There’s a very short list of ponies who make better pathfinders than a Lithin courier. The north never lets you take the same route twice, so if you can't figure out a way around whatever it’s throwing your way today, you’ve run your last route. If I’d had any grasp of where places were in the Heartlands, I’d have no problem getting anywhere I pleased.
More importantly, I could tell that Wander could do the same. In fact, it seemed she could do even better than I could. Her routes seemed to be meandering and slow for the first few hours of our journey. She would move up a steep hill when the valley between it and its neighbor looked perfectly traversable, push through foliage she could could go around, and even scale small cliffs for seemingly for no reason.
That is, until you followed her. Her routes were always paths of least resistance. Sure, she might lead you up a steep hill instead of around it, but the other side of the valley there would turn out to be a mudflat, or something else harder to cross than simply a steep hill. It was like Wander had a perfect map in her head, somehow always up to date on changes to the world around her.
If I didn’t know for a fact that she never looked down at her legs while traveling, I’d swear to Celestia that she was using a Pipbuck.
Thanks to Wander’s miraculous pathfinding we made excellent time through the foothills and into the mountains to the south. Even a recent avalanche we had to walk across didn’t slow us down. A mere day and a half after we set out together, I laid eyes on Two Bits.
It looked to me like Two Bits had built itself up in a pre-war prison, taking advantage of its mostly intact walls. The settlement proper took up the large central complex where a dozen buildings were built in the middle of the prison yards. Surrounding it was a plane of nothing but gravel and coarse dirt for a full kilometer in every direction.
I liked the wall. It wasn’t square like most Equestrian forts. Instead, its walls formed a hexagon enclosing at least five square kilometers, which had certainly once been filled with fenced off yards and buildings. Now it contained a sprawling shanty town.
The walls had a tower at each corner, and another for the middle of each segment. The old guard towers were mostly ruins, but two still stood tall, and I could see that they even had a flag flying from the top of one of them. Based on the fact that I could make out the general color and shapes on the flag from all the way over here, it had to be positively enormous!
Wander and I were atop a hill just over two kilometers or so north of the town. I couldn't be entirely sure, but the massive flag appeared to have a white field with a red stripe along the bottom, a red sun in its canton, and a device in the shape of a mountain, or maybe a city’s skyline. It also had what was probably a line of text running along the bottom just above the red stripe.
Why do ponies think text is a good idea on their flags? Flags flutter or hang. They’re also generally located high up on things like poles or towers. Reading text on a flag is not something a pony can just do at a glance. The entire point of a flag is to identify whose flag it is at a glance.
The flag I saw flying over Two Bits didn’t match any Equestrian heraldry I knew of. I wasn’t into vexillology, but I had read most of mom’s library. I knew most of the old world flags.
This one was new. It had been made post-war. The Heartlands could make fabric. This means they could grow enough plants to feed everyone and had enough farmland left over for textiles.
Jackpot!
Bad flag design and ostentatious wealth aside, Two Bits seemed like it could be a nice place. You know, nice for a town built in an old maximum security prison. The homes inside the walls were constructed out of scrap material. Old pieces of aluminum siding and plywood. Plumbing pipes, old railroad ties, chicken wire, tattered tarps. It was like the ponies living here had found a junkyard and arranged it into houses in an artful manner.
Not that Two Bits would form a picture from above, or anything, but you could tell that the ponies who built it had cared about the aesthetics of their homes. When I’d imagined a Heartland town, I’d imagined holes in all of the walls, leaks in every roof, and windows which were really just holes big enough that they hadn’t even tried to cover them up.
Two Bits was nothing like that.
The salvaged supplies were all used in ways which took full advantage of whatever workable material they had. Tarps were pulled taut on wooden frames to form roofs and corners for rough walls. It was clear to see that each building had a proper framework, as well. They were all nearly square, and the walls and roofs were neither warped or slanted. Some of the buildings even had more than one story.
Either Two Bits was a wealthy town with easy access to choice scrap materials, or I had really underestimate what towns in the Heartlands would be like.
Wander looked in my direction, waiting for me to speak.
I swished my tail awkwardly as the seconds ticked by, and eventually cleared my throat. “What?”
“I’m just wondering why you’re staring at the place so intently,” Wander said with a slight grin. “It’s like you’ve never seen a town before.”
“Not one made from junk,” I said as I continued to look over the intricately developed little town.
Wander’s ears folded back, I could tell by how her hood lowered against her head slightly.
Ponyfeathers! I didn’t mean to upset her! Quick, elaborate.
“I like how it’s obvious even from this far that everypony used what they could find as best they could. The town looks like a big patchwork quilt. I like it!” I said with a smile.
“Oh… So, what are towns in your kingdom like?” Wander asked as she started to trot downhill.
“Each of the seven townships is different,” I said as I fell into step behind her. “But we mostly build from crystal and timber. Plenty of evergreens to log, plenty of crystal ponies to farm crystal.”
Wander retched slightly. “Ugh! Reflective crystal everywhere… Every sunny day must turn into a maze of lens flares!”
I giggled. “No. The crystals they grow aren't reflective enough to do that. Which is good. The sun is, uh, seasonal.”
Wander was silent for a few minutes before she nodded to herself. “Right! You must have summers where the sun doesn't even set all the way and winters where it doesn't rise all the way that far north. With the sun and moon out of control, I didn’t think those rules would still apply… But I guess they do mostly stay on the same paths. It’s their timing that’s bucked.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You mean to tell me that the tales of the Royal Sisters controlling the sun and moon weren’t just old mare’s tales or propaganda? They actually did that?”
I felt my lips purse as I frowned slightly. Maybe they really had been goddesses!
I was just pretending they were because they had run a world that didn’t suck for thousand of years. It seemed like the right respect to give their memories.
Wander nodded. “Mhm. Sure did. I saw her do it myself almost every year. There was a national solstice holiday called the Summer Sun Festival. Celestia would raise the sun on the solstice in public for all to see. She’d make it clear she was doing it too, she’d stop it behind her for several long moments, and use the sun as a spotlight while making a speech. Then, the Princess would let it continue about its merry way. Well, after giving it a little push to make up the lost time.
