Prologue - The Loss of the Goldshod

Dear Princess Celestia:

I sank back into the firm cushions of the minotaur-sized armchair in contentment, stretching my knees and sighing deeply. It felt amazing to finally be off my hooves. After a long day of paperwork, correspondence, appointments, forums, and more paperwork, I could finally take a moment to myself.

I was looking forward to a slow, relaxing voyage, with nothing to worry about all day but one more social function later tonight. It was being hosted by one of the least pleasant politicians in Minos, though, so it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows.

It pains me greatly to be the first to inform you of such terrible news.

Of course, that got me thinking about the job I still had to do. This might be a pleasure cruise by definition, but that didn’t mean it was going to be easy. Still, I wasn’t about to let this moment be ruined.

If you check with the South harbor in Gomes outside Minos after eight o’clock this evening, local time, you will find that the luxury trireme Goldshod will not have returned to harbor at her scheduled time.

I let my head fall back against the cushion, idly watching the narrow ellipse of yellowing sunlight creep up the wall. Or was it a bulkhead? I don't know, whatever it’s supposed to be called on a boat.

I was purposefully and happily keeping anything of substance from taking the forefront of my mind. To that end, I searched about for something in the cabin to distract me. My cabin was roomy enough, especially to a pony on a luxury ship built for minotaurs, but it only had one circular porthole, currently showing me nothing but featureless, monotonous ocean, below the boring corner of what was no doubt a grand sunset.

Standard procedure, which with a little encouragement you may be able to hasten, is to send small rescue craft to search for the missing ship after the first six hours of no contact.

Focusing on the feeling of being pulled down into the chair by gravity and letting my eyes wander over the furnishings, I wondered for a moment about my host’s taste in decoration. In my career as a diplomat, I had been a guest in similar accommodations too many times to remember, and after a while I had stopped paying much attention to the endless parade of guest rooms. In order to keep my mind occupied by anything mundane, however, I gave this one closer attention.

After seven days from the time of the scheduled docking, when the ship’s registered supplies are due to run out, she will be declared presumed lost with all hands.

When I first moved to Minos and began my arduous affair with local hospitality, I enjoyed examining all the little gadgets and diverting clayspells the rooms were decorated with, often hidden in unexpected places for the guest to find. As I searched this one, though, hoping to recapture some of that youthful curiosity, I was disappointed by what I found, or rather, didn't find.

My host for this excursion was evidently a cheap, unimaginative bastard. I got up from my chair to look harder. Nothing was hidden in the usual spots, and the few prominent decorations were bland commercial products. I had been on a few yachts before, and was used to a little more frugality than what I had come to expect on land, but this was a little excessive in its lack of anything resembling excess. I would have to remember to mention it to Chintz and Elena when I got back. This would make for a couple days’ worth of gossip fuel, at least.

Of course, all of this is irrelevant, since through personal inquiry I was able to confirm this afternoon that the vessel and all hands were in fact lost in some terrible accident, the nature of which I am unaware.

Eventually I decided there was nothing more to be found, and nothing to be gained from further critiquing the decor, so I went back to the chair. I should have brought a book. The light coming from the porthole reached the ceiling, and I decided I had been sitting around long enough. Time to do something else.

According to the very boring heavy clock on the wall (the only thing on that wall, of course), it was still too early to get ready for the party.

Going to the deck to watch the last moments of the sunset sounded fun enough, so I hopped down from the too-big armchair and propelled myself over to the door with a single flap, to give my wings a stretch. Maybe I would fly a couple circles around the ship, if the crew didn’t mind.

Trotting down the hall and up the stairs, I opened the doors to the main deck and walked into a wall of Minoan sea air. I took a deep breath, thinking back to memories of my first arrival in Minos, and smelling it for the first time. It was different from the sea air in Manehattan or anywhere else I had been to in Equestria. The air felt fresher here, saltier. I had talked with Whorl Wind about it once, and he said it had something to do with the Wild magic of the Minoan Sea that made it different from the dead waters around Equestria.

I bring this to your attention because the identity of one of the unfortunate passengers ought to be of interest to you: your ambassador to Minos, a Miss Laurel Wreath.

Out on the deck, I saw a large figure leaning against a rail at the back of the ship, and trotted over to it with a lazy smile. Looking over his shoulder to see who was making the clopping noise, Alonso smiled back.

The harbor authorities will likely hasten their efforts on their own, without your help, when they learn who else was aboard the Goldshod on this excursion, namely the High Elder Alonso Chrontos.

“Feeling cooped up already, Laurel?”

They will want to either recover him or declare confirmation of his death as soon as possible, since his absence presents a major obstacle in administration. The fact that he was your strongest supporter in the High Council might also be relevant.

I just snorted and rolled my eyes at his jab as I reared up to lean on the railing next to him. Over the years, my inability to sit still had become something of an in-joke in forum circles, partly due to one or two disruptions I may have caused during some important debates. I like to think it endeared me somewhat to the friendlier forum sharks. I’m still not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

“Maybe,” I finally admitted with a smile, looking down at the water below. “I’m thinking about flying around a bit so I don’t go completely crazy, but I’m also thinking I should ask permission first. Do you know who would be in charge of that kind of thing?”

“Not really,” Alonso answered, shaking his head. “I’m pretty sure you could ask any of the crew, and they could at least point you in the right direction if they can’t grant you permission themselves. It might be more trouble than it’s worth, though, tracking one down and interrupting whatever he’s doing.”

“What do you mean?” I looked back over the deck for any sign of a uniform. My first impression when I came up from belowdecks had been of an uncrowded deck on a ship underway, but Alonso was right; the deck was empty except for the two of us.

“That’s odd," I commented. "Isn’t it?” I really didn’t know very much about seafaring in general. I had assumed that there were always crew members doing something or other wherever you went on a ship.

Alonso shrugged. “Maybe they’re all in a meeting somewhere. Or maybe they’re short staffed, so the crew has to help prepare for the party.”

“Must be.”

We stood in silence for a bit, watching the sun sink behind the thin line that was the retreating shore. I started to get the feeling he was expecting something, waiting for something. So I took a stab and voiced what was on my mind. “So. . .” I began, breaking the tension and getting his full attention, “do you think anyone would mind, if they were here? You know, if I took a couple laps?”

Alonso smiled again and looked back out at the darkening horizon. “I really don’t know. But I think I’m going to go in and get ready for the party, so if you were to take a ‘couple laps’, I don’t know how anyone would even know.” He gave me a too-friendly smile, then turned and headed briskly back to the double doors leading belowdecks.

I watched him go with a grin, and as soon as the doors closed behind him, I stretched my wings and launched myself into the invigoratingly fresh open air.

No one seems to know what business either the ambassador or the High Elder had on the ship, or who invited them. The meeting appears to have been a secret. The records of who chartered the vessel and even the records of who the owner and crew were are all missing as well. It's really quite impressive work.

I had been flying for a while high above the Goldshod when my blood was frozen by a voice shouting my name from the deck. I looked down in mild guilty panic, but it was only Alonso. Still without his dress toga, I noticed. I nodded and waved to him, then glided down to land in front of him in the middle of the open and still-empty deck.

“What’s up? I’m not late for the party, am I?”

My smile died on my face when I saw the look on Alonso’s.

“Laurel, there is no party.”

He looked scared.

In fact, I was able to confirm that no one but Ambassador Wreath and Elder Chrontos was actually present on board the Goldshod for that doomed voyage, though the harbor authorities will not be able to ascertain as much. I don’t think I need to spell out for you the implications of such news.

The sheer unexpectedness of the answer actually relieved some of my growing anxiety. “What? Did we both get the wrong memo or something?”

Alonso shook his head hard, and I noticed he was breathing heavily. “I went to the ballroom to ask a question, but there was no one there. The party is due to start in fifteen minutes, so I thought there should at least have been some tables set up, but the room was empty! I ran all over the ship; to the engine room, to the bridge, all over. There’s no one else here. It’s just us.”

He stood there, catching his breath and staring at me, and I didn’t know what to think. “But. . . . Really? That can’t be right. They’ve got to be somewhere! Where else would they be if they’re not here?”

Of course, it got better.

“The lifeboats are gone.”

I also don’t need to remind you of the tense political climate in Minos these days, but I will remind you that such an abrupt power vacuum in the High Council has not been seen in seven hundred years.

That gave me pause. “Alonso?” I asked, starting to get really worried. “If the crew is gone, who’s steering the ship?”

“The navigation clayspell steers it wherever we were set to go. We should get back home just fine, even if we're alone here.”

“. . .Can we check?”

In the interest of maintaining friendly relations with Minos, a great deal depends on who is chosen to take Elder Chrontos’s seat on the Council. If I were you, I would prepare a new ambassador now and get him or her here in time to make an impact in the coming election.

Up in the bridge, I had to admit that it really looked like we were alone on this yacht. Neither of us knew how to read a navigation clayspell, let alone how to fix it if something was wrong. As far as Alonso could tell, it seemed to be doing its job, whatever that was. Since we didn’t know where we were going, we set ourselves to finding out just where we were. We both knew the basics of navigation, so we worked together to determine our location and our heading without too much trouble.

We stayed up into the night, charting our course as we followed it. At first we debated what was going on and why, but nothing we came up with really made any sense. Finally, when there was nothing left to say, we fell into a silence, sitting in the bridge, staring at a sea chart. After most of an hour, it seemed Alonso had something he wanted to say.

