Attempting to sit in a chair that was designed for ponies, Zachery found, was much harder to do in practice. Even the train booths, while much lower than he was used to, gave him room to wiggle. After a moment of trying to place his legs in a way that didn’t have them sticking out at odd angles, he gave up and resigned himself to sit on the chair cross legged, an awkward almost crouch that left him twitching at the pressure on his feet. Absentmindedly, Zachery reached out and grabbed a familiar fruit that was set aside on the large meeting table in front of him.
He didn’t eat the fruit. Instead, he spun it, giving him something else to look at other than the slack jawed stares from the ponies at the table. Slack jawed stares that transitioned between him, Twilight, Big Mac, and Cadence. None of the ponies had attempted to speak to him again. Not after the initial outburst of rapidly fired questions that the meeting had started on. Not even Big Mac who held a deeply set frown on his face moved to speak. The ponies just sat there and stared at him, seemingly trying to will the others around them to speak.
It was unnerving. Not that he could blame their silence. What could you do when your most controversial, most sure-fire armour-piercing questions were answered with bewilderment, and in some cases ambiguity due to ignorance? A solid hour and a half of questions on the ponies’ part and nothing came from it. Or, at least nothing that they were expecting. Though he wasn’t sure what they were trying to uncover with their line of questioning.
“Do you eat meat?” He answered with a smile, a flash of teeth, and a ‘yes’. “Have you eaten ponies?” Was met with a solid no, and rebuttal with a ‘why would I?’ A pony, almost never the same one that asked the first question would shout back with, “Because that’s what humans do!” To that he replied with an innocent ‘have you seen any other humans?’ and that was always answered with a “No.”
For much longer than he liked, than any normal sane person would like, the questions circled aimlessly in that same format.
“Have you done X?” No. “Humans do X!” Have you seen other humans do x? “No.” Have you seen other humans? “No.”
His smile didn’t strain and his outward curiosity did not fade as he resisted the urge to slam his head against the table as the ponies asked the same questions, just worded a little differently, over and over again. To say that he wanted it to be over with would be an understatement. Or just for them to realize that they were getting nowhere with the type of questions they were demanding answers to. Instead, the militia and a choice few reporters forged on with rapidly spat pointless questions which did not give any other creature an opening to speak.
Now they sat in silence waiting for someone to talk. Thirty minutes ago he realized that they didn’t want to end the meeting. The ponies that grilled him probably wanted something to bring back other than 'we met a human and none of the rumors were true' to their respective bosses. So the ponies sat staring at the table and poking at the refreshments as he complemented forcing them to act by attempting to leave.
The awkwardness of his sitting position degraded further; putting more pressure on his back. With a small grimace he pushed his spine back stretching his shoulder blades with a few cracks. A few of the ponies jumped in their seats startled by his slow movements. Others either pretended that they weren’t staring him down, or didn’t bother to hide their intense stares.
Those ponies, with their stubbornness and hair brain theories, weren’t the ones that held his interest.
He let the fruit wobble to a stop, and used his now free hand to prop his head up as he leaned forward on the table. Then he smiled. Mouth opened just enough to show what on Standing Refuge would be a friendly flash of teeth.
Blinding lights exploded in front of him, and pencil wielding reporters scratched madly into notebooks that were already overflowing with granite. Slowly his clumsy, but peaceful motions eased the tension the ponies themselves created. In that moment of openness they showed him where they stood. Excitement at his living myth status, fear because of the rumours that they themselves had spread, skepticism at his seemingly agreeable attitude…
Pure undiluted anger.
He picked up the strange fruit and bit into it appearing not to glance at the pony that sat just out of his field of vision.
Light green-brown mane, curly. Orange-yellow coat, no spots or freckles. A mare who had glared at him with such hate when he entered that he almost rose to her challenge. On the far side, a sickly-looking brown stallion that had yet to show emotion since his grand entrance. A few seats down from him a stallion reporter with a pale gold coat and a paler mane.