“It might be hard for someone your age to believe, but we used to get a perfect twelve hours of day and twelve hours of night every day. None of this totally random spread we have now. I swear I watched the moon going backwards once, but nopony believes me.”
I bit my lip. I was tempted to tell her I’d been alive before the war too, but with how faded my memories were of that time I might as well have not been around. My first clear memory was standing up for the first time in mom’s lab. The megaspells had fallen only a few days before…
Now that I thought about it, I hadn’t ever seen the sun under Celestia’s command.
I decided to smile softly. “I’m a little older than I look.”
Wander hummed and turned her head to look at me out of the corner of her hood. “I figured you were… You’re a strange zebra.”
I raised an eyebrow. “How so?”
“For starters, I know that zebras being able to kill you with a glance is horseapples,” Wander said with a casual swish of her tail. “But I saw you do exactly that.”
Oh. Right. She’d been watching the entire time.
Well, there’s no use hiding the fact that I’m a cyberpony from someone who had seen it.
“I have an ocular laser implant installed in my left eye. It was originally a utility laser for cutting organic materials and plastics. I upgraded it to work as a sort of derringer,” I said, hoping that would be enough for her to stop prying.
We had been getting along pretty well over the last day and a half. I didn’t want her to know just how extensive my cybernetics were. Few ponies remained friendly after learning just how much metal I had in me.
“Sure,” Wander agreed with a calm nod. “But that’s not all I’ve seen. You took a few bullets like a champ, even a shotgun to a leg. You’re walking without a limp. Hay, you got a belly full of shrapnel on top of all that… And I don't see a drop of blood on your clothes.”
Horseapples… Maybe I could convince her I just had the armor and my laser?
“My mom’s a cybersurgeon,” I said with a straight face that hid most but not all of my worry. “She gave me class two subdermal armor a long time ago. It’s not all that good. That buckshot almost punched through… And I was too limping, for your information. Everything popped back into place after a few hours.”
Wander nodded twice. “Mhm. Mhm. That would explain that. But you know what it doesn’t explain?”
Oh no… What else had I given away?
“I’m a ghoul,” Wander continued. “I don’t have to eat. When we made camp, and I didn’t eat, that’s okay and normal. You, on the other hoof, you should have had something to eat. But you didn’t.”
“Oh. That,” I chuckled nervously. “As a Royal Courier, it’s not uncommon for me to go for extended periods without eating while remaining active. Ponies don’t have to eat everyday to survive.”
Wander nodded in agreement. “Sure, they don’t,” she agreed as she came to a stop on the firm gravel and turned around to look me in the eyes. “But you know what they do need to do every day? Drink.”
I froze for a heartbeat. Wander smiled. Me locking up was all she needed to see, but I still felt the need to continue trying to look normal. I was happy, making a new friend…
I nodded slowly. “Y— yes! Hydration is important for ponies, but—”
Wander chuckled, cutting me off.
“Yeah, you might be in peak physical condition, have great genes, and gotten training from a ghoul who used to be a Dune Runner in Saddle Arabia,” Wandersaid with a smug grin and hoof gesture I didn’t understand. “But even they need to have a drink every day.
“I watched you check our bags for damage last night. You don’t have any food or water on you. Not even a flask. I need to know what I’m traveling with before I take you all over the wasteland. If you’re a mutant and have special needs, I need to know. So, how are you alive? Are you a pretty ghoul with some fancy hardware, or what?”
I groaned and closed my eyes tightly. I never packed food or drink. I always inventoried my equipment after a fight. Of course she’d watched me going through everything.
I sighed. “Okay… Okay. I’m... I’m a proper cyberpony. I’ve got more than a few systems. You probably won't ever see me eat or drink. I don’t need to do that very often.”
I looked into Wanders eyes for a moment then looked away, my tail drooping. “Just… Keep that to yourself, please. Most ponies get a little scared of me once they know what I am.”
Well, this was nice while it lasted. Back to being a pariah.
Wander pursed her lips for a moment then nodded. A odd look in her eyes made my fur stand on end. “I thought you might be. See, there’s another thing I noticed that I didn’t mention. I don’t need very much sleep. Less than most ghouls I know. You didn’t seem to sleep at all. I’d wake up and you’d be keeping the fire smouldering, fortifying our camp, more than enough to fill five hours.”
I stamped my hoof in frustration. “Ugh! Why am I so stupid?”
I turned around and sat down to hold my head in my hooves. “If a place as tolerant as Pomare shuns me, ponies here in the Heartland would probably shoot me on sight if they knew what I was! I should have been fake sleeping and eating, and… Everything!”
Wander trotted up to my left and sat down next to me. “Heh. It’s okay. We all make mistakes, and I understand the kind of fear that comes with being a little too different. I’m not even normal for a ghoul.”
“Because you still have fur?” I asked, hoping to move things away from me for a bit.
Wander shook her head. “Nah. I’m not the only ghoul with a full coat.”
I frowned and turned to look at Wander. This was the closest I’d been to her since we met. This close, you could easily tell she was a ghoul, rather than a sickly mare. Her skin was tight, and her fur thin. Thin enough for me to see that her hide was an unnatural shade of pink rather than the same as her fur, like it would be on a normal pony.
That, or she was blushing.
I squinted at her cheek. “What’s up with your skin?”
Wander turned towards me and looked me in the eyes while tipping her head down so I could see her mouth and the serious expression on her face. “Do you have any Canterlot Ghouls up north?”
I snorted and waved my hoof dismissively. “Pff! There’s no way you’re really a Canterlot Ghoul. You don't have bits of junk or parts of other ponies stuck all over you, and there’s no way your fur would have survived the cloud.”
Wander’s eyes widened. She hadn’t been expecting me to know about that. Ha!
“Okay, I didn’t figure anyone like me would have made it up there. Especially not if you think I’d die if I tried to hoof it.”
I paused for a moment, then slowly shook my head. “We have two. One of them is our Queen, Her Majesty Katydid. The other is Sassy Saddles, a unicorn tailor from Canterlot.”
