//------------------------------//
// Rejection Buddies 
// Story: The Olden World 
// by Czar_Yoshi 
//------------------------------//

Marin led Gerardo through several more corridors, coming to the base of an elevator. As its immaculate golden doors closed behind him and the ascent began, he let out a sigh of relief, only half because he was on his way to a guaranteed meeting with Dior. He had managed to ditch Howe... been given an excuse to, no less. If at all possible, he had no intention of returning through the lobby, leaving the pegasus to do something other than follow him.

That also meant leaving Slipstream, of course, and it hurt somewhat to repay her loyalty, pointless as it was, by leaving without an explanation. Hopefully she wouldn't hold it against him. Perhaps he could ask Marin to apologize for him...

The elevator slid to a stop, opening near the edge of the tower wall. It was another lobby... or perhaps a pointless show of space, dominated by a curved, crystalline window that stretched seamlessly from floor to ceiling, following the outer shell of the tower. It was reminiscent of the room high in Arambai's tower in Riverfall, with its panoramic view of the town, only this one faced all of Ironridge. High enough to see over the rim of the mountain wall, the lights of the Stone District glimmered below, and beyond them sporadic clusters in the Earth District, likely living settlements. Beyond those, Sosa.

His wing brushed against a plant that had been placed next to a cushy bench. It was warm enough in the tower for such things, almost hot, as if some planner or architect had decided that night should be just as warm as day. The wedge-shaped lobby was certainly well-lit, with the same kind of even, sourceless lamps that brightened the Skyport. Whether a property of the lights or an enchantment on the glass, no light was reflected, ensuring that the well-lit tower and dark nightscape provided optimal contrast.

Marin indicated a door to the side. "In here," she directed. "The Chancellor should be waiting for you. When you're finished, he'll have someone escort you back. I need to return to the entrance, now. Good luck, whatever your request." She turned, stepping back into the elevator. Quickly, the doors blocked her face from view, and a low hum announced her departure downward.

Gerardo shrugged, raised a talon, and rapped on the hard metal door.

"Come in."

The door slid open of its own accord. It wasn't an office, as Gerardo had been expecting, but a conference chamber, a long, rectangular table positioned with one end to the window, which continued for the width of the room. A single pony occupied it, sitting near but not at the end. He was small, with the chin and countenance of a mare, and a dark gray coat and orange mane and eyes that burned into Gerardo with their intensity. "Chancellor Dior, I presume?" Gerardo asked hesitantly.

"I am," Dior replied, lighting his horn with a golden aura and pulling out a chair across from him as an invitation. "And you're Gerardo, the griffon from Riverfall. I was told to expect you, though I didn't think Arambai meant so soon."

Sensing the stallion wanted to get quickly to the point, Gerardo wasted no further time with pleasantries. "My companions," he began. "Starlight and Maple, who recently joined me. While we were attempting to fulfill my delivery, we were attacked by members of the Defense Force, including a captain by the name of Selma. I was incapacitated, and I strongly believe them to have been taken captive."

"I see." Dior nodded slowly, keeping all four hooves beneath the table. "Where and why did they attack you?"

Gerardo gulped. "At the entrance to the Water District. I had been instructed to go there as a part of this job. Unfortunately, despite my best efforts we encountered some... hostile resistance."

Dior closed his eyes. "Arambai already gave you a speech on why you shouldn't put those two into danger, didn't he?"

"He did," Gerardo hesitantly admitted, "and I assure you, I took utmost care to-"

"You didn't." Dior stood, interrupting him. "I don't know the details on this job you were doing, but you didn't need to involve them. You could have done it on your own. I won't waste time telling you off, however. I have the safety of two ponies to see to. Good night."

The stallion paced around the table, heading for the door... though limped would be more accurate. As Gerardo watched, he heavily favored a foreleg, not carrying it but putting no weight on it either. The griffon was still blinking when Dior's horn flashed, prompting the room's door to slide open. The lights dimmed and went out as he left, and the door stayed open, waiting for the room's last occupant to exit.

