//------------------------------//
// Guest Tale: Captain Doo by Comma-Kazie 
// Story: Tales From the Phoenix Empire 
// by Chengar Qordath 
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Appleoosa was a sight for sore eyes—even off-kilter ones like mine.

It was a small enough little town that I had to double-check before banking down for a landing. Contrary to what some ponies thought, mirages can affect you at any altitude, and it had taken me a little longer than usual to familiarize myself with the area. In the best of conditions, the desert frontier could play tricks on the mind; factor in the blooming afternoon heat on a mind already weary from a full morning of surveying, and it was understandable that a pony could pass over the town 200 meters above the ground.
 
This little town was just getting onto its hooves. Honestly, I was a little amazed that they’d built up as much as they had. The starting population of a few hundred ponies, gryphons, and zebras would have been enough of a strain without an underground reservoir; planting an orchard large enough to sustain it was right out. The best they’d managed so far was a few acres of long-suffering and sun-baked orchard, and even those had been painstakingly transplanted from a town near Canterlot. 

Not all of them had survived, either. It wasn’t as bad as my (brief) attempt to nurture a potted plant, but unrelenting heat and limited water had killed a few trees. It looked like some of the Appleoosans had started cutting the dead ones down for firewood, as a few of the ones closer to town had notch marks in the trunk and axes and saws leaning against them, abandoned until the temperature dropped in the evening.

A few beads of sweat trickled down across my eyes as I flitted—fluttered—okay, forcefully inserted myself at the town limit, and for the umpteenth time since arriving here, I quietly thanked my family for the recent addition to my gear. When he got word I’d be deploying in a desert, my brother had ‘borrowed’ my canteens and gotten them both enchanted with some kind of cooling spell. I forgot the name almost as soon as he’d mentioned it, but all I really needed to know was they now instantly chilled its contents to 3° Centigrade. Cirrus always preferred practical gifts, and he’d really outdone himself with that one. 

I’d always enjoyed a few extra luxuries on account of having traders for a brother and father, and over the years I’d gotten some additional equipment from them that the Guard usually wouldn't provide. Never anything illegal of course, but one of the truths about military life is that your equipment is usually provided by the lowest bidder. 

I got my canteen out and tilted my head back, catching the last few mouthfuls of gloriously cold water. As I did, my lazy eye caught a hint of movement off to the side. All things considered, I was thirsty enough that I was willing to brush off whomever for a few more mouthfuls of water; I never meant any disrespect, and luckily, everyone out here would understand that water trumped decorum every time. Nonetheless, I swallowed as quickly as thirst would allow before turning to the newcomer. 

I was met by the widest, most cheerful smile I’d seen since my nephew had been born. A pair of wide, green eyes greeted me, shielded from Sunbeam’s—er, sunbeams—by a brown stetson. The stallion had a matching vest which, if I’m honest, complimented his amber coat rather nicely.

“Afternoon, Captain!” he said, leaning a little too close into my personal bubble.

Not that it bothered me. Some of my squadmates might have been put off by him, but he had this infectiously bubbly personality that was hard to not like. “Hello, Braeburn.” 

He tipped his hat to me. “Ah thought Ah saw you makin’ your way back. Hope Ah didn’t spook ya none.”

I chuckled at that, shaking my head. After the mess with that ice drake up in the Frozen North, being snuck up on didn’t bother me at all. Much to Cirrus’s chagrin, but he’ll get over it.

“Well, no harm, no foul.” Braeburn brushed off his stetson before putting it back on his head. “Say … speakin’ of fouls, Ah don’t think Ah ever gave you the grand tour.”

I politely shook my head. “No, I don’t think you did.” I already knew the layout pretty well, but I didn’t see any reason to decline. “I’m done with my assignment for the morning, so why not?”

“All right!” He reared up and actually whinnied, and it was right then that I remembered where I recognized him from. “Here's your inside look at Aaaaa—”

My hoof snapped up and hastily plugged his mouth before he could deafen me. “Your beautiful little town, yes,” I finished for him. I remembered hearing this welcoming cry from the other side of the train station, back when my company first arrived. I can forgive a little enthusiasm in a shout, but this guy could out-shout a drill instructor.

“Hmph hnm hmph?” he asked.

I removed my hoof carefully. “Please, lead the way. I just need to top off my water first.”

“Awrighty then!” Braeburn led the way, seemingly not off-put in the slightest by my interruption or the mouthful of sandy gauntlet I’d just treated him to. Oops. I felt a little bad, but by the same token, I rather needed my hearing.

After a quick stop by the well, he led the way through town. Although I wouldn’t say it out loud, there really wasn’t too much to see. Sure, Appleoosa was a frontier settlement, but it actually looked like something right out of Daring Do or The Waco Colt: a few rows of shops, houses and other such buildings, separated by a few streets and surrounded on all sides by sand and mesas. Hay, an honest-to-goodness tumbleweed actually rolled past us as we trotted down the way, making its way towards the train tracks at the end of the road, and even the wide-brimmed hats worn by a lot of Appleoosans looked like something from a bygone era.

Braeburn loved every bit of it. “This here is Mane Street—or leastaways, it will be once we get some in some cobblestones an’ proper signs.”

“A street sign?” I couldn’t help but laugh a little at that. “You really think somepony could get lost in Appleoosa?”

“Well, not now,” he conceded. “But someday down the line. We gotta think ahead, after all!”

“Points for that, I suppose.” I shrugged, and noticed a pile of planks and pipes off to the side. “What’s that for?”

His eyes lit up so brightly that I’d swear they shifted to a different shade of green. “That there's gonna be our water tower. Anything that ain’t fer drinking is gonna be up there, so that’ll help take some pressure off our wells.”

I could only imagine. Lieutenant Strata knew more about the water table than I did, but in a climate this arid, it’s instinctive to want to save as much water for drinking as possible. “Have you ever had to implement a water ration?”

“Not yet—and Empress willing, we’ll never have to.” The prayer in his tone was subtle, but definitely there. “We’ve got the plans for rationing though, and yer geologist has been helpin’ us look fer new aqua-fers, so it looks like we’ll be okay until yer dam project goes up.” He paused, then shot me a grin. “Pardon mah language; Ah mean yer darn project.”

I didn’t give him the satisfaction of groaning in reply. I’d learned long ago from Cirrus that the more I reacted to his bad jokes, the more he’d make them. “How does the dam figure into your outlook on the town's growth?”

Sure enough, he didn’t try any further jokes. Yet. “Well, we figure we'll have a whole passel of new folks comin' in once the dam's finished, an’ it'll help our orchards get irrigated, too. We could double our crop of apples—maybe even triple.”

Which in turn would go a long way towards weaning Appleoosa off of food deliveries from other parts of the Empire. It would still take the better part of a decade for this venture to bear fruit—literally, in this case.

The trader in me wondered why the Appleoosans had set up the town to rely on their namesake crop. Orchards and arid climates didn’t mix all that well under the best of circumstances, and more desert-friendly plants like prickly pear cacti or blue agave would be easier to grow while being much more profitable to export, when they got to a point to do so.

It was ultimately their call, I suppose—or at least the call of whichever Imperial planner had signed off on this expedition. I’m a civil engineer, not an agricultural one, so it was my job to help them build the dam they needed to raise the plants they wanted. My wings flitted in a shrug as I turned back to Braeburn. “Are there any other big development plans, aside from the dam?”

“Nothin’ else like that. The rest is just what you see, buildin’ up the rest of the town. We're looking to start a county fair here—start some rodeo competitions and the like, and maybe start cider production once we get enough of an apple surplus.”

“Oooh, now you're talking.” That sounded amazing, especially on this assignment. Regulations aside, the only thing that would make my job better would be doing it with ice-cold cider at hoof. “How long do you think it’ll be before you start brewing?”