“Laurel, I don’t think the ship is taking us back to Minos.”

I didn’t reply at first. I had been suspecting the same thing, but I didn’t want to believe it. Hearing that Alonso thought so, too did wonders for my morale. “What makes you say that?” I finally asked, with a weak throat. “Do you know where it's taking us?”

He slowly nodded, and pointed to a swirling circular shape on the map, in a little archipelago. It was labeled in large, thin letters as CHARYBDIS.

“The monster whirlpool. We’ve been heading straight for it for the past two hours or so. I don’t think it would make sense to go this way if we were headed anywhere else.”

I looked up at his face; he was grimacing like he was sick. “Is there anything we can do to change it?”

His frown didn’t tell me anything. “I don’t know. If I knew anything about clayspells I might try to change our destination, but I've never studied sculpting. Even if I did something wrong I suppose we might miss Charybdis, but we might end up in the middle of the ocean and die anyway. Still, I suppose that’s a step up.”

I nodded enthusiastically. “Might as well, right? Give it a try!”

The way things are and will be going here, I estimate that that election will take place in ten days, on Saturday the 29th.

It turned out Alonso knew even less about clayspells than he thought. Either that, or something had been done to our navigation piece to make it tamper-proof. He couldn’t tell without the tools to break it down and rebuild it completely.

Our next attempt was to manually turn the ship, or to sabotage the clayspell’s control of the rudder somehow. Even with Alonso’s immense strength, that proved fruitless as well. We couldn’t manage to break anything or even access anything we could hope to break, and when we tried to push or twist anything to try and change our heading, the little clayspell’s magic worked just as hard to correct our adjustments.

Unfortunately, the fastest ship in your service would take at least fifteen days, and that only if she were already outfitted and waiting to leave.

By the time the sun came up, we were both exhausted, out of ideas, and almost out of hope. The rising sun revealed a set of tall, rocky islands quickly growing taller on the horizon. A quick check told us it couldn’t be anything but the whirlpool's archipelago. When the sun was overhead, we could make out what looked like a bank of fog among the rocks, though we had no illusions as to what it actually was. I took an hour or so to myself in the hopes of getting the sleep that I desperately needed, but I wound up crying in bed instead, and then lying horribly awake until I decided to get up and face what was coming.

Alonso wanted me to try and fly away. We could both tell he didn’t have much heart in the suggestion. The nearest land aside from the rocks was much farther away than I had ever flown in my life, and I wouldn’t be able to bring enough supplies with me to last long enough even if there was a destination in reach. Then he suggested I might rather die of dehydration and exposure on some rock instead of going down with the ship, and I just smiled and laid my hoof on his forearm.

“It doesn’t make any difference to me. There’s no way out of this either way, so I might as well make sure you don’t have to face those last few moments alone.”

Alonso smiled, but he didn't look happy at all. “Thank you, Laurel. I’m glad of that.”

This, of course, presents you with a unique problem: a desperate need for authoritative representation in Minos, and no way to get it there in time.

There was no talk of trying to fly him off the ship with me. I couldn’t hope to carry him fifteen feet on my own, and it didn’t look like we were going to come within fifty of any of the rocks.

I was distracted from calculating distances on the chart when Alonso dropped a creased photograph onto the table. I looked at it, then up at him. He had tears in his eyes, and he wasn’t smiling. He was just crying, as badly as I had been in my cabin earlier.

The picture was of his family. I had met them, once or twice. His wife was very funny, and his kids were great. I figured it was my job in this situation to say something, so I did.

“Remember when Georgio plucked a feather out of my wing at the Council Dinner a couple years ago?”

That got a smile out of him. A blubbering, choking smile, but still a positive sign. I was inwardly a little surprised by his behavior. Like most minotaur bulls I had met, Alonso was the epitome of manly toughness. I had half-believed he had never cried in his life, even as a baby.

He didn’t seem to have anything to say, so I went on. “That was my first time around a minotaur kid. And it was obviously his first time around a pegasus. He told me a few months later that he still had the feather. I had completely forgotten about it, until then. I think that’s the whole reason I remember it now; not because he came up to ask me if I was a pegasus and then grabbed my wing and yanked out a primary, but because you let him keep it. Or he hid it from you somehow. He never told me. And I never asked you. I was afraid that he was hiding it, and that by asking about it I might give him away.” I smirked, getting misty-eyed again myself.

“His mother let him keep it.” Alonso’s voice startled me out of my budding trance. I had almost forgotten he could speak, or that I was doing this to cheer him up. “She used it as a lesson about controlling his strength and treating others with respect. She pinned it to his wall, above his desk.” He took a deep, sobbing breath and raised an eyebrow. “He was supposed to apologize to you the next time, but I’m not too surprised he didn’t. He always thought his friends didn’t count among the ‘others’ we were always talking about treating politely.”

I smiled wholeheartedly at that. “He thought of me as a friend?”

Alonso smiled as well, though he still hadn’t made eye contact with me. He was still looking at the picture currently covering the compass rose. “I think he did. He met a lot of diplomats and politicians at those functions, but there were a few he and the other two would always gravitate to.”

I couldn’t think of anything else to add, until I thought of something of my own I could share. I stood up to leave. “Don’t go anywhere. I want to show you something, too.”

He glanced toward the forward-facing windows, but quickly looked back down at the table. “Don’t take too long. I don’t think we have very much time.”

“I won’t. Don’t worry.” I galloped off the bridge and down the stairs to the guest cabins, keeping my head down while still paying attention to the labels on the doors. I still hadn’t been on the ship long enough to be familiar with it. Before long I reached my cabin door, and I was in such a hurry that I missed my first attempt at grabbing and turning the handle. I fumbled a bit before I got it open, then I rushed inside to my chest.

I unclasped a pocket under the lid and took out a photograph of me and my mother, on our old back porch in Cloudsdale. I couldn’t help but take a little time to smile at it, our wings over each others’ withers and grins on both our faces. I was only a little shorter than her at the time. She never lived to see me become an ambassador for Equestria, but I thought about her whenever I heard the title.

I was so engrossed in my memories that I didn’t notice that the normal bobbing and shifting of the ship had become more of a steady slant. I didn’t notice anything until the heavy, boring clock on the wall, bare of any other adornments, fell on my head, and then I knew nothing at all.

I look forward to seeing how you pull it off, and I greatly look forward to seeing your new ambassador at work.

-Your Best Blue Friend

PART 1 - Posts, Plumage, and Performance

View Online

~ Part 1 Start ~

The rhythmic, echoing, clip-clopping sounds of marching hooves on stone roused me from my stupor. My relief was here. As the two guardsmares rounded the corner, gold armor gleaming in the torchlight against the dark stone wall behind them, it took all of my considerable powers of concentration to keep my face from betraying my excitement. This was always the best part of the worst part of the day. It’s hard to adequately express how insufferable it is, standing still as a statue for four hours every day, so you can understand how I feel when it’s finally over.

Stone face, Lightning. Stone face.

The new guards walked sedately toward my partner and me, who I hadn’t so much as looked at since we relieved the pair before us. Finally they reached us, stopped, and inclined their heads to us. I did the same, and a slight movement in my peripheral vision told me my partner did at the same time, then the four of us did the little circular dance of the changing of the guard.

Oh, my muscles. After four hours of standing stock-still, I had almost forgotten I had any. And I still couldn’t stretch. We were still in “presentation” mode, after all. Being relieved would be nicer if it happened all at once instead of being stretched out like this.

Anyway, my partner and I walked away at the same pace our replacements arrived, and we left them to stand pointlessly in front of the giant locked door for the next four hours. Stone face, eyes ahead. Two hooves in front of the others. This was my life, folks! Eighty percent of the time, at least. Not quite as exciting as the life of a Royal Guard is made out to be, though I guess I should have seen this coming. And not nearly as exciting as my life might have been, but there’s no use in looking backwards, not when I have such an interesting and promising career to look forward to in the Guard!

The long walk back up the ten flights of stairs to get to the ground level of Canterlot Castle didn’t seem as long as it had back when I was first put into rotation, but I think that was mostly because I had timed it once and found out it took about fifteen minutes and twenty seconds, give or take. Before that I could’ve sworn it took at least half an hour.

Technically we were on patrol when going on and off duty, so we were supposed to be attentive and check down side passages we passed. But in the more than eight months I had been stationed here as a castle guard there had been exactly zero incidents, so I wasn’t exactly expecting to find anything. And it wasn’t just me; all the guards I had taken this trip with gave it about as much effort as I did, or less. At least I tried to do my job well. I’d been starting to think they’ve all realized that there’s a limit to how good of a guard you can be. On the other hoof, everyone keeps going on about how amazing the old captain used to be, so I was holding out that it is possible to break the mold. Of course, it might have just been because he was a unicorn.

We finally got to a small side door in a side chamber off the throne room that led to the castle barracks, passing about five ponies on the way. I couldn’t keep myself from hurrying a little as we reached the end of public-accessible space. Off-duty mode, activate.

Oh, it felt good to stretch. My partner and I shared a look, wordlessly empathizing with each other over the ordeal that was the daily post. We kept moving, heading for the supervisor’s office in the awkward silence that comes when you don’t really have anything to say, but feel obligated to start a conversation because you’re finally allowed to speak after four and a half hours. You know how that feels, right?

