Honour Bound

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Honour Bound was a mere corporal in the Royal Guard, and in just a few moments, she was going to find out if she could summon up enough command authority to get a squad of Night Guard and a pack of sailors to both stand down before somepony got seriously hurt.

Galloping along next to her, Specialist Artemis Sparkshower turned to speak. "This doesn't make sense! When we met Carmen earlier, she told us the Swarming Meteors were suspended from Night Guard duty because of what Marcos did! Why are they here now??"

Honour was no expert in batpony 'Star-phase' temples, but she could spot the same attack when it was used twice. Either some other school had exactly the same swoop-clobbering tactic and hoof-blades as the Meteors, or Reverend Mother Superior Carmen Ebonshield wasn’t trustworthy.

And she knew where she’d place her bet.

‘Okay, Honour. You just have to get in there, use your best "I am in charge here!" voice, and nopony will notice you're in a cocktail dress and completely unarmed and unarmored.’

At the very least, she ought to be able to cause enough disruption to delay the impending violence.

But before she could even reach the starting point, a brilliant silver pegasus colt in Royal Guard armor fluttered down in front of the Swarming Meteors. "What's the meaning of this? Who gave you permission to charge and draw weapons, Sergeant? And you, there, you ruffians -- how dare you raise your hooves against the Guard? Back away this instant!"

His uniform had the single epaulette of Lieutenant Junior Grade, but more interestingly, on his right foreleg Honour saw a familiar black band with the letters 'R.U.C.' sewn into it with white thread.

R.U.C.: Royal Undermountain Constabulary.

From his angle of entry, the officer must have been patrolling with the batponies -- which meant that the Night Guard were on station at the Gala, but they were being supervised. As Honour arrived at the scene, she noted that the sailors hadn't backed away, though they did at least cease their advance. The officer, however, seemed much more concerned with the behavior of the batponies. "Well, Sergeant? I want an explanation!"

For his part, the batpony 'sergeant' kept his eyes on the drunk belligerents. "Teniente Naranja, dese ponies werrre yust about to-"

The argent R.U.C. Lieutenant got right up in his dusky sergeant's muzzle. "That is not an excuse! You forget that you are under strict orders, Sergeant! You are not permitted to take action without consulting with your superior officer first!" Pointing down at the crumpled sailor beneath the batpony's hooves, he continued, "Did you do so prior to assaulting these guests, Sergeant?"

The batpony scrunched up his muzzle for a moment before answering. "No, mi Teniente."

Vindicated, the Lieutenant turned his nose up at the batpony, then turned on his heels to face the ornery sailors. "Sheathe your weapons and back away, Sergeant. I will take care of this."

He didn’t audibly grumble, but Honour could see the frustration written on the sergeant's face as he nodded to his four comrades. They all backed off of and away from their victims, before pausing to re-holster their spring-loaded hoof-blades.

Now the crowd's attention was on the officer. "Disgraceful! You sailors were invited here to celebrate the anniversary of the Merchant Marine, and what do you do? Draw weapons on the Guard, after nearly coming to blows -- and for what, some trivial argument over whose ship is the fastest? I'll have you all thrown in the donjon for this nonsense!"

For a junior officer, he certainly had the right attitude of command, and the ponies before him did deserve a dressing-down -- but Honour wasn’t sure that ragging on their argument as 'nonsense' or 'trivial' was going to help.

Sure enough, his final statement elicited several grumbles and jeers from the crowd.

"Trivial?"

"Nonsense?!"

Honour even saw a few forehooves go up -- with the opposing one placed in the crook of the elbow.

"Buck you, peeler!"

"Get lost, butter-bar!"

"Buzz off, Jack Law!"

That just set the officer off even more. "How dare you! I am an officer of the Royal Guard, and you are guests here in Her Majesty's palace. You will respect my authority and disperse this instant! Disperse, I say!"

His Canterlot-accented cries fell flat as the brigands started to advance on him once more. "Come on, lads, we'll give this stuffed hat what 'e deserves, then we'll have at the bloody bats!"

