4 - What's a diplomacy?
My hoof rested against the door as I tried to process what I’d just been told. I, a Courier on official business, had just been told I would be executed if I had damaged the door of the room I was making a delivery too. By knocking on it. At a normal and polite volume. With three soft raps of my hoof.
I took a deep breath, reminded myself that nothing could be worse than the Lords Mayoral on the weekends, and turned the door handle and stepped inside the Mayor’s office.
The pungent smell of mildew assaulted my nose the moment the door creaked open. The room before me looked more like a pre-war antique shop than an office space. I would know. Somehow, antique stores were some of the last to be looted.
There was wall to wall carpet, made from a dozen old carpets, most of which were stained with damp and perhaps just a little mold. The walls were covered with sections of wooden panels from at least a hundred different old cabinets, no two of which matched in either color or style. The room’s decor came together like a jigsaw puzzle an angry foal had finished by slamming the pieces into place with a sledgehammer.
And the furniture. Oh, Celestia! The furniture!
The rotting old junk crammed into terraced layers in this office could have furnished a whole wing of the Canterlot palace. His office was an abattoir of cracked timber, peeling paint, chipped varnish, and traces of gold leaf worn off by time and use. Bookshelves, dining chairs, coat racks, lamps, barstools, desks, a free standing kitchen sink…
Junk, honest to Celestia junk occupied every available space save a path from the door to the massive desk in the center of the room. Not around it to the seat. Just to the front of the desk. There wasn’t even a guest chair there.
The enormous desk was vaguely horseshoe shaped, with rusting steel skirting, and boasted a battered but polished walnut top. Of all surfaces in the room, the desk was the only thing without junk piled atop it. I could see that it had a pair of built in terminals which jutted up from the desk at a forty five degree angle. It reminded me of the Overmare’s desk in a stable, only without Stable-Tec’s logo on it.
Behind the desk was a massive leather recliner chair. If Life Beat sat in this chair she would look short. It might even look a little big for Celestia herself, had she ever sat in it before the war. As a direct consequence, the venerable mayor sitting in the brown crack-strewn Lay-z-Colt recliner looked like a withered old doll and not a living stallion.
Specifically, a tiny old-pony doll some filly had discarded because, by Celestia, just one look told you that this doll was going to wait until you’d gone to sleep, and then murder you with its own tiny doll hooves.
Open hostility oozed from every single pore in the dull mauve hide of Two Bits' mayor. He had a thinning mane of a color I could only describe as vomited gold, tortured into a style I’m certain he thought imposing and virile. It failed to be anything close.
As if to ensure he looked as terrible as possible with colors that would have passed as regal on anypony else, the mayor had found a pea green and beige plaid suit even smaller than his decrepit frame, and squeezed himself into it in all the wrong ways.
These features were all secondary to what drew most of my attention. His eyes. What stood out over every horrible bit of the rest of him and his vile office were his narrow, beady, hate filled, golden eyes. I’d seen eyes with hate like that before. I’d seen them on a Windigo.
I shook myself from the stupor his eyes plunged me into, gave the mayor a polite bow, and began my usual delivery speech. “Good afternoon, Lord Mayor. I am a cou—”
The Mayor’s eyes narrowed even further. I felt as if that should have closed them entirely, yet somehow it did not.
"Cut the act, stripes!” He snarled, spraying an astonishingly large amount of saliva across his decaying desk.
That explained some of the rust. Gross...
I took a step back as my eyes shot wide. “E— Excuse me?”
“You're from a shithole just like this one,” he growled. “I don't care if your leader calls herself a queen. I could call myself the President of Space and it wouldn’t make a lick of difference. She’s the bitch in charge of a junk pile barely clinging to life. Just like me.
“And you? You’re just a mouthpiece no one will remember a week after you die! Cut the shit, tell me what you're begging for, then get out of my office!"
My eyebrow arching and ear swivel reached maximum incredulity.
Celestia’s. Bucking. Mane!
What in the world had crawled up the ass and died in whatever crawled up his ass and died?!
I took a moment to compose myself, covering up the gap with a polite cough into my left hoof.
Life Beat, I’m so sorry you work with this—
The mayor jabbed his wrinkled mauve hoof at me from across his desk threateningly. “I SAID, SPIT IT OUT!”
I took a short breath, called on every year of my experience as Royal Courier, and decided to do my best to remain civil.
"Sir,” I began in my best calm professional voice while my left eye refused to stop twitching. “Our kingdom may be small, and we may have resource shortages in some areas, but her majesty is the rightful heir to—"
“To another smouldering pile of ash populated by rotting corpses pretending to be ponies!” The mayor growled. “You’re a mailmare, zebra! Unless you're here to deliver a speech drop the package on my desk and get the buck out of my bucking office, you tarted-up harlot!”
“Ah,” I said, nodding in depressed realization.
The way he’d said ‘zebra’ explained everything. He said it in the same way a pony might say ‘plague ridden radroaches’, ‘putrefied feral ghouls’, or ‘Flim-Flam Co Mac’n’Cheese’.
So, that was going to be an issue here in the Heartlands. Well, nothing to be done but to get this over with as fast as possible.
I cleared my throat and retrieved one of the letters from my saddlebag. I had a feeling I was about to waste a letter and a radio, but Her Majesty's orders were clear.
Every settlement.
Even the ones run by stallions whom I am certain both halves of Her Majesty would want to vaporize for different and equally valid reasons.
With my best fake smile on my face, I trotted up to the edge of the mayor’s desk.