“Well…” I blinked in surprise as his face fell. And not just in ‘the cider is gone’ disappointment (which, admittedly, would leave me pretty down too), but genuine anxiety. 

“What?” I asked. When Braeburn didn’t immediately answer, I nudged him with my wing. “Come on, what is it?”

He sighed and straightened his hat. “We're havin’ a mite bit of trouble with the buffalo. Seems like they don't much care for the dam project.”

From the tone of his voice, it sounded like more than a ‘mite bit.’ I kept my face carefully neutral as I pressed him. “What’s going on?”

“It sounds like the dam’s gonna end up flooding a patch o’ land that the buffalo care about, an’ Ah don’t think they aim t’ give it up. Their Chief Thunderhooves came in an’ raised a right ruckus about it with the praetor one time, talkin’ about how it’d been the grounds of his father, an’ his father before him, an’ his father before him, an’ his father before him, an’ his father before him, an’—well, you get the idea.”

“Yeah, it sounds like it goes back a ways.” My smile became more strained as I felt a cold pit in my stomach that had nothing to do with my canteens. “And the town won’t survive without the dam, will it?”

Braeburn shook his head sadly. “The whole town might go under in a few years. All our hard work just… Ah can't even stand t’ think of it.” He frowned, glancing at the orchard behind us as we turned down the street. “And this is probably the only spot for miles around that could support the orchard we already have—an’ even then, that’s probably only ‘cause we’re as close to the river as we are.”

“Damn.” I rubbed my face in exasperation. “Not another one.”

“Another what, ma'am?”

“It’s…” I sighed. Sugar-coating it wouldn’t do the situation here any favors. “Imperial history, is all. It’s an ugly cycle. There were a couple of other settlements like this in other cultures. More often than not, the beings there didn't like the intrusion. The ones that didn't get out of the way were just kind of stepped over.” I didn’t offer details, and I gave thanks when he didn’t ask for them.

His ears drooped even lower. “Were there, uh, any stories that had a happy ending for everypony? And uh, every—one?”

I chewed my lip, scouring my memory as quickly as I tried to remember the Empire’s various expansions. Gryphonia had been the first to have the dubious honor of being ‘added’ to the Equestrian Empire, being an old, traditional foe. The history books have to be taken with a grain of salt, granted, but the gryphons attacked first after the old Queen Celestia died. From the sound of things, they hoped that the new regent would be softer pickings. 

Instead, they had avoided extinction. Barely.

After that had come the downfall of the Zebrican Empire, the pacification of the camels, the extinction of the changelings linked to Chrysalis … hay, if I had to guess, things with the caribou up north had only gone as smoothly as they had due to Governor Cadenza’s mediation.

“Ah'm guessin' that's a 'no', then,” Braeburn said after a couple of minutes. 

“Weeeelllllll…” I drew out the word as much as I could, scrambling to find something good to point to. “The Scharfrekrallen Pass was a concession.”

He stared blankly at me. I guess it figured he wouldn't know about that one; it was a relatively small detail in the war with Gryphonia, and—while I hated to stereotype—probably not one a farmer would care about anyway.

“So once that war ended,” I continued, trying to end this little tangent as quickly as possible, “it was Equestrian territory anyway—and the gryphons were able to adjust well enough! Mostly.” I forced my eyes into alignment to give him the most reassuring smile I could muster. “But that was a long time ago, and that was with gryphons, not buffalo!”

Braeburn looked less than reassured. In fact, he looked halfway ready to panic. “W-what're we gonna do?! We don't want no war or anythin'. Hay, them buffalo seem pleasant enough folk, but we don't want our town t'go under. It's our home!”

It was probably a good thing I had become an engineer. I was almost afraid to think about the kind of damage I could do as a diplomat or psychologist. “War's not going to happen! It's—look, the stuff with the gryphons was completely different. Besides, we already have a treaty with the buffalo.”

“Oh.” He visibly calmed down, although it wasn’t hard to see he was still on edge. “Well, that's good, innit?”

I thought carefully before answering. “It’s … a very good start.”

“That's great!” He beamed at me in the fastest emotional turnaround I’d ever seen. “Ah reckon I'll go tell Sheriff Silverstar there's nothing to worry 'bout. Thanks, Captain!”

It took a few seconds for me to process that, and by the time it clicked, he was halfway across the street. I launched after him in a panic and wrapped a wing around his shoulder. “WHY don't I tell him? Later?” I tried to point him away from the sheriff’s office as subtly as I could. “I have a report to give him anyway about a thing. In the place. From that time.” 

Unfortunately for me, he got the hint about as well as the idea of an ‘indoor voice.’ “Oh, don’t you worry yerself about it! Ah can let him know there ain’t no problem, an’ Ah’ll even let him know t’ expect yer report soon!” 

More unfortunate still, he kept right on going in spite of—well, me. In hindsight, I should have seen that coming, since anything short of full plate mail probably wouldn't have slowed down a pony used to pulling a plow. I had to think fast “Nonono! Really, I can get it myself. Besides, we’re still doing the tour of the town, right? Tell me about ... uh…” I turned and pointed at the first building I saw. “This charming establishment!

He beamed at me. “Why, that there's the local cathouse! Mah cousin Goldie Delicious owns the place.”

Oh.

Dear. 

Gods.

I had no words. I really didn’t. I just stood there, smile frozen on my face and hoping the ground would open beneath me just to get me out of there.

“Eeyup. She’s probably the sweetest mare around, too.” Braeburn nodded far too proudly for the words that had left his mouth. “All those poor cats would’ve starved or died o’ thirst.”

“...right!” What else could I have said at that point? “ANYWAY! I was actually pointing just a little to the left.” I whirled around to the building behind us, confident that with that awkwardness out of the way, things could only get better.

“That's the local waterin’ hole, the Salt Block!” Braeburn’s smile didn’t slip an inch as patron sailed through the swinging doors, stumbling to get back to his hooves long after he’d hit the ground. 

Desperately hoping that the third time was the charm, I shifting my hoof over to the right, pointing to a building two doors down.

“An’ that's the sheriff's office and local jail.”

That at least made sense—keeping the drunk tank close to the saloon would probably keep response times to a minimum. And, more relevant to me, I now knew which building to avoid for a while. I kept my foreleg around Braeburn, trying to avoid looking like I was dragging him away while I dragged him away. “Very nice, thanks for the tour! Maybe we should go for a flight, next? I bet you haven’t seen the dam site, have you?”

“Uh…” He stared back at me, lifting his hat to scratch his head. “When you say ‘we,’ y'do know I don't have no wings?”

Details. I almost suggested that he just hop on my back for a quick flight, but I caught myself at the last minute. Having trained in full combat armor, I could do a Plus One flight easily enough, especially with the thermals around to give me a quick and easy boost, but from what I’d seen around Appleoosa, Braeburn would probably turn redder than the apples on his flank if I suggested he get on my back.

I guess communal barracks and facilities had made me a bit accustomed to the idea of a nonexistent personal bubble. And, seeing that even the gryphons, with all their feathers, wore clothes out here in the desert, the cultural pendulum was more on the side of extreme prudishness rather than casually platonic closeness.

Or maybe they just liked the hats. Honestly, it was anypony’s guess.

Either way, I decided to nip that problem in the bud. “Right. How about we just walk, then?” It would’ve been too much trouble to try and find a sky-cart that I could pull; besides, with the midday heat, I didn’t want to add another layer of straps and harnesses to what I was already wearing. I’d refill my canteens on the way out, so as long as we were careful, we could make the hike without a problem.

He led the way out of town, treating me to a rather nice view on top of the desert scenery. I tried not to stare too much. Tried.

What? I’m only equine.

Eventually, I realized he was glancing back every once in a while. While he didn’t seem to mind me checking out his orchard—quite the contrary, so I guess I’d been wrong about him being a prude—I cantered up to him to avoid being too creepy. “So .... what brought you out here?”