Suddenly aware of his peril, the Lieutenant took one step back -- which just served to open the floodgates. A moment later, he panicked, bolting to take cover behind the five Night Guard soldiers he’d just disarmed and dressed down. "Sergeant, draw weapons and prepare to engage!"

Before he could even finish barking out the order, the batponies had already readied themselves for a fight once more. The crowd surged forward, more energetically than when they were faced with the Night Guard alone.

It seemed Honour was going to have to clean up the L-T's mess after all.

‘Time for a different strategy.’

With Sparkshower at her side, Honour just barely intruded in between the two groups before summoning up the salty bellow of a Fillydelphia dockside mare. "Anyhow, everypony knows that the Tambermane is the fastest clipper ship on the Four Seas..."

That got her a few glances.

‘Seems like I’m on the right track.’

"...Anypony who thinks otherwise must be a fool or a moron, and clearly needs the sense knocked into them, or maybe their teeth knocked out!"

And now she had their attention. The advance on the batponies and the embattled Lieutenant came to a halting stop once more.

"...Isn't that right, Artemis?"

Honour just hoped Sparkshower understood the situation enough to play along -- and that she could dig down and find some source of coarse churlishness.

"Uh-Yes! That's right!” The pegasus started. “Why, I can't imagine the kind of toothless, er, scurvy-hoofed, uh, freshwater marine who would even consider any other ship for supremacy."

‘Good mare.’

The sailor leading the slow charge -- a big earth-pony colt dressed in white slops with a blue jacket and a black bowler cap -- came to a halt and faced the intruding corporal. "What've we got over here? A couple of loud-mouthed mares looking to leave the Gala with shiners?"

‘Time to go 'full Fillydelphia.'’

The earth pony mare lifted an eyebrow and sneered as she looked him up and down. "As if you could touch me. I've seen better stallions slurping sausage and taking it between the buns behind quayside bars off Front Street."

A few jeers and guffaws called out from behind him as the sailor-colt's ears started to boil. "You're all talk, little filly. Go on and scram."

Honour slapped one forehoof against her flank, lifting her upper lip to crudely show her teeth. "Make me. You wouldn't last two minutes on the Fillydelphia docks. What garbage-scow do you even serve on, anyways?"

Snorting out his nostrils, the big stallion clopped a forehoof into his chest. "The Antelope, out of Baltimare, and she's no damn scow."

She snorted right back at him as she lied through her teeth. "Sure, she's no scow, but she sure needs one to haul her off. I've seen the Antelope down at the docks; she's a sickening sight, with her sails in rags and listing to port. I hear your cook spends his days in the scuppers with the staggers and jags, too."

Accompanied by boos from some of the ponies behind him, the sailor shook his head. "You've got a nasty tongue, filly. Someone ought to slap it clean out of your muzzle."

‘Now, to show him I really am serious about spoiling for a fight.’

After all, it was better for the two of them to duke it out with fistihooves than the Swarming Meteors get involved with their daggers. With any luck, beating up just one or two of them would disperse the crowd. This wouldn't be her first boxing match with a mariner anyways -- just the first one since she’d left Filly'. Hiking her skirt, she reared back on her hind hooves and defiantly raised up her forehooves. "Please. There's no way a barge as broad and fat and loose in stays like you will ever hit me."

Though scowling at the latest insult, the colt still hesitated to commit against her, so Honour got back down on all fours and lowered her head down, scraping a hind hoof against the ground as if she were readying for a charge. "Come on, bilge rat! Don't tell me you're afraid to hit a mare. That's the only way an ugly picaroon like you could ever get one to stick around long enough for you to wet your whistle, anyhow."

That final put-down pushed him over the edge, and with the jostling, ornery crowd at his back furiously egging him on, he turned his body fully towards her. "Well, we were gonna teach that meddling officer and his scum batponies a lesson, but I guess we've got room for a little appetizer first. All right, foul-mouthed filly, let's dance!"

The corporal spared a quick glance to make sure that the Swarming Meteors and their supervising R.U.C. officer were staying back and that the crowd's focus was on her, before turning her gaze back to her opponent. He was so confident he'd end her with just one blow that the muscled stallion simply reared back and stepped forward on his hind hooves, swinging wide.

