Howe was still talking excitedly at Sharpie when Gerardo re-entered the lobby. The growing signs of stress beneath her cheery demeanor were all the indicators the griffon needed to tell that Brightcoil hadn't been lying. Watching the stiffness with which her tail hung, he quickly decided to return the favor.
"Excuse me," Gerardo announced, loud enough to interrupt whatever Howe was yammering about, "but my meeting has adjourned. Fortunately, it was highly productive, and we have been granted entry to the Water District to search for any evidence of wrongdoing myself. Er, that is, I have." He nodded at Sharpie. "I was informed you already possessed your own? Regardless, we are free to make a surprise inspection and poke our beaks and noses into whatever we deem of interest."
Sharpie snorted derisively, her fake cheer entirely evaporated. "He knows my case is dead. He's going to let us in there and either show us nothing, taunt us with things we can't use, or plant fakes for us to find and waste our time on. It's how he works."
"Still..." Gerardo tapped a talon. "There are no limits he laid down. And if there is wrongdoing, which I know there to be, it is only a matter of sticking our heads deep enough to find it."
"You kids know you're in public, right?" Emil's quiet voice came from the corner, where he still sat, rocking. "I've seen a lot of conspiracies in my day, and it sounds like you're planning one right now!"
"For the record," Howe loudly proclaimed, "this pegasus is down with a conspiracy or two. Gotta spice up the old life somehow, you know?" He waggled his eyerows hopefully at Sharpie.
Gerardo swallowed awkwardly. "If you must know, sir, the conspiracy was executed against us, or myself in particular. I was unjustly robbed by the Defense Force, and Herman has given me clearance to steal my belongings back. Dramatic, perhaps, but nothing more than fighting illegal with questionably legal."
"Heh. I wasn't going to turn you in," Emil chuckled. "Seems everyone's planning something or other, these days. Who knows, maybe you'll be good enough at it for the Ambassador to consider worth playing with!" He threw back his forelegs, stretching, until one popped and he winced.
"You... seem to have a very interesting policy on workplace honesty," Gerardo hesitantly said.
"I'll say!" Howe pumped a hoof. "To be fair, I've seen some pretty messed-up liars myself. Once visited a town where every pony only spoke in lies, so they always knew what each other were saying but outsiders were obvious! Hah!"
Emil shrugged, favoring his shoulder. "If everyone were honest, that would even the playing field and prevent the Ambassador from truly showing his worth. A real leader cannot assume everyone they deal with has no hidden intentions of their own. Why not embrace reality and thrive?"
"In that case, you hold Herman in extraordinarily high regard." Gerardo blinked, looking back to the hallway door, eyes still seeing a faint impression of whiteness.
"It's a Yakyakistan thing," Sharpie interrupted, narrating quickly. "Their highest level of government is revered on an amount approaching worship. Anyone directly appointed by them, like Herman, effectively has the citizens under mandate to believe in them to do their job."
"The Bishops of the Nine Virtues," Emil added, nodding sagely. "There is a long history of-"
Flash!
In a burst of ice-blue magic, a white stallion materialized to the side of the room. Lowering his head and blinking slowly, Selma announced, "I have arrived."
"Uhh huh huh heh heh..." Howe rubbed the back of his neck nervously, choosing himself to be the first to speak. "Fancy meeting you here?"
Selma brushed him aside, ignoring him entirely and focusing on Gerardo. "Hello again, griffon. Forgive me if I've already forgotten your name; I don't believe you said it with enough flare last time. I've already received my instructions." He nodded to Howe, Sharpie and Brightcoil. "Who else is coming? We'll be teleporting to save time, and I prefer to only take one passenger at a time."
"She is," Gerardo said, quickly indicating Sharpie. "Er, that is... assuming you wish to?" Apologetically, he added, "Your arrival was somewhat swift, and we hadn't the chance to discuss this as a team before..."
"I'm coming," Sharpie answered stiffly, pointing a hoof at Brightcoil and then Howe. "She isn't; he is."
Gerardo did a double-take. "Pardon, but did you say we do wish for Howe to come?" He glanced across to Selma. "Is that even permissible?"
Howe gripped both of his cheeks tightly, squealing to himself in delight. "He said my naaame..."
"I've... said it many times, Howe..." Gerardo sighed in confusion with an underflow of annoyance. This wasn't how he wanted Selma's re-introduction to go.
