//------------------------------// // Day 38: Akhal-Teke // Story: Around the World in 81 Days (And Other Problems Caused by Leap Years) // by GaPJaxie //------------------------------// So many of Twilight’s old books were prone to exaggeration and flights of metaphor, that it hadn’t even occurred to Spike to ask whether or not the illustrations within were accurate. He’d just assumed the artist and the illustrator had been part of their own little conspiracy to show their home in its best possible light. And yet, there it was before his eyes. He was in Akhal-Teke, Capital of Saddle Arabia, and the buildings were sided with gold. Jewels marked the corners. The streets were paved with quartz. And true to the illustration, it really did glow in the setting sun. They were rounding up all the Artificers and putting them into box cars. Spike watched from a safe distance, concealed within the crowd that had gathered near the railway depot. Peering around somepony’s leg, he could see ponies in the golden armor of the Saddle Arabian royal guard moving in small and quick groups across the platform. The details of the search were not visible through the crowd, but the door to the guild hall had been smashed clear off its hinges, and more guards could be seen moving inside. Most of the Artificers had already been captured and herded into the cars, but a few were still awaiting processing. They were in chains, lined up at the edge of the train yard. Spike could see two Equestrian ponies, a llama, a changeling, a crystal pony, two Orlovians, a Kirin pegasus, four Saddle Arabians, and two zebra. Most of them looked dazed and confused. The zebra were both stone-faced. The Saddle Arabians seemed pale, and the one at the end of the row was crying and couldn't stop. Spike stepped out of the crowd, and walked through the line of guards holding them back. Like all Saddle Arabians, the guards were built on the scale of Princess Celestia, and with years of experience of the Sun Princess's pet peeves, Spike simply walked through their blind spot and then between their front and rear legs, darting beneath them undetected. It wasn’t until he was a good ten paces behind the crowd-control line that one of them noticed him, shouting for him to halt. “My name is Spike,” he said, holding up the ornamental ring he’d stolen from Twilight’s dress like it was the royal seal itself. “I’m Number One Assistant to Her Royal Highness, The Princess Twilight Sparkle of Equestria. And—” he added firmly, glowering at a guard who’d taken a step too close, “—I have diplomatic immunity.” The Saddle Arabian guards started down at this little creature that barely reached above their knees, until Spike let out a loud sigh, and added: “That means you need to take me to whatever officer is in charge of this mess. Now.” The guards were not quite sure they agreed. But nor were any of them quite willing to forcefully eject him when he refused to move. And so they stood there and argued with each other, until one eventually left to fetch their immediate superior, who fetched his superior in turn, and his in turn. And then a pony came to Spike who didn’t have to fetch anypony at all. Spike took a breath as she approached, forcefully straightening his shoulders and holding his hands behind his back in a rigid pose. By Equestrian standards, she was a giant, perhaps half a head higher than Celestia, but with a more thin and angular frame. Her eyes were sharp, her armor steel instead of gold, her hooves capped with solid and well worn shoes. Like all Saddle Arabians, she had no natural cutie mark, and so had been forced to craft her own, adorning herself with a saddle cloth that bore the symbol she’d chosen for herself: a genie lamp and a shield. “Inspector Pasha,” she introduced herself, extending a hoof. Her tone was curt, but she bent her knees low enough to look him in the eye, and bowed her head to him without hesitation. Spike bowed just as low to her as he took her hoof in his claw, and the two shook briefly. “Spike the Dragon,” he replied. “Number One Assistant to Her Royal Highness, The Princess Twilight Sparkle of Equestria. If you haven’t heard.” “I heard,” Pasha said, her words still clipped. She turned away from him a moment, gazing at the imperial palace in the distance, its minarets and crystal towers barely visible on the far side of the city. Her tone softened as she continued: “May I ask how you got here so quickly? We only started in the last hour, and I’m sure you didn’t run across the city that fast.” “Ah…” Spike glanced at his little travel bag, slung over his shoulder. “You know us Equestrians. We turn up all sorts of places we’re not expected.” “Hmmph. So you do.” Inspector