Shinespark's conference room wasn't poorly lit, but the atmosphere was tense enough to physically change the shadows, drawing Gerardo's eyes to the edges and crevices and little dark spots filled with things unseen. Matryona had left at some point, leaving him alone with the room's real presence: Shinespark and Braen, sitting on opposite sides of the table yet both staring directly at him. He hesitated, throat briefly paralyzed.
"You were going to ask something?"
It was Shinespark who broke the silence, rocking a hoof back and forth on the table idly. She didn't break eye contact.
"Ah. Yes, of course..." Gerardo swallowed, and again was able to speak. "When I was leaving Riverfall, Arambai gave me a lengthy speech of advice. One of his primary points was to avoid becoming tangled up in choosing a side at all costs. You and him are on the same team, yet you request me to directly disobey his words? Because this is an invitation to take a side if I've ever seen one."
"We wanted you three to remain inconspicuous for as long as possible," Shinespark answered. "That's why we didn't ask you to stay a while when you were entering the city. Arambai said you had other business in the city to attend to, and really, it's a nice place on the surface. We wanted you to enjoy it... but not risk you getting too sympathetic with the Defense Force or the yaks. That's why he said that. It turns out, though, that the Defense Force did a pretty great job of alienating you on their own, so that didn't wind up being an issue."
Gerardo clicked his beak. "And how do I know that my friends actually are in good care, seeing as I haven't seen them in more than a day?"
Shinespark frowned. "Do I look like the kind of pony who would lie about the safety of ponies my father specifically told me needed to be protected?"
"A valid point..." Gerardo's talon lowered, his objections being dealt with one by one. "Now, you speak of sides, but who precisely would we be working against? The Defense Force and the yaks?"
"Ironridge isn't held in the grip of a malignant conspiracy," Shinespark said, shaking her head. "At least... I hope not. Where it is is crushed between opposing influences who all want the most they can get out of it without thinking of the ponies who live here, and yes, the yaks are a part of that. Remember, we're not working to make an Ironridge where there are sides who are winners and losers. We're working in the name of the city, against anyone who would try to stop us, and we have a plan. For now, our only enemies are those who are trying to divide the city further."
"And wouldn't that include her?" Gerardo pointed a talon at Braen. "From what I've heard and seen, the Spirit is slightly less fair and significantly more military in its approach."
Shinespark shook her head. "You can't change the rules by playing by what you want them to be. There's a lot of things we've had to do to get this far we'd never want anyone to do in an ideal world, but that we've had to do because if we pretended everything was honest and fair, someone would stop us. You'll need to be okay supporting someone who is slightly hypocritical... but I can assure you, my heart is in the right place and I believe in the world I'm working for. If my motives were anything less than pure, the Ironridge of today would be my paradise."
Gerardo squinted. "When you say 'a lot of things...' what kinds of moral atrocities are you referring to?"
A blue aura lit the room, and a padlock on a display case undid itself. Shinespark didn't move.
Instead, Braen got to her hooves with a clank of armor and walked to the case, interlocked plates moving seamlessly around her. She reached the open compartment... and stretched, one metal wing unfurling itself to its full gleaming length.
Gerardo's jaw dropped, light from above catching on individual metal feathers that flowed over each other with grace that made the rest of the smithery look like foals' play. It was apparent from their size and construction that no real wings could fit inside... wasn't it? "Those wings can move?"
"Yes, but that isn't the point." Shinespark watched Braen carefully, the metal mare reaching her wing like a hand into the case. She drew it out, held it over the table... and deposited a shard of smooth, black glass, polished to a mirrorlike sheen that absorbed all color, reflecting the ceiling above in grayscale. "This is. We've been using these ever since they first appeared, knowing full well what they can do to ponies who don't have brands. That's how far we're willing to go."
"I see..." Gerardo blinked slowly. "Would you at all mind if I made a specific request for a reward? While I am inherently dispositioned toward wandering hero work, it does very much help..."
"You can ask." Shinespark met his gaze as Braen slowly hid the dark stone away where it belonged, tightening the door on her way back. "If I can help, I'll make a good effort."
"Well..." Gerardo gulped. "My original task, as I have explained, was to deliver a set of crates to the Defense Force. My original goal, as I may have glossed over in an attempt to avoid divulging any knowledge that could prove sensitive, was to obtain in payment a Writ of Harmonic Sanction from Yakyakistan. Now, as my crates are very likely still in this city, and the payment may have been here to begin with-"
"We can do that," Shinespark interrupted. "Maybe not get your permission specifically, but if you want to go to the Plains of Harmony..." For the first time that meeting, she grinned. "You might be a lot more interested in exactly how we plan to fix Ironridge."
