Onhoovers Army Camp was… less impressive than Blueblood had imagined in his mind. They could have at least used a castle.

The camp was nestled in a green valley. Rows of narrow wooden buildings and stocky brick structures boxed in a grassy commons. More detail resolved itself as Alfalfa continued to navigate the road. Blueblood cursed as they went over another bump.

“Alfalfa, the moment, the moment, you get back; I want you to bring this to get cleaned.”

“Understood your highness,” the exact same response he had used the last three times.

Blueblood looked back out the window; and smiled. It was a pretty valley though. He wondered if they would do mock battles here. His minds latched onto different features in turn; picturing how he would array his soldiers to hold or take them. His imaginings flickered between walls of pikes and rifles; between changelings swarms, dragons, and reds.

He blinked when the car jerked to a stop. A brick building with the words ‘Intake’ written on it in white paint. Blueblood got out, and straightened his suit; Alfalfa went to the back to get his luggage. Blueblood did a walk around his car; fussing over its scratches and dust. Alfalfa was done quickly; and his two suitcases were neatly placed. That had been another sticking point; the recruiter had made it quite clear that he could only have two suitcases of personal effects. Far, far too little, but he had been clear. He had also been clear that servants were not allowed.

Blueblood turned to stiffly face Alfalfa. Alfalfa had a slight frown creasing his face.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to join…?”

Blueblood hesitated a moment, but shook his head

“You are to manage the house while I am occupied.”

Alfalfa stood quiet for a moment, before he bowed, turned and left. The tension eased from Blueblood as he turned back to the brick facade; his smile blooming once more. The urge to prance flowed through him. It would be a foalish thing to do; so he assumed a good posture and waited.

Soon a uniformed unicorn came out; looking down at his levitating clipboard. Blueblood started, nonplussed. The uniform was awful. It was like someone had found a mechanics jumpsuit and dyed it the royal gold; except they had used some bargain bin paint so it looked more yellow than the gold plate of the royal guard. An ‘2S’ was sewn onto the collar in blocky white lettering. The unicorn looked up from his clipboard; and blinked, and spoke in a neat canterlot accent.

“Huh? How are you here so early?”

It took a moment for Blueblood to marshal his thoughts.

“I drove.”

The unicorn tilted his head, before looking up the hill at the retreating car.

“You’re supposed to take the bus.”

Blueblood puffed his chest; and smiled.

“The instructions said orientation started at nine, and the bus was leaving at eight, not that I had to be on the bus.”

The unicorn stared at Blueblood; opened his mouth, paused, then shrugged.

“Fair I suppose, well you’ll have to wait around.”

The soldier went back to looking over his clipboard. Blueblood interjected his fears.

“Is that the uniform?”

“Pardon?” He replied, not looking up. Blueblood spoke up, a tinge of irritation entering his voice.

“Is that the Onhooves uniform?”

“Yes”

Blueblood bounced between wanting to snap at the unicorn's curtness; or to ruminate on that he would be forced to wear that, but a growing roar had them looking up at the bus rolling down the hill. The soldier spoke up.

“Well since you're here, you may as well form the start of the que.”

Blueblood moved to be in front of the soldier; but he kept his head turned to watch the bus approach. Blueblood’s brows knit, first the uniform and now this. It was… pedestrian. It looked like any number of buses he had seen in Canterlot or Manehattan. It stopped and the rest of the recruits, twenty or so, filed off. Most, he judged, were of lower and middling backgrounds; but he judged a few to be of finer stock. He had been expecting as much when he learned that officer cadets had to go through the basic training with the enlisted. He turned to face the door… gatekeeper? Soldier? The pony coughed then started up in a bureaucratic tone.

“Hello recruits ; I am Specialist Deep Cellar. Today you all began your journey in her majesty's army. You will enter through the door behind me in an orderly fashion. You will go through processing; please have all the documents you were asked to bring ready. After that you will drop off your luggage at your barracks; for you that will be 15B. You will return here and be directed towards the medical office; or towards the quartermaster's office. You will go through more medical testing; or receive your kit. You are to follow the instructions of all staff. Are there any questions?”

A frown had entrenched itself on Blueblood’s face at the brief instruction. Maybe this was just training camp; officer school would surely be better. He thought about asking when they would be issued weapons; but decided against it. Deep Cellar waited a moment longer before continuing.

“Remember one at a time. Welcome to Onhoovers Army Camp,” and in a tone that was less boilerplate, “good luck.”

A single desk clerk, a gray pegasus, greeted them in the narrow room the recruits filed into. Blueblood strode up first.

