//------------------------------// // Mission Briefing // Story: Casus Foederis // by Walt2012 //------------------------------// Casus Foederis © 2014 by Walter Reimer MLP:FiM is the property of Hasbro, Inc. Abject apologies to the ghost of Keith Laumer. Chapter 1: Mission Briefing " . . . Although the untutored laypony may not realize it, or at least may doubt it, the hardworking diplomats and bureaucrats of the Corps labor tirelessly to implement the Princess' will and bring harmony to Equestria's neighbors. A fine example of this is the behind-the-scenes efforts of Ambassador Cross Purposes in helping facilitate the Camel-Kudu Alliance in 1020 . . . " - Corps Diplomatique Equestrienne, Official History The valley was a kaleidoscope of various shades of green, with meadows of grass and wildflowers interrupting wide, dense stretches of old-growth forest. Birds flew overhead against a sky dotted with fluffy cumulus clouds, and orchids added splashes of color to the limbs of the trees. Through it all, a wide river tumbled over rapids to the northeast and slowed to a broad meander. Suddenly, the valley seemed to shake, and the river and the birds froze in mid-flow and mid-flight. Harsh, jagged diagonal lines appeared, marring the valley’s perfection, and everything went blue. “Blast it, Power Point!” the Trade Attache snapped, giving his unfortunate unicorn aide a hoof to the side of the head. “Can’t you hold an image for more than three minutes?” “Sorry, sir,” the unicorn said, “but it’s a bit of a strain.” The blue faded as his horn stopped glowing, revealing the scarred and none too clean deck of the ship. “I’m still – “ “Seasick. Yes, we all know,” and Trade Attache Swap Meet turned to the other ponies in the cabin. “Anyway, gentlecolts, that’s the main bit of contention. The Yodelinda Valley. Beautiful countryside, rare flowers and animals found hardly anywhere else – “ “Stuff it, Swap,” the Ambassador said. “Save the travelogues for the brochures. The Yodelinda Valley’s a strategic piece of property between the Camel Sultanates and the Kuduvanian Patriarchy.” Cross Purposes, the Ambassador Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary of Equestria to Kuduvania, gave his assembled staff his personal variation on a Purposeful Grimace (1778-j). Unfortunately, his personal variation on the venerable expression made the slightly built, pudgy unicorn look slightly dyspeptic. “Tensions between the two nations are increasing, and the Foreign Minister has it direct from the Princesses themselves – “ “No war, eh?” the Military Attache, Colonel Mess Kit, snorted (523-a). “Waste of time, if you ask me. We should just let the Camels and the Kudu fight it out, and take the Valley for ourselves, eh?” The pegasus gave the Ambassador a Cheeky Grin Between Stallions of the World (276-s(1)), but hastily recovered himself as Cross Purposes glowered at him. “Colonel, the Corps Diplomatique Equestrienne is devoted, heart and soul, to the maintenance of peaceful relations just short of war. Get that through that thick skull of yours. You’re no Commander Hurricane, despite what your mother may have told you.” His horn flared with a glow of bilious green as he straightened his semi-formal Vest, Early-Mid-Afternoon to its proper alignment with his cutie mark, which depicted two diametrically-opposed arrows. “We’re trying to prevent a war, not encourage one.” “May I make a suggestion, Your Excellency?” quavered the Third Secretary. “What is it, Mulegan?” Cross Purposes asked in tones of Barely Suppressed Contempt (4073-a). Ben Mulegan fiddled with his own vest, only to make it look more askew than usual. “Well, it seems to me that since the Camels occupy the Valley, why not ask them to trade a bit of territory they don’t want to the Kudus?” His vest slipped again as he twitched nervously, revealing his own cutie mark of a slice of toast impaled on a bottle of milk. “Such as?” Swap Meet asked in a Condescending Manner (607-q). Mulegan looked diffident. “Um, well, that is, er – “ “What Mr. Mulegan is trying to say,” his aide said, “is that the Kudus may be willing to take the Mireland in exchange for not engaging in hostilities with the Camels over the rights to the valley.” The tall and athletically-built earth pony nodded to the sallow unicorn, who gulped and nodded. “What Reintief said.” Mulegan’s ears