Braeburn took a deep breath, looking around as he answered. “Ah wanted to carve out mah own place, Ah reckon. Plant some roots of mah own.”

“I can understand that. Looking for a new life away from the chaos of the city, right?”

“A little bit,” he said. “More like ... s'more freedom out here, y'know? Less rules n' regulations, more free sky.”

“I suppose.” That got me thinking, though. “Question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“When this gets bigger, the rules and regulations are going to follow. Appleoosa may be out on the edge now, but give it a generation and it’s going to grow into a proper city. What'll you do then?”

He fanned himself with his stetson, settling it back onto his head before answering. “Ah guess I'll get used to it. Leastaways, this way I'll have a say in makin' the rules for this place, y'know?”

“Maybe.” I had to admire his optimism, if nothing else. “The Empire’s bureaucracy follows its population, though. If I had to guess, you’ve got a lot of leeway now only because nopony’s sure if this is going to work.”

“If’n so, Ah guess Ah’ll move on again—sell mah share an’ find a quieter patch o’land.” He saw my confused look and focused on my good eye as he explained. “Ah’ like t’settle down, sure, but on mah terms. Besides, Ah’d be better set fer buildin’ a lastin’ home out here if Ah can make a tidy profit sellin’ mah share.” He chuckled. “Mah ol’ Granny Smith would probably tan mah hide fer buyin’ and sellin’ land like jam at a market, but she was a lot more married to her orchard.”

We shared a chuckle and pressed on. 





By the time we got to the river, I was kicking myself for walking. The heat I could manage since it was at least dry (never again would I take a posting in a humid climate if I could help it), but I could see thermals all around us. The air actually rippled around us, and even with a passenger, I could’ve ridden them up half a mile. From there, we could’ve gotten a good look at the cliff face where we would be setting the dam into the walls—I could point out the bits we’d hewn out on the sides, or maybe explain how we tested that it would all stand up against the pressure of a full reservoir. It wouldn’t take me too much time to grab a cloud and a cloud-friendly mat to hold him. 

Probably for the best that we didn’t, though. I’d hate for him to get antsy and slip off or something. Or fall on the way up.

Hypothetically.

Anyway, we’d still get a decent view. The little outpost we’d built near the river had a tall, if somewhat haphazard-looking, tower that stood over a bunker we’d dug into the ground. It wasn’t anything entrenched or particularly robust—adobe was better at warding off heat than attackers, and the tower was barely a dozen meters off the ground. It wasn’t meant to be a holdout, but as a waypoint for me and the other surveyors, it did the job well enough. 

We were close enough that I could see a glint of metal on the door when Braeburn slowed to a halt. “Say, Captain—you have anypony out here?”

“Not in the heat of the day,” I said. “Why?”

In response, he pointed to a small cloud of dust that was quickly coming our way. I pulled him down against a nearby sandhill, then pulled my binoculars out of my saddlebags. With a few small adjustments, I got a better view of the runner. “A buffalo. Juvenile or a small adult, if I had to guess. The coloring’s wrong for an adult.”

That didn’t make any sense. They always travelled together—a dozen or so at bare minimum, and more frequently as an entire herd.

 “Huh.” Braeburn scratched his head. “Maybe he got lost?”

“Maybe.” I doubted it, though; the area around Appleoosa has some some pretty distinct landmarks. Getting lost in the desert was probably even scarier for the ground-pounders than it was for me, and from the sound of things, even the civs had memorized the most important ones within a few months of arriving. They would’ve been even more important and more ingrained to a species that spent its entire existence on the move.

Still, that would explain why he was running for the outpost. It was in good shape, so even somebody with zero survival training would be able to tell that it was regularly maintained—which meant somebody would be there soon, if not already. 

I hoofed the binoculars to Braeburn. “Wait a minute, Ah think Ah know that one. Ah’ve seen her around a few times when the new chief paid us a visit.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Eeyup. Never really talked, though.”

I only grunted in reply. That buffalo had to be fairly important to accompany the chief on a visit to non-buffalo. Her being out and alone made even less sense. I stood up and was about to fly out to her when she reached the outpost … and kept going. Not past it, but through it. She smashed into one of the doors, and not the main door either—it was one of the padlocked storage areas, rather than the front door. I dragged Braeburn back down into cover, and we watched to see what would happen next.

A dozen thoughts ran through my mind, from the perfectly reasonable to the completely insane. Even if she was looking for weapons—and I hoped she wasn’t—they were all secured at the armory back in Appleoosa, and she was close enough to the river that it’d be easier to just dunk her head in rather than raid a water store. Food was a maybe, but if she had enough strength to smash through a padlock at a dead run…

My questions were answered quickly enough when she reemerged with a bag of quick-drying cement over her shoulder and carried it towards the river. She murmured something to herself, threw it in, then ran back to the outpost for another.

Okay, that was enough. I slunk back, pulling Braeburn with me. With any luck, we could return to town without being noticed and get reinforcements to—

“Hey, she can't take that!” Braeburn stood up, pulling my foreleg up with him. Stupid earth pony strength. “Hey there!”

I facehooved. 

Lectures about things like stealth would have to wait for later, though; the young buffalo froze when she heard Braeburn’s voice, but only long enough to drop the cement. She took off like an arrow, running away from the outpost as quickly as she’d come.

I took to the air after her, and Braeburn followed on hoof. He set a pretty good pace, but there was no way he could match somebody who had probably been running since she was a child.

Luckily for him, he didn’t need to.

The thermals took me into the air almost effortlessly, and even in spite of the buffalo’s head start, it didn’t take me long to catch up. It was more than a little satisfying to see her glance up with a look of panic right as I slammed into her. We hit the ground hard, but being between me and the ground, the buffalo was worse off. We tumbled a few times, but I hung on. 

She tried to get her hooves back under her, but I kept her busy long enough for Braeburn to catch up. He hesitated at first, but that ended when I took a hoof to the face. My helmet caught the worst of it, but it still stunned me enough that the buffalo was able to slip out of my grip. She got about five paces away when a lasso swung out and snagged her hindleg, jolting her back and onto her belly. He reeled her in, clapped his forelegs over her ears, and then expertly hog-tied her.

Never again would I make fun of a rodeo. It raised a few questions as to why they would need to know skills like this, but for the moment, I wasn’t going to question it. 

I trotted over, rubbing my head under my helmet. “Not that I’m complaining, but where did the rope come from?”

“Mah hat.” Braeburn didn’t even look away from checking his knots. Sure enough, his hat was on the ground back where he had been standing. 

I got it for him and dusted it off. “Seriously? You keep a coil of rope in your hat?”

“Doesn’t everypony?”

I decided not to pursue that line of thought any further. Locals.

The young buffalo struggled a little while longer, then rolled onto her side, panting. She looked up at the two of us, her eyes wide. It wasn’t just panic, either—or not the spur-of-the-moment panic that comes with being caught red-hoofed; her breathing skyrocketed the instant she got a good look at me, and even tied up like she was, she still kept squirming away from me, and towards the river. 

Something about that sat wrong with me. I trotted to her and put a forehoof on her shoulder—not with any kind weight to it, so much as just letting it be there. “Hey,” I said, giving her a gentle smile. “It’s all right now, okay?”

Surprisingly, the young buffalo was less than reassured by a smile from her armored captor. She stopped moving, but her eyes locked onto me, darting at every subtle move I made. 

“It’s all right—really, I’m not going to hurt you.” I shifted her to a more comfortable position, then got out my canteen and offered it to her. She stared at it like it was an explosive glyph, so I unstopped it, took a swig, then swallowed very clearly so that she could see. “It’s just water, I promise. Nice and cold.”

