Artemis Sparkshower

---

Specialist Artemis Sparkshower was not one-hundred-percent certain she understood what was going on.

"Okay, I've marked it off. Now, we'll cut it down..."

The Royal Engineer did understand, though, and he was giving Artemis a play-by-play report that made things a little less muddled, at least. His car was raised up on stands a good seven hooves up in the air, and she was hovering in place beside him underneath it, helping to hold up a long, brass pole that he'd just marked off with chalk. But now he’d decided to take the pole all by himself before stepping over to his workbench, laying it in a heavy iron vise.

"Could you hand -- uh, hoof -- me the hacksaw over there?" The Royal Engineer pointed at a toolbox on the ground, and Artemis fluttered over to grab the tool in question while he clamped the pole in place.

Returning to her Very Important Pony, she hovered and watched as he put on his safety goggles, and then began to work.

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‘Cutting metal sure is noisy!’

And slow, too -- four full strokes and he'd barely made a small notch in the brass pole. Anonymous paused for a second to wipe his brow on his sleeve. It'd been a long couple of hours, working in the garage. So far, he had drilled holes in the carriage near the driver's seat, measured several brass poles by test-fitting them underneath, cut those same poles down, and then threaded the ends with a die so that they could be bolted together.

Artemis was sweating a bit herself, and she wasn’t even doing most of the work; she was just helping out by lifting and holding things. The garage was poorly ventilated, not really being designed for this kind of major undertaking. It had been a very warm spring day today, too. Artemis would have been sweating a lot more if the Royal Engineer hadn't insisted that she leave her armor behind.

"Damn, these bars are tough. Or maybe it's the saw that's weak. You know, I probably should've ordered a hollow tube for lightness, but I didn't want to take a chance on it bending or breaking." Exhaling forcefully, he pulled off his work gloves and began to unbutton his denim overalls. "This rod is going to be controlling the brakes, after all. Can't have those failing while we're driving about."

Tearing his shoulders and arms out of the heavy work clothes, he slipped his gloves back on. Now all he had covering his skin up top was a simple white sleeveless shirt, with his legs still in the overalls.

"Ahh, that's better. It's hot in here." With a satisfied sigh, he continued to saw, sending little shavings of metal showering down on the floor.

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Eyes down on the work, he talked in-between huffs and puffs of air. "By the way, Specialist, is that a different weapon you've got with you today?"

Despite being ordered to leave her armor upstairs, she hadn't come completely unprepared for a fight. After all, that was her primary duty!

"Yes, sir. It's a magic weapon: the 'Bradamante' lance, made by Anthony Theolonicus almost three hundred years ago. Major Lady Growler, the commander of the Valkyries, gave it to me yesterday after we ran into her at the Spa Dalecarlia."

She pulled the item in question off of her back and presented it with her forehooves, still in its 'compact' form.

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"It sounds impressive; that was very generous of her. Was there a particular motivation for the gift?"

Artemis shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed. "Lady Growler said it was an apology for having accused me of spying at the Watchtower, sir. And a reward for having helped to beat Kilfeather; apparently, her Valkyries had a rivalry at the MXP games with his Air Superiority Wing."

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"Interesting. And it's magic, you say? Is that what the stirrup's for?"

"Yes, sir, it activates-"

‘Wait.’

‘He knows what a stirrup is?’

Surely not. She must have misheard.

"... Sorry, you said 'stirrup,' sir?"

Anonymous paused and glanced up from his work, then pointed at the device. "Yes, a stirrup. As on a saddle? That's what that is, dangling from that strap, isn't it?"

‘He…’

‘He knows what a saddle is, too?’

How was that even possible!? Her Very Important Pony wasn't from this world, and he wasn't even a pony! How could he possibly know about stirrups and saddles…?

As she watched the tall, strong, swift, smart, and amiable alien saw away, his arms glistening with sweat in the light from the magical torches, she started to feel a bit light-headed.

‘I... I have to land right now.’

