//------------------------------//
// Act Two 
// Story: The Olden World 
// by Czar_Yoshi 
//------------------------------//

A catwalk snaked through black air, suspended to a rusty metal ceiling with thick iron chains. In the distance below, a solitary stallion sat in the dark, muzzle pressed to a glowing screen, manipulating the console with magic. A forest of tall, lean drums filled the room, connected by a confusing web of glowing pipes, transporting some sort of luminous liquid at a sluggish pace.

The entire chamber vibrated, whirring from the cylinders filling it with a perpetual mechanical racket. Among the crisscrossing shadows that covered the floor, abandoned desks could be seen, empty pushcarts and toolbelts sitting without wearers. Whether it was sleeping or hibernating, the place smelled of metal and oil, letting any visitors know that it was home to one kind of pony alone: those who lived with industry.

Two sets of hoofsteps sounded along the catwalk, iron-wrought horseshoes clattering against the serrated lattice that provided traction and insulation against spills. A bubble of magic shimmered around their owners, forming an insulated soundspace that allowed conversing despite the noise.

"I've told you two dozen times that if you think I should be in charge of this thing, then I want more security!" the first demanded as he walked. A wiry thing who might have been scrawny had he not been well-fed, the stallion sported a mid-gray coat, dormant horn and curved muzzle that could get him mistaken for a mare. He stood nearly a head shorter than his companion and had a whiny voice that wasn't doing him any favors in being taken seriously.

"Every single time we try to make a shipment," he pouted, "it's blah blah bandits this and blah blah money that. Is it so much to ask to, I don't know, arm our convoys?" He scowled up at his companion. "Sosa is a laughingstock, and having all the stuff we're still paid to make stolen before it even reaches the Stone District is not helping! Dorable, with all due respect you hired me to do what's best for this factory, so let me do my job!"

"At ease, Nimwick," Dorable rumbled. He was a broad stallion, the exact opposite in proportion to his companion's slightness, and had a lighter gray coat that mixed well with the lime aura coming off his horn. "I'm hiring you to do what's best for Sosa, and killing some Sosans in the name of benefitting others is not an acceptable outcome."

Nimwick was shaking with anger. "They're bandits! And our economic situation is not going to improve if we can't control our own goods! How are we supposed to even start regaining our former glory if we can't even secure our supply routes? It's like we're bleeding money!"

"Bandits with families and friends," Dorable calmly responded. "And bandits who have not taken a life on Sosan soil for as many years as they have been organized. It's better to bleed silver and gold than blood, especially when our financial situation is stable. I won't have this be escalated."

"Pfft. Financially stable, my tail," Nimwick grumbled, turning at an intersection. "It's not about money! We don't need money! Have you actually taken the time to go down and talk to all the ponies we're supposed to be leading? Because I have! They have money, Dorable. They don't want money. What they want are meaningful jobs! You think making throwaway trash with a guarantee from management to be stolen by bandits before it reaches anypony who will use it is a good way to cure Sosa's collective depression? Because if so, take your head out of your rear and look again!"

"That's no way to talk to a factory chief, Nimwick," Dorable answered. "We symbolize Sosa to all of Ironridge, now more so than ever. Don't speak of pride with one breath, and then tarnish it the next."

Nimwick growled. "Oh yeah? And how am I supposed to give our ponies something to be proud of if you won't even let me do anything? You want me to stand around and give speeches all the time? Try to give out smiley face stickers and see if that cheers ponies up? You want me to solve this mess with words?"

"Precisely," Dorable said with a nod, as if it were obvious.

"Oh, that's real great. We'll make the bandits go away by talking to them and asking nicely." Nimwick exaggeratedly rolled his eyes, jaw hanging mockingly. "Is that what you want?"

Dorable nodded again. "That would be acceptable."

Nimwick nearly faceplanted, sputtering. "Is that... Ugh! Really?" He looked up to glare at Dorable. "I was being sarcastic! Oh, yes, let's go make friends with the stinking Spirit of Sosa because obviously they're just lonely and misunderstood and only stealing our stuff because they want friends, because that's how all big bandit organizations work! This is ridiculous!"

"Sarcastic or not, I do think it is a good idea," Dorable remarked. "You talk of meeting the individual ponies we serve, but have you met with those who oppose us? You won't be in danger. I will even go with you. It would be a useful learning experience, if you wish to fully take up this post."