Hello. Don’t mind me, just getting my picture out there before you can turn the rest of Equestria against Twilight and Luna. You don’t mind having your coupe delayed, do you?
He could almost taste their hate. A solid mass of how-dare-you and you-will-suffer that leaked and congealed around them. A mass that went positively jagged when he had addressed Twilight so plainly.
It was strange, what one could be thankful for. If he hadn’t been injured so thoroughly he would have spat sparks back at them. As luck would have it, the soreness he felt from attempting to posture gave him time to realize what he was doing before he sent the room into chaos. Still, he wanted to attack. Just for the fact that he knew all he could do was slow down their coupe.
Influence has already been tipped to the Demon King's side. Twilight's and Luna's lies had ensured that. No matter how innocent or ignorant he acted to the ponies, the fact that they were lied to will never dull. Big Mac's glare at Twilight echoed those thoughts. Assuming that there were at most four million ponies in Equestria. All it would take is a eighth of them harbouring distrust for Luna and Twilight to give the Demon King five-hundred thousand possible recruits.
Destroying the smoke and mirrors Twilight and Luna had put up left them vulnerable. Not that he regretted it. Twilight was going to walk into a trap and he had to stop her. True, he had to burn down the entire proverbial forest to do so, but now they couldn’t use her own building anger against her.
Twilight had to know that she was about to blast that poor loud mare across the room. Though, by the way Twilight studied him, he had to guess that she didn’t notice her own magic going haywire. Which didn’t make sense. Everyone had to take lessons in magic control since uncontrolled magic could destroy everything in an enclosed space. Then again ponies to his limited knowledge didn’t live in tightly compacted city-states.
He shot a quick glance at Twilight. That explained too much. Distracting himself from what was essentially a powerful untrained mage he hummed under his breath. Just another thing he had to ignore right now, including the guards that he had slipped by to get here. Guards who, after the meeting was officially over, are going to interrogate him. Or at least deeply question him while being as friendly as possible. At least they would try to be friendly. He couldn’t imagine that they would be too chipper after he slipped past them during their rotations, and was able to stumble through the castle undetected long enough to find this room.
He was prepared for that. His perfect expression of confusion practiced tirelessly in a mirror. He was sure they would rack their brains trying to figure out how he got past them. Let them think it was dumb luck or an erroneous mistake on their part, he was going to keep the truth to himself.
Silently he placed down the pit of a freshly eaten fruit with the four others that followed a prominent grain in the table. Reporters and militia launched into whispered discussions their voices low as they commented to each other on his strangeness.
Ponies, were so loud.
Zachery kept his face straight as the Curly-maned mare who had glared at him raised a hoof and poked at the stallion that sat beside her. The stallion had a hole-filled-pot resting on top of his long silver-white mane. His fur was a muddled greyish blue, and he was nearly doubled over in barely held back anxiety. It was clear who the puppet was in their situation, no matter what the medallions pinned to the stallion’s shirt implied.
Not that he understood what said medallions stood for.
“Um.”
A different stallion, a pegasus, with a light off white colour for his coat and a soft green for his mane spoke. What the stallion was wearing was strange to say in the least. He was dressed as a militia knight complete with an oversized bucket threatening to encompass his head. He was dressed as a reporter. Quills and ink poking out of the saddlebags fastened to his back. The stallion's amber eyes widened as he realized that the whole room was now paying attention to him.
Fumbling with his notepad harness the stallion’s wings flapped nervously at his sides as he forced himself to stare directly at him. With effort a smile cracked along the stallion’s muzzle, and he spoke. “Hi, I’m Dried Ink, from the North Trottingham Spread.” The now dubbed, Dried Ink explained, his back straightening slightly with every word he managed to squeak out. “I have a few questions.”
He flashed a kind smile that sent off another barrage of flashes, “Ask away.”
Dried Ink wet his lips, “You said that you were using a translation spell?”
