//------------------------------//
// Keep your enemies close, and your friends closer. 
// Story: The Minoan Crisis 
// by Cosmic Cowboy 
//------------------------------//

“Ambassador! You’re finally here!”

I put on a smile for the fat unicorn in front of me. “You must be Sir Chintzendale. It’s wonderful to meet you.”

“And you of course, as well! I am so glad you arrived in one piece! The journey must have been—” the apparent Knight of Equestria leaned in close and scrunched his eyebrows as if he were imagining the deepest horrors of Tartarus “—grueling.”

I simply shrugged and ruffled my sore wings. Chintzendale’s personal secretary (not mine or the former ambassador’s or even that of the office we shared, but his own private unicorn secretary) had let me into the office of my new deputy ambassador with a smile and eager haste, and I had immediately been set upon by two pampered ponies’ worth of fat and red velvet. Judging by the mounds of paper on his desk, Chintzendale was extremely happy not to be in charge of the embassy anymore.

“Actually, it was rather invigorating. I’ve been sitting behind desks for so long that it was nice to get out and do nothing but fly for a week. Makes me feel like I’m still young, you know?”

Chintzendale pouted. “Oh, you’re not that old, surely? Though I admit I was very impressed that someone who seems so young could already be so accomplished! I would expect a record like yours to belong to an older stallion, not one still in his prime!”

I snorted, and tried not to roll my eyes. “You flatter me, Sir Chintzendale. Do you mind if I call you Chintz?”

Chintz—I decided I was going to call him that whether he agreed to it or not—actually blustered. “If you insist, Mister Ambassador. As they say, you are the boss, after all. Come, let me show you our ropes here in Minos.”

Chintz went on to do his very best to explain the workings of the embassy, but really I paid more attention to him than to anything he said. He was clearly Canterlot stock, well-bred but a little too old to be relevant in the social scene anymore. His type was all too common in government postings like this one, both abroad and provincially. He didn’t give the impression of being content with life here, stationed in a foreign land, no matter how cheery a demeanor he presented. No matter where they came from, aristocrats always betrayed themselves in the same ways, and I knew what to look for.

Chintz looked exactly how one might imagine him from hearing his name. He was built like an armchair and decorated to look like one. He wore a maroon velvet waistcoat over his plum-colored coat, and his mahogany mane was slicked and curled into a swooping front of symmetrical swirls that framed his face.

His laugh was warm and quick to appear, but his smile was a little too ever-present to be entirely sincere— something that one grew to notice when working with bureaucrats and politicians. I ignored his expression and watched his movements, listened to the intonations of his voice. I felt a great weariness in them, a bit of depression, and a suppressed fear being met with a thin ray of hope.

I was right about his frustration with his workload. All his explanations involving them seemed to be accompanied by a joke, a friendly complaint packaged with a wink and a nudge. He hated it all, and he wanted to bond with me over my dislike of it, too.

I could do that.

“Where did you get that secretary of yours, Chintz? She seemed awfully helpful.”

“Isn’t she a darling? Her name is July. She came with me from Canterlot. Her uncle was with the family, you know, and set her up with the job here. She’s terribly passionate about everything she does.”

“Not like that receptionist downstairs, wouldn’t you say, Chintz?”

Chintz glanced to either side conspiratorially and gave me a wink. “Old Perky Peg! She does her work well enough. Quick and efficient usually, but with all the enthusiasm of a sloth trapped in quicksand! No doubt she can be a bit cold at times. It’s all in her name, believe it or not. She’s no good unless she has a mug of coffee in her hoof, and another already down the hatch!”

“You don’t say. . . .”

“But of all the help in the embassy, the best was always dear Elena!”

I looked up from rubbing my chin, still wondering about ‘Perky Peg’. “Elena?”

“Elena diCabra. She was poor Laurel’s personal assistant. Minotaur cow, you know. The most helpful, most knowledgeable being to ever walk these halls, no doubt. Why, she made our tea every morning, since Peggy never shares her brew.”

