Everyday Life With Guardsmares
Chapter 88
Previous Chapter Next ChapterHonour Bound
It'd been another long day. By the time Corporal Bound and Specialist Glamerspear actually arrived back at their palace quarters, it was almost six o'clock, and once again, Sparkshower had been left hanging, wondering when her shift was actually going to start. Well, she could wait a few minutes longer while Honour put away her purchases; the corporal planned to escort Sparkshower on-duty herself. Glamerspear could wait a bit downstairs, too, before she was relieved.
Picking out Honour’s dress, and the matching cape and fascinator, had taken the better part of three hours. Pulling the set delicately out of her saddle-bag, she removed the purchases from their paper boxes and laid them out on her bed to look them over. How Glamerspear had managed to get Honour to stuff herself into that tiny little scrap of red fabric, she honestly didn't know. It was the kind of thing a glittering pop star performing at a Los Pegasus casino in front of thousands of underage, whinnying fans would wear.
Or maybe a riverside Manehattan street-trotter...
At least the cape provided some modesty, though it too was a bit 'saltine,' as was the headgear. Honour figured it was the natural consequences of shopping with an ardent practitioner of the custom. And she would definitely be wearing panties if she didn't want to just be waving her plot in everypony's face on the dance floor.
If she even decided to get up and dance. She hadn't made her mind up about that quite yet.
Despite the time investment involved, the Royal Engineer had been polite and discreet about the whole dress-shopping thing. He'd even taken the both of them out for lunch afterwards, at one of Canterlot's innumerable canal-side patio cafés. It was a good thing, too, because as long as it had taken to pick out the corporal’s dress, designing his calling card had taken even longer. Although she’d delivered and received plenty of them, Honour really had no idea how much work and thought could be put into the little paper things.
Should the card be rectangular or oval? 'Fan-shapes' were also popular this season, he'd been told, and shown several examples before declining and settling on rectangular. That raised the question of the edges: should they be straight or scalloped? And would he like ribbon or thread sewn in? Should there be printed designs around the edges? Then it was time to look at the thousands of options for stock printed pictures of flowers or doves. Would the gentlecolt like his photograph on each card? And would sir like his name hoofwritten or in one of the standard typefaces (ligatures extra)? And of course that ink could be black, blue, red, silver, or gold...
Even the paper itself was a thing to be carefully picked! The color could be bright white, classic white, bone, ecru, eggshell, cream, ivory, sand -- and that was just the 'off-whites', never mind all the actual color-colors.
Meanwhile, the salespony had pushed the deluxe heavy-weight paper. 'Less prone to bending and turning up at the corners,' he'd said. 'Easier to prominently emboss,' he'd added, before also presenting the options for that little extra.
Sweet Celestia, they'd even talked about watermarking!
Glamerspear hadn't seemed quite as prepared for the Royal Engineer's card-shopping as she'd been for Honour’s dress-shopping. She was knowledgeable, and provided some decent advice, as well as feedback, but mostly it had been the salespony and Anonymous going back and forth on various design options with the salespony and the card-company's in-house graphic designer. When asked, Honour had given some opinions as well, but frankly she felt completely out of her depth. She’d almost wished she was being forced to drive the Royal Engineer's automobile instead, at break-neck speeds down some narrow, winding, Canterlot alley.
In the end, after two hours and the approval of both of his attendant guardsponies, he'd settled on a rectangular card, eighty-nine by sixty-four millimeter, with straight edges in the luxury three-hundred-gram eggshell cardstock. The corners were emphasized by border art in strong black ink: a curly design centred around three stylized rose blooms in the top-left, and the same curly design but with the rose-blooms replaced by cogwheels in the bottom-right. Offset slightly to the left in a retro 'Centaur' typeface was printed simply 'Anonymous, Royal Engineer of Equestria' with 'Canterlot Palace' beneath it. And to the right was embossed the Royal Seal of Equestria, a stylized sun with a crescent and star inside it, which he was entitled to use as a member of the government.
It would take a few days to prepare the three hundred copies he'd ordered, but the printer rushed out a few quick proofs for him to use in the immediate future. And, of course, a true gentlecolt couldn't simply carry cards like this around in his pocket -- he also purchased a small silver case for them as well.
