It was two days after the inspection incident. The platoon was currently on a small hill; with the plains and copses of the valley stretching around it. There had been an early frost that morning; and here and there it clung on, hiding in shadows, from the now intense sun.

Blueblood was hunkered down on top of it. Wooden practice rifle trained on the ‘changeling enemy’; which was ‘hiding’ in a small crop of woods near the hill.

The training scenario was simple enough. A group of ‘changelings’ had taken up residence in the woods. One platoon would approach directly from camp, another would swing wide and be the hammer. Broadflag had told them all that a week ago, and they had run through both halves of the exercise.

Blueblood had marched that morning to the staging ground, a spot a little ways outside of camp, with a spring in his step. The platoon arrived and stood in ranks, and waited and waited. Ten minutes later the other platoon they would be training with marched up. Blueblood’s face had been stiff as a statue; with about as much warmth.

They were about thirty in number. Numbers were the only superiority they had. Their marching ranks were loose and wavering; with irregular gaps opening and closing in their lines. The precise step that Army regulations demanded of them was poorly imitated. Looking more like they were strolling than marching. Blueblood whispered under his breath.

“Here we got again, same old thing again.” and frowned. They were certainly not keeping time. They stopped opposite Blueblood’s platoon and they fell out of rank into a heap of yellow. A teal coated pegasi instructor led them. He had a cow-like expression and he did not glance back once at his trainees.

Blueblood’s face brightened a moment later. Heartrock was at the back of the heap. He stood out like a guard dog among house pets. After that first night the pair had stopped staying up so late. Now Heartrock came over to his platoon’s mess table and had brief chats during meals.

Heartrock noticed him a moment later, and waved at him. Blueblood returned a very small nod. Heartrock blinked, confused, before comprehension, and envy flashed across his face.

Their sergeant, Stonehopper as Blueblood later learned, plodded up to Broadflag. Broadflag stood, shoulders and back tense, as they started to converse. Blueblood had to restrain his smile at watching Broadflag, for once, tamp down on his anger. The longer he had watched the scene, and Stonehopper’s face, which remained impassive, that the impulse left him. A few seconds later Stone Hopper turned to address his platoon. Blueblood had blinked in surprise as he explained what the plan was. Blueblood scanned their faces and blinked again. From their expression this was the first time they were hearing it.

Broadflag had turned back and said they would be the hammer. So Blueblood’s platoon, as the plan called for, set out a few minutes before the anvil; Set Score and Shifttakerranging ahead as scouts. That at least had been fun. They advanced quickly. Part because their drills paid dividends and part because Broadflag had loosen the restriction on magic. One red unicorn named Hot Charcoal briefly froze a path on a lake so they didn’t have to circumnavigate it. Blueblood for his part kept the worst of the flies off. Other unicorns chipped with other spells where they could. Broadflag still forbade spells like a wind or rain shields; or other highly visible spells.

Then they had arrived; to their surprise, ahead of the other platoon. The plan was that the anvil would engage the ‘enemy’ before they arrived. However, as Broadflag had instructed them, short of a unicorn with communication magic; that such operations timing could be thrown off. So they hunkered down, rifles trained on the forest and waited.

That had been thirty minutes ago. Twenty minutes ago Broadflag had left to find out what was happening. His platoon was at the bottom of the hill now. Blueblood was the only one still in the position Boradflag had left them in. Not from lack of Set Score’s trying.

Blueblood heard the sound of hooves approaching but still he stiffened for a moment when he felt a hoof land on his shoulder. He turned his head to see said pony. Set Score smiled down at him, wooden rifle on his back. While he was quite cheerful, there was a tinge of concern in his eyes.

“You sure you don’t want to come down? I’m pretty sure you shot all the changelings.”

Blueblood looked back at the forest. His mouth twisted; not quite settling on a smile or frown. Set Score hadn’t removed his hoof. Blueblood took a breath and spoke.

“No thank you,” he repeated himself, “I am still on thin ice with Broadflag. I don’t wish to risk it.”

“Broadflag can’t be too angry about this. I think he’ll be far more busy being angry at Stone Hopper,” Set Score chuckled, “can you imagine how angry he is right now? He looked ready to bite him off when he left.

Blueblood smiled at the image.

“That may be. However, I will remain up here.”

