The funny thing about being an immortal Commander-in-Chief and having a low-population military was that "face time" with Her Majesty was 100% guaranteed to be a regular experience for any Guard. Unfortunately for Princess Celestia, the vast majority of her guard provided little better interaction than furniture. Now, Celestia liked her fine furniture as much as any noble, but she gave these ponies the option to live in her castle because she wanted to interact with ponies. Mother knows it was the only reason she continued to waste taxpayers' money on the Wonderbolts.

To make the matter of her Guard more entertaining, the solar princess opted to make a habit of offering them the ironically-conceived "permission to speak freely" and an opportunity to ask her anything. Preferably as early in their career as possible, to minimize their chances of the military indoctrination preventing them from actually speaking freely. The high-born never had anything interesting to say. But one of the things that Celestia loved about stallions is that the ones that stood out, typically the low-born, who basically only had this route and baking as means of guaranteeing a personal conversation with her, did so by broad margins. For example: one unicorn was strangely afflicted with the more modest colors of an earth pony. He had a predisposition for being alone, so he was pretty easy to corner.

There was something weird about him, and in the princess's mind, that meant promising.

"Well, hello there!" the beautiful mare called out, drawing the young stallion's attention. He snapped toward the sound of her voice, then upon identifying her, looked around to see if she meant somepony else before working out that she meant him and approaching. "I see you're wearing my colors, but I don't believe we've met!"

The point of separation between an ordinary Royal Guard and Her Majesty's One Hundred could first be identified (by the trained eye) in the initial meeting between a new recruit and the Princess. Celestia's presence filled her immediate vicinity with the gravity of the two heavenly bodies and continent-spanning nation she had been burdened with for the past thousand years. It took an extraordinary strength of character (or powerfully deceptive self-image) to stand before her and not be overwhelmed with her very being. Torque still obeyed his compulsion to bow, though. What he did not do was show her the kind of fear that normally radiated off of ponies in proximity to somepony who could swat them like insects.

"Ah crap, I thought they were kidding about her doing something like this sometimes..." Torque muttered under his breath, for once in his life benefiting from having been afflicted with the kind of voice that is prone to registering as "pleasant droning". Celestia, for all her godlike "ultra mom" hearing capability, couldn't sort out his words. "Hello, Princess Celestia. I know you've heard this countless times already, but it is an honor to serve you. How can I help you at the moment?"

Torque's plastic smile faded when he noticed that Celestia wasn't even wearing one of that variety. He ran through their exchange in his head. He was pretty sure that he greeted her properly and pronounced everything he said audibly and lucidly. He tried to sort out if he screwed up his bow somehow. Then she smiled again and a significant amount of his nervousness drained away to be replaced by a new concern: What in Tartarus was this mare thinking?

"You are... " Celestia began, then realized after running through her mental roster of the thousand-pony-strong Guard that she had spent so much time trying to remember the tiny differences distinguishing her visually identical guards that she never really did get around to memorizing the much shorter list of "screwballs" because she always convinced herself it would take too little time to be bothered with at the moment. Now she was standing face to face with a pony whose life had been offered to her but whose name she didn't know, and it was her smile's turn to die.

"Lieutenant Torque Stripe, Ma'am." Torque stiffly transitioned from a bow to a salute. Celestia wasn't sure if he was following military protocols or just extremely nervous. "I've got a million nicknames, but you might recognize 'The Brown One', 'Iron Driver', or 'Iron Loser'."

Celestia dimly remembered that last name, but her brain refused to link it to the Guard because it instead wanted to do so with the idea of a lounge singer at a gloomy cocktail dive for middle-aged, husbandless mares. And her brain most certainly didn't want to revisit that topic at all, ever.

"You have a lovely voice, Lieutenant Stripe." We are not revisiting that topic. Celestia said, her years of professional socializing struggling against a pony who tried to end or trigger an end to the conversation with every comment. But she would win. She always did. "As it so happens, I like to get to know my Guards as well as possible. If you are to grant me your life so that I might entrust you with mine, this should be the least I could do in return, shouldn't it?"