Swallowing, Artemis alighted on one of the tall stools nearby, but her wings refused to fold up. Hopefully, he wouldn’t notice. She lowered her voice to almost a whisper, even though the garage was empty inside but for the two of them.

"... Uhm... You... You know what a saddle is, sir?"

Anonymous chuckled as if she’d said something silly. "Heh. Of course I do, Specialist. We have them in my world, too."

‘He does!’

‘And they do!?’

With a smile, he returned to his sawing.

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"You could even say I'd used one, though that might be pushing things. It was at a tourist ranch, just a little pleasure ride for about an hour. I didn't fall off or anything like that, but I didn't really feel like I was in control of anything with the reins."

‘HE'S RIDDEN IN A SADDLE WITH REINS AND STIRRUPS!’

‘AND HE ADMITTED IT OPENLY!’

‘WHAT is going on right now?!’

Was it a prank? Did Lily or Purity, or maybe even Honour put him up to this? But how did they even know that she was into-

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"It was fun, but all things being equal, I think I prefer riding my Mustang."

Okay, now that last one there didn't make really any sense at all to her. Unless Anonymous had a formerly-enlisted-Royal-Guardspony-who-became-an-officer-later locked away in a secret room somewhere…

Locked away, maybe, with a bit in their mouth, a bridle around their muzzle, a saddle on their back...

Waiting to be ridden...

Longing... to be ridden...

...maybe even with a crop...

Artemis found her mouth growing dry; she was panting heavily.

‘No, no!’

‘The Royal Engineer isn’t that kind of pony, he couldn't be!’

‘... Except he isn’t a pony, at all.’

‘Oh, hurricanes!’

It was all so overwhelming. There she was, just a day after… Well, she didn’t even want to think about what day this was after; not yet.

Anyways, there she was, and she’d just found out that the colt she was assigned to guard, the colt who took her out to the theater as a friend rather than a servant, the colt who offered her a free ticket to the Grand Galloping Gala as a full guest, the colt who had never been anything less than a pure-hearted and soft-spoken gentlepony...

That colt had experimented with... tackplay. And he spoke freely about it! Which is what was truly remarkable. Was it simply the confidence that came from experience? Or was he so confident and assured of his position that he didn't fear any potential social embarrassment? Or, since he seemed to be speaking of an event that happened before arriving in Equestria, maybe his society was just more open-minded about that sort of thing.

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"Anyways, I'm losing my focus. You can show me the lance tomorrow, when we go down into the Rookery. Let's get these connecting rods bolted into place before I'm too worn out to go for a jog afterwards."

Seeing the Royal Engineer in a new light, albeit a confusing one, Artemis watched her VIP saw through the brass pole.

‘Maybe…’

Artemis took a deep breath.

Maybe when she was feeling a little more level-headed about her situation, and when she was in private again, she could ask him a little more about his experience at the 'tourist ranch.'

---

Heads up: Lily's segment contains clop. Clop segment ends at Purity Ebonshield.

Lily Glamerspear

---

Suggested background music: The Rascals - 'Mustang Sally' [1966]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E2NLNxTVLAI

---

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This was the squeakiest bed Specialist Lily Glamerspear had been in since 'shoe camp. But that wasn’t really what should have been the foremost thing on her mind right then.

"Ahhh!" Another electrifyingly pleasurable shock coursed through her spine as the colt on top of the unicorn rammed home another bullseye.

"Yeah, who's your sire?"

Lily hadn't realized Mailedhoof was a talker. He didn't say much last time, but then again, she didn't give him much to talk about, and she didn't really pay attention after she’d done her duty with the 'amuse-bouche' appetizer.

This time, he'd gone straight for the main course.

The talking wasn't really doing much for her, for no particular reason, but she played along for his enjoyment. "Ooh, you are, Monty, you are."

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SLAP

A forehoof swiftly slapped Lily’s plot, just behind her cutie mark, and she bit her lower lip as the sudden contact triggered an echo of the earlier sensation.

"...Mmfff!"

On top of her, Montgomery Mailedhoof leaned into her ear and growled as he thrust in again. "That's no way to address a superior officer."