Wander’s head snapped back in shock. “Woah! What? You’re ruled by a Canterlot Ghoul?! And she’s your queen? Not Princess, but Queen?”
I couldn’t help but find her shocked expression adorable. “Yes. Our changeling population refuses to call our leader anything else, so she decided to adopt it as her official title.”
Wander held up a hoof to indicate she needed a minute, stood up, paced back and forth for a minute and a half, then sat back down in front of me. “You… You have changelings?!”
I nodded, my lips turning down at the shock and hostility in her voice. “Yes. Is that a problem?”
“But— But they kill ponies! They suck out your love, and that kills you!” Wander protested. Her ears swiveled in alarm while her tail flicked upwards beneath her cloak. “I was there! I was at Princess Cadence’s wedding! I watched three ponies die from that!”
I sighed and rolled my eyes. I guess that the common pony hadn’t known about the alliance back then, but I knew the story well. Her Majesty liked to tell it at formal events when things got slow as a way to ensure everypony kept living in harmony with each other. Or when she’d been drinking.
Zebra spies and assassins with their invisible cloaks forced Equestria to harden its internal security basically every week. Meanwhile, ministry crackdowns on any pony showing ‘unusual behavior’ turned any pony simply forgetting to attend a business meeting into a possible spy, or a victim of wartime distress disorder, which was almost worse.
Queen Chrysalis couldn’t feed her changelings because they simply couldn’t reliably infiltrate wartime Equestrian society. The Changeling Empire would need to choose a side, or die.
Chrysalis chose Equestria over Zebrica, mostly to avoid having to shift her hive’s infrastructure across a continent. She approached the Lunar Throne one night in disguise to offer an alliance, and Princess Luna placed Princess Cadence in charge of the diplomatic negotiations.
Cadence didn’t like it, but over the course of a few months, she and Chrysalis came to terms with their personal grudges and hammered out the terms of an official military alliance.
A shame the Changeling Embassy was opening to the public the day the megaspells hit.
I’d heard about the Canterlot Invasion in more detail a few times from the older bugs who rarely left the Meganeuropsis, but they didn’t like to talk about Chrysalis’ rule. Our peoples were friends now. Dwelling on old wounds is what keeps them raw. Remember the cut, but let it heal. Don’t pick at it.
“Changelings don’t have to hurt you when they feed,” I explained as carefully as I could to be sure Wander understood. “They can take love by force, or take what you give them willingly. The first one hurts you, the second one feels nice and can help you live a little longer. Think of it like... A drug. Overdosing is dangerous, but in moderation it can be helpful.”
“It’s safe? Wait, it’s safe if they want it to be safe?” Wander asked skeptically. She pursed her lips for a moment then shook her head slowly. “I guess Chrysalis didn’t kill Prince Shining while feeding off of him for weeks. Okay, sure, I’ll believe you.”
I nodded in agreement. “Yes. We even have pony-ling couples, and couples that have brought a changeling in to form a trio. Nopony ever died prematurely from passive feeding… Um, but we have had a few murderers who killed a pony through forced love extraction, but every tribe has evil people in it.”
Wander slowly nodded and stared off into space for a few long moments. “I… I thought I was a good pony because I never held anything against the Zebras, just Caesar. Buck… I’m no better than anypony I looked down on, am I?”
I paused for a moment then shook my head. “No? I mean, if you didn’t know changelings don’t have to hurt you to survive then you weren't exactly being racist, you were being justifiably afraid. Besides, you seem like you’ve accepted the truth.”
Wander slowly shook her head. “Accepted… No. Trying to accept, yes. It will take a while to adjust. An ice cube populated by ghouls and friendly changelings lead by a Canterlot Ghoul with cyberpony mail mares… I thought I’d already been to the wildest places in the Wasteland already. I guess I know where Ponyville’s weirdness magnet ended up after the war!”
I raised an eyebrow at her turn of phrase. “Weirdness what now?”
Wander waved a hoof. “Skip it. What’s your queen like? Is she nice?”
I nodded eagerly. “Very nice! She can be a little scary, but she’s a nice pony at heart… Um, I mean hearts. Her Majesty wants nothing more than for everypony to live in the same safety and comfort we did before the war.”
Wander slowly shook her head and smiled a little. “I’m looking forward to seeing your kingdom… Who is the other ghoul again?”
“Our best unicorn tailor, Sassy Saddles,” I repeated with a smile of my own.
I was glad Wander was at least going to make an effort to change her mind about changelings. All of my best friends had been changelings. When their Queen isn’t a warmongering psychopath, they are really affectionate little bugs.
“And she is why I know you’re not a Canterlot Ghoul. Our Queen can shapeshift, and she is actually two mares stuck together—”
Wander winced. “OW! I’ve seen a few poor ponies like that. It always looks so painful.”
I shivered in agreement. “Totally. In her natural form, it looks like somepony was forced into a changeling costume too small for them. So you can still see parts of the pony under the costume.”
Wander blinked once, then twice, then her cheeks turned a bright pink. “Uuuuhhh, so… The only way I can think for them to have ended up layered like that, and not more like conjoined twins, is um… Really inappropriate.”
My cheeks flushed as I realized what she was implying. The funny thing was it was plausible, since they were a couple prior to their fusion.
Wander tapped her hooves together. “I don’t want to be rude, but, I really need to know how that happened. It’s one of those things that will keep me up at night. Like, more than I already am.”
I giggled. A lot of ponies thought Her Majesty's halves had been up to a little bedroom fun when the cloud changed them, mostly because that was what she told ponies who asked as a joke.
“No, they weren't having a romantic evening—”
Wander nodded. “Right. Because it was the morning.”
I gave her a little glare for that remark and continued. “One of them is a changeling. She thought she could shapechange into a hazard suit to save them both. They tried. It kind of worked. They lived,” I explained.
Wander shivered. “Ow… I’m so glad I wasn’t with anypony when I was wandering Canterlot… What about the other pony? What’s she stuck to that has you convinced that every one of us have to be a walking horror show?”
