So.
Those were the first four months, and change, of my First Ministership. One part education, one part decision-making… four or five parts fuck-ups. Among a couple of some other things, of course, but that was the gist of it.
For once, I’d felt that the nice sunrise I was drinking a coffee to was rather appropriate for the moment. Celestia might have been the goddess of the sun, but as a poet I reckoned I had first dibs on tortuously crowbarred-in pretentious metaphors about new dawns. Like that one I’d used in the speech that kicked off this whole shitshow, come to think of it.
I’d had some time to come to grips with things. Yet again, I was rescued from spiralling into myself with guilt and grief by another person. First Lyra, now Celestia. I suppose Blueblood helped out, too. Maybe there was something to be said for the whole ‘friendship’ thing. Regardless, I’d said everything I needed to say, Celestia had said what she wanted to say, and Blueblood had torn me an incredibly necessary new one. I knew what I’d done, what I could have done, what I should have done. Too late for it all now. All I could do was look forward.
Which was what I was doing, actually, though unsuccessfully – the glare of the sun was making it pretty difficult to see through my window, particularly with how greasy my glasses were.
Finally, after so goddamn long, life was finally returning to the streets of the Free State. Even at this early hour, I saw two ponies walking around outside, side-by-side, doing something or another. I could hardly even recall the last time I’d seen any pony wandering the streets in the last four or so weeks, other than Construct’s lot. Some irony was to be had there, as I saw it, considering the leaves were turning yellow and dropping off – life preparing to slumber beneath the sheets of snow of the upcoming winter.
I sighed. Well. That’ll be a few things to take note of, huh? Straight-away back to State business – winter was going to be a good chunk of time we wouldn’t be able to grow food. It’d be a good chunk of time ponies weren’t going to be too comfortable going outside, even indoors if it got too bad. It’d be a good chunk of time little was going to be done outside, in short. With any luck, snowfall wouldn’t be too prohibitive, otherwise we might well all get snowed in, figuratively and literally.
Thank you, lesson four. Planning ahead.
Anyway.
I’d finished off my coffee and turned around just in time to spot my two foals just as they came trotting into the kitchen. “Good morning, kids,” I greeted, cutting off their own salutations – to which they decided to retaliate by simply running up to my legs in their usual fashion. With eager chuckles, I bent down to ruffle their manes, to their endless amusement. I found myself feeling warm as I did so.
“Did you sleep well?” I asked them. They didn’t reply verbally, choosing to instead nod strongly – rubbing their heads against my hands as they did so, natch. Cute little kiddos, I had to admit. “What would you like for breakfast?”
“You mean we can choose?” squealed Bowmound, looking up at me with an expression of wonder I could only chuckle at. “Wow!” He immediately ran off to my icebox, flipping it open with rather more force than strictly necessary, Silent Wish joining him soon after with similar childlike joy.
Hmm. That’s actually pretty depressing, come to think of it. Every single pony who could walk was on the field, and every single icebox in the Free State – other than mine – was there too, being filled up. Choosing one’s meal was a luxury when the only icebox left for the foals was full of bread, rice and vegetables. Thankfully, those days at least would be gone for good now – I could make sure of that much.
The two kids returned with goodies loaded on their backs… somehow. I still didn’t really understand how ponies were so adept at manipulating things without hands, but I suspected the answer had something to do with magic. Because it was always magic with ponies. I quickly relieved them of their cargo, checked to see if any of it had gotten dirty or furry – ponies, after all – and soon served them their meals.
“Thank you, daddy,” chorused the two in their usual manner.
That word still managed to make me feel uneasy, despite having resigned myself to the future I had… mostly chosen for myself. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was, exactly, so I didn’t bother – instead smiling and nodding.
The front door creaking open caught my attention, and I turned to look at the hallway. A two-toned mint mane poked out from the corner, soon revealing the rest of Lyra behind it.
“Morning, Ly,” I said, moving over to her to offer a gentle pat on the back, earning me another smile. “Glad to see you back on your feet. Hooves, I mean – gah, whatever. Sawbones treat you alright?”
“Hehe.” Her voice still had some amount of fatigue to it. “Thanks. And yes, I’m feeling much better now.”
With my nod, she walked over to the table, greeting the foals enthusiastically but not quite committing to getting glomped by them just yet. I smirked, peering out of the still-open door to check if anyone else was coming to visit -
And, as a matter of fact, someone was. Construct was nearing, looking as neutral as ever. I waved her down, to which she sped up slightly. “Morning,” I called out.
