Onhoovers army camp was located in what weather pegasi called a ‘dumping site’. Where various weather patterns lost cohesion and sputtered out of existence. It resulted in chaotic, if usually mild, weather.

Broadflag started battle drills on an unusual day. As the rain pounded down like a stampede of buffalo; they were organized into a loose diamond formation. They were to advance at a walk; and when Broadflag shouted out something like ‘12 o’clock, 150 meters, enemy in the open.’ They would scrabble for cover, or if there was nothing nearby; drop prone. Over and over again; up and down the valley. He insisted on strict adherence to orders, even more so than usual. ‘Your officers will need you to follow orders in the field strictly, promptly, and fully.’ This caused grumbles; but made perfect sense to Blueblood. An artist couldn’t have their paint shape itself; a chess player couldn’t have his piece moving on its own initiative. They needed to stay where they were placed. Broadflag started them as he meant to go on.

How to respond to an ambush, how to form square, how to retreat under fire, how to advance under fire, how to dig and defend a trench; and more. Over and over, again; in all conditions.

Blueblood liked them. The trained quick response to orders, the physical regimen, the running and firing drills, and a dozen other things all found their purpose. He enjoyed excelling at his part in a maneuver. He shared in the platoon’s whoop of triumph(or tired relieved sigh) when Broadflag admitted they had become ‘barely acceptable’. He shared in the looks of horror when they were ordered to dig another trench 3 meters in front of the last, the wilting when Broadflags shouted ‘you’re going to get trampled or eaten if…’, the aches that invaded every muscle, in their envying of the other platoons, and in the groaning about the army, training, and Broadflag. Misery certainly loved company, and perhaps a platoon.

It was after one particularly nasty day, while he was drifting off to sleep, that he mused that if Broadflag had ordered them to march another mile; half the platoon would have to be carried back. He remembered that tired thought the next day, and it built upon itself until another realization struck him. Officer cadets training with the normal recruits, while onerous, was intelligent. His time at the army camp, his time during training, was like casting farsight to see inside a running engine. He could see all the parts in action. How they worked, why they worked, and what one could expect of them.

Of course, sometimes the answer was: not much.

One day when they had been going to fire their daily rounds at the range. The platoon that was scheduled before them was still there. He saw that many of them were not going through their drills while their instructor was right there. He trotted ahead and asked why. The answer was simple: ‘The sergeant says we can pass the marksponyship evaluations; so why would we?’

The more he looked; the more he found that attitude, that apathy, to pervade most of the camp.

--

Wet uniforms were draped over everywhere in the barracks; when they were not held up by their owner in front of the woodstove or Blueblood’s watch.

His watch’s new purpose had come about as the weeks passed, and the weather trended worse and temperature dropped. Blueblood considered, and decided that he couldn’t wear it, let alone use its heating enchantment, so he might as well put it to use. With the help of some of the other unicorns, and an earth pony; the gold watch rested in a magic circle, chiseled onto a stone slab. The input and output they were demanding of the watch made him wince; but the temperature had risen from ‘livable’ to ‘toasty’.

None of this was on Blueblood’s mind at the moment. His focus wasn’t the slowly frying runes of his watch, or the weather, or the slight ache in his horn from casting cleaning spells; it was their slow to start card game. He saw Shift Taker glance up at the door again; a frown creasing her face. Shift Taker’s cutie mark was a magnifying glass hovering over a clock. It referred to her excellent internal clock and her skill at estimating how long a task would take a creature(apparently she had been on the fast track for a manager position for some restaurant in Hoofington before joining the army). Now, she kept glancing at the door, muttering about how ‘he should have been back by now’.

His reverie was interrupted when the door at the end of the barracks opened; and Set Score slipped in like a burglar after a heist. He almost trotted over to the table; his wet and muddy fur dripping onto the floor. Blueblood shot a wave of ivory magic at him, dissolving the filth right before he slid into a chair. The mud obscuring his cutie mark, a score board displaying 100-0, sloughed off.

“Wipe your hooves before you come in. This place is filthy enough as it is.” Blueblood protested; rubbing his scalp around his horn.

“Understood Admiral Warchief. You have to-“

Blueblood’s face stiffened just a bit; but he bit his tongue. It was getting easier to do that. Shift Taker set her cards down, and leaned forward with knitted brows.

“Where were you? You’ve been gone for an extra half hour; even with the margin of error.”

Poplane looked Set Score over; then he frowned and chipped in.

“Where is the chocolate? Is the quartermaster out?”

“I got something better than chocolate,” Shift Taker said loudly, “I got gossip.”

Shift Taker groaned at that. Poplane sighed in disappointment. Wander wind set down her cards; leaning forward. Blueblood kept looking at his cards, but his ears perked up. The recruits not at the table turned at the loud declaration. Set Score puffed himself up like a circus ringleader. He had gone to some public school Blueblood had never heard; and was allegedly a hoofballer of some repute.

“Gather around; you’ll want to hear this.”

By ones and twos; the platoon gathered. Set Score waited until they were all close; before he started in a low voice.