Luckily for me, she took the jump and spoke first. “Hey, aren’t you that courier? The one I always see delivering things around town?”

The question made me brighten a little, but I quickly hid my little burst of elation and got control of myself. Cool, casual, disinterested. I don’t know who this mare is yet. “No. Not yet, at least. I want to get transferred from post to courier, so I volunteer to take messages whenever I can.” If this mare actually thought I was a courier, I must be doing something right. As a rule, my partners and I hardly ever knew each other. There were just too many guards in the Guard to get the same one twice in less than two months or so.

“Ahhh,” the mare said. “Okay. I was pretty sure that was you, but I was confused, you know, because you were clearly on post with me. That makes sense. What’s your name?”

I gave her a quick look. Earth Pony, white coat and blonde mane, and way more friendly than any guard had business being. So far, not very impressive. “Lightning Dust.”

“Lightning Dust,” she repeated. “I’ll watch out for you. I’m Pirouette.”

“Hey.” Weird name. Dancing talent? Wonder how she ended up in the Guard.

“Not a fan of post, huh?” she asked, smiling at me knowingly.

“Not at all. I’m a flyer. I hate standing still.” I answered, not smiling back.

“So courier.”

“Yeah.”

“Lucky,” she said, looking back at her own lack of wings. “Most I can hope for is a promotion or desk work. I wouldn’t mind being a trainer someday. Teaching is fun.”

I just grunted. We just had to make our report and then I could ditch this mare. She must have sensed something of my mood, because she slipped back into silence.

We finally got to the office and quickly filled out the paperwork for our report. In all my career in this place, I don’t think I’ve ever written a word differently on those sheets. Nothing ever happens in the bowels of the castle, but the Princesses and the captain insist on maintaining a watch at every important-looking door in the whole building.

I hurried from the front desk and out the door, impatient to get to my lunch. Pirouette stopped me outside the doorway for goodbyes. Ugh. “Well, it was great to meet you. Good luck with getting that transfer!”

“See you.” I left her at the door and leapt into the air, flapping my way through the corridor and through the doors of the mess hall.

The hall was built with high ceilings to reduce crowding by letting pegasi get off the floor, which I was very glad of as I loosened up, zipping up to tap the ceiling before gliding back down to where the food was. I had missed breakfast hurrying to get to my post on time, and now I was paying for it. I hate morning post. Actually, I didn't hate it any more than any other slot, but I still hated it. I just hated them all equally, and each one had its own special reasons for loathing it.

I loaded up with as much as they would give me, and took the tray back into the air to look for a place to sit. The mess hall was only about a third full, since most of the Guard were working somewhere at any given time, but that still left me with a whole lot of choices. Luckily, wings are easy to spot, especially from the air. I spotted a table with some pegasi that I recognized and remembered getting along with, so I swooped down to land near it.

“Mind if I sit here?” I asked, walking up on three legs.

The three pegasus guards at the round table looked up at me, then at each other. “Sure,” said the only one I didn’t know, a mare wearing sergeant insignia on her armor and sporting a country-ish accent. She smiled and scooted over on the bench to make room for me.

“Thanks,” I said with a smile, taking the spot, slapping my stupid helmet down on the table and immediately digging in. After I swallowed my first bite, swiveling my ears to get some feeling back into them, I looked up at the two guards I recognized, a mare and a stallion. “I remember you guys,” I commented, gesturing to them. “What were your names again?” They each looked expectantly at the other, as if they were both hoping the other would speak first. I smirked at them.

The mare introduced herself first. “I’m Moonracer.”

“Basalt,” the stallion grunted, putting his attention back on his sandwich.

Really? “Basalt?” I asked, leaning back to double-check that he had wings. “I think I’d remember a name like ‘Basalt.’”

“Yeah?” Basalt asked levelly, with raised eyebrows. The two mares shifted in their seats.

Okay, sensitive subject. Totally understandable, I guess.

The mystery mare who made room for me broke the tension with a smile that seemed a little wider than the mood at the table warranted. “I haven’t officially met you yet. You’re Lightning Dust, right?”

I grinned at her. Not only did she head off that Basalt guy before he could make things worse around here, she was setting up my first impression for a superior almost perfectly. If only she had led with ‘aren’t you that courier?’ like the other girl from before did. “The one and only. I guess you’ve heard of me?”

“Oh, yeah. Your reputation gets around.”

Basalt suddenly buried his muzzle in his sandwich and closed his eyes tightly. I gave him a look out of the corner of my eye that he didn’t see, and then leveled my gaze at the sergeant. “Hey, any talk is better than no talk, right?” She looked away and gave a noncommittal shrug. “What’s your name?”

“Daisy Duke,” she answered with a coy smile. “I hear you’re fishing for a courier assignment.”

I brightened right the heck back up. “That’s right! Do you know if they’re looking for candidates?”

Her smile softened into what a more cynical mare might call ‘patronizing’, and suddenly I felt my respect for this sergeant begin to slide. “You might say so. Apparently there’s one opening and they are looking to fill it, but right now the favorite to get the transfer is Corporal Plumage,” she said, nodding towards a spot over my shoulder.

My blood froze and boiled at the same time, and I snapped my head around to look behind me. Four tables away, sitting alone, was the stupid jerk of a stallion who tricked me into this dead-end job with the Guard, with a generic Royal Guard blue mane and white coat, eating a salad and reading a book.

I twisted back around to face Daisy Duke with wide eyes. “Plume?” I asked in incredulity. “They want Plume as a courier? Instead of me?”

She shrugged, still smiling that stupid smile. “That’s the word coming from the officers’ mess, at least. But that word ain’t often wrong.”

Basalt and Moonracer both snorted. My reputation in the Guard, such as it was, invariably included my hatred of Corporal Plumage, and his more passive-aggressive hatred back at me. I had no delusions about ponies talking about me behind my back, but if there was one guard you could be sure had it worse than I did, it was Fluffy-Feather Plume. The colt was just annoying, but most ponies in the Guard could at least stand him. He even got along pretty well with a couple of them, though not enough to sit with them in the mess, apparently.

But no one seemed to hate him nearly as much as I did. The few times I had had to talk to him after really getting to know him, I had to hold myself back from kicking his smug face in. Plume was arrogant, snobby, contentious, and generally an insufferable know-it-all.

I hated him, and I let him know it. Because of that, and, I strongly suspected, because I had joined the Guard and risen to his rank of Corporal all while he stayed in the same duty rotation, he didn’t hide his feelings toward me either.

I looked back and forth between Daisy Duke’s eyes, looking for some explanation. “But. . . . Why? Why him? I’ve seen him fly; he’s not that good!”

Now apparently it was everyone else’s turn to smirk at me. “Well, he was good enough to beat you, wasn’t he?” Moonracer asked with a nudge to my side.

Jeez, how much talking did these ponies do behind my back? Did everyone know that story? I glared back at her. “Hey. That doesn’t count. Any other day, I could fly circles around him, and he knows it.”

Okay, there might be one more reason I didn’t like the guy.

Moonracer shrugged. “Maybe. But maybe no one told the Courier Division.”

I gave up on conversation and went back to my hayfries, trying to sink all my anger into them as I chewed.

“So you gonna show ‘em?”

I looked back up from my food at Basalt, who was ignoring his sandwich and looking at me expectantly, still with that stupid smirk.

“Who, the Courier Division? They don’t exactly hold tryouts, Rocky.”

Basalt's smile fell away and he rolled his eyes at the nickname that he had probably heard a few hundred times in flight school. “Not officially, no. But their recruiters are always looking out for good fliers. You know that.”

I gave him the look he deserved. “Yeah. Which is kinda why I’ve been doing all these volunteer deliveries. Sounds like you’re suggesting I do what I’m already doing.”

He shook his head. “No, I mean with Plume. Set something up where the two of you can fly side-by-side, so the recruiters can see if you actually live up to all your boasting or not.”

I wasn’t a fan of this guy with the funny name, but I liked this idea of his. Of course, I had already thought of doing something special to show the Courier recruiters what I could do, but the thought of doing anything with Plume voluntarily was one I actively avoided out of principle. But now that someone else had done that part for me, I realized I could appreciate a plan that involved me leaving the Downy Wonder in the dust in front of a bunch of recruiters.

But that still left me with the same problem I had when I was thinking these things up on my own: that I had no idea how to go about it. “Sure, but how? I can’t just challenge him to a race and get the recruiters to watch.”

Basalt just gave a shrug that basically said, “Dunno, not my problem,” and went back to his food, but Moonracer and Daisy Duke were both looking up in thought. Interesting. I had written them off on helping me to find a solution to my problem, but apparently it interested them enough to give it a try.

Daisy Duke looked up at a different corner of the ceiling than she had been examining previously, scrunching up her face a little more. “Well, you could try to get parade duty. It’s a good way to show off your flying skills, but the stupid traditionalist coordinators have only used one or two mares in their shows in the past decade, so good luck with that.”

“Parade duty, huh?” That was another idea I had once entertained, but I gave up on it even before I found out about the weird sexist thing they had going on. Their shows were cool enough, though not nearly Wonderbolt material, but what turned me away was the sort of performance they encouraged. Daisy Duke was wrong; Guard parades weren’t a good place to “show off” at all. They were all about coordinated flying and perfect timing. Nothing they actually did was very impressive, and I could tell just by watching them rehearse that it was just as boring as post duty, only with about four times the effort involved. Not a very good option for showing up Plume, either. They actually punished you for trying harder than the others. “Maybe.” Nope.