“Yes, I did.” He replied, not pleasantly surprised, but not entirely bothered that he finally got asked a question that he couldn’t preface with ‘no’, “It’s not so great, but it works good enough.”
“How so?” Dried Ink alternated between speaking and using his mouth to write. A very strange process that had Zachery thinking about how much second hand spit must transfer between ponies on a regular basis.
“The spell does direct translations.” Zachery affirmed, shifting again in his seat, “If there is no direct translation for a word all I hear is noise. Which is your language.”
Dried Ink looked up from his note pad the pencil sticking out of his mouth at an odd angle. “So if I say Canterlot.”
“It’s noise but it’s a noise that I know means the name of the city, village, settlement, we’re in.” Zachery answered, raising a few eyebrows around the room.
“City, village, settlement?” Cadence asked, taking her chance now that the passions of the initial scream-for-all seemed to have left the other ponies systems.
“Yes.” Zachery answered turning his head to briefly meet the questioning looks directed at him. “It means about the same thing, right? An area where many creatures, ponies, live.”
“Well, yes," Candace replied, pursing her lips, "but the number of ponies that live in those areas range widely. It’s a little strange to hear those terms used in the same way.”
“A lot is a lot.” He replied, shrugging, “The numbers that tell the difference between a city, village, and settlement don’t matter.”
“It does when you have over two billion ponies.” Dried Ink expressed.
He looked at Dried Ink whose pencil was leaving little wet marks where he had dropped it on his notepad. Other little details filtered through his head. The creases from the anger of the ponies that he marked as the Demon King's. The unease from the ponies who long ago realize that they had nothing to offer to the meeting. The occasional twitch from Twilight who was waiting for an acceptable moment to speak. Dried Ink’s words stumbled in his head, bumping into those little details. None of the ponies showed any semblance of surprise. He knew what that meant but, "T-two billion?”
“That’s the amount of ponies that are in the world.” Twilight advised sheepishly in the face of the militia and reporters’ scrutiny, “I didn’t really think that it was an important thing to go over.”
“Why not?” Cadence's tone demanded why Twilight of all ponies would allow any creature to be that ignorant of their surroundings.
Twilight's ears twitched back, “When we brought Zachery here we never wanted to expose him to this much of Equestria.”
“What were you thinking bringing him to Equestria in the first place?” Big Mac rumbled, evidently having enough of Twilight dodging questions.
“It wasn't part of our original plan." Twilight answered, pushed to the truth by the growing grumbles in the crowd, "At the beginning we really didn’t know if humans still existed. We were just trying to see if the myths were true.”
“You can’t really expect us to believe you, do you Twilight? You lied to our faces before.” Big Mac spoke gruffly.
“I know you don’t think you can trust me. But I was not trying to be malicious. I was just trying to protect Equestria and uphold our values-”
The Mulberry Mare sneered having had time to gain back some of her earlier steam, “By lying to us, and your fellow princess?”
“By trying to keep ponies from rioting and making a bigger mess.” Twilight remarked sharply as she glared down at the Mulberry Mare, “By trying to keep an already injured creature safe.”
“Who?” Candace asked.
“Zachery.” Twilight answered back with absolute certainty, “That is the only reason he is in Equestria. If we left him where he was he would have died. I will not let any creature die due to my inactions.”
That declaration hushed the ponies into silence. Seeing that she had mostly jumped out of her chair, had both hooves on the table, and was seconds away from giving the Mulberry Mare the stinkiest of stink eyes, she couldn’t blame them.
It took a couple of beats before someone else spoke, “The injury that Zachery has,” the reporter from the Canterlot Times inquired, “does it cause stiffness?”
Twilight, who still leaned over the table, staggered at the reporter's question, “No.” She answered, “Why would you think-”
Twilight was looking at him. He could feel her eyes on him. But the cognitive part of his mind was far away calculating numbers that someone of his occupation had no business calculating.
