//------------------------------// // 21. Deeper Waters I – Making a Home a Rome // Story: The Ship of State // by marciko322 //------------------------------// As it turned out, running a country by yourself was actually really hard. I didn’t think that was a lesson people really had to learn, given that it was a pretty obvious consequence of so many people rubbing together in one place, but there you go. With the Free State out of crisis for the moment, and with some hard lessons learned and reinforced, I figured that now was as good a time as ever to finally start moving forward with the whole point of me having gotten to this position in the first place – nation-building. I was sat at my desk in my study, shuffling the notes I’d doodled five, six months ago about the topic, together with some much more recent ones that were more illuminating and more scathing. I’d asked Construct – who I was quite amused to learn was only supposed to replace me if I was unavailable, according to an earlier diagram made during less enlightened times – to fetch a few ponies to me, so that I could start getting a clue about how I was supposed to do this. The more I thought about it, the more I realised that I knew distressingly little about what was happening in the Free State. Information was just not coming to me; as First Minister, that was a big fucking problem. I shouldn’t have had to go door-to-door to find out basic information like the disposition of my citizens; that needed to make its way to me as soon as possible, so I could spend time actually doing things. Fixing things, if needed. And yet, I had never actually asked anyone to do that for me. In addition, with over a thousand people now calling this place their home, and more arriving every day – who also were all of practically every conceivable kind of different backgrounds – I could no longer afford to think of the Free State as a mere commune, where I was the village elder; I needed actual, legitimate authority to start making things happen... or, at the very least, I could fake it 'til I made it. And, of course, the fact that I'd be able to lessen some of the burden on my shoulders by doing so would be a very welcome addition. To put it simply, I had a truly monstrous to-do list in front of me. The door creaked open. I turned in my chair to see Blueblood nosing his way in, relaxing considerably once he saw me, walking in with much more confidence. Construct followed him in, professional as ever. “First Minister,” greeted Blueblood. “Ambassador. Thank you for coming.” Seeing no other pony coming in after Construct, I turned to her with a quizzical look. “She said she had some things to take care of first,” said Construct. “She should be here soon.” “Who?” asked Blueblood. “Someone who sees things differently to you,” I replied cryptically, to which Blueblood snorted in frustration. “Anyway. Yes, I’ve called you in here this afternoon to discuss our plans going forward. The whole sordid business of a few weeks ago was, if nothing else, incredibly eye-opening in regards to our – sorry, my shortcomings. That cannot be allowed to happen again.” It was a pretty lukewarm takeaway, but the two ponies still nodded along. “I won’t go over the specifics of what happened and how it could have been prevented; I’m still working on that inquiry. To sum it up, I acted under inaccurate information and false assumptions; I did not provide nor receive any indication that this was a situation that needed to change; and I did not delineate formal authority to provide ponies the ability to inform me of their situation, nor to gather accurate information about said situation. Those are the most important, and the most relevant, lessons to what I am about to say here. As of today, I will no longer allow myself, or any other being, to make those same mistakes.” “What do you mean? How do you intend to meet this…” Blueblood waved a hoof in the air. “This incredibly vague set of goals?” “No man rules alone,” I replied. “I’ll spare you the long-winded speech, I don’t want to spend the whole day talking in here. What I need is an effective government structure that I can delegate to, so I no longer have to oversee every single decision personally – I believe you already know how that turned out. I need competent ponies in charge of my ministries, who can take care of matters they have expertise with on my behalf, and who can inform me promptly of issues suddenly coming up that need direct oversight. Construct, here, was my first step in doing that.” “How so?” came the follow-up. “Second Minister,” was all I was going to say. Hmm… probably not a great idea to talk all secret-like at a time like