drooped. Cross Purposes considered the suggestion, his expression one of Deep Thought (8-b), leavened with an appropriate amount of Unwillingness to Appear Too Condescending (1025-a) . “Mulegan, that is the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard. Have you seen the Mireland?” he demanded as the unfortunate Third Secretary wilted like a flower in a blast furnace. “Nothing but volcanic fumaroles, sulfurous gases and hot mud pits. No! Gentlecolts, we must think outside the paddock on this!” There was a pause as the members of the Mission thought through possible solutions. They all looked up attentively as the Ambassador crashed a hoof against the deck. “I have it!” the envoy declared. “We simply persuade the Camels to offer a parcel of land to the Kudu in exchange for their unrestricted rights to the Valley – say, the Mireland region.” His aides dutifully applauded the envoy’s originality and initiative. “Wonderful idea, Sir!” “Brilliant!” “Way to go, Boss!” The Ambassador basked briefly in the approbation and ritualized grimaces of his subordinates, bestowing on them his own Gracious Acknowledgement (455-r), mingled with undertones of Noblesse Oblige (241-h) before quieting the group with an upraised hoof. “Now, now, let us not get too carried away, fellows. After all, we may be putting the ore cart before the Diamond Dog. The Sultan Shaykh an-Baykh will be arriving for talks with His Supremacy, and it’s up to me – er, the Equestrian Embassy, to keep them talking as long as possible.” “To keep relations just short of war, Sir?” one bright young aide asked, sotto voce. The Trade Attache gave the colt a dig in the ribs and whispered, “And to pad out the old expense account. Haven’t you learned anything yet, Privet?” “Golly, Mr. Meet, real field work’s a lot different than what I learned in the Academy, is all.” “Cross Purposes is a master at this. Celestia will turn gray before – “ Swap Meet suddenly broke off and grinned innocently (26-b) as he caught his superior glaring at him. The Ambassador harrumphed. “Part of our negotiations will be to make sure that the Embassy is fully capable of hosting the summit talks.” “Good luck with that,” Mess Kit said, gesturing around at the barely seaworthy ship that currently housed the Embassy of Equestria. “You’d think the Kudu could at least have gotten the stink of rotting seaweed out of the woodwork.” “You, a military pony, unused to sleeping rough, Colonel?” Cross Purposes asked. The Pegasus cleared his throat. “Not at all, Your Excellency. Nothing like bivouacking on a wild cloud, or among the earth ponies and unicorns in the infantry, no sir.” “Then stop complaining, or you’ll be the one holystoning the decks. Take heart, fellows! We’ll get through this, maintaining peace and settling things to my – er, to everyone’s satisfaction.” He glanced up at an atonal blare of trumpets. “Ah. That’ll be His Supremacy. Confounded non-ponies – can’t they play trumpets decently?” He led his retinue to the passageway leading to the top deck, leaving Mulegan and Reintief bringing up the rear. “I say, Reintief,” the earth pony gushed, “the Ambassador really has a penetrating intellect, doesn’t he?” Reintief tapped a hoof against his chin. “I notice a decided shortage of wet paper bags around, Mr. Mulegan, so I guess your theory will have to stay unproven.” “Nonsense, Reintief! You really should have more faith in the Ambassador’s negotiating skills. Cross Purposes cut his teeth, peace talks-wise, when he fought off three trained Griffin negotiators at the fabled Table-shape Argument during the dispute over the Haylee Mills.” “I think that the Ambassador may have met his match in the Supreme Patriarch,” Reintief remarked. “I hear he has an unfortunate tendency to gore enemies on his horns, then incinerate them with his magic.” “The Kudu can do magic?” Mulegan asked. At Reintief’s nod he seemed to get a bit paler. “That wasn’t in the briefing scrolls, and as we know those are fully comprehensive, what you just said must be just an old mare’s story.” He gave his head a toss to flip his mane back into shape and proceeded to the upper deck, leaving Reintief alone. The earth pony glanced back at his broken-sword cutie mark for a moment before following. The ship that housed the Embassy had its sails furled, which allowed the southern sun to fall unimpeded on the