Love, Sugar, and Sails

by DSNesmith

4. Settling In

The voyage had not greatly improved Rye’s opinion of ships. Almost worse than his churning stomach was the awful travel lag that persisted even after they had left the Sugar Queen behind. He found himself incredibly weary despite the early hour of the afternoon, and upon arriving at the embassy he promptly fell into bed and slept dreamlessly for the rest of the day and night.

When he woke the next morning, it took him a moment to get his bearings. The first day in a new country was always a little disorienting, but he’d gone through the process often enough by now that the sensation passed quickly.

He sat up, finding the sergeant still asleep in the neighboring bed. Rye stretched his forelegs out and yawned, resisting the urge to crawl back under the sheets and spend the morning hiding from the world.

Sliding out of bed in a sleepy fog, his hooves found the floor. He fumbled underneath the bed for the suitcase containing his spare robes, until his hoof connected with the strap and he pulled it out onto the floor. A few minutes later he was dressed and ready to begin the day. It was still too early in the job for any real work to have piled up, so Rye rummaged through his reading material for the volume on Zyre.

Book in hoof, he leaned back on his bed and propped it open. He flipped through to find the place he’d left off, and spent the next hour reading up on the various districts of the city.

The one that caught his attention was the market district. The market back home in Canterlot was large, but even it had nothing on the great port city trading hubs like the Great Bazaar in the Delta. Zyre’s market was on a different order of magnitude altogether. There were goods here from all four corners of the Earth, legal or otherwise.

Curiosity seized him. He had nothing else to do today, no pressing meetings to attend or reports to write. Rye glanced over at the sleeping sergeant and decided against waking him. He hated being nannied by bodyguards, even well-meaning ones. Today would be his last day of freedom before the security teams descended to smother him once more.

Rye grabbed a coinpurse from his suitcase and grinned. Being the Princess of Equestria’s personal ambassador had its perks. He wasn’t exactly rich, but he had enough funds to buy some souvenirs for his family and friends back home. He nestled the pouch inside his robes with a jingle of coins.

He scribbled a brief note, “Gone to markets, be back for dinner –Rye,” and left it on his bed, then slipped quietly out of the room.

The secretary apparently had weekends off, for the embassy’s foyer was empty when he reached the ground floor. Rye snuck a glance in either direction before rummaging through her desk to look for a map of the city. He found one in short order, nestled under a weathered copy of Your Stripes and You: A Guide to Keeping Your Coat Fabulous. Tucking it into his robes, he trotted outside.

The markets were on the west side of the city, near the docks, only a fifteen minute walk from the embassies. Rye forged ahead into the cobblestone streets of Zyre, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of the city of zebras. Even at nine in the morning on a Saturday, the city was packed. An incredible crowd of passersby stemmed the roads, but thanks to his small size he was able to slip through them with relative ease.

Rye carried on through at a light canter, watching the variety of creatures in the city with amazement. There were zebras everywhere, but there were also ponies, griffons, camels, antelopes, and if his eyes did not deceive him, even a pair of the reclusive elk. Upon turning another corner, he found himself gobsmacked to see an elephant lumbering down the street. It was rare to see one of them so far from Elefala; few ships could support the weight of an elephant crew. He wondered what on earth she was doing here. Probably buying sugar, he reflected, remembering the heavy focus of his briefing material on the sugar trade.

As he made his way through the city, Rye began to feel a strange sensation. It took him several minutes to pinpoint it. He didn’t feel like he was being watched—he felt like he wasn’t. For the first time in, well, for the first time he could remember, the surrounding ponies and zebras weren’t staring at him. Bored eyes scanned his horn and his wings, and kept on moving. The Zyrans had seen it all; to them he wasn’t even a curiosity. After all, compared to elk and elephants, who would spare a second glance at a little crossbreed pony in yellow robes? He felt insensibly cheered.

By the time he reached the markets, the noon business rush had already gotten under way. Countless shoppers crowded the streets, pressing up against the outdoor stalls and fighting to enter overfilled stores. Shopkeepers yelled out advertisements for their wares, while customers haggled and shouted. The noise was incredible, as thousands of voices strained to be heard over each other.

