Honour Bound

---

Corporal Honour Bound wasn’t sure if this could be any more awkward.

It was Thursday morning, and she, along with Glamerspear, Sparkshower, and Ebonshield, were sitting at a table in the mostly-empty servants' dining hall in Canterlot palace, finishing off breakfast before Sergeant Ebonshield went on shift.

... Except that the sergeant had last night's 'dessert' with her.

"Would you like another tortilla, mi pichoncito?"

The young colt -- a pale-blue unicorn wearing the grey cloak of a novice wizard -- patted his barrel with one forehoof, smiling. "Oh, no, Miss Purity, thank you, but I'm stuffed."

With a grin, she leaned over and patted his barrel, too. "Not as stuffed as somepony else was last niiiiight."

She giggled, he chuckled, and then her hoof wandered a little lower down and ‘yeah that’s enough looking in that direction for now.’

Honour’s only consolation (if she could really call it that) was that, as awkward as this all was for her, it seemed to be affecting Glamerspear and Sparkshower much, much more. The cream-coated pegasus wasn’t really cream anymore -- she was beet-red, and trying her best to bite her tongue and look away from the public displays of affection without appearing rude to the sergeant's 'guest' -- all while trying to finish her own second plate. Meanwhile, the pink unicorn's snout was so scrunched up, the scullery mares could use the wrinkles as a washboard. Honour was half worried Glamerspear’s muzzle was just going to just implode inwards.

Meanwhile, at the 'bring your foal to work day' part of the table, more kissy-kissy nonsense ensued, with Ebonshield nipping at the neck of her young lover of less than half her age. Daring another glance, Honour saw the colt tremble a bit, his ears twitching as she continued to flirtatiously assault his nape. It was questionable if he’d ever laid hooves on a mare before last night -- or Monday night, if this was in fact the same colt who’d invited Ebonshield to the frat party at the Schola Magia; Ebonshield hadn't really taken the time to introduce him, so who knew.

His probable recent virginity redoubled the apparent awkwardness of the whole thing, but it also put Honour’s own frustrations in focus; as bad as this breakfast was with its uninvited guest, last night's date with Castlerook had almost been worse.

The corporal had gone through the trouble of dressing up, but once again, just as on Sunday night, she had lost her nerve somewhere along the way. As a result, she’d ended up with an evening full of noncommittal pleasantries. At least Castlerook stopped telling her stories of what was going on with her old friends in Fillydelphia -- which meant she stopped being tempted to drown out the memories with liquor. And he’d also managed to subtly make it clear that he was looking forward to heading back there when his Gala-specific posting was done. Back outside Honour’s quarters, even though it was obvious that -- once again -- nothing was going to happen, he'd also less-subtly made it clear that he wanted her to come with him.

That was the biggest can of worms he'd opened so far.

One thing Honour had been certain of for a long while was that she never wanted to go back. But lately, with how she’d been feeling, she was starting to waver on that point. Either way, she hadn't committed. And Castlerook hadn't insisted. So it was another frustrating night; just Honour and her pillow, alone with her thoughts.

‘What am I doing with my life?’

‘What do I want -- from Castlerook, or anypony else?’

"... All right, mi chico y mi cuaternio. I can see that it is time for duty with the Engineer Royal..."

‘Oh, thank Celestia, it's just a few minutes to eight.’

Ebonshield got to her hooves and nodded to everypony at the table, with a special muzzle-to-muzzle goodbye for her foal-toy. "Please do not stand up because of me. Enjoy the breakfast. I will see you all in the afternoon. And, chico, you have all your things, yes?"

The young unicorn nodded. "Yes, Miss Purity."

That earned him a reassuring hoof-pat on the back. "Good. I look forward to our next encounter, mi amor."

As Ebonshield left the room, swishing her tail, Glamerspear leaned over to stare, wide-eyed, in Honour’s direction. With her snout still about to pop back into her head, she nodded sharply in the direction of the enraptured colt.

‘Well, what does she want me to do? Flush him out of here like a receding tide?’

Honour nodded right back at Glamerspear’s half-eaten breakfast. "Finish your plate, Specialist."

‘She's got to learn to hold her damn temper.’

‘It's just one little wizardling colt, what's he going to do?’

"So, uh, about Miss Purity -- have you mares known her very long?"

‘Oh, Tartarus, he's going to try to chat us all up.’

And after happening to swing into a mare who definitely did buck on the first date, he must’ve thought he was the cock of the trot.

