Melada 17th Darkness, 1008ALB
Simply gallivanting off into the hinterlands in search of an army base to perform a surprise inspection of, while doubtless useful to confirming the unfiltered state of affairs, was not on the table for me however. In spite of what foals' stories might have one believe, the lives rulers of functional countries lead are an endless stream of paperwork, meetings and events to attend or preside over, much of which are difficult to cancel or postpone without causing major upset within the delicate political web of the country. Goodness knows how Tia had stayed sane with her even busier schedule.
Overwork might excuse how she had allowed things to slip so far, if the Report was to be believed. Not to speak ill of my sister, but being perpetually buried with genuinely and immediately vital work does wonders for justifying procrastination over the most detested aspect of one's vocation, the one that might bring the temptation of the easy path which Tia had refused every single time if any other option lay open to her.
Fortunately, my aforementioned schedule already contained an engagement to oversee the opening of a new Marine Sciences wing at Albion University, which placed me within a short train ride and a final teleport leg of Somland Sea Fort, the headquarters of the 18th Brigade. Minor alterations to return travel plans would have to be made, but after the Thestral campaign, I trusted my staff to not only deal with it, but to do so quietly.
My sudden evening arrival on the shore of the island went without fanfare or indeed, any significant activity, unless one counts sending a few sleepy seals lumbering toward the ocean's embrace. A small harbour town lay on the far side of the island, but from where I stood within sight of the mainland, the only sign of habitation were the squat, sloping walls of the fort and the southward-facing coastal battery it hosted. The black serpent colours of the 18th fluttered from a pole atop the nearest bastion, carried high by the stiff sea breeze.
Not wishing to set off any wards meant to prevent fliers from making an easy escalade of those walls, I instead cantered up the trampled track from the beach with my two bodyguards, circling around to the fort's main gates. A sentry's cry would have been carried away on the wind, but still there was no visual sign of activity either, even to my dark-accustomed eyes.
Growing suspicious, I refreshed my memory of a number of useful spells as we made the final approach to the open gates.
As we entered however, the only assault we faced was launched upon our ears by what sounded like a pile of collapsing armour making a spirited, yet hopelessly tuneless, attempt at the national anthem.
Inside the fort's main courtyard, several hundred Ponies were arrayed in what could be charitably be called ranks. Strangely, barely any of them were in uniform, with the vast majority dressed in a hodge podge of everything from simple scarfs against the cold to the sort of gear often associated with arctic explorers.
"Regiment, attention!" The castellan in charge bellowed once my carefully measured pace had brought me out from under the wall.
Of the two other soldiers present, one snapped into a straight posture and the other, encumbered by wearing half a brass band, clattered messily and became marginally less obscured as she continued to attempt to play.
Nodding with apparent satisfaction as the anthem mercifully wound down, the castellan turned and marched smartly up to me, stopped and rigidly saluted. "Welcome to the Somland Isles, your Majesty. The regiment is awaiting your inspection."
My eyes darted toward the two young, hopeful looking Unicorn mares, then back to their officer, noticing the strong family resemblance. Mother and daughters most likely.
The space in which I could respond without seeming rude almost exhausted, I trepidatiously tapped the front of my barrel with my right forehoof. "The pleasure is mine castellan, I am sure. May I ask, how did you become aware of my visit?"
She looked surprised at the question, but nodded toward a long but otherwise nondescript building hugging the wall to my far left. "Your messenger met with Dame Black Bristle this morning. Sorry she's not here now ma'am, didn't think it'd be a good idea to have her out here with that cold she's got. They're both in the barracks right now with Cook, if you want to speak with them."
"Thank you..." I prompted, wondering who had leaked.
"Lady Castellan Forlorn Hope, ma'am." The yellow Unicorn replied. "Acting commander of the 18th."
"Acting commander?" I asked.
"We're the only active regiment of the 18th right now ma'am, so I suppose GHQ didn't see a need to officially bump me up after Countess Captain-General Spring Steel retired." She explained.
I nodded, somewhat concerned that she had to speculate on the matter. "Do lead on then, castellan."
She turned. "Regiment, prepare arms!"
The single armed soldier reared, then twisted her left foreleg so that the rifle resting in its crook could be caught by the right forehoof.
Fully aware of the mirthful eyes of my bodyguards on me, I walked up to her and looked over her uniform, then the weapon. Even rearing, she was hardly taller than me. "Splendid. This is a Lilia, correct?"
"Yes ma'am." She said without so much as a twitch.
Modern enough to be serviceable, at least they had that going for them.
Nodding, I moved on to the bandmare, who gained a rather constipated look when she realised my attention was upon her. "A most inventive arrangement."
The relaxation of the young Unicorn's tension was betrayed by a horn squeaking as I turned back to the castellan.