---

Suggested background music: Yugo Kanno - "Il Vento D'Oro", from "JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Golden Wind" [2018]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U0TXIXTzJEY

---

Transported back to her youthful days brawling in the dockside alleys, time seemed to slow down as Honour was filled with a serendipitous confidence. The turbulent sea of confusing possibilities of what might happen in the future -- with Castlerook, Leeward, Anonymous, Fillydelphia, and more -- collapsed into the straight and narrow river of the immediacy of the here and now. And that path was so predictable, so constrained, and so familiar that she completely let go of her worries and turned all of her attention to the present:

Unarmed combat between maritime earth ponies.

With her newfound focus, what was just a sloppy, easily-avoided attack turned into a clownish pantomime of a sloth's movement. She didn't even have to think to dodge; she’d already ducked.

‘And now that he's left himself open, how to riposte?’

Certainly, she could try for a fast knock-out as he had. A solid hoof to his chin, probably followed by a second, might be enough to get him flat on his back, if he's got a glass jaw. But Honour knew from experience that a quick end would neither impress nor rattle the crowd as well as a proper, longer brawl. She needed something with some meat to it, so that her fight with their fellow stallion satisfied their own blood-lust, even if their champion lost.

‘Let him take the heavy swings, then, and I’ll start with a few body blows to soften him up.’

As she established her strategy, she could almost see the steps before they came: duck the clumsy haymaker, step back to draw the fighter further away from the crowd. Although she was putting on a show for the other sailors, it was still important to try to minimize any interference. She needed to keep them as spectators to this petty mêlée, not participants, if she wanted to actually win.

The sailor's forehoof passed well above and in front of her head, and she lined up the next motion. Aware that she’d moved back, but not yet cognizant that she was too fast for this, he took a heavy step forward and swung wide with the other hoof. Already a bit tilted from the first wild swipe, his second attack was more of a proper hook, but still puts him dangerously off-balance.

Honour lifted her head up to avoid the low-aimed blow and prepared to strike. As the mariner's hoof sailed beneath her chin, she launched forward on her hind hooves, thrusting one forehoof out until it connected with his shoulder.

‘Celestia, he's solid!’

That first forehoof found nothing but thickly-corded muscle and bone, so she launched the other one lower, at his ribs. The second connection had the impact she wanted, and the colt cringed even as he lurched. From his careless strikes as well as her own hit, he was forced to get back down on all fours, or else topple over sideways onto the ground.

That's when he was most vulnerable, and she took full advantage, planting her own forehooves in the grass and pivoting around on them for a quick double-hind-kick. It was impossible to conceal such a big motion, but all he could do when he spotted her red dress flying out at him was curl his flank and try to lurch away from her. It was enough to lessen the blows, but not enough to avoid them, and she could see his cheeks puff up as her kidney-shots knocked the wind out of him.

Having completed the attack, now it was Honour who was vulnerable, with her flanks exposed.

He reared up again on his hind hooves, but having wised up to the mare’s speed, he settled for a left-hoof jab. She was certain a left-hoof cross was going to follow, so to mix things up, she tensed and leaned into the first blow.

It worked: he was so surprised when his first forehoof ricocheted off in an unexpected manner that it spoiled the follow-up, sending his hoof wild. That created another opening, and for more, this time.

Starting with a single hind kick for good measure, she spun around again and drove her head forward, butting into the back of his flank. The impact sent pain shuddering down her neck through her skull, but she mostly caught him in the soft spot past his ribcage, and more importantly, her effort actually knocked him off his hooves.

Struggling in the air, he flailed down with his forehooves as she pushed through to ensure the toppled, but her own hooves came up faster, seizing his torso and torquing him sideways. Now, instead of landing on his side, he slammed right down on his back, knocking his head shortly after. He was flat on the ground now, so she leapt on top to pound, knocking a gaskin into his groin as she crashed her forehooves down into his neck and face.

