In the antiquated metropolis of Canterlot, among the clusters of independent structures not anchored to the main base, perched, or perhaps clung for dear life, Lord Goldenhoof’s Building Commission. Utterly juxtaposed to the gleaming spires of the central city district, it was a building noted not so much for its design or architectural aesthetics as for its prodigious length. If any questioned why such an unornamented extension held such fascination for Lord Goldenhoof they kept it to themselves.
In the 20th year of Princess Luna's return, Mind’s Eye was a senior clerk at the Commission.
A perfectly content middle class unicorn, it had not been too long since he had found and brought the most lucrative of all contracts to Lord Goldenhoof, granting the commission exclusive rights to maintenance of the Feather road.
Recently struck by a flurry of weather related incidents due to apathetic pegasi storm brigades, the long and only major supply chain linking Canterlot to the griffon capital demanded the constant attention of construction crews and created excellent profits from paranoid merchants looking to get their wares across in whole pieces.
Mind’s Eye was not a particularly ambitious unicorn nor a hard worker, so it concerned him little that Goldenhoof had not given him anything to do afterwards.
Whenever the small pompous aristocrat happened upon Mind lounging behind his desk he would often say, “You’re a valuable asset to this commission, keep up the good work.”
Initially Mind was worried that he should at least appear to be doing something but as the months passed on and his bank account grew steadily he merely replied, “Thank you, I will.”
Thus Mind spent most of his time at the commission recalling the years gone by at other institutions and original desires to pursue magical research. When he discovered that colleges did not admit mediocre applicants free of charge and the necessary investment of effort on his part would be massive those desires rapidly crumbled. Mind was now middle aged and earning a respectable salary for someone not actually doing any work.
There was however the future to consider, Mind would soon have to plan for the day of his retirement, and not get paid for not doing work. Perhaps, he thought, out of consideration for the millions of bits being generated by the Feather road contract, Lord Goldenhoof might offer him a partnership, or at least a share of the profits. Mind’s Eye was no good at asking about things like that, if his experience at previous commissions was any indicator, he would be informed that his usefulness had been outlived and subsequently taken off the company payroll.
Over the course of the week Mind contemplated his admittedly avaricious request. How to phrase his words in such a way so as to achieve the most beneficial result, for him that was. Surely Goldenhoof would acknowledge Mind’s accomplishments, though they numbered few, and realize the shy unicorn should enjoy a higher position of authority. One day, just as Mind had worked up the courage to speak to his superior the Lord unexpectedly moved things along.
“You truly are a credit to this commission,” the stubby little thing said, then paused. “Do you have a moment? There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”
Mind nodded eagerly and followed Goldenhoof into his hideously decorated but enviable office space.
“Celestia blesses us for your presence at this Commission,” the pudgy fellow squeaked grandly. “It may not have seemed like it, but we were having quite a difficult time before you came along. We had some impressive projects for certain, but only minor successes and too many setbacks. Far out east for example, our presence on Papua New Whinny to improve routes of travel for commerce has so far yielded underwhelming results. Every year I put my best pony, Full Throttle, in charge of operations yet despite staggering investments of time and money the trade routes only get more bogged down. Now with your very, very profitable Feather Road contract, the Commission is in a much better position to properly address such issues. I think it’s time you were rewarded.”
Mind’s Eye was on the edge of his seat, anxiously waiting for the Lord to finish.
“I’d like you to take over the New Whinny account from Full Throttle.”
Mind’s anticipation sank through his seat and feebly curled up on the floor. “M-my Lord, I-I couldn’t..”
“Nonsense!” The Lord chirped, “Full Throttle will be more than pleased with his final paycheck, despite how heart wrenchingly difficult the New Whinny contract was. With the right attitude you should find his position to be a suitable challenge.”
All Mind’s Eye could do was sit there in shock and try not to hyperventilate as Goldenhoof pulled a massive box of documentation out from under his desk.
“Here is all the important records and information you’ll need concerning the Commission’s presence on New Whinny. You’re a fast reader,” he guessed, “you can read it all en-route.”
Mind looked confused, “en-route? You mean to…”
“Papua New Whinny of course!” The Lordship slurred out in a fit of giggles. “What a funny chap you are, where else could you possibly be going?”
Mind attempted to find his voice but what came out was little more than a stupefied stutter, “but, my Lord, New Whinny is far off the Equestrian mainland, how will I get there?”
Goldenhoof smiled regally, “I’ve arranged your transportation off coast via ferry from Eastward Dockyards. I couldn’t expect you to swim there now could I?”
Being Goldenhoof it would come as no surprise if that were his expectation but he did not stop there. “Getting to the Dockyards I’ve left to your own initiative. With the same cunning prowess you fetched the Feather Road contract it should be foal’s play to hitch a balloon ride at a fair rate. But the choice is your own. I myself will be heading out shortly for the New Whinny capital, Port Maresby. I expect to see you there within a week.”
