Artemis Sparkshower

Specialist Artemis Sparkshower had never felt physically intimidated by any creature in her life.

Until now.

Inside the smoky smithy, a towering colossus of a black minotaur bull stood behind a counter that came up to her chin, but seemed to barely reach his waist. And, grim-faced, with his fists on his hips, he was staring down at Private First Class Featherhooves.

"Private, you're out of uniform. Where's your gorget?"

His deep, powerful voice reverberated in the small showroom, rattling the sets of armor sitting on shelves and the dozens of weapons hanging from the walls.

Artemis glanced over at Featherhooves, and there was a look of defiance in the bare-necked Griffon's eyes. "It's too heavy, and it gets too hot."

The minotaur snorted. He leaned over and, with a loud 'whump,' rested one of his slab-like forearms on the counter. From that angle, she could confirm that, yes, his upper arm alone was probably bigger than she was.

Wow.

With his other hand, the shopkeeper pointed an accusing finger at Artemis’ escort.

"You won't be thinking it's too heavy when you wind up taking a spear to your neck."

His voice was so low she almost felt his words vibrating in her bones rather than hearing them in her ears.

But Featherhooves just rolled her eyes. "We're going out on maneuvers, Gunther, not heading into battle."

Gunther stretched out his accusing finger and rather forcibly poked Artemis’ Griffon comrade in her neck. "Train in the armor you fight in."

As Featherhooves pulled away from his prodding, the enormous minotaur withdrew his hand, balled it up into a fist, and rested it, knuckles-down, on the counter alongside his other arm.

With another steamy snort, he loomed over the desk, staring at the griffon. "Dress up properly next time you come here, or I'll see to it you get a proper dressing-down back at the fort."

Private Featherhooves glared right back, and for a few moments, they tried to stare each other down. Eventually, whether because she withered under his gaze, or because she knew he was right, the griffon broke eye contact and looked sheepishly away.

"Sorry, Gunther. I won't leave it off again."

The minotaur didn’t break his gaze. "Next time, you might not be sorry -- you might be dead."

Leaning back, he sighed, and the walls seemed to flex inwards and outwards along with his mighty breath. "...Now, what do you want? I hope you're not here to check up on that rush order -- because as much as I don't appreciate being asked to craft a whole platoon's worth of Diamond Dog armor with only two days' notice, I appreciate it even less having that pencil-neck Lieutenant Woodhouse sending badly dressed privates down here to check up on me."

Featherhooves nodded in Artemis’ direction. "I'm not here about that, Gunther; right now, I'm just an errand-foal, escorting Specialist Sparkshower here, who wanted to know who supplies the Princess-Cadenza's with the 'exotic' armor we use."

Gunther swiveled his meaty neck towards Artemis, and the intimidation factor ramped up again. It wasn’t so much that she was afraid of what he could do to her; when she faced off against Kilfeather's second-in-command, that had been genuine fear. Fear that 'Joker' could -- and actually did -- literally fly circles around her. With this massive minotaur, she didn’t feel like she was in any actual danger. But the way he moved his enormous bulk with a commanding presence was almost hypnotizing. She just knew that if he wanted to, the gargantuan, bipedal cow could snap bones, bend iron bars, crush bronze plate...

It was staggering.

Gunther looked her over with a discerning eye, and his ivory horn caught a glint from the light streaming down into the hazy room through the sunlight in the ceiling.

"That's a solid-looking suit of armor you've got, Specialist. Is it just for show?"

Artemis shook her head. "No, sir. I'm a 19D Armored Scout."

He glanced at her flanks. "I see some scuffs on it. Have you taken it into a fight?"

Her shake turned into a nod. "Yes, sir."

The minotaur narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. "Against?"

She paused, and a quick glance beside her showed that Featherhooves was also listening attentively.

"Changeling advance scouts in the field a year ago, but most recently, I won a duel against a lieutenant of the First Canterlot Air Superiority Wing."

The minotaur didn’t budge from his spot, though she could see his jaw move as if he was chewing on her words. When he'd finished masticating, she saw him swallow. Then he nodded, a look of satisfaction in his eyes.

"Alright, Specialist Sparkshower. I'm Gunther Bronzehorn, and this is my smithy. I make bronze weapons and armor in all styles, shapes, and sizes. What can I do for you?"

Artemis licked her lips.

"Well, I'm not here for myself, sir. I'm currently assigned to the Canterlot Palace Military Office as a member of a bodyguard quaternion for a Very Important Pony, and our VIP requires martial equipment. Since he's not actually a pony, I'm looking for an armorer with some understanding of non-equine physiology."

Gunther Bronzehorn started chewing again, and she saw him reach up to scratch his smoke-blackened snout, tugging on his large bronze nose-ring in the process.