“You don’t say,” I commented again without thinking.

“I do say, rather! Best tea I ever tasted.”

“You said ‘was’. Where is Elena now?”

Chintz rolled back to raise his eyes upward in thought, bringing a hoof to his chin and squinting. “You know, if I remember right, she went back to her family out in one of the provinces. Couldn’t say which one, though.”

I lowered my head a notch. “So it’s not likely we’d be able to find her again, then?”

“I very much doubt it. Though there’s always more where the help came from, as my uncle Spoiler used to say.”

“I’ll bet. Chintz, what is the usual way for gathering the embassy staff together for a meeting?”

“Ah, I like your thinking, Mister Olive Branch! I’ll have July send a message down to old Perky and she’ll get everyone together in no time! Will the auditorium do for your address? That’s where Laurel used to hold such things. Though perhaps that’s not such a good idea. . . .” Chintz actually looked downcast as he trailed off.

We have an auditorium? “No no, that will be fine for now. I don’t want to make everyone think I’m coming here to change everything they’re familiar with. And thank you.”

Why do we have an auditorium?





Chintz was right about Perky Peg being prompt, and within half an hour the entire staff of the embassy was gathered in our very own auditorium, which not only took up the entire fifth floor of the chancery, but was set up as a theater-in-the-round. When I finally had to ask, Chintz explained that in decades past the Minoans wishing to win favor with the Equestrian ambassadors liked to provide entertainment on their visits to the embassy, and had even paid for this floor to be remodeled as a gift to one ambassador who was a particular patron of the arts.

The theater was round because the stage and the surrounding seating area were both minotaur clayspells, meant to manipulate sound and even provide special effects to the performance. My understanding of the minotaurs’ spell sculpting was rudimentary, but I knew how much of an influence the size of the clayspell could have on the effect, so I wasn’t sure I was comfortable having such a large one in the middle of my embassy, even if it was literally just for show.

Still, I had to admit the sound spells did make it easier to speak personally with my staff.

“Thank you all for coming,” I said, as easily as if I was speaking to one pony on the stage with me instead of two dozen scattered in the seats surrounding me. “As I’m sure you’ve all heard by now, I am the new ambassador to Minos. My name is Olive Branch, and I went to an awful lot of trouble to join you all here.”

I paused to scan the ponies seated around me, eventually finding Dust and Plume, sitting together on their own near a stern-looking mint-green pegasus stallion that had to be part of the security force. I gave them a smile.

“Likewise, I have no doubt that you all know why I’m here, and why I’m here now.” I closed my eyes and took a breath, and let the silence darken the mood in the room. “A week and a half ago, Ambassador Laurel Wreath, your leader and your friend, set sail to an unknown destination and never returned. You know by now that the ship was declared lost at sea with all hands, and Laurel is presumed dead along with her good friend, the Elder Alonso Chrontos.

“I am not her replacement.”

I looked around, into the eyes of the ponies who had volunteered to leave their families and friends and everything they had ever known and understood, to serve their princess in a distant country. Only Dust and Plume met my eyes, but only Dust and Plume had never met Laurel.

I had.

“I knew Laurel Wreath. I worked with her, both before and after she was given her title. We accomplished great things together. Ponies with her passion and commitment to friendship and cooperation are a rare thing. To say she would always do the right thing no matter the consequences is so much of an understatement that it doesn’t need to be said. You all knew her, too.” I saw weak smiles on the faces of my ponies—Laurel’s ponies—the same weak, watery smile I felt on my own.

“She was an inspiration as much as she was inspired by everyone she met, and she never stopped working to bring peace to the world she shared with us.”

I took a shaky breath, and turned the feelings making my eyes water into a fire. “But someone put an end to her work.”

All around me, ponies shifted. I turned around, wanting to look everypony in the eye at least once. “I’m sure you all have wondered, whispered among yourselves, but it is true. Princess Celestia sent me here now because she has evidence that Laurel’s death was not an accident. And they acted now of all times because they needed her gone for what’s coming next.”