"A fine... Unit." I said diplomatically. "Might I ask where the rest of them are?"
"Like I said ma'am, Cook's in the barracks." The officer said. "The cold sets off his rheumatics dreadfully."
I ruffled my wings, a response in equal parts to her and the wind. "Allow me to rephrase. Where is the rest of your regiment? I am led to believe such a formation normally comprises over a thousand mares."
"You'd be right ma'am, usually. We're a mite understaffed right now, but let me assure you that the soldiers under my command are the finest this side of Albion." Forlorn Hope said with the sort of pride only a mother can muster.
For my part, I could not help but wonder if that said more about her 'regiment', or of others along the Stalliongrad border.
"How do you watch the walls?" I said aloud.
"With difficulty, ma'am." She said. "We make do."
"I see." I lied to get the blasted conversation over with.
"Would you like to inspect the support staff?" The castellan asked, nodding over toward the mob of civilians.
"I am sure they have more pressing duties to attend to." I said. "As unfortunately do I. I will be in the barracks."
As Forlorn Hope busied herself, I went about addressing the plumbing.
The interior of the barracks was not in poor repair as I had feared it might be, or even dirty, but it felt like nothing so much as a museum as my hoofsteps and those of my guards echoed down the silent central corridor. What most stuck in my memory was a notice board I passed, still holding a yellowing newspaper clipping dating back over twenty years.
Eventually, muffled voices drifted from a nearby doorway and I followed them.
"-too many spices, don't you agree? Cook thinks they're driving all the local herb growers out of business, and it doesn't even taste good." A cracked voice said.
Entering, I saw a young Unicorn mare in a smock resting on one of the beds in the room, apparently trying to sleep. Her efforts were being contested however, by a wizened old Diamond Dog sporting a beard that almost reached the floor and a rather well-tailored but stained old uniform with a sergeant's braid. Buff Envelope, of all mares, lay on a mat across the room with a resigned look on her face.
Her expression swiftly changed to perhaps misguided relief when she spotted me, however. "Oh thank the Ancestors. Your Majesty."
"And don't get Cook started on saffron." The Diamond Dog continued to ramble. "Cook thinks it's-"
Envelope rose and nudged the fellow toward the door. "While it has been a pleasure, I'm sure her Majesty has confidential matters to discuss. So would you be so kind...?"
The elderly Dog shuffled around and saw me in spite of the bushes that shaded his deeply sunken eyes. Said brows shifted in a manner that suggested surprise. "Hurmph? Err... Princess. Yes. If it's all right?"
I gave a small nod. "You may go."
As soon as the door had closed behind the Dog, I turned back to Miss Envelope. "You needn't have been so abrupt."
The civil servant sighed. "Much as his lectures on the topic suggest he is a fine gastronomic facilitator ma'am, over the past three hours I have thoroughly investigated and demonstrated a theory that Sergeant Cook couldn't spot a subtle hint if it dressed itself as a Harpy and danced the tango to the tune of 'Pay Heed All Ye Who Wander Here', complete with Borean choir."
"Never mind that." I cut in. "Miss Envelope, what are you doing here?"
"Checking in on Dame Bristle, ma'am." She replied.
"And I suppose it was just happy accident that you happened to turn up just ahead of me, in time to arrange a parade." I remarked.
She shook her head. "Oh no, ma'am! I was merely fulfilling the requirements for your safety laid out in the royal security arrangements. The base's staff had to be placed on alert, wards checked and so forth. The preparations have to be overseen by a senior member of the War Office and with all the hee-haw going on thanks to the rumours and your sister's enquiries, I could not possibly delegate."
"It does rather spoil the point of a surprise inspection." I said.
"Such is the price of keeping the royal body safe, ma'am." Envelope said, faux-regretfully. "Besides, I'm sure you can learn all you came to know from their best-"
Envelope was interrupted by a hacking, phlegmatic cough. "'Orry..."
"Oh, how remiss of me!" Buff Envelope exclaimed. "Ma'am, this is Dame Black Bristle, administrative overseer for the Albion region. She can fill in the details of operations here far better than I can."
I looked the stricken mare over. "Are you sure you are up to it, Dame Bristle? Not to put too fine a point on it, you look like death warmed up."
"Ne'er bedder mham..." The minor noble replied, hauling herself upright.
I gave her a sidelong glance, but she was an adult. "Miss Envelope, I feel I ought to reiterate. I found a formal parade awaiting my arrival, including the civilian staff. The aspect of 'surprise' has not been so much lost as charted in painstaking detail and included in the latest publication of every school geography textbook."
She smiled. "Then you have already seen what a splendid recovery is underway."
"'Splendid recovery'?" I spluttered. "Close to extinction, more like."