“Zachery?”
Her voice was tinged with concern, but all his mind could process was, “Two billion.” He whispered. The number didn’t make sense. There were only seven-hundred million humans. How could there be two billion ponies?
“Yes,” Twilight spoke slowly, “There are two billion ponies, give or take a few thousand.” She took a moment to really consider what he just said, “You know how much a billion is? How do you know how much a billion is?”
His mouth worked soundlessly for a beat as he tried to find a suitable answer to Twilight's question, “I was talking to Pinkie Pie about stars and how many there were.” His mind rushed to fill in gaps. “We started talking about numbers.” And now his mouth was dry, “If each grain of sand was a number, a tablespoon of sand would be a thousand. A million would equal a cup of sand, and a billion a mixing bowl.”
“That's, actually accurate given the limitations.” Twilight expressed, her tone changing as she made the switch to teaching mode, “There are two mixing bowls of ponies in the world.” A small frown crossed Twilight's face, "Remind me to give you a better lesson in numbers.”
“It doesn’t look like there’s a billion ponies here.” He pressed, inwardly wincing at the rashness of his voice. There had to be a fault with the number. Canterlot wasn't nearly crowded enough to suggest that such a number of ponies existed.
“No, ponies are spread all throughout Equestria and the world.” Twilight answered, “If we all stayed in a city like Canterlot it would be much too crowded. Not to mention the problems that would arise with having so many ponies live in one space. Just the cultivation and distribution of food alone would be-”
Twilight's explanation was cut short by a shout from across the table, “I have a question for Zachery.” The Mulberry Mare yelled, waving her hooves to bring attention back to herself, “How many humans are there?”
Zachery paused. The number differences between ponies and humans taking a very volatile backseat to the newest question directed at him. Thinking about the ins and outs of history manually wasn’t his forte. With the spell running it’s course he had to fall back on his own knowledge. So what would the average normal traveler know about the population density of the Great Mixing? With the utmost sincerity he said, “I don’t know.”
“Why not?” The Mulberry Mare pushed.
“It doesn't make sense to count.” He said, which led to a painfully awkward silence as ponies gawked at each other and mumbled under their breaths thinking he could not hear them.
They thought he was a fool, huh?
“How can counting your population not make sense?” The Mulberry Mare shouted, "Do you not want to know how many humans there are?"
Candace, who was the only one who made a point to leaf through the books on the table, spoke, “Your people are nomadic, right? If you’re always moving and your groups are always changing taking a census would be pointless. The end number would be drastically different every time you counted.”
“Nomadic.” He stretched the word as if fumbling over the meaning, “That means always moving, right?” He glanced at Twilight for confirmation and with her too quick, not natural nod backing him he smiled at the ponies, “Yes, I am nomadic. The number of people who I walk with are always changing. Though what does that other word mean? What is cen-sus?” He winched with Cadence and more than a few other ponies at his pronunciation. There was no translation for that word direct or otherwise, and it showed. The spell skipped the word completely leaving him with bare repetition.
The snarling dictation of Common Tongue did not play well with the softer phonetics of Equestrian.
A table full of ponies with their ears laid back stared wide eyed at him shocked at the sounds he made. “Um, sorry?” Their feelings toward him did matter, and one knight really looked traumatized. “That didn’t come out right at all? Maybe we should try talking about something else?”
Their feelings toward him did matter, though it felt good seeing their expressions change. Most of the ponies’ stark defiance began to waver, and hooves tentatively rose in the air lacking the vigor of before.
He gestured to a different reporter who had their hoof up. A reporter who seemed to regret putting her hoof up in the first place as she was singled out, “Can I ask about your nomadic nature. Why do you always move? Wouldn’t staying in one place be better?”
He allowed his face to scrunch at her question as he answered, “Depending on the season staying in one place can be dangerous.”
“Season?”