this. “Ahem. What I mean to say is that… I was fortunate enough to be able to poach Construct from her position in Equestria. I believe she has the competency and the knowledge to excel in her new position. It’s… actually not that big a leap from what she was doing beforehand, now that I think of it. Just co-ordinating with me much closer, and more frequently. “Anyway, I digress. I have… oh gosh, ten different things to get through today.” I grimaced, staring down at the list in my hands with undisguised revulsion – particularly the very first item on it. “Right, the sooner we get through this, the sooner we can start doing work. First off – food. Construct, how are we doing in regards to our food security?” “The harvest is still proceeding,” she reported. “About eighty-five percent of our total sown farm area has been harvested and stored so far, totalling enough production to feed, I’d estimate just under two thousand ponies.” Ding ding – what? “I’m sorry?” I interrupted. “Two thousand? How can we have so much? I was under the impression we were dangerously close to our carrying capacity. Don’t tell me you and your employees spent two months doing nothing but ploughing more fields?” “Not just us,” said Construct. “Considerable fractions of the populace asked to assist us. Even during the starvation period, though to a vastly lesser extent. Not all of it was done in time for planting, however. Our next harvest I’d say could feed as many as three thousand and six hundred.” “…Christ,” I breathed. “That’s… a pleasant surprise and a half. Do… we have enough space to store all that produce?” “We should do. Much of it is non-perishable. If we need more space, I can have additional pantries set up reasonably quickly.” “Perhaps a silo would be best,” I noted. “We probably ought to turn our crop ‘fields’ into an actual, organised farm complex. Maybe some facilities to make more luxury foodstuffs. Hmm… might do well to purchase some livestock. Remind me to look into that later, Construct.” “…Will do. Don’t forget we’ll need your help in planting again, First Minister.” I resisted the urge to slap myself in the face. Right, the crops did need considerable effort to grow here. I was going to need to reserve some time to lay hands on as much of the harvest as I possibly could. The part we were going to sow back onto the fields, at least. Although, now that I thought about it… “Actually, we might well not do.” Blueblood, who I noted was looking increasingly terminally bored, snapped back into the realm of the awake, training his gaze on me with rather sharp focus. “Since… remind me, how did that theory about our crops go?” “You drain the magic from the crops that you touch physically, which means they no longer require a magic intake from the ambient field and can grow anywhere the soil itself permits,” said Construct. I nodded. “Uh-huh… so, when I touch them, they don’t suck magic in any more. So doesn’t that mean that… when they’re harvested, they also still don’t have any magic in them? Couldn’t we just plant them straight back in again? And that’d be fine?” The ensuing silence told me that hadn’t occurred to them yet. Blueblood in particular was doing a fantastic impression of a hungry shark. “I mean, it makes sense to me,” I continued. “But then again, I’m not too knowledgeable on magic. Besides, we can’t take a gamble on literally our entire food supply like that. I’ll allow an experiment to check, but for the time being we’ll do it the way that’s been proven to work.” I gestured vaguely at my Second Minister. “I’ll let you come up with the specifics. If that works out…” I didn’t finish my sentence. There were too many ways to choose from for that. After a short, stunned silence, Construct nodded, blinking her shock away. “I’ll get it done, First Minister.” “Good, good.” Nothing more leapt up at me, yet, so I decided to move on. “Next up… ah, yes. I have an awful lot of responsibilities I don’t need to oversee personally, and can delegate away – and the Free State continues to lack an actual, formal, official governmental structure. Besides whatever I say happening, I suppose. I’d like to start setting up actual executive positions so I don’t have to mastermind every single decision by myself.” I looked down, shuffling the sheaf of papers in my hand – the list of positions had mysteriously disappeared. I had to wade through quite a few of my less-than-relevant notes on my desk before I found it again. “Ah, right, here we are. I… oh Christ.” The first hurdle of this point smacked itself in my face, loud and clear; there were thirteen different positions that I’d marked as ‘bare-minimum essentials’ – Construct filled one, as Second