Octavia hurried to the door of the office and knocked gently. She heard someone saying the door was open, though they sounded more surprised that someone was knocking. She pushed in past the door and saw a small office with a desk. The desk came pre-installed with a tiny little officious mare. She was an adult, just one of the smaller ones, and an expecting one, her sides bulging.
The new mare smiled at seeing Octavia. "Ah, Her Majesty mentioned you'd be around eventually."
Octavia dipped her head at the stranger, taking in her details. She wore a silver star to match Longshot's gold one, and had a fancy hat on her head. "I'm afraid we haven't met before, I'm Octavia Melody, a performer."
She pointed at herself. "And I'm Miss Demeanor. I help the sheriff keep this town straight."
Octavia's ears perked. "I..." It would be dreadfully rude to inquire how a pony was called 'miss' and heavily swollen like that. She bit back the question.
Miss leaned forward. "That was the name I came with, and I didn't change it," she responded to the unasked question, looking amused at Octavia's reaction. "I have a stallion, two actually."
Octavia's eyes widened. "Is that normal?"
"No, no it is not." She sat back on her seat. "One of them lost his mare in a... terrible way, and me and my boy took him in, trying to coax life back into him. By the time he recovered, we had both decided we like having him around, and he didn't object, so he became part of our family." She sat up. "Now, the way I hear, you're not from around here, so this must all feel kind of off to you. The way Longshot talks about it, you're from some place where nobody has to suffer, like some kind of dreamland."
Octavia frowned softly. Her world, a dreamland? "There is more to do than simply luxuriate in the perfection of it all. We have problems... Just, typically, less immediately deadly ones."
Miss Demeanor leaned forward up onto the desk she was behind as far as she could with her belly as it was. "What's the worst you've had to deal with?"
Octavia lifted an ear, considering a moment. "Well, there was this one time a maddened centaur-like creature was stealing all the magic out of everypony, even the earth ponies like myself, leaving us helpless husks in a path of destruction."
Miss crashed back onto her seat. "Oh... That was not what I expected, I'll admit that much. So did any of your ponies get desperate enough to kill each other during the crisis?"
Octavia's eyes widened at the idea. "I should hope not!"
"Then it isn't so bad." Miss shrugged softly. "Enough of that. Turves ain't so bad as places go. We avoid most of the worst bits of the wastes, and I'm happy to be here. Now, you looking for the big mare?"
Octavia felt ruffled, her tail giving a fitful swish. "We had our sun stolen from us for a time."
"You have a sun, huh? Must be nice." She glanced towards a small window and the gloomy sky that hid behind it. "You get held at gunpoint before you came here, to our world?"
Octavia shrank back at that, deflating. "I... had not been..."
"I'm not trying to 'win' the 'I have a crappy world' contest." She rolled her eyes. "It might be rough, but we can make it better, and I'm doing my part." She climbed up onto the desk, standing on it easily with her small stature without knocking things off. "Now, once more, you're looking for Longshot, right?"
"Yes, ma'am." Octavia noticed that, perched on the desk, the small pony seemed larger, but also comically tiny all at once. "Do you know where she is?"
Miss Demeanor pointed down a hallway to Octavia's left. "First door on the left side. That one you should knock on before you burst in." She hopped down back to her chair. "And remember, she may officially be a sheriff, but treat her like a queen. She prefers it, and she earns it. I don't want to hear you made her upset over something so silly."
Octavia shook her head as she began down the hall, hooves clopping on the wood floor. "I wouldn't dream of it." Besides, so far she could tell, Longshot was, at the least, a local princess. If she preferred the title of queen, there was little harm to it that she could tell.
Arriving at the door, she knocked on it gently. "It's Octavia Melody," she called softly through the closed door.
She heard something moving, then the door swung inwards, revealing a smiling Longshot, seated at her own desk. Her horn was glowing gently, likely the cause of the opening door. "Do come in! I hear my investment has already turned dividends."
Octavia stepped past the door that closed behind her, its knob glowing with Longshot's same hue. "I come with good news, yes. Did you hear my performance, by chance?"
Longshot shook her head as she gestured at a bowl. The doorknob stopped glowing, then it resumed around something in the bowl, lifting up into view. It appeared to be some fashion of candy. "I'm afraid I did not, but I already heard about it. Some of my guards, who should have been listening for one another, were tuned into Duck's station, and word quickly spread." She pushed forward gently with a hoof, as if nudging the candy away with the force of the wind. Glowing with her power, it floated towards Octavia. "And I have you, my melodious mare, to thank."