Glamerspear blinked at Honour and somehow sucked her face in even more, before silently going back to her breakfast, as she barely stopped her eyes from popping out of her head. Sparkshower was still far too rosy-cheeked at all the making out she’d just witnessed to even think about replying.

That left the corporal to answer the colt's question, which still hung in the air.

"Only for a couple of weeks."

He lifted his eyebrows up, perhaps surprised by the answer. "Ah."

Or maybe he just had no idea what to say next to a group of three mares.

Honour glanced down at what was left of her own meal, pushing a couple of cherry tomatoes around with her muzzle. Glamerspear had insisted that she take the corporal out dress-shopping that morning, but what was even the point? The Gala would be over almost as soon as it started, and nopony would notice the brown mare drinking in the corner, no matter what she was wearing. Castlerook would be too busy on duty to hang out with her. Was he ready to make a real move on her if he wasn't, though? The Gala took up a lot of the palace rooms, but not so many that rumors didn't always swirl about couples disappearing for an hour or two.

Ebonshield's colt of the hour let out another question. "... And, uh, what are you guys, like a platoon or something? Palace security?"

Honour could see Glamerspear's eyes go even wider, and she could practically hear the specialist’s teeth grinding against each other. Sparkshower, at least, was returning to a normal color, though she was still pointedly paying all attention to her plate.

The group may have been in public at the moment, but Eb and this colt had not been quiet last night. As much as Honour was glad to not be hung over this morning, a little booze might've actually allowed her to sleep through her own frustrations -- and her neighbour's noisy emanations. Sparkshower shared the other wall with the sergeant, so she must've heard every grunt and moan, too. Maybe that's why she took off somewhere early that morning before anypony else woke up.

With one of the tomatoes in her mouth, Honour lifted her head back up and looked over at the colt. "We're VIP bodyguards for a palace dignitary."

He nodded, happy to at least have an answer, however terse. "Oh, that's pretty cool. Who is it?"

Honour shook her head. "Can't say."

Smirking as if he was in on the joke, he lifted a hoof and tapped it on his muzzle. "Ahh, heh, yeah, I get it, top secret stuff, heh." Apparently pleased with her answer, he took a moment to glance around the dining hall.

Honour left him to his inspection and looked down the row at Sparkshower. "Hey, Sparkshower..."

With just small patches of red left on her cheeks, Artemis silently looked up, mouth full of omelette.

"... Where did you scurry off to earlier this morning?"

Honour’s question erased the final traces of scandalized shock and allowed something resembling a smile to show itself. "Oh, I went to the post office, Corporal. I wanted to catch the first mail delivery of the day."

She didn’t volunteer any more, so the earth pony just replied with a knowing nod. Must've written another letter to her coltfriend. She seemed chipper enough about it, but Sparkshower seemed uncharacteristically quiet. If she really was happy, she would have gone on to talk about the letter a bit.

A few moments passed in relative silence, with just the background hum and buzz of a few dozen other palace servants and a couple of guards who, like their gang, were a little too sleepy-faced to make the trek all the way over to the barracks mess hall, and had chosen to grab a quick breakfast closer by. The place had a calming effect on Honour, which was a bit strange. A regular pony would be excited. New dress! Big gala! Getting back in the dating scene with an old flame!

Not her, though. And it just didn’t feel right.

Nothing really seemed to excite Honour any more -- except when she was on duty. The Royal Engineer was probably the strangest Very Important Pony who'd ever been served by the Royal Guard -- and he wasn't even a pony. But, despite being almost completely focused on his own affairs, he was still a surprisingly considerate employer. It would even be fair to call him charming. Who else would send flowers and an apology to a guard after an argument that she started? Or ask his retainers to do anything more than just stand around and look tough, or maybe intimidate some plebs on his behalf?

"Hey, so uh, heh, maybe this is a long shot, but..."

Ebonshield sure picked a talkative colt. Didn't she say she liked it when they were noisy, though? Last week during that drink-and-meet?

It was all a bit hazy.

With a dung-eating grin on his face, the novice wizard waggled his hooves out in front of him. "...Do any of you mares also play Hyperspace Hyperwars?"

Before Honour could reflect on what that implied about Eb's activities at the frat party last night, Glamerspear burst up in her seat. "Oh for Celestia's sake! NO, we don't play Hyperspace Hyperwars, or Ogres & Oubliettes, or Dragons & Dragons, or Friendship: The Conclave, or any of that nerdy crap!"

