It was like something out of a mystery story, or a crime drama. Kindle had been an actor before attaining his current and much-desired position as the Voice of the Sun, and as a result had read quite a few books and even performed in several mystery plays, and so knew all the tropes. Everything was in place now, and all he and his eight salamander compatriots had to do was wait for the appointed time.
It wasn’t easy – pegasi didn’t tend to do well underground, were instinctively uncomfortable with the thought of having tons and tons of earth and stone between them and the open sky. They’d been travelling underground for days now, too. Kindle held the small mirror in his hooves, waiting for the signal, the small green flash that would mean that their ally in Zaldia had played his part and would allow him to carry out the mission for his Queen and, almost as importantly, get out from underground, even if only for a few minutes.
Only a couple more hours…
---
Lyra didn’t know a single word of Elkheimer, but she still loved listening to Peer Gynt; she couldn’t speak Pferdreicher but could sing along with “An Die Freude”. She wasn’t even restricted to the classics – Luna’s Academy had once been visited by a camel from Maghrib, who had brought with him a record that had a number of modern Dromedary songs on it; the one Lyra remembered most was from a style of music called raï. It had taken her the better part of four weeks, but she’d finally been able to teach herself how to sing it phonetically to the camel’s satisfaction, and still had a lyric sheet for it somewhere.
Music, like most art, transcended language and culture. Lyra was reminded of this as she practiced with Ohar Garai before the concert, the two establishing a quick rapport as they worked out what pieces they wanted to play, helped each other learn them if they didn’t already know them. Ohar was very skilled at his zither – she’d heard him on records, of course, but hearing what he could achieve with his hooves on the strings of his instrument reminded Lyra that she could still stand to improve her own abilities.
“I think we as good as can be,” Ohar said at length, about half an hour before the concert. His Cavallian hadn’t improved, and neither had Lyra’s, but both had decided to stop worrying about it. Out on stage, various ushers were doing some last-minute cleaning and polishing, even as other ushers did their own checks throughout the Auditorio. Ohar pursed his lips a moment, before nodding at Lyra’s horn. “I am impressed you play with hooves.”
Lyra smiled at the compliment, not an unfamiliar one. “It feeling more natural,” she said, even as her telekinesis worked at one of the strings, which was wound a little too tight. The last thing she needed was for a string to break in the middle of the concert. She glanced at the horn-ring that Ohar wore in a chain around his neck. “Who gave to you?”
The earth pony blinked in surprise, glancing down at the chain. “Oh,” he said, smiling as he raised it, showing the front of the sigil to Lyra – a bear, the national animal of Zaldia. “Gift from King Tronua. Very special gift. I play at his coronation, many years ago. Was not supposed to, not proper, but musician supposed to play, Ardo Abestia…” he made a motion with his hooves, suggesting sculling back a drink – or several drinks, a wry smile on his face. Lyra chuckled, nodding in understanding. “So I found, and I play. King Tronua come to me afterwards, say ‘you better than hoped! Save my coronation!’ And he give me this ring. In Zaldia, it is sign of King’s favor. King sponsor me ever since.”
Lyra nodded, though some of what Ohar said nagged at her. “Not proper?” she asked. “You, uh…” she tried to find a delicate way to put it, but her grip on Cavallian just wasn’t strong enough. “Because you are not noble?” She knew that commoners ascending to nobility, or even gentry, was much harder in Zaldia than in Equestria, and in the heavily stratified society, that could quite obviously cause problems – rather silly problems, to Lyra’s way of thinking.
Ohar shook his head. “No,” he answered, and waved his hoof at his head, then his body. “Because I simple earth pony. To play before a king – very unexpected. Great honor!”
Lyra blinked a few times. Because he was a simple earth pony? That was what she had asked after, right? If his being a commoner had played into it? It took a moment more, but at length Lyra realized that she had focused too much on the simple part and not on the earth pony part. “Why…does being earth pony matter?” She asked, fairly certain she wouldn’t like the answer.
Ohar shrugged. “Earth pony have place, have part to play, just as unicorn,” he answered, then shrugged again. “But, some exceptions. Artists come from any tribe. Still, very unusual for earth pony to play for unicorn …or unicorn for earth pony. We are separate. Equal, but separate.” Ohar sat up straighter, though, tapping a hoof to his chest, and the horn-ring that hung against it. “But, I Ohar Garai. I play for all. Twenty years now I am in King’s favor, not change soon, even most nobles come around by now.” He nodded. “Good friends, King and I. Very liberal, forward-thinking pony.”