There was no single plaza, as the markets were much too large to be contained by one. Rye wandered through the streets of the district, curiously letting his hooves carry him to one stall after another. The merchants were selling an unimaginable variety of food, clothing, trinkets, and Celestia-knew what else.

Rye sniffed the air and smiled as he caught the scent of baking bread. He followed his nose to a small building on the side of the road, marked by a hanging sign that said Zerrick’s Bakery—The Finest Baked Goods since 653 AS. He pushed through the doorway, hearing a bell jingle just like at his father’s place.

The inside was already occupied by several zebras and a pony or two. They were milling around the storefront, picking out pastries. Rye browsed the selection, looking for apricot strudel.

It had become something of a tradition for him to seek out a new city’s bakery and buy his father’s favorite dish, just to compare it to Apricot’s work. He was so intent on searching that he bumped into somepony standing next to him.

“Oh, sorry—” he began automatically, as the other pony began likewise apologizing, and then they both paused. He found himself face-to-face with a blue earth pony mare. It took him a moment to recognize her without the uniform. “Ensign Metrel! Fancy meeting you here.”

Metrel looked surprised. “Ambassador! What are you doing out of the embassy?”

He grinned. “Enjoying my last few days of freedom before the politicking starts.”

“Where's your bodyguard?”

“The sergeant's not my bodyguard, he's just here to help me with paperwork and be window dressing for the Marquis.”

She cringed. “You mean you're wandering out here alone?”

Rye dismissed her concern with a hoof. “I'll be fine. I haven’t made anyone here angry enough to send assassins after me. Yet.”

She gave him a hesitant glance, apparently unsure if he was joking or not. “Um… I think Captain Petalbloom would feel safer if you had an escort, Ambassador.”

“Nopony’s going to try anything in the middle of daylight.” Blast it, he’d hoped to spend at least one day not being watched like the chick of an overprotective hawk.

She did not look convinced. “But now that I’ve seen you, it’s my hide on the line if you get hurt. I should walk you back to the embassy.”

“I’d planned to spend most of the day out here.”

Metrel sighed. Rye could almost hear her bidding farewell to her plans for the morning. “Ambassador, you need security. I’ll stand in as bodyguard until you’re back on embassy grounds.”

Rye restrained himself from frowning. At least he’d have a guide. “Very well, Ensign Metrel.”

He smiled involuntarily at the rhyme. The cadences of her name rolled pleasantly off the tongue. Metrel, Metrel, dancing in the dell… It seemed like a familiar surname, but he couldn’t place it. He looked around the bakery. “Have you seen any apricot strudel in here?”

Metrel shrugged. “I’m sure they have some. Zerrick is the best baker in the city.” She smiled. “Actually, he’s the best baker I’ve ever bought from, period.”

“Is he, now? We’ll see.” Rye’s mouth thinned and his eyes glinted with amusement. Metrel’s brow rose uncertainly. She seemed quite off-put by his casual friendliness. Rye managed to keep himself from grinning. After years of close association with military personnel, he’d discovered a low taste for unsettling them by breaking the unwritten rules of protocol between soldiers and politicians.

She tapped a hoof awkwardly, looking conflicted about her new, unexpected job for the day. “So, Ambassador, do you… need help finding anything in the markets?” Her voice had an anxious edge.

There was more to this than her sense of duty, he realized with a blink of surprise. She was trying to make up for yesterday. That was kind of her; most ponies he caught staring at him settled for pretending the incident hadn’t occurred. It was rare for somepony to feel guilty enough about it to apologize, even indirectly.

“No, thank you, just window shopping today.” He paused. “Wait, actually, yes. Do you know where I can find a jewelry store? I promised I’d get some souvenirs for Cranberry and my mother.”

“Certainly.” His acceptance of her offer seemed to bolster Metrel’s confidence. “I can take you there once you’re done here.”