“Good morning, First Minister,” she said, quickly stepping inside. I shut the door behind her.
Construct and I left Lyra to deal with the foals, as I led her into my study. I’d asked a pony to pass the message along to her that I wanted to speak with her soon – naturally, she had found time for it the very next day, practically just after the first crack of dawn. I settled into my chair at my desk, turning it sideways so I wouldn’t have to crane my neck like an owl to look at her.
Now that she was stood in front of me in the spare bedroom I insisted on calling an office, she seemed a little more fidgety than usual. She’d shrunk into herself ever so slightly – I saw her wings were vibrating, for lack of a better term, in a way that reminded me of how my own hands tended to shake when I got overwhelmed. Or after I’d drunk my fourth coffee in two hours. Either or, really.
“Sturdy Construct,” I began. “I’ve called you to speak with me here for a few reasons. Don’t worry, it isn’t to dress you down, or anything. I just… wanted to say a few things.”
It didn’t seem to reassure her much, I noted, so I kept going. “First off, I’d like to say that the work you have done here is nothing short of incredible. I know you were contracted out to merely build a settlement here, that is to say just the buildings and infrastructure. I know that my actions were… quite a wrench in those particular works – but you didn’t let that get in your way. I know I’ve asked you to do things that you had not planned to do during your time here, and yet you did them without complaint, and with your usual standards of excellence. I asked you to incorporate unskilled, untrained ponies into your brigades, and you did so immediately, and effectively. I… asked you to do a few things you might have found… questionable, and you still did them to the best of your ability. I’m perfectly willing to write a letter of commendation for you, to your employers, letting them know of precisely what the miracles you’ve worked here are.”
Construct’s slack-jawed expression was practically alien on her, stoic as she was. I resisted the chuckle threatening to bubble out of my throat. “Never thought you’d be endorsed by a head of state, huh? I mean it. I’ve got one drafted already, even, assuming I can’t convince you to stay.”
“I…” The pegasus was lost for words. I smiled at her, waiting patiently for her to recover, which fortunately didn’t take very long. “I… thank you, First Minister. I appreciate your kind words.” Then, when she finally figured out what I was telling her… “Wait… what do you mean, convince me to stay?”
I sighed. “Look, Construct… fuck it, I’ll tell it to you straight. I can’t rule like this. Alone. Making decisions like that, by myself, I just can’t do. Look at what the fallout of that kind of management was. You’ve been a great help in getting this project off of the ground so far, but… I can’t help but wonder…” I shook my head clear of those thoughts. It continued to be too late for them. “Never mind. The point is… I was hoping to convince you to stay on, on a more permanent basis.”
For the second time, Construct was stunned into silence. Not hearing any immediate questions, or denials, I continued. “I know it’s a very big thing to ask of you. If you don’t want to commit to this, that’s perfectly fine by me. I’ll let you go on your way, commendation in hand, and you can go back to Equestria. You’ve already done so much. But… well, I figured I could tempt you with an opportunity to get in on the ground floor of this little venture of mine.
“I, ah… don’t exactly have much to offer at the moment, besides what I already have to deal with – leadership, national management, things like that. I won’t deny it’s difficult – fuck, I’ve got first-hand experience in that. And I won’t deny that it might be a little different from the kind of work you’ve done for your career, and it might be overwhelming.” Christ, this might well be the worst sales pitch you’ve ever given, Inns.
“But, should you choose to accept, I can guarantee you that you’ll be working to improve the lives of a hell of a lot more ponies than you ever could before. Directly, if you’d prefer, in a role similar to your current one, or closer to me, top-down. You’d be given the resources of the entire Free State for you to use as you see fit in your duties, and no doubt the support of the population, as well as mine – and my other employees’, in the future. Definitely one hell of a promotion, wouldn’t you say?”
…
Construct was apparently too busy checking that her jaw was working properly to reply. A sensible response, to be perfectly honest – if it was any less secure, it might well have fallen to hit her hooves. I folded my hands across in my lap and waited patiently, trying to avoid looking too hopeful. After long, long moments spent in silence, Construct finally worked up the resolve to speak.
“…I-I don’t… that’s…”
Well, sort of.
“Don’t worry,” I placated. “I’m not trying to pressure you into this, or anything. If you don’t want to do this, I won’t hold it against you. I just… I could really use somepony like you on my side,” I confessed, dropping my voice perhaps lower than was strictly professional. “No man rules alone. I can only see things one way. You’re the kind of pony I could use to kick me in the pants when I’m being a stubborn idiot. You’re capable, clever, and you’re not biased. As far as I can tell, anyway. I’m… sure, you might even have done better than me.”