"Fine," Nimwick spat. "Then let's get to the terminal. The cart should be leaving in ten minutes."





Nimwick and Dorable stepped through a sliding doorway made of interlocking leaves, emerging on a balcony above a U-shaped chamber with one wall missing. In its place was a sizable body of water, entering the building through a depression in the floor to form a covered docking area. No ships were moored in the bay, and on the concrete loading zone below, an abandoned forklift was parked haphazardly next to a discarded orange vest and a stack of opened barrels. Warm night air drifted in through the open wall, patches of starlight shining through wherever there was a break in the clouds.

They descended a staircase that hugged the wall, careful not to trip and tumble down the painted metal structure. Across the room they walked, coming to a vehicle-sized door blocked by retractable sheet metal. Dorable punched a button with magic, and it rolled open, another blast of night air flowing through from the other side.

There, on a walkway about a meter off the dirt ground, illuminated by floodlights placed slightly too far apart, three stallions in blue suits worked, hoisting crates onto the back of a cart. The vehicle was all wood, and sported three harnesses on the front, suggesting it wasn't motorized.

Nimwick scoffed. "Really? We can't even afford a more armored transport? Forget about fighting bandits, we could just run right past them! If, I don't know, we had something better than that? We're sitting right next to a mana refinery! Why can't we put it to use?"

"Feel free to budget for one," Dorable replied. Turning away from Nimwick, he addressed the three workers. "Gentlecolts. Nimwick and I wish to join you for this evening's delivery."

"Uhh... really?" One of the stallions cocked an eyebrow, then shrugged. "Well, all right. You know the drill, Milord. There's room at the front of the cart."

With a nod of appreciation, Dorable moved to board the vehicle, Nimwick grumpily behind him. Before they could, however, they were interrupted by a confident, female voice from behind.

"Well, well, well," someone proclaimed, "fancy running in to you two here."

The intruder was another unicorn, bearing a vivid orange coat and deep blue eyes. Her mane and cutie mark were obscured by a lightweight suit of armor, and a white, technological-looking lance was strapped to her side. Dorable bowed in respect when he saw her, though Nimwick remained standing. "Lady Shinespark."

She nodded politely in return. "A pleasure as always, Dorable. And you don't have to bow to me. So..." She glanced between the cart, the ponies loading it, and the other two. "May I ask? This is a far earlier hour than usual for factory inspections, or for training the new pony."

"Nimwick is concerned with security," Dorable answered. "Understandable, with the long-standing string of delivery thefts. I am watching as he attempts to parley with the thieves. But what are you doing here, armed for combat?"

"Parley?" Nimwick squawked. "You twisted my tail into this! I told you, the obvious answer is to step up security on the transports, which is obviously what she is here to provide!"

Shinespark shook her helmeted head. "Actually, I'm here because a traveler filed a complaint earlier in the night that someone set up a roadblock in the Earth District and denied him passage. He was a pegasus, so I'm unsure why he didn't just fly over, but it's an obstacle nevertheless. He also claims they threw fruit at him and made fun of his mane."

"That seems awfully suspicious," Nimwick grumbled, pointing a hoof. "A pegasus complaining about a roadblock? What was a pegasus doing down here, anyway? It sounds like a trap..."

"Which is why I'm going armed, and doing this myself instead of sending the ponies I'm supposed to protect." Shinespark patted the spear at her side, levitating it with her horn. "I mostly want to investigate. It's unlike the Spirit of Sosa to bother citizens and travelers, so I suspect this is the work of someone else."

Nimwick slapped a hoof across his chest in salute. "Well, at least we'll have somepony with a weapon on this convoy! It's supposed to be leaving soon, if you'd care to accompany us?" He angled his eyebrows hopefully.

Shinespark gave him a hard stare. "You know the Sosan Code, Nimwick. I will not draw first blood against my kin. It's even more important than ever, now that so few of us are left." She turned to Dorable, and added, "Though, I would appreciate a ride."

One of the worker stallions approached and bowed in means of asking permission to speak. "Milords and Milady, we are ready to depart, if you have no further business holding you..."

"We do not," Dorable rumbled, stepping towards the cart once again. "Come, Nimwick. Show me what you can do."