“Well,” I began rocking back on my haunches slightly. “She hasn’t ever told anyone how she made it to Pomare, and seeing as how she’s fuzed to a chaise lounge and a fold out sewing desk....”
Wander slowly stood up, only to pace back and forth for a moment then turn back to face me. “She’s… She’s stuck to one of those dumb fainting couches?!”
I put on my best serious face and nodded. “Yes. And a desk.”
“Can she move at all?” Wander asked while her eyes moved back and forth as her brain tried to search for a way Sassy could have gotten, well, anywhere at all.
I nodded. “Mhm. She can lift herself with her telekinesis and float short distances, but not enough to scale the mountains at the border.”
Wander sighed and turned to look back north the way we’d just walked. “This is going to bother the hay out of me… I’m going to have to go ask her how she did it or I’m going to go mad.”
“She’s pretty tight lipped about the first few years post-war. I doubt she’d tell you even if you were one of her uh, family,” I said as I stood back up.
Wander turned her head to look at me over her shoulder. “I wasn’t lying. I am a Canterlot Ghoul. I wasn’t turned on the Last Day, though. I… I had family in Canterlot. I wanted to know if they survived. I was turned a few months after the war.
“The cloud wasn’t quite bad enough to melt me, but I stayed in it for too long. I do have something fuzed to me. Fortunately I can hide it under my clothes. For the record, having clothes stuck to you forever is one of the more common things you’ll see on ghouls like me.”
“Oh,” I hadn’t thought about her clothing possibly being a part of her body. “What’s stuck on you, then?”
Wander took a short breath. “My Pipbuck.”
I grinned triumphantly. “HA! I knew your navigation was too good to not have one! How did you manage to check it every time I wasn’t looking?”
Wander snorted and waved a hoof at me. “Please! Like I still need to look at maps after centuries of traveling. I haven't used the navigation spell on this thing in… In…” She trailed off and pursed her lips in thought. “In a really long time. I can’t remember the last time I used my Pipbuck as anything other than a tape player. Or radio, I guess. Or to watch porn.”
“Can I see it?” I asked in as polite a tone I could.
“The porn?” Wander asked, raising an eyebrow.
Yes! “No!” I said. “The Pipbuck.”
Wander nodded slowly. Her horn lit up as she took off her right front boot and rolled up her jumpsuit’s sleeve just enough to show me a slightly battered, but clean, gray, black, and pink painted pipbuck which was most definitely melted into the flesh her foreleg in a way that left it as solidly attached to her as any of my integrated systems were to me.
I frowned and trotted up to Wander and dipped my head down in a half-bow. “I apologize for doubting you.”
“Nah,” Wander shook her head and rolled her sleeve back down to put her boot back on. “Ponies think I’m a balefire ghoul all the time. Or that it’s only my face that’s still this pretty.”
I cocked my head to the left. “Wait, you mean you have all of your fur? I know you’ve said so a few times, but I sort of didn’t believe you. It’s not as if I can see more than your eyes and some bangs.”
Wander nodded and flashed me a quick smile over her scarf. “I’m not the only ghoul with a full coat of fur, there’s a few others out there. From what I can tell, it’s a rad thing. We need them to live, but too much can still hurt us. As for the balefire itself… Well, from what we’ve figured out, the degree of how bucked up you got is directly proportional to how close you were to the bomb. Too close, dead. Close enough to be doused with all the rads? Skin falls off. Right where the rads start to dip? You get to look like a fresh corpse instead of a five week old one. Any further out than that, and you just got radiation sickness and died puking your organs out.”
My stomach churned at that lovely image. “Ew…”
Wander turned and pointed at my left eye and then the leg which has gotten shot earlier. “Speaking of looking good, how come you don't have holes where you got shot? If you have a stash of stimpacks I missed, I’d appreciate one if I ever take a plasma hit. It takes forever to get back up from plasma without some help.”
“I’ll remember that,” I promised, electing to not tell her my pelt was maintained by a modified healing talisman. “Anyways, to answer your earlier question, if we ever encounter somepony with anti-matrix grenades, please shoot them very quickly. That’s all you need to worry about regarding my cybernetics.”
Wander nodded and reached back to pat Bad Trip’s holster. “Don’t worry, I’ve got a very firm policy of killing anyone with explosives first.”
She turned around and looked across the plain to Two Bits. “We should get mov— Humm, it looks like there’s a caravan getting ready to go north,” Wander noted.
I turned around and squinted to try and see what she was talking about. The northern facing wall had a gate in it. The gate was closed earlier, but was opening now. I could see a few small colorful dots pushing five large carts out through the gate. Some of the carts were filled with stacks of baskets, others were loaded with barrels.
“What are they after? There’s nothing out here for days in any direction, right?” I said as I tried to think if we’d seen so much as an old cabin over the last day and a half of travel.
Nope. Nothing.
Wander pointed with her left hoof. “See all the barrels? They’re going to collect radioactive snow, rocks, ice, anything that still glows. Two Bits sells the rads they harvest to us ghouls further south. It’s how they can afford the nicer junk for building, and stay fed without tending any proper farms.”
I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the poor ghouls who had to live in a rad free world. In a way they had been given a gift, the ability to survive the hell we’d brought upon ourselves. Then, six random ponies with some special mojo or something had turned it into a curse.
Not that cleaning up a part of the wasteland was a bad thing over all. Just from that one perspective.
“Is that why you drank that bottle of water last night?” I said as I glanced sidelong at Wander.
Wander nodded and began to trot downhill with a determined stride. “Not water. Aqua Cura. These ponies make it. That bottle should keep me going for a week. Come on, we need to meet up with them and warn them that bandits are loose in the Wood of Woes.”
☢★★◯★★☢
The barrens surrounding Two Bits proved unsurprisingly easy to cross. The gravel crunching underhoof made me feel at home for the few short minutes we spent walking for the gate.
I expected to be challenged by the watch, like what would happen back home, but nopony did. We were able to go from the hill right down to the town’s wall. Strange, assuming the Enclave wasn’t lying to the Queen about the bandit problem.
Doubly strange, since the first ponies I’d run into here had been bandits.
