Her Majesty's Royal Guard

Barely anypony raised an eye at the stranger who entered the bar. Then again, barely anypony noticed at all. Orion had a talent for making himself come and go unseen when he wanted to; it was one of several highly specialized skills he had developed as a bounty hunter and mercenary. Satisfied that he had entered relatively unnoticed, he sidled up to the bar where a pony with a large handlebar mustache sat cleaning glass mugs.

"Evening, stranger. Care for a drink?" The tone was welcoming, inviting even. The mark of a good barkeep was to always have their customers feel that they were welcome to drink as much as they pleased.

"Give me a jug of your strongest ale mixed with a shot of rum."

At this, the barkeep arched his eyebrows slightly. "The Canterlot Kicker? You sure?"

Orion nodded his head in assent, which was all the barkeep needed to begin mixing the requested drink. "Not many ponies order the Kicker at all nowadays...it appears getting completely hammered is becoming less popular amongst even us seedier folk." The barkeep said with a low chuckle.

Blasted city folk. They always talk too much. Orion thought darkly to himself. Although he would have preferred to make straight for the nearest recruiting office, Canterlot was strange territory to him and barkeeps were the best sources of information in strange territory. Plus, he had a strong liking for drink that could almost never be quenched - at least not by normal means.

"Here you go; take care not to puke on my counter top. I just had this thing cleaned," said the barkeep, a hint of concern entering his voice. He had seen too many ponies try to drink their way through the Kicker with bravado only to end up on the cold hard cement outside puking their guts out. He had just gotten rid of the smell from the last one, too; a good barkeep always had an unlimited supply of lemon-scented cleaner liquid.

Orion merely scoffed, taking a small whiff of the drink in front of him before downing it in a single gulp, much to the barkeep's surprise. The alcohol managed to create a faint yet pleasant buzz at the back of his skull, but not enough to cloud his senses. "That's it? I was hoping to get drunk off of this."

"I. erm. Impressive." If the barkeep's eyes could open any wider, his eyebrows would end up on the moon. "Nopony's ever taken the Kicker like that and retained consciousness."

"That's surprising, since the ale's too weak," said Orion, frowning in disappointment. The buzz was now almost gone entirely, although his high rate of metabolism was probably more at fault for that. "Have anything stronger?"

The barkeep shook his head, struggling to regain his composure. "No sir, that was the strongest ale we have."

Damn. I guess it serves me right to expect high-quality drink in the underbelly of Canterlot, Orion thought, releasing a forlorn sigh. After four months of hot and dusty travel from the border to the capital, he had been looking forward for a tall glass in which to drown his senses; now he'd have to find another bar. "Thanks for the drink, barkeep," Orion said gruffly throwing some bits onto the counter top. Leaning in closer to as to reduce his voice to a whisper, he gestured for the barkeep to come closer as well.

"I'm looking for a bit of information...and I'm willing to pay well for it." Orion's steely eyes stared hard at the barkeep from under his black stetson. He rummaged through his saddlebags and pulled out a hefty bit purse before placing it on the counter top.

Nodding his understanding, the barkeep stealthily reached over to grab the bit purse before a hoof blocked his own.

"Information first, payment later," Orion growled. The last time he let a pony pull a fast one over him was when he was still a greenhorn; now he simply threw a well-aimed throwing dagger to stop any notions of stealing from him.

"What did you want to know, stranger? I've got plenty for well-paying gents like yourself," he said in a low murmur, his eyes shifting right and left to watch for any potential eavesdroppers. Fortunately for both of them, the rest of the ponies in attendance were too concerned with what was inside their mugs and not with what was outside of them.

"I'm looking for an inside man to get me into the palace. It's a clean insertion job - escort me in, escort me out."

"I know a guy that can help you. He ain't cheap. I hope you've got a lot more bits than what you have in that purse right there, because that ain't going to be enough."

"Trust me, your 'guy' doesn't have to worry about money as long as he's can do what he says he can do." Reaching into his bit purse, Orion slid over a handful of bits to the barkeep, where they disappeared as quickly as they had arrived into the barkeep's own bit purse. "Where do I contact him?"

"He usually skulks around the train loading docks around midnight; tell him Skippy sent you, and be ready with at least 2,000 bits."

"Thanks, barkeep. I've got one last question for you before I leave you alone," Orion said, holding the bit purse tantalizingly in front of Skippy the Bartender.

"I'm listening."

"Where's the nearest recruiting office for the Royal Guard?"

The barkeep's expression contorted into one of violent surprise, anger, and fear. "What in the hay do you want do know that fer? You one of them high-minded prissies too?" he whispered fiercely, his eyes now glaring at the stranger in front of him. Those of the Guard didn't take too kindly with the denizens of Canterlot's shady districts.