Minister, and I of course took First Minister. Eleven were left – and I had maybe two candidates to choose from. One was Lyra, who… I doubted could fill any of them effectively. The other was… a unicorn stallion whose name escaped me, who I’d earmarked for his cutie mark being related to paperwork. I similarly doubted his capacities for serious leadership. Probably he’d end up being a secretary or something. “First Minister?” asked Blueblood. “There’s… a lot of names I need.” I sighed, looking back up at my two guests. “Alright. Blueblood, Construct, I have a cabinet structure… more or less ready. All I need is people to staff it. I need, at the very least, a minister for Domestic Affairs, and the secretaries for Agriculture and Immigration & Citizenship under them. Everything else we can hold off on for a short while, but I need somepony watching the most important goings-on of the Free State.” “Who do you propose to fill those positions?” “Exactly,” I replied. “I haven’t a monkey’s. I have three names to choose from – Construct’s already Second Minister, Lyra has absolutely no experience in any relevant field, and you, Blueblood, are foreign royalty. I’m not going to import Equestrian leadership to run the Free State, but at the same time I’d rather not have to go rummaging through the fucking bins trying to find cabinet members. I’ll need one of you to go asking around for any pony with even tangential experience. Preferably you, Construct, but I know I’ve already put a lot of work on you.” “It’s no matter, First Minister,” said Construct, bowing her head. “I can get it done.” I shook my head in disbelief. “Christ… a real workaholic, are ya?” Then, I snapped my fingers – in my own way, since I didn’t know how to do it properly; it made a much more subdued fwap and unfolded into a fingergun – as I recalled precisely who my Second Minister used to be. “Oh, right, I totally forgot: what’s going to happen with the rest of your crew, Construct? They’re going back to Equestria, right?” “That’s right,” she confirmed. “Once Shuffle sees the original plan through to the end, they’ll pack up and head back.” Darn. Could have poached some of them, too. “They’re still working?” asked Blueblood. “I would have thought they would have done everything their plan called for, with a thousand extra sets of hooves with nothing better to do assisting them.” “They’re still busy training some local pegasi in basic weather manipulation. That’s going to take at least a few more weeks.” Blueblood and I both nodded. “I hope you got them to train some of the locals in other basic industries before they left,” I remarked. “That sawmill is going to be our meal ticket to the rest of the world.” I shook my head. “But I digress again. Right, uh… yes, get that done, Construct. I’ll hand you the full list in case you find a useful pony for something we’ll need later on.” “Yes, First Minister.” Good, good. I flipped a page to my next point. “Right. Speaking of the sawmill, what about the Free State’s industry? Our agriculture is still… mostly a subsistence affair, and we don’t have anything besides my old still for our secondary sector. Can we do anything with the massive forest the vast majority of our nation consists of?” “Much of our sawmill’s production thus far has gone to constructing housing for the residents,” said Construct. “With the settlement’s growth as rapid as it has been, we’ve had very little opportunity for anything else, or to collect surplus material. I’d suggest raising another sawmill, or perhaps a paper mill, but we would need to import the metals and machinery since we don’t produce any locally. And, well…” “As Second Minister, you no longer have a connection to Equestrian industry,” I finished, “so we’d need to front the cost ourselves. Which we can’t, since we’re broke.” “…That about sums it up,” said Construct, utterly unnecessarily. Right. We are, indeed, dirt poor, aren’t we? I had, after all, spent my entire savings back in July for Construct to go to Manehattan, four months ago. The Free State’s coffers were empty – except, I supposed, for my booze, which I could theoretically pawn off to Las Pegasus or Detrot or somewhere. “…Mmm. Right. I suppose… artisans would be our best bet, then. For now.” “Artisans?” parroted both ponies. “Yeah. Ponies like… Hooves, I guess. He’s a woodcarver, turns planks into busts of Napoleon or whatever. Private citizens, I mean, turning raw resources into manufactured goods privately. I’m… not quite sure how we could harness that for the Free State, short of forcing them to work for my benefit at gunpoint.” I grimaced. “Bleh. I… I suppose we could also just sell on some of our produce, since we’ve