“So I was going to the quartermaster; and I heard some talking in the mess hall; so I went to the door. The voices sounded mad; but it was really muffled. So I couldn’t make much out. But I thought I heard ‘inspection’. That sounded bad; so I decided to sneak in through the kitchens.”

There were gasps, mutters, and long whistles at that from the crowd. Blueblood was shocked still. Shift Taker looked at Set Score with a mix of admiration and disapproval. Set Score shot her a cocky smile; before continuing.

“One hit with a rock and the kitchen lock popped open. I waited, to see if they heard the rock. But the voices kept talking. So I went in; and put my ear to the bottom of the door. It was Swift Wing-”

Poplane’s tongue loosened.

“The commandant is back?”

Set Score nodded, with a broad smile

“Yeah and she sounded really mad.”

That surprised the platoon; with some expressing disbelief. The commandant had a smile and cheery attitude whenever they had seen her.

“I swear on my cutie mark; she sounded like a hornet had crawled up her flank,” Blueblood winced at the colorful description.

“I think she was talking to the drill sergeants; I didn’t recognize all the voices; but some of them were definitely drill sergeants. Anyway, she was saying things like ‘they need a boot up their flanks’. It took me a bit to figure it out; wasn’t there at the start of the meeting. But she is planning a surprise inspection of the entire camp tomorrow; at lights out. She wanted all infractions punished on the spot.” He looked around the gathered platoon, “so I’m thinking we can clean up around here; make sure everything is on the up and up. Pass with flying colors and go to sleep”

There was a murmur of approval from the platoon. Shift Taker was looking at Set Score with a rosy smile. Blueblood paled, then flushed. It took him a moment to speak past the anger that was choking him.

“You idiot,” he snapped, glaring at Set Score. That quieted the room; faces turning to look at the livid stallion. Most looked bemused, or amused; but Poplane’s eyes narrowed in thought, and Wander Wind tilted her head with a frown. Set Score turned to face Blueblood with a cocky smile. When he saw Blueblood’s expression; he hesitated. His words came out more defensive than joking.

“Do you have a Hornet problem too?’

Blueblood took a breath before he spoke.

“When Broadflag comes in here, and sees everything neat; what will he think?”

Poplane now looked horrified. Wander Wind had her eyes closed; and was mouthing a count. Set Score’s grin was undercut by doubt.

“We don’t have to make it perfect; just clean up a bit.”

Shift Taker began to look just as angry as Blueblood felt. Blueblood continued, relentless.

“It is not just that. When the inspection comes, Broadflag will see we are not surprised, and he will know one of us eavesdropped.”

Set Score’s manner reminded Blueblood of tragic plays where a character bargains with Death.

“We keep secrets from Broadflag-” he gestured at the heating watch. Blueblood shook his head, cutting off further words.

“There is a difference between keeping a straight face; and faking an emotion with enough skill to trick Broadflag. I don’t think we are all secretly con ponies and professional actors.” He glanced around, ”are we?”

A silence descended. Blueblood watched the truth of his words travel like a plague through the platoon. Set Score opened and closed his mouth several times; before slumping down in his seat.

“I’ll have to fess up to Broadflag,” he said with a sigh. Blueblood blinked, anger retreating. He thought back to the relevant sections of the army regulations.

“This isn’t a normal infraction. It would go to Swift Wing.” Blueblood paused, “if she is in as foul a temper as you say… it is within her rights to have you discharged”

There was a heavy silence, and a deep pain in Set Score’s eyes. His frown deepened; and with another sigh he shook his head.

“Either Broadflag finds out somehow; and everyone here gets it for trying to hide it. Or he doesn’t; and he keeps smoking the platoon for who knows how long. None of you deserve that.”

The silence grew heavier. Somepony coughed and turned away. The huddle began to break up. Some looked sad; some relieved. Some tried conversation; but it was strangled by the quiet. Some approached to offer condolences, or a ‘good luck’. Poplane made a brief appeal for him to change his mind; but after Set Score firm denial he backed off. Shift Taker stayed at her seat; looking torn.

Blueblood also stayed at his seat. It was logical; he supposed. Whatever came would be the result of Set Score’s own poorly thought out actions. Blueblood began tapping his hoof on the table. A thought occurred to him to try making his own false confession before Set Score could; but Blueblood’s mind poked holes in that plan even as it formed. Moreover, he didn’t want to risk getting kicked out of the army. Maybe he could try to give a crash course on acting? Maybe-

An actual plan struck Blueblood. He laughed, loud and deep. Heads turned in confusion. He saw hurt add its weight to Set Score’s shoulders. Blueblood spoke in a light, quiet voice.

“I have been away from Canterlot for too long.” His voice rose, “I have a much better plan. We tell everyone.”

“What?” Somepony, Blueblood couldn’t tell who, said.

“All we have to do, or preferably just one or two of us; is anonymously spread the news throughout the entire camp. If we do it right; it will be nearly impossible to trace it back to Set Score. We don’t have to act surprised; just keep a straight face.”

Hope flickered across Set Score’s face, It went out a moment later, and he shook his head.

“Swift Wing sounded very mad. I wasn’t exaggerating that. From how she was talking… I think if that happened she would punish the whole camp.”

Blueblood paused a moment before speaking in a careful, precise tone.