Gritting her teeth and sitting up high, she loomed maniacally over the shocked young colt. "You aren't mister magic-hooves with the mares, you're not our friend, you're not even supposed to be eating here in the servants' mess! You're just our sergeant's latest stud. And we don't wanna hear about it, okay?! So just lay off!" After that rant, she took a deep breath, and her snoot seemed to finally unscrunch itself a little bit.

Honour lifted an eyebrow and leaned over. "You know, for someone who's not into 'nerdy crap', Glamerspear, you sure seem to know the terminology pretty well."

The specialist shot her an incensed glare. "I have three brothers. And they were all into that stuff when I was growing up." Shaking her head, she rolled her eyes up and stared at the ceiling. "You would not be-lieeeve how often I got told to 'play nice' with them and join in whatever flavor-of-the-week nonsense game they were into."

Eb's colt-toy proceeded to say precisely the worst thing he could possibly say at that moment.

"So you have played Hyperspace Hyperwars? We actually run regular campaign sessions on Friday nights, and we have some free tables that could use a few more players, if you're interested..."

Honour swore she could see smoke starting to come out of Glamerspear's ears.

‘Forget awkward, this is hilarious.’

"...If you don't have an army, I know Chad -- Chad Thunderhorn, he's graduating this year -- is looking to sell some of his collection. I think he's got-"

"SHUT UP, DWEEB!"

Cringing, the pink unicorn threw her hooves up to her head. "... Just, stop talking already! Celestia, I've got a bad enough headache as it is from last night without you upgrading it to a migraine with your crap."

‘A headache from last night?’

Glamerspear’s room wasn't adjacent to Sergeant Ebonshield's, so she shouldn't have been too bothered. Besides, if she really wanted to shut out the noise she probably knew a spell to shut out sound. It was one of those common utility spells every unicorn seemed to pick up for when they needed a moment of peace, or some time to commiserate in private.

Honour couldn’t help herself but ask. "What happened last night?"

Glamerspear scoffed. "Guh! What happened was me wracking my brains to try to figure out how that Ignacio guy pulled off his trick back in the you-know-where. You saw me with that 'De Magia Unicornis' book out, didn't you? I was up reading that thing until after midnight."

'Oh, so that's what this is all about.'

She was probably not actually all that frustrated about Sergeant Ebonshield getting laid or having the sarge's leftovers hanging around past their welcome. Just like when she’d tried to power through the manaburn, it wasn’t the personal, but the professional problem that was driving her up the wall.

Releasing her head, Glamerspear gestured in frustration with her forehooves. "It's infuriating! I've almost finished reading that thing from cover to cover, but I'm still coming up empty on how he managed that sorcery. Gah!"

Honour didn’t really know what to say; sure, she knew a bit about unicorn magic, but not enough to have any kind of real discussion on spells. What the batpony 'Balladeer of Ghosts' had done was unlike anything the Royal Guard's unicorns performed, at least as far as she knew.

The other horny-pony at the table, apparently still not quite getting Specialist Glamerspear's unsubtle 'hint' to keep quiet, piped up. "Uh, what -- what was this sorcery?"

Honour had to give the colt credit -- he was tenacious. Probably explained why he was able to overlook "Miss Purity's" bat-wings, foreign accent, and alien grasp of Equestrian culture. Then again, despite her age, she was a good-looking mare, and probably a pretty aggressive pick-up artist, too.

Glamerspear scrunched up her face, her horn glowing, and seemingly half ready to blast Eb's colt-toy out of his chair. "Grrr..."

Suddenly, her horn-light winked off, yet somehow it felt like things had just gotten more dangerous.

"OKAY, college colt, you wanna hear the details? Try this brain teaser on for size:"

She tried to put on a mean smirk through her angry-face, which only resulted in a really strange-looking grimace. Wearing it all the same, she laid everything out for the colt who didn't know when to quit.

"... A blind sorcerer stands in front of a big sandpit in an arena. A creature, of a type and example that he's never encountered before, walks into the room, and within just a minute or two, the blind sorcerer magically sculpts a pile of sand to not just look like the creature, but to move gracefully just like they would. All without touching or speaking or interacting or even getting closer than a hundred hooves to the subject. How'd he do it?"

The young Schola student tilted his head sideways, frowning. "Is the sand-pit magical in any way?"

Glamerspear shook her head. Somehow, restating the problem out loud for another mind seemed to have brought down her temper a bit.

"No -- not as far as I could tell, anyways, and I'm pretty good at aura-sensing." Grinning, she wiggled her eyebrows. "...Oh, and not only has the blind-sorcerer never encountered the creature before, but the creature is just standing there the whole time -- the sorcerer makes his sand-pile move in ways that the creature could, but hasn't, know what I mean?"