got such a surplus, but… I’m sure you understand why I might be wary of such a move.” “Indeed,” said Blueblood, just a touch flatly. Construct nodded her agreement. “Well, I suppose we can leave that for later. Let the citizens start their own private ventures.” … ...Oh goddamn it. I facepalmed. “Right. Yes. Let them do that, and tax them. Brilliant idea, Inns. It’s almost as if that’s what literally every single government in history has done.” “So long as you don’t go overboard,” reminded Construct, amused. “Mmm,” I hummed from behind my palm. “Yeah. I know. I’m not gonna introduce a fifty-percent income tax, don’t you worry. Speaking of which.” I disengaged hand from face, and shuffled my papers in my other hand, checking I hadn’t gotten lost in my point somewhere along the way. “Yes. The economy. We… do need one of those, don’t we.” “Ye-” “Rhetorical question, Blueblood, don’t be an idiot.” I shot him a glare. “Because right now, we’re working off of the ‘we need to do this or else we all die’ model, which I daresay is going to become obsolete pretty soon. No pony in the Free State has a salary at the moment besides food and housing, and I don’t want First Minister to be a feudal position, or a warlord’s title. We don’t have a mint, or a treasury, and I’m not so sure the idea of imagining a currency into place for the Free State would go over well.” “Imagine?” asked Blueblood, frowning. “Free State bucks,” I replied glibly. “Long and short of it is that it’s pointless. We need bits. I’m happy to work for free, and… so is Construct, for now, but at some point civil servants do expect fat salaries, beyond turnips and vodka like it’s the fucking nineties. Not to mention the workforce itself… oh,” I waved a hand in the air. “I think you get what I mean.” “What are your plans for that?” asked Construct. “Pfft. Get a Treasury minister to do it for me. I’m not an economist.” “You should be,” said Blueblood, disapprovingly. “A nation’s economy is an integral part of its success or failure. You cannot neglect it and expect positive resul-” “I don’t expect my knowledge on fiscal policy to be entirely relevant until we actually get a fucking economy going, Ambassador,” I retorted. “Besides, it’s not the Princess’ job to make decisions for her cabinet members over in Equestria, why should it be mine here? So long as someone knows what they’re doing when they do the job, that’s fine by me. If I have to take over as interim Treasury minister, then I’ll start debating the merits of state capitalism versus laissez-faire, yeah?” “…As you wish, First Minister,” he relented. I shook my head, and continued. “Anyway. What’s next… ah, yes, the weather. Construct’s already said her workers are training some of our pegasi in weather management. That’ll be ready in a few weeks, is that right?” “That’s correct,” confirmed Construct. “Mmm. Good, that’s good. Next, we h-” “Wait,” Blueblood cut in, confused. “That’s it? Are you not going to set up weather factories?” “…Do I have to?” I asked – which only befuddled him even further. “Whuh… I-I…” “The First Minister is familiar with uncontrolled weather patterns,” Construct explained to him. “I believe he sees it as enough that the worst circumstances, like thunderstorms, heatwaves and cold snaps, and so on, are avoided.” “Got it in one,” I confirmed. “No point wasting time, money and workers on something that can just as well do itself. One hundred percent accurate weather schedule’s not worth spending four hundred sixty million a year, Blueblood. Certainly not for such a small state. I’ll be just fine with nothing that harms my people – and irrigates the farmland if it needs it.” “…I suppose you have a point there,” he conceded. “My Equestrian bias has gotten the best of me on a few occasions.” “Mmm. Anyway. Christ Almighty, we’re only halfway through the list…” A disgruntled noise came out of Blueblood, who slumped in place. “Must I really be here for this entire time? I have Court matters to attend to outside of my ambassadorial duties, if I may remind you, First Minister.” I glared at him. As a matter of fact, Construct herself didn’t look too pleased, either – a sure sign I was rubbing off on her already. “Yes, Ambassador. I’m well aware of your passion for fucking off on Equestrian business for weeks at a fucking time. Quite frankly I’m not sure how you can reconcile your duties in that fashion; I would be glad and happy to send you back to Celestia and get a replacement ambassador that takes his fucking work seriously, were you not a part of my inner circle and also the one pony with the most experience in statecraft in the entire Free State. So simmer the fuck down, Blueballs.” … “Anyway,” I