At the end of it, the elated (but exhausted) salespony declared the design 'crisp, clean, and professional.' Glamerspear said she thought it was 'avant-garde' in its simplicity and use of firm pen lines instead of softer watercolors. As far as Honour could tell, it did what it needed to, and it got the point across -- but even she was surprised by the stark black on white. Not a common combination in colorful Canterlot.
Honour looked over her very red outfit for the Gala. It was slinky, coquettish, and outgoing. All attributes which she’d resolutely divorced over two years ago, and yet, here they were again. Maybe what Glamerspear had really succeeded in doing -- not that morning, but the previous night, with her little speech about 'taking it slow' with Castlerook -- was convincing the corporal that she could still have fun herself, even while being serious. With a sigh, Honour grabbed a hanger and gently put away next week's outfit. Even Anonymous, who'd suffered a heartbreak not unlike her own, yet worked a very serious job in a serious manner, managed to enjoy himself now and again. Including during combat training, of all times, but there was something invigorating about physical activity.
Well, if he could let loose, then so could she.
And if she couldn't, well, then that's what the Gala's open bar was for.
Stepping out of her bedroom, Corporal Bound found Sparkshower waiting at the door like a puppy-dog anxious to be let out for a walk. "I'm ready for duty, Corporal! Are you finished with what you needed to take care of?"
Honour nodded, but when Artemis reached for the door-handle, the earth pony cleared her throat. "Hold up, Specialist..."
The pegasus froze in place, and Honour stepped up next to her. "Have you prepared your apology to the Royal Engineer?"
Sparkshower nodded. "Yes, Corporal. The Sergeant helped me sort everything out. I'm ready to set things right... and to take what punishment may be coming for me."
Honour was really not sure what Ebonshield could have done to help Sparkshower give an appropriate Equestrian apology. Still, she seemed contrite enough. With another nod, she bid her open the door and the two of them walked silently downstairs.
She hoped that Sparkshower's apology went over well. It was true that the Royal Engineer had been extremely forgiving of her own various mistakes -- the Battle of Newstirrup Bridge and her blow-up a few days later, for example -- and had even laughed Ebonshield off the hook when she’d tried to apologize for messing up the day in the Rookery. He'd been sympathetic to Glamerspear's mana poisoning injury, as well.
But this was a different kind of situation. It wasn't just a professional mistake; Artemis had lied to him, and concealed the truth for her own, selfish interests. And that really struck home for the corporal.
Anonymous, their Very Important Pony who wasn't actually a pony, had been through a romantic betrayal very much similar to Honour’s own. She had wondered if she should tell Sparkshower about his experience -- she hadn't been in the dress shop to hear it earlier today -- but decided against it, at least until after she'd given her apology. If she was nervous, it would only make her doubly so. And it shouldn't change what she needed to say.
Honour sighed, internally. It was just up to her to step in if a disaster was about to unfold.
The two of them came to a stop before the Royal Engineer's double chamber doors and Sparkshower looked over at the corporal expectantly. Motioning with her head for Artemis to proceed, the pegasus knocked, and exchanged the traditional Royal Guard refrain with Glamerspear on the inside.
"By the glory of the Morning Dawn, I hereby relieve you at this post."
"By the peace of the Evening Dusk, I stand relieved."
However, although the armored pegasus left, Glamerspear stayed put, and Honour entered the room as well. She wanted everypony here to hear this, just in case. Ebonshield left a note saying she was making a quick trip to the Rookery, so she'd have to get the debriefing from someone else later.
Anonymous was at his desk, reading over a sheet of handwritten paper.
Honour cleared her throat. "Sir, could we have a moment of your time?"
He looked up and realized there were three of them in the room, and lowered the paper onto his desk. "Certainly, Corporal. Is there something wrong?"
She looked over at the wayward pegasus. "Specialist Sparkshower has something she needs to tell you, sir."
The heavily-armored pony stepped forward. "Sir! I... wanted to apologize for something I did yesterday. I made a mistake..."
Anonymous cocked an eyebrow but said nothing. Honour couldn’t see Sparkshower's throat behind her gorget, but she did hear her swallow.