“It’s the reason we had to bring Zachery with us.” Twilight asserted, and… yes now her body was ramrod straight as she did not look in his direction, “The seasons bring dangerous creatures with them. He was too injured to safely make his seasonal journey or migration if you will.”
“How do your season's work.” Dried Ink questioned, “Is it like our spring, summer, fall, and winter?”
“That didn’t translate.” Zachery said, focusing on the phonetics of Equestrian as to not make a repeat of his earlier mistake, “Those words sp-ring, sum-mer, f-all, win-ter those are your season’s names right? There are only four of them?”
“You don’t have four seasons?” Candace asked, her ears raising again now it was clear that he wasn’t going to further butcher Equestrian, “How many do you have?”
He made a show of thinking about her question. Hand tapping at his face, and gazing off into the distance, “That depends. It can be anywhere from seven-”
“That is strange, but nothing we haven’t heard before.” Cadence spoke, “Why the Minotaurs-”
“-to thirty-two.” Zachery finished, “Give or take a couple depending where you start from or whether you count your time by the sun, or the moon, or the waves, or by the floods, or by the heaviest rainfall…” He let himself trail off. “It really does depend.”
Oh how he loved the looks on their faces. Most of their faces. It was strange how ponies couldn’t feel the ill intent just sitting beside them. With each pony that began to doubt the glares from the traitorous ponies flashed for a little longer, before becoming neutral.
“Thirty-Two?” Twilight’s not quite shriek demanded his attention, “You have thirty-two seasons?”
He frowned, “You know about ground-worm season.”
“I didn’t know that there was thirty-one other seasons!” Twilight said, her hoof gestures getting a little wild. “Why would you possibly need so many seasons?”
“Each season has its own dangers, and sometimes those dangers overlap.” Zachery explained a bit of delight swelling in his chest at the pure confusion on the ponies faces, “Depending where you live those overlapped dangers overlap with others, or don’t.” He paused, “If that makes sense.”
“So ground-worm season means something different depending where you are?” Candace asked tentatively.
“Right!” He answered, delight slightly colouring his voice as cruel amusement coloured his thoughts, “In some places, ground-worm season is a planting season because of how the worms help the ground. Where Twilight found me, ground-worm season is a death season because at that point in their cycle they feed and lay their eggs.” Seeing their confusion he elaborated, “Ground-worm’s search for warm places with lots of food to feed their young. Living bodies fulfil their needs.” Zachery forged on, ignoring how horrified the ponies appeared, “They’re good at making pit traps,” and smile, “so it’s dangerous to stay in that place. It’s dangerous to stay in any place, really.”
“W-what about that place. The place where they fertilized the crops.” Another knight asked, a weak smile gracing her lips at her solution. “Wouldn’t that be a good place to live?”
“Not with the storms and floods.” He stated quickly shutting down her idea, “If those seasons didn’t overlap the way they did it would be a nice place, but it floods then storms. During that season that place glows day and night as lightning burns everything to ash.” And he smiled, "Afterwards though, the ground is fresh, alive, fertile, and is good for planting.”
The next pony that spoke didn't bother raising his hoof, “Maybe you could live there every season of the year but that particular season?”
“Year?” He asked although the word did translate. He knew what and how long a human year was. A pony year on the other hand...
“We count years from a full cycle of our seasons.” Twilight explained helpfully, though she did stare at him a little too long. Which wasn’t helpful since it wasn’t natural, something that the Demon King’s spies must have already noticed. “Starting at the coldest season and ending when that season comes again.” Twilight finished.
“Oh,” He smiled thankfully at her. The spies did notice. Their expressions were reserved, but he could see that while the others stared at him their attention was solely on Twilight. He carried on, “but at that place there are twelve flood-storm seasons between the two coldest seasons. You wouldn’t live there long. Flood-storm can last for eight days and you only have a day's warning before it starts.” He paused, “Then you got to worry about the swarms of cricket/locust/leeches afterwards. They always travel in swarms,” He let a grimace pass on his face. “Only swarms.”