Pushing back as best she could, Lily turned her head and moaned in a breathy voice. "Ohhhmmm... You are, Captain, you are... sir." She could feel her eyes roll back into her head as he plowed deeper inside, stimulating areas that had been neglected for far too long.

"Yes, I am..."

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Another grunt, and even more hip-on-hip contact made her momentarily lose control of her neck muscles, and her head collapsed against the bedspread. No wonder Lily barely remembered the first encounter, except for the explosions going off in her head. Captain Montgomery Mailedhoof was dynamite between the sheets, and the colt knew it, too.

"... Now, tell me you want it."

‘Buck, do I ever.’

"I want it."

Mailedhoof scratched her itch like no other colt she’d been with.

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And from her oral experience last week, she knew it wasn't so much the length as he knew just the right angle to-- "MMMMFFff!" --Yeah, just the right angle to get it where she needed it most.

"How badly do you want it, Specialist?"

‘Oh so now we’re using ranks?’

He must have a thing for enlisted ponies; maybe subordinate officers, too.

"I want it, sir..."

That got her another pleasing thrust, though it wasn’t quite a-- "Ahhh!" And that was the electric-pulse spot touched off again. When Lily recovered her senses, she gave the follow-up phrase she knew he was expecting.

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"Ooooh, I want it bad."

Another slap, on the other side of her plot. Another hind-hoof-kickingly-delightful echo.

"You need it, don't you, you dirty little grunt."

‘Buck, and to think Honour almost cucked me out of tonight with her stupid hang-ups about duty and service.’

"Gnnnnhhh." Lily’s body convulsed backwards involuntarily, like a reflex for seeking out pleasure. Not that she was going to order it to do anything different.

"... Yes, mmmmhh, I need it, Captain..."

Did he want her to beg? Some colts liked that.

"I don't believe you. Convince me."

Yeah, he wanted her to beg.

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"... I need it, Captain, oh, I need it... NGHHnn-Aahahhh! Yes!"

For a moment, she touched ecstasy -- but just for a moment. Mailedhoof wasn’t done having his way with her quite yet.

"Have you ever had anypony as good as me?"

Celestia, the only thing dwarfing the bed skills of this colt was his ego. She could put up with that, particularly given that his purse wasn't too much smaller, either.

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Lowering her forehooves to angle her rear up even higher, Lily shook her head. "No, never, sir. You're -- Oooooohhh! -- You're the best, sir."

One of her eyes refused to stay completely shut, fluttering open and closed like she was having a stroke.

She really needed this.

Tartarus, she deserved this after all the hard work she’d put in this week! VIP duty was supposed to be eight hours of standing around a day, nights out on the town, with or without the Very Important Pony in question.

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Well, despite having Captain Mailedhoof in her sights, it’s not like she would have said 'no' if the Royal Engineer had asked for a little 'private service', too. Okay, maybe not initially -- not when she still thought he was a weird, hairless, too-tall monkey-creature.

"Who's the best, Specialist?"

Panting heavily, Lily stopped to swallow and brush the drool from her mouth.

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"Ah-huh... Ahh... You're the best, Captain Mailedhoof. You're the best."

From the open-mouthed grunt she received in reply, she could tell he was close to finishing.

‘He's not going to leave me hanging, is he?’

After the railing he gave her last week, she sure hoped not...

"Say it again, grunt!"

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Despite being ready to burst, he didn’t let up his pace even for an instant.

"You're the best, Captain Mailedhoof! You're the best and... and I need it... And I need it..."

‘He'd better slow down or else--’

"Gnnnnngggghhhhh!"

There was a burst of energy as he exploded inside her, but it wasn’t enough to throw her over the edge.

‘Damn -- and I was so close, too.’

Her eyes opened and she whimpered as she felt the noblecolt body suddenly grow heavy on her back. After a moment without motion, there was another slap on her plot.

"Ahh!"

It sent shivers down her legs and up her back, but it was a cruel tease, as the Captain pulled his boat out of Lily’s harbor.

HUUUURNNNNNNNN-HUAAAAAAAA...