Octavia felt an ear twist back on its own. "I hadn't intended to distract them. Did it--" Her words were cut off suddenly, that approaching candy popping right into her mouth. It was rich and sour, rather than sweet. Still, it wasn't a completely unappealing flavor, just one she was not used to.
"I will chastise them properly, have no fear. That was not your fault, dear. No, I would actually rather like that you continue to return to that radio and tolerate the manic jubilations of its operator." She pressed her forehooves together just under where her head was. "I want your music to be heard across the ashes to any that may care to listen." She gestured to a small stool. "But, for today, if you would oblige us, let me hear it."
Octavia's ears suddenly went erect, having a thought. "Excuse me if I am pressing where I am not wanted, but... you were not always a queen, were you?"
Shadow crept over Longshot's face, her smile fading, dashed. "I don't like thinking about then. It was a long time ago beside..." She sucked through her teeth in a hiss that ended with a cluck of her tongue against her teeth. "Let's not... Look, just... if anyone makes an offer to become royalty, stay away from them, far away." She raised a hoof to her chest. "I know I make it look glamorous, but it is not a fate I wish on anyone. You are..." She glanced away a moment. "You are just the right kind of pony. Earth-bound, strong, smart, regal... Just stay away from them."
Octavia shrank back a little, but curiosity gnawed at her fiercely. "Who should I be staying away from? A vague warning does little to protect me. Please, we are both adults, let us approach this rationally."
Longshot took in a slow breath, her sides expanding under the deep inhale. "Alright, yes. We are both... adults. You don't seem prone to flights of fancy." She leaned forward towards Octavia. "They are mad, every last one of them, but they don't show it, not at first. They're called the Faithful Subjects, but it is we, the False Queens that are the true subjects. They place a crown on our head and whisper how grand we are to distract us from the heavy shackles they place around our legs."
Octavia could see it was a deeply personal, and troubling, topic for Longshot and she wilted, feeling guilty for forcing the topic. "Alright, we can--"
"--No." Longshot held up a hoof. "You were right. You need to know. I had hoped you would have left, back to that wonderful world of yours, back to sunshine and where ponies smile and don't kill each other. Far away from here..." She shook her head, ears flopping a moment before they jerked back upright. "They look for ponies of the three 'pure' tribes. Earth-bound, such as you, pegasi, and unicorns. They tell them of grand possibilities and pamper them, raining presents and jewels." She wriggled her hooves in a facsimilie of the rain of riches. "Then comes the coronation... That is when I stopped being Long Shot--" She said the two words with a clear space between them. "--And became Queen Longshot."
Octavia tilted her head softly. "You were... a stallion before then, I hear?"
"People still remember that?" she reared up a bit, looking surprised. "I don't even recall what it was like." She shook her head softly. "That is the least of things, truly. When you are coronated, the maddening urge to rule is placed deep inside." She thumped her chest. "I must, simply must. I... It's just what I am. They tried to use it, to bind me to their cause, but I got away..." She shook her head slowly. "I got away from them, but not the urge. I will always be a ruler, even stripped of all title and thrown away, I will desperately cling to it. I have little choice. Knowing my orders brought such pleasure is... a delight for me. That is why I was so happy when you entered."
Octavia lifted one ear as the other tilted to the side. Longshot had looked quite joyful, though she had ruined that nicely. "I see. I will... do my best to avoid such people."
"Please, see that you do." Longshot nodded softly, relaxing a little. "Now, you brought it with you." She pointed to the case on Octavia's back. "And a snack. Is that bread? From Duck, we presume?"
Octavia looked over her shoulder and grabbed the bread in her teeth, pulling it free. "Would you like some, Your Highness?"
Longshot looked pleased at the title, some of her easy smile returning. "I will bother that baker when I desire it, and he will gladly surrender some. Let us not diminish his happiness. Is it as good as the treats in your honeyed realm?"
Octavia would not call Equestria 'honeyed', but she opted against arguing that fact. "It's very good, surprisingly so."
"I will tell him what a compliment that is, considering your origin. 'Your baked goods are good even to angels from heavenly realms.'"
Octavia darkened swiftly. "I am no angel, Your Highness."
"I disagree." She clopped her forehooves together once firmly. "You are very much like a being of the celestial realms, unused to the coarse nature of our humble mortal plane. You now wield a fitting instrument to carry hints of the Good Word to those who take the moment to hear it. Please, let me hear it. For a moment, I wish to be transported away from all of this." Her eyes half-lidded. "There's plenty of work yet to be done, and I will not delay it too long, but for this, please."