“I doubt what you are saying very much, First Minister,” she said, voice equally lowered. She stepped closer, bowing her head, looking up at me from under her mane. “I’m just a project manager. I know how to build settlements. I don’t know how to manage a nation. I’m not the mare for the job.”
“Neither was I,” I replied. “You’re a lucky w- ahem, mare, Construct. I was thrust into this position. To begin with, anyway. You’ve got a choice I wasn’t lucky enough to have. Celestia told me there were few ponies who could have done better in my place. ‘Four dead is a tragedy, but don’t let it overshadow the thousand that are still alive.’ I’m… not quite sure I can believe her, but I do believe you are one of those few. You’ve got experience in management. I’ve got experience in reading fucking books.”
Now, Construct’s head was bowed fully, concealing her eyes and expression, which I nevertheless figured must have been one of intense soul-searching. “You don’t have to make a decision now,” I told her. “Take some time, if you need it. Although I would like your decision as soon as possible, for… ah, professional reasons. I’ve got one more thing to ask of you anyway, before you go.”
“Hmm?” She looked back up at me, dazed briefly by my new request.
I smiled. “I’d quite like for you to build some dedicated office space for me – the government, I guess – before you go back to Equestria. I’m a little bit sick of theory-crafting a country in a spare bedroom.”
Finally, I got a laugh out of her, small and short though it may have been. “Of course, First Minister,” she replied, voice light. “Once we finish with the harvest, I’ll get started on that.”
“Thank you, Construct,” I finished, standing to my feet. Construct took it as her cue, turning around and making her way out of the room -
“Boo!” exclaimed the two foals waiting behind the door. Construct let out a sharp yell and leapt backwards, taking to the air instinctively, eliciting yells of satisfaction from the perpetrators.
“Yes!” shouted Bowmound. “We got you! You got scared!”
“You got scared! You got scared!”
Snrk, came a noise out from my throat. My foals had tried that trick on me a few times in the past, but it had never worked. Not outwardly, anyway – I will admit that perhaps once, I might have had to stop myself from jerking in shock. Construct, though… was patiently furling her wings back up, looking at the foals with something approaching exasperation.
“Now, kids, be nice to Miss Construct,” I said, coming up behind her to see the two look up at me as innocently as they could. Lyra was behind them, attempting to conceal her own amusement, poorly. “Why don’t you apologise for scaring her like that, mmm?”
“Sorry,” chorused the two, unconvincingly. It was enough for Construct, though, a smile breaking out from under her despite her best efforts, so I let it go. With a hand, I waved the two kids back to Lyra, offering a sympathetic glance to Construct.
“They try that a lot on me,” I said. “Good kids, though. Maybe if you stay long enough here, you’ll adopt two orphans of your own?”
An actual, genuine warm laugh escaped her, causing Lyra’s ears to perk towards her. “Oh, Celestia, no,” she chuckled. “I’m nowhere near ready for that kind of responsibility.”
“Neither was I,” I said.
Construct turned her whole head to look at me, surprised. All I offered her was a smile. “But I like to think it all worked out in the end.”
Construct nodded, turning back to the two foals, busy pestering Lyra to do something or another with her. “…I suppose so,” she said lowly, nodding almost involuntarily. “I suppose so.”
I didn’t much like being back in the clinic.
“So, Sawbones,” I said, not stepping too deeply into the building just yet. “How are we looking here?”
Yeah, I know. Too little, too late. That was only some of what I was here for, at any rate. I was mostly just here to prolong the inevitable speech I was going to have to give to whoever was able to show up at the sawmill. It… was not something to look forward to, considering its contents. I doubted I’d even get much flak for it – which, on the whole, was what made it so distasteful.
“Getting through it, First Minister,” came the somewhat strained reply. Only the rear half of the good doctor was visible; the rest of him was rummaging around an elongated crate that appeared to serve double duty as a reception desk when it was closed. “About eight hundred have come through here, treated them all so far. That’s… what…”
“Two, three hundred more,” I supplied.
“Thank you. Few more days, and we’ll be done here.”
I nodded, gratefully, looking around the place – it seemed to be just about as full as it was the first time I’d entered. “No… complications?”