He sounded positively backwards to Lyra’s ears, but then Ohar made it sound like the rest of the nation of Zaldia was even more so. If she was understanding him right, then Zaldia wasn’t just stratified along class lines, but along tribal ones as well – and the best an earth pony could hope for was to get a horn-ring that he or she couldn’t even wear, which would make him or her an ‘honorary’ unicorn, basically. It occurred to Lyra that the vast majority of ponies that she had seen in the city outside had been unicorns. Sure, back in Ponyville, earth ponies were a majority, and Canterlot had a unicorn majority, but both were by much smaller margins and more the result of historical trends than intentional segregation – which Lyra had a funny feeling was not the case in Gotorleku Hiria.
Had Zaldia just missed the Hearth’s Warming, or something? How the three tribes were supposed to come together in harmony? Plus, what would that mean for Lyra and Bon Bon? The love of Lyra’s life was an earth pony. Had the two been born in Zaldia, would they not be allowed to see each other or something? Would the Zaldians try to keep them apart or think their relationship scandalous? Lyra felt her teeth grinding together at the thought.
Ohar Garai seemed to realize that a nerve had been touched, and held up his hooves to try and placate Lyra. Before he could, though, a unicorn usher appeared and said something in clipped and precise Zaldian. Ohar said something back, then turned to Lyra. “They are beginning to let ponies into Auditorio,” he said. “We must ready ourselves. Please – ikuskizuna joan behar. The show must go on.”
Lyra took in a steadying breath at that, and let it out slowly, nodding. “Sorry,” she said. “I not mad at you. I just…” She paused, thinking. “I did not know Zaldia very well.”
Ohar shrugged. “Earth ponies not oppressed – our rights, equal. We simply have place, as unicorns have place.” He nodded. “Da zer da. It is what it is.”
Lyra wanted to vehemently disagree, but she had a concert to put on, and Ohar was right – the show had to go on. Plus she wasn’t exactly here to change the nation, and it was probably beyond her ability anyway. Play the gig, never get involved in the politics – that was an old musician’s maxim, too.
She nodded to Ohar again, and looked down to her lyre, hooves gliding across its strings. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s get ready, then.”
---
Trixie had met a plethora of unpleasant ponies in her life, and indeed had once been an unpleasant pony herself, or at least could definitely come across as one. She was an expert on the archetype and so felt pretty sure that she could correctly decide whether or not a pony was a pleasant one or not.
“Well, now that we are finished, we should attend to the matter of your attempted bribe.”
Lord Kristal Zati was an unpleasant pony.
Trixie glanced down, using the opportunity to count the tiles on the floor she could see. They were big, each one about two feet across, but very tightly fitted together. Wouldn’t have been able to slip the thinnest sheet of tin foil between them, even. Though still not as tight as Zati’s –
“It was not a bribe,” Trixie said, interrupting her own thoughts as she looked back up and to her Zaldian counterpart. “It was intended as a gift. I had thought to bring a fruit basket but decided on something more personal. But if you insist,” she kept going, before Zati could interrupt, “then fine. Let’s go to the castle guard or whoever,”
“I already called for an officer of the Guarsai,” Zati said, tapping a hoof to his horn, indicating a simple spell he must have cast. “Several minutes ago. One will be along shortly.”
“Alright, then,” Trixie said. She considered putting on a disarming smile, but decided against it as she instead used the opportunity to look over her documents. Princess Luna had given her relatively broad authority to negotiate on the Equestrian Crown’s behalf – inwardly Trixie beamed at the responsibility – and Trixie thought that she had managed to secure fairly reasonable terms for Equestria and Zaldia to begin the investigation of Tambelon. They would have to be finalized in yet another meeting in a month, this time between the High Mage and the Princess themselves, but Trixie was sure that she had given Luna a good starting position for any final negotiations.
At length, and interrupting Trixie from her thoughts, another unicorn pony entered the room. He wore a Zaldian military uniform – a green jacket with silver buttons up its length, with a thin platinum chain stretching from the shoulder and into the jacket – but Trixie didn’t see any kind of rank insignia on him, other than a thin strip at the chest, where a badge would be on a police officer, with the letters GS emblazoned on it. This, then, was probably the Guarsai agent.