I relaxed, just a bit, shrinking into myself. “But we don’t know what that is. We don’t know who it is. Laurel would have known best, and that’s why she’s gone.

“You are the next best thing.”

I gave my ponies a meaningful look, each of them in turn. “I can do what Celestia needs me to do, but I need to know this city. I need to know these people, these minotaurs. You, my ponies, Laurel’s ponies, you know these things. You can help me, teach me what I need to know, so I can find out who did this to us and how to stop them. And together, we can be ready for them.”

I found Chintz in the back, July sitting behind him and to the side. He looked up at me with uncertainty in his eyes. His fear was back.

“I’m sorry to say it, but whoever was behind Laurel’s murder won’t sit back and let me take up her mantle here in Minos. There will be more attacks. They might not be as premeditated, or they might be even more subtle. I don’t know. The honest truth is that I might not be the only target.”

All around me, I saw the beginnings of panic. That was no good. Ponies panicked much too easily. I couldn’t afford that. I needed to bring out their courage in the face of the fear.

“But I’m not afraid. Do you know why?” The faces around me looked up all as one, as if they really were asking me why. I knelt down at the edge of the stage and leaned my head forward to the front rows, doing my best to radiate confidence and calm. “It’s because you’re a match for them, whoever they are. They had to get Laurel away from you completely before they could lay a finger on her, and it’s because they know you would have kept her safe from them.

“You had no way of knowing what would happen. It’s not your fault, no matter how much it may feel like it sometimes, when you’re lying awake and feeling haunted. I know how that feels. But now we do know, now we are prepared, and nothing can stop us when we work together in Harmony!”

Behind me, Lightning Dust gave a whoop, quickly followed by a cheer from Plume. A spell of silence seemed to break from over the rest of the group, and little by little, they all began to cheer. I stood up, turned to give a smile back at my two guards, and raised a hoof as my ponies shouted together for Equestria, Harmony, and the Princesses.





“Nice speech, Olive. You sure I shouldn’t call you ‘sir’?” Lightning Dust said immediately after stepping into my office. My office was right next to Chintz’s, but I swear it was smaller. At any rate, it really wasn’t big enough for anything more than a one-on-one meeting like this. 

I rolled my eyes as I sat down behind my new desk. “No, that’s alright. Thanks for coming, by the way. I hope you’ve had time to get settled.”

Dust glanced around, and, finding nowhere to sit, leaned against the wall instead. “Eh, I got everything of mine from the cart and brought it up. The new quarters aren’t bad. They’re bigger and nicer than what we had in Canterlot. I haven’t met whoever I’m bunking with, though.”

“So things could still turn out to be worse than before, is that it?” I asked with a smile.

Dust returned it. “You never know.”

“True enough, I guess.”

With nothing much better to do, I began exploring the desk. It seemed like most everything had been cleaned out after Laurel. . . was lost, except for some basic office supplies and a little speaker and microphone that I presumed let me talk to Perky, or maybe July. I still wasn’t sure where she fit in, exactly.

“Can I ask what you’re up to?”

I looked up to see Dust giving me a stinkeye. “‘Up to’?” I repeated.

“Putting Plume in charge of the whole security force. Half of that speech was about being ready for whatever might happen, and you just put all of that squarely on Plume’s withers. How do you expect him to handle all that?”

“Pretty well, I hope. It is my life at stake, after all.”

She gave me a look like I was a foal asking her to play patty-cake. “Sir—,” I winced theatrically, but she ignored it, “—this is Plume we’re talking about. Plume Plume. Our Corporal Plumage. He can hardly handle his own security walking down the stairs, let alone an entire embassy’s. He can’t do this.”

I smiled and leaned back in the very comfortable chair, thinking about its previous owner. “I think he may yet surprise you.”