Lily heard hooves touch the floor as the bed creaked one last time, and the wastebasket rattled as something was thrown into it.

"Clean yourself up and you can see yourself out. My family is back, so evenings are off until after the Gala; I'll call if something else opens up during the day."

More hoofsteps, and then the door to Captain Mailedhoof's palace-chamber's 'extra guest room' opened and closed without any further ceremony.

‘Buck, what an asshole.’

Well, Lily didn't go after him for his personality. Rolling onto her back, she stared up at the ceiling, still half breathless. She was still so wound up, she was tempted to give herself a quick finish right there. At least it was more private than trying to do it in the quarters above the Royal Engineer's chambers.

‘Well, why not?’

Only, Lily couldn’t think about Montgomery Mailedhoof -- not after how he’d just discarded her like he did the used leather protective sheath. The Royal Engineer would never treat his mare that way, she was certain...

‘Hmmm…’

She thought back to the way he'd energetically rolled around in the sand with Sergeant Ebonshield; that stamina, that strength, that drive...

Lily shut her eyes and lowered her forehooves as her mind drifted back to the manaburn-induced fever dreams she’d had about him.

And that contour-tracing halter shirt...

And those tight shorts...

And that revealing swimsuit...

With the bulge that left just enough to her imagination.

"Mmmmmmmmmmmmm...ohh ohh ohhhhhh... ahhhhhhhh."

It was a quiet one, but it was no less satisfying. A tingling sensation pulsed through Lily’s body, and then a fainter echo, and then another even fainter echo...

She took a deep breath and felt ready to pass out. But she abruptly remembered she was not in her own room, and she’d already been 'invited' to leave. So, with a grumble, Lily Glamerspear rolled off the bed and onto her hooves.

All the looks she’d get from wearing that Louis Valise dress to the Gala would make this all worth it.

Who knows?

Maybe she’d even get one from her tall VIP...

---

Purity Ebonshield

---

Suggested background music: Howard Mostrom - 'UEF Battle 4', from 'Supreme Commander 2' [2010]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DoCYGUiOtWY

---

'Arconte' Pureza Ébanoscudo was on the cusp of victory. And, even better, her opponent did not realize it.

"Okay, so I'll have this squad of Solis Militibus troopers advance ten centimeters and seize objective 'C'..." With his telekinesis, Gilberto Corazón-de-León lifted the small painted metal miniatures of ponies clad in heavy armor of gold, and then lay them down around the small white gazebo which indicated the objective in question.

Thus wandering blindly into Ebonshield’s trap.

"... That's one victory point for me. And..." With a small tape, he measured the distance from them to the batpony’s closest unit, which she knew already to be too far for his weapons to reach. "... And they can't attack anybody this round, so they'll just sit there for now. My 'Solis Militibus' forces control one victory point as do your 'Tenebrequum,' with one still up for grabs. Round three begins. Your turn, Miss Purity."

‘¡Bueno!’

With the flick of a forehoof, Ebonshield flipped over one of the three face-down 'Artis Secretum' cards in front of her. "I will begin by using this card magical, 'Avarus Ollam,' which allows me to move two of my troops out of the reserve and onto the board."

Using her wing-tip fingers, she delicately plucked eight models out of her sideboard, laying them out one-by-one onto the play area in two groups of four. Though they were not yet painted, their appearance was unmistakable -- they were batponies, posed in writhing forms and armed with twisted blades.

And they are exactly within shooting range of the gazebo.

"... These 'Maleficari' will immediately open fire upon your 'Solis Militibus'-"

Gilberto, his brow furrowed, cried out. "Wait a minute! That card lets you place them both on the board, but you can only activate one group per turn!"

Ebonshield put on an air of disappointment, and he grinned. "Nice try, though, Miss Purity. Two squads of Maleficari would've done some real damage."

That is when she flipped over the other 'Artis Secretum' card.

"... Ah yes, I have forgotten, I play also this card, 'Sagittarius,' which allows one squadron to shoot in support of the unit which is active."

The face of Gilberto turned from smug relief to concerned horror.