Set Score sighed and turned around; hoof beats retreating down the hill. Blueblood sighed to himself and turned to glance back at his platoon, who would be chatting about this and that, commiserating about being stuck out here. His eyes caught on a brown pegasi. His name was Dust Cloud; the pony that Blueblood had… dismissed on the first day. He was on the side of the hill. Close to the bottom but not quite off it. With his rifle trained upon the ‘enemy’. Blueblood frowned.

Dust Cloud was a private pony, shy; but well enough liked for all that. He fit into the platoon well. Well enough that Blueblood could give himself some grace; but regardless he had taken too long. It was unwise and… dishonorable.

Blueblood rose to his hooves and trotted over to the pegasi. When he got up he saw Set Score turn his way but Blueblood waved him off. He sidled up alongside Dust Cloud and coughed. Dust Cloud started and gasped, and rolled to his side to look at Blueblood. Almost tipping over. A few quips came to mind but Blueblood dismissed them, and spoke with a smile.

“Well I suppose we can start there. I apologize for startling you.”

“Oh-,” Dust Cloud hastily got to his hooves, “-isn’t a problem.”

“And,” Blueblood’s tone became more serious and formal. Blueblood knew how best to apologize; even if he rarely had cause too. “I must apologize for my behavior on the first day.”

Dust Cloud, having recovered, made as if to wave off the apology. Blueblood neatly cut him off.

“I apologize for dismissing your advice and your person on the first day. I judged you as clay when you were iron ore. It was a failure of bother judgement and perception on my part. I can only plead that the camp was a rather alien and discordant environment so I was rather rattled. If there is something I can do for you, name it.”

Dust Cloud stared at Blueblood; a little wide eyed. Blueblood repressed a wince. Perhaps he had over done it. Iron, for all its qualities, was not known for its polish. The platoon’s(and camp) general lack of it was something he still wasn’t used to. Blueblood coughed and modulated his tone. Then, a bit stiffly, he clapped Dust Cloud on the shoulder.

“I’m Sorry. Where are platoon mates; here to learn and work together. I don’t want any ill will between us.”

That, to Blueblood satisfaction, worked. Dust Cloud mostly relaxed and returned Blueblood’s smile.

“Yeah, if you want it. Apology accepted.”

There was silence then, which threatened to turn awkward, so Blueblood summoned a topic he had made good use of here. Back in Canterlot, bringing up money in an idle conversation would’ve been gauche.

“So what is it you did for work?” A little more tension went out of Dust Cloud, and he spoke with a smile.

“Oh I was a glass blower.”

Blueblood blinked a little too long. Dust Cloud, thankfully, had not noticed Blueblood’s surprise. He continued, still with a smile, but a shadow had fallen over him and his words.

“Did it since I was fourteen. Well back then I was just helping with hauling wood and gusting wind into the furnace. Hualing everything actually, and the cleaning never stopped, you know?” Blueblood did, “But later I started making glass work. By the time I turned fifteen I was already making vases and statuettes.

There was a glow of pride in those last words. The undercurrent, the shadow over his countenance only deepened. He seemed ready to prattle on, but he caught himself and glanced over at Blueblood. He smiled and spoke up.

“An excellent craft,” Blueblood enthused, “tell me was your family involved with the tapestry table?”

Dust Cloud nodded.

“Yes, my… I’m not sure how many greats, grandmother, was apart of the project. How do you know about that?”

“I have eaten breakfast on it,” Blueblood said cheerily. Dust Cloud looked surprised, then chagrined.

“Yeah that does make sense doesn’t it.”

The Tapestry Table was a vast dining table; made entirely of glass. The legs were made of such clear glass that the top almost appeared to be hovering in air. The rim of the table had gold dust billowing like clouds through the glass. Yet the top was the most magnificent. It depicted the history of Equestria, from its founding to almost three hundred years ago. At the head of the table wingdagons chased ponies, flowing into the hearth warming tale, to the building of first settlements, to the coronation of Celestia, on and on through the centuries until it depicted a rather minor event. A group of pegasi and earth ponies were shaking pick axes and molten glass blowing rod at each other. Then his aunt arrived on scene, wings outstretched. The ponies sat down with their monarch in the marble and fluted columns of the Cloudale senate. Then they departed looking happy and exchanging gifts with one another.

Blueblood waved a hoof expansively.

“Absolutely magnificent work. What did ancestors work on?”