"When I asked you if you wanted to dance the Maypole with me at the Gala, which is something I shouldn't have done in the first place, I neglected to mention something very important, about the nature of that activity, which would probably have changed your answer." She shrank down in her helmet, her head almost disappearing beneath the bronze. "...It's actually a dance normally reserved for lovers, sir." Even as the specialist recoiled inside her armor, Honour could still make out a pair of very rosy cheeks.
Frowning, the Royal Engineer got up out of his seat and walked around his desk, then leaned back up against it, half sitting on it, his arms folded in front of him. He took a moment to process what Artemis had said, before he replied, still looking confused. "Are you saying that you were propositioning me last night, Specialist?"
Glamerspear stifled back a snort. Well, it wouldn't have been the first time one of his bodyguards had done that.
Sparkshower's face had gone completely red. "Oh, goodness, no sir!"
Realizing the impact of that phrasing, she started to babble. "...I ...I mean not that I wouldn't, sir, you understand, but that I wasn't. I didn't intend it that way. And that's why I shouldn't have asked..."
She shook her head, unable to look him in the eyes. "...I just wanted to be able to say that I'd once danced the Maypole at the Grand Galloping Gala."
Anonymous walked over towards Honour’s group, stepping around the sofa to stand just a few hooves away from Sparkshower.
The corporal could hear the nervous pegasus gulp again, but the Royal Engineer looked sad, not angry. "Specialist, I don't mean to pry, but you're still having some trouble with your long-distance coltfriend, aren't you?"
With downcast eyes, she nodded her head, and spoke quietly. "Yes, sir."
The Royal Engineer casually slipped his hands into his trouser pockets. "You were hoping to dance the Maypole with him, but he won't be attending the Gala."
As she shook her head, the bronze pieces of her head armor gently brushed against each other. "No, sir, I don't think he will."
Looking sympathetic, he sighed. "Well, for your sake, Specialist, I hope you can manage to sort things out on that front. Although, I have to admit, I'm a little disappointed." With his hands still in his pockets, he nonchalantly brushed his leather-shoed foot back and forth on the carpet.
Before he could go on, Sparkshower clattered forward and launched into an apology. "I know, sir. I'm ever so sorry to have let you down like this. And I know my personal troubles are no excuse for deceiving you, sir."
Surprisingly, Anonymous shrugged. "Oh, no, I'm not really disappointed about that, Specialist. There's been no harm done -- it's only been a day, after all. I suppose this is one of those situations like the Opera? There may have been some gossip afterwards?"
He looked expectantly past Sparkshower, over at Honour and Glamerspear, so the corporal nodded. "There would have been talk, sir, yes."
Anonymous nodded in turn. "Too bad... No, I'm disappointed because I was actually really looking forward to it."
‘He was?’
Sparkshower lifted her head so quickly that her visor slipped its catch and slammed down in front of her face with a loud clang.
Honour couldn’t help but blurt out in surprise. "You were?!"
The Royal Engineer shrugged and bobbed his head sideways. "Sure. Maybe I've mentioned this before, but although I've been here for almost a year, it feels like I've been living at Equestria rather than in it."
Pulling his hands out of his pockets, he casually gestured in front of him. "I was a little excited about actually starting to immerse myself in the culture a bit. Get my feet wet. Start to understand Equestria as it is -- so that I can help build it into something better with the knowledge I have from my world."
Anonymous placed one hand on his hip, held the other up in the air, and playfully dance-stepped around in a circle. A biped's steps for the Maypole, undoubtedly; Sparkshower must've already worked them out with him last night.
"A traditional folk dance seemed like an easy first step. But I wouldn't want to jeopardize your existing relationship." Pausing, he narrowed his eyes. "...You haven't told your coltfriend that we were to dance together, have you?"
The armored pegasus chuckled awkwardly as she squeakily lifted her bascinet visor back up. "I did, actually. But I'm going to send him another letter right away!"
The Royal Engineer smiled. "Oh, good. Wouldn't want a jilted lover showing up at my doorstep, ha ha. No, I suppose I'll have to find something else."
‘He wants an easy 'in' on Equestrian culture?’
Honour wasn’t sure what to suggest. Glamerspear just shrugged when Bound looked over at her, hoping for inspiration. Well, maybe she could figure out something later. At least the situation was resolved for now.