“Name?”

“Prince Blueblood”, loud and clear, he was gratified at the quiet murmurs he heard behind him. The clerk nodded.

“Provincial I.D?”

So began the slow wheels of bureaucracy. At one point he was given a document to look through and sign. Blueblood gripped it with his magic and made as if to hoof it off to a pony behind him. He blinked, and jerked it back to his front, hoping nobody had noticed. He looked through and signed the document. The last few things were confirmed; and he moved towards his barracks. The pathways between the various buildings were hard baked dirt; he wondered how they kept them dry during rain.

He had to go past a few rows of barracks and other buildings to get there. He saw other more senior recruits bustling about in front of their barracks; forming ranks in front of instructors. It was confirmed that yes, those unadorned, ugly things were the uniforms. It would have been difficult to tell the instructors and recruits apart; if the instructors hadn’t been wearing hats. He watched as ranks of yellow formed. Ugly? Certainly, but they did have a charm in ranks. He supposed chickens could look impressive in a mass. He passed further into the camp; seeing less and less recruits and instructors as he got deeper. Until he found 15B.

When he entered; he gaped in mute horror at the thin wooden interior. Row upon rows of narrow beds and foot lockers were packed like match boxes. There were no night stands; and there was barely enough room on either side for night stands. He felt something poke him from behind and he mutely moved aside; the student that passed through gave him an odd look. Surely… surely… they couldn’t expect him to live like this? Like cattle? He had better conditions camping. Another student filed in. Well there had been that one hike he had been convinced to go on; where they had to make do with less provisions. That had been similar… maybe- maybe this was temporary. Blueblood shuddered, and moved to his bed; laying his suitcases atop his bed.

He hurriedly made his way out of the match box and to the doctor's office. The doctor was a grizzled earth pony; and was acceptably competent Blueblood decided. More was involved in the testing then he first thought. The doctor's office had a space like a gym; and he was made to go through tests. After the doctor confirmed he was up to snuff with his shots; the results were marked down and he was sent on his way. Blueblood still wished they had let him send his own physician's results.

The quartermaster was a rake thin unicorn; who proffered a backpack without a word to Blueblood. Inside there were a few changes of the uniform, a canteen, a rain jacket(in the same yellow), a flashlight, and a small utility knife; and the backpack itself was apparently his. Blueblood did not like the uniform any better on him. The front sleeves were too tight, and it was looser than he liked around his barrel. The mirror he conjured showed that even he struggled to make the outfit work. He wondered if the army would let him bring it to his tailor. He would fix the fit, add holes for his cufflinks, and loosen the collar so his amulet would fit better; while he was at it he could also change the color and…

These musings where interrupted by a voice behind him

“I don't think you're supposed to wear those.”

Blueblood finished latching on his gold watch; and a subtle wave of ivory magic flowed over him. Wood Walker’s Greater Ward against Pests flowed out. He could see a bug that had been scuttling above ground freeze; then rapidly fled. He turned to look down at the light brown pegasus. He was clad in the tight plain cotton; by that, and his accent Blueblood placed him as from the Cloudsdales docks. Blueblood raised an eyebrow. The pegasus shrank a little; looking more hesitant.

“I haven’t seen any of the staff wearing jewelry…,” he continued in a more hesitant tone.

Blueblood considered a moment, before his eye brow was joined by a mocking smile.

“Well I suppose I'll let the instructors inform me of such a rule.”

The pegasi flushed with embarrassment; and backed off. Blueblood noticed the looks of some recruits. Somewhere amused, some reproachful; but they went back to what they were doing.

Soon Blueblood, and the rest of the recruits were milling inside the barracks. The recruits had broken up into small groups, chatting and laughing and wondering when the instructor would arrive. Blueblood busied himself trying to get his things packed away; cursing the recruiter that hadn’t bothered to tell him how big the two suitcases should be. It helped distract him from the stragglingly small space; and the plethora of loud, rough accents and odors that filled it. He was making some headway when a loud voice rang through the barracks.

“Recruits! Get your flanks out here!”

Despite the harshness of speech; there was a clang of iron to the tone that had him perk up. Leaving his suitcases and foot locker; he was one of the first out the door.

The unicorn standing at parade rest was broad and gruff, like a black bear, and was glowering at the lot of them. He almost made the uniform look serious. The gaggle of recruits globbed into a semi circle in front of him. He roared again:

“This isn’t story time; form ranks.”