"I am here to attempt to start diplomatic relations between your charming village and the Kingdom of Lith and her towns, plural,” I informed, getting right to the point as I trotted over and placed the letter on his desk, seal up. “This letter, bearing the royal seal, contains instructions on how to make contact with Her Majesty's court via radio so you—"
The Mayor took a deep breath so hostile, and yet so haggard by age, I thought he might manage to die from sheer rage. Then, he levered himself out of his seat, his bones creaking and groaning as loudly as the joints of his decomposed chair as he stood up and glared down into my very soul. "Stop wasting my time with your turd polishing, stripe! I don’t care about the lipstick you’re putting on for whatever the whore you work for calls herself! What do you want to get out of my town?"
I grit my teeth and did my best to fight off the growing urge to show this jerk exactly how easily an elderly pony’s skull can be shattered. I felt my robes twitch at my sides as my link module automatically aligned my LAERs with his hideous waistcoat.
It was one thing to insult me. It was one thing to insult me and my home kingdom. It was another thing entirely to insult the pony who had never seen me as anything other than a friend. If my saddle had been active when I walked into his office, I’d have just burned this racist old wine stain off of equinity’s hide.
I took a deep breath to keep myself from sending my saddle the firing command. I wasn’t able to tell if that was the right thing or not.
Dad’s angry voice drifted into my mind from the depths of my imagination. I wonder if the Heartlands allows duels over matters of honor?
Not wanting to waste any more of the gentelcolt’s time, I didn’t bother composing myself and continued in spite of the barely contained rage leaking through the twitch in my eye and strained smile.
“The it to be spat out here is simple, sir, is that my Queen is looking to forge trade deals. We have plenty of technology on offer, and can offer assistance with civil engineering projects."
The ancient pile of filth in the shape of a stallion sighed and shook his head slowly at me.
I frowned slightly, assuming he didn’t understand what I meant. I cleared my throat and gestured towards… Whatever was outside and to my left. "For example, I noticed your community’s industry is the bottling and selling of Aqua Cura. If you could supply us with food stuffs or textiles, we could manufacture float talismans for your wagons so—"
"Get out!" The Mayor snapped, his teeth bared as his yellowing hoof pointed, trembling, at the door.
"Excuse me?" I asked as my jaw dropped in shock.
The Mayor grit his teeth and slammed his hooves down on his desk, nearly climbing on top of it. "I don't take kindly to zebras promising the stars so they can get stuff out of me then skip out on their side of the deal! I want you gone by sun down, or I'll have you jailed for the night and shot at sunrise. Is that clear?"
The unrepentant hatred in his voice made it clear he wasn’t exaggerating. He would have me shot, and he fully believed the guards would obey the order.
The mask cracked and I smiled with all of my hate behind it. “Crystal clear, sir.”
The mayor spat on the unopened letter and threw it at me. “And take this with you!”
I snatched the letter from the floor, spun on my hooves, and marched out of the pony shaped puss pile’s office.
Holy. Bucking. Horseapples! I would rather get the gunk from a yeast infection in my eyes than talk to that so called ‘leader’ ever-a-bucking-gain! Nothing makes me happier than the simple fact I hadn’t even learned his acursed name!
In fact, how the hay had he even been elected?!
I was going to find out.
Tucking the letter back into my saddlebags, I turned around and stormed out of the hallway. I opened the hall door with my shoulder, using the solid titanium-cobalt joint to make the loudest possible angry bang as I slammed into the door.
Poor Life Beat eeped and jumped in fright as the door slammed into the wall. I saw a book fall as her concentration shattered and her telekinesis cut out. The book hit the desk, slightly denting the spine.
I squeaked in terror, expecting my mom to appear from the aether with a rage that eclipsed even the Windigos.
Her Majesty once told me she never believed anypony could ever be more upset over a damaged book than Twilight Sparkle. Now we both knew that Black Swan was far worse in that regard. This discovery was made when a young colt ripped up a copy of a technical manual for toilet tissue, and mom literally blew her aggression inhibitor when he returned it.
We actually heard it go pop. It took both of us to keep her off the poor stupid colt.
I ran to Life’s desk and scooped the book up in my hooves. “Nonononono, it’s okay, let me just take care of the—” I gently rubbed the leather with my hoof tip, making sure the spine wasn’t broken.
It wasn’t. The leather was old and worn, but the dent rubbed out with a few careful pokes and prods.
”— Oh thank Celestia!” I sighed in relief and carefully set the book down on the desk.
Life Beat stared down at me, her wings flared and eyes wide. “Uhhh… Not that I don’t appreciate it when people care for a book, but… Please get out of my personal space.”
I realized I was hunched over the mare’s forelegs and leaning on her right flank. In my terror, I hadn’t realized I’d draped myself over her to catch the book.
My cheeks flushed bright red as I pulled away from her and stood up before trotting a few paces away. “Uh… Sorry,” I said, my tail swishing awkwardly behind me.
“It’s okay. Everypony has their quirks,” Life giggled as she returned the book to a drawer in her desk.
I nodded. She sighed and looked me in the eye. “I… Suppose you want to know how Mister Persimmons is our Mayor when he’s, well, him.”
“Dark Magic?” I asked without any trace of irony.
Life paused and tapped a hoof to her chin then shrugged her wings.
I almost ran for the door, but her smirk told me she was joking at the last minute. “No… It’s well, you know how angry he made you feel?”
I gave her a grade-A deadpan stare. “What are you talking about? We’re going out to dinner later and—” I gagged at the thought of saying I’d let him rut me. “-- And, I can’t finish that sarcastic remark because, EW!”