Pasha nudged her head at the platform. “May I assume Princess Twilight sent you to see about the Equestrians here?” “Ah…” Spike cleared his throat. “Her Highness is concerned about all her subjects. I expect none of them have come to harm?” “No.” The inspector gave a small shake of her head. “Would you like to see them?” “Yes, thank you.” Spike fell in alongside her, the two walking half a pace apart and Spike one pace ahead, so that Spike would not rest in her blind spot, and Pasha would not have to crane her neck down to see around her ankles. “Can you tell me a little more about what’s going on? I didn’t exactly have time to get the full story on my way over.” “His Highness, the Beneficent Sultan, has declared the International Guild of Artificers to be an illegal organization,” Inspector Pasha said, gesturing up at the work in progress ahead of them. Her pace was slow, particularly for the length of her legs, giving them time to speak as they approached. “All Saddle Arabian members of the Guild operating in foreign nations have been ordered to return home immediately, and all Guild houses in Saddle Arabia are, as of today, being closed.” Spike nodded as they walked, keeping a steady pace and tone. “And what’s to become of the Artificers from the closed houses?” Pasha shrugged. “The Saddle Arabian artificers are free to go. His Highness is constituting a Saddle Arabian College of Engineering so their talents can continue to be put to good use. The rest will be detained indefinitely. They know too much to be allowed to return home and act as spies.” “Not that that’s a concern for the Equestrians,” Spike said firmly, “since Saddle Arabia and Equestria are such good friends. Such good friends, in fact, that Princess Twilight will undoubtedly be happy to save you the expense of sending them home by taking them into her entourage now.” Inspector Pasha’s brow furrowed as she and Spike mounted the rail platform, and she didn’t answer right away. The platform was as vast and elegant as the Saddle Arabians themselves, built on a commanding scale. White arches two stories tall provided access to a space that seemed more like a palace than a loading dock, its clocks gilded in brass, its marble floors unscuffed. Above them was a high arched ceiling painted like the night sky, and above that were towers so tall they mocked the concept of gravity. The walls were covered in artwork, the train schedules rewrote themselves by magic, and above them flew Saddle Arabian pegasi with wingspans so vast each beat created its own wind. Spike glanced over it all, but walked in silence, his expression a neutral mask. Finally, Pasha said: “I’m not authorized to let them go. But I’m also not authorized to violate your diplomatic immunity. So I suppose if you take them I can’t stop you—but I don’t think it’s a good idea.” “I’ll take that into consideration,” Spike grumbled. As they drew near the line of prisoners, he added. “Wait here, please. I’d like to talk to them without being overheard.” He walked ten more steps forward, acting for all the world like he expected to be obeyed. It was only once he was well ahead that he peeked back over his shoulder to see if Pasha was still following him. She was looking away, talking with one of her guards. She didn’t see him shudder, or the sudden quickness in his step as he darted the last few steps to the prisoner line. All of the prisoners, he realized, were wearing steel pendants just like the one in his bag. “Hey,” he said to the first one he passed. The llama. “I’m Spike. I’m from Equestria. I’m going to try to help you, okay?” He repeated the same phrase for the changeling, the crystal pony, and the others, occasionally adding, “Princess Twilight is here,” or similar phrases. Most leaned towards him with hopeful eyes, except for the Saddle Arabian at the end. She was still crying, her voice already hoarse. Then he came to the two Equestrians. One was a blue pegasus stallion with a cog and a lightning bolt on his flank; the other, a yellow unicorn mare with a pile of bits, a bolt of cloth, and a spinning wheel. The mare’s posture was hunched, her gaze furtive and frightened. The stallion, by contrast, sat up straight in his chains, his manner dark and angry. “Hey,” Spike called to them both. “I’m Spike. I’m from Equestria. I’m going to try to help you, okay? What are your names?” “I’m Cobalt Blue,” said the stallion, his voice tight. The mare introduced herself as Power Loom. “What are you doing here? Did Princess Twilight send you?” “Uh… more or less.” Spike spoke quickly. “Listen. You two are going to join Princess Twilight Sparkle’s diplomatic expedition. That means you’re Equestrian diplomats, so you