With instincts that made it clear he was no tenderhoof, he brought his own limbs up to shield those vulnerable areas, all while trying to buck her off. Honour continued to hammer away, trying to break past or get around his guard, but she just didn’t have the reach, and eventually he managed to shove hard enough that she was kicked over, rolling onto her four hooves.

Furious at having been knocked around this way, he snarled out as he rolled over and got back up, a streak of blood trickling down from his mouth. "Damned whorse!"

Honour smirked.

‘Them's fightin' words.’

"You're in for a wreckin', jawn."

With a shake of his head, he re-cocked his shoulders and squared up against her. His head might still be full of tipple, but at last now he was showing her that he actually had some fighting chops.

‘Good, that'll make for a better show.’

As the two of them circled around, sizing the other up, Honour was momentarily brought back to real-time, just enough to hear the crowd's cheers and jeers.

"Come on, get 'er, Flass!"

"Clobber that whorse!"

"Keep your hooves up!"

Even better; the more they got into it as spectators, the more likely they would be to feel spent if he lost. She just had to make sure to achieve that ending.

Artemis was watching observantly from the sidelines, her eyes darting between Honour, her opponent, the crowd, and even the group of batponies -- who so far hadn't budged an inch. Even the lieutenant seemed to be caught up in the duel.

‘Back to it, then -- and this time, I’ll start the offensive.’

Surging forward, Honour gritted her teeth and watched the stallion's eyes go wide as she launched a top-hoofed uppercut at his chin. Turning his head, he narrowly avoided it, only to catch her cross in the neck. He cringed from the pain, but it wasn’t so much that he couldn't react, and he squatted down almost onto his haunches to lift his own forehooves for a reply.

Which might’ve worked, if she hadn't already swung her back around to start kicking him in the side. A heavy hoof glanced off her withers as she spun, and a moment later she was once again burying keratin just past his ribs. But she couldn’t connect with some solid hip-bone this time, which screwed her recovery enough that she couldn't risk a follow-up.

Recognizing his mistake in sitting down, 'Flass' stood up again and rushed forward, lifting his forehooves wide at the last moment.

‘He's going to try to grab me and wrestle me down; can't have that.’

Honour’s head still hurt from the last time, but she tuned it out and pushed herself to go low, hurtling forward into his attempt at a grapple. As his forelegs seized her barrel, her skull slammed against the base of his rib-cage.

The momentum-transfer stopped Honour in her tracks, but she managed to keep her neck straight enough to remain planted. While he scrabbled to get hold of her, she thrust her neck up, making the big sailor grunt, "Urgh!"

Honour was able to lift him into the air, but she could feel her strength failing -- she couldn't get him over this way, so she tilted her head to send him sideways. With all four of his limbs flailing in the air, the maneuver just barely worked, and he flopped over onto his flank.

Turning to land the easy hits, she got a couple of forehooves in on the same hind spot she’d been working so far this fight, but then she felt a jolt of pain in her head and had to withdraw.

‘Buck, did I actually crack my skull against him?’

She blinked, and her vision briefly went blurry.

Another blink, and she was seeing straight again.

Still on his side, he was lethargically trying to get back up. The corporal didn’t have the same volume of liquid courage in her that he had, which had been to her advantage so far, but if the alcohol's numbing effect kept him from going down, that'd be a real problem.

That's when disaster struck.

"Aw, stinkin' whorse, what a dirty move. I'll get her for ya, Flass!"

One of the eager audience members -- thankfully, not one of the armed ones -- hustled in from behind, aiming to grab her. And when one came, another might follow, and another...

She barely had time to feel panic at the thought of being ganged up on by more foes, when a pink-and-yellow blur went streaking over her shoulder.

"DYNAMIC ENTRY!"

The outstretched hind hooves of a spiralling Artemis Sparkshower crashed into the interloper's muzzle, and she beat her outstretched wings once to come to a magnificent, skidding landing on all fours, even as her victim went tumbling back head-over-hooves, rolling through gaps in the crowd like a stray cannon ball.

Instantly, Honour’s pegasus savior spread her wings wide and reared up on her hind hooves, menacing the crowd, "Epona-a-buaidh! Sow the wind, and reap the Whirlwind!"