Tapping a hoof against his chin, the colt nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I get it... This really happened?"

Glamerspear almost managed a smile as she pointed at Bound and Sparkshower. "Uh-huh. They were there, and so was 'Miss Purity,' too. So what's your answer, mister college colt?"

After a few more moments of hemming and hawing, the young wizard let out a sigh. "I... I dunno. Building a golem that looks like a subject usually takes a lot of time and preparation, and requires the mage to examine the subject to be copied. To make it actually behave like a subject requires that the mage collect a piece of them, too -- usually a bit of hair or fur."

Shrugging his shoulders, he shook his head. "... I dunno, maybe there's some way even a blind mage could use magic to shape a copy of something. But when you say the golem 'moved' like the creature, what do you mean? Did it talk like the subject?"

"No, it just howled and groaned. It was combat training -- 'Miss Purity' duelled with the sand-thing, and it moved and fought like the real one could have."

The colt narrowed his eyes. "'Could have,' hmm... Almost sounds like Method Magic."

‘Like what now?’

Even Glamerspear seemed confused. "What magic?"

"Method Magic; they teach it in first year. It's the idea that magical spells should work 'as if' they were the real thing." Smiling, he continued. "You know, like how a magical fireworks spell behaves as if it was real fireworks going off."

Honour’s unicorn squadmate scowled. "Well, duh, it's a magical fireworks spell."

The colt shook his head. "Yeah, but it's more complicated than that. Look, I'm not really -- I did okay in that class, but I'm maybe not the best pony to explain it. In Constantine Gloriousson's 'The Method,' a mage uses their own life experience to create spells. The goal is to recall real things similar to what they desire to create, and then mentally import that reality to craft the finished spell." Raising an eyebrow, he laid one hoof on the table. "So, even though your blind mage had never met this creature before, maybe they had encountered -- or just been described -- something similar enough to base the sand-copy on?"

Glamerspear thought for a second, then dismissed him with a dry tone. "Except that the mage is blind. He didn't even really realize the creature was in the room -- we all entered as a group along with it -- and later, when the mage met the creature afterwards, he was surprised to realize its actual height."

‘There goes that theory, then,’ Honour supposed.

"Oh, hmm... Uh... Maybe he used Ray Casting, then? Though I'm not sure how..."

Glamerspear didn’t look optimistic. "This another first-year-university abstract magical theorem? The sand-sculpting mage wasn't fresh out of the Schola, ya know."

Before she could shut him off, he protested. "No, no! This is really interesting stuff! You haven't heard of Ray Casting? It's really cool!"

She scoffed back at him. "What, like an elementalist's Scorching Ray? Kid, I'm in the Royal Guard. I might be a conjurer who never attended mage school, but I know how the Schools of Magic work -- and I've seen plenty of Scorching Rays get let off; even tried it once or twice myself."

That got a chuckle out of the colt. "No, it's not like that at all. Maybe it's not the best name, but Ray Casting, as described by Bearapple, is the idea that we can't observe anything directly; we can only observe stuff by bouncing something off of it." He tapped his hoof on the dining table. "Like, when we look at this, we're not directly observing the wooden table, because the table isn't actually doing anything itself. His proposal was that we are really just seeing the sunlight coming in from the window and bouncing off of it."

‘That's an interesting concept.’

Intrigued, Honour interjected. "Like an echo?"

Leaning over to look past Glamerspear at the corporal, the colt smiled even more. "Just like an echo! But with light in this case, instead of sound. Anyways, the idea is that if you want to make someone believe there's a table in front of them, you don't have to actually make a table, you just have to make something that reflects light, echoes sound, and pushes back against pressure like a table would."

Glamerspear rolled her eyes. "You're just using fancy words to describe what an illusionist does anytime they cast a spell. How'd the blind mage know how the creature 'reflected' light, if the mage couldn't see?"

‘And there goes the young wizard's smile.’

"Oh, right..."

It seemed that Glamerspear's puzzle probably wouldn’t be solved by a first-year Schola student with just a bunch of introductory classes under his saddle. Honour couldn’t really fault his trying, though. Most ponies in the Royal Guard came out of 'shoe camp thinking they knew everything and that they could fix anything if they put their mind to it, too. Herself included.

Scritching awkwardly at his crest, the colt shook his head. "... I guess... none of the things I can think of really work if he's blind. But, I mean, if he's blind, and didn't use magic to overcome that blindness, then maybe he got help from somepony... or some-thing, like a spirit... that could see the creature?"