Life shivered, clearly knowing what I had been about to say. “Eeeewww! Bad Zeeb! Don’t make poor alicorns picture rutting… That! Ew… To move the buck on from that abortion of a joke, he can make other ponies feel as angry at you as you were at him. We all know he’s scum, but the stallion can make anypony who runs against him a social pariah… And there’s a rumor that he has a bomb in a suit pocket that will go off when he dies, so nopony is very keen to try to… Well, hasten his retirement.”
That did sound like something the racist jerk would do.
I nodded slowly and turned to leave in defeat when a thought occurred to me. The mayor was very old. This was good. It meant he would drop dead soon. Maybe even right now!
My left ear swiveled, seeking the sound of an ancient heart failing.
Nothing. At least, not that I heard.
With a sigh I opened my bag again and removed the letter I had already taken out and a single radio from the hard case. I set them down on Life’s desk and cleared my throat. “Here… I have to deliver them to somepony, and as the tallest alicorn I’ve seen, you’re obviously better suited to be in charge than that guy.”
Life giggled and raised an eyebrow. “Tallest?”
I decided to not admit to having briefly thought alicorns arranged their social hierarchy based on their height.
Quickly clearing my throat and nodding towards the now delivered radio and letter, I said “Either keep them, or give them to anypony who uh, is likely to be in charge once His Horribleness finally drops dead.”
I turned around and began to walk towards the door. “And maybe write me to let me know I should celebrate,” I muttered under my breath. “Racist buck…”
My ears swiveled back around as Life cleared her throat. “I um, I listened in,” Life called after me. “He is… Intolerant of non-ponies, yes. But... Not all of that was because of your stripes.”
I paused mid step and turned my head, expecting an explanation.
Life Beat sighed and pointed to the south east. “Across the great river from us is a nation called the Herd. It’s mostly made up of alicorns, ghouls, and zebras. Ponies who, well, who normal ponies don’t exactly like very much,” she said in a way which very strongly hinted that there was some seriously bad blood involved here.
But more importantly, it told me that there was someone we could offer deals to to make this nation get huffy and offer us a better deal simply to spite the other guy. Ah, diplomacy.
Life stood up and walked over to me with a sad look on her face. “Getting ponies to trade with you will be hard. Especially if you’re not, well, mostly normal ponies.”
I sighed. “So, everypony here is big into hating on zebras, huh? It’s not our fault the war started!”
Life blinked then frowned. “Um, correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t the Zebrican Empire start the trade wars and then escalate them to actual war after some kind of misunderstanding?”
I nodded slowly. “Yes, the Empire did. A government. It’s not like literally every Zebra alive was called into one huge room to cast votes on if we would end the world as we knew it or not. In fact, no one alive today—” I caught myself in the middle of that phrase, remembering most if not all sane ghouls were, well, pre-war. “— uh, I mean very few ponies alive today had anything to do with it. Also, the only reason the empire attacked is the old Cesar died and his elected replacement was a member of a fringe religion who literally thought Princess Luna was a demon.”
Life tilted her head slightly. “Wh— Oh! Because of the nightmare thing? That’s… That’s so dumb! The elements purified—” Life closed her eyes tightly for a minute then let out a long sigh. “I’m not going to get worked up over a two hundred year old stupid mistake again! I am not going to get worked up over a two hundred year old stupid mistake again!”
I gave her several moments to compose herself. She groaned and shook her head one last time, then looked me in the eyes. “I didn’t mean to say that everypony here hates zebras or ghouls. I mean that our town joined the NCR because they were like more us than not, and they didn’t betray us, which the nation of abponies and zebras did.”
“How?” I frowned, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about ‘abponies’ either.
“Five years ago, the Herd sent a zebra to us to make a trade deal,” Life explained quickly. “They promised us a water talisman in exchange for some very expensive salvage and a copy of an old Zebrican alchemy book that was in the prison library. They took everything, and then never gave us the talisman.”
I blinked and looked up at Life with a confused flick of my ears. “You… You gave them the goods without getting the trade item at the same time?!”
“No,” Life shook her head. “They passed us a fake.”
My ears drooped. “Oh… I understand why there’s trust issues on talismans, then.”
I knew I had to turn this around, or even this nice mare wouldn’t be interested in trying to deal with a nation they hadn't even known existed before today.
"I wasn't lying, or promising the stars,” I said with as serious and honest an expression as I could muster. “There is a lot we could do for you."
Life nodded then smiled kindly. "If Lith is so rich you can build infrastructure, why are you looking to trade?"
Ah, there it was. The direct question that would give them some leverage against us. But, in this case, we needed to feed them a little leverage or they’d never trust us. Or feed us, at that.
"We're technologically rich, but that’s about it. We're always running low on food, so we’re also low on people. Naturally, this means while we can make a lot of pre-war goods, we don’t make everything we could, or even enough for everyone. We can’t field the horsepower to do that. Her Majesty asked me to try and find places which can trade for food or other plant based products by giving them infrastructure or manufactured goods."
Life Beat hummed curiously. The look on her face suggested she was seriously considering what could be done. If she overheard our conversation, then at least she knew we could provide hovering wagons.
She would probably be terrified if she knew our airships and hovercraft were made using changeling magic and technology rather than cloud based pony designs, but we’d take this one step at a time.
“How come you have a food shortage?” Life asked, pursing her lips. “With how common they were before the war, there’s no way you don’t know how to make hydroponic gardens. You know, like what they have in stables. If they can grow plants with one underground, they can do the same indoors in a cold climate, right?"
I sighed and shook my head. “No. We can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Well…” I sat down to get comfortable. This could be a long conversation. “Hydroponics requires specific nutrients to let the plants grow, some of them are derived from other plant products. If we had a fully working Hydroponics Garden we could keep it going indefinitely because they are self sustaining. But we don’t have one, and we don’t have the biological materials to start one.”