She still hesitated, so Braeburn took a swig as well, then cradled her head and offered the canteen to her. She seemed to relax just a bit after that; she blinked in surprise when the ice-cold water hit her lips, but then guzzled the offering as if it were fresh cider.

“See? You’re all right now.” I took off my helmet and offered the most reassuring smile I could. “So … when you’re ready, you want to tell me what all that was about?”

“Nothing.”

She even sounded like a teenager. There was no way she was over 16. “Right ... okay, look, this doesn't have to go anywhere past here. But, you have to talk to me. Otherwise I have to take you in.”

The young buffalo blanched, but then glared up at me. “And then your legions will execute me.”

“Say what?!” Braeburn yelped.

I wasn’t quite as horrified as he was, but hearing a child say that still jarred me. “That's absurd. We don't execute ponies—or buffalo—for theft.”

“You came here to destroy our homes,” the young buffalo snorted. “Why not take our lives too?”

“B-but, we didn't come to destroy nopony—” Braeburn caught himself, though not fast enough to escape a glare from the young buffalo. “Er, nobuffalo's homes!”

“You're going to drown our homes under a lake.”

“Nobody. Is killing. Anybody.” I took a half second to steel myself, and to make sure I sounded as non-threatening as possible. “Now ... what were you doing with the cement?”

“I was throwing it into the river.”

“And then?” I pressed.

“I would get another bag, and throw it in.”

“And when you ran out of bags?” 

“I would find something else.” She sounded like she meant it, but also subdued—as if this was the first time she’d heard her plan aloud, rather than just in her head.

“And when you got caught?” I pressed again. “And that's a 'when'. If it wasn’t me today, it would’ve been somebody else. Somebody not as nice.” I hated to add that last part, but it was true. A lot of our maps had ‘OpFor’ on the buffalo territory, and while we’d never officially engaged each other…

I put that thought from my mind. The young buffalo, on the other hoof, seemed to have it front and center in hers, and the longer the silence stretched on, the more she tried to curl in on herself. Poor girl. 

Finally—mercifully—Braeburn spoke up. “What's your name, ma'am?”

“Little Strongheart.”

“Little Strongheart, is it?” Braeburn offered a disarming smile as well, which probably worked a little better than mine on account of his eyes. “That's a pretty name. Mah name's Braeburn. And this here is Captain Ditzy Doo.”

“You can just call me Derpy, if you want.” It was an old nickname, but I figured it would be better than something official.

I guess Strongheart didn’t agree; she seemed less afraid of me than before, but only slightly. “Why are you telling me your names?”

“Because we don't wanna be enemies,” Braeburn said. “Hard t'be enemies with someone you know.”

“Is this some kind of trick?” Strongheart glowered at us. 

“Of course not.” Little Strongheart still looked less than willing to trust me. Shocking.

“It ain't no trick, ma'am.” Braeburn doffed his hat, and gave Strongheart the most adorably disarming smile I’d ever seen. Which, from him, was quite a feat. 

I wasn’t sure what else I could do to reassure her, short of stripping out of my armor. Which wasn’t going to happen. “I'm with the Imperial Corps of Engineers. I'm here to help, not to lie to you.”

“Engineers.” Strongheart spat the word like an obscenity. “You are the ones building the dam that will destroy our homes. Our stampeding grounds.”

“We don't want to destroy nothing,” Braeburn murmured. “But … well, we need that water.”

I rubbed my chin. “I thought you were nomads, anyway.”

“Some lands are precious to us.”

I lay down beside her, taking a sip from my second canteen. “How so?”

“These are our sacred stampeding grounds,” Strongheart answered simply.

Braeburn doffed his hat and put it back on his head. I briefly hoped that he wasn’t going to do that every time he spoke to her. “Uh ... pardon me, miss, but what makes 'em so sacred? Aren't there other grounds?”

Strongheart snorted, sounding insulted by the thought of it. “My father stampeded over these grounds. And his father before him, and his father before him, and—”

“Yes yes, I've heard this story.” I hated to cut her off like that, but if I let her follow that to its conclusion, I’d run out of provisions before she finished.

“Then you understand why it is so important,” the young buffalo said.

I sighed. “Yes, but is this ... is stealing from us worth it? How does that help?”

“If we stop you from building the dam…”

Braeburn spoke up before I could find the best way to break it to her. “But ya cain’t. We got a treaty with the buffalo.”

I sighed, and nodded in agreement. It was a nice dream, that the Empire could be undercut so easily. From the way she said it, I had a feeling that she wasn’t the only buffalo who thought that way, either. They just didn’t know… I didn’t think they could know. I doubted they had ever come across something like this before. From what we knew, the worst their society had faced before now was a dragon that had taken its hundred-year nap on one of their ancestral grazing pastures. It had taken a generation, but life had gone back to the way it always had been for them.

The dam wouldn’t go away, though, and they knew it. Waiting wasn’t an option, but… “If the treaty was broken, the Empire would have to step in. And before you get any ideas, fighting … just don’t.”

“We can,” Strongheart said, frowning up at me. “We have always prevailed.”

“Not this time.” I thought for a moment, trying to find the best way to break through to her. “The Empire can build a wall that can stop a river, sweetie. And it’s done it hundreds of times over hundreds of years—and thousands of ponies, gryphons, zebras, and more live near each of them. If you fought, all of them would come here to fight back.”

“But…” The young buffalo faltered. “But … we cannot let you take our homes.” 

There wasn’t anything I could say to that. So I hugged her instead. She stiffened, and for a moment I thought she was going to headbutt me. An instant later, I realized how badly that could end, what with my helmet off.

I hugged her anyway.

Braeburn fiddled with his hat. “We could build you some homes. Y’know, make you part of Appleoosa.”

“It is not the same!” Strongheart snapped. “We would have to give up our way of life! And this dam would destroy it!”

“The treaty made the buffalo lands Imperial territory,” I said weakly. “Chief Stronghorns agreed to it, and—”

“Stronghorns?!” Strongheart stared incredulously. “He was simple! He would ask his wife when she was due every morning for years after their son was born! He only knew the stampeding paths because he had run them from birth!”

Oh. Oh no. 

Dementia wasn’t as well understood then as it was today, but ponies had known about it since before the Civil War. If Strongheart knew, generations later, there was no way the Empire would have missed it. The Ministry of Heart was just as efficient and frightening back then as it is today, and it wouldn’t surprise me at all if I found out that the Empire had watched Stronghorns from his early childhood, and drafted and reworked the treaty year by year until they were ready to approach him.

That sounded a little paranoid even as it ran through my head, but in my experience, if one wasn’t paranoid about the Ministry of Heart, one didn’t really understand the Empire.

Regardless of my feelings on the matter, nopony could deny how conveniently everything had fallen into place for Appleoosa, at the expense of the buffalo. We had an airtight treaty, diplomats ready to brandish it, soldiers ready to enforce it, and a public more concerned about the frontier and the ponies settling it than anyone who might have been there first.

I struggled for so long that I wound up not needing to say anything at all. Strongheart’s face fell, then tightened into a glare that was as unbelieving as it was angry. “This is wrong!”

“I know,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

“Then stop it! These lands are our homes!”

Braeburn shuffled awkwardly beside me. “This place is our home too, now. Ah mean, it ain’t right what happened with Chief Stronghorns, but that was a long time ago. An’ … well, when we founded Appleoosa, we packed up everything we had, said our goodbyes, an’ put our all into this town. Some of us don’ have no place else to go.”

Strongheart stared at Braeburn, as if seeing him in a new light. I wondered how much the Appleoosans and buffalo had talked before now—actually met and talked to each other, as individuals instead of opponents. “I do not know what you should do,” Strongheart said, “but making your home by destroying ours is wrong.”

I nodded, still lost for words. We were going in circles, and the more she spoke, the more sense she made. Calling it ‘uncomfortable’ was a hay of an understatement. All this seemed so … distant, at home. Far away, but more than that, long ago. There was that tiny, guilty little voice everypony gets in the back of their mind when the topic comes up—that we could wash our hooves of something done by someone else.