"Well, that was certainly brisk," Gerardo muttered to nobody in particular. Getting up, he straightened his feathers and marched toward the door himself, rapidly sinking into thought. Dior had said he would handle things, and Gerardo had no doubt he could... but was it wise to trust him? For that matter, Selma had seemed like a less-than-legal pony. What if he was able to hide the existence of the incident? And precisely how long would Dior take, helping Maple and Starlight? Most importantly of all, there was almost no way he would recover the crates, and that was a problem. A problem that would require Gerardo's own intervention to solve...

He was abruptly shaken from his thoughts when the sound of sobbing reached his ears. Peering around, he stepped further into the windowed lobby, the conference room door sliding shut behind him. The sound told him to look backwards, and eventually he saw the source: on a bench closely guarded by two potted ferns, a unicorn awkwardly lay, a professionally-clad pegasus crying quietly into her chest. She stared blankly, looking through Gerardo, apparently just as deep in though as he was.

Blinking, Gerardo stopped, staring back. Something about the couple felt familiar, though he couldn't quite place where...

The unicorn's eyes focused in recognition. "Hey, Sharpie, look," she said cautiously, patting her companion's back. "I think it's that griffon we saw on the elevator on the way in, remember?"

"I wasn't paying attention..." Sharpie whimpered from the unicorn's fur.

"...Ah. Yes." Gerardo quickly composed himself, ensuring he was presentable. "I believe I recall you as well, now that you mention it." Bowing, he added, "My name is Gerardo Guillaume, griffon adventurer extraordinaire. A pleasure to make your acquaintances."

He wasn't entirely sure what purpose talking to the mares would serve, but Dior had left him on his own without so much as an escort, and it was this or return to the company of Howe. Besides, they had opened conversation and it would be rude to simply walk away.

"I'm Brightcoil," the unicorn replied with a tired look in her eyes. "And this is Sharpie. Nice to meet you, I guess. Sorry, but we're a little down right now..."

"You think?" the pegasus jabbed, raising her head just enough to stare at Gerardo with one pink eye. Sniffing, she added, "Had a productive meeting with our wonderful, almighty Chancellor?"

"I..." Gerardo hesitated. "Can't say that I got what I wanted, but..." He tilted his head. "Are you all right? It's somewhat unusual to see a grown mare crying so, after all, and much as I hate to intrude..."

Sharpie didn't answer, burying her face back in Brightcoil's coat and shaking anew. Brightcoil looked sadly down at her, then up to Gerardo. "She's an inspector for the government," she explained softly. "For the past two years, she's been building a case that the yaks are stealing huge amounts of money from Skyfreeze, and recently finished... but she's been trying to present it, and nobody will hear her. Every letter gets rejected, everything..." She hung her head. "Today, she got a meeting with the Chancellor in person, and I came with her to support her. We waited in line for over six hours... and he just dismissed her without even hearing the full story, like always." She rubbed Sharpie's back again as the pegasus heaved another sob. "It's a good thing I came. Two years of work, wasted..."

"I dedicated everything to this..." Sharpie hissed, lifting her head. "And they just threw me out like garbage... They deserve to lose that money! Screw them! Screw all of them!"

"I have some inkling of how you feel, myself," Gerardo replied, seating himself across from them. "A... project I have dedicated the last year of my life to has recently run into an untimely end at the hooves of the Defense Force, and all I got upon going to Dior for help was a rebuke. At best, he will clean up the fallout and leave me back where I began. At worst, well..." He sighed.

Sharpie sat up, smiling darkly. "The Defense Force, huh? If I had my way, I'd wipe that sham off the face of the district, just to spite them."

"Really?" Gerardo raised an eyebrow. "You have an issue with them as well?"

Clearing her throat, Sharpie sniffed one more time and launched into speech. "What I was investigating involves a weapons contract used for arming the Defense Force. It was set up to be funded by Skyfreeze and administered by the yaks, who chose to source Sosan goods. But the Defense Force is just an excuse. The weapon deliveries keep getting stolen before they reach the Stone District, and every time it happens, the yaks ask for the contract to be renewed, and Skyfreeze accepts because it makes work for Sosa and they don't want to stand up to the yaks. It's nothing but an endless cycle of waste, and nobody will lift a hoof to stop it..."