I paused for a moment realizing I was mistaken. We did in fact have one. In Stable Town. But I wouldn’t mention it for the sake of diplomatic simplicity. Especially since they had chosen to remain almost entirely self sustaining, and thus didn’t import or export food.
“See, while the Empire wasn’t bombed as thoroughly as Equestria was, they did hit Elmane Air Force Base with a larger balefire bomb. The Crystal City itself was hit with at least three megaspells, because the Zebras knew we made high magic weapons for Equestria there... And a dozen or so were peppered across the northlands at random just to… Saturate it.”
I shivered, trying to think of the cold heart of the zebra who ordered that part of the bombardment. ‘There aren’t any real targets up there, but let’s make sure we murder the maximum possible number of those Equestrian bastards!’
I cleared my throat to continue. “Fortunately, they didn’t know about many of the small towns Princess Cadence had founded while trying to grow her Crown Colony into something worthy of having Empire in its name again.
“Guess where almost all of the advanced technology in the Empire was.”
Life winced and nodded. “I see… I take it the land is poisonous to plants up there like it used to be here?”
I sighed. “Yep. Magical radiation soaked right into the permafrost. We’ve also got an arcane winter that by now we’re pretty sure is permanent. Radioactive snow is everywhere! Clean ice and snow is so rare there’s a piece of untainted glacial ice being used as part of our Royal Treasures… And dirt. Dirt is too valuable. We have about… Forty-five-ish, square kilometers of farmable soil. Barely enough to feed the Seven Townships! Even though the skies opened and the sun is shining again it does little to help plants grow when all the dirt we can find is toxic and somehow only gets worse when you try to purify it."
I took a deep breath to steady myself.
Life Beat bent down slightly and gave me a quick hug. “I’m sorry that sounds horrible… I— I promise I’ll do my best to try and get these ponies to be willing to trade. But, we import our food. We’d need to buy more from farming communities to trade anything with you, and then our ability to uphold our side of the deal is out of our hooves.”
My ears drooped as I facehooved. “Oh, shoot! I didn’t even think of that!”
“It’s okay,” Life said as she reached out with her magic to pluck a pencil from her desk. “I have an easy solution… Do you have a map? There’s a town you should go to.”
I shook my head. "No, but I have some parchment."
"Cool beans!" Life exclaimed with a smile.
I inclined my head as I stared up at the green alicorn. "... What?"
The alcorn's cheeks flushed a pale pink. "Just a thing I say sometimes. Sorry."
“Oh…” My face fell with disappointment. “I was hoping you had beans. Mom would love some.”
☢★★◯★★☢
Ten minutes later I walked out of the Town Hall with a crudely drawn map that was at least sufficient for my needs. Namely, telling Wander ‘Let’s go here.’. Life had included enough landmarks and notes for me to find my way. Besides, the directions to the town of Sire’s Hollow were simple enough.
Go south along the road through Jutland until you come across Magebridge. Cross the river and head east then follow the road until you find a big farm town built right alongside it.
The map was secure in my bag, nestled between the side and my courier’s uniform. That had come off before I left the Hall. It was a relief to be way too warm instead of boiling.
Ugh… I should have realized it would be warmer down here, and had mom swap my coolant for something better suited to hotter places.
My usual 50:50 mix of distilled water and sodium ethoxide-ethanol coolant may be great for not freezing when it’s stupid cold, but the lower boiling point is going to be a problem here.
Note to self: Locate old garage, see if they have any ethylene glycol. Siphon it by mouth if I have to.
Also, do not let Wander watch you pee out several liters of fluid and then chug down a big bottle of engine coolant. She doesn't need to know you’re that cybernetic.
Thinking about Wander made me smile. I had a friend! Certainly something unexpected so soon on this journey, or well, at all. Upside, I’ll bet she knew a way to get to Sire’s Hollow that was even faster than Life’s route.
All I had to do was find the ghoul and her terrifying gun.
After all, if we ran into more bandits, I wanted her and her gun’s help. Especially after she showed me the barrel and stock attachments for it. She could make a rifle out of Bad Trip. Anywhere in her line of sight was safe as Celestia’s cake vault.
Heh. The Cake Vault. Now there’s a story.
According to legend, the Cake Vault was more secure than any Stable ever built, with all of Tartarus between you and the entrance.
Or at least, that’s what Queen Katydid said. She often told the story of her aunt’s life to young foals to try and inspire them to seek the same kind of greatness Princess Celestia had once embodied. She told me the story too, even though I wasn’t that young a filly. She realized I would need some help finding a path to walk in life. The story really did help.
Especially the bit about the Cake Vault. My mind said Her Majesty was exaggerating her aunt’s love of deserts. My spirit insisted there must be such a place because the world needed something purly whimsical in it.
As a young zebra, I’d often fantasize about questing for the Vault with a team of friends. I’d given up on that dream after deciding the vault was at best a room hidden in the Canterlot Palace which Flurry Heart must have found her way into once as a very small filly.
My desire for adventure hadn’t died with that foal’s dream. I’d become a courier in part to explore the world and face its dangers all while doing good things for the ponies around me. After all, if I became a hero, they would have to like me. Right?
I shook my head and smiled to myself. A hero. Me. Heh, right! I wasn’t brave or stupid enough for that, only crazy enough to keep being a mailmare.
I could still pretend, though, and this mission was like a quest. Wasn’t it?
I smiled and began to trot forward through the market in search of Wander. My companion! My hopefully trusty squire, who would stick with me through thick and thin on our quest to bring two nations closer together!
Well, no. Not two. Three.