“Oh sweet Celestia.” He didn’t see who exactly said it, but that echo of fear told him all he needed to know to switch his act.
Surrounded by the dismay of the ponies at the table he shrank just enough, “What?”
“Is-is that all humans do?” Dried Ink asked, thankfully seeing only him and his expressions, not Twilight’s unease, “Just travel constantly? What do you do when you get old? What do you do if you get tired, or injured?”
“We don’t travel alone.” He said eyes flickering away to mimic sheepishness, “Most of the time. If you get old, tired, or injured there is usually someone that can help you.”
Cadence took the bait. He could see her fitting pieces together and ever so slightly her hoof brushed against one of the books laid out on the table, “Why was there no one to help you?”
His laugh was awkward and loud. Keeping what focus he had on him and away from Twilight whose head had dipped, “I stayed back.” He answered.
“Why?” Cadence urged, and until that point she was good at ignoring it but now her eyes laid on the bandages around his neck.
Deliberately his smile twitched, and enthralled the ponies leaned in, “Near the beginning of ground-worm season in the area where Twilight found me there are certain plants that are good for healing. It’s dangerous to wait that long but you can trade them for almost anything. Not that I found any of those herbs. I should have left weeks before, but I didn’t want to leave with nothing. I was a stubborn fool.”
His directive. That was what it made him think, wasn’t it? He was going to try and make up for losses by trading chicken-snake, basilisk, skins. That was so long ago…
“But I’m still alive.” He continued cheerfully, “And I can learn from my mistakes. No more traveling alone.” His resolve came off optimistic and bright.
The resulting camera flashes felt slow, lackluster, and he knew that he won this small battle, because with the information provided you would have to be an absolute idiot not to realize-
“Humans can never travel to Equestria by themselves.” Dried Ink voiced, his eyes impossibly wide, “If not following your migration patterns will kill you..." Dried Ink gaped at him, "How can you plan anything? How do you plan anything?”
A smile that showed barely any teeth, “Very carefully, with your ‘traveling group’?” A frown crossed his face. That didn’t sound right. He shook his head, “Plans don’t go past the next season, things change too much to plan that far ahead anyways. It’s good like that. Everyone knows where the meeting points are, so even if you travel a distance alone you're never truly lost.”
Dried Ink's next words were worried as he wondered whether he should ask his question at all, “Do you miss your traveling group? I’m sorry if that is too personal, but it sounds like you have a lot of trust for those humans.”
Some strain entered his voice disturbing the words in his reply, “Yes, I do miss them. My family is in that group.” He said hoping that his shift in tone would take their eyes off Twilight who was showing too much emotion. “They probably think I've died,” The hitch in his throat was unplanned, “because I missed the cut. By now they would have already left.”
“Your family?” Big Macintosh asked, and there was something to his voice that gave Zachery pause. An angry something.
“Just me, my mom, and my little sister.” He recounted, and if Twilight would please stop fidgeting and bringing attention to herself that would be great.
When Big Macintosh finally spoke again he did it with bite, “I don’t like how you lied to us Twilight, but I know that there human is not what my sister said would attack us. I got the whole of Equestria up in arms to fight what is basically some traveling sales pony.”
“Sir Macintosh-”
Big Mac ignored his knight and showed no discretion as he sharply contemplated Zachery’s arguably lithe body, “Can you fight? Have you ever fought any of your own species? Are you able to be a threat?”
“Right now I’m doing more limping than fighting.” He answered smoothly though the questions for all their meaning appeared rhetorical, “To tell you the truth I’m more prepared to fight against the wildlife that might show up on my home lands than anyone in particular.”
Big Macintosh looked away from him and clenched his jaw. Anger rolled from the self-appointed head knight. Anger that wasn't directed at any creature in the room, “I heard enough. Thank you for having us Princess Twilight, but I think that will be all. We’ll be going, right after I talk to my sister.”