Moonracer spoke up. “You know, whatever you end up trying, you’ll have to talk Plume into going along with it to compete with you, and I can’t see him agreeing to that. Maybe you should be looking at the stuff he does to see if there’s anything in his duty rotation you can use.”

Good point. “Yeah, but I don’t know his rotation. I don’t know if you noticed, but I don’t exactly go out of my way to run into the guy. I’d have to get a copy of it somehow.”

We both looked to the sergeant at the table, who raised her eyebrows and held up her hooves. “Don’t look at me. I’m not a part of this. If you want Corporal Plume’s duty rotation, you’ll have to talk to his supervisor. I’m not gonna take the time to get it for you.”

Moonracer, who had been leaning forward a bit, sat back in her seat and relaxed her shoulders as she and Daisy both resumed eating. I pursed my lip at her. Apparently Daisy backing out was all it took to get her out of helping me, too. So much for friends.

We ate in silence for a few more minutes while I tried to come up with a working plan. No luck. I cycled through frustration and on to depression. I could almost say I came to terms with the idea of losing the courier position to Plume, but, of course, that would be ridiculous.

Basalt finished his meal first, and left with only a quick goodbye. The amount of off-duty guards in the hall stayed about the same, as some came and others left. I still had an hour until my next post (two in one day!) and I was hoping to get in a power nap and then maybe a little exercise before then, so I finished my food as quickly as I could. I was just getting up to leave when my attention was stolen.

“Corporal Lightning Dust!”

Woo, that’s always a shock, let me tell you. I whipped around to see who called for me, and saw a lieutenant at the main doors of the mess hall, reading from a sheet of paper. I waited for further instructions, hoping against hope that this was about the courier opening. What he said instead simultaneously stoked that hope and chilled it.

“Corporal Plumage! Report!”

Heads turned to watch the two of us make our way to the lieutenant. Weird, I had never felt this mix of nervousness, excitement, and anger before. I was more worked up over this than I had been about the Wonderbolt Academy, and I didn’t even know what this was about! Maybe that was why. Maybe this competition thing would care of itself. Or more likely, I was just gonna end up doing something unpleasant with Plume. Of all the ponies in the Guard, it just had to be him, didn’t it?

We both got to the stallion at about the same time and stood at attention. “Sir!” we chirped together. Plume was standing as still as I was, but for some reason I got the feeling he was purposefully avoiding looking at me. I might have just been imagining it, but it annoyed me anyway.

“Follow me,” was all the lieutenant said, turning about on two hooves and marching through the open double doors into the main hallway of the barracks, and Plume turned to allow me to go first. When I was sure no one could see, I let my mask slip and rolled my eyes.

To try to get control of my nerves, I placed bets with myself on where we were being taken. (Don’t judge me; when your job is to stand perfectly still for hours on end, you start doing weird things in your head.) I wasn’t entirely sure where they would be taking us if this was for the courier application, but I did know that the location of their office was nowhere near where we were going. Highest odds were on the gym judging by our current route, but I couldn’t think of a good reason for taking us both there.

Then we took a right turn I wasn’t expecting. That only left one possibility, unless we were going to janitorial. I tilted my head to look past the lieutenant, and I could almost feel Plume’s glare of disapproval on the back of my helmet. Chill, dude.

Just as I thought, the lieutenant led us outside to the parade grounds, where a civilian pegasus stallion stood by the flagpoles with the new captain, Fine Line, facing a row of guards of assorted rank standing at ease. The captain was floating some papers up for the civilian to read. Personnel files, judging by the way the two of them looked up to the line of guards from time to time.

“Corporals Lightning Dust and Plumage, sir,” the lieutenant reported to the captain when we reached him, giving a salute. Fine Line nodded to him and then turned to the two of us. “Fall in, Corporals.”

We turned about and marched into place next to the other guards, and waited while the captain talked with the civilian out of our earshot and the lieutenant headed back inside. With the captain himself right there I didn’t dare to even glance to the guards at my side, but I was pretty sure from my earlier cursory glance that they were all pegasi. If I were holding a tryout for a position in the Courier Division, this is probably how I would go about it, but I couldn’t figure out what the captain or this civilian were doing here. As subtly as I could manage, which was extremely subtle, I examined the mystery stallion.

He was. . . slim-ish. Little, really, but that might have been just because he was standing next to Fine Line. The captain was a pillar of a stallion. The pegasus had a pale green coat, a shaggy mane of streaked brown hair (part of how I could tell he wasn’t in the Guard), and watery blue eyes. In contrast to his slighter-than-average build, his jaw seemed disproportionately chiseled, defined further by a line of brownish stubble. Between that and the unkempt mane, he looked like a mess. I guess you could make a point for ruggedly handsome, but I just didn’t go for that sort of thing.

I lost interest in the new guy just in time to see the lieutenant come back out of the barracks leading another pegasus guard. Wow, was that Basalt? It was! The lieutenant presented him to the captain just like he had with us, then Basalt joined us at the left end of the row. This time Fine Line didn’t send the lieutenant away, and he lowered the papers to his side. Then he turned to address us. “Guards! Attention!”

As one, we all straightened up and clicked our hooves together. He went on: “Corporal Updraft, Private Storm Spark, Corporal Windfurl, dismissed.” Huh, didn’t see that coming. Three guards at the other end of the lineup, two stallions and a mare, turned about and marched away back inside. Now I was regretting that I hadn’t counted how many guards there were in the line before taking my place in it. I didn’t really have any clue how many of us were left. The tension was killing me, but luckily the captain had more to say.

"At ease!" We spread our hooves and relaxed a bit. "Here is what will happen. You will all stand by till your name is called by Lieutenant Seaworthy. At that time, you will report to Ambassador Olive Branch for an interview. Afterwards, follow any instructions he gives you. Is that understood?"

In unison, we all replied, "Yes, sir!"

"Good." To Seaworthy he said, "They're all yours, Lieutenant." With that, the captain made his way back inside to deal with whatever business he had, leaving us alone with Lieutenant Seaworthy, as the guy who must have been Ambassador Olive Branch went off on his own to the far corner of the parade grounds.

Well, looked like I was missing out on that nap. Maybe they had someone else lined up to cover my post. Celestia, I hoped so. I wondered how long this little meeting had been set up for. I watched as the lieutenant called up the first guard, a stallion I had never met but had seen doing parade rehearsals. That first interview took all of about two minutes, but it looked like the stallion had been standing at least fifteen to twenty spots away in line when he had been called up, so even if they all ran that short, I was still going to be standing here at ease for a while. Time to zone out. It was really depressing to me that I had learned to pass hours at a time doing absolutely nothing, but it was inevitable in this line of work. The alternative was going crazy.

Have I told you how much I wanted that courier spot?

The parade stallion came back and took his spot in line, sending the next poor fool up for her turn. I spent my time sizing up my competition, estimating the top speeds and minimum turning radii of the other pegasi. Of course you couldn’t tell much just by looking, especially from distances like these, but I like to think I have a sense for this sort of thing. I did have years of practice with it, after all.

Needless to say, the wait felt like an eternity. Not only that, but the worst kind: a measurable eternity. A familiar ache started to creep back into my neck. Dang it, I just stretched that out!

The time finally came for Plume, standing to my right, to go up for his turn. And of course, that triggered my heart rate again, just like when I was called up in the cafeteria. Sheesh. In the old days nothing would have gotten to me like this, but now every little thing was setting me off. I really needed to get out of this line of work. All this standing around was making me lose my edge.

I used all the time Plume gave me to try to calm myself down. Come on, Lightning, control. You’re the best, and there’s no reason to get excited over a stupid interview!

Or scared.

Wow, was it just me, or was Plume taking an especially long time? Was…. Was this ambassador guy actually considering him for… whatever this was about? What was this about? Why would they have an ambassador interview us for a courier position? What else could this be?

No. No more worrying. Whatever’s gonna happen is gonna happen. Heh, it can only go up from here! Nothing worth doing but facing it head-on. Push the limits. Go out and get whatever this guy can give me. Whatever it is he wants from us, I’m gonna be the one to do it.

I took a deep breath and felt my heart rate get back under control, and I allowed myself a small smile as I watched Plume heading my way, with what looked like a spring in his step. Enjoy yourself for now, Plume. You’re not getting this spot.

The smug pest came up to me and nodded, then took his place to my right. I took another breath, and started walking. The ambassador was sitting on a bench by the castle wall, looking down at the papers the captain left with him. As I got close enough for him to hear my hooffalls against the grass, he looked up at me with a friendly smile and motioned for me to take the open spot on the far end of the bench. I sat down and waited with the super-equine patience I had gained in the first week of post for him to say something. His smile grew wider as he shuffled the loose sheets of paper into a neat pile. He was stalling on purpose, wasn’t he?

I nearly flinched at how suddenly he looked me in the eye, the smile frozen on his face. Whatever sense of control I had over the situation was gone. There was no way to hide from those eyes.

“Corporal Lightning Dust?”

It took me a second to realize he was talking to me. I gave my head a shake to clear it. “Yes, sorry. That’s me.”

His smile widened again, and his face crinkled with lines I hadn’t noticed before. “Oh good. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. You have an interesting record.”