I found myself admiring the wagons as we drew near them. They were all slightly different, but clearly built to the same plan. A sure sign they had been built by hoof, and by ponies who knew what they were doing. The wagons were not made from wood like I had thought at first. Their frames and wheels were only partially wooden, with most of the wagon being salvaged auto-wagon’s frame and axles, with parts of a chopped down shipping container used to make the bed and walls.
The auto-wagon frames were the most consistent things about them, seemingly all the same model. Somepony must have found an old factory and looted its production line to make some surprisingly robust caravan wagons.
The convoy circled up outside the gate to finalize their preparations. I thought they would have done that inside the town’s walls. There must not be enough room on the other side of the gate.
As we were approaching them I could tell by the very careful way the caravaners inspected their wagons that these were seasoned professionals. Each rope, chain, and cable used to hold barrels or baskets in place was carefully fixed to the wagon to avoid the loads shifting or banging around. A few ponies busily scrubbed hoofulls of sand against patches of rust to clean them up. Others inspected the wheels with some tools while winding chains around them for more traction on poor terrain.
Amateurs would have just hitched up the wagons and galloped away without any thought for their equipment. It felt good to know that Heartland ponies valued what they had. It would make for better trading partners.
It also meant that a lot of what the Enclave had been telling us had been lies. Maybe all of it. I’d have to report back about that as soon as I could.
I did my best to take careful note of the caravaners themselves. They were mostly earth ponies, with a pair of unicorns and a griffon, at least as far as I could see as we approached. I knew there had to be at least three more, because I could see cables being tightened by hooves on the opposite side of the wagons.
As we got close, I finally noticed that the majority of the caravaners were ghouls. At first I didn’t think twice about that, but then I remembered that Equestria was clean now. Of course most of the caravaners were ghouls. This town made money by selling life to ghouls, of course as many would flock here as possible.
Equestria was unintentionally pushing its ghoul citizens to the very edges of the nation. Literally marginalizing them. It was almost funny, in a dark way.
Each individual had their own unique set of gear. Nothing formal, everything hodgepodge. A light tan mare dressed in a simple rough-spun coat wearing a cowboy hat with saddlebags bulging to the point of overflowing with survival gear stood next to a bright pink unicorn stallion who wore a old motorcycle jacket with armor plates riveted to it. They were both inspecting the same wheel, and arguing over whether or not it needed more grease.
The entire debate hinged on how squeaky the squeaky wheel needed to be to get grease. Apparently they took old sayings a bit too seriously.
Every other member of the caravan had their own outfit as well. Each well worn, with an obvious story to tell. Especially the large mare with the cloak which had the distinct crackle-edged burn mark of a plasma strike splashed across her back.
Had she popped her cloak up on a stick to draw enemy fire? Had she been hit and survived? Either way, she was probably a proper badflank.
I liked seeing everypony dressed differently. In spite of how cold it can get in Pomare, most ponies go naked inside the shield. It’s nice to see colors aside from pastel when you look at a group of ponies.
What interested me more than the caravans’ resident badflank was the simple fact that everypony in the team was armed with a ballistic weapon, generally a shotgun or rifle. Where were they getting their ammunition? While it’s not difficult to make bullets, you do need a few different ingredients. Most importantly, you needed a functional lead mine.
They couldn't be using pre-war bullets. At least, not many. Bullets have a shelf life, and even packed away in dry conditions they wouldn’t last forever.
There’s no way enough solder-sealed spam cans of ammo had been left in climate controlled storage houses on old military bases to supply the whole Heartland for two centuries.
I made a mental note to add their ability to manufacture ammunition to my report.
Wander looked around almost as much as I did, hemming and hawing as if searching for something. I followed her gaze and realized she was looking at ponies for a brief moment before looking away. Maybe she knew the caravan? As a traveling performer it would make sense for her to have stayed in town for a while before moving north, and she would have talked to any caravan parked in town too.
Wander lead me around to the other side of the wagon and looked to her right, checking for whoever she was looking for. I decided to turn left to get a better look at Two Bits’ gates and immediately gasped.
I was staring at the barrel of a dark blue alicorn! She was tall, at least as tall as Queen Katydid. I could tell her mane and tail were the same dark blue as her coat, but she’d either dyed or painted them a shimmering silver. It was probably paint, seeing as the simple metal breastplate she wore as armor was the same silver, but I wasn't about to question a goddess’ fashion sense!
Doing my best to make a fool of myself as shock coursed through every last fiber and bolt of my being I hastily scrambled backwards and bowed as low as I could.
“My apologies for nearly running into you, your highness,” I said as sincerely as I could.
I expected a polite dismissal of my concern, or a mild chastising for not watching where I was going. I didn’t expect her to say. “Huh… So that’s what reverence feels like. Hey, guys, get a load of this weirdo! How sincere is this? Scale of one to ten.”
A few ponies apparently looked and decided to chime in.
“Uh… A six?”
“I’d say seven.”
I heard Wander groan and facehoof before I looked up to see the alicorn looking down at me with a goofy expression stamped on her face.
“I can’t believe I forgot to warn you about alicorns,” Wander sighed.
I slowly stood up and tipped my head forwards slightly to try and hide my burning cheeks. “Uh, s— so… I take it you’re not the Pri— Um, in charge?”
She shook her head, a flattered smile forming on her muzzle. “Nope. I’m the second big gun they bring along.” She turned to look at Wander with a bemused expression. “Where’s this zeeb from that you need to explain alicorns to her?”
Wander answered with a dramatic flourish of her cloak as she gestured to the north. “The Crystal Empire!”
The alicorn turned to look at me, her eyes widening. “I’ve heard about the Empire! In a book, I think. How much radiation is left up there? Do you know the average levels?”
I nodded, my cheeks still burning. Why wouldn’t the alicorn be in charge of the caravan? Was there a large family of them? So big they were the entire nobility? Was it decided by size? Was there an even larger alicorn in charge of the caravan itself, with a bigger one ruling over the town?
“Lith’s average level is around sixteen nanosieverts,” I said awkwardly as I flashed Wander a desperate look.
Hopefully she would understand that I would like to be taken away from the awkward situation as soon as possible.