Blueblood placed himself front and center, and stood still; eyes fixed on the unicorn. The group shuffled about more around him; some confusion about whether to form 1, 2 or 3 ranks. They settled on two ranks, but struggled to get them straight; undulating until they managed ragged lines. The front lining next to Blueblood; and the second rank copying the first. The uniformed unicorn looked on with a flat expression.

“I’ve seen school foals form better ranks; but I suppose it will have to do,” he tapped his chest, “I am sargeant Broadflag; I am your instructor. In your time here; you will become part of the first Onhooves divisions.”

He looked over the crowd with a stern look. Blueblood’s eyes were bright.

“I know to some of you; this may seem like merely an easy way to get a government pension. It will be anything but. Should the changelings come again, should the buffalos break the peace, or should any other threat knocks at our door; you may, if diplomacy fails, need to fight the threat off,” he paused for a moment; Blueblood nodded along.

“You will be taught hoof to hoof fighting, the use of explosives, and the use and maintenance of weapons. You will be taught how to fight shapeshifters; that can go from a crowd doing some market shopping; to a ravenous horde of chitin and gunpowder. You will be taught how to resist a buffalo charge,” he shook his head, “you better hope in harmony that our peace continues. They are twice the height of the tallest of you; and the smallest thrice your weight. They could crush every bone in your body to powder and not notice they trampled you. You will be taught more besides-”

One pony spoke up. Blueblood glanced over. The gray earth pony that spoke shifted hoof to hoof; his expression drawn and heavy.

“Why-?”

“Recruit! I was not finished. Let that be the first lesson, until you know I am finished; you will not interrupt.”

Pony looked down crestfallen.

“You will also be expected to learn, and follow army regulations. Your second lesson…”

His eyes, which had been looking up and down the line, landed on Blueblood. Blueblood, despite himself, shrank back.

“What is your name recruit?”

“Prince Blueblood”

He didn’t look surprised.

“Well Bluie, your uniform isn’t following army regulations. Which you might have guessed had you looked at any other personnel at this camp.”

At ‘Bluie’, Blueblood looked poleaxed; only to flushed at the insult; driven deeper by the snicker he heard behind him. He sputtered for a moment.

“That,” A shuddering inhale, “is not my name.”

“The amulet can stay; but all the other jewelry has to come off”

“They are enchanted!”

Broadflag smiled at him; it was not pleasant.

“Well then I suppose you can keep wearing them.”

Blueblood blinked, but did not relax; he knew that tone. He had used it.

“If you want to look all glitzy; I know a place that could use some decorations; the rest of us will head to the mess hall for supper; and you will clean the barracks toilets.”

Blueblood paled, flushed, and paled again in turn.

“That is an order, come on the rest of you, hurry.”

Some looked shocked as they left, some looked at him in sympathy, some laughed at him; including the brown pegasus. Blueblood stood quietly as the group moved out of sight; before he gave a firm nod. He turned towards the barracks.

He was glad in retrospect that he hadn’t finished packing. He started repacking. How dare Broadflag treat him like that; how dare any of them treat him like this. He ground a silk shirt between his hooves. He turned for the bathroom. Before he repacked he would not spend another moment in this damned uniform. The bathrooms fit the rest of this dump. Plain, ugly tile, with primitive fixtures; with a dingy mirror reflecting the pathetic room. He sneered at the toilets; his horn lit up and he began to unbutton his uniform. He did not belong here; he belonged back in a civilized place. He would return to Canterlot first-

A memory of a disappointed face floated through his mind. His horn flickered out. Well that hadn’t stopped him in the past. He began pacing the bathroom. Moreover he had been lied to, deceived; he would be justified in turning his back on all this nonsense. He stopped and his horn lit up. Giving up on all this nonsense. His horn went out. He remembered the Broadflag watching them gauging their reactions to his brutal speech. He would be failing.

He shook his head; but the thought refused to leave. He would have been driven out at the first hurdle. No- no he wouldn’t. This was just like the other times he had quit his other hobbies; he was bored of it and was lied to. He started pacing again. Well those other times he hadn’t been lied too; but that just meant he had even more justifiable reason!

Stern to inflict and stubborn to endure.

The quote rang through his mind. The words that the poet had used in his praise of Cursebreaker. He looked at the toilet; mouth curling. Cursebreaker hadn’t been degraded and humiliated in such a way.

He stood a time like that. Before his horn flicked on, and he redid his buttons. He stared at the scrub brush next to the toilet. He levitated it like it was a dead snake.

Author's Note

My upload schedule is evolving; backwards.

Next one should be quicker