I actually blushed. I never blush! “Yes sir.”

The smile never left his face, but he did relax, leaning back into the shade of the castle wall. The sun was so bright out here it was noticeably harder to see him there. “So, Miss Dust, you were suggested to me as a talented flyer. I want to hear about it from your own mouth. What are some of your accomplishments?”

I glanced quickly down at my open file on the bench between us. Hasn't he already read all about me? There’s not really anything else I could tell him that isn’t in my record. “Well, sir, I got my Cutie Mark winning a flight school stormrace, I won the Los Pegasus Junior Flying Competition two years running, and graduated basic training with a special commendation for aerial performance.”

He leaned his head back against the wall and folded his forehooves over his stomach. “Right, I guess I should have phrased that better. I want to know who you are as a flyer; what you’re capable of. There was something in your file about the Wonderbolt Academy. Did you attend it?”

Well, I guess this had to come up sooner or later. “Yes sir.”

“But you didn’t graduate.”

“No, sir.” And here comes the follower. . . .

Nothing.

I blinked at Ambassador Olive Branch, but he was just watching me thoughtfully. I waited some more. Still nothing! Everyone asks why I didn’t make it with the Wonderbolts. Was he really not going to?

Apparently not. The ambassador gave another small smile and tilted his head down to look at his folded hooves. Even looking into the shade with the sun in my eyes, I could see his piercing blue eyes meet mine. “Corporal, how would you describe your talent and ability in flying?”

He asks this instead? Right after that? Jeez, normally I’d have a response ready and waiting before he finished his sentence, but bringing up the Wonderbolts on top of all the rest of this. . . . “Ambassador, sir, flying is what I live for. I don’t feel alive unless I’m in the air, working hard to push my limits.” Wow, where did that come from? I’ve never been this sappy. What’s with this guy?

There was a pause as he nodded to himself and looked back down at his papers. “There’s also a note here about an injury.”

My spine shivered. I didn’t like remembering that. I didn’t even know the Guard kept a record of that; it was before I had even really considered enlisting. “Yes sir.”

“Sounds pretty bad,” he commented, raising his eyes to look me straight in mine again. Something about his expression reminded me of the one time I had made eye contact with Princess Celestia. He had something of the same smug confidence, and gave off the same impression that you were a part of his plan and always would be. I was starting to develop some unpleasant feelings for Ambassador Olive Branch. I don’t like feeling manipulated. “Does it still bother you?”

I shivered again, this time in a surge of anger. Old anger, I had to remind myself. That was an unpleasant time for everypony involved, but it was over. “No sir. I recovered fully before enlisting with the Guard.”

He smiled and nodded again. “That’s great.” He flipped over some papers and found a spot on the bottom page with his hoof. “One more question, Lightning Dust.” I bristled a little. Sheesh, I must be a career guard now if I object to ponies leaving out my rank. “What would you say is the farthest trip you’ve ever flown?”

Oh. Wasn’t expecting that one. I had to think a little. Cross-country flying wasn’t something I had ever seriously tried. Too boring. And the only traveling I had done was when I was too young to fly myself. “. . .Los Pegasus to the Wonderbolt Academy outside of Cloudsdale, I think,” I answered, nodding in confirmation to myself. “I don’t know how far that is, though,” I added.

“That’s fine,” Olive Branch said around a pen he was using his mouth to write with. He finished, set down the pen, and closed the folder with a hoof. “That’s not a bad distance, for an amateur.”

I frowned at him out of habit. That was a word I objected to, no matter the context.

“Alright, Miss Dust, we’re all finished,” he said, shuffling his papers together. “Wait here, please.”

I blinked at him. Was he not going to send me back to fetch the next candidate? Did I make it?

He stopped himself as he was getting off the bench. “Oh, actually, I think the lieutenant might want to do this formally. You should go take your place in the line again.”

I tilted my head as I watched him hop off the bench and start making his way to the flagpoles to speak with the lieutenant, presumably. Huh. Do what, I wonder?

I shook myself and hopped off after him, marching back to my spot between Plume and Basalt. When I turned around to face the flags with the rest of the guards, Lieutenant Seaworthy straightened up. “Atten-tion!”

We followed suit, and I waited with anticipation for good news.

“Corporals Plumage and Lightning Dust, accompany Ambassador Olive Branch for briefing. The rest of you, dismissed!”

No! Both of us? Really?

I barely matched the salute with the others to my sides, only doing so out of habit. My mind was completely elsewhere.

What in the wide world of Equestria did an ambassador want with us? Why were we both being called up for briefing? I didn’t like where this was going one bit.

I numbly followed Plume to wherever we were going, my mind racing over the same track over and over and over again. I noticed changes in our surroundings from time to time: a sudden darkening as we went inside, a transition from stone corridors to paneled walls and carpet, up some stairs. Finally we reached the end of a hallway, and I realized we had reached the captain’s office.

I had actually never been in here before. It wasn’t nearly as grand as I had been expecting. The drapes were deep red velvet and the frames on the paintings on the wall looked like gold, but the office itself was no bigger than any of the others I had been in here in Canterlot Castle.

Captain Fine Line was seated at the large wooden desk, his back to a bay window looking out over the green parade grounds we had just been standing in. I was brought back to reality by the little shock of making eye contact with Plume, who was already sitting in a simple chair in front of the desk. There was an empty one next to it and Plume wasn’t the only one with eyes on me, so I quickly took my seat, blushing just a little bit. I saw Olive Branch seated against the wall, watching me with a smile.

Fine Line straightened in his chair. “Well, if we’re all ready, let’s get started with this briefing. Corporals, Ambassador Olive Branch has picked you to be his escorts as he travels to his new mission in Minos.”

Wha-hu-what? That wasn’t the phrasing I expected for ‘you’re joining the Courier Division!’ Minos? Where even was that? What was that?

I realized the captain was still talking, so I hurriedly refocused on what he was saying. “. . .You are also being reassigned to the Equestrian Embassy in Minos, under the ambassador’s command. You will fill whatever role he chooses to assign to you once you get there. You will carry out the remainder of your respective tours there, and you will retain the standard non-transfer bonus if you elect to stay in the embassy for future tours. Your assignment details are here, along with the standard transfer paperwork.” He slid two identical manila folders to us across his desk, and suddenly I regretted paying attention again. It was at times like this, I reflected as I opened the folder and scanned the contents blankly, that I wished I had been here when the old captain was in charge, before he went off to be a prince or whatever. Everyone says he was great about this stuff. Apparently the new guy was much more of a stickler.

“Ambassador?”

I looked up at the captain's voice, and then followed his gaze to Olive Branch, who apparently had something to say.

“Thank you, Captain. Corporals, it’s up to you if you want to take this assignment or not. It’s a big trip and an even bigger commitment, so if either of you want to back out, I can find someone else.”

Oh dang, he was giving us a choice now? And he caught me off-guard again! Any other time I would go along with it out of personal policy alone, but this time I stopped to really consider the options.

It’s true I would rather be doing almost anything else than stupid post twice a day, but was it worth going off to some weird foreign land for years with Plume? How big were embassies, anyway? Maybe I could avoid him like I did here.

“Sir?” Speak of the devil. I looked to Plume on my right, who had one eyebrow raised in unease. Idiot. Suddenly I knew I wanted to take the assignment, if only because Plume seemed unsure. I did promise myself I would do whatever it was Olive Branch wanted us for, after all. “If I may ask, why do we have to fly there?”

Wait, what?

Olive Branch gave him a wicked smile, like we were all planning a big prank on someone important. “It’s urgent. It’s a special assignment straight from Princess Celestia. We don’t have time to take a ship.” What? We’re going somewhere ships usually go? Hold on a second!

Plume bit his lip, then nodded. “I’ll go.”

Okay, I wasn’t going to be outdone by Showfeather. I just needed to know one thing first. “Um. . . . Exactly how far away is Minos?”

Oh gosh, the smile grew teeth!

Flowers, Fruit Trees, and Fire

View Online

A week. One whole week of flying, all day, every day. Minos was absurdly far away. Apparently it was the home country of the minotaurs. Or maybe it was a city; the way Plume explained it left me just as confused as before. This morning I hadn’t even known minotaurs were real, but now, apparently, they were important enough that Celestia needed an ambassador there yesterday.

In the captain’s office, Plumage had gotten really excited as he read through the mission details. I’ve never gotten excited about anything I had to read, but Plume talked my ear off like I did anyway. He was the one that answered my question about the distance, and when we left the office together, he started geeking out about the ambassador, who was apparently a big deal.

I tuned him out as best I could, figuring I'd regret hitting him to shut him up. The guy just couldn't take a hint. I really wanted to shout at him that I didn't care about anything he was saying.

When we finally split up to go to our own quarters to pack, I remembered almost nothing of our "conversation", just how long the trip was going to take. And the idea of spending all of that week in direct company with Corporal Plumage was starting to wear away at what little enthusiasm I had for this assignment. Fifteen minutes with him and I was ready to eat my helmet crest, and he had only been talking for less than half of that.

But it was too late to reconsider; I made a commitment to myself back in that office, and I wasn’t going to back down from it. That would be like quitting, and quitting was one thing that nopony was ever going to be able to say I did. I just had to make the best of spending a week with the Encyclopedia Plumagia. Ugh.