“No, sir,” he said, and I just about fell over from relief. Thank fuck. No-one else had to join them. “Was touch-and-go for the red tags, for a little while, the first ones I had to deal with, but they’ve come out fine. Complicating factors, you know how it is. Yellows had a week or two more to go. Just a few more of them to go, and then I can start prescribing good-old-fashioned supplements instead of faffing around doing my job.”
I blinked, and opened my mouth to throw out some half-baked reprimand, but it never came. I had no right. He’d probably seen a lot worse, anyhow. “A few? Clinic still looks full to me.”
“Empty cots are at the far end,” he said, by way of explanation. I chose to take his word on it. “Ah, there it is. Blasted thing.”
Finally, the crate had had enough of having Sawbones in it, and he was promptly thrown out of it – with a smaller box in his hooves. He turned to finally give me a nod, which I returned somewhat less enthusiastically. “Feel like helping an old stallion out with his work?” he asked, thrusting the box at me.
I didn’t deliberate for very long, walking up to relieve him of the burden. “You got it, doc. Where do ya need this?”
The simple feeling of moving stuff around did wonders to take my mind off things. Holding boxes, giving their contents to the doc when he asked for it… medicine was not something I knew terribly much about, but I still found it a fascinating topic. If my hands didn’t shake so much, I reckoned I could have made a decent go of it at med school. Instead, my life had led me here, as… I didn’t even know. A scholar? An engineer? An artist?
Heh. Another way I was doing things wrong. I’ve done it like an artist, where I should have seen it as an engineering problem.
“First Minister?”
A voice broke me out of my rather… idiosyncratic musings. It wasn’t the doctor’s, and it definitely wasn’t mine. I looked down at the cot I was standing at the foot of – and so did Sawbones, a little more concerned than I was. The distractingly pink pony who was resting on it was looking at me, eyes wide in wonder. “It’s…”
“Easy there, son,” said Sawbones, moving to put a hoof on the pony’s forehead. “You aren’t quite out of the woods yet. Rest up. You’ll be back on your hooves within a day.”
The pony blinked slowly, and eased himself back down. His eyes remained on me, wide as ever. “It’s… the First Minister is…”
I tried to hide my grimace. The First Minister is helping the doctor fix me up. That was no badge of honour. He shouldn’t have even needed to be in the clinic in the first place. “You heard the doctor, sir. I’d hate to do anything to prolong your stay here. Get some rest. You’ll be fine.”
Sawbones nodded in approval, taking another bag of clear fluid off of my hands and hooking it up to the IV stand. The pony obligingly stuck a hoof out and lolled his head to the side, closing his eyes, apparently taking our advice to try to go to sleep.
My grim exhale went unnoticed by the cot pony, but not the doctor, who paused in his work for a single moment to throw me a glance I couldn’t even begin to unpack. It wasn’t so much that I was uncomfortable by the adulation I was apparently being lavished in – or awe, worship, personality cult, whatever the reason was he looked at me like I was an angel at the foot of his cot – though I was. I was just a guy. That’s not worth worship.
What it really was, was the knowledge that I could well have gotten that pony killed, too, because of what I did. He probably knew that – and if not, then… if he didn’t show for my speech, some other pony would undoubtedly tell him of it – and yet he still looked at me like that. I couldn’t understand. Little was adding up. Was leadership, in Equestria, just automatically a quality worth worship? That was laughable – and yet, no other conclusion was drawn forth.
Damn it. So much for clearing my thoughts.
Sawbones was surprisingly understanding when I made my excuses and left, only suggesting I come back some other time to help him finish up. I doubted I’d take him up on it, but the option was nice to have, at least.
In the end, I’d put it off for as long as I could. Just about the whole country was in front of me, looking up at the raised platform of the sawmill I was soon going to have to replace with something actually fit for purpose. Not that I could actually see a thousand ponies in front of me – there just wasn’t enough floor space for that. Not with houses in front and to the sides. Instead, a few had chosen to stay behind buildings, around corners, within earshot. Many more had elected to stand to the sides of and behind the sawmill, again within earshot. So long as I didn’t start whispering, everypony would hear me.
Behind me, on stage but out of the focus, were Blueblood and Construct, quietly talking to each other. I’d asked them along as a courtesy. I didn’t really need them to hear this, but I figured I could at least… I didn’t even know. Show the people I had advisors? A better gesture than nothing, I’d figured.
And now, here I was, standing in front of my subjects… not saying a fucking word.
I was leaning on what I thought was a cross between a bannister and a lectern, arms folded, a tired gaze surveying the ponies in front of me. I had, once again, had the luxury of writing out a speech to give, just like the first one I’d given in Canterlot. No ass-pulling was going to cut it here. Not with what I was going to talk about.