“Then I just hope he doesn’t surprise you.”

I let my head loll to the side as I gave her my most simpering look. “Aw, Dusty, you do care!”

She shook her head gently and looked away with a half-smile. “So what about me, then? What are your crazy plans for me?”

I chuckled. Having crazy plans was an experience that not enough people appreciated. “You’re gonna be my bodyguard.”

She leveled a stare at me, one eyebrow raised high. “. . .Really? That’s all?”

I nodded happily. “Yep! You’re the one actually in charge of me not dying. How do you think you’ll handle it?”

She snorted and her eyes became hollow. “Pretty well, I hope. It’s only your life on the line.”

“Yours too, probably.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No—” My somewhat-witty reply was cut off as the speaker on my desk buzzed. I pressed a hoof to the button and spoke into the microphone. “Yes?”

It was Percolator Peggy’s voice that answered me. “Sir, you have visitors. Elder Nuno diPatras and an entourage. Shall I send them up or make an appointment?”

I took my hoof off the button. “Well, that’s a good way to get things rolling, don’t you think?” I asked Dust. I pressed it again and answered my favorite receptionist. “Go ahead and send them up, Peggy. I’ll meet them in my office.” Dust looked around my tiny room doubtfully. “The big one outside, not here,” I told her.

“What do you want me to do, boss?”

“You can join us. He brought his ‘entourage’; I can bring mine.”

“I feel so special.”

“I’m glad.”

Chintz was out and about somewhere doing who-knows-what, so it was just us and an outer office that was entirely too big. The whole floor was reserved for Chintz, July, and me, and all three of us had quarters on other floors, with Chintz and I sharing the top floor right above the office and July with the general staff on the fourth. The “outer office” was really more of a conference room than anything else, but after the auditorium I stopped questioning the layout of the place.

I took my place at the head of a long conference table and Dust posted herself in the corner behind me like a good little guard, and we waited for July to let the visitors in, which didn’t take long at all.

The first minotaur to walk in was tall and straight, and had shoulders only slightly less broad than the average bull. He had a serious face and a light grey coat, and was wearing a formal crimson toga and a business tie, sporting golden armbands and rings on at least three fingers. I didn’t doubt that this was the Elder that had come to see me, and sure enough, the bull that followed was much younger and was less self-confident, though he was also dressed in enough finery that he was clearly not a retainer.

The third and last was a cow, taller and bulkier than the average, but still smooth and feminine. She wore a very simple, practical pocketed gown over her soft purple coat, and walked with a different purpose to her movements than the other two. If I had to guess, I would say she was a servant or an assistant, and not a politician herself, though I wouldn’t have been surprised to discover otherwise.

I stood from my seat as they entered and smiled warmly as I welcomed them to the embassy. Just as I suspected, the lead bull stepped forward and introduced himself.

“Greetings, Ambassador. Welcome to our city. I am Elder Nuno diPatras, and this is my associate, Vicente il Floros,” he said, motioning to the bull who stood beside him. “And this is Elena diCabra, an employee of my family’s who has a great deal of experience with your embassy and its dealings, and has agreed to assist us in our. . . discussions.”

I straightened at that. “Elena? Am I right in presuming that you are the same Elena that once worked for my predecessor?”

Elena gave a small bow. “That is right, Ambassador. Some time ago I returned to my family’s ancestral employment at the estate of Patras. But now I believe you may have need of my services, so I have agreed with my lord’s proposal that I return here again to work for the Equestrian Embassy.”

I blinked. “Well I can hardly object to an offer like that! I have heard wonderful things about you, Miss diCabra. Please, all of you, have a seat wherever you like.”

The minotaurs bowed graciously and took their seats after I took mine, Nuno two spots to my right with Vicente across from him after only a moment’s hesitation, and Elena a respectful distance farther down on the left.

“I thank you, Ambassador,” Nuno began. “Forgive me for foregoing further pleasantries, but I am afraid time is rather critical for our purposes.”