If Trixie had been concerned at all about meeting an officer of the Guardia Saila, her concerns evaporated once she got a good look at the stallion. He nodded to Trixie, looked to Kristal Zati, and the look spoke volumes. Trixie had a feeling that this wasn’t the first time that Zati had called up the Guarsai over something frivolous. “Jauna Zati,” the agent said. “Izeneko duzu?”
“Bai,” Zati said. “Ez Prantsesa hitz egiten duzu? Zaldun Trixie daiteke, ez ordea, oso ondo.”
The officer of the Guarsai nodded, then looked to Trixie. “Can you understand me?” He asked in Prench, his accent a match for Zati’s own. He also spoke very slowly, clearly, and loudly – as though he wasn’t sure that Trixie could speak Prench. She had a funny feeling she knew what Zati had just told him.
“I can understand you just fine,” Trixie said, her voice deadpanned. “I grew up speaking Prench as often as Equestrian.”
The officer’s eyes narrowed a little, though he directed his ire at Zati, not Trixie. “I am sorry,” he said. “Perhaps Lord Zati was simply unused to the Neigh Orleans accent. I can understand you just fine, however.” Trixie had a sense that the officer had just made a small dig at Kristal Zati, and Trixie decided that she liked him for that. “In any event,” the officer pressed on, “my name is Armarria Solidoa, and I am an agent of the Guard Department – the Guarsai, we call it here. Do you know why I have been called here?”
Trixie nodded, turning around and telekinetically grabbing the platinum-and-silver map she had commissioned for Lord Zati, holding it up. “I am certain it is simply a case of culture clash,” she said. “Lord Zati thought I was trying to bribe him, but that was not my intention. It’s just that Equestrian officials often trade gifts when first meeting.”
“Zaldian officials do as well,” officer Solidoa noted, taking the map into his own telekinetic grip and looking over its surface. “Though usually just fruit baskets, nothing with obvious monetary worth like this. Also, in the case of foreign gifts, the gift and its intended recipient must be specifically cleared by the Guarsai ahead of time – not simply passed through customs.”
Trixie started to defend herself, though a look at Solidoa told her that, despite his admonishment, he was actually on her side. Kristal Zati chose that moment to step in. “Given the nature of our discussions,” he said, “I felt it prudent to alert the Guarsai. I will not allow Equestria to gain any sort of upper hoof in negotiations concerning Tambelon.”
“Where?” Solidoa asked, though before either other unicorn could explain, he held up a hoof. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.” He looked to Trixie. “Dame Trixie, Lord Zati unfortunately does make a good point in that, since this did not go through the proper procedures, this could be seen as a bribe. A formal inquiry could be required, which could take several weeks to complete. During this time we would desire you to remain within the Equestrian embassy. Equestria could extradite you, but the Kingdom of Zaldia would look poorly on such an action.”
Trixie blanched at that. Kristal Zati didn’t seem to have a good point at all, but she guessed that the somewhat insular and paranoid mindset of Zaldia saw the matter differently. She had to resist the urge to let out a long and low groan. Her first official meeting with a foreign representative and she’d managed to spark off an international incident – not one that would start any wars, mind, but it would still be an embarrassment to Equestria, and to Princess Luna. Great. Trixie didn’t need to look at him to know that Kristal Zati had a smug smile on his face.
“However,” Solidoa said after a moment, looking again to the platinum map, then back to Trixie, “that would only legally have to apply if the value of the alleged bribe exceeded one thousand puskas.”
Trixie blinked at that, trying to remember the exchange rate between the Equestrian bit and the Zaldian puska, but coming up blank. “Uh,” she said, rubbing a hoof to the back of her head. “I had it commissioned for three hundred bits.”
“So a little less than four hundred puskas,” Solidoa continued, giving Trixie a wry smile – he’d just had a little fun with her, but had meant it in a good-natured way, at least as political matters went. “In that case, the Guarsai will simply confiscate the item, note this incident in our files, but waste neither the King’s time nor that of the Equestrian ambassador by beginning any formal investigations.” He nodded to the map. “We’ll hang this somewhere nice.”
Trixie noticed Zati’s smug grin disappearing, and decided to put on one of her own. “That would be just fine, officer Solidoa. And I’ll be more careful in the future. Lesson learned.”
