//------------------------------// // 28 - The Times They Are A-Changin' // Story: The Other Side of the Horizon // by Rambling Writer //------------------------------// The next day passed much too quickly. With the meeting with Inkosi scheduled for that evening, Twilight panicked a bit. Applejack and Zecora were given a crash course in protocol nearly identical to Twilight’s. Rumors were passed around the palace about Mtendaji. Twilight panicked a bit. Askari and Mtetezi were pulled off of their protecting-Twilight duties. Assassins did not show up. Twilight panicked a bit. And suddenly it was evening and time for the meeting with Inkosi. Twilight, Applejack, Spike, Zecora, Livingstone, Stormwalker, and Cumulus were all in a small waiting room room just outside the throne room, waiting for Inkosi to show. The last few minutes of the court were wrapping up, and Twilight kept right on pacing. “You’ll wear a hole straight through the floor if you keep walking for much more,” observed Zecora. “I know I know I know,” muttered Twilight. She’d known that for quite some time. “But I can’t help it. There’s so many things that can go wrong, and plenty of things I don’t know about, so I can’t even make a proper list to remember the things that can go wrong! And this is the sort of thing a list is perfect for, beca-” “Calm down, sugarcube,” said Applejack. “It ain’t that bad.” “I know, b-” “Just, I don’t know… Just think of it as a test, alright? Like Celestia’d give you.” “You’re right,” Twilight said. “I’m good at tests. I studied as best I could. I can do this.” She took a few deep breaths until the metaphor got the better of her. “But… I don’t have quill or paper. This is an oral exam. I’m not that good at oral exams! Sometimes I only got a B+ on them!” She squeaked and dropped to the floor, covering her eyes. “A B+ isn’t good enough for this!” Applejack and Spike exchanged glances. Spike cleared his throat. “Technically, a D- is good enough,” said Spike. “It’s a passing grade, isn’t it?” “Experience has taught me to ignore sentences that begin with ‘technically’,” Twilight said as she stood up. “But I see your point. It’s just, this is more than a test.” She started pacing. “If I do badly, then Equestria has bad relations with Zebrabwe, and we’ll have to work really hard to get over them, whereas if I do badly on a test, I can get over it by doing well on the homework, s-” She stopped pacing and cocked her head at nothing in particular. “Which… I guess doesn’t make this any different from the first test of the semester.” “Please don’t strain the metaphor,” said Zecora dryly. “I doubt that it can take much more.” “But the sign of a good metaphor is that it can take a lot!” said Twilight. “It’s like a model: it represents the important bits and you can get an idea of what’s happening without risking the actual important bits by working with the model’s important bits. It’s like that.” Zecora didn’t add anything, so Twilight paced for another few moments, then said to Livingstone, “You’re being awfully quiet.” “Well, I, I don’t have much to add, no,” said Livingstone, twirling a lock of her mane around a hoof. “I’ve… more or less done my job in getting you to Kulikulu, and I was never much of a diplomat to begin with. I was never somepony of any actual importance, just a curiosity who was, herself, very curious. I doubt that I’ll say much in the actual meeting, so don’t worry if it seems like I don’t have much to say. Chances are it’s already been said, yes.” “Alright,” said Twilight. Something she’d known and assumed, but it was always a good idea to be sure, just in case. “And while we’re on the subject, the rest of you, remember: I’m the ambassador, so don’t take it personally if Inkosi focuses all of her attention on me.” “I know,” said Applejack. “And, to be honest, I don’t think I want her examinin’ me. I’m just an aide. I don’t know anythin’ about diplomacy.” “Good,” Twilight said. “I mean, I know we went over it before, but I wanted to mention it again, just in case, because i-” “We know, Twi,” Applejack said, planting a hoof in Twilight’s mouth. “Calm down.” “Sorry,” Twilight mumbled as she pulled Applejack’s hoof out, “but I’m really nervous, and I want to be sure, and wow I’m already repeating myself.” She facehoofed. “I’m probably going to explode if we have to wait for much longer.” And like a sign from the heavens, a zebra opened the door to the throne room and bowed. “The king will see you now.” Everyone looked at each other for a few moments. Twilight took a deep breath, flapped her wings once, and stepped into the throne room. The throne room was massive, larger even than Canterlot’s. Every hard surface was made of marble, which would normally make it very, very white, but not during the evening. Behind the throne was a colossal picture window, several ponies high and numerous across, looking west over Kulikulu. Through this window shafted the rays of the setting sun, throwing an orange cast over everything. On the sides were raised rows of