“Lith being... Your town?” the alicorn asked with a curious head tilt.
“No, Ma’am, it’s our kingdom,” I said as I gave Wander a more obvious look. “C— Could you please explain her not being a noble to me?” I asked in a strained whisper.
Wander nodded and cleared her throat. “Well, for starters, the New Canterlot Republic, which you’re in right now, is a representative democracy. It doesn't have a nobility. More importantly, alicorns are just another tribe here. There’s a few thousand of them.”
A. Few. Thousand?
If they are a tribe, then they must have a tribal leader. … It's the tallest one isn’t it? Celestia, this mare is tall!
I felt myself lock up for a moment as I tried to process the fact that there were thousands of alicorns running around in the Heartland.
“I— But— How—” I stammered awkwardly, taking a step back since I didn’t know what to do.
The alicorn bent her neck down to look me in the eyes. “She really can’t be from around here, can she? Short version, a long time ago, Twilight Sparkle was working on a way to make artificial alicorns to win the war. She was testing her potion at a place called Mariponi on The Last Day. A… Creature called the Goddess discovered that if a pony was dipped into the vats of potion they would mutate into, well, us.
“The potion is all gone now, but we’re not. We’ve even got a few hundred foals, and counting.”
She turned to look at Wander and fluttered her wings slightly. “You made it sound like there's more of us than there really are. Last I heard we reached two thousand last year.”
I shook my head before anypony could say anything more. “No!” I exclaimed in shock. “That’s not what I meant! If there’s two thousand of you, how come nopony is controlling the sun?”
The alicorn blinked. “Because we’re nowhere near as powerful as natural alicorns. Also, that was—”
“Their special talents, I know,” I said with a nod. Even though I just learned the stories were true five minutes ago. “But talents are not completely unique! I know dozens of ponies with a talent for carpentry. With thousands of you, somepony should be able to control the sun or moon.”
The blue alicorn turned to the left slightly so I could see her left flank. Her cutiemark took the shape of a double barreled shotgun with two smoking barrels. Nothing fancy, nothing elaborate. A normal pony’s mark.
“We don’t get those kinds of talents,” she said politely, though I could hear some hurt and annoyance in her voice. “We may have been named alicorns by the Goddess, but it’s better to think of us as tall winged unicorns. I wouldn’t approach a true alicorn unless I had a big pool of rads to bathe in for a long while.”
“Oh,” I said, my lips pulling into a sharp frown. “Sorry… I— You do look like an alicorn, and… Yeah.”
She nodded. “Yes. That’s why very few of us object to the name,” she looked over at Wander. “I take it you ran into her and decided to lead her here before heading north?”
Wander nodded. “Yeah. Don’t worry, I’ll fill her in better. Where’s your boss? Actually, forget it. I’ll just tell you. The two of us ran into some of those uniformed bandits. You’ll want to watch out if you’re headed as far as the Woods of Woe.”
The alicorn nodded. “Thanks, I’ll keep an eye out. Good luck going north,” she said to Wander before turning back to me with a smile. “You should probably give her a smack or two for not warning you about us. Thanks for the bow, though. That made my day.”
I flashed her the third most embarrassed grin of my life. “Heh.. heh… Glad you liked it.”
Wander nodded towards the gates. “Come on, the mayor’s office isn’t far. You said you have to deliver as many of those letters as possible, right? Might as well drop one of them off here.”
I nodded and began to walk towards the gates to put distance between myself and my embarrassment. “Yes. That’s a good plan.”
Wander quickly made her way to my side and cleared her throat quietly. “Sorry. I’m so used to them I didn’t even think to tell you. Why did you bow? Did you think she was Princess Luna? Their coats would have been similar.”
I blushed again and shook my head. “Queen Katydid’s inside half is an alicorn. I’m used to them being in charge.”
Wander nodded and took a few steps towards the town’s large rusty iron gates. “That makes se—”
The ghoul froze mid step, as if somepony had paused her.
“Are you okay?” I asked as I stepped forward to try and see if she’d somehow hurt herself.
Wander wheeled around, making her cloak billow. She took my shoulders in her hooves and pulled me right into her face. “Your queen’s pre-war. A ghoul, and one of her two parts is an alicorn mare?!”
I nodded. “Yes… Please let go.”
Wander’s grip tightened. “No! You don’t get it. The only alicorns aside from the Goddess’ children were the Royal Sisters, and Cadence! Who's apparently alive! Do you have any idea how pissed off I am?! She’s been sitting up there when she could have flown down here and solved thousands of major problems in a matter of days!”
Oh. I see. Yes, that would certainly seem to be the case.
I shook my head. “Her Majesty isn’t Cadence.”
Wander’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t see who else she could be.”
“Flurry Heart,” I answered with a deadpan stare into Wander’s red eyes.
“Who?” Wander asked frowning for a moment before her eye lit up and the color drained from her face, which somehow left her more pink instead of less.
She let go of my shoulders and stepped back. “That’s right, she had a foal… How come Celestia and Luna never had kids? That’s— That’s just weird now that I think about—”
She wheeled back around to face me. “Wait a damn minute, that doesn’t make it LESS bad that she isn’t here helping us!”
True. But she did have a very good reason for staying under Pomare’s Climate Shield.
“Her Majesty is a really bright beacon for spirits, thanks to her control over storms. The Windigos want her dead,” I said as calmly as I could with an angry regenerating ghoul in my face. “If she left Pomare’s shield, she would draw every windigo in the whole of Lith to her, and they would win that battle. She’s almost died trying to escape several times. Her Majesty is… Besieged.”
Wander took a deep breath, grit her teeth, turned around and punched a stone in the ground hard enough to split both it and her hoof.
Wander growled through her clenched teeth against the pain, then ignored her hoof as it slowly knit itself back together. “There’s a natural alicorn, but she’s stuck in a hole too far from anything to help. Buck the wasteland! ARRRGH!”
I decided it was best not to mention that she could have left any time in the last thirty years. That’s how long we’d had airships capable of flying above the windigo’s flight ceiling for. It’s just that Her Majesty hadn’t known there was anywhere to go where windigos were not present until the Enclave had shown up at her door. After all, if she went to visit any of her townships in person, she’d be swarmed the minute the airship started to land.