"Oh, quite the opposite ma'am!" Envelope protested. "The 18th Brigade was the responsibility of the Boyars of Severyana before the revolution, but since no such authority exists any more, command fell directly to the crown and therefore, the War Office. They suffered terrible losses during the revolution, desertion mostly, but thanks to a brisk recovery effort, we expect them to be back up to strength by... Do jog my memory."
"Hen Hurteen." Black Bristle answered.
"This is merely one of the regiments yet to be reached then." I suggested. "The others are in training?"
"Oh no ma'am, the deployment phase is two years away at least, but we are standing in the beating heart of the project!" Buff Envelope proudly declared, against all apparent sense. "It's taken years to recruit and train all the proper staff to get this far, but thanks to Dame Bristle, progress has exceeded expectations by at least twenty percent."
Black Bristle nodded agreement before coughing mightily, prompting mild relief to overtake abashedness on her face.
I frowned. "If this paper mill is all that has been achieved in twelve years, then I say to continue to pour effort into this farce of a brigade is folly. Disband it and use the resources saved to reinforce other units."
Both mares' ears flicked back with shock. "Ma'am!"
"When we can afford it, we can reinstate the 18th - with an actual fighting contingent." I continued.
"Ma'am, if you do that then the entire eastern flank of the border could be left in chaos for moons if not years." Envelope protested.
"Whatever do you mean?" I queried.
"There are a large number of extremely busy departments based out of Somland, ma'am." She explained. "For a start, there's the contingency department of course, for riots, wild weather, monster attacks, epidemics, floods or forest fires... In such a crisis, the military plays a key role in damage mitigation and coordination of relief, and there simply aren't any units we could move in to replace the 18th."
"Then ere's the emogra- demographics department." Black Bristle picked up carefully, dabbing at her muzzle with a hoofkerchief. "Terribly sorry. They're conducting a full survey of Albion - the region, that is - right now so we can draw up ossible recruitment figures and build a plan for how best to advertise to and train prospective candidates. Ich brings us to the building department, who are currently planning the new Lesnoy Training Facility to replace the old one outside Petershoof, which should be underway in oo- two years ime. All hat in cooperation with the finance department; dealing with cash flow budgets and accounting... Hen there's the purchasing department to procure equipment, forecasting usage and contacting suppliers-"
"What, pray tell, are they purchasing for an empty field?" I cut in, partly in the quiet hope Buff Envelope would intervene and spare the clearly struggling mare from embarrassment.
Thankfully, she did, gesturing down the long, terribly bland room and its many beds. "Everything, ma'am. From tanks to toiletries, and not just for the building site. The entire north-eastern sector would grind to a halt without them. And they'd not be able to do their jobs here without the maintenance department of course. Normally that means cleaning, catering-"
"Wat Sergeant Cook oesn't oo - we budget around him ese days." Bristle put in.
"Thank you, overseer." Envelope said. "There's also a technical subdivision for making sure everything purchasing buys stays working. And for the welfare of the staff there's the equine resources department for managing leave, insurance, distributing salaries, as well as workplace disputes and the like. And finally, administration, the glue that holds it all together, liaising between departments and typing everything up."
By the time the cheerful conclusion arrived, I was rubbing my face against an upturned hoof, just to make sure I was not dreaming. I understood the complexities of running the palace, or logistics on campaign, but we never used to have insurance, formalised cash flow forecasts or administrators for other administrators back in the day. At least other than myself and my sister for the latter, I suppose.
"You see ma'am, this is all critical work to the functioning of the nation's defences." Buff Envelope cheerfully concluded.
I raised my head again and laughed despairingly. "Perhaps, but there is one key component missing!"
"What is, ma'am?" She asked, bemused.
"Miss Envelope, there are four soldiers!" I exclaimed, hardly able to believe that the Permanent Secretary to the War Office could miss such a thing. "That is what an army base is for! Soldiers. Mares-at-arms! Defending the nation!"
"But ma'am, all these vital tasks we just listed must be carried out with or without soldiers." She replied.
"Why?" I pressed.
She blinked. "I-I don't understand."
"I do not know how else We can vocalise it." I said. "Why?"
"Well erm, ma'am, ould you keep a school running in a ghost town?" Black Bristle suggested. "Or maybe edder in this case, would you build a school in the desert just in case somepony inds oil and settles a new town nearby?"
"That is completely different, the army must be ready to protect any part of the country at a moment's notice!" I countered.
"Oh Princess! We at the War Office don't measure our success by corpses but by activity, and the activity is considerable - and productive!" Envelope said. "These three hundred Ponies are terribly overworked. Of course they are, the full establishment will be almost twice that once recruitment begins in earnest. I'm sure Dame Bristle would be happy to release some of the paperwork coming out of the base to y-"
I banged a hoof against the floor. "No! No she will not! Enough is enough! Sack them!"