The knights beside Big Mac bristled, one of them put off enough to speak against him, “But Sir Macintosh, the human-”
“Is about as dangerous as anypony here, maybe as dangerous as a griffin what with his teeth. Is that any reason to kick up this big of a stink?” Big Mac spat, “Zachery was it? Have you ever seen a pony before my sister and the elements found you?”
“Honestly, no.” He said watching carefully as Big Mac’s shoulders shook. The table should offer some protection if the head knight blew up, right? Though the cracks from his last outburst did not bode well.
“Does all this mean that Celestia is sick?” Big Mac muttered. His hooves dug into the table as he traced back to the pony that started his Equestria wide goose chase, “Why did Applejack tell us that we could see her?”
Hesitating, Twilight answered, “We did not want to panic the ponies with Celestia’s condition. The truth is that we are positive that if a normal pony came in contact with her, they will die.” Twilight pressed on past the fear on the faces around her, “For a few moments, Celestia broke out of her delirium, and in those moments she requested that we keep her ponies safe. Even if it was from herself.” Twilight’s voice cracked. Celestia did say that, then her eyes glazed over and she laughed, and laughed, and laughed. “Applejack made these plans on her own volition before we could tell her about Celestia’s state. She thought bringing you here would bring her back in our favour.” Twilight’s voice became soft, almost a whisper, “Cancelling would cause ponies to riot; further going against Celestia’s wishes. We did not want to do that.”
“Twilight." Big Mac's voice came out strange. Strange enough that Zachery braced to fight or escape the Militia leader's oncoming blind wrath. Along with the other ponies at the table. "Is there any credible reason why I left my farm and these ponies left their homes? Is there any reason to justify why I wasted the Apple’s savings hiring help to tend to my family's farm?” Big Mac's inquiry was more of a plea than anything else.
“No,” Twilight imparted her ears falling low, “there isn’t.”
Big Mac breathed in, exhaled out, and spoke, “Okay.” With that, the head knight got out of his chair and left the conference room. His two knights running to keep up with his fast pace.
“Does this mean that the meeting is over?” Zachery asked in the following silence. When no one answered him he gestured at Twilight.
Twilight, who stared frozen at the door Big Mac left from, “He’s really mad." She whispered, "I’ve never seen him that mad before.”
He pushed a little harder. He didn’t want to sit in this tongue tied room for another hour, and there were still things that needed to be done. Cadence’s gawk confirmed that. “Twilight.” And there was the look he was dreading. The look of disbelief that reminded him that he showed her too much, “Twilight, the meeting.”
“Right.” Twilight answered, the directionless of the militia gave her the opportunity to reinstate her order. “If anypony doesn’t have anything else to say-”
“I took time off of college to join this!”
“Then I will call this meeting to a close.” Twilight continued glossing past the outburst, “You can help yourselves to the refreshments as you leave.”
“C-Can I take some more pictures of Zachery.” Dried Ink stammered out, his camera shaking in his hooves. Stressful did not begin to describe the evening awaiting him and the other reporters. “This might be easier for the ponies to swallow if it’s documented well enough.”
“I closed down my shop!”
“Zachery?” Twilight asked him over the growing moans as ponies realized that they wasted months that they will never get back.
He on the other hand glanced at the ponies who opted to leave the conference room. The walking corpse, the glaring mare with the curly mane, and a few others that ducked their heads as they ran out the door. The Mulberry Mare stayed on her chair the water shining over her eyes suggesting how close she was to crying. In that moment he wondered what the Mulberry Mare gave up to join the militia, why she had been so passionate.
“Sure! I’ll take more pictures.” He answered with a blinding smile showing off his pearly whites as he let the camera flashes consume him. Almost as an afterthought he waved to the shiny lenses and the millions that would see him either later tonight or early tomorrow.
In the end, the militia’s personal lives and what they lost did not matter. What mattered is that he got what he came for.
His smile grew.