As Applejack headed back to Sweet Apple Acres, she encountered a pony struggling with some fallen knapsacks. She rushed to her aid and picked up some of the dropped items—papers, quills, images, folders.
"I know what yer' gonna say, miss," Applejack said, noticing the pony's mouth opening to say something. "You can keep the gratitudes for yourself."
"Ah," the stranger's voice being a mix of high-falutin and countryside, "to be helped by none other than an Apple! You must be thanked in some way." She closed her bags and placed them on her torso. "But, if you want to have it that way, then I'll respect it."
Applejack smiled, though she examined the stranger—clothed in a purple suit and a pink scarf, her well-combed mane implied a regular groom. She also had large earrings and her cutie mark was a trophy. "Well, before you leave, I'd like to at least know your name."
"Very well—it's only a trifle," she answered, nodding. "I'm Ms. Harshwhinny. As you could tell, I'm in a hurry to some official business in Dodge Junction."
Applejack stepped aside.
Ms. Harshwhinny zoomed off at a gallop, piles of dust kicked off into the air.
The farmpony coughed and closed her eyes.
"Uh, we're looking for a Ms. Harshwhinny in these premises," a pegasus guard in armor asked in his baritone voice as he and his fellow guard buddy stood in the middle of a large (though mostly empty) intersection in Ponyville—a white-and-yellow chariot behind them.
Lyra shrugged her hooves while she levitated her small lyre. "I don't know. I've never seen such a pony. Maybe if you could give a description?"
"Brown Earth pony with blonde hair," the guard replied. "Wears some clothes. Trophy cutie mark. Also earrings on her ears."
"Hmm." Lyra scratched her chin as she looked down. "Let me think..."
Then, loud galloping steps.
The guards' ears perked up.
Lyra looked over there.
"There you are!" Ms. Harshwhinny said. "Oh, if I'm awfully late for the appointment, I don't know what Princess Celestia would exact upon me!"
She leaped on to the chariot.
The guards hooked themselves to the vehicle.
And off they flew, bringing along the mare that had been asked for.
Lyra had her mouth open wide at the sudden sight.
The wind shook her mane, stringing it along with the breeze and the gale so high up. Breaking through clouds, speeding over villages and cities, the only constants being the bigger dirt paths and the reliable train tracks.
At first, the land was composed of plains with hills dotting the distance. Then, it shifted into patches of forests and swamps, rivers galore and in profuse—ruins could be seen if they were not obscured by both the pace and just how far down they were from the chariot. After them was a short run of more plains before it turned into a desert—bare, arid tracts that held not much in terms of life; aside from cacti and other such plants that could survive there, there were the robust rock formations of jagged and ragged form and a smattering of frontier communities.
Then, there was Dodge Junction.
Ms. Harshwhinny looked over the chariot and saw the tiny settlement.
Colorful buildings of varied colors contrasting with the dry one-note ground of brown. What seemed to be the only road was actually the main road, and that's where almost all of the buildings were situated. She could see spots going around town—most likely ponies.
Then, the chariot finally landed right in the middle of the road, between the buildings and the railroad with Dodge Junction's train station.
Ms. Harshwhinny hopped off and headed for that station, ignoring all the ponies that were gathering around the chariot and its guards who went on to pull their carriage to the other side of the tracks.
"Royal duties," one of the guards announced to the citizens, holding up a hoof above the railway.
"Aww!" was what many ponies said as they stomped away, disappointed and frustrated.
The train station here looked a lot like the one back in Ponyville. It, too, was somewhat run-down; worn. There was no separate tower—only the main building.
Inside was a rotating fan that blew cold wind—as cold as it could get in the burning climate in Southern Equestria. Rows of chairs alternated with tables where a scant number of ponies merely passed the time by playing some cards. The day's schedule of arrivals and departures were tacked on the wall, with scraps of paper indicating that the same tack had gone through many days and many schedules. The window let in the glaring sunlight; the lights on the ceiling were broken for the most part, though an electrician—made obvious by his goggles, his hard hat, and his thunderbolt cutie mark—was among the card-playing ponies.
In a secluded area of the building, at a small table behind some dividers and barriers and potted plants, was Ms. Harshwhinny holding a few documents and papers, straightening them up.
"If I'm not mistaken," she said, "you are Queen Novo of Hippogriffia."
Novo, who sat on the other chair, was a hippogriff. Her massive white-pink wings were closed, her purple mane and her purple tail were both made up of feathers, her yellow beak complemented her yellow crown with blue plumes, a huge white necklace adorned her—her legs had short blue-and-white feathers; forelegs had claws, hindlegs had hooves. She was also bigger than Ms. Harshwhinny.
"Yes, I am," Novo replied. "And, we are to talk about...?"
"This is an earnest request from the Princesses themselves," Ms. Harshwhinny said, placing the papers down on the table, her voice abrupt and blunt. "What we have here is a state of calamity."
"I don't see a single bit of calamity here in your peaceful kingdom," Novo said, lifting a claw. "The reception here has been quite warm—nothing of the panicky sort I was expecting."
"There's a reason why I called it here and not over at Canterlot," the pony told. "If we have it at the capital which is closer to the actual fighting, then we would be risking a disaster on our hooves. Crystal Empire scouts have already been caught as far as three miles North of Canterlot!"
"But you were able to take them down, weren't you?" Novo asked, raising an eyebrow about to dismiss.
"Y-Yes—"
"Then, see to it that you resolve this problem between yourselves." She waved it off with her other claw. "It's high time you got up."
"Queen Novo," Ms. Harshwhinny spoke, rising a little—a hoof on the table— "if you want to show to the rest of the world how great Hippogriffia is, now is your chance. Not only would you be bringing out your unique soldiers for all to see, but you would also be gaining a certain ally."
Novo narrowed her eyes, looking at the papers on the table and the quills over there. Then, she looked at the pony again. "It isn't that easy. Even if we do agree to send our volunteers to you, there is the undeniable fact that there's lots of space for them to cover to even reach Equestria, let alone the frontline which, if you're telling me right, is in the northern part. Setting aside logistical issues, we've benefitted from our historical isolation—nopony knows too much about us, nopony can strike us. Take the mystery of Hippogriffia away and some of what being a hippogriff is will be lost."
Ms. Harshwhinny sighed. She faced her—pleading. "Look, Queen Novo. I know that your isolation is good for you. But, why not open up?—not everything, but some things. You have lots of knowledge and art stored up there—well, we have lots of knowledge and art stored up here, too, and we share it freely. Our cultures could join together and we might make wonderful things from this friendship. You don't have to go all out on it for now—small steps, Queen Novo. This is not just us asking for your help. This is us asking you to let your kind soar and...prosper with us, much more after the war's over."
"Hmm." Novo leaned back on her chair.
Silence between the two.
"Honey—what you said reminds me of my daughter." She looked up, thinking. "Skystar's heard more than enough tales from the outside and she's fed up with having to stay in our kingdom all the time." She smiled, still looking up. "And, she'd be more than happy to have more friends—you could only befriend so many when you're stuck on an island." She let out a short, muffled giggle.
"So...will you accept?"
Novo placed her claws on the table. "It is not a simple matter. This could snowball into terrible proportions. I'll have to consider it thoroughly—and, maybe my daugher might push me to saying 'Yes'."
Ms. Harshwhinny sighed—happier. "That is indeed better than a flat out 'No'!"
She placed the papers back into her bags.