main deck. Shades had been rigged by the crew, but it wasn’t doing much to fend off the heat. From the mainmast, the banner of the Two Royal Sisters hung limply. The crew was a group of twenty small antelopes, much smaller than the tall kudu and only half the size of the ponies assembling on the deck. One wearing a leather circlet trotted up to the Ambassador and said, “’Ere you are. Ze Patriarch, he iz waiting.” “Very well. Invite him aboard,” and as the small deer walked away Cross Purposes muttered, “Confounded Pudu. Don’t know why the Kudu have them around . . . “ The Counselor caught his boss’s words. “The, er, Pudu are sort of, well, that is – “ “They’re slaves,” Reintief interjected. “I’ll hear none of that!” the Ambassador snapped. “The Princesses deplore slavery. These unfortunate Pudu are an underclass, nothing more. They do many of the jobs that the Kudu can’t.” “Like sailing?” one junior aide ventured. “Exactly,” and the Ambassador allowed the young fellow to smile before adding, “but remember that the Kudu hardly notice them, so we won’t either – in the interest of amity and in the best traditions of the Corps. Remember the CDE’s motto.” “Non fluctus,” the rest solemnly intoned. “Don’t make waves.” The Embassy staff came to attention and bowed as another horn fanfare blared and a tall antelope with two twisted horns on his head strode onto the gangway. He wore a light blue silk cape over his withers and chains of amulets and charms in gold and mother-of-pearl hung from his neck. The kudu looked around at the ship, and casually kicked the pudu captain off the gangway and into the waters of the harbor. His way thus unimpeded, he walked onto the deck. The Ambassador and the Embassy party bowed. “Your Supremacy,” Cross Purposes said, “I greet you to – er, aboard – the Equestrian Embassy to Kuduvania, in the Princess’ names, and – “ “Yimbombollabu,” the tall kudu grumbled his name. “Kuduvania strong, proud nation. Don’t need no prissy ponies or their poncey Princesses.” He looked around, and the much smaller pudus immediately vanished. There was a cacophony of slammed hatches, leaving two of their mates behind. Those two leaped overboard rather than face the wrath of the Kuduvanian leader. There was a concerted gasp from the ponies on the deck. “Now see here,” Colonel Mess Kit started, only to subside at a raised hoof from the Ambassador. The AE&MP assayed an Amused Whinny (2386-D), taking care to do it behind his hoof in the time-honored Insincere Gesture in the Presence of Inferiors (2386-K) variation. This drew admiring gazes from the junior members of the Embassy as Cross Purposes said, “Your Supremacy makes a little joke,” he tittered. “Without the Princesses to raise the Sun and Moon – “ “You ponies are idiots,” the kudu leader said with a nonchalant flip of his hoof. “Sun and Moon rise and fall as they will. Princesses just do fancy light show and fool you.” His Supremacy turned around, missing the Ambassador’s Outraged Look (444-f) and looking around at the ship. “Like the ship. Rotting seaweed good odor for ponies. Reminds them of their place when the Sultan gets here,” and he concluded this by spitting expertly over the rail. “Sultan here tomorrow,” and his horns glowed, sending a Jacob’s Ladder of miniature lightning bolts dancing between them. “Ah, er,” Cross Purposes stammered at the display. “Sultan give up Yodelina Valley, or there be war drums,” and the lightning grew a bit brighter and more sustained. “The Corps Diplomatique – “ “Kudus have great army.” His Supremacy was clearly warming to his subject. “Crush the stupid Camels, and decorate my throne with Sultan’s head.” He gave a final contemptuous snort and stepped back onto the gangway. He paused to look over his shoulder at the Ambassador, who gaped openmouthed back at him. “You come to dinner at Sundown Song,” and he left before a suitable reply could be made. A group of junior aides, led by the Chief of Mission and the Military Attache, clustered around the Ambassador as Mulegan took Reintief aside. “Good heavens, Reintief,” Mulegan said as he mopped his forehead with a lace hoofkerchief, “Ambassador Cross Purposes certainly has his work cut out for him.” “Judging from the edges on His Supremacy’s horns,” Reintief observed, “His Excellency had better be in top form, or his work won’t be the only thing cut out of him.”