can’t be arrested. Then she’ll take you straight home.” Cobalt licked his lips, and looked quickly up and down the line. “No,” he said, immediately adding. “No. No. Don’t take us. We’re in the least danger. Everypony loves Equestrians and Celestia will probably demand us back anyway. Take Ola, Fofo, Jinn, and Teague.” He indicated the four Saddle Arabian ponies at the end. “You’re their only way out.” “They’ll be fine,” Spike waved the comment away. “All the Saddle Arabian artificers are going to be let go.” “They’re not Saddle Arabian,” Power Loom said, lowering her voice. “They’re Karabakh.” Spike turned his head to look at the four at the end of the row. They were giant like Saddle Arabians, thin and angular like them, and tanned like them beneath thin coats. They wore elaborate saddle straps, halters, and wraps. They had no natural cutie marks, and so had sewn symbols into their saddle cloths, the identities they’d chosen for themselves. Spike saw a bundle of wire, a clockwork bird, a rising star, and a circle of five little hearts. “Is ‘Karabakh’ a race, a nation, or a culture?” he asked. “It’s a race and a culture,” Cobalt said. “Some ponies think it should be a nation.” “Right.” Spike’s hand went to his forehead, and for a long time he considered. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can take them. You’re Equestrian, sure, but drafting foreign citizens into a ‘diplomatic mission’ is kind of pushing it.” “You have to,” Cobalt insisted, his voice turning sharp and harsh. “Spike, the Karabakh and the Saddle Arabians have hated each other for centuries. If they go to prison, they’re never getting out. You understand? They’ll be taken away and nopony will ever see them again. They’ll be—” “Yeah.” Spike said, his face blank and his tone dull. “I know. I can’t help them.” “You have to!” Cobalt’s voice raised, his eyes narrowing at Spike. “For Celestia’s sake, at least try! Teague isn’t even supposed to be here. He’s on temporary assignment! He has two daughters in Tawantinsuyu and they’re never going to see-” “I said I can’t help him!” Spike snarled, the words coming in a flash of hot anger. Fire and smoke blew from his nose and jaws, and the two Equestrian ponies scrambled backwards from the flames. Spike froze, rooted to the spot, his breaths coming deep and full of smog. He took him a moment to slow his heart, and to blow the last of the smoke away. “I’m sorry,” he said, softer. “Twilight might be able to do something. I’ll talk with her about helping everypony else. I promise, she’ll do everything she can. But right now I can only help you two.” Power Loom’s face scrunched up, and her eyes started to water. Cobalt looked up and down the line. He spoke first. “If that’s the case,” he said, “then I think I’ll take my chances here with my friends.” “Wrong,” Spike said, blunt. “I’m taking you back to Equestria if I have to ship you there in a crate.” He turned to walk back to Pasha, and as he did, Power Loom called out: “Wait! At least take Cilia. He’s a changeling but he’s been in Equestria a long time so he should count as a citizen.” Spike grunted, and stopped a moment to look back over the rest of the line: at Cilia, and the other creatures there. Inspector Pasha was waiting for him when she was done, and she again nodded her head to Spike when he approached. “I’ll be taking the two Equestrians with me,” he said, “and the crystal pony.” “The crystal pony isn’t from Equestria,” Inspector Pasha replied firmly, “he’s from the Water Palace.” “All crystal ponies are, by virtue of being crystal ponies, the rightful subjects of Princess Cadence, who is vassal to Princess Celestia. Ergo, all crystal ponies are Equestrians.” Spike said, another curl of smoke escaping him as he added: “And I’m taking him.” Inspector Pasha paused, twitched an ear, and after a moment, nodded. “As you wish,” she said plainly. “But I still don’t think this is a good idea.” “I don’t really care what you think.” Spike’s words came out hot and toxic. “Get those chains off them now.” Inspector Pasha gave the command, and the three ponies were released. The crystal pony, whose name was Quartz Strike, had to be dragged away from the others, screaming obscenities at the guards who held him down. Power Loom came quietly, waiting by the platform’s edge. Cobalt pushed past towards the guild house, saying he was going to collect his personal things and would be back in a moment. Pasha sent two guards with him, and then sat down next to Spike to wait. They had been waiting for perhaps a full minute when she said: “I’m sorry, but can I ask why you’re doing this?” Spike looked her way, and she continued: “Growing up, I’ve always thought of Equestrians as… well, the