‘Good mare.’

‘Really good mare.’

‘But maybe tone it down, lest you goad more of them into attacking.’

But once again, Honour had problems of her own: Flass was back on his hooves. He looked steady, but as the two of them faced each other once more, something about him seemed different. It was hard to put a hoof on it. On a whim, Honour stood up straight, effectively lowering her guard, goading him to attack. Watching her do it, he didn’t seem to know how to react.

No, that wasn’t it: he knew how he wanted to react -- but he hesitated; he was finally feeling intimidated.

Good!

With the way her head was hurting, and having already attracted one ringer, it was past time the corporal ended this fight. She couldn’t bait any more clumsy attacks out of him, but she could take advantage of his hesitation. Kicking up her heels, she charged.

He had the sense to rear up and throw out a jab to force her away in response, but he failed to put his full power into it. Honour weathered the limp blow against her muzzle even as she reared back herself.

He tried to turn away, thrusting out his cross hoof in another keepaway attempt, yet once again it was just hoof and foreleg that connected, lacking the real power provided by the twisting shoulder, barrel, waist, and hips.

The impact of that lame hoof against her muzzle hadn’t fazed the mare in the slightest and now, having pushed through his ineffective guard, she was ready to unleash her own assault. Pivoting on her hind hooves, Honour wailed against Flass with hook after hook, slamming alternating forehooves into his head, battering it back and forth like a punching speed bag. "Oorah! Oorah! Oorah!"

Honour hadn’t shouted the battle cry of the 186th Fillydelphia Volunteers since she was fresh out of 'shoe camp, but somehow it just came out naturally as she pummeled her opponent into submission. "...One-Eight-Six, Fillydelphia Volunteers! Oorah!"

A final hammer-blow, summoned up with all of her power, sent Flass crumpling down to the ground before her, landing on his rear with the rest of him flopping limply out afterwards. Huffing and puffing through her nostrils, Honour paused momentarily, still on her hind hooves, looking down to make sure he was down for the count.

But when it became clear he was out cold, she finally let herself get back down on all fours.

‘Sweet Celestia of Equestria, I have a splitting headache.’

The corporal needed a drink -- but there was something else she needed to deal with first. Turning to face the other sailors, she saw sad, disheartened faces.

‘Perfect.’

"Ahoy, you lot! Haul your damned bilge-scum the buck out of here before any more peelers show up! Sharply, now!" Exchanging glances, they didn’t have to be told twice, and a few of them hustled forwards to pick up their fallen champion.

Sparkshower joined Honour at her side as the corporal started towards the batponies, who were still posed in front of five clobbered sailors. "Let them go! They won't cause any more trouble, right?" That last question was directed back at the former belligerents, who nodded and meekly muttered affirmatives in response.

As if on cue, the Lieutenant stepped out from behind his protective wall of soldiers. "Ahem, excuse me, but I am in command here, and I will decide-"

Honour had seen his kind before. "Lieutenant, you can either let these five go, or you can deal with fighting the rest of that mob -- again."

The junior officer fell silent, but his batpony sergeant lifted an eyebrow. "Ay am not afrrraid of such a fight."

She retorted by pointing an angry forehoof at his still-extended hoof-blade. "You should be. That's a tool for killing; you think your Great Mother wants deaths at the biggest party of the year? And for what, instigating a brawl amongst themselves? That's not Equestrian justice, it's a slaughter."

The use of the batpony term for Princess Luna immediately elicited the full and undivided attention of all five batponies. After a moment's consideration, the sergeant nodded to his soldiers, and all five backed further away from their knocked out prey.

Even as more glum sailors came to haul fallen comrades back inside -- and probably to the nearest drinks table, for recuperative tonics -- the Lieutenant started to sputter out protestations. "But... At least we should, uh, an arrest, er, we can't just-"

Honour ignored him and stepped up to the batpony leader. "Now answer another thing for me, 'Sergeant.' Why are Swarming Meteors on duty tonight? The Reverend Mother Superior said you were all on suspension, after what Marcos pulled."