I needed to learn more about the Herd. As well as this nation. Especially since I had no idea what NCR stood for!
It was time to find Wander. She said she would be playing for… Caps?
I frowned and stopped my random wanderings.
“Why caps?” I asked myself with an uncertain swish of my tail.
We didn’t need any hats did we? Was there some sort of toll to pay, and they only accepted barter in hat form?
“What do you mean, ‘Why caps?’,” a stallion asked.
I blinked. I hadn’t noticed I’d walked up along side a small market stall selling sewing supplies and cutlery. For… Some… Reason…
Strange inventory aside, the stall’s clerk seemed like a nice stallion. Tall, lovely brown coat, glistening blue eyes, and a thick scruffy black mane.
I felt my cheeks flush as I took in his chiseled jawline and the scar over his left eye. He was handsome, and tough! Quick, try flirting!
I turned my head and smiled my best sultry smile. “Well, if you want to barter with hats I’d be perfectly willing to… Accommodate your wares. If you know what I mean.”
The stallion snorted and bit his lip. At first I thought he sneezed. Then I realized he was hold in laughter.
My ears drooped as my tail tucked.
“I uh… I’ll just go,” I mumbled quietly, turning away to leave.
“No! Hold up,” the stallion said with a light chuckle.
I turned to look back at him with a shaky smile as I tried to hide my shattered pride and definitely failed.
He cleared his throat. “Given you thinking my sign says I want fifteen hats for a set of spoons, and that… Uh, amusingly novice attempt at flirting, I’m guessing you’re a hermit. Right?”
I decided to just nod. No need to open my stupid mouth again. I’d already blown everything…
He reached back with a hoof and took a small leather bag out from under his counter. A swift and deft tug of the strings with his teeth opened the bag, and he dumped a small number of old bottle caps onto his stall’s wooden counter.
“These caps,” he said with a smile. “We use bottle caps as currency. Not hats.”
I facehooved and groaned into my frog. “Oh, Celestia… That makes way more sense… I— I’m going to go. S— Sorry!”
I turned and did my best to quickly vanish into the crowd, and forget what an idiot I’d been in front of a hot pony.
It took awhile to find myself back in good spirits. Fortunately the market had lots of things to keep me distracted. Two Bits was home to lots of textiles and salvage. Between what I had overheard, and what Life had told me, Two Bits did a lot of trade for pre-war relics and scrap with the Hellhounds down in Jutland. Which had been called Manever before the war.
Mom hadn’t gone to Manever when getting the books for her library. She insisted it would be too dangerous. I remembered nothing at all of that particular city. I was looking forward to finding out just what would have been so dangerous two centuries ago.
Judging how everypony I saw was armed at all times, in their own walled off town no less, it could still be dangerous.
Well, that or Two Bits feared furniture thieves. Given just how much old furniture could be found in the market, I expected that useable furnishings was one of the town’s major exports.
It was a shame my saddlebags only had so much room in them in spite of their enchantments. There were stalls selling furniture. Actual prewar wooden furniture. I could make a fortune reselling the antiques in Pomare. Everypony loved antiques. Especially after our craftsponies restored them to their former glory.
Also, Her Majesty would have absolutely loved the old four poster bed I saw being loaded onto a wagon. Perhaps to be sold elsewhere?
Two Bits was an odd trade town. Normally a trade town had to be centralized, not isolated out by the border. But since every ghoul needed Aqua Cura to survive, Two Bits always had constant streams of wagons coming and going from deeper in the Heartlands. Which, in turn, meant the salvage they bought here could be sold at a mark up and shipped everywhere in Equestria with the hot water convoys.
Which was good! Existing logistics networks would make getting food from here to Lith as easy as getting from here to Lith! Which… To be fair, wasn’t that easy. One step at a time, though.
I had just reached the entrance of a small shop towards the far side of the market from the town hall, intending to look at its selection of ‘Charming Trinkets and Tranquil Charms’ (because, well, magic shop!) when I heard the faint sound of music in the distance.
Softly jangling guitar notes drifted through the energetic buzz of dozens of conversations. The melody called to me, but so did the store!
I never got to browse the enchanted item shops back home! But if I went in I might never find Wander… At least, not before nightfall… and Mayor I-refuse-to-learn-his-name was actually serious about having me shot, probably…
If he had them use a rifle or a shotgun…
I shivered and turned to follow the music. I had to leave, and quickly.
I followed the music away from the market and through an industrial district of sorts. It wasn't very big, just a thin strip of buildings and workyards where ponies were busily sorting through scrap. The good bits were moved aside, and the rest was sorted by material.
A recycling yard! Good to see the ponies here were smart enough to know that very little is ever truly useless.
I made it through the recycling center and found a small patch of clear space, just big enough for two dozen ponies to stand between the yard and the wall. It took me a moment to realize that the space was only there thanks to being in front of a gate. It was an unloading area for salvage, one which Wander had transformed into an amphitheater with the help of a few strands of Hearthwarming lights she dug up from Celestia knows where.
She was standing atop an old hooflocker, her cloak billowing in a non-existent wind as she levitated her guitar in front of her to serenade the crowd, who would occasionally toss a bottle cap into an old metal bowl at the foot of Wander’s stage.
Wander’s smile was visible, peeking from behind her scarf as she played through the instrumental. She looked so… Alive. Not that I thought of ghouls as dead, undeath is just a different kind of living.
It was her performance. Standing there in front of a crowd, all of whom were entranced by her performance, was this mare’s personal heaven.
As Wander’s stone-fang-pick strummed her guitar’s strings, the ponies watching found their personal heavens for a moment too.
