Rainbow Dash darted skyward in a blue streak, soaring over the star-drenched spiraling towers of Val Roa.
Down below, along the edges of Plaza Topaz, a depot was filled to the brim with wagons and stagecoaches. A miniature courtyard lay in between the many different stations. Dozens of servants pitched tents and set up campfires beside their vehicles where they prepared to stand guard all night long. In front of a pair of ornate wooden coaches, Jake and Floydien mingled. The Constable layed out a sleeping mat, yawning so loud he caused the nearby campfires to flicker from the sound vibrations.
“Duaaaaaaaah.... 'Can't be done,' they said! 'A fatass moose?! Lying on a sleeping mat?!' Shark penis! I wanna see them balk now!”
“Hrmmmff...” Floydien glared across the way with a furrowed brow.
Jake tilted his head aside. “Don't tell me you're still steamed about your sister leaving you to freeze your tail off down here with the likes of me.”
“Floydien is hardly affected.”
“Still, you shoulda predicted that would happen.” Jake winked. “You are trying to be just as incognito as your buddies, after all.”
“So long as Floydien's boomer friends are experiencing comfort, then Floydien is fine.”
“Heh... so there is a feeling elk beneath all of those grumpy shit-smears after all.”
“Floydien doesn't understand the moose's spit.”
“Say... I just gotta ask...” Jake leaned forward, squinting. “Don't you ever sleep?”
Floydien glared. “No. Floydien doesn't.”
“Heh... No wonder your brain is so fartwise.”
“What what what?”
“Whoever it was who took the craddle-prod to your noggin', they certainly did a real number on you. They took away your memories, your smile, now your sleep?”
“Floydien has always been able to manage.”
“Is that so?” Jake produced something between a yawn and a burp. “Then remind me why you're here again?”
“Floydien needs to look after Floydien's friends—”
“Bullcrap. You care only about your stupid space ship.” Jake smiled droolingly. “Something's lured you into this city, and I doubt it's princess potty duty.”
“There's a shape shifting boomer queen with a lot of shimmer glimmer and—”
“Odds are stacked against you if you have any intention of finding Midnite Bastion, buddy.”
Floydien's eyebrow twitched. “That is the least of Floydien's desires.”
“Hey, so maybe you're a changed elk.” Jake shrugged. “You don't exactly want to shag her anymore. I get that.”
Floydien sighed, rolling his dull red eyes.
“But a piece of you is curious. At least admit that.”
Floydien was silent.
“If I lost a huge chunk of my past and suddenly found myself at the threshhold of where I last had it...” Jake flopped onto his massive side, farted, and lay still with a sigh. “...I'd be itching to recover my hoofprints too, even if they didn't mean didley-shit to me.”
“Floydien isn't the boomer charged with searching,” the elk muttered. “Floydien has no wings.”
“So?” Jake yawned while his ears went limp. “Go for a stroll. I won't kill you for it. Just keep your antlers off so nopony recognizes your... hrmmm... Sehlp-ness...”
Floydien's nostrils flared.
“Go on...” Jake drifted off to heavy, heavy sleep. “You know you want to...”
Floydien closed his eyes. His face tensed for a few seconds, and then he squinted one eye open.
Jake was dead still.
Slowly, Floydien stood up, turned around, and shuffled towards the wagons—
“Make one move towards your antlers and I'll introduce them to your colon,” Jake muttered.
With a groan, Floydien stormed angrily off in a random direction.
Jake's lips curved beneath his closed eyes as he nuzzled the sleeping mat.
“Tell the reprentatives from Zoram that we are looking into the issue thoroughly. It was not our intent to ignore their concerns with the taxation of their outlying colonies, but with the Coronation coming up, we have had to put a hold on the bi-annual review of the financial department.”
“Yes, Chancellor,” spoke a young secretary, scribbling onto a piece of parchment. She stood with a pen and paper at the far end of a spacious office overlooking the bronze and copper rooftops of Val Roa's Sandstone District. “And what of the naga ambassadors?”
“Nnngh...” A deer sat at her desk, rubbing her forehead with a weary hoof. A glittering diamond necklace hung around her petite head. “You mean the Lounge representatives are still insisting on holding an audience with the Council?”
“Affirmative.”
“Haven't they got a clue just what kind of a transitionary period we're in right now?”
“Many of the other representatives on the High Seat think that they are attempting to catch us off guard.”
“Our streets are filled to the brim with Soul Sentries. Thanks to Saikano, we couldn't possibly be any more on guard.”
“They're still expecting a response, Chancellor.”
“Set up an appointment tomorrow morning. After sunrise. I know how slow those reptiles are when it's still cold outside. Maybe it'll be my chance to catch them off guard.”
“Very well. Seven o'clock?”
“Better make it seven thirty. If I don't have muffin and milk, I'm liable to kill somedeer.”
A guard trotted up, clearing his throat. “Chancellor Fishberry, Representative Nilla is here to see you.”
“I'm rather busy at the moment...”
“She says she's here per request of a Royal Envoy.” The guard raised an eyebrow. “She mentioned Princess Kera Tin Mehjj of the Xonan Empire.”
Fishberry sat up straight, wiggling her little black nose. “Xonan Empire...?” Her eyes traced the lengths of her office. “I-I've never heard of such a place...”
“The name matches fabled places spoken of by the Lounge and Alafreons, Chancellor,” the secretary said. “Far west, across the Frozen Wastes.”
“Hrmmmm...” Fishberry rubbed her chin. “Still, this is the most inopportune time.”
“Val Roan law dictates that in any situation involving a foreign ambassador, the Council is to—”
“I'm quite aware of the law, secretary.”
“Yes, Chancellor. Of c-course, Chancellor.”
Fishberry motioned with her hoof. “Let Nilla in. She's a good gazelle. I've no reason to doubt her sincerity.”
Within the span of two minutes, the gazelle was making her way down the massive office and towards the ornate wooden desk belonging to the High Council's lead speaker.
“Chancellor, Madame...” Nilla curtsied. “I-I've come to request that the High Council give audience to a group of ambassadors tomorrow.” She looked up. “They come from a great distance, Chancellor—these Xonans—and judging from their disposition it would seem a wise thing for the Val Roans to pay them every bit of attention and respect.”
“Have they threatened you in any way, Nilla?”
“Erm... n-not exactly, Chancellor. But, as you well know, rumor is that the continents to the west have been beset with great turmoil and strife. It's likely that a great war has ended, and if the Xonans are the victors...”
“I see where you're going with this, Nilla.” Chancellor Fishberry nodded. “If it is in Val Roa's best interests, then—by all means—I will arrange for the ambassadors to speak to the Council.”
Nilla exhaled with relief. “That is very good, Chancellor.”
“My my, you seem besides yourself with stress.” Fishberry raised an eyebrow. “Is playing hostess not all it's cracked up to be, representative?”
“I certainly didn't expect foreign royalty to be this exotic.”
“It seems rather sudden and out of place for a Princess...”
“Kera Tin Mehjj...”
“—to visit our esteemed capital.” Fishberry scanned through several scrolls on her desk while talking. “Undoubtely, she had to have been aided by a local escort. Tell me, is there an interior representative assisting in these Xonans' arrival?”
“Yes, Chancellor. There is.”
“A name, Nilla. Give me a name, please.”
Nilla cleared her throat. “Erm... Duchess Arcanista of the House of Sehlp, Chancellor.”
“... ... ...” Fishberry's orange eyes darted up from the scrolls. “Of the Province Bountiful?”
Nilla nodded and nodded.
The secretary fidgeted nervously.
Fishberry exhaled long and hard. “I am not going to get any sleep this week...”