OF HERE!"

The conversation stopped.

"Your pardon?" Rarity lied.

"I WILL BE TELLING THE PRINCESS EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED TODAY! MY EXPERT OPINION OF EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU! I CAN ONLY HOPE ONTO SUN THAT THE GENERAL WILL ACT ON IT! GET OUT OF MY TRAINING PASTURE! YOU AREN'T GUARDS, AND YOU NEVER COULD BE! GET OUT!"

The staring resumed, with that which came from Fluttershy feeling slightly odd.

"Well!" Rarity exclaimed. "If that is how you feel, then let me assure you that the only pony more pleased by the departure is myself!" And began to march away, with the impacts of each hoof nearly Guard-precise.

"Meanie!" Pinkie declared, following the designer's lead. "I'm sick of meanies!"

"Thought y'weren't so bad," Applejack snorted as she strode away. "Not at first. They're tryin' their best! An' Twi, we'll work on that charge."

"I probably shouldn't be charging at all. It didn't do anything..."

"Y'got into the wood. Think 'bout what that would do to a pony -- or don't." A sincere, "Sorry. Didn't think y'were gonna look sick there. Maybe some magic instead?"

"I... don't really do that. Not in a fight..."

"So maybe y'start with a few basic spells? Little stuff."

"Pinching eyelids closed," Rarity suggested. "Or twisting ears."

"I... maybe," the little unicorn said, scrambling to keep up. "Maybe I can do that. To start."

"Precision of use can be of true -- oh, dear. Did anypony see my eyelashes? With all of the blinking, they --"

"...I'll ask some birds to scout," Fluttershy gently offered. "They'll fly them back."

"Thank you, darling. Oh, this day... if we get back while the spa is still open..."

There was a long pause. "...can I join you?"

"Of course you may! Actually, I have spoken to Lotus and Aloe regarding group discounts --"

"-- no hooficures," Rainbow huffed, keeping pace some distance overhead. "Nopony touches the hooves. Luna's tail, that oldster was the worst!"

"Luna's tail?" Twilight asked.

"There's an extra Princess. So now there's extra swears," Rainbow rationalized. "It just makes sense. And he deserves a whole new swear, because he was just that much of a jerk!"

"Horrible," one of them said as the voices began to fade from ready recognition, the group getting that much closer to being out of sight.

"A nightmare. And not even the kind we get to blast!"

"We should have blasted him."

"We can't blast everything."

"We could try."

"I'm not bringing out the Elements just so you can try blasting everything in sight."

"Just one thing. ...today."

"...and he didn't even appreciate that Fluffball was going home..."

"Who's Fluffball?"

"...well..."

"Pinkie? Before I forget."

Almost around the curve now. Almost gone, with the old stallion watching every last hoofstep.

"What?"

"Party cannon?"

"It's still 'Princess,' Sergeant," Celestia told him, raising her voice just enough to get past the sounds of distant hammering.

He held the salute for an extra heartbeat as the warmth of a stray sunbeam played on weathered features and beloved hat, then dropped his foreleg.

"I am curious," she admitted. "Why did you wait a day before coming to see me again?"

"Scrolls, Princess! I wanted to give you time to receive one!"

"It wasn't exactly one," Celestia dryly said. "I think Twilight is seeing the essence of the lesson as 'horrible experiences are easier to deal with when you're with friends.' And can talk about that experience after, with those same friends. Complain, really. I could go so far as to use another word, but I always feel like pulling out the deeper vocabulary is a little pointless around a true expert."

His response was another salute.

She took a deep breath.

"Sergeant," she carefully said, "do you recognize that the horrible experience was, in fact, you?"

"Yes, Princess!"

And he smiled.

It was a rather unique smile. It was wide. Toothy. It almost creaked as rusty muscles reluctantly shifted position, and the effort suggested by this might have taken ten years off of his life.

"They are not Guards! They never will be! And their bonds need time to deepen, for they are currently new and somewhat fragile! I have trained generations, and so I know friendships develop most quickly during traumatic experiences, Princess, something they all go through together, and the Nightmare is gone! That experience is over! So as you have said, I provided a new horrible experience! For I am the crisis, and so they are deepening their bonds through uniting against a common enemy! Which was me! The fighting part will come in due time!"

She was staring at him.

"They'll keep talking about you for days," Celestia slowly told him. "They may even dream of killing you. All of them."

"Rumors suggest Princess Luna could verify that!"

Celestia settled into the cushions of her throne. Tilted her head slightly to the right, and the old mare regarded the stallion through new eyes.

"Never change, Emery," she told him. "Never change."

Author's Note

Dedicated to R. Lee Ermey.