I stood and stared at the ancient ghoul, unable to do anything but watch her play and listen with a smile on my face. Then, like a slap to the face, the song was over. Its absence was followed by a moment of shocked silence that erupted into a chaotic storm of happy stomping, applause, and cries for an encore. Even over the noise, I could hear the sound of caps clinking as they filled Wander’s bowl.
If I had caps, I’d toss all of them into her bowl too! I’d never heard anypony ever play anything so amazing before! If that’s how she could play then it was absolutely certain that Wander really hated telling Pip’s story. Even in song form. That balad hadn’t had even a fraction of this song’s heart.
I reared up and waved my hooves, not to get Wander’s attention, but simply to cheer for her. In spite of my intentions, Wander noticed me and waved back. “Hey! Gears, get on up here.”
The crowd turned to look, and then actually parted for me. It felt rather nice.
As I walked up to Wander I heard several ponies quietly and excitedly wondering amongst each other if I was also a musician.
I was not. I could sing, sort of. But, well, never in front of anypony!
I made my way up to Wander and smiled up at her on her hooflocker stage. “That was amazing! Way better than the ballad you sang the other night.”
Wander coughed and rubbed the back of her head with one hoof. “Well, uh… I’m really tired of that song. I sort of also skipped a few dozen verses… Anyways, how did the delivery go?”
My smile fell into an irritable glare almost instantly. “I want to stab the mayor in the face with a soldering iron.”
“Yeah, buck that guy!” Three different ponies in the crowd said in unison.
Wander flinched. “Owch… Make the delivery?”
I nodded. “Yes. Also, um... I’ve been told to leave before sunset or he’ll have me shot.”
Wander took a step backward in shock, nearly falling off her improvised stage. “I— What?!” She looked out to her crowd. “Can anypony tell me if that’s a sick joke or serious?”
“It’s serious alright,” a mare said with a particularly grisly swish of her tail.
“Yeah, he hates zebras, and ghouls, and most ponies… Oh! And his wife.” A younger stallion added.
“Especially her, but buck her,” called somepony in the back with a gravelly baritone.
“With a bucking anchor!” A mare added.
Okay. I didn’t want to think about him having a wife, but okay.
I glared at the young stallion slightly. If I had a shit list, he’d be on it...
Wander growled and muttered something under her breath I didn't quite catch. Then she cleared her throat. “Okay, everypony. I was planning on doing a full four hours. But, if that’s how this town is, my friend and I will be moving on in an hour.”
A sea of disappointed moans and even a few boos pummeled my ears, forcing them to lay flat.
Wander reared up and held her hooves out to calm the crowd. “Woah! Easy there, everypony! Tell you what, to make up for the lack of time, I’ll play something really special.”
My ears perked back up. “Like what?” I asked, and the crowd echoed me.
I was really, really looking forward to somepony who had been alive in pre-ministry Equestria playing something she thought was ‘special’.
She meant something from before the MoI crackdown on non-traditional music, right? The ministries controlled what music got to be sold on holotape. They never approved anything that wasn't ‘culturally unifying’. It made Wander into an extremely rare source of music, if she was a musician back in the days of vinyl records and live performances.
Which she was, right? I mean, she had to be. She looked old enough.
Wander waited for the crowd to start murmuring excitedly then, to my surprise she slid her guitar behind her back, where it vanished into her saddlebags. Yeah, definitely magic, those. Then, from the other side of her cloak, dragged out by her blue nimbus, came an old, very worn down, synthesizer.
I couldn’t help but squee a little. She was going to play something pre-ministry.
Wander’s synthesizer looked like a cross between a guitar, a boombox, and a keyboard. It was battered, it was scratched, and its plastic housing was faded to the point where the once snow white body was as dull and colorless as Wander’s own coat.
I raised an eyebrow. “Where were you hiding that?”
“Burrfoot Bag,” Wander murmured as she flicked a few switches and buttons on her instrument then set it down keys up in front of her forehooves as she stood over it, ready to play, and cleared her throat. “Fillies and Gentlecolts, I would like to show you how to make a hit record...First, we start with the sequencer.”
Wander flicked a switch and her instrument began to produce a faint, rapid, and rhythmic sound. Almost as if it were saying ‘rub’ or ‘tub’ over and over and over.
“And now, a high hat,” Wander announced, flicking a second switch and causing a symbol to join the pulsing electronic tone.
She let a few seconds pass. The crowd looked uncertain. They had never heard anything like this before. I’d only heard a fragment of a song in this genre which dad had found on a Neighpone holotape in his department’s evidence bin. This had been called Electronica, if I was remembering correctly.
“These are the percussion instruments…” Wander said nonchalantly as she flicked another switch, allowing a snare drum to began tapping out a fairly catchy beat.
A few ponies started to leave, clearly not into it as much. One mare started to shuffle her hooves along with the beat.
Wander noticed, and laughed. “Hold on, guys. It needs a little bass.”
Another switch was flipped, and suddenly a deep pulsing bass drum was added to the mix. Suddenly the seemingly amateurish tune had a rhythm. Suddenly it had a pulse. A life beat all of its own. It wasn't anything special but… You could dance to this. Ponies were dancing to this!
The whole crowd began to sway slightly. Their flanks moving along with the beat. They stopped walking away.
I smiled. She had them. She certainly had me.
Wander winked at everypony. “And now… Magic!”
She lifted her forehooves, bending her hind legs for balance, and began to play the keyboard. The song crystallized, the beat you could dance to melded with electronic melody unlike anything I’d ever heard before. They flowed together, rolling in the bass’ depth, and mixing with the percussion in a way I found unique and beautiful.