“That will be fine.” He resumed his search for strudel, thinking curiously.

Metrel… he felt with growing certainty he’d heard the name before somewhere. Connected with his mother, perhaps? Rye’s hoof tracked across the shelves, seeking pastries. No, he realized, not his mother; the military at large.

It hit him in a flash. She must be related to Admiral Jerric Metrel, commander of the Equestrian Third Fleet and captain of the Levanah, one of the biggest ships in the entire Navy. He was famous in certain circles for his involvement in the battle of Gallopoli fifteen-or-so years ago, where his crew had singlehoofedly captured two enemy vessels in intense boarding actions.

Interesting. So what was his… sister? No, Jerric Metrel was at least twenty-five; his daughter, then. What was she doing in a frankly awful post like embassy security? Maybe she was trying to avoid accusations of familial privilege. Rye was familiar with that situation. He felt a pang of sympathy for a kindred spirit.

He found the apricot-filled treats at last, and shuffled a few of them into a bag. He waited in line to pay, with Metrel in tow. Rye glanced over at her own bag. “What’ve you got?”

“Oh!” she said, startled. “Just some chocolate cupcakes.”

Rye smiled. “My father makes some wonderful chocolate cake. He’s a baker, back in Canterlot.”

“Ah.” She glanced down at his bag. “I haven’t been to Canterlot since going through the academy.”

“Where are you from, then?”

She still seemed uneasy about making small talk with him, but her voice was warming up. “My family has a little estate in Whitetail.” She looked briefly wistful. “I haven’t been back home in years.”

Rye scratched his ear. “When’s your next leave?”

“Oh, I’ve got thirty days or so saved up. I just never really felt like going through the hassle of traveling.”

“That, I can empathize with.” Rye tilted his head. “But don’t you want to go back and see your mother and father?”

At the word “father,” Metrel’s face instantly reverted to yesterday’s bland, emotionless, officer-on-duty look. Bingo, Rye thought. Got it in one.

“Maybe sometime this fall,” she said, in a tone that signaled the end of the conversation.

They finally reached the front of the line, where they paid, and then they took their parcels of pastries outside.

Officer Metrel led him through the markets, weaving through the crowded streets, until at last they arrived at a store with dozens of gold and silver pieces of jewelry displayed in the windows. Rye looked around as they entered, biting his lip. “Mind helping me look?”

Metrel smiled uncomfortably. “I’m not sure I should get involved in personal matters…” Rye got the impression she was trying to become invisible.

Well, he decided, he wasn’t going to let her. He wanted her to look past the yellow robes, the wings, and the horn, and see him; not as a dignitary or a biological curiosity, but as a pony. He wanted them all to see. “Please?”

She gave a little breath of resignation. “Very well.”

“Great! Cranberry’ll love anything cultural. I think mom would want something more traditional, though.” With Tyria closely following him, he began walking through the store, inspecting the displays.

He eyed a bulky, ornate necklace with a tentative frown. “What do you think?”

“Um.” She blinked uncertainly.

Rye gave her an encouraging look. “I’m hopeless with this sort of thing. Give me a mare’s perspective.”

“Well,” she said cautiously, “It looks a bit heavy. And the gem in the center isn’t cut very nicely.”

He pointed to another, much smaller and made of silver. “How about that one?”

“Too thin. It looks fragile.”

“This one?”

“Not worth the price.” A faint smile crept onto her face. She looked like she was starting to enjoy herself.

“How about this?” Rye eyed a curved, floral-design necklace with a circular emerald set in a golden filigree.

“Ooh.” Tyria nodded approvingly. “Very nice.”

“Excellent.” He rapped the glass to summon a store worker over to package the necklace up for sale while he looked for a matching piece for Cranberry.

They made their way around the store, inspecting the locally-styled jewelry. Many pieces were cheaply made, or too expensive, while others looked so delicate he feared they would not survive being shipped home. A pair of cobalt-blue earrings briefly caught his attention. They would match Cranberry’s eyes, but they didn’t really say zebra to him.