As she slumped back into Brightcoil's embrace, Gerardo took a moment to process the information, reconciling it with what he already knew. Most of it was merely assembled puzzle pieces he already possessed, but... "What do the yaks have to do with this? Isn't the Defense Force administered by the Sky District?"

Sharpie didn't speak. Brightcoil answered for her, saying, "When they first made the Defense Force, it was a community effort organized by the yaks because Skyfreeze wouldn't do anything about the bandits in the Earth District... real bandits, who stole food and money and hurt ponies, unlike these new ones. Eventually, they recognized the effort and officially sanctioned it and took it over. Chancellor Dior is the Defense Force commander in name, now, but it's just for show. Everything is still handled unofficially by the yaks. The real commanders are two ponies called Selma and Valey, who are paid by Skyfreeze but hired by and answer to the yak ambassador, Herman."

"Selma and Valey..." Gerardo whispered, feeling his eyes widen. "Most interesting. If I may, though, how does this profit the yaks? It sounds as if it merely results in Sosa becoming filled with weapons."

"It's obvious, if you look at the city's import-export charts between districts," Sharpie grumbled. "There's a lot of money going into Sosa because of this contract, but when the shipments never leave, you can't verify that they have the same net worth. It's a black spot on the records, a perfect place for criminals to smuggle money out before it even goes into production. And I've seen the Sosan trade carts; they make no effort to defend them. They're obviously complicit. But the yaks..." Her face tensed in a snarl, and she held it for nearly a second. "They set it up, clearly know what's going on, could stop it at any minute and have no other obvious benefit. Either Sosa's bribing them to keep this going, or they're getting extorted, and I hate it."

Blinking, Gerardo straightened his posture. "I... see. That does match my own, limited experience of Sosa. Well, seeing as I have nothing better I am capable of doing with my time, and we seem to have the kindred experience of being brushed off by the Chancellor, would it interest you to know that my own quest was interrupted by a run-in with Captain Selma in which he detained myself and my companions, stole my lawful possessions, attacked me for sport, and ultimately left me unconscious in the middle of the road?"

"My case is dead! It doesn't..." Sharpie started to sigh, then stopped, growling. "You know what? I don't care anymore. If you want to try catching the yaks and their stupid Defense Force money sink doing something illegal, go right ahead. There's no way you can put together anything that'll even scratch them... but if you want to try anyway, we'll help you, just to spite them."

Gerardo nodded. "I very much do wish to do something about this. What does your help entail, exactly?"

"Our residence is in the embassy compound." Slowly, Sharpie pushed herself away from Brightcoil and got to her hooves. "The offices are closed for business at this hour, but you can stay the night with us and meet with Herman first thing in the morning. We can get you a meeting for sure, at least."

"Sharpie, are you sure...?" Brightcoil hesitated, placing a questioning hoof on her shoulder.

Sharpie looked back. "You want to see them ruined too, don't you?"

"About staying with us, I mean," Brightcoil said, shuffling her hooves. "We only have one bed, and after today, well..."

Sensing where the conversation had the potential to go, Gerardo intercepted. "I am perfectly able to sleep on the floor, or even the roof if need be. Either way, your generosity is appreciated."

"You can sleep inside. We'll be fine." Sharpie straightened her outfit and looked toward the elevator. "It's getting late, and it's a long walk back through the skyport. We should be going if we want to be up before everyone else tomorrow. Come along."

Gerardo hesitated, falling into step regardless. Hopefully Slipstream wouldn't try to wait all night for him. Howe, he could care less. All night... "I do wish we could act earlier than morning, though," he remarked. "The less time elapses between now and when my friends and cargo are safe, the better."

"Too bad," Sharpie answered, a note of dryness to her voice, "because waking Herman at this hour is not a good way to get what you want. Besides, nothing ever happens during the night, anyway."