continued after a beat. “Next up is our foreign affairs. Ambassador, what can you tell us about what the world thinks of the Free State?” There was a long, frosty moment of silence before Blueblood spoke. “…I’m sure you are already aware of what the Office of the Celestial Diarchy thinks of you, First Minister. Much of the remainder of Equestrian nobility, however, remains wary of the Free State, believing it to be an upset of the previous status-quo. I have yet to hear of any titled noble make inroads into the State, except of course for Lady Upper Crust – and perhaps myself.” “Don’t flatter yourself.” “…Popular opinion of the Free State, however, is generally quite favourable, particularly with the more progressive sections of Equestria. You might have heard of the devolutionaries making gains recently; they have good things to say about you.” “Any other nation?” I asked. “The griffons? Minotaurs? Anyone else taking an interest in us?” “Not to my knowledge, no,” said Blueblood. “I haven’t heard anything on that matter.” “Mmm. Right.” That was about what I was expecting, really. The Free State was (almost) entirely composed of ponies, after all, and was also circled entirely by Equestria. “Guess that’s enough of that, then. Uh… ah, right. I suppose you may go now, Ambassador; I don’t believe we’ll need you for the remaining points.” “Thank you, First Minister.” At once, Blueblood was in motion, the door opening ahead and him disappearing through it - “Ough! Ah, my apologies, madam.” The door stayed opened behind him, allowing Construct and I to hear Blueblood bumping into another pony on his way out, who soon entered to replace him. A brightly-coloured pegasus mare entered, looking conflicted as to whether to seem relieved or concerned about what had just occurred. “Ah, Night Gown,” I greeted. “Glad you could make it. You’re a little bit early, but you can sit in if you want.” “Yes, thank you,” said Night Gown, taking Blueblood’s open seat on the floor. Construct looked between me and her, trying to puzzle out the connection. “I’ll tell you in a minute, Second Minister,” I told her. “Now. Next topic is… our infrastructure. Our water’s all connected, right? Heating, cooling, all that quality-of-life stuff?” “Yes, First Minister,” said Construct. “Good. Roads, rail, air travel? Do we have anything I need to know about on that front?” “Not yet, I don’t think,” she said. “This is still the only settlement in the Free State. That I know of, at least.” Night Gown shuffled in place, apparently trying to get comfortable. “Mmm. That’s a shame. I was thinking… perhaps setting up a rail connection between the Free State and Equestria. You know, a more direct one. Make trade a little bit simpler, cheaper. Transportation, too.” “With respect, First Minister,” said Construct, “I don’t believe that’s a decision you can make without Equestrian approval.” “I know that, Construct,” I broke in. “Just hypothesising. I doubt my citizens would be terribly happy about it, either. We can stick that in the back of the drawer somewhere. So to speak.” “Um,” ummed Night Gown, raising a hoof in the air awkwardly. “Should… I really be here for this? First Minister?” “Don’t worry, I already covered everything sensitive before you arrived,” I told her. “But yes, I do apologise for wasting your time. I suppose I can simply skip to the relevant section for you.” Then, I turned to Construct, getting up and off of my chair for the first time in… surprisingly not long. “Second Minister Construct. As a part of Free State leadership, as well as the second of authority should anything unforeseen happen to me, you need to know about this. What I am about to tell you I consider a state secret – do not go spreading this information around. You might well get ponies killed, and will damage the security and foreign relations of the Free State, by doing so. Do you understand?” The suddenness of the deadly-serious proclamation seemed to take both ponies off-guard, with Construct physically leaning back in surprise. Eventually, though, after sparing one last glance at Night Gown, she nodded firmly. “Yes, First Minister.” I gestured towards Night Gown. “That ‘pegasus’ there is Dame Night Gown. She is a metallurgist by talent and a thestral by species. Her org-” “Thestral?” It was a subtle thing, but Construct did tense up at the name, inching down closer to the floor by millimetres, as if poised for a fight. “She’s a batpony?” “Second Minister,” I barked, forcing her attention back to me. “Control yourself. Yes, Night Gown is a thestral. May I continue?” A sheepish nod was my answer, at which I softened. “As I was saying, I… I took pity on their situation, if not