And now I was that someone else. The dam hadn’t been my idea, but it was still my work. All Strongheart had wanted to do was protect her home, and even if she was going about it the wrong way, it was all she knew. And now she was bound at my hooves, and lucky that was the worst of it.

I couldn’t leave her here, but bringing her in would create so many more problems than it would solve. There was only one thing I really could do. “I'm going to untie you, okay? But first I need you to promise you won't attack us.”

Strongheart blinked in surprise, but nodded. “I don't want to hurt ponies. I just want to stop the dam.”

I undid the knots, and Braeburn helped Strongheart to her hooves. I hadn’t noticed it earlier, but she was massive—she wasn’t even close to full-grown, and she was almost eye-to-eye with Braeburn. I suppressed a shiver and thanked the moon that she had come on her own. “Look…” I said, hoofing her my canteen. “For what it's worth, I don't like it either.”

“You do not?” When Braeburn and I both shook our heads, Strongheart frowned, her skepticism plainly evident. “Then tell your Empress to stop it.”

Braeburn chewed his lip, wearing the same expression I’d seen on Cirrus and his husband a few times when trying to find a way to explain themselves to their wife. In fairness, I probably had a similar expression. “Uh…” I drew the word out as long as I could. “You … you really don’t understand how that works, do you? Nopony—nobody—just tells the Empress what to do.”

“Is she not bound to you?” Strongheart pressed. “All Chiefs must listen to their herd. If they do not, then they will soon find themselves without any herd to follow them.”

If only. “That’s not how it works for us. Everypony gets a chance to share their point of view, but once the Empress gives an order, that’s the end of it. Her herd is…” I tried to think of a way to describe those rat-fink bastards in the Ministry of Heart. I decided to spare her the horror. “She doesn’t make every decision in the Empire, but it’s big enough that if you say no, they can just send somepony else in your place.”

“But if you tell her that this is wrong…”

“Imperial citizens have a home here, now. In the Empire’s eyes, it would be wrong to take that away.” Propaganda is always a game of perspective, but it still grated on me to explain it.

“But you are one of her soldiers!” Strongheart exclaimed. “She will listen to you!”

“I'm a captain.” I got a blank stare in reply, and I remembered that the buffalo had a far simpler chain of command. “I’m not very important. Just getting to talk with the Empress would be a trick, and I'm so far beneath her that I don’t think she would remember it in a month.”

“But … but there must be something we can do!”

“I wish I knew of something. I swear to you, I really wish I knew.”

Braeburn gingerly put a hoof on the young buffalo’s shoulder. “Miss Strongheart, Ah came out here because Ah wanted to create something new. T'have my own farm and … Ah didn't know we’d be steppin’ on y'all’s hooves like this. And Ah'm powerful sorry. But…” He looked out at the plains. “Ah can't imagine a day that didn't start with me seein’ the sun rise on the prairie.”

Strongheart glowered at him, and Braeburn flinched like he’d just kicked a puppy. “Mah pappy's pappy may not have lived here, but Ah do now. Ah want t'have a family here, to make a life here. And … Ah don't know what to do.”

The young buffalo turned to me. “Your commander is one of the striped ones, and I have heard they get the Empire's justice. How can the buffalo receive it?”

I decided to spare her the history lesson I’d given Braeburn earlier. “They get it because they've been full citizens of the Empire since before my father's father was born.”

“Would your empress spare our stampeding grounds if we became citizens?”

“I don't know,” I admitted. “The site for Appleoosa was chosen because of how close it is to the dam site. The town can't survive without enough water.”

“But she would hear us, at least?” I didn’t miss the desperation in her voice.

“I’ll do what I can,” I assured her. It wasn’t quite an empty promise—the Empress would be visiting the town soon as part of a tour of the frontier—but I didn’t want Strongheart to think that getting an audience with the Empress would be the same thing as changing her mind. “Until then … please don't steal any more, alright? It won’t make them listen, and if somepony else had caught you…” I let the thought go unspoken. Major Batur wasn’t actively looking for casus belli, but he had a knack for pacification. He wouldn’t be light-hoofed in punishing sabotage. 

Strongheart nodded, and she seemed sincere. I hoped she was. “We only want to save our homes.”

“I understand.” I let her drain my canteen, then gave her a final hug. “If you need me again, I'll be in Appleoosa when I'm not out surveying.”

The young buffalo nodded again, then took off like an arrow. Braeburn and I watched her until she was just a speck of dust on the plain





The next few weeks went by without a problem. Actually, they were better than they had been before. After meeting Little Strongheart, I went over the supply records and found a pattern of disappearances. The shrinkage wasn’t obvious in day-to-day work, but it added up quickly enough: a few bags of concrete from one outpost, or the dumpy level and Jacob’s ladder from another. 

Come to think of it, that might explain where my good telescope had gone. I’d have to ask Strongheart about it when I saw her again. 

Still, things were going missing, and even if I hadn’t caught Strongheart red-hooved, somepony would have put the pieces together sooner or later. What I worried about the most, though, was the fact that the buffalo were stealing at all. I had a feeling that they knew crime wasn’t a problem in Appleoosa, and anyone who wasn’t a professional thief would be caught quickly enough. Still, even with soldiers around—and proper soldiers, not just gendarmes—our supplies were going missing.

If that was what they would do when we were just surveying, I was afraid to think of what would happen when we actually started construction.

I wasn’t sure what Strongheart had told her people after our encounter, but whatever it was, it seemed to be enough to get them to leave our supplies alone. Still, I couldn’t help but worry what she’d said to them—what she’d said that I could do to help them. Sure, I wouldn’t be the one overpromising if worst came to worst, but explaining that to a large, angry crowd didn’t sound like it would end well.

I wished I had somepony to talk to about it. Braeburn was sweet, understanding, and one of the kindest ponies I’d ever met, but all the two of us could (and did) do was talk about the growing impasse. Neither of us had the experience or the authority to do much, beyond a general protest. He did get it in his head to write to the regional praetor, and I had him send a letter or two for me. It was actually a pretty good setup: I didn’t want to put my name on anything, and Braeburn didn’t mind having a ghostwriter. It’s not that I thought the Ministry of Heart would swoop in on a moment’s notice, but the possibility of reassignment was firmly in the back of my mind. 

I wanted to help the buffalo, but if my superiors thought it would interfere with my work … well, I wasn’t the only civil engineer in the Empire.

The eternal question was how to help them. Correspondence was well and good as a PR stunt, but even as I dictated letters to Braeburn in candlelit evenings, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was just banging my head against the proverbial wall. It got to the point where I was losing sleep over it—although part of it may have been Braeburn’s snoring.

I swear, that stallion sounded like he was sawing his way through a petrified forest. I had new sympathy for Canan; she had my brother and their husband to deal with. I probably could have avoided that easily enough by going back to the barracks, but we’d get so engrossed with our work that it was just easier to borrow Braeburn’s couch and alarm clock.

Anyway, I was looking over his latest letters at the barracks’ supply office when somepony knocked at the door. I hastily filed Braeburn’s letter in with the rest of my reports. “It’s open!” Major Batur trotted in, and I made sure not to jostle my reports as I stood to salute him. “Sir. Something I can do for you?”

The major returned my salute, his blue eyes creased in a hint of a smile. “I was just surprised to see you on base, instead of at your coltfriend’s place.”

The evenings spent working on the problem at hoof couldn’t go unnoticed forever, but I had been more worried about being associated with the buffalo than with Braeburn. I chuckled and quickly explained, “Huzubuwa?”

That sounded a lot better in my head.

The Major smiled at me with teeth as white as his stripes. Great, he wasn’t going to let me off the hook so easily. “You know, the yellow one with the hat and loud voice? From what I'm told, he is quite choice.”