“That’s quite alright, Elder. But if I may ask, what might those purposes be?”

Nuno slowly smiled. “I am glad you think to ask. Our memories may not be any longer than ponies’, but we still hear stories from our elders that. . . . Well. . . .”

I tried not to think about how a weaker pony might have taken offense at his implication. “So what is it, then?” I prompted.

“Apologies. Perhaps our aims might best be summarized by stating that we were the late Ambassador Laurel Wreath’s allies in forum. Elder Chrontos was the chief among us, but. . . .”

“I understand, Elder diPatras.” I glanced at Elena, who was watching me calmly with her hands in her lap. Of course, anyone could claim to be Laurel’s friends, but if anyone outside the embassy could be trusted to vouch for that claim, it would be Elena. Bringing her was a smart move. Also a lucky one for him to be able to make. Hmmm. I resolved to look into the matter later.

Nuno went on. “As you must be aware, the election forum to fill Alonso’s spot on the Council is to take place tomorrow, and Laurel’s targeting in his assassination was most likely intended to prevent Equestrian influence there. But thanks to your Princess’s swift reaction and your own haste in arriving here, that part of our adversaries’ plan, at least, is now foiled.”

I nodded. So far he hadn’t said anything that came as new information to me.

He turned in his seat and gestured to the young bull sitting across from him. “Vicente is the one that my associates and I wish to see elected to the position.”

I turned my eyes to Vicente. He was certainly younger, but he was still well into adulthood. He was much shorter than Nuno, and as I had observed before, less sure in his movements. I wasn’t sure how he felt about all this. But the fact that Nuno was doing all the talking for him was all the evidence I needed to see that he was a pawn and not a player. I looked back to Nuno.

“Do you know who else is going to be running?”

He nodded gravely. “There are two other candidates, but only one worth mentioning. His name is Gonzalo diTantalo.”

At the mention of the name, Vicente finally reacted, if only to look away from me. “And the other?”

Nuno shook his head slightly. “His name is Felix Eleano, but he is not worth mentioning because he is a dummy candidate working for Gonzalo.”

I narrowed my eyes. So that’s how it’s going to be, is it? “So tell me about Gonzalo.”

“He is a teacher at the university. He is also one of the strongest voices in forum.”

I brought my hooves together, resting my head on them. “And aside from fixing the election in his favor, why shouldn't he be in office?”

Nuno glanced to Vicente, who gave him a look I might have called sullen. I bit my cheek as I thought about that. Nuno looked back at me before answering. “Gonzalo is the lead proponent of the Neo-Isolationist school, both at the university and the forum community. His primary goal in running for the Council is to end all ties with the outside world and make Minos totally independent and self-sufficient. He calls Equestria the greatest obstacle to Minos’s growth as a civilization.”

I raised my eyebrows at the far wall. “Oh, is that all? With all this intrigue surrounding him, I almost expected you to say he was calling for war.”

I expected a minor scolding for taking the matter too lightly, but what Nuno did instead bothered me far more: he lowered his gaze.

I stared him in silence. “He’s not actually. . . .”

Nuno shook his head. “No, not openly. But I know him. He’s ambitious enough that he won’t stop at isolation, not if he actually gets it. He’ll want growth, and then Equestria will be an obstacle again. He’s not afraid of you.”

Out of reflex I almost asked why he should be afraid of us, but then I wondered.

Most ponies never thought about it, but the truth was that Equestria was far and away the number one superpower of the world. We controlled not only over half of the world’s magic, but the very sun and moon themselves. Our rulers were gods. The idea of another country actually challenging us—or having reason to—was something any Equestrian could go their whole lives without considering, but to the rest of the world our overwhelming superiority wasn’t just a fact of life, but a shadow to live under.

I had gotten used to this feeling while living among foreign cultures. Most peoples were indifferent or even welcoming to the idea, but occasionally someone resented it.