their cause. If you see what I mean. Yes, Dame Night Gown is of the Lunar Corps, which has professed its desire to topple the Equestrian government, which I do not agree with. That does not, however, mean that I am fine with all thestrals being sentenced to the fucking death penalty for showing themselves in Equestria. And neither should you,” I added, as if she couldn’t derive that conclusion herself – judging by her sidelong glances, she might well not have. “…She doesn’t look like a thestral,” Construct finally decided on. At once, Night Gown and I rolled our eyes. “Well, duh,” I said. “What would you have done if she walked in here without her disguise?” “Disguise?” I rolled my eyes again. “Just… just show her, Gown. Get this over with.” Night Gown looked between the two of us, nervously, just the same as she did the first time I’d asked her to reveal herself. I looked on with considerably more kindness than Construct did, I noted, who looked more like she was about twenty seconds from cussing both of us out. Nevertheless, after a short while of indecision, off went the pegasus image, replaced by the thestral mare I could only look at directly for a few seconds before I had to avert my gaze to stop it from… roaming. I chose to look Construct in the eye. “Convinced now?” I asked her. Construct did not meet my eyes, opting instead to continue to stare down the thestral, who began to fidget under her scrutiny. She nodded slowly, eyes narrowing. “…What is she doing here?” “Second Minister.” This time, my voice was much colder. Construct snapped her gaze back to me at once, ears folding against her head. “Calm yourself. This is not Equestria. This thestral has done nothing to cause harm to the Free State or any of its people. You will not treat her like a second-class citizen. Do I make myself clear?” “Perfectly, First Minister,” came the contrite reply. “Good.” I turned back to Night Gown, and tried my damnedest to keep my eyes on hers as I spoke. “Now. I called you in here for a reason beyond just this. It’s been a few months since I last heard anything from the thestrals. How many of you are there, exactly, in the Free State? How many of my pegasi are actually thestrals?” “I can assure you, we don’t mean the Free State any harm,” she began, to my consternation. That wasn’t the question I was trying to ask. “We have sent no legionary to your soil, and will not ever do so.” “Civilians?” I tried. That seemed to do the trick. “Oh, ah… yes. A few of our… wearier ponies have settled in your territory. I hope that will not be a problem?” “On the contrary,” I assured her. “That’s precisely what I like to hear. I, ah… would like to know, though, who they might be, and how many there actually are. For… obvious reasons, I should hope.” ...Oh, that’s supposed to be a spear. Really, Adam? A stick? “…That’s perfectly understandable. I can get a list of their names and disguises to you, if need be.” “I would appreciate that.” An awkward silence ensued. Night Gown was looking at me – now quite puzzled – no, wait, now she had put on a little devious smirk. I, on the other hand, was still- Erk. …admiring her cutie mark. Which was… Night Gown turning her body to the side to show her mark head-on proved it. I’d just been caught in the act. Oh, shit… “Would you like a closer look, First Minister?” she crooned, with eyes half-lidded and tail starting to swish. I instantly turned my head away to the wall, feeling my ears starting to burn. “N-no thank you,” I stammered out. “I’d… rather not…” “Can we get back on track, First Minister, Dame Gown?” asked a rather exasperated Construct, thankfully giving me something else to focus on. “Yes, thank you, Second Minister,” I said quickly, pointedly continuing to stare at the wall. “An excellent suggestion. I, ah… yes. Right. Uh…” Clearly, this was not going to get me anywhere. I screwed my eyes shut, my fingers coming up to rub at them, and sighed heavily. “Mmm. I do have a question, actually. I’ll admit that taking tours of my own country has been a little bit low on my priority list, but I can’t seem to recall bumping into any thestrals during my time here. Even though you said you had allowed a few to settle here. Do you… still fear for your lives, even here?” A moment of silence ensued. I turned my head back and freed my eyes, to see Gown had stopped in her tracks, looking up at me in shock. Construct tilted her head at me. “I mean… never mind, that’s a pretty silly thing to ask, isn’t it? Since every other citizen here used to be Equestrian. They’d probably have you… yeah. That’s no good,” I decided. “I want a thestral in my cabinet.” “What?” exclaimed Construct immediately. “You cannot be