“Yes, choice. Very nice, too, and a great ass. Asset!” 

Batur actually laughed at that. I only hoped that nopony else had been passing by during that little gaffe. Luckily for me, he held up a hoof before I could dig myself any deeper. “Don't worry about that fraternization; I know you'll loyally serve your nation.”

I nodded. “Of course, sir. I came here to do a job, first and foremost.” 

“As long as you remember that fact, I think your relationship can stay intact.”

“I'd never let my personal life get in the way of a job, sir.” I was just a bit defensive at that, even if Braeburn and I were just friends. 

Batur nodded, sat down, and then mercifully changed the subject. “Anyway, to business. You were out on the building site the other day. Are the buffalo still getting in the way?”

“Things seem to have leveled off for the time being, sir.” I tapped the inventory reports on the desk. “It's a lot smoother right now, but the impression I get is that that's ... well, because they're waiting to see what happens next.”

The major smiled. “I’m glad our plans have finally been accepted, I was worried I would have to start having them arrested.”

“Not ... quite, sir.” Feeling no pressure whatsoever, I took a swig from my canteen to buy myself a few seconds. “I think it's more a question of putting a better hoof forward.”

“Explain.” The smile faded, and the lack of a follow-up rhyme worried me.

“It's a question of honey rather than vinegar, from what I can tell.” I tapped the inventory reports again. “Shrinkage is at an all-time low, but somepony's started writing to the regional praetor on their behalf. They're trying to ask that the project be delayed, or even called off.”

“That’s unacceptable.” Batur’s ear flicked in annoyance. “We're already behind schedule.”

“The case they’re making says we don't have the right to build it at all.” Even I knew that was a long shot, and I was the one who said it. I dug through my saddlebags for a minute and pretended to look for the notes I’d spent the last several nights working on. “I was compiling a report for you, but with things quieting down, it kind of went onto the backburner.”

The major waved a gold-shod hoof. “I won’t fault your priorities, but since it’s now just you and me…”

Time to bite the bolt. Come to think of it, I wished that I had an actual bolt to bite on; splinters or no, it would’ve distracted me from the nervous pit in my stomach. “The crux of it boils down to the treaty between the Empire and the buffalo, and that it was signed under false pretenses.”

“‘False pretenses?’” Major Batur frowned. “As I recall, the treaty was signed under peaceful circumstances.”

“Well, we didn’t exactly have them at spearpoint when they signed,” I conceded, “but it’s common knowledge among the buffalo even in his time that Chief Stronghorns wasn’t entirely there.” I tapped my forehead pointedly.

“In that case, I wonder why they left him in charge of negotiating a sensitive treaty.” The major leaned forward, and I gave him one of my canteens. 

It was a good question, and one that I had spent entire evenings wrestling with. I could comment on the treaty’s convenient timing, since first contact had been made generations before Stronghorns’ birth, but that would be pushing my luck too far. At best, it would be written off as a coincidence, something I’d bought into less and less the more Braeburn and I had talked it over.

I believe in coincidences, certainly, but not when an empire capable of manufacturing them benefits from one. “This was all a long time ago, and their culture relies more on the spoken word.” 

“Yes, yes, so I've heard. If I might be blunt, Captain, I think it absurd.” He paused to take a sip before continuing. “Which do you think more likely? Tales of convenient mental degradation, or altering their oral traditions for validation?”

“From our perspective that would make sense, sir, but that would mean they're altering their entire history on a whim. In societies that relied on oral tradition rather than the written word, lying like that would be one of the worst things they could do to their heritage.” Book burnings would at least leave a trail of ashes and conspicuous gaps in the written record.

I don’t think the major was on the same page I was, though. His ear flicked, and his blue eyes narrowed in annoyance. “I doubt it’s anything so seedy, but are you aware of the terms of the treaty?”

I nodded. I wasn’t quite able to cite it verbatim, but I’d read it enough that I knew the basics. “The initial treaty stated that we would provide them with a large variety of trade goods and supplies in exchange for the right to build a dam after twenty years.” 

“And twenty years have passed since that pact was sealed, and now the buffalo refuse to uphold their end of the deal.”

I understood that things like tools, fabric, food, and medicine weren’t things that nomads could usually produce on their own, much less on a level that would sustain them indefinitely, but something still didn’t add up to me. “What kind of goods would a nomadic society need that are on par with a dam? And not just any dam, sir, but one that would flood their sacred stampeding grounds?”

“Has it always been so sacred? The buffalo have been quiet for some time with the knowledge that it would be traded.” He drained his canteen and gave it back to me. “They made a treaty with our nation, and now want to avoid their obligation. The terms to which they agreed saw to much more than just their need.”

And that was true. The railroad through buffalo territory had been invaluable to our frontier expansion and supply lines, and Appleoosa just would not survive without a nearby reservoir. “That’s true enough,” I offered, more than ready to steer the conversation back into safer waters. “Anyway, sir, that’s my report on the matter.” 





The Empress was coming to Appleoosa.

That might be great news to your average citizen, but even under the best circumstances, an Imperial visit is a logistical nightmare. Security is the most obvious hassle, but in addition to that, supplies have to be stocked for the influx of beings in the Imperial retinue, every Guard project worth reporting on had to have the ‘i’s dotted and the ‘t’s crossed on the off chance of inspection, and the entire town underwent a cleanup. Not that we had a litter problem or anything like that, but tumbleweeds tend to build up if you let them.

In addition to the official side of it, Braeburn and I had gone into overdrive with our side project. With our letters going nowhere, it was pretty obvious to us that we’d need something much more direct. We had a loose manifesto by this point, but that was only a start; getting on our soapbox wouldn’t do much good if we couldn't find a way to make everyone else want to listen.

Luckily, the Appleoosans were setting up a stage for a welcoming presentation. Braeburn signed himself up for a performance, and our evenings shifted from writing to rehearsing. I felt horrible for keeping Little Strongheart out of the loop, but neither of us had any idea how to broach the issue, and we weren’t sure she wouldn’t storm up to the Empress right there at the train station. 

Either way though, we had a plan now. We both lost sleep as we committed everything to memory, but it was worth it.

I got the weirdest smirks when I reported in looking tired. I have no idea why—it’s not my fault Braeburn snores.

He and the other townsfolk got the stage set up the morning of the Imperial visit. Naturally it was crawling with some of my fellow Guards, and again after the train arrived by a few nondescript ponies who were probably some flavor of EIS or Phoenix Guard. The Empress seemed … well, curious about it. It wasn’t the Grand Canterlot Theater by any stretch of the imagination, but Braeburn and the others had made it more presentable than just a ramshackle wooden construct.

The visit went about as well as we’d hoped; I only briefly saw the Empress as part of the greeting ceremony when she disembarked the train, but the worst that happened was Braeburn proudly showing off Goldie Delicious’s cathouse during the main tour.

In hindsight, I probably should have told him to skip that part. 

As the day drew to a close and the Empress made a show of lowering the sun, I excused myself to head to the stage and get ready. Braeburn was there as well, and while we were supposed to be going over the manuscript one last time, neither of us said a word to each other. A hot ball of nerves wound itself up in my stomach the closer we got to the show, and from the way Braeburn was fidgeting on his hooves, he was probably in similar shape. 

We stayed that way, half-reading our scripts as the performances ahead of us played themselves out. Finally, the curtain dropped, the stage was set, and the voices outside died down to a murmur. Braeburn gulped, then trotted out. I heard his voice, but I didn’t really listen. 

My mind went back to everything I was going to lose with this. There was no way I wouldn’t be reassigned, but … gods, how far would this extend? Would I get dumped onto some distant project like the Northmarch? Going to that pit would be the end of my vocation, at least as far as the Guard went—careers never bounced back from a tour there. If I was lucky, maybe I could get a discharge and go to a civilian firm.