Or that the changeling half of Her Majesty was a changeling Princess. Technically speaking, Queen Katydid had the power of two alicorns. At least, if her changeling half had a good meal first, and Her Majesty had her “us” time.
The fact that she couldn’t fight a storm of Windigo without almost certain death made me incredibly happy they didn’t bother me. I could take one. Just one. They always traveled in packs.
“Well, she’s trying to help you now,” I reminded as I gently set my hoof on Wander’s shoulder. “That’s why I’m here.”
Wander nodded and took a moment to stand in place and breathe. “I— I’m sorry… It’s just… I’ve— There’s so much crap that’s happened and— Ugh… Buck me.”
She sighed and kept heading through the gate without another word. Worried I’d upset her, I decided it was best to follow in silence.
Wander led me through the slightly crooked gates into Two Bits. As I expected, the other side of the gate had a security guard’s checkpoint, and then the town started right after that. The old prison yard was packed entirely full of homes, shops, narrow alleyways, and streets lined with market stalls.
The caravaners had been lucky to get their wagons into the town at all.
The shantytown inside the prison yard reminded me a little of Pomare. Every house was a little different, but each had a yard, were solidly built, and there were ponies busily walking through the streets or hanging out in their yards.
I also liked how their yards were dirt instead of gravel. Dirt wasn’t precious here. They would definitely have food to trade!
It wasn't till we were nearly in the middle of Town that I realized what was missing. Foals. I hadn’t seen a single colt or filly for the entire walk, and we’d been at it for nearly five minutes.
I started to try and specifically spot signs of them, but we’d left the residential area behind and were now in the middle of a market. I didn’t think that a market would be a no-foals zone until I saw a few open kiosks selling guns, ammo, and other weapons. A few carts were selling what smelled like alcoholic beverages, as well as a rather large scrap-wood building with a sign calling it “The Last Watering Hole”, filled out the market square.
Perhaps this was the adult area of the town.
That being said, I swore I should have seen a trio of adventurous fillies ninjaing off with a bottle of booze while the shopkeeper was busy. And yet…
I cleared my throat to try and get Wander’s attention. “Why aren't there any foals here?”
Wander didn’t answer for a few seconds. “There aren’t many, it’s a little dangerous to have a family this far out in the wilderness… Also, it’s a school day.”
She still sounded upset. I wasn’t going to press the issue, though I was happy to hear that they had compulsory formal schooling here.
Wander stopped walking and pointed to one of the few semi-intact pre-war buildings. The large sign above its doors must have once read ‘warden’s office’, but the letters had been removed, leaving only the less weathered patch of concrete behind to reveal the original sign. The words ‘Two Bit Town Hall’ had been painted where the old lettering had been in bright yellow letters.
I couldn’t help but notice the sign maker misspelled the town’s name… Possibly as a joke, given how shabby the pre-war building was compared to the care given to the town’s newer structures.
Most of the town hall’s windows were boarded up. The outer layers of concrete were crumbling, to the point where whatever architectural flourishes had been added to the building before the war were long gone. A few flecks of paint showed it had once been bright green, now it was depressed-pony-gray.
All that remained was a squat, ugly, dilapidated concrete box with a door and a few cracked windows which almost seemed to plead for the mercy of demolition charges.
My heart went out to the poor building. It needed a lot of hard work, or a lot of hard wrecking.
“That’s where the mayor will be,” Wander said dispassionately. “I heard he’s a pain-in-the-plot. I’ll be playing in the main yard. Get a few caps for our journey while you drop off your package.”
I nodded and then paused. This was the first formal contact between our nations. I had been traveling for days. I was definitely a little dirty. A bath would not be amiss.
I turned to Wander as she started to trot back towards the market. “Wait. Is there somewhere I could take a bath first? I’d like to look nice.”
Wander snorted and shook her head. “What does this look like? A Stable?”
“So, no?” I asked, my tail drooping as I worried about looking like a grungy hobo who nopony could take seriously in front of the mayor
“Nope. Good luck,” Wander wished before vanishing into the crowd.
I took a deep breath to try and push away the feelings of anxiety that were creeping up on me.
Well… I guess the only thing to do is hope my formal courior’s uniform is enough to appear professional.
I opened my saddle bags and took out my uniform. I never wore it while traveling because of how hard it was to scrub silt and ash out of linen. Technically a Royal Courier was supposed to always wear the robe while on duty, but nopony ever walked my routes with me, so I only put it on when finishing the delivery.
I put the robe on, and immediately felt three times less comfortable. The thick red and gold linen robe was warm enough in the northern wasteland. Here, in this freakishly hot place, it was almost suffocating. Pushing the temptation to just skip wearing the robe for this delivery away, I tucked the uniform in under my saddlebags and buttoned the front up.
I was going to look as nice as I could, and clothes do make the mare. After running my hoof through my mane to try and will it into being as straight as possible, I walked up to the town hall and pushed open the heavy wood and sheet metal door.
The first thing I noticed was that the inside wasn’t as badly deteriorated as the outside. The lobby I found myself in was furnished, the walls were whitewashed, and some rather fancy looking wall sconces held brightly glowing orbs of magic which shed a soft white light across everything in the room.
The second thing I noticed was the receptionist’s desk at the center of the far wall, right across from the doors, and the alicorn mare sitting behind it.
She had green fur, and her mane was dyed red, with a blueish stripe running through it in a way which made me wonder if she was trying to copy a natural mane’s style and color.
Who would use something as rare as dye for that? She might as well have stuck with her original mane colors.
A quick look around the lobby revealed nopony else waiting on the benches which lined the walls, so I trotted up to the desk just in time for the alicorn to greet me with a polite nod and smile.
“Good afternoon, I’m the mayor’s secretary, Life Beat. How may I help you?” She asked in a voice which was eerily pleasant to listen too. Almost hypnotic.
That had to be magic of some kind. I took a moment to try and see if any strange urges or feelings were poking at my mind. It wouldn’t be the first time a government official had their secretary enchanted to try and influence their visitors.