"... These 'Maleficari' shall use their poison bolts for this attack, which means..."

Ebonshield had to glance over at the notes she took. There were quite a lot of numbers and figures and rules to remember! But it was such an unusual thing, a game, a toy for children, which taught them war. And the artistry of the figures was wonderful as well! If only the Children had known that Equestria could combine arts and warfare in such a manner, perhaps they would never have dreamed of attempting La Reconquista...

"... That I may re-roll a single time any die which comes up as '1.'"

Ebonshield scooped up eight of the six-sided-dice in one wing.

Those, at least, were familiar. Gambling had its adherents on the Moon, and although she had no particular affinity for the sport, as it was a popular pastime among Rocks and Stars, she was forced by her profession to know it well enough.

Tossing the dice onto a free area of the map, she counted up the first attack. "There are here five dice which show a number of four or greater, the number to wound your 'Solis Militibus' troopers, yes? And now I shall re-roll the single '1'..."

Again using her wing tip, she flicked the die into the air and watched it land, conveniently on the '6'. "...That is now six wounds. Now you must roll for your armor, yes?"

Gilberto warily picked up six of the dice in his telekinetic aura and rolled them on his side of the table. The result did not please him.

"Only one save... Okay, so five troopers fall..."

Removing the figures back to his sideboard, he stared down at the gazebo which had become so soaked with blood. "...I guess I have to charge your 'Maleficari' if I don't want to eat another attack like that, since they outrange me. But even with half a squad, I can probably still beat you in melee."

Ebonshield shook her head. "I am sorry, poor Gilberto, but... Do you not now need to roll for the fear?"

His eyes went wide. "Oh... Yeah, they're down to fifty percent of their number. That's a morale check..." He picked up a single die, and swallowed deeply. "...At minus one because they lost that fifty percent in one round... Uhhh..."

Taking a deep breath, he shook his head and laughed, sitting up straight, waving a forehoof, and putting strong energy into his voice. "But these are the Empress' finest! The 'Solis Militibus' know no fear! They will survive to crush your vile 'Tenebrequum' under the banners of the Divine Alicorn! Provided they roll no less than '4'..."

He flung the die into the air, and it landed back on the table, rolling towards the gazebo only to stop at '3'.

"... Crap. Okay, so they run..."

He rolled again, and got '5'.

"... ten centimeters. And since there's no friendly troops in range for them to run to, they have to run directly away from the attack..."

Now, at last, the understanding dawned upon him. Ebonshield did not waste two of her precious 'Artis Secretum' cards merely to kill five of his troops and force the other five to flee. She spent them in a wager that he would be forced to flee exactly towards her main force of 'Tenebrequum' warriors, where they would be torn to shreds.

"... Uhhhh. Huh. I'm about to lose this whole squad, aren't I?"

With enthusiasm, she nodded. "Sí, mi chico. And this objective, this gazebo, he will now remain mine using only one group of the 'Maleificari' inexpensive for the rest of the match; your 'Sol Militum' troops will be too slow to make their way there if they are tied down with my main force, as they shortly shall be. And I will hold the objective central since I hold it already."

Sitting up straight, she extended her wings to cast a shadow over the entire play area. "The question, mi amor, is will you be capable of defeating my main force at that objective and also of dislodging my stubborn warriors who even now dig in at the objective 'A' as well? Before the die speaks that the game is ended?"

Gilberto tapped one forehoof on the table, nodding his head as he surveyed the battlefield. "Very sneaky, Miss Purity. I've still got two of my 'Secretum' cards to your one, but it's going to be a tough fight. You sure you never played 'Hyperspace Hyperwars' before?"

She shook her head. "No, never. Though I have made some efforts to study it since I saw you play it with your Brotherhood of the 'Rho Gamma Mu.' And this strategy of war, she is familiar to me, of course. So, please do not be upset if you lose."

Gilberto crossed his forehooves in front of him. He was trying to appear friendly, but she could tell that he was a little upset. "Oh, yeah? Well, you know, strictly speaking, by official rules you're not supposed to play with unpainted miniatures. You already lost the second you pulled them out."