Another thought hit me, and the twisted knot in my stomach redoubled. I knew what I was getting into with this, but I represented a lot more than just me as a captain. I hoped this wouldn’t come down on anypony else in my company, below or above me—for all my disagreements with him, I liked Major Batur. I’d have to find some way to make it clear that all of this was me, and only me. Gods, I felt so short-sighted thinking about that now. I’d been so focused on finding a way to help the buffalo that I hadn’t thought about collateral damage.

Nothing for it now. Braeburn was winding down, and the curtain would be rising in a few seconds. He came back and got into place, and I did the same.

The curtain rose and revealed hundreds of eyes, some of which stared out from under helmets. The Empress was front and center, and I could feel her gaze boring into me like a thermal drill. It took all my willpower to focus on Braeburn as he opened the scene. 

“Thank yew, everybody, fer comin’ tonight.” He nodded to the Empress, somehow keeping on track as her attention shifted to him. “We got a mighty fine show lined up, even if it’s a bit of a modest greetin’ by comparison. But we’re nothin’ if not neighborly out here, an’ on behalf of the ponies, gryphons, zebras, changelings, an’ all the other races of the Empire, welcome to the frontier.” The townsfolk murmured their agreement, and the Empress nodded politely, a curious gleam in her eye. Braeburn met it with a smile as he continued. “Why Ah even heard we’re gettin’ ourselves a seapony out here!”

“A seapony?” I echoed. “In Appleoosa?”

Braeburn nodded. “Somepony’s gotta talk t’them buffalo, an’ nobody else speaks in bubbles.”

“Oh, right! The reservoir!” I paused for effect, noting a few uncomfortable shuffles from the audience. “But isn’t that going up over their sacred lands?”

“It’s a dam shame,” Braeburn said, drawing laughter and groans in equal measure. “But Ah took out an ad in the paper t’learn how to give ‘em swimmin’ lessons. Y’all know where Ah can get flippers in a size 30?”

“I don’t know … this sounds like it’s going to ruin all of their ancient traditions.” 

Braeburn shrugged. “Yeah, but it could be worse. We could end up with buffalo in bikinis.”

I tried to keep a straight face. And failed. Judging from the audience’s laughter, I wasn’t the only one who ended up with that mental image. I pointedly kept my eyes (both of them) on Braeburn and off the crowd as we waited for them to settle back down. “Maybe I should ask for Photo Finish to come out on the train with the flippers.” I paused and tapped my chin. “So, what’s your plan for teaching them how to swim, anyway?”

“Well, Ah was gonna handle it the same way Granny Smith taught me an’ mah cousin Macintosh.”

“If it involves bikinis, I don’t think I want to hear the rest of it.” Although I did wonder if Braeburn had one somewhere in his cabin … 

I tucked that not-so-unappealing image away for later. Duty before booty, as an old friend once put it. 

“Naw, nothin’ like that,” Braeburn said. “Ah was lookin’ t’get a bunch of them floaty things, like Mac wears when he goes swimmin.’”

From the way he smirked as he said that, I wondered if he was serious about that. “They’d have to be pretty big to fit a buffalo, and it’d take a lot of hot air to fill.”

“Ooh, yeah. An’ Appleoosa’s plum outta politicians. Ah might lose a few…”

“Well, you could still turn a profit if they drown. If the worst comes to worst, some species in the Empire eat meat.”

“That’s terrible!” 

“Terribly pragmatic, you mean?” I asked, ignoring a few horrified gasps from the audience. “You can send them out to the gryphons with an Appleoosa apple in their mouths. It’s great advertising!”

The stetson came off of Braeburn’s head to rest over his heart. “Waste not, want not, them poor, unfortunate souls … but then, it ain’t like they’re Imperial citizens. ‘Sides, not everyone in the Empire can survive offa apples alone.”

“True, true.” I paused, then turned to him. “Maybe we should celebrate your new swimming school over dinner. How’s buffalo steak sound?”

“Great! As long as it ain’t too runny.” That got another groan from the audience. Cirrus would’ve been proud.

The curtain dropped in front of us. It hadn’t been planned, since we would’ve signalled the stage helpers (assuming they were still here at all). Braeburn’s apprehensive look over my shoulder gave me a hint as to who had ended the production early, and Major Batur’s furious voice confirmed it.

“Captain. My office, if you please.”

I knew I was in trouble when he didn’t follow that up with a rhyme.





Major Batur didn’t explode at me—or, not in the way one would usually think of the word. He didn’t stomp menacingly on the way to his office or slam the door, or get in my face and yell at me like a Drill Instructor. He even pulled my seat-cushion out for me before sitting down at his desk, but I could hear him grinding his teeth as he did so. “I would like to know what the intent was behind that show.”

“Was there something about the play you didn't understand, sir?” 

“First Lieutenant Doo, I advise you to watch your tone; that performance has already left you very much alone.” His voice cracked like a whip in spite of not rising in volume, and I still winced at the implicit demotion. It wasn’t official, but after that production a lot of the paperwork involved would probably be fast-tracked into the record. 

“I merely offered my opinion on Imperial policy, sir. There's nothing wrong with that.” I’d made my bed long before the curtain rose. Time to lie in it. 

The major glowered at me. “When bandying words that biting, Master Sergeant, you shouldn’t do it when it's the Empress we're inviting!” I winced again as I lost my officership. “That was far too sarcastic a pill to be swallowed, and there is a set chain of command to be followed.”

“Somepony needed to say it. If I get punished for it, then so be it.”

“Well, Corporal, you've just guaranteed your career's dead in the water now, so I hope it was worth your indiscretions with that stallion and cow.” My mouth was half-open to protest when I realized that he wasn’t insulting Little Strongheart so much as referring to her by species. Then the other half of my brain kicked in as the rest of what he’d said sank in.

Corporal.

That was it for me. My degree, the years I’d spent at the Imperial Academy, the projects I had lined up after the dam was over … all gone. Any drop in rank stays with your record long after it’s happened, even if you get promoted again later on. A drop this big … gods. Corporal was only a few rungs above the recruits coming out of Basic Training, and eight full steps down from the bars currently on my shoulders. Soldiers spent decades working their way up to a rank as prestigious as captain, and I’d lost it over the course of a few brief words.

The door opened behind me, jarring me from my reverie. I’d had a guess as to who it was from the lack of a knock, and from the way Major Batur shot out of his seat I’d guessed right. I quickly stood up and saluted with him as Empress Sunbeam trotted into the office.

“Major Batur.” She met our salutes with a polite nod. “I hope this isn’t a bad time.”

The Major shook his head. “Of course not, Your Majesty.” It’s not like he really could have said otherwise.

The Empress smiled faintly, probably thinking something similar. “Good, then. If you’ll give us the room, Major, I would like to speak to Captain Doo in private.”

With another salute and a slightly awkward shuffle to get to the door, Major Batur departed, leaving me alone with Empress Sunbeam. It was … unnerving, to put it mildly. Sure, most of the buffalo could match her in terms of simple bulk, but they were just buffalo. Any alicorn is a thing of legend, and the Empress had this raw presence that really had no comparison. Probably obvious, but I would’ve put my money on the Sun Mantle—her mane and tail ruffled and ebbed ever so slightly in spite of the lack of air current in the office, and she looked down at me like a scientist looking looking through a microscope. 

I tried very, very hard to not think about how she had tortured and butchered my ancestors with gleeful abandon in the Equestrian Civil War as I met her gaze. “W-” I swallowed and tried again. “What can I do for you, Your Majesty?”

“Your production was rather singular, Captain.” She spoke about the whole affair with the serene casualness of somepony talking about the weather. “That was very boldly done, and raised a few rather interesting points.”