Selma's horn briefly flickered, effect unseen as he closed his eyes. Eventually, he looked up. "He has permission, if not from me. He shouldn't expect his stay to be hospitable."
"I meant what I said," Sharpie affirmed. "We've been having an interesting talk, and I'm not ready to end it just yet. We won't get in your way." She glanced aside to Gerardo. "I'm reading this right, right? Herman asked him to escort you? Something about you mutually preventing each other from doing anything he doesn't want happening?"
"Something like that," Gerardo said, swallowing.
"Well then, let us not waste any time." Stepping toward Gerardo, Selma held out a hoof. "You first. Hold tightly. I will not be responsible for any failures of yours to observe magical safety protocols."
"And I have no intention of doing such," Gerardo reassured, reaching out and grasping Selma's muscular limb. "I am ready."
Another flash of magic, and they disappeared.
Gerardo blinked, eyes adjusting to the low lighting of his destination. The yak embassy had been poorly-lit, too, but teleportation was bright and Selma's magic was a harsh color and his pupils still needed to finish dilating one way before they would even consider going in the other.
The floor was stone, at least, red and cracked and slightly warmer than should have been the case for a cold mountain fortress built underneath a glacial lake. He was closely surrounded by three walls and a ceiling, made from the same substance. And in front... bars.
Black, rusted iron bars, stretching floor to ceiling and causing Gerardo to jump in alarm. "This is...!" he yelped, before catching his tongue. "Selma!?"
"I'm aware," Selma answered, sitting just on the other side. There was a door, Gerardo realized, and it held a sturdy black padlock that looked like it hadn't been opened since the application of its last coat of paint. Evidently, Selma had teleported them both into the cage, then warped himself out before Gerardo regained his senses.
"Before you run your tongue and accuse me of tricking you, listen," Selma continued, voice colder than Herman's office. "I have no intention of keeping you here. I had no intention of seeking you out, but it seems you came back to me. Now, I'm going to have to deal with you, and because you insisted on sticking your beak where it doesn't belong, you have to deal with me. In short, we will have to tolerate one another."
His voice dropped even lower. "Your friends you claim to care so much for are safe, for a given definition of the word. Free, above ground, no longer part of my jurisdiction. You can forget everything you've tried to do this morning and seek them out, and live innocently ever after wherever you please. Or, because you've caught me in a hard place and I have no choice but to cooperate, you can continue in your misguided quest... but I don't advise that. Make your decision."
"...What are you saying?" Gerardo asked, brow furrowed. "You robbed me for sport! Of course I want my cargo back; it is valuable!"
"Very well. Then we will go on your inspection," Selma answered. "I'll even go back for your friends. But first, we're going to talk, here in the most secluded, abandoned, private part of Ironridge, because what I am about to say is magnitudes more illegal than any police brutality." He leaned closer to the bars, far enough that Gerardo could have reached out and seized his neck had he wanted. "Tell me, griffon. Do you know what was in those crates of yours?"
"My job instructions were to keep them unopened and confidential," Gerardo said stoically. "I never deviated from them. The knowledge of their contents was for my employer alone."
Selma nodded. "And I was the one waiting for them."
"What!?" Gerardo hissed, taken aback. "Then why would...?"
"Would I confiscate them myself, instead of allowing you the dignity of your completed journey?" Selma's eyes bored into Gerardo, his gaze freely covering the entirety of the prison. "Because I had no intention of turning them over to my superior."
He stood up, began pacing, and continued. "In Yakyakistan's government, the highest existing security clearance is rank SS. It is so exclusive, no yak or pony who lacks it has ever seen or even heard of information containing that classification. I am one of four in Ironridge who possess it... alongside Valey, Herman, and now you. There is only one thing that has that classification: the knowledge of the existence of rank SSS, the rank given only to the nine Archbishops... and that it does contain certain projects."
Gerardo sat stiller than a glacier, listening. "For forty years, ever since Blazing Rain and the great restructuring, Yakyakistan has had an interest in Ironridge. A project they wished to complete, under that designation... a project worth dedicating forty years to bringing about. It was one of the first projects conceived under the post-restructuring government; one of their most important national priorities. A project that can only be completed in Ironridge."