With that Goldenhoof trotted out the office but not before flashing a friendly look at the disorientated Mind.
“Happy travels.”
***
The next morning, saddlebags overflowing with paperwork, Mind’s Eye departed for the Eastern Dockyards. With some modest effort and gold bits he had managed a ride with a rather snarky earth pony balloonist and three hours later arrived at the east coast. Finding the designated ferry had been of little challenge. The smallest, most run down hunk of metal that qualified as a vessel only by the most generous application of the term was the most Goldenhoof would spare. The captain, Mind had unfortunately discovered, did not intend to sail straight to Port Maresby but to the northern tip of the island where the long trek to the capital would commence. Nothing short of two hundred bits would change the ferry’s course, so Mind begrudgingly took his seat and off they went.
As the boat rocked and swayed against the current Mind took it upon himself to sift through the paperwork. It was quite the record, nearly four decades worth of the Commission’s work dating back to before the return of Nightmare Moon. Apparently settlers had arrived on the island around fifty years prior and realized the potential for cultivating exotic fruits, much to the chagrin of the indigenous zebra population. A merchant by the name of Bargain Hunter had hired the Commission early on to devise a more efficient and organized travel network across the entire island. Several million bits later, statistics showed that harvest was arriving in Port Maresby consistently behind schedule.
Shortly afterwards, the royal council in Canterlot took a brief interest and hired several independent contractors, Goldenhoof included, to clear green space, build roads and bridges, drain swamps and do everything a monarchy believed would help improve the situation. According to current figures, the result of this was that it took over a month for the goods, thoroughly rotten, to arrive.
Every so often Mind wold look up, see nothing but open water then return to his reading, he hoped that the trip would take longer but soon enough they clambered up on the rocky shores of Papua New Whinny. Mind’s guide, a rather stoic looking Pegasus, was waiting not too far off and after short introductions, Guile was his name, they departed for the jungle edge.
After a short hike Mind recognized the superfluous design of a Goldenhoof Commission centre nestled in between the trees. Although difficult to make out amongst the heavy foliage and swarms of blood coloured flying insects, Mind noticed upon further inspection a cluster of smaller formal looking buildings, most likely a census and excise office.
While making their way through the dense brush, uselessly waving their hooves at the clouds of insects, Mind also saw that the main building was right next to a large river of unusually blackish water from which massive bubbles sluggishly rose. A bridge sturdy in appearance only stretched out across the swamp, which Mind also observed, covered a large area beyond the trees.
Guile rapped on the door to the office and an irritable official quickly opened. “Hurry! Get inside or you’ll let all the bloodbuzzers in!”
“Bloodbuzzers? You mean they drink pony blood?” Mind worriedly asked.
“If you’re fool enough to stand around and let them,” came the testy reply, “Now get in!”
No further encouragement required he stepped inside, the door hastily shut behind him.
“State your business.”
Mind told him and added that if they didn’t spend all their money on alcohol they could stock up on insect repellent.
The official sneered, “you should be more concerned about how you’re getting across the swamp. Tide’s coming up and the path to Port Maresby will be blocked for two weeks if you don’t get a move on.”
Mind took him for his word, although a wait of two weeks was preferable to what inevitably lay ahead, and hurriedly left the building. Guile was already flying across the swamp, not opting to sit and wait.
Mind galloped after him over the bridge. Although it would have been nice just to teleport or levitate over to the patch of reeds on the other side, his skill with the craft was heavily lacking and a short jog over a rickety set of planks was decidedly better than accidentally falling into the flow of tar.
Never having been in good shape Mind stopped halfway to catch his breath, the saddles of Commission materials weighing down heavily upon his back. The dark river water lapped at the planks, coagulating like a thick gluey paste and having washed over Mind’s hooves, stuck him to the spot.
Panic stricken, he fumbled about trying to loosen the tight grip of the black mud but to no avail. Guile was still floating ahead, closing in fast on the reeds of the opposite side.
“Help!” Mind cried out. “I’m stuck!”
Guile kept going as if nothing had been said. “Yes sir, you need to lose weight.”
Mind’s Eye knew he was a few pounds over and had meant to exercise more and eat less, but in his current predicament there existed no diet in Equestria that could offer timely aid. But upon reflection, Mind realized that the Pegasus intended he drop his bags of documentation, for Guile was no longer carrying much of the supplies he had with him previously.
With a sigh, Mind threw the bags of Commission notes into the glop, and felt the plank under him rise a third of an inch, sufficient to free him from the mud's clutches. With an agility born of extreme fear, Mind began leaping after Guile, dropping onto every third plank, and springing up before the river gripped him.
In twenty three leaps, Mind’s Eye crashed through the reeds onto the solid ground behind Guile, and found himself in the jungles of Papua New Whinny. He could hear behind him a slurping sound as the bridge, and his saddlebags representing forty years worth of Commission affairs, was consumed by the rising flood of dark filth, never to be seen again.