"Sweet Celestia's teats, I'm not one of those blueblood pricks," Orion said firmly. "It's part of what I need to do at the palace." Also, I'm planning on living off the sweet teats of the government, but he doesn't have to know that, he thought to himself.

Still staring suspiciously at the stranger, Skippy brought up a map of Canterlot from underneath the bar. "I reckon your best bet is to go here - the one in town square. It's the closest from where we are."

Grunting his understanding, Orion tossed the rest of the bit purse onto the counter top. "Much obliged, Skippy. This stays between us." Without leaving room for further conversation, he exited the bar, leaving behind one slightly confused bartender who shrugged before returning to wiping mugs. There were too many thirsty ponies in his bar to brood over a sober, interesting one.

Stepping gingerly into the team showers, Soarin groaned in relief as hot water began to massage his aching wings. "Ahh, that feels great," he said, taking pleasure from the warm water dripping down his mane and face. The locker rooms were empty save for him; Spitfire had roped him into some after-practice training, so everypony else was washed up and at lunch by the time he hit the showers.

That's not to say that he minded; actually, he enjoyed his one-on-one session with Spitfire since he almost never got to spend any time together with her these days. They'd been friends since childhood despite their differences, and lately Soarin thought he felt a bit more towards her than he would ever publicly admit. I wonder what she thinks of me?

His mind would have wandered farther down this path had it not been interrupted by an intense growl; his stomach was clearly protesting the lack of food within it's borders. "Hehe, whoops. Sounds like I need some grub. I hope they still have pie."

Emerging from the steaming shower, Soarin had barely started drying off his mane when Spitfire suddenly appeared in the doorway.

"Hey Soarin! Just wait until I- what are you doing?" Spitfire raised her eyebrows as Soarin struggled to wrap a towel around his torso.

Soarin blushed and scratched his mane awkwardly, averting his eyes from Spitfire's curious gaze. "Hey 'fire. Just, uh, got out of the shower?"

"Soarin, this isn't the first time I've seen you wet," Spitfire said with a light laugh. "Heck, we're buck naked outside of our uniforms anyway!"

"You know I'm a chaste stallion, 'fire. What with my dad always telling me to be conservative around mares and all," said Soarin defensively, although one look at Spitfire's face told him she was just joking around with him.

"Whatever you say, hotshot," Spitfire said, giving him a provocative wink that only caused him to blush deeper. Reaching behind her, she pulled out a letter from her messenger bag. " 'ere 'ou go," she said through gritted teeth as she held out the letter in her mouth.

Soarin gulped. The way Spitfire was holding out the letter towards him made his heart beat faster, and her lips looked soft and warm, almost inviting. And he'd have to get really close to those lips in order to get the letter.

With a swiftness that could have rivaled Rainbow Dash, Soarin reached down and scooped up the letter between his own teeth. "Thankf," he said, hoping that Spitfire wouldn't notice how red his face was.

"Uh, welcome?" Spitfire said in a quizzical tone, her face the picture of confusion. I wonder what's up with Soarin? He seems nervous for some reason,she thought. Dispelling this thought with a shrug, she noticed that Soarin was standing there staring at her. "Aren't you going to open it?"

At that moment, Soarin had been imagining how Spitfire would look fresh out of the showers when her words snapped him back to reality. "Eh, I'll do it later, since, you know..." He gestured to the puddle of water on the floor that he was now standing in.

"If that floats your boat, Soarin." Spitfire rolled her eyes before grinning at him. "See you after lunch?"

"If there's any left." They shared a laugh before Spitfire left for the mess hall, leaving Soarin to look after her wistfully. "Come on, Soarin. She's just a friend," he said to himself, shaking his head before reaching for another towel. After all, the letter could wait, couldn't it?

As it turned out, Soarin managed to snag his favorite lunch before the mess hall closed up: a grilled cheese sandwich with a slice of apple pie. Seeing that everypony else had already left to enjoy their free time before evening training, Soarin took his lunch to a favorite bar of his in Canterlot Square - the Golden Barrel.

There, he saw a friendly face manning the counter. "Hey there, Soarin! Having the regular today?" Chilled Cider called from behind the bar. He and Cider went way back to uni; they'd been dorm mates for the majority of their stay at the West Manehattan University, and kept in contact ever since. It was sheer coincidence that Cider happened to open a bar in Canterlot that was close enough to the Wonderbolts headquarters for Soarin to visit on a regular basis.

"You know it, Cider! Add a shot of orange soda too if you can." Soarin said after setting down his food on the counter top.

