"Are you okay, fella? What's wrong?"

That inquiry didn't even earn me a second glance.

Normally, I'd be at a loss for what to do. This time around, however, I had an idea. Glancing out the stable door to be sure Bunny wasn't within hearing, I turned to Gleep who was watching the proceedings with interest.

"Gleep? Do you know what's wrong with Buttercup?"

I had discovered that my dragon could actually talk, though only in halting sentences. At his request, I had withheld that particular bit of information from my colleagues.

Gleep craned his neck to look out the door himself, then brought his head close to mine. "Buttercup ... sad," he said.

My pet's breath was foul enough that it usually drove me back a step or two. My concern was such, however, that I held my ground.

"Sad?" I said. "About what?"

Gleep seemed to struggle to find the words.

"You ... not... use ... him."

"Not use him?" I echoed, trying to understand. "You mean he wants me to play with him more?"

The dragon moved his head slowly from side to side in ponderous negation. "No. Not... play. You ... not... use ... him ... to ... fight"

Slowly it began to sink in what the problem was.

Buttercup had been working with a demon hunter when we first met. The hunter, Quigley, had moved on to a career in magik, leaving the unicorn with me. While there had been many and varied adventures since then, I had never called on Buttercup to assist in any of them, preferring to deal with the problems by magical means. Well, magik combined with a fair amount of underhanded double talk. Whatever the reason, though, what was once a proud fighting animal had been reduced to the status of a house pet... and he didn't like it.

That seemed to be the problem. The trouble was, I had no idea what to do about it.

For a change, this lack of knowledge or a specific plan did not distress me. If nothing else, in my varied career prior to my retirement, I had amassed an impressive array of specialists, most of whom were usually all too happy to advise me in areas where my own experience was lacking. In this case, I thought I had a pretty good idea of who to turn to.

Big Julie had been commanding the largest army this dimension had ever seen when we first met. I can refer to its impressive size with some authority as, at the time, I was on the other side. Shortly thereafter, he had retired and was living in a villa near the Royal Palace of Possiltum. We had gotten to be pretty good friends, however, and he had helped me and my colleague out several times on an advisory basis. Not surprising, with his background, his advice was unswervingly helpful and insightful. As such, his was the first name that sprang to my mind to consult with regarding my current dilemma with Butter-cup.

As always, he was happy to see me when I dropped in, and we immediately fell to reminiscing about old times like old war comrades ... which we sort of were. The wine and lies flowed in roughly equal quantities, making for a very pleasant, relaxed conversation.

[Author's note: Yes, that was an abrupt shift of time and location. Short stories don't give you much space for lengthy travel sequences. Besides, if they can get away with it in Star Wars, why can't I?]

As he was refilling our goblets with yet another sample from his extensive wine cellar, he cocked an eye at me and winked.

"So! Enough small talk. What's the problem?"

"Problem?" I said, taken a bit aback. I had figured to ease into the subject slowly.

Big Julie leaned over and clapped me on the knee with his hand. "You're a good boy, Skeeve," he said. "I'm always glad when you take time to visit Still, you're busy enough, so I figure you don't come all this way just to chit chat with an old soldier. To me, that means you've got some kind of a problem you think I might help you with."

A little irked a being found out so easily, I filled him in on my perception of the problem. For all his self-deprecating comments about being an "old soldier," as I mentioned before, Big Julie had the finest mind regarding things military that this dimension had ever seen.

"A war unicorn, eh?" he said, raising his eyebrows.

"Don't see many of those anymore. Still, you could be right Do you know much about war unicorns?"

"Practically nothing," I admitted easily. "I sort of inherited this one."

"Well, you can forget about that poetic stuff with unicorns and virgins," the retired general said. "Unicorns are fighters, bred specifically for their ferocity and loyalty. They're particularly popular in certain circles because they're all but immune to magik."

"Really? I didn't know that."

"I don't think I've ever heard of one retiring, though," Julie continued. "Usually they die in combat. Once they're trained, it's pretty much all they know. I've had men in my command like that. Been soldiers all their lives and can't imagine being civilians."

I nodded my head thoughtfully. I had thought my problem with Buttercup to be fairly unique. I had never really stopped to think about what soldiers do once they leave the service.

"A lot of the boys go into police work or some other kind of security in the private sector. If you look at it close, though, that's just another form of wearing a uniform and being ready for a fight if the situation calls for it That's why that plan you came up with to use some of the boys for tax collectors was such a good idea. It took care of our problem of what to do with our excess personnel once Queen Hemlock put her expansion policy on hold. It let us give them an option of a new assignment instead of just cutting them loose after a lifetime of service."

It seemed I had done something intelligent for a change, though I'll admit that at the time I had not been aware of the full ramifications of my action.

"So how does that help me figure out what to do with Buttercup," I said, frowning.

"Well, it seems to me you need to find Buttercup some action, even if it's just a dummied-up training exercise," Big Julie said. "Between the two of us we should be able to come up with something."

"A training exercise?"

"Sure. We do it all the time in the service. Schedule a war game to keep the troops on their toes." He dropped his voice to a conspirator level. "We don't ever admit it, but sometimes we even deliberately position our forces a bit too close to an opposing force ... like over their border accidentally on purpose. Of course, they respond, and by the time things are sorted out and apologies have been made, the boys have had a little action to clear away the cobwebs. We could rig something like that for your unicorn."

I got up and did the honors of refilling our goblets. I didn't really want more wine, but it gave me a few minutes to mull over what Big Julie had said. Something about it wasn't sitting right with me.

"Actually, I don't think so," I said finally, shaking my head. "I appreciate the advice. Big Julie, and it's given me something to think about, but I think I'll try a different kind of solution."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Well, instead of hunting down or making up some kind of conflict to make Buttercup feel useful," I said, carefully, "I'm thinking what I need to do is spend some time retraining him."

Big Julie cocked his head. "Retraining him to do what?"

"I don't really know just yet" I sighed. "As you were talking, though, it occurred to me how sad it was that all Buttercup knows how to do is to fight More specifically, that, in his opinion, his only value is as a fighter. Instead of trying to re-enforce that problem, I think I want to spend the effort to try to change his self-image."

The general stared at me for several moments.

"I've never asked you, Skeeve," he said at last. "Why did you retire?"

"Me?" I said, caught off guard by the subject change. "I wanted to spend more time studying magik. I'm supposed to be this hot shot magician, but I really can't do all that much. Why?"