Wander continued playing, creating sounds I’d thought could only be accomplished by an orchestra. Her song seemed to last an eternity, but in a joyous way. It was bright and sunny, and it made you feel welcome and loved. It invited you to dance, and led the way.
Then, all too soon, it was over and Wander was speaking. “That was Celestia's Sun Eternal. A song written for the Princess by m— A pony I used to know. I hope you enjoyed it. She’d love to know it’s still being played two hundred years later. Even if I did put my own touch on this rendition.”
I missed the hint of sadness in her voice at first. But then it hit me. I’d listened to something her wife had written.
Celestia above… She mentioned her wife wrote orchestral pieces when we had been making smalltalk yesterday. She had actually just played a piece for sixty ponies, on her own, and made it sound excellent… Just, wow!
Then the sound of applause and the clinking caps of her bowl overflowing drowned out my thoughts and Wander gave me a nudge. “Hey, take the caps here and buy anything you think is essential before we head out. Basic equipment only. Rope. Chain if they have it. Climbing gear especially. Come back when you’re done and I’ll have more caps for optional extras.”
“Sure thing,” I said as I emptied her bowl into my saddlebag and set it back down.
I turned and squeezed my way through the crowd and headed back to the market, now feeling extremely sad I couldn't stay and listen to more of the music Wander liked to play.
Stupid racist old stallion…
Oh well! I’d get to hear her play everywhere we went together!
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I thought the stars the the zebras were so scared of were just a myth. Yeah, they were radioactive, but they were still just rocks.
9433262 They might be. But in one of kkat's blogs she mentions the zebras believed Luna to be one of the stars given flesh. So it was sort of a Holy War for them.
Im suprised that guy is still alive if he makes other just that angry against him. He only has to slip up once and that room of his gets a new panoramic window.
And heres me thinking a little bit of Axel F wouldnt go amiss.
Just discovered this story and am totally hooked!
9435680 I'm glad you like it! I was feeling a bit down today :3 Thanks for cheering me up.
As good a plan for the local delivery as anytime else.
Hey, radio contact is a start, just got to find some other option for trading and that can come after communication is a go.
Nice performance, Wander.
Life Beat might just throw you a party if you could manage that.
Even if they do have to build a new town hall first, if the bomb threat is real.
I really enjoyed this chapter as well; the humor and seriousness never clashed for more attention, and the slightly saddening overtones at certain points. The characters are excellent, and certain character moments felt really genuine and real -- which is great! This has been the best chapter I've read yet, at least in terms of pulling more raw emotions (nothing has beaten the best scene from chapter one yet, though). Let's see, where to begin?
The horrible mayor, as he was with the opening of the chapter. There is enough there to sympathize with the mayor, but still enough to want him condemned. He is clearly a racist, but he has well-intentions? That is, of course, how I interpreted that. Through and through, he is cynical and hateful, condemning, even. Betrayed in the past, he lost any faith he had for non-ponies (and ponies, too, apparently). I do not believe he is a good character (I mean that in a moral sense), nor do I believe him to be an evil character; he is simply doing what he can to stay alive and, hopefully, keep the town alive. I do not believe he is genuinely racist or hateful, he just lost any trust he had, and that has made him bitter and vile. Funny enough, that seems to also be represented with his appearance and... smell. I distinctly recall thinking he would be the first real antagonist (first shown as the villain, at least) when he appeared. In the end, I hope things actually go well for him; that he is able to move past his lost faith and not be such an... a jerk.
I found that the shared moment of terror as Gears left the office was rather humorous; Life Beat 'eek'ing out of surprise, and Gears being surprised from the poor mare's surprise. If one has more right to be afraid, I'd say Life Beat gets it. The rest of the scene plays out quite nicely, as well; we get to learn more about... the mayor (totally haven't forgotten his name), Two Bits', and Gears and her mother. The small bits of humor spread throughout the scene really kept things from looking bleak or grim, even when talking about the lack of sustainability Lith and her townships are under. Things were just furry (heheh) enough to show the danger, importance, and struggle while not overwhelming or exhausting the reader -- and keeping to the tones initially set at the beginning of the story (something I wouldn't expect to change so early on).
I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the few jokes and other tidbits I found (things that didn't fit in elsewhere); well, mention before I happen to forget to mention them (compilation time!). Near the beginning of the chapter when describing the desk: the line about how it is like a Stable-tec Overseer's desk but without the logo was a nice touch, as it allowed for some of the easiest picturization yet -- "Know what the overseer's desk looks like? Yeah? Great! That's what it looks like!"! Next, the listing of 'awful' things and the adding of "Flim-Flam Co Mac'n'Cheese"; it was hilarious, and I'd be lying to say I didn't laugh! Gears arguing that the Caesar makes decisions without the people felt like something I remember you saying (on a different matter), I'd have to say I agree with that -- if asked, I'm certain a majority of zebras never wanted the war to begin, or doubted it after some time.
The small quips given by her 'dad' that can really set 'him' apart from the rest of the party -- the levels of snark and humor rivaling my own! -- and is an excellent showcase of the "little pony" in her head. The cake vault sounds like it could be an actual thing, and I'd absolutely believe that Celestia has an entire vault filled to the brim with cakes!