Buff Envelope shook her head vigorously. "Out of the question, ma'am! We need these administrators, otherwise there will never be a standing brigade and then where would we be? A security risk, chaos, looting even."
"Then sack the ancillary staff and do some cleaning yourselves." I said.
Envelope's expression turned almost mirthful. "Ma'am, the unions would have our guts for garters!"
I reconsidered and took a breath, she did have a point. "Very well then. Sack half the administrators, half the ancillary staff and use the money thus saved to recruit some soldiers and start actualising this paper brigade right now!"
Buff Envelope opened her mouth, but I raised a hoof warningly.
"I do believe that you yourself bemoaned that defence is seen as a joke, secretary. The domain of clowns even. If it is, then We intend to close the circus by the most immediate means at our disposal ere more suffering befalls." I said with finality, wings partially unfurling as I loomed. "I do not care one jot if there are delays in procuring equipment. Nor do I care if some unionists are upset. I dare say they will be even moreso when they are reduced to eating wild grass. Which is precisely what will happen if Altidya Revoltsova makes good on her threats to seize the remainder of Severyana and her brigands roll down from the north to create yet another famine with their insane land 'reforms'."
The civil servant tried again. "Ma'am-"
I didn't let her. "I know what you are going to say. Soldiers making a pretence of strength are better than a real and overt weakness, and more easily amended when the lack is merely material. If you can find a creative way to transfer the surplus staff elsewhere to spare their jobs without compromising the gathering of troops, I commend you, but there will be an increase in numbers and it will be in reasonable proportion to the savings made, until further funds can be assigned."
A glimmer of hope flashed through Envelope's eyes.
I stamped on it. "And if my position on what is 'reasonable' differs from yours upon reading the figures, secretary, then there shall be repercussions. Or for that matter, if I find those figures to have been, shall we say, presented in a conveniently attractive light."
Buff Envelope's posture was not cowed, but her tone was certainly guarded when she eventually broke her silence. "May I speak, ma'am?"
"You may." I said, refolding my wings.
"I agree there must be change, ma'am." She began carefully. "I will of course do everything in my power to carry out your instructions as efficiently as possible, but I cannot simply summon the funds to recruit soldiers out of thin air, let alone train them. The defence budget was assigned to the various brigades and departments at the start of the fiscal year and a great deal has already been spent on wages, equipment and so on. Not to mention that any staff laid off will still have to be given redundancy pay. The same is likely true of the territorial forces as well, and I have very little authority over their management."
I tapped a rear hoof for a moment, thinking. How much to say? And for that matter, what? The royal coffers were an option, but funding entire armies is expensive business even for a sovereign. The territorial forces were funded by the fiefdoms, rather than the crown itself for good reason. Then I had it. "You mentioned equipment. Much of that can surely be resold for profit, seeing how it is currently simply collecting dust."
"Oo would we sell to, mham?" Asked Black Bristle, rather more overtly nervously than Envelope had been. "Egging your pardon, but it's not ike we can just auction off field guns to the ublic."
My brain buzzed with ideas. Prince Rutherford would doubtless appreciate a new way to make big bangs, and envoys from President Kemerskai's government had been pestering Tia for weapons and recognition (in that order) only a few days ago. Not to mention the Olenians and Aquileians wanting a look at our tanks recently. Selling licenses and example models alone could raise a plentiful sum to fill the gap until proper funding could be arranged. Obviously supporting a renegade state would sour relations with the Imperial court in the case of Kemerskai, but middlegriffs could clean the books if it came to it. Further afield, there was the ongoing civil war in Saddle Arabia and it was just possible Aestlonia and Maretonia might have still been interested in buying some more deterrence to aim at Karkadannistan, assuming they had not found a buyer since Princess Zaida and Duke Kyrippos dropped those hints during the state visit at the last games.
"I am confident there are foreign powers who would be more than happy for a sample of our engineering..." I replied, inwardly feeling somewhat dirty at the thought of war profiteering.
"Of course meaning no disrespect ma'am, but are you sure we really want to be feeding instability in other countries right now?" Envelope asked. "There's a very good chance somecreature could get hurt!"
"That is rather the point of a weapon." I replied flatly, in contrast to my heart's view. "They are all adults and quite capable of weighing those risks for themselves."
"I suppose we could put a health warning on the barrels?" Black Bristle suggested.
Buff Envelope nodded slowly. "That should ensure they are properly informed, legally speaking..."
I ignored how moronic that sounded to stay focussed upon the issue at hoof. "Very good. Start evaluating the stocks and send a memorandum to the Foreign Office that Equestria is open for business."