good guys. Your kingdom literally runs on friendship and love.” Spike’s lip curled back, and his expression turned incredulous. “Why does that make it weird I’d want to help Equestrians in need?” “It doesn’t,” Pasha said quietly, pausing and furrowing her brow as she considered her next words. “But, I do have good hearing you know. And in any case, it’s quite obvious you’d let them all go if you could.” She hesitated a moment, but then picked up her tone and pressed on. “I just don’t understand why, when the world is being split down the middle between good and evil, the country that has righted so many wrongs is afraid to pick sides.” Spike let out a sharp breath, though this time without smoke. “That’s not what’s happening.” “Isn’t it?” she asked, her tone just a little pointed. “Because, the newspapers are saying that those two Orlovian freighters we captured were full of explosives, crossbows, poison, and Orlovian officers going to train the Black Hooves to fight.” “You shouldn’t trust the papers,” Spike said, but his quick tone noticeably slowed, and his spines curled back a few degrees. “So it isn’t true, then?” Spike drew his mouth into a line. “There may be some evidence that some members of the Orlovian government provided some military assistance to the Black Hooves. But we don’t have all the facts yet. And even if the papers are true, there’s no proof the Emperor or Princess Silver Dove knew about it.” “So you’re going to just assume the best and forget the whole thing?” Inspector Pasha demanded, her tone growing curt. “You know they’re necromancers?” “I know.” His bland tone only seemed to set her off, and her eyes and voice both got sharper. “You know that when they tell stories about their history and how ‘some had to die that others might live,’ they’re talking about cannibalism?” “Yeah, I know. The Orlovian exile wasn’t a great time.” “They tried to kill your princess!” Her voice rose, her ears folding back sharply. “Don’t you care?” “Of course I care!” Spike snapped, but he drew a deep breath immediately after, and lowered his tone. “But I’m trying to do what Twilight wants. And Twilight wants peace.” He took a tight breath, and then quickly added: “Besides, we don’t have all the facts yet. It’s possible it was just a few officers acting without anypony’s permission.” “That is possible.” Inspector Pasha said, with a slow nod of her head. “But if it turns out that we aren’t so lucky, will Princess Twilight change her mind? Take sides?” “She…” Spike flexed his claws, before forcing them down to his side. “Twilight wants peace.” “‘Peace no matter what' rewards the aggressor.” Inspector Pasha said, shaking her head and turning away from Spike. “A real leader stands up in the face of evil.” “War is an ugly business, Pasha.” Spike said, looking down at the floor. “Twilight knows that. Celestia knows that. What if you don’t win? Your empire could be destroyed.” “Our empire is being destroyed. Bit by bit.” She let out a contemptuous snort. “When they poisoned our relationship with the Zebra and turned what used to be one of the great mystic nations of the world into a military puppet state. When they corrupted the Water Palace and filled their heads with dreams of an empire carved out of Kiria. When they promised the Tawantinsuyu that their blood magic could make a king an alicorn. Inch by inch. And they won’t stop until the entire world has fallen under darkness.” Spike swallowed, rubbing at his temples. “Even if that’s true, all that’s cost you is pride and influence. If you go to war, ponies will die.” Inspector Pasha didn’t answer right away, staring off into the distance. Around them, the wide arches let in the sunlight, and it sparkled on the stone tiles. The mortar between the marble blocks was gold as well, worn by centuries of hooves until it was totally flush with the stone beneath it. Even the stone itself was smoothed out, just like Pasha’s horse shoes. A strong wind blew in from outside, carrying with it the smell of the desert, and old cloth and foreign spices. “Once,” Pasha said, “seven thousand years ago, Celestia came to Saddle Arabia. She was young, then. Nopony knows exactly how young. But she asked to stay in the palace, and Al-Haifa, who was king of all Saddle Arabians, allowed her to stay with his children. He forbade anypony to remark upon her alicorn nature, and she learned, and studied, and ate and played with the other children for many years. Eventually, it came that the other children grew old, and left, and Celestia, who had not aged a day, asked to leave as well. She was named a Princess of Saddle Arabia, and the king forged for her the crown that she wears to this day. And she left, to travel