Maybe Olive Branch would turn out to be actually cool, and I would have a little refuge from Plumage’s incessant, condescending explanations. I didn't have a very good impression of him so far, but sometimes ponies change once you get to know them. Mostly they turn out to be less cool, but occasionally there are exceptions.

Finally blissfully alone, I reached the quarters I shared with Music Box, an Earth Pony mare that I almost never saw because she usually had night posts. So she was understandably surprised to see me enter in the middle of the afternoon, when I would normally be half an hour into my very important standing still in front of a big dusty door somewhere. She sat up from her bed where she had been lying back and idly picking at her guitar, and looked at me with wide eyes and raised eyebrows.

“Lightning! No post this afternoon?”

I smiled and went straight to gathering up my stuff. “Nope. Never again, hopefully. I’m being reassigned.”

Music Box hopped off her bed and trotted over. “What? Where? Did you finally get courier?”

“I wish. You won’t believe the day I’ve had.” I paused, realizing I didn’t know what I was supposed to pack. I shrugged and decided to bring everything. It's not like I have all that much stuff anyway.

“Why? What happened?”

“Well, first of all, I heard in the mess hall that Corporal Plumage was going to take my spot for courier. You know who he is, right?”

Music Box snorted and gave a smirk. “Oh yeah. I know who he is, alright.” I liked Music Box. She and I saw eye to eye on a lot of things.

As I packed, I told her about being taken out to the parade grounds and being interviewed by Olive Branch. She was infatuated with the idea of escorting a handsome ambassador on an urgent mission to an exotic land, much more so than I was. She sympathized with me about being assigned with Plumage, and then she told me a bit of gossip about him that I actually hadn’t heard before. She figured it would help me deal with him when he got difficult, and I agreed with her wholeheartedly. I couldn’t wait to see him squirm when I aired that bit of dirty laundry.

Soon enough I found there was nothing left to do but close the latches on my bags. The room felt smaller, somehow, with half of it empty. It was still noticeably messier now than when I had first moved in, and I smiled as I looked around and tried to remember what each little stain and bit of trash had come from. I had never realized before just how fond I had become of my little space here.

Music Box came up beside me. “So you don’t think you’re coming back?”

I shrugged and sat down on my bunk. “I don’t know. Depends what Minos is like, I guess. I’ll be gone for at least the rest of my tour. But let me tell you, Minos will have to be pretty cruddy if I’d rather come back here after I’m done.”

Music Box sat down gently beside me. “You really hate it here that much, huh?”

I nodded firmly. “I feel. . . stuck here. You know? I feel like I’ve been standing at doors for years now. My whole life was flying, before I came here. I practiced and trained and worked harder than anypony else, and that was all me, pushing myself to be better. In the Guard, I hardly even feel like a pegasus. Basic training was tough, sure, but that was basic training. I’ve hardly been in the air since then. I might as well be an Earth Pony. No offense.”

She narrowed her eyes and smirked at me. Needling her with casual racism was fun. “And you think things will be different in Minos?”

“Who knows? I don’t know what I’ll be doing there yet. Captain said the ambassador would assign us duties. I’ll be spending a week with the guy, so I’m pretty sure he’ll give me a good job.”

“Hm.”

We fell into silence, both staring at my two packed bags on the floor. It was odd, but. . . now that it came down to it, I wasn’t happy about leaving. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything else.

“When are you leaving?” Music Box asked.

“Now. We’re taking an overnight train to Manehattan, then we’ll fly from there straight to Minos.”

“You’ve gotta go now?”

“Yeah, they’re expecting us right back.”

“Then I guess this is goodbye, huh?”

“Guess so.”

I had nothing else to say. Jeez, since when were goodbyes hard?

“Well, it was fun, Lightning Dust.”

“Yeah.” That jolted me out of my little fugue, and I hopped back down and slung the bags over my back. “Well, I’ll see you later. Someday.”

Music Box just smiled and gave me a big, exaggerated wave goodbye. I turned away and left my quarters for the last time.

Settling into my compartment on the train, I felt like I was entering a new world. The ride itself was uneventful, and that night felt like it lasted an hour. The three of us hardly spoke to each other. Olive tried to spark up a conversation, but I valued my last few moments of privacy too much to involve myself. I don’t know if he and Plume talked at all after I left, but I doubt it. Without something inane to talk about, Plumage doesn't last long in one-on-one conversation.

I watched the view from my window more than I slept. The scenery was nice enough, but it was thoughts of what was to come that kept me awake. We went past the infamous Everfree Forest, over and between countless hills, past desolate, jagged mountains, and finally into view of the skyline of Manehattan just as the sun was rising over the ocean.

The train station in Manehattan was one of the most crowded places I had ever seen, but ponies made way for us once they saw our armor. I hadn’t thought about it before, but we were really lucky that Olive Branch knew the way to the city’s Guard barracks. If Plume or I had been on our own, we would’ve gotten lost crossing the street from the station.

The quartermaster had a cart of supplies ready for us, which he hitched up to Plume. We went up to the roof, and Olive Branch started talking with some desk-job guards over a map, so I started my stretches and looked around the city.

The building we were on was one of the tallest I had ever been to, but it was still dwarfed by the ones around it. I had never been to Manehattan before. I hadn't done much traveling at all, but I thought I could tell why some ponies like it so much. Manehattan was so different from anything else I had seen.

Going through my old pre-flight routine after so long put a smile on my face. My legs and wings shifted from pose to pose like the past eight months had never happened, and I had never seen the inside of Canterlot Castle. And I hope I never do again!

Finally, Olive finished what he was doing and stuffed the map somewhere in the supply cart. He turned to face the two of us, Plume hooked up to the cart looking like he wasn’t sure he was supposed to be there, and me just finishing my stretches. “Ready?”

Oh wow, we're really about to start this thing, aren’t we? I jumped to my hooves. I bet my eyes were glowing, I was so excited. “Yes sir!”

Olive Branch gave a little roll of his eyes and turned, spreading his wings. Wow. Not a bad wingspan. Those things are more out of proportion than his chin! “Then let’s go. Follow me!”

And just like that, we were in the air. I stopped myself from flying loops around Plume and his cart, but I couldn't help giving a whoop as we topped a thermal and started our first glide, heading south to follow the coast. An entire week, and we might not even touch the ground once! No more posts, no more stupid mess hall conversations, just us and the sky!

. . .So why were we going so slow?

I was starting to go crazy by the time we left the outer edge of the city. You call this flying? I'm surprised we're not falling out of the air! I wondered how long it would be before I was angry enough to speak up. I wasn’t there yet, but I bet it would be soon.

Another few minutes later, Olive Branch suddenly veered off to head for a good-sized cloud coming up on our left. I followed him, of course, and Plume did, too. We all touched down, and Plume and I watched curiously as our principal started walking around in circles, swiveling his wings. I glanced aside to Plume on my right, who looked about as confused as I was.

“Sir?” I asked. “Shouldn’t we keep moving?” We just left! Please don't tell me we're going to stop every ten minutes.

Olive Branch looked up to me and smiled just like he had back in the captain’s office in Canterlot. “We will. Keep your wings moving. That was just a warm-up.”

Oookay. I wouldn’t have called that a warm-up. A leisurely commute across town maybe, but nothing as relevant to athleticism as a warm-up. But the boss said keep moving, so I swung my wings around at the same time Plume did, though we both refrained from pacing.

After a couple minutes of that, Olive Branch folded his wings and sat down, gesturing for us to do the same. Still pretty confused, I sat down as well, and got a little enjoyment out of watching Plumage struggle to crouch in his harness. He made it to a sitting position soon enough, and Olive Branch spoke up.

“First of all, you guys have permission to speak freely, and that goes for the entire trip. I get really tired of the ‘yes sir, no sir’ thing.”

I just raised an eyebrow. Being casual is great in my book, but it’s not something you can just turn on like that. If you want us to talk, Olive, it won’t be that easy.

“Cool,” Olive Branch said after waiting for one of us to say something. Suddenly I wondered how old Olive was. He sounded almost like a teenager, but he looked old enough to be my dad. “Now, we’re going to spend the next week with no one to talk to but each other, so we’re going to have to get comfy. No offense to you guys, but it’s pretty obvious you’re not fond of each other. Normally I wouldn't mind you being miserable with each other, but I really hate being a third wing, so get over yourselves.” I was almost finished with my assessment of Ambassador Olive Branch. His prospects in my books weren't good. I kept facing him, but out of the corner of my eye I caught Plumage looking my way. He quickly looked back down at his hooves. Yeah, good luck with these wings, Olive.

The ambassador glanced back and forth between us with upturned lips and lidded eyes. “Well, we’ll see how things go. So, you were both recommended as strong flyers, but you both said you don’t have any experience with cross-country flying. I’ve been doing this since before I got my Cutie Mark, and you might say I’m something of an expert. So no matter what you think you know about flying, as of now you know nothing. Distance flying is a whole different animal, so listen close. I’m going to tell you the rules of our flight, and you will follow them. If you don’t, you won’t be able to keep up and I will leave you behind if I have to. Got that?”

I blinked at him. I wondered how far his ‘speak freely’ thing really went. I played it safe and stuck to scowling. Leave me behind if he has to? Oh, he has work to do if he wants to enjoy this trip.