Well, she was talking calmly with me, and in person rather than through the bars of a cell. That was a good sign. She’d also referred to me by the rank of captain, which was a nice break from the demotions I’d just received. Granted, they might stay in place at the end of the day, but if she decided I was still a captain, I doubted Major Batur would fight her over it. I sat up a little straighter. “Something had to be done, Your Majesty. I tried a few other avenues, but when nothing came of it…” I trailed off, not really sure what else to say.

The Empress nodded, her green eyes half-hidden by the action. “Indeed. It takes a brave pony to speak an unpleasant truth, but that is what you did today. And you had the sense to use humor to take the bite from your words.”

I nodded and smiled cautiously, grateful I’d listened to Macintosh Apple’s advice and not thrown out his letter. “Like I said, Your Majesty, something had to be done. If I have to face the music for it…” My smile fell, and I shrugged. “Well. Here I am.”

Empress Sunbeam sat back quietly, giving me the Microscope Look once more. I stood stock-still, as if I were on parade ground inspection—which, to be honest, probably wasn’t too far off as comparisons go. I focused my good eye on her diadem, and briefly let myself wonder if it was the same one she had taken from the old Queen Celestia or if it was something she’d had made after gaining the throne. Finally—thankfully—the Empress broke the silence, regally drawing herself up as she spoke. 

“Captain Ditzy Doo, I am officially charging you…” She paused, and I braced myself. “...to perform a survey of the valley, and determine if a practical way can be found to preserve the stampeding grounds while still filling Appleoosa's needs.”

The Empress has a cruel sense of humor. 

“Y-yes, your Highness, I—” I chewed over how best to respond, then sighed. “May I speak freely? I'm afraid I'm only funny if I have time to plan my jokes.” The Empress nodded, and I continued. “The geology of Appleoosa means the town has to be here. I’ll be happy to find the full report in our records if you’d like, Your Highness, but the fact of the matter is this is the best spot for development within 20 kilometers.”

Empress Sunbeam arched an eyebrow. “There is truly nothing else inside that radius?”

“No, your majesty. Not unless our budget is increased enough to allow for record-breaking geoforming projects a kilometer upstream.”

“How much of a budget increase?”

The sum I provided gave me the rare privilege of seeing her astonishment. “Yeah … it wasn’t really feasible beyond an initial estimate.” I paused, then quickly added, “Your Majesty. And the town would have to move with the reservoir, regardless.”

The Empress sighed and rubbed her head with a gold-shod hoof. “I suppose if it were that simple, it would've already been solved.”

“I wish I had better news to give you.” I hesitated for a heartbeat, then took a chance. “I just don't think it's right that the buffalo have to take the hit for it.”

“But Appleoosa has needs too,” she countered. I didn’t have an answer for that, and she frowned. “However, regardless of the outcome, your little performance did reveal something critical: the buffalo need better representation within the Empire. You have good relations with their leadership?”

I rubbed my ears, not quite believing what I was hearing. “I'm on good terms with the chieftain's daughter, yes ma'am. Your Majesty, sorry.”

“The chieftain's daughter? Hmm…” She tapped a hoof to her chin, either not noticing or not caring about my slip in protocol. “And you find her an educated, intelligent individual?”

As much as a nomad could be. It wasn’t that she was slow or anything, but a sharp mind can only do so much with limited access to information. Still… “Yes ma'am. And she's dedicated to the wellbeing of her fellow buffalo.”

“Very good. Inform her that henceforth she will be serving as the acting tribune for the buffalo tribes until such time as the citizenship process is concluded and elections can be arranged.”

“As soon as I see her!” It was a bit of an effort not to bolt out of the window right there. One thing came to mind, slowing me down a bit. An official voice would go a long way for them, given how completely ignored they had felt until recently. We’d been lucky that nothing worse than low-level sabotage had happened. Now … “Thank you, Your Majesty. Really—thank you. Things are a lot calmer now since they got even a little help. With this…”

“Hopefully, we will have a peaceful land and quiet subjects.”

“That's a balance that will take some doing, even if we sort out the reservoir.” 

“Oh yes,” the Empress said with a chuckle. “But I'm rather used to playing that game.”

“I wish I had your patience for it. I'm only an engineer.”

“Indeed.” Her smile didn’t quite fade, but it froze as she examined me once more. “I have one other thing to ask of you, Captain. Would you accompany the new tribune to Canterlot, at least for a short time? The Feast of Remembrance is coming up quickly, and I would prefer she have somepony with her if she wishes to attend.”

I blinked in surprise, but nodded. “Of course! I'd be happy to help Little Str—the tribune settle in.”

“Good, good.” The Empress stood, and I followed suit. “If there is nothing else…”

“Not for the moment. Just … thank you, Your Majesty.”

“But of course, Captain Doo.”





I met up with Braeburn later that night. Or rather, I was waiting for him at his place when the Phoenix Guard finally released him. To be honest, I don’t really know how I got there—I have a big gap in my memory between leaving Major Batur’s office and Braeburn trotting in to find me shaking like an aspen in an autumn storm. It had been dark when I left, dark when I got there, and dark when he got there. Anything in between … honestly, if somepony had told me I’d lost time, I wouldn’t have had a hard time believing them.

Not that Braeburn was in much better shape. Either he’d had less comfortable treatment than I had or the Empress had come to talk to him as well, but in both cases, he’d come out of it even worse for wear than I had. Hay, I at least had training; he was just a well-meaning civilian. 

Good intentions, and all that.

We hugged, not trading a word for what felt like weeks. When we eventually stopped shaking, we both exchanged a look that asked the other how it went. 

“Well,” I said, finding my voice first. “At least that’s done now, right?”

Braeburn chuckled weakly and nodded. “An’ here we are, in one piece. Ah thought Ah’d be joinin’ mah cousin Applejack at the Ministry o’ Heart fer a spell. Already enjoyed their hospitality a few months ago.” He shivered at the memory, and I hugged him tighter. “Either that, or they got a two-strikes policy an’ they got rid o’me after all, an’ the other side ain’t quite what Ah thought it’d be.”

I laughed far harder than I probably should have. “If the afterlife is a bachelor pad, I’ve been had.”

“Hey now.” He nudged me good-naturedly, probably just as happy to have something to laugh at. “Ah told ya already, it don’t have to be much to be home.”

“No, no, that’s true.” The late nights I’d spent here had made that abundantly clear. It’s not like a hard floor, a few dust bunnies, and the stack of dishes to be washed ‘later’ were the worst I’d ever come across. Especially in college.

The somewhat-awkward laughter eventually died down. Braeburn rubbed the back of his head. “So…”

“So?”

He poked me. “So. You an’ the Empress shot the breeze fer a bit. What’d she say?”

I rubbed my face. “I don’t know if I’ll be here for the long haul anymore … she tasked me with helping Little Strongheart as she gets used to the Empire proper. As a tribune.”

Braeburn’s jaw hit the floor. “That’s good, right?” he asked. “The Empress makin’ her a tribune means she’s gonna hear her out now, don’t it?”

“She’s listening,” I said. “That’s it. She’ll listen and consider it, but … well, to be honest, she’s got others to listen to as well. Hay, I told her about my survey reports, and that’s just one report out of dozens.” 

Braeburn’s face fell, and I quickly followed up before he hit me with those sad, green eyes of his. “But she’s listening, and the fact that she gave Strongheart a title means she’ll listen to her. That’s something. It’s not a guarantee, or a promise, or even an offer. But it’s a chance. I’ll take that.”

Braeburn smiled at me like he’d just won the lottery. “Well, Ah reckon we owe it to Little Strongheart to let her in on the good news, don’t you?”

I nodded, smiling back at him. He opened the door for me like a proper gentlecolt, and I knelt for him to fly out to the buffalo. Their camp wasn’t too far out by wing, but we didn’t arrive until dawn.

Braeburn and I had to have a private celebration first.