In a final blow, Glamerspear shook her head again. "That still doesn't explain how he made the sand move without seeing the creature move."

The colt looked defeated. "I... yeah. Even the spirit animating a golem needs a link to the original creature to make it act like the original. I guess I'm stumped, too. Sorry."

Glamerspear chuckled amiably.

Honour wondered if she didn't really just need somepony to talk to about this -- even if it was somepony who maybe knew even less than she did.

"Aw, don't whip yourself over it, kiddo. An old mage like that one has got a ton of tricks up his robes, ya know. You'll start picking up some tricks yourself, too, when you graduate." Taking a deep breath, she leaned back in her chair. "Anyways, I need to get my mind off of that problem for a bit. Corporal, you all ready to go dress shopping? Stores'll be opening in an hour or two. Didya want to get your mane done up or anything first?"

‘Excuse me?’

"Something wrong with my hair, now?"

Smirking slyly, Glamerspear squeezed her shoulders together. "Well, not wrong, just, a braid is kinda plain. You've got all that mane, but you just keep it bundled up all the time. Don't you want to do something more extravagant for the big party? And if you do, then we should get a sampler done of it now so it'll be easier to pick a dress that goes with it."

Honour shook her head. "Just the dress and some makeup will do fine. I'm not looking to win a pageant."

The specialist just waggled her eyebrows. "Not with that attitude. I keep telling ya, Honour, a little effort'll go a long way. Look at Sparkshower, over there, she's gonna have her mane done up special and Canterlot-like even though her coltfriend's from country-town Berry."

The pegasus in question leaned forward to look down the table with a smile on her face. "Oh, no, Huckleberry Pudding won't be coming to the Gala after all."

‘What!?’

It was genuinely disturbing that Sparkshower seemed pleased to say that, after how upset she was about him not replying before. ‘What's going on?’

Glamerspear frowned and turned around. "Whaddya mean ‘he's not coming’? You invited him, didn't you? Did that lame-o turn down a ticket to the Gala?"

Still smiling, Sparkshower shook her head. "He didn't turn it down, no -- but I knew he would, so I told him he didn't have to worry about trying to figure out how to tell me 'no,' and that I understood. That was what I mailed to him this morning!"

‘Awfully generous of her.’

Glamerspear scoffed. "Whaaa? But what about wanting to dance around the Grand Galloping Gala's Great Maypole, and stuff like that? You're just gonna let this chance slip you by, because your colt won't make the trip up to Canterlot?"

Sparkshower shook her head again, still smiling. "Of course not! I knew he wouldn't come, but I still wanted to do those things, so I asked somepony else!"

‘Uh-oh.’

Honour had a bad feeling about this.

Beaming broadly and bouncing happily in her seat, Sparkshower dropped the bomb. "I asked the Royal Engineer if he would like to dance the Maypole with me, and he agreed!"

Glamerspear's chin hit the table just as Honour slowly brought a hoof up to her forehead.

"Isn't he a generous gentlecolt?"

Of course. After an awkward evening and an awkward night and an awkward breakfast, why not finish it off with an awkward social catastrophe.

Glamerspear was so shocked that she actually went quiet. And Sparkshower was so completely unaware of what she'd done that she didn’t even recognize the sudden silence as a possible clue that maybe she'd made a mistake.

‘Looks like it's up to me.’

Rubbing her forehead, Honour started to check the facts. "Artemis. You asked the Royal Engineer to dance the Maypole with you, and when he accepted, wrote a letter telling your long-distance coltfriend that he didn't need to come because you found another dance-partner?"

She received an eager nod in response. "Yup! Everything's so much simpler this way, isn't it?"

‘No, you foalish young mare, everything's just become much more complicated.’

‘Especially since it's too late to stop the seven-thirty mail from going out.’

"You do realize that the Maypole is normally danced by lovers, Sparkshower?"

The faintest hint of concern appeared on her face. "Yes, but... you said the Royal Engineer wasn't interested in that! And he didn't make a big deal out of it, either."

Honour looked Sparkshower right in the eyes. "Did you tell him it's normally a dance for young couples?"

Her smile disappeared, and she licked her lips. "Not... exactly. I told him it was a traditional Equestrian spring tradition. He was worried he would mess up the dance steps, but I told him that it was very easy and that they always began the dance slowly with instructions for first-time participants!"

She knew she bent the rules a bit, but she still didn’t see the real problem.