I didn’t feel like I couldn’t attack anypony, or like I should be extra extra nice to the next pony I met… I guess Life Beat just had an odd voice.
I returned her smile. “Good afternoon. I’m an official courier from Lith, a kingdom to the north. I am here to deliver a package on the behalf of her majesty, Queen Katydid.”
Life’s polite smile slowly turned into a frown while her eyes seemed to glare at me. “Mhm… Miss, town halls are not the place for pranks. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
I frowned back and shook my head. “I’m not joking, miss. Her Majesty only recently learned the lands south of the Crystal Empire are still inhabited, and sent me to deliver letters to your towns so our nations can make formal contact.”
I reached into my courier's bag and retrieved one of the letters, turning it so the wax seal pressed into the envelope faced Life Beat. “This sealed letter is for the mayor, and I have a package for him as well.”
Life’s disapproving frown vanished, replaced by curiosity and caution. “I’ll need to inspect the package before you can deliver it. May I have it?”
I nodded slowly. I understood security checks well enough, and it should be okay to let her inspect it as long as I kept an eye on her and made sure she didn’t break anything. “Of course,” I said as I opened the hardcase inside my bag and took one of the radios out.
As soon as I set the radio on Life’s desk, her wings flared open.
The legends were true! My eyes widened with joy I had to swiftly tamp down. Pegasi really did do that when they got excited! Or at least, alicorns did. So adorable!
Life Beat picked the radio up in her magic and carefully turned it this way and that, inspecting the hoofset, the speaker, and the dials. After a moment she set it down on her desk and looked up at me. She had a somewhat excited look in her eyes, though it was tempered by a still somewhat weary frown.
“This is a very nice looking radio… Is the letter instructions on how to use it?” She asked.
“Yes, ma’am. Her Majesty wishes to speak directly to everypony she can. The distance between our nations would make written correspondence quite difficult.”
I hated using formal speech… I also hated having to make up words to put in Her Majesty's mouth, but I was authorized to speak for her as a part of this mission, and if she had thought letters would be a viable means of communicating she wouldn’t have sent me with a box of radios.
I wasn’t really lying for her. I was just saying what she would have probably said If I had asked ‘why radios?’.
Life picked up the radio one more time and squinted through the cooling vents on the side, trying to see what was inside. I was tempted to offer to open it for her, since I knew her magic’s aura would make seeing through the slits hard while she was floating it, but before I could she held it all the way on the other side of the room like she was expecting it to explode, then switched it on.
The gentle hiss of radio static filled the air. Life nodded to herself, seemingly in satisfied with the lack of boom, then tuned the dial.
I couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “Excuse me, do you have a local radio station? I didn’t notice a tower.”
“Yes, we do,” LIfe said as she continued to twist the dial.
Then, suddenly, the radio crackled and a stallion’s voice came from the speaker, it was faint and interspersed with static, we were definitely at the very edge of the transmission’s range, but it was coming through.
“— ith the wasteland classic, Lonesome Road. Don’t worry if you missed part of it, children! We’ll play her again tomorrow at four. But now, the news… Those rainbow branded thugs in old infantry gear have started to pop up on the Herd’s side of the river, and they're up to the same old tricks over there too. Looks like everypony who bet on them being mercs for the Herd have to pay up. Well, that or they decided to not pay their muscle.
“Either way, watch yourself if you’re traveling down any of the old highways. Brands aren't everywhere, but as the last few months have proven, they can be anywhere.
“In happier news, Stable 88 finally decided to start talking over its intercom. Yep! That’s right. There’s ponies alive in there. From the sound of things they have problems trusting outsiders. Can’t say I blame them for that, seeing as the last time they opened their door was when raiders came calling.
“On the off chance somepony down there has a radio turned to DJ Pon3, that’s yours truly, President Regina Grimfeathers would like me to let the good ponies of 88 know that none of our diplomats are armed. They are there to say hello, make sure you’re all okay, let you know that we’re rebuilding Equestria now, and maybe trade a few things. If you want us to leave, just say so and—”
Life turned off the radio and gave me a satisfied smile. “Well, I don’t think anypony would carry around a working radio for the sake of a joke. I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt. Please have a seat while I see if the mayor can see you.”
I picked the radio up and placed it back in my courier's bag along with the letter. “Thank you very much.”
“I’ll be right back,” Life promised as she stood up.
I gasped quietly as she stood. She was a little taller than the other alicorn! My hypothesis just might be correct.
Life trotted to a door on the left side of the room and vanished into the depths of the old building, ducking her horn under the doorway.
I took a seat on one of the benches and waited.
I had a surprisingly long time to wait. I was sitting for at least ten minutes before Life Beat came back through the door. Her ears were flicked slightly back, a sign of irritation in anypony, and her braid was no longer resting on her shoulder, but hanging freely from the back of her head.
Life ignored me for a moment, took a seat at her desk, removed a small flask from a drawer, and dumped nearly four shots of a dark, potent smelling drink straight down her throat. Then, as if she hadn’t just tossed back enough booze for the average pony to get decently salted, she slammed the flask down on her desk and groaned.
“I need a liter of Wild Pegasus back on the weekly budget… I go through too much of it to keep paying for it myself,” she mumbled.
I stared in awe at her display of sheer drinking prowess, not sure what I should do. After a moment the poor mare looked up at me with weary eyes and said. “He’s… In a mood. He’ll see you now. Take the door on the left, then the third on the right…. Please don’t tell him I’m drinking on the job… Trust me, after you’re done you’ll wish I didn’t just run out.”
I winced. Their lord mayor couldn’t be that bad, could he? His job was diplomacy and negotiation. Right?
After a moment to quickly steel myself, I walked through the door into the hallway, and without looking around I walked up to the third door on the right and knocked on the remarkably intact hoof carved dark oak as gently as I could.
“If my door has a ding on it I’ll have you shot!” An old, wheezing, nasally stallions’ voice screamed from the other side of the door.
Celestia help me… Alcohol doesn't affect me and I already feel a mighty need to down a bottle of tequila.