Dust Cloud blinked.

“I’m not sure?”

Blueblood mentally stumbled a bit.

“Oh. I understand a little about glass blowing. What even goes into a project of that scale.”

Dust Cloud looked up, wistful.

“Well I’ve never worked on something like that. But If I am remembering the description of it right, you would need dozens of ponies working together. You would have to keep the entire thing hot the whole time. The top, the legs, and figures and shapes; they would all have to be made and kept very hot the entire time until they were all done. Then they would all be joined together. For something that size you’d probably need to take shifts.”

He shook his head, eyes bright before he sighed.

“Hope I get to work on something close to that.”

There was a pause. Before Blueblood tentailty spoke up.

“If you do not mind me speaking so. I have rarely heard a pony sound so melancholy when talking about his favorite hobby.”

Dust Cloud blinked, looked at Bluebloood then sighed again and continued.

“Yeah, not a glass blower anymore. No one else in my family is either. We closed down a few years ago.”

Blueblood held a hoof up to his mouth. That was much worse than he had feared.

“Oh I am so sorry,” he trailed off. Three hundred years of legacy, probably longer than that, gone.

“It was tough for the family making ends meet for a while there.”

“Why did it happen? You did excellent work.”

“Well not many ponies are buying blown glass anymore. I understand why. A factory can produce a piece at a tenth of the cost. But we also didn’t have the money for new gas furnaces. We had an old wood furnace. You need ponies constantly working the billows and adding more wood,” he shook his head, “We couldn’t compete so we lost.”

There was a long silence, before with some effort, Dust Cloud straightened his shoulders and put a smile on his face.

“You don’t need to look down. We all found work now. Maybe in the future we can get back our old building and buy a new fancy furnace.”

Blueblood wasn’t quite sure how much that would all cost. But any artist would struggle after being several years out of practice. Could he do something for them? Not now but perhaps after he got back to Canterlot? He spoke seriously.

“I admire your determination.”

Dust Cloud looked embarrassed.

“Yeah thanks,” seeming to grasp for a subject change, he said, “that’s why I joined the army.”

Blueblood paused, chewing that over. It tasted a little bitter.

“Oh?”

Not noticing the slight change in demeanor, he continued in the same tone.

“Yeah. Royal employees get good benefits and wages. And soldiers are technically royal employees. But we don’t do much, so I heard they are pretty lax with leave. So I might be able to do side jobs on top of my royal salary. If i’m careful with my money and my family chips in. We might be able to get our workshop reopened in a few years. Honestly I hoped to start that during training camp. But that isn’t allowed,” he chuckled, “even if it was Broadflag would accept it-”

“I apologize for interrupting. But does that not strike you as mercenary?” Dust Cloud reared back a bit, but Blueblood frimly cut off and more words, “I do not dispute that you have a good cause, but if you are taking her majesty’s bit; do you think it appropriate to treat it so cavalierly, without due seriousness?”

Dust Cloud’s ears laid back against Blueblood’s hard words and stare. In a mix defensiveness and surprise.

“Im going to do whatever I’m supposed to during my time. But there is no reason I can’t make a little money on the side.”

“Where are you supposed to drill every day, you’ll be frivolously missing that.”

“I mean, I get what Broadflag says about readiness. But a few days here and there won’t hurt. Do you think we’ll ever have anyone,” it genuine question.

Blueblood had intended to respond in the same hard tone, but I note of hesitation entered his voice.

“You don’t?”

Dust Cloud tilted his head.

“No? I mean maybe? Where… like parachutes on an airship. In the off chance something goes wrong they are nice to have. But it’s been decades since an airship crashed.”
Blueblood hesitated. The words sunk into him , like the seeds of an irritating weed. But nothing immediately sprung to mind to counter them. He took a breath.

“I see. We will have to agree to disagree,” he smiled, “not out of my second convsetation and yet I must apoligize again. I did not mean to get so heated.”

Dust Cloud relaxed, and returned a relieved smile.

“It is all good. Say where do you live in Canterlot.”

Blueblood accepted the graceless divierstion. Part because his family manor was fanincating topic, part since it distracted him from a growing doubt in the back of his mind.

Author's Note

I took a break around the holidays and a vacation. The next chapter will be quicker.

Also I promise this story isn’t ’Blueblood at boot camp.’ We will move on soon.