Apparently he took my scowl for what it was, because he turned to me and gave me a taste of his angry eyes. “I’m serious. We have a little more than sixteen hundred miles left to go. That’s two hundred and forty a day, if nothing goes wrong. That longest flight of yours, the one between Los Pegasus and Cloudsdale? That was fifty miles. I get that you’re a big-shot racer and stunt flyer, and that you’ve been mostly grounded for a long time. I know what that’s like. You want to take off at top speed and not stop until you drop out of the sky, and you hate me right now for holding you back even a little. But unless you pace yourself, you’ll get to that drop-out-of-the-sky part before our next stop. Which won’t be for another three hours, by the way.” He paused and turned to Plume, then back to me, looking me dead in the eye like he does. “You really think you can keep up the pace you want to go for three hours straight? And then do it again after a fifteen-minute break? And then twice more this afternoon?”

Okay, I'm done with this guy. “Permission to speak freely, right?”

“Yeah.” Jeez, he didn’t ever blink. I would say there was nothing around us but me and him, but the ever-present feeling of Plumage looking down his snout at me in the corner of my vision was too annoying to ignore. I wondered if Olive Branch would object if I took out my anger by punching that snout.

“I’m not just any hotshot racer, ambassador. I’m the best, because I’ve never backed off when somepony said something was too much or too hard. I’ve never found a limit I couldn't beat, and that's why I'm the best flyer in Equestria. I’m the only one that gets to say what I can and can’t do when I’m in the air! No one else! And especially not the guy who thinks I’m an amateur!”

I wasn’t entirely sure why I was flipping out at him. In Canterlot I never would’ve spoken back to a superior, let alone shouted at one like this. But just the feeling of flying free, after so long on the ground, or indoors, made me feel like I had. . . woken up. Like I had been lying in bed for months and I was finally up, and now it was time to get out and do something. The last thing I wanted was to be told how to fly by the guy who picked me for my flying skill.

The guy in question was still staring at me, but with more of a pitying grimace now than a challenging frown. “Yeah?” he asked, still not blinking. “That’s great. Honestly, it’s a shame that a spirit like yours has been cooped up in the Guard even this long. But you need to understand that when I say you have to go at my pace, it isn’t because I think you’re not good enough to go faster. This isn't a limit you can beat by flying harder and faster, or with more control or precision. I'm saying you need to fly differently. Even the Princesses can't fly forever. For a limit like this, the key is patience and endurance. My pace feels foalish now, but every time we take off, every day you have to wake up and face another day of flying, it’s going to get harder. Each time, until finally it'll be harder than anything else you've done. And I know, because I've seen your record."

At the end of his little speech, I realized he was smiling. I hadn’t noticed the change.

Then, of course, Plume had to open his mouth. “Besides, what were you going to do, fly ahead? It’s not like you know where to go, or have any supplies of your own.”

I imagined myself swelling up, building pressure. I kept my gaze fixed on Olive’s hooves, afraid I might explode if I moved so much as a muscle.

“There aren’t really any other options beside doing whatever the ambassador does. Not to mention, of course, that anything else would be going against orders. Desertion, actually.”

I think I started vibrating. Plume’s tone never changed, staying calm and reflective the whole time. Unaware, and blissfully so. I found myself trying to decide if I had decided to tell him to shut up or not, when Olive saved me.

“Maybe, but luckily it’s a moot point now. I don’t think Miss Dust and I will have any more trouble with this. Do you?”

He was asking me. I took a breath and looked up into his eyes. They were much softer now. Common enemies. . . . “No, sir.” I didn’t like to admit it, but I was really grateful to him for cutting Plume off. It had to be pretty clear just how much I hated him. I searched Olive’s expression, hoping to find some sign that he understood now why I felt the way I did, some shared suffering, but I didn’t find it. What I found instead was pity. Not for my situation, but for me. His smile wasn’t sympathetic, but more like. . . like he was sad that I was angry.

I guess I should’ve been mad at him for looking down on me like that, but I was just confused. A little disappointed, even. Come on, what makes this guy so special that I care so much about his opinion of me? Since I had met him yesterday, he had paired me with the one guard everypony knew I would rather clip my own wings than work with, held me back on my first real flight in most of a year, and then told me how much more he knew about flying than me! By all rights, his approval should be worth about as much as Plume’s. I tried to remind myself of that as he went on with his instructions.

“We fly for four stretches a day, about three hours each. We stop for fifteen minutes between the morning and afternoon stretches, and half an hour between stretches two and three. Our cart has food for nine days, but if all goes well it will only take seven to reach Minos. We switch off pulling the cart every stretch. Lightning Dust has next, then me. I can’t stress how important it is to hold formation. Plumage, you were falling behind before; that’s because you fell out of our draft. Whoever has the cart takes rear position to get the most out of the draft, and the other two alternate taking the front as we’re able.

“If we make extra stops like this one, we keep moving like I did just now. It keeps your circulatory system from shutting down too fast, which would become a real problem by the end of the week. Take advantage of our breaks by staying hydrated. We have covered buckets of water in the cart that we can refill from rainwater as we go. We’ll do that every morning. As guards, I’m guessing you’re used to a rigid sleep schedule. That’s good; we need to be efficient with our time. Any questions?” By now he was positively excited. His eyes were nearly shining.

Plume opened his mouth and raised a hoof.

I distinctly saw Olive look at Plume, but he turned right back to me with a twinkle in his eye. “Ah well, it’ll all make sense as we go. Follow me!”

And so we flew. We flew for most of three hours without stopping. Then we did it again. And again, and again. The last light from the sun was gone before we stopped for the night. Olive wasn’t kidding when he said I’d exhaust myself going any faster. By the end of the first day, I felt more spent than I had in years. And I had six more days of this to look forward to! Yay.

We camped on a lonesome cloud somewhere near Baltimare. The cart had sleeping bags for us, enchanted to keep us warm. According to Plume, they were also meant to keep us from rolling off the edge of the cloud in the middle of the night, but I try to ignore most everything he says. Still, that kept me up late, lying awake and wondering. Wrapped up tight and plummeting from high altitude? Nightmare material, there.

Olive apparently brought along a bunch of big books about Minoan culture and history, and I think he went through two that first night. I don’t think I’ve ever met a faster reader. He tried to show me some of the ‘interesting’ things he found, but my only interest in history is what it says about me.

Plumage ate it up, though. Acted like he already knew half of it. The two of them stayed up chatting until after I fell asleep. I wasn’t sure how Olive could sound so enthusiastic talking to Plume, but my hopes for him turning out to be secretly cool were rapidly falling. Like they got trapped in a sleeping bag and rolled off a cloud in the middle of the night.. Yeah, the fact I fell asleep before they did is saying something.

The next day was brutal. In the morning, while he was going over his maps and junk, Olive must have noticed me groaning and stretching my sore wings, so he gave me some more advice. Apparently I flap too shallowly and too quickly for this long-haul stuff. He said to think of it as ‘perpetuated soaring’ as opposed to simple flying. And I didn’t tell him to perpetuate falling, which I counted as a step forward for our working relationship.

Near the beginning of the second stretch that day, the grass ran out. We came out from behind some lost clouds and found an area where the rolling grasslands we had been flying over since Manehattan abruptly changed to bare, rocky dirt. The ocean was a glimmer to our left, as always, and far to our right there were jagged, unfriendly-looking mountains on the horizon. When we set down on the ground for lunch I asked Olive about it.

“It means we’ve left Equestria,” he said after swallowing his oats. “Welcome to Wilderland.”

“What’s that?” asked Plume, of all ponies. Stop the presses, the Encyclopedia Plumagia is missing an entry!! “I’ve never heard of Wilderland before.”

“The Badlands, the Wild West, there’s all sorts of names for it. Outside of Equestria, the usual name is Wilderland. Fits the best, I think.”

“But what is it?” I asked, curious myself and thinking Olive was just being evasive for kicks. He'd been known to do such things. “Why did the grass stop so suddenly?”

“It’s the world, the natural world. The rest of the world. Not everything can be all flowers and fruit trees like it is back home. This is what the world looks like without Earth Pony magic.”

“Earth Ponies have magic?”

I could tell before the words left my mouth that I had asked a stupid question. Plume’s great at letting you know that, even without saying anything. But even Olive was looking at me in surprise, trying to hide a smile. He answered me before Plume could so much as inhale, something he’d been getting good at. “Of course they do. Did you think they were home sick when the rest of us were given magic powers? You could say theirs is the most important of all. It’s not flashy like unicorn magic or a part of their lifestyle like ours; it’s more subtle. It’s passive. They exercise it just by living. Wherever Earth Ponies put down roots, plant roots eventually come up to meet them. Not literally, of course,” he added with a quick smile and a nod to Plume. I could just imagine Plumage derailing the conversation with corrections about hooves and roots, and trying to make them funny. Thanks for the save, Olive.

“You know all those little Earth Pony towns? Stalliongrad, Ponyville, Baltimare? They were all once as barren and dry as this place,” Olive said, kicking up some of the rocky dust we were sitting on. “Equestria’s always growing, always expanding. New towns are still being settled, places like Dodge Junction, Salt Lick City, and Appleloosa. Right now they’re not much to look at, but within a generation or so they’ll start sprouting grass and flowers and attracting all those little critters that go with them.”

“But why? Why does all that need magic from Earth Ponies?”