“W-wait,” Zati said, looking truly flustered for the first time since Trixie had met him an interminable number of hours ago. “Eroskeria saiakera bat egin – ”
“It wasn’t an attempt at bribery, it was a gift from a novice foreign national who was simply unaware of our procedures for foreign gifts,” Solidoa interrupted, purposefully sticking to Prench rather than switching to Zaldian, as Zati had tried to. “Still, your concern for Zaldia’s national security is commendable, Lord Zati. I shall mark our files on you for your vigilance.”
Zati started at that, and Trixie had a sense that there was some subtext going on that Trixie was unable to parse through, given that she wasn’t Zaldian. She decided that it wasn’t really her concern, though, as Solidoa turned back to Trixie and offered a small bow. “I understand that there is a concert at the Errege Auditorio with an Equestrian musician tonight?”
Trixie nodded, glancing at the clock. Her eyes widened – between the time with Zati and the arrival of the Guarsai agent, she’d lost track of time, and was already running late regardless. “Actually, yes – a friend of mine is playing in just a few minutes, and I have tickets…”
“Then I will not keep you. Good evening, Dame Trixie, and enjoy your stay in the Platinum Kingdom.”
He left at that, platinum map in tow, though Trixie didn’t wait to watch him as she proceeded to pack up her documents into her saddlebags. She spared Kristal Zati a final glance, and though she really didn’t want to, she forced herself to step before him and give a bow. “I’ll take my leave then, Lord Zati,” she said. “Equestria thanks you and High Mage Ispelu Magikoa for your time.”
Trixie waited precisely two seconds for a response of any kind, but got none as Zati looked away and began gathering his own things. She decided that she didn’t care that much, and instead left the small meeting room and hurried for the castle’s gates. Despite her need for speed, though, there was a notable happy spring to her canter. She’d secured Zaldian help in studying Tambelon under favorable conditions, shown up a snooty member of Zaldia’s gentry, made a good impression with the Guarsai, and now was off to see a performance by two of the greatest musicians in all of Cissanthema.
Tonight was shaping up to be a very good night, indeed.
---
It was called the Armería Urrutira in Zaldian. Though there were several potential ways to parse that into Equestrian, the ponies of the more powerful nation had a passion for alliteration, and so tended to translate its title as the Arcane Armory. The building managed at once to be grim and imposing as well as beautiful – built of solid stone blocks instead of the normal thin filigree that Zaldians preferred, it still was covered with inlaid platinum and silver and carved crystal. This somewhat compromised its physical robustness – though it remained quite durable – but the metals and crystals channeled magic through them that ensured that the Armería was all but impenetrable to magical invasion.
Of course, strong walls and magical wards, however potent, are not very useful without ponies to tend and supplement them. The guards of the Armería were called the Sorginkeria Behatzailea – the Spell Watch, usually just called the Sorginbehat. All of them were unicorns of considerable magical talent. All of them were personally chosen by the High Mage of Zaldia himself, and bound by magical oaths to the Platinum Throne for the duration of their service to the King.
At a precise time that had never changed once for over five hundred years, the second guard shift of the Sorginbehat relinquished their posts to the third shift, who would guard the Armería for most of the night. The off-duty Sorginbehat left the Armería, returning to their homes or out to spend the night as they chose. The third shift of the Sorginbehat, meanwhile, did a complete sweep of the Armería, posted guards at all the locations visible to the rest of Gotorleku Hiria, and waited.
Two hours into their shift, a green light flashed three times on top of a distant mountain. That was the signal, and on seeing it, word was spread throughout the third shift, and their part in the plan was officially underway. Their role was simple: don’t do anything, and stay in the outer parts of the Armería.
Meanwhile, in an out-of-the-way storage closet in the lowest level of the inner Armería, the stone floor began to glow red.
---
Lyra stepped onto stage to applause and aplomb. If the Zaldian nobility and assorted other guests were in any way affronted by having an Equestrian play for them, as Ohar had suggested earlier, they at least had the politeness to not let it show. The applause for her was somewhat more subdued than for Ohar, but then that was expected and right, too, for the greatest musician in their nation.
Despite the smile on her face – she’d never mastered the stoic expression that Octavia preferred and, in truth, never really tried to – her eyes glided across the audience and she did indeed notice the presence of a lot of horns. Nine in ten of the audience here were unicorns, and so were all the ushers she could see. Although, on the other hoof, the few earth ponies and even fewer pegasi present didn’t seem to be relegated to the peanut gallery. Maybe Zaldia wasn’t some kind of repressive regime, at least not intentionally, and really was just different from Equestria. Or maybe not.