benches for the audience in the case of public ceremonies. The actual throne was smaller and simpler than Twilight had been expecting, not much more than a slightly oversized chair made of marble. Inkosi herself was pacing back and forth before the throne, looking surprisingly downbeat. She’d seemed so… eager during the dinner. Twilight wondered if something had happened to her. She hadn’t heard anything, but that didn’t mean much. Flanking her route were two guards and two additional zebras that Twilight suspected were advisors of some kind. Inkosi looked up when Twilight and company. Twilight noticed a smile tug briefly at the corners of her mouth for a moment. But only for a moment. Did that mean something? Maybe Inkosi was still apprehensive about Mtendaji’s actions, nothing to do with Twilight herself. Hopefully, yeah. Twilight bowed slightly. “Your Highness.” Inkosi inclined her head. “Princess.” Before Twilight could say anything, Inkosi gestured towards a door behind the throne. “Come. Let’s go outside.” A short staircase took them to a balcony outside, out of sight of the picture window. The balcony was small, probably meant for private audiences like this, weather permitting. It was, however, large enough for the whole group to fit on comfortably (although Inkosi’s advisors were standing off to the side; they were probably there more “just in case” than because Inkosi knew she’d need them). In a contrast to the throne room, it was plain, almost completely devoid of decoration. Leaning on the railing, Inkosi took her crown off and began idly twirling it around a hoof. After a moment, she said, “You have no idea how much I want to apologize for these past few days.” “It’s fine,” said Twilight, waving her hoof. “Everyone’s okay, and all’s well that ends well, right?” “Nevertheless, it happened in my country.” Inkosi scanned the skyline. “I’m the one that allowed a would-be killer to do business here, I’m the one that didn’t find her immediately, I’m the one that nearly let her get away. Whether or not it ends well for you, it certainly won’t end the greatest for me.” “I’m sorry,” Twilight said quickly, already wishing she could take back her words. Of course it wouldn’t look good on Inkosi. Why hadn’t she remembered to look at things from someone else’s perspective? Stupid. “I just meant-” Inkosi waved her away. “It’s not that bad. It might not end the greatest, but it’s closer to the greatest than the worst. The things hurt most are my pride and my reputation.” Her mouth twisted into a wry smile. “Which can be important in international relations, but they’re not the most important things.” “So, um, Your Highness,” said Spike, “what’re you gonna do now? I mean, if Imayini tried to kill an ambassador, then…” Twilight’s skin crawled with apprehension (that was a bit of a personal question, given the situation) and envy (she’d really wanted to ask that question herself, and only protocol had held her back). Inkosi sighed. “I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “It’ll take years for the dust to settle, assuming it ever does. Furthermore, low funds aside, Imayini does provide us with a not-insignificant amount of coal at a relatively low cost. I can’t simply throw them out, but neither can I freely forgive them with no strings attached.” She sighed again. “And we still have to see the reaction from Wilaya, which may not arrive until you are gone. I might not have much of a choice in the matter, one way or another. But…” She pushed away from the railing and put her crown back on her head. “You needn’t concern yourself with that. That is not what you are here for.” Already, her voice sounded fuller, more confident, more energetic, less depressed, and she even stood a bit taller. “Right,” said Twilight. She twitched all over and drew herself up another few inches. “On behalf of Equestria, I-” And just like that, she froze. She had no idea of what to say. She’d composed speeches, yes. Eight of them, to be precise, depending on which area she wanted to emphasize. She’d memorized them all. But after much internal debate, she still didn’t know which one would be the best for this. Throughout the whole day, Twilight had picked one to say, and then she’d go, no, this one was obviously better because of these reasons, and she’d decide to say this one, but then, no, that one was obviously better because of those reasons, and she’d go through all of them three or four times before she knew what was happening. She had eight beautifully-composed speeches to work with, but saying this one meant she wasn’t saying that one, and she couldn’t have that. She didn’t even have any books to draw on. She’d read nothing about Equestria initiating diplomatic relations for the first time. At least, nothing personal. Just vague bits of “and then Equestria started an alliance with Yakyakistan” or something along those lines. This was the first time in centuries Equestria was expanding its borders even slightly. The only ponies alive who knew how to begin going about it were Celestia and Luna. Twilight screamed internally. Why hadn’t she asked either of them for advice? She’d made it over the ocean, to the capital, through several assassination attempts, why did she have to choke right now? Stupid isolationism. Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid. But she had to say something. Everyone was looking at her and Spike was lightly nudging her in the ribs. The words came tripping out. “-would- like to- extend to Zebrabwe an offer of- of- peace and- alliance and- and stuff. Yeeeeah.” Twilight managed to smile, but she could hear the quiet, disappointed reactions of the rest of her party. She could even identify which one was doing which. Spike quickly sucked in a breath, Applejack groaned, Zecora huffed, Livingstone clicked her teeth nervously, and Stormwalker and Cumulus had the decency to keep quiet. Jumping off the balcony with her wings clamped firmly at her sides suddenly seemed incredibly appealing. Inkosi managed to hold it back for a few seconds, but she giggled. “That’s one way to put it.” Twilight couldn’t help it. She reverted back to “anxious student explaining herself to the teacher” mode. “I’m sorry but I don’t have any experience in this,” she said quickly, “and I don’t know if I mentioned this but Equestria’s been very stable for a very long time and that includes a lack of starting new alliances and s-” And then she cut herself off. Babbling in front of a king. Swell. After that abysmal opening. Super swell. Give me my shovel now, Celestia. I can dig my own grave. “Don’t worry,” said Inkosi, waving her down. “You need to crawl before you can walk, and besides, content is more important than presentation.” Twilight slowly let a breath out. Okay. This might not be so bad after all, not if Inkosi was one of those people who could overlook flubs if the actual hay of the matter was good enough. But that didn’t slow down her beating heart at all. Or her deep breathing. Or the way her brain was still screaming. Or a lot of other things. “In any case,” Inkosi continued, “I’ve been considering this quite a bit ever since the dinner, and I wholeheartedly believe that, in spite of distance involved, an alliance between Zebrabwe and Equestria could only be advantageous for both of us, at least based on what I know now.” That slowed everything down so hard it went too far and stopped things that shouldn’t’ve stopped. Equestria and Zebrabwe were allies just like that? That was easy. There was no way it was that easy. Right? It would’ve been nice after the past few days, but if something seemed too good to be true, it usually was. Aside from the rare times where it wasn’t. This might just be one of those rare times. Trying to keep up the formality, Twilight said, “That was a quick decision.” Inkosi shrugged. “I haven’t seen any reason against it. Indeed, your character alone makes an excellent argument. Your friends are among the…” She paused. “Forgive my lack of a better term, the common folk, and yet you treat them like equals. And from what I can see, the feeling is mutual. If nothing else, you have a connection with your citizens that I envy. Citizens are the lifeblood of a nation. I have my hoof on the pulse, but you? You’re in the blood itself. Should something go wrong, you will know exactly what that something is.” “Oh, it’s no big deal,” Twilight said, waving a hoof. They were her friends. What was so great about being on good terms with her friends? “I jus-” “But it is! It took me years to find out several of my ports had been tricked into closing, and that was by accident!” Inkosi examined Twilight closely, like there was something etched in her face. Twilight didn’t pull back, but her wings twitched. “You, on the other hoof, might know that within days. Let me explain.” Inkosi began pacing. “Suppose a zebra in Bandari Mji has a relative in Kulikulu. Maybe a bit coincidental, but hardly unreasonable. Upon the port’s closing, the Bandari Mji zebra might write a letter to the Kulikulu zebra that mentions this. In your case, the second zebra could simply walk up and ask you about it.” She shrugged. “Unlikely, perhaps, but there is no red tape to cut through. In my case, the message would be shuffled through numerous bureaucratic channels, possibly getting lost in transit with no way to find it, possibly deemed not important enough for me.” She clicked her tongue a few times and went back to scanning the skyline. “I’m not sure your system could work in Zebrabwe, given the nature of zebras. The fact that Equestrians have such an easy flow of information might just be because Celestia has had over a thousand years to perfect the system, but it might also be because Equestria is naturally more peaceable than Zebrabwe, allowing more openness.” “If the difference is primarily cultural,” Twilight said, “then a cultural exchange might let it leak into Zebrabwe.” “It might,” said Inkosi. “Then again, it might not. But we won’t know until we try, one way or another.” She grinned. “Personally, though, I’m