‘Really?’

‘But painting is so difficult!’

Ebonshield looked down at the three 'Tenebrequum' warriors which she’d attempted to paint. Rather than looking menacing and dark, as these twisted and hedonistic villains fictional were portrayed in the rulebook, they instead resembled things which had wandered accidentally into the market stall of a merchant of the spices and the dyes. She would have to try again; she had fine controls over her wing-fingers and her hooves, but the art of the blade was clearly quite different from the art of the paintbrush. Purchasing the rule-book and some of the figures had been simple enough, using the bits which were her surface-salary. Perhaps one of the Rocks would accept some tobacco or avocados in trade...

That was a matter for another night, however.

Ebonshield surveyed the table, happy with the success of her plan, but disappointed to have missed a more important rule. "Ah... Then the game is ended, yes?"

Gilberto nodded. "I mean, yeah. If you want to play by official rules, yeah. Sorry."

She perked immediately up. "¡Bueno! Then it is time to move on!"

Hopping off her seat, Ebonshield quickly rounded the table towards her current beau, pressing herself up against him, chest to chest. "Now, having taught you a lesson in the strategy clever here on this table, I shall now teach you things in another subject in which I am proficient."

Gilberto licked his lips, nervously. "Uh... What's that, Miss Purity?"

She grinned as she pushed her muzzle up against his neck. "Tonight, mi amore, I will teach you a skill most essential for the amorous colt, a skill which is both mental and physical, but when mastered, grants the potency supreme..."

Extending her tongue, she licked gently his ear, watching as this flicked with excitement.

"...The art of self-control."

She had not planned on giving this lesson particular tonight, but, since he was being stubborn, and since the 'Tenebrequum' are, in 'Hyperspace Hyperwars,' the masters of all things painful and pleasurable… Since she was the 'Arconte' of the 'Tenebrequum,' why not a lesson which combined both?

---

Honour Bound

---

‘The impossible has happened.’

Corporal Honour Bound was with Sergeant Alexander Castlerook, on a date, and she felt comfortable. Relaxed, even. The fact that Castlerook made sergeant before her wasn’t bothering her at all. And the uncomfortable Fillydelphia memories that previously accompanied him weren’t showing up either. She wasn’t even half-drunkedly upset that he hadn’t put a move on her yet.

Although she was definitely half-drunk. It'd been a couple of hours since dinner, but the drinks kept coming. Coming slowly, sure, but still coming.

Placing his beer glass back down on the table, Alexander -- Alex -- looked at Honour with those warm green eyes of his.

"So, I've been thinkin', Honour..."

She watched as he glanced away and licked his lips. "...When the Gala's over, an' me an' the 186th march back to Filly'..."

He looked at her again, and she noticed the barest hint of creases that had started to form above his cheeks, around his eyes. They didn’t make him look old, though; they make him look dignified. Alex leaned in over his drink, but she didn't feel the urge to tense up -- which was itself a relief.

"... I'd like it an awful lot if you'd come back with me."

There it was, in no uncertain terms. Castlerook had been the other colt -- all through her youth and then her disaster of a marriage.

And it didn't scare her at all to hear him say it.

She sighed out loud -- Her! Sighing like some little filly on her first date!

But that didn’t bother her, either. Everything was just too relaxed, too calm.

Nodding, Honour answered him. "I think I'd like that too, Alex..."

The nod turned to a head-shake. "...But I can't leave here in a week. Not until this assignment is over."

Alex bobbed his head sideways and picked up his beer in a hoof. "You wouldn't be the first pony to bow out of a VIP assignment. It won't mean anything in the 186th; everypony's heard the horror stories out of the Palace."

Honour continued shaking her head, and she laughed. "Believe me, Alex, I was probably telling half of them myself." Taking a deep breath, she sat up in the comfortable club chair and looked over at her date across the lounge's stylish black-glass table. "But this assignment's different, Alex. I don't think there's ever been a Very Important Pony like this one -- and he's not even a pony!"