Then he blinked, and leaned forward. "Let's get one thing clear, Specialist. I make armor for warriors, not bigwigs..."

The minotaur leaned back again. "... I don't do gilt, or filigree, or embossing, or bas-relief, or any other of that useless nonsense. And I only work with bronze."

Lifting his arm up off the table, he jabbed a fat thumb into his immensely broad chest. "My art is in making armor that fits well and works well, not in dressing a bull up to look good for the heifers."

He left it at that, and resumed his chewing of some invisible cud.

Artemis cleared her throat. "Mister Bronzehorn, sir, my VIP has been challenged to a fight before. We defended his honor then, but he wants to learn how to fight so he can defend himself, and my sergeant intends to train him. She doesn't want to start until he has appropriate armor so that he can, as you said, train in the armor he'll fight in."

The chewing stopped, and Bronzehorn narrowed his eyes. "This VIP of yours -- what is he?"

She sat down and started to gesture with her forehooves. "He's a 'human,' Sir. Sort of a bipedal hairless monkey. He looks a bit like a minotaur, but he walks on his feet, not on hooves, so his legs bend the other way around. And he's pretty tall, though not as tall as you, sir."

Gunther resumed chewing, thinking over her words. He glanced over at Featherhooves, but she just gave a simple shrug in response. Then his eyes went back to the pegasus, and the chewing continued for a few, uncomfortable moments more.

At last, the minotaur slowly nodded his head. "All right. When it comes to non-pony armor, nobody can beat Bronzehorn -- that's why my smithy is the sole supplier for the Princess-Cadenza's."

He lifted his enormous arm off the table, then dropped it down again with one finger holding it up.

"You tell your VIP, whoever and whatever he is, what I told you about how I work. If he's still interested, then have him come here for a measuring. Day or night -- my door is always open for those on the warrior's path."

The enormous minotaur pushed down on the counter and hauled himself up. "I've never worked on a 'human' before, but I'm sure I can figure out how to protect him."

With a wave of his hand, he gestured at the door. "If that's everything, then I've got to get back to the forge. There's another five suits of Diamond Dog armor to finish for tomorrow morning."

Artemis nodded and gave him a salute. Somehow, even though this minotaur was not in the military, it seemed appropriate.

Her gesture earned her what looked like an approving nod in response, before Gunther Bronzehorn drew open a heavy leather curtain and headed out of the immense building's fairly small showroom. The pegasus and griffon likewise exited the smithy and went back outside.

Private First Class Featherhooves turned to her. "Well, now you've met Gunther Bronzehorn, official blacksmith to the Princess Mi Amore Cadenza's Regiment of Auxiliaries."

She nodded back at the smithy. "He runs this place with his wife. She was probably working away in the back, and believe it or not, she's even bigger than he is."

Wow. Gunther had such an imposing presence, Artemis almost hoped she would never meet his wife.

Featherhooves raised her head-feathers and stretched out her wings. "Anyways, if there's nothing else, I guess that's ‘mission accomplished’ for me?"

Artemis nodded. "Spasibo, Ryadovoy Featherhooves. This is 'mission accomplished' for me, as well."

The Griffon smiled. "Alright, Specialist Sparkshower. You can find your way out of here OK? Then I'll see you around, olovyanny soldat."

Artemis smiled back, and the hen casually swung a clawed fist at her shoulder, creating a hollow 'clonk' against her bronze plate.

"Swing over to our barracks next time you've got some leave, Specialist. If you like a good party, I guarantee the 'Peregrines' will make it worth your while!"

She forcefully nodded her head, deliberately causing her bascinet visor to slam shut. "Thanks, I will!"

Exchanging a friendly nod to her new Griffon comrade, they both took off in opposite directions -- Featherhooves, back to Fort Newcastle-upon-Mare, and Sparkshower, back to Canterlot Palace.

Well, it looked like she’d found Anonymous an armorer!

Too bad it was so far away from the city. Newcastle-upon-Mare was only an hour outside of Canterlot by air, but probably three times that by stagecoach.

Hopefully, Sergeant Ebonshield had secured a training ground. And more importantly, hopefully she could convince Anonymous to follow through!

As nice as it was to make a new friend in Private First Class Featherhooves, it would be a waste if she came all the way out here and her VIP dropped the idea after all…

Well how about that? 49 consecutive chapters with a chapter a day! I didn't think I'd manage to keep it going this long on a daily schedule, but here we are. Unfortunately, 'here' has come with a noticeable uptick in errors and as the chapters have grown in length from 1500 to 4000 words per installment, it's quickly becoming unsustainable. For the time being, Everyday Life With Guardsmares will be switching to an every-other-day schedule. Thank you, everyone, for being here to enjoy the ride with me; there's a lot out there yet that I can't wait for you to see.