They say honesty is like oxygen: the higher up you go, the less of it there is.
Not today.
“Friends. Comrades. Countrymen... my people.” My voice rang out hard and sharp, slicing through the air effortlessly. At once, I returned to being First Minister Inns – standing straight, gaze practically scalding. “It has been a long and hard four months since the day I arrived to the Free State to find five hundred ponies at my doorstep. That day, I made a pledge to you all - to protect you, to nurture you, to raise you above yourselves... to give you a home, a livelihood, a friend - a community. I pledged this all and more, out of my own two hands, if necessary to my dying breath.
“I made no illusions as to what we were facing. I was not ready for those five hundred. The reality we faced was famine. Overcrowding, dangerous weather, disease, and a hundred smaller challenges between. I had believed that, through my efforts, through your perseverance, through our hardship and sacrifices, we could have overcome these challenges, and have come out a stronger people for it.
“In fact, many of my efforts had only exacerbated those challenges. Even if unintentionally, I made decisions that created problems. Exacerbated problems. Worse, I did not make decisions that could have solved, or relieved, these problems, either out of fear for the future, or through simple thoughtlessness. Now, as a consequence of my decision-making, four of the residents of the Free State are now dead.”
I was getting dangerously close to wavering – I took a moment to quietly clear my throat before continuing. “I promised you all a home, a livelihood, a friend... a place where no pony would ever have to go hungry again. Snapper; Creosole; Tinted Brass; Fern Crook. For these four ponies, that promise is now irrevocably broken, as a result of the actions I took, myself. I know this. It will weigh on my soul for the rest of my life.
“…I have already reflected on where I have gone wrong in service to those four ponies, and to you all here today. The mistakes I made could easily have been prevented, the solutions I did not consider could easily have been implemented... the promises I made to you could still mean something to those four. I know I do not deserve to stand in front of you, and expect you to follow me.
“However, the one promise I still hold onto, that I will not ever break, that I can not ever break, is to continue to provide for those who might still want, and need, the help that I can give. I promised to work to better the lives of you all, to the best of my ability, to the day I die. That promise, if none other, still holds value.
“It is too late to change the past, now. All that is left is to learn from it, and to make sure its mistakes are never repeated in the future. I can not bring Snapper, or Fern Crook, or Creosole or Tinted Brass, back from their resting places. All that is left for me to do, is to make sure that their deaths were not meaningless; to make sure nopony else ever needs to join them. Rest assured, my people - I will not repeat my mistakes. Not. Ever. Again.
“Thank you all.”
My speech was abruptly cut off. I glanced around the crowd I could see in front of me – it all stood, transfixed, in total silence. It was about the warmest reception I was expecting from that – no-one likes being told their leadership actually sucks shit, after all. I swallowed heavily, considered simply turning around and walking into the sawmill – and then, that was exactly what I did, rounding on my heel.
A noise behind me made me stop. Turning back to the crowd, rather stupidly I’ll admit, I looked about owlishly, trying to pinpoint it again, like I was a dictator looking for the dissenter. (Alright, perhaps that was a poor analogy…) Then, I heard it again. And again. Then… an awful lot.
It was the sound of hooves on dirt.
Was I…
That was how ponies clapped, wasn’t it? Was I really being clapped, after a speech like that?
The sound grew practically physical, vibrating the wooden deck under my feet, growing only more and more intense. It was all I could do to hang on to the lectern-thing for dear life, eyes widened about as far as they’d go, overwhelmed by the support my ponies were still, apparently, willing to give me. Unless they were trying to induce an earthquake to collapse the sawmill on top of me, I could only assume I was being applauded by a thousand ponies – the vast majority of my subjects.
After the speech I’d just given.
I raised my arms high, asking for quiet. I supposed I had to say something more, after a show of support like that. The ponies in front of me stopped their running in place, or whatever they were doing to make that racket, at once. The effect rippled out like a Mexican wave, ponies falling still like a pair of curtains being opened. Soon, the Free State was silent once more.
“I…” Instantly, my voice broke. I shook my head, quietly embarrassed, and cleared my throat to try again. “I can’t…” That time, it was for lack of anything to say. To convey precisely what I was feeling at that moment. I had no prepared response this time.
“I… humbly thank you, my loyal citizens, for the trust you continue to place in me, despite my shortcomings. I will not ever fail you again. Not ever again.”