"Sure thing, pal." With expert precision that spoke of years of practice, Cider prepared a mixture of berry rum and ginger ale, topping it off with the requested shot of orange soda before sliding the frothy mug over. "Enjoy yourself, Soarin."

"Will do, Cider." Soarin took a deep drought of the mix, shivering as the fiery sensation trickled down his throat. "Fuahh, that sure hits the spot," he said as he took a large bite into his grilled cheese sandwich. Soon, Soarin had gulped down the last of his drink and asked for another. And another. And another.

By his fifth drink, Soarin had become abominably drunk, something that usually happened at the Barrel. Regular patrons were used to the sight of the Wonderbolt drinking too much of the addictive Berry Mix and largely ignored him since he wasn't inclined to act boisterously. In fact, it appeared that Soarin became even more sociable after downing the drink, but not to the extent of doing anything he would regret.

Today seemed to be an exception, however; Soarin was deep in his thoughts, brooding over his feelings for Spitfire to such an intensity that he hardly noticed the strange gray pegasus wearing a black stetson and matching duster who took a seat next to him, the drink starting to blur both his vision and his senses.

"Barkeep, can you give me a Canterlot Kicker? Make sure it's your strongest ale." Orion said, his mood soured by his uphill trek from Canterlot's underbelly. After an hour of uphill climbs and confusing side alleys, he had finally emerged in Canterlot Square looking for the recruitment office that Skippy had pointed out. Since it was hot out, however, Orion decided that another drink could come first; after all, he was a pony who loved his drink.

"Sure thing, Mr...?"

"Call me Orion."

"Alright then, Orion. One Canterlot Kicker coming up." As Chilled Cider got to work, he glanced over to size up the newcomer. Although he couldn't see much beneath the duster, he could tell that Orion wasn't a normal pony. With corded legs and a muscled chest, it was clear that the individual in front of him was a pony he didn't intend to cross anytime in the near future. There was also a small crossed scar in the shape of an x on Orion's lower cheekbone, indicating that he'd seen his own fair share of fights. "You new around these parts?"

Orion nodded, unwilling to reveal anything to the barkeep. In his experience. bartenders that asked too many questions generally ended up selling you out to the next pony who asked. "I suppose you could say that." His Manehattan accent clashed violently with his appearance, causing Chilled Cider to raise an eyebrow.

"I figured as much. No city folk around here would dress up in that kind of clothing." Chilled Cider expertly finished mixing Orion's drink and slid it over. "Here you go; enjoy."

Orion tipped his hat in thanks, cradling the mug in one of his hooves. "I wouldn't expect them too; this place is filled with blueblood nobles and the like, not fighting ponies." Taking a customary whiff of his drink, Orion downed his mug without second thought before releasing a disappointed sigh. "This ale isn't that great either. Say, barkeep?"

"Call me Cider."

"Cider, what's the alcohol concentration of this ale that you've served me?"

Cider brought up an empty bottle of ale from his recent mixing. "It's at the Canterlot city standard of 2%; ever since the fire of '84, Celestia's put a ban on any drinks 3% and higher."

Orion gazed forlornly at his drink. "I should have figured, the ponies around here wouldn't be able to stomach the kind of alcohol I've grown up with. This isn't anything like what I've been drinking out in the country."

At this, Soarin released a loud snicker; in his clouded mind, he found the idea of a country folk complaining about beer in a city bar to be extremely amusing, although in his sober state he wouldn't dream of discriminating against a pony based on where they came from. "Yeah, I'm sure you bumpkins out there get REAL wild with your drink; there's a reason why all the civilized folk live in the cities."

"What did you say?" Orion's voice hardened, turning his gaze to stare at the drunken blue pony next to him. His face was dangerously calm, the only thing revealing his anger to be an involuntary twitch of his right eye. His eyes were downright steely, cold enough to pierce through any pony's bravado and make them quiver in their boots.

"Soarin!" Chilled Cider said in shock. He'd never seen Soarin act like this before, even when he was drunk. It seemed that this time allowing him to drink all those Berry Mixes was a recipe to disaster as he saw Soarin square off against Orion.

"You heard me; you country folk live out there free of inhibitions and restraint. I'll bet you guys sleep in the mud at nighttime." Somewhere in the back of his head, Soarin's subconscious was horrified of the words that were spilling out of his mouth, but his body refused to cooperate with him as the drink took over.

Orion reduced his gaze to a glare as he reached into his saddlebags. Looking Soarin up and down, he only scoffed at the poor display he was seeing. He tossed a hoof full of bits onto the counter top, his eyes never straying from the drunk in front of him. "Thanks for the ale; it tasted good." Without another word, Orion turned towards the exit when he felt a hoof grab onto his shoulder.