A few bits of jewelry were practically hidden in a case in the corner of the store. One in particular captured his eye. “Oh, my.” It was a simple necklace compared to most of the others around it, but striking. It was made of white and blue beads arranged in geometric patterns, primal but not primitive. It had no precious metals adorning it, but then, that wasn’t the point.

Tyria gave a murmur of appreciation for the necklace. “That’s certainly eye-catching.”

“Yes. It’s perfect.” Rye had an employee package it up, too, and paid. He walked out of the store with two packages and a much lighter coinpurse, pleased that he’d managed to find something for his family and friends. He’d have to look around later for gifts to get Inger and his father, but at the moment, lunch called.

He slid the packages inside his robes and grinned at Tyria. “The best things about these,” he said, tugging on his robes, “are the really deep pockets on the inside.” She managed a faint smile. Rye’s stomach growled, and he looked down at it with bemusement. “Know any good places to eat around here?”

Tyria listed a few, and Rye chose the closest. They headed off again, passing dozens of storefronts filled with fascinating baubles and knickknacks. Rye’s eyes flicked past them all with interest.

They arrived at a little café on the outskirts of the district, far enough away from the main market hub for the noise to fade. The building had several tables outside on the edges of the street, with worn seat cushions at each. Rye and Tyria entered, shouldering past a zebra on the way out. “I’m surprised the line’s so short,” said Rye.

“This place is a little out of the way. The ambassador—Milliden, I mean—likes to come here.”

Rye scanned the menus while they waited. “Tell me, Ensign, are you a tea or a coffee pony?”

“Mm. Coffee. I’ve developed a taste for it while I’ve been here. Much better than the stuff we import back in Equestria.”

“Tea, for me. I’m a traditionalist.” They reached the front of the line at last, and Rye ordered his tea and a biscuit. Tyria stood at some semblance of attention beside him, until he gave her a curious look. “Aren’t you getting anything?”

She frowned. “I’m on duty, Ambassador.”

“You’re not in uniform.” He raised an eyebrow and half-smiled.

Tyria bit her lip, and then turned to the cashier to order a drink and a bagel. With their light lunch in hoof, they retired to one of the outdoor tables.

They sat on opposite sides of the little round table. Rye took a sip of his tea, and smacked his lips in satisfaction. He looked up at the clear, blue sky, and let the warm sunlight play on his face. “Is the weather always this nice around here?”

Tyria gave him a hard stare. “Why are you doing this?”

“Sorry?” Rye blinked in confusion. “Going shopping, you mean?”

“Talking to me. Asking my opinion on those gifts for your family. I’m supposed to be your bodyguard.”

Rye smiled sadly. “Does that mean we can’t be friends?” He sighed and took a drink of tea. “Everywhere I go, I’m surrounded by guards and diplomats. They all think I’ve been politically appointed as a favor to my mother. I see the glances of contempt, though I pretend not to. And then there’s these.” He flapped his wings.

Tyria flushed guiltily. “I’m sorry for yesterday.”

“It’s quite all right.” Rye bit off a chunk of his biscuit and swallowed it. “Most ponies haven’t seen a pegacorn before. I’m used to it by now.” He glumly drank his tea. “I just wish I had somepony to talk to, out on assignment. It gets lonely, with everyone holding you out at leg’s reach.” He looked up at her. “I apologize if I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

They sat quietly for a few moments while they worked on lunch. Finally, it was Tyria broke the silence. “So how did you become an ambassador?”

Rye laughed. “Now that is a long story. A few weeks before the War of Whitetail, I was out in the woods, when I ran into a courier and a group of griffons…”

A new voice, silky and smooth, spoke from behind him. “So, you’re the new Equestrian in town.”

They turned to see a griffon clothed in red gazing evenly at them both. The griffon’s mouth curled in a smile. “Apologies for interrupting.” He raised a claw expectantly. “Tatius Gableclaw, Gryphan Ambassador to Zyre.”

Rye shook it with a hoof. “Greetings, Ambassador.”