the world.” Still looking at the floor, unaware that Spike had turned to stare at her, Pasha went on. “Some time later, a wicked djinni heard of a new alicorn, and stared upon Celestia with envious eyes. Bitter, but too cowardly to confront her directly, he instead cursed King Al-Haifa, that his pride in Princess Celestia should turn to poison in his veins. Yet though the king grew sick, he commanded that nothing should be changed, and went about his business as best he could. Incensed, the spirit appeared before him, and showed him visions of the future. He saw that, should he perish, his sons and daughters would war for his throne. The kingdom would fracture, and his golden age would come to an end. To avert this fate, the djinni commanded him to renounce Celestia or die.” Pasha’s tail flicked, and her voice grew tight, and she turned to Spike and matched his eyes as she went on: "King Al-Haifa answered, ‘All mortals must die, and all empires must fall, but Celestia is eternal. I cannot replace the father she has lost, but I love her as a stallion loves his daughters. How then, could I curse her for eternity, to live with the knowledge that her father died a coward?’ And he did die, and his empire did fall. And today, every Saddle Arabian knows his name. He is one of the great fathers of our people. Nopony remembers the spirit’s name.” Her tail lashed, and there was a tightness in her throat as she went on: “So, I suppose you might be right, that the age of heroes is coming to an end, and the future is just necromancers and steam power and the sort of political cynicism and calculation that makes no comment a valid response. But we are what we are. And we’re not going to abandon our Aero-Lipizzian friends in their hour of need. And if the necromancers want our empire they can come and take it.” Spike swallowed, once. He struggled for words. “I’m sorry.” “You should be.” Spike nodded, and another long silence came between them. He stared at the guild building, but there was still no sign of Cobalt. “So why all this then?” he asked, gesturing around them. “The Orlovians I get, but what do you have against the Artificers?” “The Guild is loyal to no nation, and Artificers are loyal only to each other. They’d feel no shame for betraying us.” “Yeah, but...” Spike shook his head. “Aren’t you about to get the same result anyway? The Guild has powerful friends, and they will never forgive you for this. Why pick a fight with them?” Pasha hesitated a moment, licked her lips, and let out a short little breath. “Saddle Arabians have been fighting dark magic for longer than Equestria has existed.” She paused. “It always starts good: power, wealth, revenge. Whatever you want, it’s yours. Your problems, solved. But then you realize that you can’t put it down. That you need it now. Need the railway, need the coal, need the smoke. You need it to solve the problems it's created for you. Until you can’t stop it, and you become its slave.” Spike paused. His spines folded back. “Yeah, I… uh.” He swallowed. “A friend of mine. Rarity. Messed with dark magic once. It…” He needed a moment to regain his composure. “Do you really think that—” A loud crash carried from across the way, and metal cracked on metal. Spike threw himself to the ground, some unknown reflex slamming him flat against the marble. He looked up in time to see Cobalt emerge from the guild building, a steam-powered crossbow braced against his shoulder. It was smaller than the one Spike had seen before, lighter and designed to be supported by a pegasus wing, but the distinctive shape was unmistakable. “Grab him!” Pasha shouted, leaping to her hooves. “Get down!” Spike screamed. “Everypony, run for it!” Cobalt shouted to to the prisoners. Then he held the trigger of the weapon down, and swept it across the room. When Spike finally lifted his head from the stone, sixteen of the royal guards were dead. Cobalt had unchained his friends and opened two of the rail cars, before himself being killed by an arrow. Roughly half of the escaping prisoners had successfully fled or hidden. The other half had been recaptured or killed in the melee. Pasha was lying next to Spike, right where she’d been, one of the steam weapon’s long metal bolts sticking clear through her torso from her chestplate to her spine. It had blown through her armor like it was tinfoil. Eventually, her body was dragged away, and another officer arrived to replace her. He did not entertain the notion of letting any of the prisoners go, Equestrian or otherwise, and after a while, Spike left. Then, he went to plan alternate transportation to their next stop, since it seemed increasingly likely that there would be significant delays.