The blathering lieutenant's jaw dropped open wide, but the Meteor sergeant just lifted the other eyebrow. He looked Honour and Artemis over. "Jou... Jou arrre two of the ones he attack-ed. The Caporal Bound, and the Specialisto Sparkshower. La tierra y la pegaso..." Tilting his head back, he started to nod. "Now jour actions makes the sense. Jou know how we fight, so jou interbeened to stop us from killing, jes?"

When the gears finally ticked into place, he stepped forward right towards Honour, coming muzzle-to-muzzle with the earth pony. The batpony Star-phase act of respect: opening himself up to a possible head-butt if she were offended.

"...We Meteors have indeed been shamed by the actions of our Sixth, and rrremoved from the duties rrregular. But, this Gala, she ees exceptional. Therre would not be enough Stars to monitor the skies without us. So, a few grroups such as mine habe been allow-ed."

That explained things, she supposed. If the Royal Guard was on heightened alert for some unspecified threat to the Gala, then it made sense they'd have redoubled the Night Guard patrols as well -- even if the biggest threat to the Gala was quite possibly the Night Guard itself.

Softening his expression, the sergeant glanced up at her brow. "Eef jour eentention was to aboid the bloodshed, Caporal Bound, ay must tell jou, unfortunately, that you have fail-ed."

Withdrawing from the tête-a-tête, she lifted a hoof to her forehead. Sure enough, there was a splotch of blood on the hoof when she lowered it back down. She probably didn't actually crack open her skull against that bull of a sailor, though she clearly broke skin.

Artemis stared at the injured spot. "It's just a small patch, Honour. You should get it looked at, but I don't think it's bleeding quickly, if it's even still open at all."

‘Well, at least the blood'll go with my red dress.’

The batpony sergeant nodded at the corporal. "Jou fight with the great conbiction. Ay see now how Marcos was defeated so easily. Ay am a Fifth of Meteors, Luis Reynauldo. Jou should know, por cierto, that for his crrimes our Sixth has accepted the libertad condicional, the probation, in the serbice of las Lunares. This is an arrangement most unusual; normally, we would habe taken him and meted out the justice ourselbes within our temple, as we did with his conspirradores, but he rrefused."

While interesting, she really didn’t see the relevance. "So?"

Luis shrugged. "Ay tell jou this simply as a courrtesy. Jou habe earned my rrespect; jou should know that the one who sought jour death is free, and no longer underr the control of our temple. For now, eet ees as eef he had join-ed the Lunars."

Then he smiled. "Eef jour group will again enterr the rookery for trraining in the Grand Hall, have a message sent to me. Eet would be worth being awoken een the middle of the day to watch you again, and ay will bring others. Besides, we owe jou at least this courtesy as well."

Honour did remember how every other batpony Star exited the training chamber after their group showed up. Purity had said that was down to antipathy against her, more than against Equestrians like Honour, Artemis, or Lily. It seemed like they were making some positive waves; maybe Luna's mission to the Royal Engineer wasn't so crazy after all.

"It's not up to me, but sure."

Luis Reynauldo, Fifth of Meteors, gave her a quick bow, then, replacing his black hood over his head, before turning to his commanding officer. "Excellenté! May we have now the permiso to rresume our patrrol, teniente?"

The flabbergasted Lieutenant took a few moments to pull himself together. "Uh... Er... Right, sergeant, move out! Sheath weapons and resume DRAGCAP at one hundred hooves."

Acting in utter silence, the five batponies took to the air, as the armored pegasus officer clattered up after them.

For a moment, Honour watched them go, before turning to Sparkshower, who looked at her worryingly. "Are you sure you're alright, Honour? You took some awful-looking hits to your head."

She smiled. "Artemis, honey, for the first time in a while, I think I actually feel good..."

It was true. Maybe it was just a rebound from her breakdown, but she really did feel a lot better after bashing that colt's head in. Grinning broadly, she sidled up beside the pegasus and was about to hook a foreleg over her back, when Honour remembered that she’d probably got blood on those, too. So Honour just nodded at her instead.

"...Now come on, let's get to the little fillies' room so I can clean up."

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