serious! The Lu-” “The Lunar Corps is not an organisation the Free State will ever aid and abet, Second Minister, Dame Gown,” I interrupted. “I have no intention of going to war with Equestria. What I want to do is start breaking down this stigma that the thestrals have had imposed upon them. No species should be oppressed like that for a thousand years.” “That stigma is there for a very good-” I knew where that sentence was going – nowhere good. “Second Minister Construct!” I snapped. “I want you to consider your next words very carefully. Because if you say what I thought you were about to say, then I will have to respectfully ask you to leave. I don't care if you protest her membership of the Lunar Corps, but you will not demean her simply because she happened to be born as a particular tribe.” … This time, Construct was less deterred by my icy look. “…With respect, First Minister, I must protest your course of action. Placing a thestral in charge of any substantial amount of your government would, at best, cause immense strife within the Free State. At worst, it might spark a war with Equestria anyway.” “Not if they rescind their allegiance to their cause first,” I retorted. “That won’t matter to Equestria,” she replied evenly. “If they'll even know that - or care. To them, you’d be signalling your acceptance of their goals, and incredibly provocatively at that.” …Damn. That was right, wasn’t it? “…Mmm,” I eventually hummed, non-committally. “You do have a point. Bugger. Trust the Equestrian nobility to be too stupid to make that leap of logic. We’ll have to go about it… less drastically, then.” “How do you mean?” asked Construct. “…Later,” I finally decided. That had been my one and only idea for how to tackle the thestral issue, and it'd just been shot down. “I’ll need to think on it. Dame Gown, I… I suppose you are free to go.” “Thank you kindly, First Minister,” said Gown – who I noticed just a little too late was still undisguised. Erk. “Right! Moving on,” I said speedily, trying to control my own damn self, pointedly not staring anywhere near her as she turned and made her way out. “Uh… yes, healthcare. How are we doing on that so far?” “…I’m afraid I don’t know, First Minister,” said Construct, a little guiltily. “I haven’t visited the clinic recently. I can get that done after-” “No, no, don’t strain yourself,” I placated. “I’ll check it out this evening. Just… gut feeling? One clinic with one doctor good enough for now? For all… God, one thousand two hundred now, right? I hope we’re not running out of cough medicine.” “Perhaps an apprenticeship program might be a good idea,” said Construct – to which I gave a low, impressed whistle. “Damn. That actually is a good idea. Oh, what am I saying?” I touched my palm to my forehead in a ‘doi’ gesture. “Of course it is. You gave it to me five months ago, when you gave me your first report. That was always going to be the plan, right?” “Ah… yes, First Minister,” she said, with ears folded back. I raised an eyebrow – Construct apparently having forgotten that little tidbit – but pressed on regardless. “Mmm. You’ve already done… similar things with our citizens before, what with the farming and house-building we’ve all had to do. I’ll talk to Sawbones about it when I meet him.” I nodded firmly to myself. “Now. Ah… Christ, finally the last point. The citizenry.” “…Yes?” asked Construct. “What about them?” “General poll – how are they feeling? Fine? Happy with us? Hungry? Out for our blood? That kind of thing.” Construct had to think on that one for a while, apparently, judging by her intense blinking. “…I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’ve not had much time for small talk.” “Understandable,” I said. “It’s not really a big priority. I can just take a walk and accost my citizens with questions if need be. Just to get a sense of how they’re feeling. Maybe if there’s something come up that I need to deal with. Anyway… and what have they been doing? Anything specific that I might need to know?” “No, First Minister,” she replied. “Our labour brigades are set up again, and busy with constructing more housing.” “Mmm,” I nodded. “Incidentally, how are we on that front?” “We’re just about to break even. We have enough housing for one thousand and fifty – a few more days will have everypony in their bedrooms properly.” “Excellent news,” I said, smiling in approval. “Okay, once they’re done, I want you to size the construction brigade down to about… seventy, eighty, I want to say. Keep the most competent, and anyone who has it as their talent. Every other pony can go off and start doing their own things. Well,” I amended thoughtfully. “Until the harvest comes ‘round