“When I heard the son of General Firemane would be in town, I was hoping I would get the chance to meet him.” Tatius sat down with them, to Rye’s annoyance. The griffon folded his claws on the table. “My hapless brother met Firemane once, actually. I’ve gathered that she left quite an impression.”

“She doesn't like that name very much.” Rye squinted. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I simply wanted to see for myself if the stories were true. And I see they are.” Tatius’s eyes flashed over Rye’s wings and his horn. “You are... rather young for your position.”

A wit, eh? Two can play at that game. Rye smiled thinly. “We don’t live as long as griffons. We have to get more done while we can.”

The griffon took the implied insult with a grin. “So, what brings you to Zyre, Ambassador Strudel?”

Rye took a wary sip of tea. “Pirates.”

“Ah, yes, our local snake problem.” Tatius’s tail swished idly through the air. “Annoying little vipers, aren’t they? I hear they’re led by an Equestrian.”

Tyria snapped, “A pony, maybe, but not an Equestrian.”

He turned to Tyria. “Forgive me, if I’ve offended your patriotic sensibilities. Care to introduce me to your lady friend, here, Ambassador?”

“Bodyguard,” said Tyria coldly. “And I’m on duty.”

Tatius gave her coffee and bagel a dry look. “Clearly.” He stood and stretched his wings behind him with a yawn. “Well, I’m afraid I can’t stay to chat. Some of us have important work to do.” He bowed—Rye was unable to detect any hint of mockery, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there—and left, fading into the crowded streets.

“What an ass,” said Rye, scowling. “Is the whole Gryphan embassy like that?”

“They’re not all that bad, but Tatius…” Tyria shook her head.

Rye tapped his chin. “I wonder what his important work is?”

“Who knows?” Tyria gave a start. “It’s nearly one in the afternoon, Ambassador. I should get you back to the embassy.”

A fierce curiosity was burning inside him, now. Rye wanted to know where that griffon was going. But he’d never convince Tyria to follow Tatius.

“Certainly. Let’s—” His hoof knocked into his cup, spilling the lukewarm tea all over Tyria.

“Gah!”

“Oh, damn, I’m sorry—” He grabbed the cup and placed it upright. “I’ll find a napkin or something.”

“No, don’t bother,” Tyria sighed. “There’s a water spigot inside the café, I’ll go wash up. Wait inside, please.”

He nodded. “Of course.” They entered the little building. Rye waited for her to disappear into the back before tearing out of the store and into the crowd.

He could still see a flash of red in the distance, and he threaded through the passersby to follow it. As he drew nearer, he caught a glimpse of the griffon as Tatius swept out of the main street and into an alleyway.

Rye reached the entrance of the alley and peeked his head around. The griffon had turned somewhere deeper into the spaces behind the buildings. Rye followed, listening carefully.

“You’re late,” came a rough grunt.

“Apologies,” said Tatius’s silky voice. “I saw an opportunity too good to pass up.”

“Buy trinkets on your own time.”

Rye crept closer to the second alleyway, craning his ears.

“So what message do you have for me? Have you incompetents lost another shipment?”

“Viridian needs another two dozen barrels by the end of the month.”

Tatius’s voice instantly grew sharp. “He can’t be serious. Do you realize how difficult it is to account for missing—”

“Look, griffon, can you do it or not?”

Rye heard an irritated sigh. “I will try.”

“You’ll do more than try, or we’ll go back to taking what we want from Gryphan ships.”

“I—very well.” Tatius’s voice drew lower. “I was led to believe that you would be using them to raid shipping vessels, but I haven’t heard of any ship sinkings. Where is this material going?”

The other voice growled. “We’re done here, griffon. Twenty-four barrels. End of the month.”

Rye heard the faint sound of hooves on cobblestones as the speaker left. The scrape of claws echoed in the alleyway and he realized with alarm that Tatius was coming back in his direction. Rye cut and ran, galloping out of the alleyway and vanishing into the crowd.

He made his way back to the café, mulling over what he’d heard. So the Gryphan ambassador was involved with the pirates, but how deeply? What was he stealing for them? Was his government aware of it?