Regardless of which was the case, at the moment Lyra couldn’t worry about it. She looked to where Trixie was supposed to be sitting, in one of the mid-level boxes, but found it to be empty. That, too, was something of a let-down. Trixie’s meeting with the Zaldian representative must have gone on longer than expected.
Still, she couldn’t let that stop the show, either. As the crowd quieted down and Lyra took her seat, though, she couldn’t resist making at least a small jab at Zaldians. She normally played her lyre by holding it in her telekinesis while using her hooves to pluck the strings; however, for this concert, she opted to instead hold her lyre with one foreleg, while the hoof on the other would do the work – as an earth pony would play. She wasn’t quite as good like this, but still more than passable, if she said so herself – and anyway, Zaldians liked small mistakes in their concerts.
If Ohar noticed her personal dig at the unicorns in the audience, he didn’t say. Instead, he simply nodded at her once, she returned the nod, and the two began to play.
As agreed, the two started with Noble Brook’s “Canon in D”. A very low-key and soft piece designed more for cellos, violins, or other bowed string instruments rather than plucked ones, it was nevertheless adaptable enough – and Lyra and Ohar both more than skilled enough – to play the piece on their own instruments. The initial notes started soft, barely audible even in the hushed auditorium, with Lyra taking the part normally reserved for the cello, while Ohar’s somewhat more versatile zither covered the violin sections; Lyra was surprised that he could use the lightest glide of his hoof to simulate the sound of a bow on a violin if he wanted; not precisely the same sound, but close and still melodic. He hadn’t shown that he could do that when practicing with Lyra; a glance over at him showed her that his eyes were closed, but he had a knowing smile on his face. Surprise, he was basically saying.
Lyra closed her own eyes, smiling as well. She increased her tempo slightly, and gradually. Ohar noticed and kept pace easily enough. After another few measures of the now faster pace, Lyra decided that Octavia had a point about the cello parts of this tune being repetitive. She began to add some small, additional flourishes, ‘jazz things up’, as the phrase went. Adding in additional notes necessarily meant speeding up her, and therefore Ohar’s, tempo again – as she was playing the normally-cello parts, that meant that she was the one who was keeping time between the two of them – but Ohar was more than able to keep time.
The canon was now playing at about a quarter again its normal speed when Ohar introduced the next change. The zither, like a guitar or bass, had a body comprised of a hollow wooden chamber that reverberated quite nicely when tapped, particularly in the sound-amplifying concert hall. The two stringed instruments found themselves playing with a small but growing percussion section as Ohar would insert in light taps in between his string motions. Lyra’s own lyre couldn’t be used in the same way, but her hind hooves were unoccupied, and she stood on her two rear legs – a balancing trick she’d learned from Octavia – to add to the percussion, careful to strike the wooden floor beneath her softly so that the clack of her hoof wouldn’t overwhelm Ohar’s own contributions.
And so the two continued for the remainder of the canon, adding in their own personal flourishes to the performance, increasing the tempo more, and fairly soon finding themselves playing a tune that only had a general resemblance at most to the “Canon in D”, unless one was a musician and knew what to listen for.
At length – a few minutes longer than the normal canon – it came to an end. Lyra and Ohar both opened their eyes at the same time as the hoof-stomps of the nobles greeted them. They were generally subdued at the moment, since the next song would soon begin, but Lyra could tell that the two of them had impressed the audience, and a glance at Ohar revealed that the Zaldian musician was no less confident than she was.
During the applause, a door at the back of the theater opened, and a certain blue unicorn bedecked in a purple hat and cape entered, the usher allowing her entrance during the few second’s break. Lyra spotted Trixie, and her smiled widened. Trixie made her way to her box before looking down to Lyra, an embarrassed and apologetic smile on her face for missing the opening of the show, but Lyra just smiled herself and offered a slight shrug and shaking of her head. It couldn’t be helped, and Trixie had only missed seven minutes of what was scheduled to be an hour and a half long concert.
Nothing was wrong at all, and this night was only looking like it was going to keep getting better.
---
Kindle reasoned that a good commander wouldn’t push his way past his troops in a desperate bid to escape the confines of the subterranean tunnels, and so allowed some time for the salamanders to slither on through the hole they had melted in the floor of the Armería before getting out. Even after he had left, he still found himself surrounded by stone passageways, but there was a marked difference between being inside and being underground. Though he had intended not to, he couldn’t conceal his long sigh of relief at being free from his prison, even if only for the moment.