"Where do you think you're going when I'm talking to you?" All rational thought had abandoned Soarin at this point, replaced only with a murky desire to exert his dominance over somepony and to wring out the frustration he felt over his confusing feelings towards Spitfire.

The background buzz at the bar quieted down to a murmur as drinkers stopped to look at the scene.

"What's Soarin doing?"

"Who's that other guy?"

"I wonder what happened."

"Hey barkeep, more beer!"

These and other whispers circulated the room as Orion gave Soarin one long, hard look of disgust. "Go home; you're drunk."

"How about no?" Soarin attempted a clumsy roundhouse swing with his other hoof that Orion dodged. In a burst of explosive movement, Orion quickly knocked the offending hoof off his shoulder with his own while grabbing a dagger from his bandoliers with his teeth and thrusting it under Soarin's chin. The blade gently nicked the skin, causing a thin line of blood to appear. Everypony in the room grew deathly quiet save for Soarin, who wheeled backwards in shock. "W-what the hay!? Are you crazy!?"

Gently sheathing his knife, Orion gave him another hard stare. "Don't start fights you can't finish," he said coldly before quietly exiting the bar.

Soarin turned around to see the shocked gaze of his friend Cider. "What?"

"What in Celestia's name possessed you to do that, Soarin?" Cider could only shake his head in disapproval. "One look and anypony could see he's not the kind of pony you try to pick a bar fight with."

"I-I don't know what came over me," said Soarin, finally regaining some of his mental faculties as his body absorbed the Berry Mix into it's bloodstream. "But he's crazy! He pulled a knife out on me!"

"I'd say he was entitled to; you insult a pony like that and then try to throw a punch at him? I'm pretty sure everypony else in the room agrees with me when I say he was acting in self defense, albeit a bit drastically."

Soarin was about to retort back when he realized the truth in Cider's words, and could only hang his head in shame. "Sorry, Cider... I'll be leaving now." Placing a couple bits onto the counter top to pay for his drinks, he slowly walked out of the bar under the stony stares of it's other patrons.

Chilled Cider shook his head after Soarin left and sighed. "Now, I wonder what in the wide world of Equestria was that all about? He's going to get himself killed if he tries to pick more drunk fights," he said with concern as he returned to wiping down mugs, his face worried about his friend.

After he had calmed his nerves considerably, Orion entered the recruitment office. His expression remained stoic as he scanned his surroundings, his mind wandering back to what had happened at the bar. He hadn't meant to draw his knife on the pony, actually. The drink had inhibited some of his finer judgement, and he had acted out of instinct much to his dismay. Not that it mattered now; hopefully, the pony wouldn't try to report him to the Guard although he highly doubted he would. After all, the other pony was the one who started it, and that's all the law cares about.

"Welcome to the Royal Guard recruiting office. We don't sell food or souvenirs here," said the receptionist in a bored tone. Clearly, the traffic that the office had experienced months earlier had completely died down, the office having not seen another potential recruit in a while. When Orion did not leave the premises, the guard's head perked up. "Here to enlist, are you?"

"No. I'm here to take up this offer on working on the new training program for the Guard and it's recruits." Orion reached into his saddlebags to pull out a worn, folded poster. "See?"

The guard laughed kindheartedly. "Pal, you're aware this poster is about eight months old?"

Orion raised his eyebrows. "And?"

"What I mean is, that program's closed now. The captain decided he's got all the veterans he'll need, even if half of 'em are quacks."

"I think your captain will change his mind when he sees me - I represent a unique opportunity for the Guard."

"Yeah? And so does every other sod that comes in from the country thinking he's a big shot. Still," the guard said, eying Orion's physique with a practiced stare," I suppose it'll do no harm to ask." The guard pulled up a form and handed it to Orion. "Fill this out completely and thoroughly; the Captain will need as much information about you as he can before he can make a decision."

Orion silently took the form, quickly filling out the form with as many truthful details as he dared, although there were some things that he kept to himself. No sense in letting everypony know what my past is - also bad professionalism to let my history be written down anywhere, he thought to himself as he handed the form back to the guard. "Here."

The guard scanned the form and grunted in approval to see that everything was in order. "Come by tomorrow; I'll have the captain's response by then. Oh, and bring this with you," the guard said, pulling out a thick leaflet. "It's book of standard procedures; you'll be needing it if the captain actually wants you in."

Tipping his hat towards the guard in thanks, Orion briskly exited the office before becoming aware of an increasingly annoying headache pounding away at his skull. "A hangover already? Damnation," he muttered, rubbing his temple with both hooves. "Better find a hotel fast; or maybe I can look up an old contact here in Canterlot."

With a groan, Orion got moving again towards Canterlot's shady district; being among all the fancy bluebloods up in middle-Canterlot made him feel ill.