Castlerook lifted an eyebrow as he took a sip of his beer.

Honour shrugged and shook her head once more. "He's considerate, he's smart, he's kind -- and he's working on something that's genuinely important to Equestria."

Pointing a hoof, she leaned forward slightly. "And he's got the four of us in his quat' helping him out. I can't abandon him." Laughing, she shrugged again. "I mean, buck, I'm the test driver for his new self-propelled carriage."

That got her another eyebrow raise -- a double, this time -- but eventually, after some consideration and another sip of beer, Alex nodded his head.

"Okay..." With a smile, he shrugged. "...Okay. I guess, since I waited a year to make m'self known, I can wait a couple more months, if that's what you need..."

Alex's green eyes ran her up and down. Honour felt her cheeks start to flush. Part of her wished she really could leave with him -- not even next week, but right now.

"... I do want you to see you again, Honour. If not in Filly', then..." He scoffed and turned his head sideways, shaking it. "... Then I dunno. I ain't no good at figurin' out plans for the future like that."

Honour furrowed her brow and leaned forward, extending a sympathetic hoof. "That's not true, Alex. If you weren't, they would've never made you sergeant."

Looking rueful and more than half-drunk, he whinnied, but he took her hoof in his own. "Yeah, well... If I was a better planner, maybe I would'a figured out what to say before you got fed up with everythin' an' left."

Inhaling deeply, she sucked in her lips and patted his hoof. "I don't know if anything could've stopped me going. A year and a half ago, I'd had my fill of Filly'..."

Sitting back again, she kept her hoof with his. "... I guess that's why I never answered any letters or wrote any of my own."

Castlerook's sheepish face turned back into that gentle smile she liked so much. "Yeah..."

Then he took a deep breath and pushed his forehoof a little more into hers.

"... I do have some news on that front I should share, though it'll prob'ly spoil the mood."

Honour was so calm and relaxed that she really doubted any news from Fillydelphia could upset her.

Alex coughed awkwardly. "...We got new marching orders yesterday. Until the day of the Gala itself, we're helping to patrol the docks down at the river..."

Honour scrunched her face up a little. "Weird. What's going on there?"

Alex inhaled sharply through his nose. "Wellll... It turns out this year marks the two-hun'red-an'-fiftieth anniversary of the Equestrian Merchant Marine. So, as a result, a coupl'a months ago they held a big ol' lottery." He nods his head. "Somethin' like one in every hun'red civilian cargo ships in Equestria got invited to the Gala, wholesale -- captain, officers, an' crew. That's over sixty lucky boats, an' they're showin' up now, packin' into the harbor tight as sardines."

Honour raised her eyebrows. "No wonder they need the extra help down there. Three times as many boats as usually come in to dock? Canterlot wharf ponice must be swamped."

Alex nodded, but he licked his lips and looked her in the eyes, and she knew he hadn't said everything quite yet.

"Yeah... An' there's a coupla' ships from Filly', too. Names you'd recognize, even..."

From the way he was talking, she knew he was still holding something back.

"So?"

Castlerook swallowed. "Honour, the 'Tambermane' is one of 'em..."

‘Oh, buck.’

He looked down at his drink and sighed. "...An' Leeward is aboard her."

Honour closed her eyes.

"... He's the bos'n, now. I met him yesterday, an' he's got one of those golden tickets just like everypony else."

‘Buck.’

In her entire life, Honour never thought that she would ever attend the Grand Galloping Gala. It was such a far-away possibility that she had disregarded it entirely. But now it was happening, and just this once she’d gotten a ticket to Equestria's greatest annual social event. And as a full guest, too, not as some bodyguard shunted into a separate wardroom. Even though she had never really desired it, she knew it was something special, and something worth treasuring.

Unlike Glamerspear, Honour didn't care who saw her.

Unlike Sparkshower, Honour didn't care whom she saw.

Just being there would be like having a dream come true. A childish dream, sure; an infantile fantasy that she’d long since pushed completely out of her mind. And now, here it was: reality.

Except he was going to be there too.

‘Buck.’

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