The salamanders, if they noticed, didn’t voice their opinions. Their leader was Jaculus, who was surprisingly smaller and lighter than the rest, but he had a talent for navigating tunnels and mazes that could make a minotaur jealous. Though he hadn’t been in the Armería before, he had studied the floor-plans thoroughly and so without any prompting pointed down one hallway.
The salamanders were off, making very little sound as they glided across the stone floor. Kindle couldn’t say likewise; he wasn’t walking for fear that the sound of his hooves might echo, but the beating of his wings still made noise as he followed Jaculus.
The bowels of the Armería swiftly gave way to a wide hallway. Overhead, the ceiling was replaced by a crystal dome that allowed a brief but much-welcome-to-Kindle glance at the night sky; the dome might have been a curious oversight in a fortress if not for its magical properties. It gathered the light of the celestial bodies overhead and channeled it down along one wall of the hall, and into a doorway of solid metal surrounded by gemstones. The gems were supposed to be glowing bright green, creating a magical field that the most powerful unicorn magician in the world would have needed several days to bring down.
But the gems weren’t glowing. Kindle flew up to the door and pushed on it; it swung inward without resistance or sound, just as they had been promised. The pegasus grinned, as did his salamander troops. They entered quickly, closing the doors behind them. Now behind a safe barrier, Kindle closed his eyes and focused upon the boon that his Queen had extended to him. A second later, his mane and tail seemed to ignite into flames that burned without heat but with ample light, illuminating the contents of the chamber.
It looked like a museum, a dozen pedestals in a long hallway. Each pedestal was made of gem and metal and, like the gems in the door outside, was supposed to be glowing. Also like the ones outside, they weren’t, and Jaculus advanced before the rest of the salamanders up to one pedestal, upon which lay an ordinary-looking bangle. After a moment’s hesitation, he reached out, grabbed it, and lifted it off.
Once again, as they had been promised, nothing happened. There were no alarms, no explosions, no curses or hexes activating. There were only twelve artifacts of unspeakable magical power, the Armory of Zaldia, the weapons they would wield when confronted with the greatest possible threats to their nation – two threats in particular. Princesses Luna and Cadenza, the alicorns. These were all of them weapons expected to even the odds of Zaldia against Equestria and Cavallia, should the unthinkable ever happen and the alicorns go to war.
And they were just sitting here, ripe for the taking.
Kindle smiled, and so did the salamanders. “Take everything,” Kindle instructed.
---
The concert went on longer than scheduled, a natural consequence of Ohar and Lyra being encouraged by both Zaldian tradition, and the fun they were having, to expand and improvise thoroughly during the concert. The finale of the concert was a complete reversal of its opening, playing a lively and rousing piece not unlike the flamenco music of Caballeria, adapted to their own instruments that had much been a competition between Ohar and Lyra to see who was faster on their strings as it was a performance. Lyra had naturally added hoof-beats to her performance, that had quickly turned into a full flamenco dance – and Ohar had surprised her and the crowd by being able to stand up and dance on two hind legs himself, even while maintaining his zither playing. The heavier stallion could put more force behind his taps, but Lyra’s lighter and quicker hooves movements allowed for greater variety. By the end of it, the two of them were both sweating and breathing heavily, and were only barely able to do a mix of bow and collapse before their audience.
As with any real musical battle, the true winners were those who had been able to listen in. They certainly applauded with immense enthusiasm by the end of the show, the many unicorns using their magical talents to set off small firework spells. Lyra noted that Trixie, in her box, wasted little time in making sure that her fireworks-applause was the greatest of them all – though only by a small amount, so as to not draw attention to herself and away from Lyra and Ohar.
The two musicians returned to backstage, tapping hooves – they were too winded still to even try to stumble through Cavallian – and making a beeline each for the inevitable first stop of a performer after a show – the lavatories – followed by the next inevitable stop, the nearest source of water. Once basic bodily functions had been attended to, they found themselves confronted by about a dozen press ponies who wanted pictures of the two performers together to go with the headline that would feature in the morning’s papers. The concert wouldn’t be a front-page story, but it would be the highlight of the paper’s entertainment section.
Lyra and Ohar took the time to answer some small questions and provide some quotes for the papers – nothing of substance, really, but all of it would look nice in print – before a pair of unicorns approached the two. One was Trixie, who slided up to Lyra, while the other said a few words to Ohar before turning to the reporters and speaking to them.