"Oh really?" Gerardo raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, really." Shinespark nodded, grin broadening. "Here's a hint. Sosa used to be the gateway between Ironridge and the rest of the northern world. Now, the Sky District is. If we want to give Sosa that role back without taking away what the other districts have..."
"Then it follows that you... need a new world to be the..." Gerardo breathed, eyes so wide they were watering from strain. "I have no idea how you plan to do that, but if I follow your implications correctly, you may consider me on board."
"Well, it seems we have a deal!" Shinespark beamed, getting up from her chair and trotting around the table to shake his talon. "Now, we've got a lot to cover, and as it's getting late and we have this bomb business to deal with tomorrow..."
"Expedience would be a virtue, yes," Gerardo finished for her. "Perhaps it would be useful for me to inform you of certain major points I've already deduced, then, to save the time of explaining them?"
"Oh?" Shinespark's brows rose. "What kinds of points are we talking about?"
"For one, I have a very accurate hunch as to the identity of the pony sitting silently inside that suit of armor there," Gerardo replied, unable to help feeling slightly smug.
Shinespark smirked. "Do you, now? Go on, let's hear it."
Gerardo bowed. "Of course. You see, I managed to embed my sword in her right front forehoof during our altercation in the forest, which would expectably warrant for her to have a limp. Additionally, she showed up in the Defense Force fortress on what was arguably a very foolhardy mission at precisely the time my friends may have been in need of a rescue. Now, this potential rescue attempt occurred shortly after I made a visit to Chancellor Dior, and was promptly shooed away as if he had somewhere very urgent to be. However, during my short time there, I could not help but notice he possessed a limp in his right front leg."
Eyes narrowing in impending victory, he pressed on. "Furthermore, as it is readily apparent now, you and Braen seem to trust each other significantly more than you're willing to let on in public, and you also have quite a high opinion of Arambai. As Arambai told me personally that Dior would be a trustworthy and versatile recourse should I ever find myself in an extreme amount of trouble... I propose Braen is not in fact a she, but a he."
Shinespark's jaw dropped slightly in awe, and she whistled. "That's remarkable," she managed. "You didn't even follow the clues we left. You just stumbled into that conclusion on your own..."
"...Clues?" Gerardo's pride faded to the kind of polite, innocent smile one gives when being accused of a crime they never even knew existed, slowly sliding into a frown of confusion and denial. "You... did what? I'm afraid I don't understand..."
"You're right about one thing," Shinespark said, dodging the question. "Dior is helping us. He's one of the most trustworthy ponies I know, and is one of the elite few who know every last secret Sosa has to keep. He's been in with us since the beginning, since before he snuck his way into the chancellorship through guile, luck, a bunch of superstitious yaks and a very useful brand. He's an invaluable ally who protects us from curious snoops like your friend Sharpie, who mean well but have no idea just how much is out there for them to stumble into. He keeps the yaks happy, the economic council competing against each other instead of Ironridge, and lets us have things like the weapons contract that supplies massive amounts of off-the-record funding. But most importantly? He's a scapegoat."
Her eyes were hard with determination as she talked, having long since abandoned her chair. "Dior intentionally set himself up so that, in case of a true catastrophe, he could take the blame. If the Spirit ever went too far... If they took what we tell them too literally and irreparably hurt our cause... he could be passed off as Braen, and stop them from taking down what really matters. It would be a tremendous setback, but it's a fall he's always been ready to take. Because the truth is that we can lose the Chancellor's office, and we can let Sosa lose hope, and we can lose contact with Riverfall and lose the Spirit and lose all of the factories to a flood and still have a chance, so long as the true keys to our salvation remain safe and intact."
Gerardo leaned forward, asking the most important question. "Then what is this mythical core pillar on which everything hinges? Who is inside that suit of armor, and how are they so important?"
Shinespark wore a mysterious smile. "Myths, you say? It's interesting you should word it that way..."
With a rustle of folding metal, Commander Braen's faceplate began to retract in on itself, her helmet folding back and out of the way. In less than a second, the rim of the armor's neck was exposed, its golden metal having completely retreated from the chinguard up.
Gerardo's jaw dropped, and he stared, speechless, at what he saw.