"...that sounded like it was already an equivalent exchange, but okay, I'll bite. What did you want to know, Princess?" he replied, offering her what he hoped was a friendly and helpful posture and expression.

"How about we start with the obvious? What made you want to be one of my Guards? What do you hope to gain from this course in life?" Celestia asked, trying to present herself as being as non-threatening as possible. Stallions tended to be skittish on serious topics.

"I suppose I could give you the generic warrior answer of 'I wanted legal authority to kill ponies', but I can ima- already see that totally not flying." Torque scrambled as his typical gallows humor failed to amuse the Princess of Harmony. Go figure. His smile was real this time, but expressed nervousness rather than anything positive. "To be completely honest, I have this problem where I like to know things. One of the biggest things I've wanted out of this career is to get to find out which of our "childhood legends" are based on reality. That's really my primary motivation for working for the government."

Celestia felt her blood temperature drop a few degrees.

"Like for example that one about your sister."

And then it dropped many more. In hindsight, this 'getting the Guards to open up to her' was a stupid idea and she should quit doing it.

"Did that really happen? Have you been talking to somepony about it? Do you need a hug or something? Also importantly, I guess, is that something we're going to have to look out for in the foreseeable future? Is there a "Return of Nightmare Moon" emergency protocol?" Torque stopped asking questions when he felt a pressure on his chest. He peeled himself out of the wall he'd forgotten he'd been standing in front of and had been cratered into. Sweet Goddess, I didn't even see her move. And I've shot down Wonderbolts.

"I think that's enough questions for today, Lieutenant." Damn, he's as tough as a foundation stone. That was supposed to knock him into a coma. "The incident with Nightmare Moon is not a matter I wish to discuss at this time." Or ever, if I'm being honest with myself. "You seem to have a need to learn about being cognizant of other ponies' feelings. Your assignment will reflect that."

"My assignment, Ma'am?" Torque asked, all smiles fake or otherwise now fully absent from both ponies. Was she punishing him? He got the impression that he had failed some kind of test.

"You'll be made aware of it tomorrow. For now, I suggest you get some rest. You have quite the task before you." With a flash that would put a camera to shame, Celestia vanished, leaving the stallion to rub his scorched eyes.

Still reeling from what had just transpired, Torque headed back to the barracks. But all of his stuff was gone. Being the kind of pony who was prone to losing his possessions with no explanation or hope of recovery, he freaked at the knowledge that this curse had followed him into an occupation where management of them was of dire importance. Then he noticed the letter at the bottom of his locker. It was from his CO, a thought which caused him to break out in a cold sweat. But it was just a notice of reassignment to the West Wing.

Once there, he found an appropriately spartan room marked as his and all of his stuff. The stallion thought it was odd that all of the suns on his gear had been marked over with red streaks making them appear similar to Taoist symbols. Also, he'd been given a number and demoted to sergeant, both very significant life events that were brought to him on an almost anonymous piece of paper. But this was Equestria. Odd was par for the course. He heard hoofsteps... small, light but not intentionally so. A young mare or younger colt was approaching.

"Well... well... well. Who is this that's come traipsing around in my domain?" a rough but still deceptively pleasant female voice cut into the silence behind him.

Is this the part where ponies normally make a huge mess as they try to hide something they have no reason to be embarrassed about? Torque wondered as he turned towards the source of the voice. The mare, barely more than a filly, was probably the most beautiful pony he had ever seen, short of Celestia herself. But he could tell with one look into those enchanting green eyes of hers that her little heart was a lump of coal. Oh great, I'm the Bitch Princess's personal bitch. This is going to suck. I wish I was asleep right now.

"Hello. I'm Torque Stripe." His eyes flicked into his locker briefly, but for the most part he regarded her like an exceptionally well-tempered pony would a rattlesnake. "Number 64, the only two-digit number that is also a hypercube!"

He could tell by her smile that she wanted something from him, but given the scale and value of her possessions compared to his, he couldn't guess what. The only thing he could guess was that her means of getting it from him would hurt even if it didn't need to.

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