It was another sign of our ridiculous strength as a nation that our citizens were unaware of this, but sometimes there was resistance. And the fact that we must use the word “resistance” remains one of the Princess’s greatest personal worries. We as a nation don’t want to rule or to oppress. We want friends, but it’s hard to be seen as a friend by someone who might as well be an infant when compared with you, or an ant.

But Minos. . . .

I thought back to the story I had related to Dust that night, out on the desert, of the Minoan king and his golden armada, halted completely by the Princesses in an act of intervention. That had been the ancient minotaurs, before they began to trade and commune with the rest of the world, before they developed their culture. Before they developed their magic.

Today, the Minoan clayspell was the most efficient, precise form of magic known to exist, outside of the essence of life itself. Minotaur sculptors came up with new uses for their craft every month, or so the books said. Some of them were truly massive, and even more powerful. . . .

Could they. . . . Could they seriously challenge Equestria, if they really wanted to?

Nuno said Gonzalo wasn’t afraid of us. The very fact that I was even thinking about this almost made me sick, but if a creature like that took control of a people like this. . . .

I decided to stop thinking about it.

I took a deep breath. “Do you suspect Gonzalo of being behind the murders?”

Nuno tensed and looked to Vicente, and I watched them closely. Vicente looked pointedly back at Nuno, then Nuno spoke. “There is no evidence,” he said in a measured tone, “and a number of other likely suspects.”

I see. So Vicente isn’t totally set against Gonzalo, even now. Nuno has to watch what he says around him. Vicente must carry more weight in this election than I thought.

“What does Gonzalo teach?” I asked, suddenly curious

Nuno looked slightly surprised at the question. “Philosophy and linguistics.”

Of course he does. “How long has he taught?”

Nuno purse his lip and looked up in thought. Must not be common knowledge. Maybe Gonzalo didn’t become well-known until after he started teaching? “I’m not sure. Over five years, I think. Probably more.”

“More.” I turned in surprise to Vicente, who had finally decided to speak. “At least eight. I took a class from him when I was a student there.”

I watched him curiously. He still wouldn’t look at me. I think it’s time to find out who Vicente really is. “Vicente, what makes the Equestrian ambassador is so important to this election?”

That finally got him to look me in the eye. He considered me for a moment before answering. “Gonzalo has had over a week to campaign, since Alonso’s death was declared officially. He’s been hoping for a spot on the Council for a long time, and everyone already knows his position. He almost didn’t need another week to win most of the votes. No one else was prepared for a surprise election like he was. I’ve been campaigning all week too, but most of that was preparing and organizing. If nothing changes, I won’t stand a chance.”

Big surprise. “But why would Laurel Wreath have made any difference? If Alonso’s death wasn’t an accident, then Laurel’s certainly wasn’t. Someone went to a lot of trouble to get her onto a nameless ship alone.”

“She represented the Princess,” Vicente answered quickly. “Not officially, in most cases, but there’s little difference in practice. She often attended forums and participated in our debates, and her opinion was taken as typical of the Equestrian governing body, and by extension, the Princess.”

Nuno sat up to speak. “I can only imagine that whoever was responsible for the murders didn’t want Celestia’s agent to be active in the aftermath of their attack. You know as well as we do how suspicious she would be of any candidate elected in such a climate, if she knew the details. I suspect the plan was to keep the embassy crippled and distracted until the Council position was secured. After that, they could cover up the more suspicious details before any report was sent to Canterlot.”

That’s an interestingly complete answer, Mister diPatras. I don’t think you’re a bad enough actor to give away a whole evil plan under the guise of a guess, though, so for now let’s look elsewhere.

How much did Celestia know about what happened when she sent me? If Nuno’s assessment of the situation was accurate, it was more than anyone expected her to. Whoever the conspirators were, she must have already suspected they existed and what their motives and goals were. I knew she had received a “tip” about what happened and what it meant, and so she sent me to be here, which is apparently exactly what Laurel’s killers didn’t want.