Tyria was standing outside the café as he approached, scanning the crowds with a frantic look on her face. He felt a wave of guilt wash over him. He stepped out of the traffic and caught her attention with a wave.

Her face pale, she rushed up to him. “Where were you?” She ran a hoof helplessly through her mane. “If you’d gotten hurt, I could lose my—” Tyria gave him a look that was a curious mix of desperation and aggravation.

“I followed the griffon. I overheard him talking to somepony very interesting…” Rye quickly filled her in on the conversation he’d eavesdropped on.

“Tatius is helping the Pit Vipers?” Tyria looked stunned. “But Gryphan ships have been getting hit, too. Why would their government work with the pirates?”

“I think he’s acting on his own. I’m more curious just what he’s smuggling for them. It must come from Grypha, whatever it is.”

Tyria dragged a hoof down her face. “Argh. Argh. Ambassador, please don’t run off again. We’re going back to the embassy, right now. I’ll report this to the City Watch, later, and let them handle it.”

“But—” Rye silenced his own protest. The Watch was no doubt better equipped to investigate than he was. He could think of no good reason to keep it to himself, yet he couldn’t help but feel his chance for a little excitement slipping away. “Very well.”

Tyria, muttering under her breath, led him back through the streets until they reached the embassy at last. She held the door open, and paused awkwardly. “There’s no need to mention today’s little… excursion to Captain Petalbloom, is there?”

Rye cleared his throat. “Ah… no. No, I think not.”

“Thank you.” She bowed her head gratefully. Rye stepped into the embassy and she shut the door behind him.

“Well,” said a familiar voice from beside him. Rye looked to his left to find Wheatie on a seat cushion, leaning back against the wall. “I wondered when you’d get back.” The Firewing had an amused smile. “How was your trip?”

“Mm,” Rye murmured noncommittally. “It was… interesting.”

“I’ll bet.” Wheatie’s eyes crinkled with suppressed laughter. “Did you enjoy your ‘excursion’ with Ensign Metrel?”

“Yes,” said Rye blandly, “she’s been very helpful.” Laugh it up, Sergeant. It’s not my fault she attached herself to me like a bloody remora. Not that he’d minded, really.

Saying nothing, Wheatie grinned and stood, stretching his legs. “Well, I took the liberty of filing an appointment with the Marquis while you were out. She’ll see us Monday afternoon, at four.”

“Ah, excellent.” Rye brightened. “In the meantime, I’ve got something to tell you. Let’s go upstairs.”

As they walked back up to their room, Rye flashed a backward glance at the door. He shook his head and continued on.

Comments

[Cursori]

More people need to read this.

[DSNesmith]

2278985
It's still pretty slow. I'll start adding it to groups when it picks up in a chapter or so. Not too worried, the last one didn't get fifty likes until about 8 months after publication.

[Themaskedferret]

Um...So Rye's kind of a massive entitled prick this entire chapter. Is that intentional? Because I really like Rye but this whole chapter he's such a jerk I really found it distressing if this is how he's going to continue.

[Jomama]

You might want to put an extra chapter on the age of steel and wings to help direct your fans to this story. It's starting to get good now that the plot is surfacing. I always feel bittersweet after I remember that this fic doesn't have nearly enough readers.

Did you have Rye muse over Tyria name after you chose her name, or did you pick so he could muse?

[DSNesmith]

2279146
To be honest, I kinda pulled her name out of nowhere when I was brainstorming. Oh, and in case it's unclear, her last name is pronounced mehTREL.

[Cursori]

2279031
You're probably right, but I still think it's a shame that two of the, in my opinion, best stories on this site have as little publicity as they do. If I had any sort of influence on the readerbase of this site I would promote the hell out of your stories!

Unfortunately I don't, so I'll stick with recommending Rye's adventures to my friends

[TunaKebab]

2279146
The fact that I found this story so long after it started proves your point, which is quite a shame.

[Mr Swanky Hat]

5303492
You say it took you to find this, look at me!