again.” I chuckle wryly. “We can make that a festival.” “I’ll note that down, First Minister,” said Construct. “Right.” Reflexively, I looked down at the sheaf in my hand, only to realise I’d already exhausted it. “Oh! We’re through. I suppose. Uh…” I frowned. “I’m not forgetting anything, am I? There’s… Construct, am I forgetting anything?” Construct frowned also. “I don’t believe so, Adam. Unless… what about the foals?” “What about them?” “Education?” “Oh fuck me.” I facepalmed, quite strongly. It was almost more slapping myself in the face. “Right. Yeah. We do have foals in the Free State, yes, and they do need teaching, yes. Good going, Inns. Guess I ought to thank you, Construct, for pulling my head out my arse. Yes… we’ll have to go find someone who knows how to deal with children, and how to teach them. Probably a schoolhouse might be a good idea to start building. Which reminds me,” I faux-snapped my fingers again, pointing them at Construct. “I’ll also need a name for secretary for Education too. Eventually, I mean. I think we can get away with teacher’s discretion for the time being.” “As you wish, Adam.” “Okay, okay.” I nodded, rubbing some fatigue from my eyes, and slumped back into my seat. “Second Minister, you are free to go. Come back to me when you have something to report. Preferably good news, but… I won’t hold my breath. Thank you.” Construct twitched her head upwards, her eyes narrowing briefly, before she eventually nodded in return and turned to leave. The door shut behind her, leaving me alone in my office for the first time in… Jesus, an hour? Holy cow, it felt so much longer… I turned to my desk, which was still a bloody mess and a half, and began taking the gist of what had just been discussed. In short, we had a lot to do, and I could do little of it single-handedly. Our food situation was no longer so dire, but I could not make the same mistake I did the first time – rationing was still going to be in effect until I knew, definitively, that our food was going to last to our next harvest no matter what – be it from another sudden influx of ponies, or blight, or rats, or us needing to trade large chunks of our stocks away for fucking machine parts. Regardless, with our farms doing okay, a large chunk of my overhead disappeared – I still had an appointment with a few sacks of grain and whatnot, but I could get that done pretty quickly. My cabinet was going to be stuffed to the brim with inexperienced ponies. That… I figured was more-or-less unavoidable, unless I wanted Blueblood running Foreign Affairs and Night Gown running Defense. Barring competent ponies running to the Free State for some reason or another asking for work, I was going to need to keep a close eye on my subordinates – at least until they learned enough for me to not need to coddle them so much. Most likely Construct was going to get a lot of the tard-wrangling duty. …Which, of course, meant that I was also going to have to select their subordinates, too – the ponies who would actually go out and do the boots-on-the-ground work, like inspecting the farms, building the houses, etc. etc. Those, at least, would need relatively little training – just doing what they were already doing, except also reporting their progress to the secretaries every now and then. Those secretaries were going to be damn busy ponies, I reckoned – and began fiercely regretting giving Construct Second Minister, instead of Domestic Affairs. Because that would have been the sensible thing to do… but then I’d only have Blueblood to talk sense into me. Anyway. The paper with the list of issues went away in a drawer, to be replaced with a… slightly more personal list. I’d written down some guidelines for how to deal with situations, taught to me by good old experience. - Consult with people with different viewpoints / expertise to you. - Consider any alternatives to a course of action. - Consider the consequences of committing to a course of action. - Plan ahead. - Expect unforeseen consequences of your actions. - Don't assume problems are 'definitively' solved by solutions. - Don’t assume solutions won’t cause more problems later. - Don’t forget the wider context of the problem you are trying to solve. It was a good reminder; very educational. So were the four names written at the bottom of the sheet. I sighed heavily, shaking my head as I pushed the paper away from me. I had nothing left to do in here – not by myself. Brainstorming a whole administration was no longer a one-man job – I was going to need more than myself to draft an entire constitution. That was going to be a job for my next cabinet meeting - one with more than three participants, with any luck.