Octavia was quickly on her hindlegs, pulling free the cello from the case. So long as she intended to play it, she had no trouble grabbing the cello in her hooves like she used to always to. She cradled it lovingly as she grabbed the bow. "This cello is constructed of new woods. The bow, of alien strings. Despite that, it is a wonderful instrument, ready to sing for me." She ran the bow over the strings in a long steady note. "This is an adventurous piece that spins a tale of dangerous lands and the people who are, one hopes, strong enough to meet the challenges ahead of them."
With firm strokes up and down, wavering and her hooves dancing over the strings to change notes rapidly, she began to play her piece. There wasn't a sound in the room but the deep notes that the cello produced, echoing off the walls of the relatively small room. A concert hall it was not by far. Even the radio station had more attempt made to be a better acoustic fit for her performance, but it didn't matter.
She went into a spritely portion of the song, her eyes closed, but she could feel Longshot. The queen was relaxing, washing gently along the tides of the song that promised danger, but perhaps victory? Perhaps not. It left as many questions open as answers it teased at. Music was like that, at times. It was an uncertainty, quite suited for the uncertain world they were in.
As she hit the final note, she opened her eyes and saw Longshot watching her intently. She bowed towards the queen, though the bow fell free of her hoof mid-motion, causing it to clatter to the floor. "I do wish that was less... unreliable." She gently set the cello back in its case. "I hope that was to your liking?"
Longshot gestured at the bow and it floated up and over to rest in the case with the cello. "It was. More than that, you appeared to enjoy playing it. You look... happy." She cracked a smile, gentle and wispy. "It's a curious thing. People around here smile more than you, but they have less to smile about. We learn to enjoy what simple pleasures are allowed us." She flipped a hoof and the case closed, starting to fasten itself securely. "I do not envy you, melodic angel. In your head is knowledge of much better places."
Octavia stood up all the taller, still on two legs. "I do not intend to mope about. That is hardly my... usual habit. I apologize for doing so to begin with, but my friend was terribly wounded, and I am told all three of us have serious lung damage that needs tending to. It's been... a trying week."
Longshot waved to the ground and Octavia felt something gently nudge at her shoulders, but not nearly hard enough to force the issue of her standing. "You held in your hooves the key to salvation, only for it to be stolen from you. Imagining it makes our blood boil..." She huffed softly. "I have not been idle on that front. As reward for completing our task so admirably, we will share this information with you."
Octavia perked an ear, taking note of Longshot's sliding singular and plural person. Was that part of being a queen? She fell to all fours, slinging the case over her back, then reaching for the bread carefully. "What have you heard? Did they already break the sphere into pieces and use it for decoration?"
"That would be a cruel gift." She shook her head. "No, I don't mean to make a show of giving you bad news. We have received word that the artifact taken from you is being used as a show of power and wealth." She gestured off. "It's in Trash Heap, a despicable place of lost souls, bandits, and thugs. One of their more influential citizens is quite proudly holding onto it. They've done nothing with it of note, save for the display of it." She raised her brows as one. "But that means it has not been torn apart."
Octavia's eyes widened just a moment before it ended. Did she dare to hope? "This Trash Heap sounds like... a dangerous place."
"It is." Longshot sat up. "And it's not a place I will send anyone with lung damage towards. Did Stitch already suggest a means of healing the harm that has come to you?"
Octavia swallowed what was left of the sour candy in her mouth. "I'm afraid not. He said he did not wish to attempt it, and recommended we find a 'cleric'."
Longshot's eyes narrowed at that. "He is being timid. I know he has the skill to see this through. No matter, we will not risk you with a doctor not confident in the procedure. We will confer with him to see how severe he believes the damage to be, and seek out the proper help." Her hooves fell to the desk. "You sound quite fit for someone with this manner of harm."
Octavia could feel the sting in her chest, but she was not the sort to complain if she could avoid it. "I do my best, Your Highness. Should I wait then?"
"Yes, please." Longshot gestured to the case that held the cello. "For now, play that. Play it for yourself. Play it for us. You will please Duck immeasurably if you return to him, we should imagine. He does delight in company, especially of the musical variety. In his mind, he dwells in a world not much unlike the one you came from. He will not speak of harsh truths. Perhaps this can be a comfort."
Octavia felt a wry smile twisting her lips. "I do not wish to run away from the situation I am in." She shook her head firmly. "I will deal with it, one step at a time. Right now, that means having faith in you, Your Highness. Then we will face these ruffians and see if we can't recover the sphere, by polite word, subterfuge, or outright theft if need be."
Longshot blinked softly. "We did not imagine you would be so ready for that course of action." A little smile spread. "Please don't ruin my view of you, musical angel. We would prefer to imagine you as clean snow, pure and delicate. Spare me the harsh truths and allow me this one thing, to think that a precious thing lives, for a time, in my domain."