Still, something about Nuno’s theory didn’t sit right with me. It didn’t seem to me like killing an ambassador to buy a couple weeks of foggy intelligence for Canterlot was a solid plan. As a working theory and perhaps a public cause for justice it was fine, but I suspected there was something more to it.

My gaze flicked to Elena. I would have to find out everything Laurel knew that wasn’t lost with her.

I stirred from my musings and addressed Vicente again. “And you really think having my support will be enough for you to win?”

Vicente sighed through his nose, looking grim. “It’s not certain. I suspect most forum-goers have already made up their minds one way or the other, but I know there many still on the fence waiting for something like this. Even those already decided for Gonzalo might still be swayed when they learn that you’re here, and invested in the election.”

“Gonzalo’s main advantage is his force of presence in the eye of the public,” Nuno added. “He’s very vocal and recognizable, and Vicente just doesn’t have the same notoriety. I have a number of prominent friends in the forums who are dedicated as I am to preventing bulls like Gonzalo from office, and with our support the scales are much less unbalanced than they would be otherwise. You should be enough to tip them.”

It sounds like Vicente isn’t normally included in Nuno’s circle of friends. I wonder how his stance differs from theirs. They chose to back him in this, at least, and it’s not like I have any better options. I nodded. “Alright. What can I do to help?”

Nuno seemed to relax, though Vicente continued to look dour and Elena just continued to sit there patiently. “It’s really not much,” Nuno said. “What we need is for you to speak at the election forum tomorrow, to announce the Princess’s endorsement of Vicente.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Official endorsement? That doesn’t seem like a good precedent to set. Didn’t you say that Laurel didn’t do that?”

“Occasionally she did. Never in any matter as important as this, but nothing of this magnitude ever came up in her time here. I can’t speak for other nations, but here in Minos, your Princess has been a part of almost every such decision, if not often directly. This time, though, an indirect action doesn’t look to be sufficient. Or appropriate, considering recent events. Historically, we hold her will in such matters very highly.”

I furrowed my brow. I didn’t feel good about this. I hadn’t read anything in the books Celestia provided for me on Minos about her taking a hoof in their politics like what Nuno claimed. If it was true, I was sure that Celestia would have forewarned me. I had never done anything like so direct and manipulative before in any other country I served in, and certainly not in anything so important as an emergency election to the highest level of government.

I knew I had instructions to ensure that the results of this election were favorable to Equestria, but this? Invoking Celestia’s name in support of a puppet candidate? It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like friendship. It felt like control. It felt…

It felt like oppression.

I thought about Gonzalo, about his resentment for the unreachable power that Equestria represented to him, the obstacle to his people’s growth. About his defiance of that power. If he only knew it like this, then who was I to judge him, to call him evil?

It’s time to grow up.

I sat there, at the head of my new conference table, in my new embassy that I had rushed two foals over sixteen hundred miles to reach in time for this election, in a meeting with one of the most powerful bulls in Minos, conspiring against a conspirator, and I was being asked to abuse power to enforce friendship. And if Nuno had it right, then Celestia had been playing this game for generations, ever since this embassy was first established.

“I’m sorry, but I need to think about it.”

Nuno blinked. “What? But— Gonzalo!”

“I know, and I believe you, but before I make this decision I need to consult with Celestia to be sure. Like you said, all there is left to do is speak at the forum, right? I’ll send word to you tomorrow before the forum convenes. I promise.”

Nuno exhaled sharply, but didn’t raise any more objections. Vicente was looking at me, at least, actually looking mildly interested for once. Nuno rose to his feet and gave his thanks for my time, and then the two of them were gone.

After the doors closed behind them, Elena stood up and approached my chair. She gave another small bow. “Ambassador, if it pleases you, I will move my belongings into the quarters I previously occupied, and begin work right away.”

I nodded, my mind still buzzing. “That’s fine, Elena. Thank you. I’ll call for you later. I want to talk with you.”