leaning towards it doing so.” “Yeah,” said Twilight. “Me, too.” “And, of course, to try, I’ll need to send a diplomatic envoy over to Equestria,” continued Inkosi. “Perhaps with you on your return journey. Zebrabwe might not have much naval capability, but we have ships capable of making the journey, provided they stick together.” Twilight waved a hoof nonchalantly. “Oh, don’t worry. We’ll make it work. We’ve got enough pegasi to steer the winds and keep the ships close.” And they did. Wind redirection was a basic skill of pegasus sailors, one taught the first week of training. No sense in letting that weather magic go to waste. “Someone your size controlling the wind and weather?” Inkosi laughed. An amused laugh, not a skeptical one. “I doubt ponies will ever cease to amaze me.” “I’m a pony and even I’m still amazed from time to time.” But as Twilight’s mouth was going in one direction, her brain was going another. Yessssss. It was set. Maybe not yet finalized, but it was set. Equestria and Zebrabwe were definitely going to become allies. Twilight liked it, Inkosi liked it, and it’d all been smooth sailing. In the “debate”, at least. Twilight released a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. It’d taken weeks of preparation and work, but she’d accomplished everything she’d hoped to accomplish, and she’d done it easily. And she had no idea where to go from here. What would they talk about? She was starting from scratch. Again. Swell. Again. Of course, last time’s “swell” had gone just fine… “Sooo…” Twilight batted at the railing. “Now what?” “Now? Now comes the boring part,” Inkosi said with a chuckle. “We discuss our lands, demographics, that sort of thing. It shall allow us to decide on any trade and cultural exchange more easily. And unless Equestria is vastly different from Zebrabwe, it’ll all boil down to nothing more than numbers.” What was wrong with numbers? Numbers were fine. Twilight liked numbers. The world ran on numbers, in one way or another. Numbers were simple, but they were beautifully simple. eπi + 1 = 0? Sublime. But just before she could say that, she was interrupted. “Equestria’s got four seasons,” Applejack said. Twilight shot a brief glare at Applejack. That seemed a bit irrelevant, didn’t it? But Inkosi didn’t mind. In fact, she looked downright intrigued. “Four?” she asked. “Isn’t that a bit much?” Applejack shrugged. “It’s how we do things in Equestria for as long as we can remember, and it’s worked out so far.” “Huh,” Inkosi said, in the vein of someone who’d just been told the meaning of life and didn’t know how to react. “And we all grow all our own food, with nothin’ like the nyumbu.” It took Twilight a second or two to remember what Applejack was talking about: those buffalo things that’d blocked her caravan and grew much of the zebras’ food. It’d struck Twilight as an odd arrangement, but then, if it worked for the zebras, it worked for the zebras. Besides, the zebras would probably see Equestrians growing food on their own as an odd arrangement. Which might’ve been what Applejack was going for, actually. If Equestria and Zebrabwe were similar, this would be nothing more than an exchange of numbers (which Twilight would’ve wholeheartedly enjoyed, but she could see where others wouldn’t be so excited). But Applejack was already pointing out the differences, turning it from a numbers game to a fascinating cultural exposé on an exotic land. Oh, they’d get to the numbers eventually, but Inkosi would be much more engaged by then. “Huh,” Inkosi said again, in the exact same tone as before. She paused for a long time. “I think Equestria may indeed be vastly different from Zebrabwe.” She waved a hoof back towards the palace. “Outside is not the best environment for this. I have some much more comfortable quarters inside where we can talk. If we are going to be allies, Equestria and Zebrabwe each have much to learn of the other.” Okay. Teaching a zebra about Equestria. That was easy. Way easier than trying to figure out how to do negotiations, anyway. She’d done a bit of it at the dinner, but now she could more in-depth. And if you didn’t go in-depth, what was the point? “Since we’re already talking about Equestria, do you have questions on any specific topic? I don’t know absolutely everything about Equestria, but I know something about everything, especially culture and history. I… did lots of research for this.” But not what to actually DO in diplomacy. Why didn’t I do that? Inkosi clicked her tongue a few times. “Actually, I would like to know more about how Equestria can grow enough food to feed the whole country. That is the primary obstacle in making Zebrabwe truly self-sufficient. I can’t fully blame the nyumbu for keeping their advantage, but it is…” She sucked in a breath through her nostrils. “…quite aggravating.” “It actually goes back centuries, back before we had Celestia and Luna ruling us, back even before Equestria existed as a single country. The three tribes were functionally separate, but…”