“Why does that matter?”

There was another stunned silence at that; with most of the platoon looking at him like he was mad, or malevolent. Poplane broke the silence.

“We can’t get hundreds of ponies punished for Set Score’s mistake.” He turned an apologetic look towards Set Score, but he was nodding along, “It would be mean and unfair.”

Blueblood looked around; the platoon was nodding along and voicing their agreement. The only one that looked intrigued with his proposal was Shift Taker. Blueblood rose to his hooves, mixing and weighing the elements of his speech; he did not have long to plan. He readied his voice; not loud, but carrying. It cut through the chatter.

“Unfair, I suppose we would know a good deal about that.” The room quieted; but it was a fragile quiet. He forged on; sounding confident, decisive.

“The other platoons are lazy and apathetic; they don’t try. You have seen it; I have seen it. They put in the bare minimum of effort; just enough to scrape by so they meet their qualification and graduate. Their instructors treat them like foals.

“Set Score made a… poor decision; but he did so to help the platoon. Something they would not do for their platoons, let alone ours.” He looked Set Score in the eyes, who jumped a little.

“You always quote your coach. ‘Give 110%’. I know I said I thought it was a ridiculous phrase. However; I cannot deny you try to live up to it.” He turned away to look over the crowd, “Can anyone deny that? Remember that ravine we had to cross, and how he hauled the most ponies across it; in the driving rain? Are we actually proposing trading a little of their discomfort for his career?”

He let the silence hang. Most no longer looked at him like he was crazy. Their gazes were directed inward. He saw some tentatively nodding along with his words. Set Score frowned deeply; shifting in his seat. Shift Taker was nodding along with a smile. Wander Wind was watching him, silent and inscrutable. Poplane was shaking his head; opening his mouth. Blueblood drove on.

“Even if it is a little rough. Won’t that do them some good? What was the commandant’s phrase? ‘A good kick in the flank’? Might toughen them up a bit. Prompt them to start taking their training with due seriousness.”

More and more of the platoon was nodding along. Poplane was still frowning.

“We don’t even know for certain that the commandant will punish the camp. Usually she is quite genial. But I would bet my family estate that Broadflag will come down like a hammer on Set Score, or all of us.”

Poplane spoke, his words were halting.

“What were you thinking?”

Blueblood smiled; and turned to Wander Wind.

“Would you be willing to help me?”

Wander Wind tilted her head; before speaking in her melodious, apparently accentless voice.

“I would be willing to help.”

“Excellent,” he turned to the rest of them, “For the rest of you I will need-”

So they gathered around him; listened to what he said, and agreed to follow his instructions. Despite the risk, the dozen or so things that could go wrong; he fell asleep easily(as much as he ever could here).

--

It was about two hours after lights out. Large, too bright mage lights lit the camp’s common. It illuminated the sweating, groaning recruits. The sounds of bitter recruits, shouting sergeants, and night insects filled the night. Thankfully it wasn’t raining. Perhaps because Swift Wing was too angry to think of having a rainstorm organized. Anger wafted off her like a heat haze; with her jaw stiff as iron, and her wing splayed out and twitching. Anger, but undirected anger.

With Wander Wind’s magic, spreading the rumors had been easy, and it would take Con Mane to figure out who had started them. It had been nerve wracking when Broadflag first entered; but he had only looked to confirm, yes they knew about the rumors, before he ordered them to form up for review on the green. Swift Wing had demanded to know who had started the rumors. It had been a tense minute as Swift Wing looked over the crowd. Broadflag, as was proper for a platoon’s leader during a formal review, stood at the front, facing forward; only occasionally glowering back at them. Thankfully, she hadn’t cared to do a thorough investigation; and started the punishments.

The platoons began finishing up the current batch of jumping jacks; until they all settled back onto the ground. Some ponies, some whole platoons, swayed like grass in the breeze. Blueblood’s platoon reformed with more grace; but there was still plenty of panting and streaks of sweat. Drill sergeants; most of them as tired and grumpy as their recruits; paced around their platoons. Swift wing looked over the crowds. There was a pause; the entire body of recruits braced themselves for another exercise.

“You’re all dismissed, get back to your barracks.” She ground out in her Severnayian accent, before turning away to stomp back to her quarters.

The recruits took the lifeline with all four hooves; and fled, fearing she might change her mind. When they filed into the barracks; there was no cheering. Blueblood had told them not too; but he needn’t have bothered. They were too tired for any great excitement. However as ponies passed his bed; he got pats on the back from wings and hooves. In a less tired state he might have protested; but instead he accepted the crude compliments. As Set Score passed he paused; opened his mouth, paused again, before saying.

“Thanks Blueblood.”

“You are welcome.”

He passed on up on the line. Blueblood finished stipping off his uniform and crawled into bed. He Shut his eyes; and fell asleep at once.

Blueblood dreamed. He could not quite remember what; but he had plate armor, a sword, and a voice.

Author's Note

In my defense. I had a chapter done two weeks ago. It was edited and proof read.

But the more I thought about; I determined it would weaken the story. So I wrote this instead. As always, hope you enjoy; any thoughts would be appreciated.