“Of course, Ambassador.”

Then she left as well, leaving just me and Dust, alone again.

“Gyaaaaahhhhh!” I exclaimed, sinking down under the table.

Dust snorted and trotted over to plop herself into a chair. “I’ve decided I’m fine with being the entourage.”

“I don’t get it,” I said, my voice probably muffled by the table pressing against my snout. “The High Eyrie was never like this. Zebrica was definitely never like this. Canterlot doesn’t come close to this! How was I supposed to know Laurel of all ponies had the hard mission?”

“Weren’t you the one saying Laurel was all inspiring and passionate and stuff?”

I huffed and pulled myself back up onto the seat. “Yeah, but she couldn’t have been the best. Everyone’s inspiring sometimes. It’s easy to be inspiring when you’re dead. No offense to her, of course.”

Dust rolled her eyes. “Of course not.”

“But to be really honest, she was the youngest, most inexperienced ambassador Equestria had. I’m worried that she was sent here because of that, so she wouldn’t question what she was doing here.”

“Is it really all that bad, to use Celestia’s say-so to help keep that Gonzo guy from winning? It sounds like he’s behind it all anyway.”

I sighed. “He could be. But it’s the reason he could be that’s the problem here. And it would be a little bad in and of itself, yeah. It’s not good policy to try to control or even directly influence a foreign power in their own affairs like this, especially not as directly as this.”

“But isn’t that what you said you were supposed to do, back when we were waiting for the zmey to go to sleep? You said we weren’t going to fix the election, but it still sounded like we were going to help it, one way or the other.”

“I thought we were going to be. . . I don’t know, just speaking up for the guy we want, on our own. That’s why Laurel did so well here. She was a master debater.” I held up a hoof immediately to forestall Dust’s inevitable lewd comment, but I couldn’t stop her from snickering. “Seriously, though, politicking is something we ambassadors are good at. That’s what I’ve been preparing for, and I’m pretty sure that’s what Laurel has been doing.”

“What makes you say that?”

I smiled. I never figured Dust to actually be interested in politics. Guess Celestia was right after all. “Because people are watching. From all around the world. If Equestrian ambassadors had really been throwing the Princess’s weight around”—that earned me another snicker from Dust, which I ignored—“all these years in the Minoan forums, other countries would have heard about it. They would have seen it as big, bad Equestria bossing a smaller country around. And they wouldn’t stay quiet about that, at least not most of them.”

“Are countries really that much like playground foals?”

“Surprisingly, yeah.”

“Huh. So, what do you think Celestia’s going to say?”

I sighed again. “Probably to do whatever I think is right in the moment when it really matters. So nothing actually useful.”

“Heh. I’ve never spoken to her, but somehow I still know exactly what that feel like.”

“Most ponies do. It’s kind of our collective expectation of her. That she’s wise and inscrutable, but still somehow tells you exactly what you need to and yet don’t want to hear.”

“Mmm. So. . . . How does that work, you ‘consulting’ with the Princess?”

“All the embassies have instant communication set up with her. It’s how they knew we were coming before we got here.”

“Yeah, but. . . how does it work? It’s like a spell, right?”

I gave a hollow laugh, still lounging in my oversized swivel chair. The chairs around the table were all the same, and were designed in an attempt to be comfortable for both minotaurs and ponies. As a result, they weren’t really comfortable for either. “Yeah, it’s ‘like’ a spell. A couple of the unicorns on staff will know it. They’ll be able to send the Princess a letter directly, and her reply will come to them the same way.”

“And. . . the election is tomorrow, right?”

“Barring catastrophic natural disaster or the like, yeah.” I sighed once more. “I guess I shouldn’t put it off any longer, huh?”

“I’m guessing not, not if there might be a war on the line.”

I hopped down off the seat. “Heh. Thanks for caring, Dust,” I said as I headed for the office door, Dust getting up to follow me.

“Must be what I’m here for.”










~ End Part 1 ~