Honour was about to take her leave when Sparkshower unexpectedly spoke up again. "Actually, sir, if you really wanted to dance, there is another one we could do. It's always played at the Gala. And it doesn't have any romantic implications any more, either!"
‘Oh no, mare, what are you doing?’
Horrifyingly, the Royal Engineer perked up, apparently interested by whatever hackneyed plan she'd come up with. "Really? Which one's this, then?"
Honour waited to find out herself, before she’d step in and shut down yet another foalish enterprise.
"It's called the Lipizzaner Waltz! It's a beautiful and stately pairs' dance; it used to be scandalous but now it's considered a classical ballroom performance. It's got an easy basic step, too!"
Honour knew what a waltz looked like, though this particular one was unfamiliar. Clearing her throat, she looked at Sparkshower and nodded towards their VIP. "Specialist, it might be a bit difficult for the Royal Engineer to actually dance with a pony owing to the height difference from walking on four legs versus two." She glanced back at Anonymous. "The Maypole is an exception because the dancers just circle around each other holding a ribbon."
Before Honour could gauge his reaction, Sparkshower interjected. "But that's just it! The Lipizzaner Waltz is danced entirely on the hind legs! Even the bits where you have to let go of your partner for a few steps! That's what makes it so tricky to do right -- for a pony, anyways. But it's beautiful when executed properly, and I bet you could learn the steps in a snap, sir."
Anonymous chuckled. "And you know them already, do you, Specialist Sparkshower?"
The pegasus nodded. "Yes, sir! I attended a Griffonese dance school in Canterlot during the two-month summer break three years ago!"
That got her a surprised look from everypony, and she went rosy-cheeked again. "... It was my mom's idea. I think maybe she thought learning something dainty like dancing would discourage me from wanting to join the Royal Guard."
Honour’s mother had a very different idea of 'discouragement.' And from the bewildered look on Glamerspear's face, she imagined the unicorn’s parents were the same. Just how the buck did such a sweet, innocent mare with loving, caring parents wind up joining the Royal Guard?
Believing the hype, probably. Or, who knows, maybe it was somehow all completely different when you're a pegasus. Things could look a lot different from up in the air.
Looking a bit embarrassed, Sparkshower concluded. "But I think, if anything, learning under Mister Tanetsov helped get me ready for army life. He was a very strict instructor. And the Lipizzaner dance was always my favorite!"
Over by the sofa, Anonymous nodded. "All right, I'm game. But we've only got a week, Specialist -- and I'm going to need you to deliver my calling-card to Major-General Hoofstrong nice and early tomorrow morning so we can get things sorted out on that front." Stepping back towards his desk, he grabbed the sheet of paper he was holding earlier, and waved it around in the air. "As soon as I've figured out exactly what to write on it and have you say to her representative, that is. Let's see if I can get this cleared up before it gets too dark, then you can show me this 'Lipizzaner Waltz' on the balcony, yes?"
A heavy bronze sabot clanged into an equally heavy bronze helmet. "Yes, sir!"
Their VIP smiled and started back towards his chair, before pausing and turning to look at Honour. "Was there anything else, Corporal?"
She felt like she’d just dodged one spear only to find three more heading her way. Still, though, Sparkshower was right, as far as Honour knew. Nopony was going to say anything about a known bachelor VIP having a single, courtly dance with one of their guardsmares -- provided it wasn't around the Maypole with ribbons in their mouths. Worst-case, a photograph winds up in the gossip rags making some easily-dismissed suggestions.
After a moment with her thoughts, Honour Bound shook her head at the Royal Engineer and waved a forehoof at Glamerspear to beckon her back upstairs. "No, sir. We'll be upstairs if you need us."
He nodded. "Very good, Corporal. Although I may perhaps send up a draft of this letter with Specialist Sparkshower later tonight. I'd appreciate an honest opinion on it in the morning."
Bodyguard, cultural guide, automobile-driver, sparring partner, and now proof-reader? If she wore any more hats on this assignment there wouldn't be any left for all the nobleponies at the Gala.
Honour saluted before exiting the room. "Yes, sir. Good night, sir."
Suggested viewing: "Vienna's Famed Lipizzaner Stallions", by Viking River Cruises
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OeTPKllPtlE