Trixie hugged Lyra before nodding to the other unicorn. “Ohar’s agent,” she said. “By the way, if anyone asks, I’m your agent. It’s how I was able to get backstage.”
Lyra shrugged, not begrudging her friend the lie, though it did remind her that she probably needed to find an agent of her own at some point in the future. Eventually. Not right now, though. “Glad you made it,” she said, as the reporters – who had probably been told that they’d asked enough questions and gotten enough pictures, which was true enough for something that, while a big deal to socialites and entertainers, was otherwise not exactly a breaking news story – started to thin out without much fuss.
Trixie nodded, and once again offered an embarrassed smile. “My meeting went long. Sorry.”
“It’s okay, Trixie,” Lyra said, giving a friendly nuzzle to Trixie. “You didn’t miss anything much.”
Trixie’s sigh of relief was genuine. She’d once opened up to Lyra that her greatest fear was doing something to screw-up her friendships and drive her friends away one by one – a fear she was quite familiar with – and even though the rational part of her mind had to know that there was no way that even missing the concert entirely for work-related reasons could have done that, the irrational part must have been quite concerned. But, Lyra had managed to assuage it.
Lyra turned to Ohar, who had just finished speaking to his own agent. She pointed a hoof at Trixie. “Ohar, questa è la mia amica, Trixie,” she said in Cavallian – fortunately an introduction phrase was still something she could say perfectly. She switched back to Equestrian as she looked to Trixie. “And Trixie, this is Ohar Garai.”
“Urte askotarako,” Trixie said in Zaldian, tapping her hoof to Ohar’s own outstretched one.
Ohar smiled, but his eyes widened in surprise. “Zaldiaz hitz egiten duzu? Harrituta nago. Agian Lyra irakatsi izan duzu, horrela errazagoa denbora bat berriro jolasten etorkizunean izan dugu?”
Trixie blinked a few times at that, eyes wide. “Uh…” she said after a few moments, “…parlez-vous Prançais?”
Lyra couldn’t help herself – she laughed, though she also playfully bumped her flank against Trixie’s own to show that her laugh was in fun. “Come on,” she said. “Me and Ohar both speak Cavallian – mostly – so we can get dinner and I can translate.”
Lyra explained the situation to Ohar, who laughed a little even as Trixie turned a bit pink from embarrassment. Unfortunately, at a word from his agent, he held up his front hooves. “I no can get dinner, dame Heartstrings,” he said in Cavallian. “Obligations elsewhere. I am sorry. Tomorrow night we all go out, celebrate then?”
Lyra nodded as she translated for Trixie, then looked back to Ohar. “Call me Lyra,” she said, extending a hoof.
Ohar wasted little time in bumping it back. “And me, Ohar,” he said. “Buona notte e buona fortuna, dama Lyra.”
“Buona notte,” Lyra returned. Ohar and his agent took off, and Lyra looked to Trixie. “C’mon, let’s get going,” she said, a spring to canter as she set off, Trixie keeping pace. “I’m so hungry I could eat your cooking.”
“My cooking is fantastic,” Trixie countered.
“Your ingredients, on the other hoof…”
Trixie stuck her tongue out at Lyra, and the two set off to see what the restaurants of Zaldia had to offer for dinner.
---
The mare of the Sorginbehat walked through the interior of the Armería on her normal patrol route, now that the appointed time has passed. Her horn was lit up brightly, both to illuminate the relatively dark and tight hallways of the Armería and to cast a continuous spell that would reveal any who were hidden by illusions. She passed by many of the less potent, but still quite versatile and powerful, artifacts contained therein. They were exactly where they were supposed to be.
At length, she reached the hallway that had the main doors of the Armería’s interior, beyond which the greatest and most dangerous artifacts of Zaldia were stored. The gemstones were glowing with an active shield, though the Sorginbehat mare knew the long and nonsensical code-phrase to temporarily lower it. She did so, pushing open the door and glancing in.
It was empty. Every single one of the artifacts was gone, disappeared without a trace. As was expected. The mare nodded at that, letting out long sigh. Then, her horn glowed brighter, casting a new spell as she started galloping for effect.
“Alarm!” she called, for effect, even as her spell ignited the various defensive spells of the Armería. “Alarm! The vault has been broken into! The Armory is gone!”