The next scene (I'm going to count caps and music separately) was all too sensical. Based off what I know, Lith uses a more defined pre-war style currency (perhaps one wholly unique to the Crystal Empire) and that has caused Gears to have no understanding of the currency used by the rest of the Wasteland. Having her not know complies with what has been present in the story and allows for the introduction to the basis of a caps based currency (in case anyone hasn't actually read the original or have played/seen any of the games); and it is slightly played for laughs, which was also great. I certainly wouldn't have thought to use caps (the apparel) in-place of the currency as the basis for Gears to gather an initial reaction and understanding. The delivery was great, too! Having a 'hot' salespone meet her, where she also thoroughly embarrass herself (something I decided to just take her word for! XD ) and is given the proper contextualization, so as to later succeed where her current course would have led to failure in one way or another. (Totally wouldn't trade a spoon set for twenty caps, nope... definitely not. >.> )
Before I start the "not-wub" (small comment on a line for context later) scene, I'd like to put my theory down regarding Wander (totally haven't forgotten full name). I believe her to be Octavia; now, while initially believing her to be Vinyl Scratch, I've had a change of heart with the latest details. The synthesizer is only really shown to be used by Vinyl (in the show), and it isn't unexpected for a friends to pick up a skill after having been around one another. So it wouldn't be uncalled for if Octavia learned how to use a synthesizer just as Vinyl did. There is also the "written by m--" line, which I initially thought was 'me' but the next paragraph proved otherwise. So, to summarize, it would be nonsensical to have Wander be Vinyl given the evidence provided, but it would be internally (perhaps more externally) sound to have Wander be Octavia.
The music scene was humorous and epic. At least, Gears made it out to be epic. While I do get a sense of what was played, I'd like to have heard it, and that would be taking an extra step that, in all honesty, isn't needed. The beats were well defined, and the reactions were sound. The break between the two songs was fun, too. I may have skipped a line or two while reading about the first song, as I have this small blur when i think back to it -- or I may have gotten lost in thought, for whatever reason, and just kept reading on, like a drone or something (no offense to the changelings). All in all, Wander is a great performer and is easily the bard of the party; I'd like to see her play more whenever able, as it would be interesting to see the different receptions waiting for her. The second song was... magical, as it really shows the levels of care she puts into maintaining the synth; I can see her going to extreme levels just to keep it alive and working -- and that is both pure and sad. The levels of care that are subtly hinted at are... stunning, to say the least. This is the main reason I commented about this being the best chapter yet, as, for me, character moments are far more meaningful than story beats -- story beats are amazing, too, don't get me wrong, but when it comes to individual chapters, the smaller character moments are the greatest parts. Anyway, where was I? Ah, right! The second song's energy was refreshing after the small break between songs. Seeing the apathetic reception at first turn around to cheer was most definitely amazing! It certainly shouldn't always be the case, but for a start it was exquisite. The break between the songs was funny! The best line in the chapter was when the three all said "Yeah, buck that guy" at the same time -- I had to take a minute break to make sure I could keep my composure. And, just to be clear, it was the best line when it comes to the humor (which also may have been the best line in general, I'd have to look back). They then went to talk about the Mayor's wife, I wonder when we get to see her? I've clearly lost focus, so I'll have to move on to the next topic! XD
Anyway, if I missed anything, blame my lack of focus. I'm looking forward to the next chapter, and I hope to read it tomorrow, as long as my mind will let me -- I also hope to get some writing done, for once. Until then,
~Desh
I have to wonder how the mayor hasn't been removed from power at this point yet. Maybe the common ponies are kept from talking with him when possible to lessen his presence. Besides him, I found Life Beat to be absolutely adorkable. Nicely done with her character. I look foward to seeing her sometime later in the future. Wander is by far the character I'm most curious about. Her character just screams tragic past and I almost can't wait to find out more about her. Welp, I'm running out of things to say so I'll end it here. Thanks again for more horse words.
P.S Also found this little mixup:
Not sure how this was meant to be worded but it seems like you started writing it one way, then went to change it but left what you meant to change as well.
9492844 Whoops! Thanks for spotting that flub. I'll fix her up :3
Huh. Everything including the kitchen sink! Also, the fact that Flim&Flam's "goods" are still around is horrifying. I don't know if those would be something that improve with age (Welp, it can't get any worse!) or not, but the fact that they still survive says unkind things about their health value.
The chorus of complaint about the mayor and the coolant change bit were hilarious, by the way.
Poor Wander. I'm getting a very strong suspicion as to who she was, but either way, playing a song written by someone close to you who's now dead... That's gotta hurt.
gentlecolt's
purely
cymbal?
And slowly are we seeing more and more of the northern setting that the story are sat in, and with a repeat of what I have said earlier is it clear that you have given your setting a lot of thought before you began to write. Its nice to see a setting that have a lot of "logic" to it, making it more belivable and pushing the limits of my willing suspension of disbelief when I encounter stuff that I normally would think as too much. That you have such a high level of humor, kitchen sinks and cake vaults and all, does also make it feel very MLP which I have mentioned before, which is an aspect that a lot of other stories seem to forget. Its easy to write a fallout story with ponies in it instead of humans, but making a true FoE story balancing both aspects is a hard balancing act, and you are doing it very well so far.
Nitpick
"I shook myself from the stupor his eyes plunged me into" Linebreak mistake
9782842
We will leave it for a while, but it will come back. With plot!
Thank you very much. I do try to at least have a solid foundation underhoof.
Yeah, that's... That's a problem. It's fantasy. Some writers forget that just because they think it's possible dosn't mean the audience will. YOu need ot show them "In this world, X can happen!" and make them believe it. I'm glad I've succeeded to a point with you :3
That you have such a high level of humor, kitchen sinks and cake vaults and all, does also make
Yeah. That's why I disliked Project Horizons. It feels like fallout, with a pony mod. It's suposed to be Ponies and fallout in a blender.
Also, those linebreaks... they are not in the gdoc, nor in any other text field I paste the chapters into. What the heck, fimfic?!
Legendary quip right there.