"And did you tell your coltfriend you were going to be dancing the Maypole with your VIP?"

Sure enough, she nodded. "Yeah, of course!"

Honour really didn’t know what to do in the face of Artemis’ incredible innocence.

Glamerspear picked up the slack.

"SPARKS! You just sent a letter to your coltfriend telling him that you don't need him to come to Canterlot for the Gala, because you have a new lover now!"

The pegasus' brow dropped, and she looked puzzled. "I... no, I didn't write it like that, and Huckleberry won't think that -- I made it clear that Anonymous was a gentlecolt and--"

Glamerspear stood on her hind hooves and leaned over across Ebonshield's colt-toy to get up in Sparkshower's muzzle. "EVEN WORSE! Not only is he richer than your Huckleberry, more important than your Huckleberry, more available than your Huckleberry, he's also more considerate than your Huckleberry! Sparks, you just dumped your coltfriend by mail!"

Honour saw tears start form at the corner of Sparkshower's eyes.

"But... but..."

Glamerspear relented when she saw the pegasus start to turn, but, unfortunately, Honour couldn't leave it at that. There was an even bigger problem she wasn’t seeing.

"Sparkshower, the Royal Engineer may not be well-known yet, but he's still a member of the Blue Chamber Privy Council, and the Grand Galloping Gala is heavily covered by the press. If he innocently gets you a ticket to the opera as a partner instead of making you stand in the hallway as a guard on a cheap Thursday night revival, nopony will really notice. If he gets you a ticket to attend the Gala, that's not really a big deal either since everypony will just think him eccentric or generous for having invited all of his guards."

The pegasus’ teary eyes went wide when Honour plunged the dagger in. "But if you dance the Maypole with him, at the Gala, in full view of everypony else, then ponies will assume you're a committed couple."

Sparkshower's jaw started to quiver, and Honour was forced to twist the knife. There could be no half-measures with something this serious.

"And what's worse: he won't even realize it, because you knowingly concealed the truth from him."

The waterworks started on schedule.

"BUHHAHWAAAAAAAAAaaaa! No-n-n-nooooo-I-I-I-Ididntmeaaannnitlikethat. I jus- I jus- I jus thought that- that- that- this wuh-wuh-waaayyy my Huckleberry wouldn-wouldn't have to- to-Oh, my Huckleberry! Buhwaaaaaa!"

Brusquely shoving Ebonshield's hapless colt-toy out of the way so hard that his chair fell backwards onto the floor, Glamerspear clambered over in a rush to comfort her pegasus comrade. The pink unicorn gently patted Sparkshower's crest as she sobbed away.

".... I muh-muh-muh-miss hiim sooooo much an-an-an I jus- I jus- I jus- wanna make him haaaaaapppyyyyyy-wuhuhuhahaaaa..."

Honour would have gone over and comforted the distraught pegasus too, but she was too stunned by Sergeant Ebonshield’s sudden return to the dining room.

‘The Tartarus?’

‘It's a quarter after eight! She's supposed to be on duty right now.’

"Sarge? What are you doing here? Is something wrong?"

Surveying the scene of carnage before her -- an overturned dining chair, a young wizard colt sprawled on the ground not understanding what was going on, and Sparkshower bawling against Glamerspear's tuft -- Ebonshield was momentarily at a loss for words.

"I... ah. I have just come from the office of the Engineer Royal..."

Everypony looked up at her -- even Sparkshower managed to hold back her tears for a moment.

"...He said he was actually hoping that the Specialist Glamerspear would be on shift this morning, as he would greatly value her advice in the selection of a fashionable calling-card design. And he hoped that the Corporal Bound would accompany him and provide advice as well."

That wasn’t actually very surprising. Glamerspear, having already served as the Royal Engineer's fashion consultant, should probably have considered that Anonymous' number-one priority would be the situation with Major-General Hoofstrong before swapping shifts with Ebonshield. And Honour had been serving as the Royal Engineer's etiquette coach, too.

Still unsure of what exactly had just happened, the sergeant continued. "I informed him that you two were planning to make purchases for the Gala today, and he was most appreciative of the need to properly outfit the Corporal Bound. But he wondered if he might accompany you so that the trips might be combined, provided you would not find it intrusive." Lifting her eyebrows, Ebonshield looked at Honour. "This is what I have returned to inquire."

‘Well.’

‘It seems 'awkward' isn’t quite done with me yet.’

---

Suggested interlude music: Ariana Grande - 'Problem' [2014]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iS1g8G_njx8

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