Eyes narrowing in frustration, Selma narrated. "It is this project that keeps Yakyakistan in Ironridge, even as the city's stability hangs by a thread. It is this project that drives Yakyakistan to do everything in their power to preserve that stability... whether it means organizing private, ill-disciplined defense militias, or protecting Sosa from further economic collapse by funneling vast amounts of currency into them under the guise of a weapons contract; something your inspector friend has been torturing herself for years trying to figure out."
He nodded, scanning Gerardo's eyes for comprehension. "Herman and his superiors in Yakyakistan know how volatile this city is. They know they are playing with fire, and that despite their immense influence and power, anything could go awry. Today, they are heroes, but public sentiment is a fickle toy. Were they to fail... were they to become vilified in Ironridge's sight, to be banished from the city before they could complete their project... they created a backup. A Plan B, a package that would survive such a doomsday scenario and allow them to eke some semblance of payoff out of their decades of work. A meager closure, but far better than a complete loss... They sent that package through as obscure a route as possible, forbidding it from being carried by air in the name of delaying its arrival."
Bowing his head, Selma gave no indication that he was anywhere near finished. "Knowledge of Plan B, and the SS rank that came with it, was entrusted to me, a pony who would be believably loyal to Ironridge in the event of catastrophe, who could remain in the city and see the project through at all costs... and now the backup has arrived. However, they made one mistake."
His eyes glinted dangerously. "I am loyal to Ironridge over Yakyakistan. Plan B was in vain; a rebellion never came to pass. But now that backup is here, and with it, they could finish everything. Yakyakistan has been in this for the long haul. It has always been a large and dangerous investment for them to make. Now, their backup is no longer in transit, and every day the Spirit of Sosa and their accursed commander wind this city tighter and tighter and will not stop until it explodes from the strain. What do you think they will do, griffon? Will they sit still and keep playing their long game, knowing that time is their enemy and their insurance is gone? Or will they settle for a middle ground, use their last resort while it's here and then take what they get and leave? I know what I'll be doing. As the protector of Ironridge above all else, I cannot allow the yaks to leave, and thus your delivery cannot be completed."
Sighing, Selma turned away, tone softening and spent. "I apologize for any necessary brutality at the district border last night, though I won't pretend not to have enjoyed it. As I said, your friends are already safe. Now. We are going to the Water District, and you will conduct your inspection. You won't find your crates; I've already taken care of them. You will catalog our broken lights and leaky pipes and return to Herman, as he asked you to do. And then, you can return to your friends and go about your way... or, if you prove trustworthy, you could stay and obtain a job under me. I can always use more trustworthy confidants. Have I convinced you of the importance of my cause?"
Gerardo swallowed, taking a moment to allow the silence to ring in his ears. "I... do have many questions, but... yes, I believe I understand where you're coming from." As Selma visibly relaxed, he added, "The safety of my friends is my utmost concern, and while I will not rest until I have seen them well in person, it is heartening to know they were released. I imagine you only took them in the first place because of the brick?"
"There are many things I've done because of that brick," Selma growled. "Being forced to teleport you one at a time not least. But yes, her incarceration served no point beyond vengeance."
"I see..." Gerardo deflated. "Then there's only one other thing I must inquire as to. I poured a considerable amount of time and effort into completing that job, so to voluntarily forfeit it at the gates of completion... What will become of my compensation?"
"What were you promised?" Selma asked, voice level.
"A..." Gerardo hesitated, mulling over the wisdom of answering. "A Writ of Harmonic Sanction," he finally admitted. "Permission to use Yakyakistan's pass to the Plains of Harmony."
Selma's eyes shone greedily. "Now that is interesting..."
Gerardo blinked. "You just said this plan has been in motion for forty years, yet such an amount of compensation surprises you? Have there been developments in the world I am somehow unaware of?"
"I may have to re-evaluate certain ideas I had discarded earlier due to feasibility," Selma announced to nobody in particular. "I shall see what I can do. Your odds of getting your writ will significantly improve if you cooperate fully with my plan. Now, I imagine your friends back in the embassy are getting restless. Shall we get to work?"
"That would be very much appreciated," Gerardo said with a nod. "If I may, though... the way you spoke of Herman's clearance implies that he does not have SSS. Is that the case?"
"...Yes." Selma nodded. "Nobody in Ironridge knows the exact nature of Yakyakistan's project, nor what lies within those crates." Instantly and without time for further questions, he teleported into the cell, grabbed Gerardo, and vanished once again in a burst of light.