This time, cheers broke out alongside the hoofstomping. I raised my arms again, this time not as high, to convey my gratitude to my ponies.
“You seem to have a predilection for the gloomy speeches, First Minister,” remarked Construct, as I walked up to join Blueblood and her, after the crowd had begun to disperse. “Anypony ever told you to lighten up a bit?”
“Yes, actually, frequently.” I rolled my eyes. “Never reckoned there was much point in it.”
Some reluctant huffs of what might have been amusement were exchanged between the three of us, before Construct returned to talking to Blueblood. I waited patiently for them to finish – I wasn’t in a big rush.
“…Like I was saying,” said Blueblood. “You will need to address it to the Chancellery. They’ll get your details sent along to where they will need to be. I won’t be able to help speed anything along; I can only deliver the note. I suspect I’ll be busy here for a long while yet, after all.”
“Right,” nodded Construct. “Got it. Here’s hoping they don’t lose my tax bits along the way. I’ll have that handed to you by tomorrow evening, at the latest. Thank you, Lord Commissioner.” She smirked. “Or, I guess Ambassador now.”
“Of course,” Blueblood nodded back. “I’ll be in my quarters, then. Good day, madam. First Minister.”
We all exchanged one final nod, before Blueblood walked past us and away to his own business. Construct turned to me, ready with a soft smile. “Right,” she began. “I’ve had some time, I’ve thought about your offer.”
“Yes?”
“Well…” Oh wow. So that’s how annoying it is when I do it. “You are right. It would be a lot of work, a lot of getting used to new responsibilities. I think it would be a lot easier, for me, to simply consider this a job well done and to go back to my home in Equestria.”
“Right, of course.”
Honestly, that was exactly what I was expecting to hear from her. I mean, wasn’t I a prime example of what could happen if a person was thrust into a position like that-
“But then, I thought about it some more, and I realised… I… you…” A pause. I gave her the time she needed. “…well, what I mean to say is…” She looked up at me, then, with eyes so full and sparkling it almost made me gasp. “...You were right,” she eventually settled on. “This… has been so much more fulfilling than any job I’ve ever taken before. Everything else, everything before this, was just… a project. An obligation. A task for me to do, get paid for, and move on to the next.”
“And then I mucked it all up,” I said glibly.
“And then you showed me what the impact of my work really was,” she corrected. “Out here, working alongside the ponies I was developing this land for… it… that wasn’t something I ever did before. They…”
This time, the stumbling block proved too much. She shook her head. “I can’t describe it. Was… was that something you felt, when you were working as First Minister?”
I inhaled. “…Working alongside the ponies I was taking care of, yeah. Giving them what I promised. Before I mucked it all up – that hasn’t even stopped them.”
“…I’m giving Blueblood a letter to take to the Chancellery of Domestic Affairs,” she said. “It shouldn’t take too long for them to process my change of residence.”
…
“You mean…?”
"If you really think I'm the mare for the job... I suppose I can try to talk you down from making poor decisions again." She smiled, and held out a hoof. “Sign me up, First Minister.”
The feeling of relief, satisfaction, happiness, that washed over me as I shook her hoof was practically explosive in its power. I gladly, and perhaps a little too enthusiastically, shook her hoof, giving her a brilliant little smile that she soon adopted too. “Happy to hear it,” I said, after searching for something for just a touch too long. “Really, I mean that. I couldn’t think of anyone else I’d rather have in my cabinet than you.”
“…You mean…?”
I snorted. “No better method than trial by fire. Apparently. Congratulations on your new post, Second Minister Construct.”
I’d expected her to react quite strongly to that little chestnut. I’d half-braced myself for her to leap up into my chest, so I’d have to catch and cradle her like the world’s most excited cat. I’d also been ready for a slap to the face – part sunny optimism, and part me throwing her in that position the same way I’d been thrown into mine, though I was of course ready to offer her something more manageable if she disagreed that vehemently.
Instead, all I got was a nod, and a very serious look indeed. “Thank you, First Minister Inns. I won’t let you down.”
“Please.” I rolled my eyes. “We’re going to be working together a hell of a lot, now. I think you’ve earned the right to call me by my first name.”
“Then call me by mine,” she immediately replied, her serious face melting away quickly enough that it must have been a thin facade at best.
“Bleh. Just saying ‘Sturdy’ by itself sounds weird. Sorry, but I’ve just gotten too used to calling you Construct.”
She laughed. “Well, it was worth a shot. Fine, Adam. I look forward to working with you.”
“As do I.”