Octavia waved a hoof defensively. "I would rather not stoop to that immediately, but the brigands we encountered seemed... plain and clear in their lack of wish to work things through reasonably. I do not wish them harm, but I do want that back, and accepting a 'no' hardly seems a viable answer."
"Where I saw a delicate flower, you contradict me with an angry angel, ready to bear her sword if evil should stand in her way." Longshot pressed her hooves together. "I was being idealistic and unrealistic, forgive us. For now, you are dismissed and ordered to play your music. That is now your job."
Octavia hesitated a moment. She had a job. She had lacked one since coming to that strange world. "I... accept." She glanced to the door. "Payment is indirect, I gather. I will accept your efforts in seeing to our health, more than fair for the services rendered, Your Highness."
Longshot leaned forward over her desk. "You are one of only a few that speak my honorifics without hesitation. It is a pleasure to speak with you, dearest subject. I will do my best to serve you, even as you serve me." She gestured a hoof back and forth. "That's how it works, you know? We all work for each other, fer a better place in the end."
"I understand." Octavia turned for the door, glancing at the curious trophies that dotted the bookshelves in the room. There were precious few actual books, instead strange artifacts that she guessed Longshot had collected during her long reign as sheriff. "One thing, how long have you been here, ruling as their queen?"
Longshot smirked viciously at that. "How rude, prying into a mare's age like that. I thought better of you, Miss Melody."
Octavia's ears fell. "I meant no slight..."
Longshot laughed gently. "You have not insulted me, I assure, but I'll keep that answer to myself, if it suits you. Author willing, I will serve at the hooves of the good people of Turves until the sun comes back, or quits even giving us the little light it does." She leaned dangerously far over her desk. "I must rule. It's the gift they gave me. It's the curse I bear, but one I intend to handle gracefully. Now, shoo." she waved with both hooves. "You've taken up enough of my day, even if I would like to spend more of it with you, I must not. Begone."
Octavia slipped out the door, one ear turned back to hear Longshot already speaking to someone else, over a radio, she assumed. She closed the door, grabbing the handle in her mouth and drawing it shut, leaving Longshot to her work. She walked back to the entry foyer to see Miss Demeanor still at her own desk, writing with a pen clutched in her snout.
"Hey," she said, slightly mumbled around the pen before she spat it out to the side, clattering to the desk. "I heard the song, very nice." She reached out a hoof. "You going to play more now?"
"Not right this moment," Octavia tossed her head towards her instrument. "I'll be sure to visit Duck and his radio."
"Yeah?" She climbed up on the desk and nosed a squat box that began to emit soft static. "There we go. Next time he broadcasts, I'll hear it. I'd like to see more of that. It ain't like a guitar or harmonica or even a piano." She hopped back down onto her seat which slid under the force of her impact. "I heard from someone that soft music like that is good for growing foals." She gently rubbed one hoof against her swollen midsection. "I think it might be good for moms too."
Octavia did not resist the soft smile that overtook her features. "It would be a pleasure, to know that both of you are listening. Do you know if they are a filly or a colt yet?"
"A bouncing baby filly," admitted Miss Demeanor with a grin. "How many do you have?"
Octavia blinked at that. Not even if she had any, but how many? "I'm afraid I never had the... specific honor."
Miss Demeanor looked mildly confused before it cleared away. "I forget sometimes bigger ponies are not like us. You'll have one when you want one. We just usually want one." She grabbed a stamp in her mouth and brought it down with a smart thump. "Anything else I can help you with today? By the way, do you only speak Sylvan? Her Ladyship insisted I only speak it around you."
Octavia's ears fell softly. "That 'Sylvan' you speak of is the only language I required where I came from... I never learned other ways of speaking."
"You should fix that." She pushed the paper out of the way and started scribbling on the next one. "(Most people speak common.)"
"I didn't catch that," admitted Octavia.
"Did you want to?" She turned the pen in her mouth, the point facing Octavia. "I could teach you, if you want. You'll owe me, but I doubt you'll be too upset with what I want out of a musical pony."
Octavia glanced towards the door before back to Miss Demeanor. "I... would like that. Perhaps we could have lessons later in the day, after I perform for Duck's radio?"
"It's a date," chimed Miss Demeanor, looking quite pleased. "And bring that with you." she pointed at the cello directly. "Don't think you're getting something for free. Ain't nothing free, but that don't mean we have to be mean about it."
"Of course." She dipped her head low, then fled from the building with new intentions and information. She felt far more ready to take on Everglow one more time. "And I'll win this time," she promised herself as she firmly trotted through the town.
Until that came, she had bread to enjoy.