Plume butted in, completely unable to contain himself when someone actually wanted something explained. “It’s just like clouds and wind. Well, kinda. It doesn’t happen on its own; it needs magic. Life needs magic. Civilized races like ponies and minotaurs have internal magic to go on that keeps them alive, but plants and animals don’t have any of their own, so they need an outside source. Earth Pony magic and the like suffuses the ground itself, building up over years of exposure. It soaks in, and the rest just happens.”

I knew I shouldn't have opened my mouth. Oh, well. He's already started, so we might as well keep things moving. “So without Earth Pony magic. . . .”

Olive swooped in and finished the sentence before Plume could. Thank you so much! “Life doesn’t happen. Wilderland.”

But Plume still wasn’t done. “Well, except for some pockets of wild magic. And the monsters, of course.”

“Yeah, I guess we can’t forget them, can we?”

My confusion must have shown on my face, because Olive went back to explaining things I only sort-of wanted to know. “Wilderland’s full of monsters. They roam around alone for years, eating whatever they can whenever they can. They’re self-sustained magically like Civilized races are, but they’re not actually Civilized. No one really knows where they come from, or how they survive out here.”

Plume cut in immediately, no doubt eager to share another fun fact. “Some magizoologists hypothesize that all Civilized races started out as monsters. They think that we Civilized each other, or that something or someone Civilized us.”

“Why do you keep saying ‘civilized’ like it’s a thing? Like a. . . verb?”

Olive gave his head a shake and stretched. “It’s part of that theory. ‘Civilized’ is the technical adjective used to describe sapient creatures that form societies, to differentiate them from sea serpents and chimeras and other things that can talk but are still technically ‘monsters’. Those theorists Plume was talking about took that term and ran with it, using it as a verb to describe the act of making something sub-Civil into something Civil. It’s all scientific stuff you’ll never have to remember.”

Didn’t I know it. Seems my mouth was too big for my ears. I don’t know where that sudden bout of curiosity came from. Science to me is like history, though much less likely to get something named after me someday.

I’d learned by sad experience that Plume really doesn’t stop once he’s gotten started, so I figured I had better put an end to this discussion right about now. I jumped to my hooves. “Well, isn’t it time we got going?”

Olive gave a snort. “Are you sure? You haven’t even eaten anything yet.”

Wipe that smirk off your face, Plume.

We followed the coast south for the rest of that day and the next. Wild clouds became more and more scarce, and we took more of our stops on the ground than Olive preferred. He started rationing our water, though we never came close to running low. Those buckets were huge.

That third night, we camped on the ground for the first time since Manehattan. There was no wood for a fire, but our cart did come with some unicorn creation: a crystal orb that Olive smashed on the ground. The shards started glowing with blue light and giving off a good amount of heat. Once that was done, he gave the order I had been dreading since I first heard we were taking this little trip.

“We need to set up a watch rotation,” Olive announced, making me groan. After three days travelling together, I wasn’t afraid of voicing my opinions. “Come on, guys, we need to keep watch in case of monsters. The ground isn’t safe out here. I’ll even go first. Plume, you’re next at about one o’clock, then Dust at four.”

“Yes sir,” Plume promptly responded.

Thanks, Plume. “Yes sir."

It turns out falling asleep to magically imitated firelight is a lot different than falling asleep lying on a cloud. The broken bits of gem didn’t give off constant light, but they didn’t flicker like normal firelight did either. It was more of a random pulse, sometimes gradually shifting in intensity and other times suddenly. Combined with the heat, which I was starting to think pulsed along with the light, it was just as mesmerizing as a real campfire.

I noticed my chin was getting numb from propping my head up to stare into the light, so I rolled over and stared up at the stars instead. Plume was snoring pretty obnoxiously, though I was already getting used to that. Olive was sitting propped up against the cart facing west, tearing through another book about minotaurs. My rolling over caught his attention, and he smiled when he saw my wide-awake eyes.

“Do you want a book?”

I tilted my head back even further to look at him, showing him one highly raised eyebrow.

“I know you’re not the reading-for-fun type, but a good story is just the thing for long nights like this.”

I rolled back over to see him more comfortably, raising my head off the ground. “You have story books? I thought those were all history and stuff.”

“Yes.” I just frowned and waited for whatever trick answer he had in store. He did this a lot. It was starting to really get annoying. “History is all stories. That’s all it is. History books just don’t tell them like story books do. It’s up to you to flesh out the cold hard facts and see the story they tell. A little imagination makes the whole world more interesting.”

I snorted. “Still doesn’t sound like my kind of pastime. Sounds harder and more boring than regular reading.”

Olive scoffed theatrically, holding a hoof to his heart and looking offended. “Did you actually hear what I said? It sounds way more fun than ‘regular reading’! Like this story about the last king of Minos. Listen to this: twelve hundred years ago, a minotaur prince named Gallus led an expedition across the sea and discovered Zebrica. He fell in love with a zebra princess, but when her father found out, he banished her and tried to kill the minotaur explorers. The minotaurs escaped back to Minos, and when Gallus became king he swore he would go back and conquer Zebrica.”

Olive set his book down and waved his hoof over the ocean spread out behind him. “He put together the largest armada the world has ever seen, and made his people into an army. They say his flagship was twice the size of any before or since, and trimmed with Minoan gold. Of course, this was something like fifty years later, so people had been back and forth between the two countries a few more times, and the zebras caught wind of Gallus’s plan before too long. They had long since deposed their old leaders, the ones who banished their own daughters, and were starting to prosper through trade with Equestria, so they asked the Princesses for help, and they agreed.

“You always know a story's good when Alicorns get involved, especially if it's to stop an army. The book says there’s no surviving record of what exactly happened next, but the most popular legend says the Sisters summoned a monstrous tropical storm as Gallus’s fleet sailed for Zebrica, and only the king’s ship was sunk while the rest were turned back. There are still people today who search the ocean for the wreck of Gallus’s Golden Galleon. Now how’s that for a story?”

“History’s messed up.”

“Yeah, no arguing there. But when you think about it, they were real people and that was their lives. They made decisions. Think about that! They had responsibilities, and opinions, and there was lots of stuff they didn’t know; about the world, about other people, other countries; and they just had to do the best with what they had. Just like we do! Someday, people might read about the crazy stuff that happens in the world today and say we were messed up!”

I smirked and rolled onto my back again. “Oh, we are. No question about it.”

Our conversation died out, and I watched the stars, thinking about kings and explorers and history. Olive didn’t go back to his book.

“Lightning Dust?”

I looked up at Olive again; he hadn’t used my full name since yesterday.

“How did you get that injury? The big one?”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Campfire conversations.

Before I answered him, I listened for snoring. Still going strong. “It was Plume. Sorta.”

“Plume? Plume Plume? As in our Corporal Plumage?”

“All of those, yeah. I guess it can’t all be his fault, but he was the reason.”

“What happened?”

I sighed. “I had just gotten booted out of the Wonderbolt Academy over something stupid. I got myself pretty worked up about it. I was in line at a Hayburger in Cloudsdale and there were two guards in front of me in the line. One of them was Plume. They were talking about a Wonderbolts show the other one saw. Plume was talking trash about the Wonderbolts, saying any pegasus in the Guard was more than good enough for any stunt team."

I winced a little. "I was. . . a bit of an emotional mess at the time. I butted in and stood up for ‘my team’. I told him I was a Wonderbolt cadet and that I could fly circles around any guard. His buddy said we should put our bits in our mouths and have a race. I’ve never said no to a race. Now that I’ve gotten to know Plume a little better, I think he must not have been very enthusiastic about it, but at the time he seemed all for it. He's. . . good at hiding behind his mask, you know?

"His guard buddies planned the course. Plume was the best flyer they had and I said some pretty harsh things to their faces, so they really wanted to seem him beat me. I’m pretty sure they rigged things a little. They threw in as many obstacles as they could get their hooves on, trying to make a challenging course, but I’d seen and flown better tracks before I got my Cutie Mark. It took them a week to set it all up. I prepped myself more than I have for anything else, and that was what did it. I pulled a muscle in my wing the day before the race, but I went ahead with it anyway. Stupid excuse to back out at the last second, after all.”

I glanced at my audience. Olive was sitting perfectly still, leaning forward and listening with a frown.

“One of the legs was in an old pine grove. They only grow the trees four feet apart from each other, so we had to slalom between the lower trunks. I went in first, just barely ahead of him. My wing had been holding me back the whole time, but those turns were too much for it. I took one way too wide and bumped a tree, and instead of going around like a normal pony, Plume muscled his way past me and knocked me off course. I hit the next tree dead-on, with my back and that wing, going from forty-five miles an hour or so to a dead stop."

I pulled my sleeping bag up to my chin to stop myself from shivering. "I was unconscious for the next bit, but apparently they caught me before I hit the ground. I’m glad I don’t remember too much of the pain. I had to go to a surface hospital in Canterlot for surgery, and spent five months in recovery. I’m all better now, but when I strain my wing, my back still aches. It’s been aching this whole trip.”

“Sorry, Dust. I didn’t know.”

“That’s not even all,” I continued, not acknowledging his comment. “We had a bet going for the race. If I won, he would quit the Guard and apply to the Wonderbolts, and if he won, I would enlist in the Guard. They called off the bet, of course, but I joined anyway. I didn't win the race, so I wasn’t going to use an injury or anything else as an excuse to back out of what I promised."

I gave a dry, humorless chuckle. "I keep saying ‘they’ because this was all the other guards. After the crash, I didn’t see Plume again until I came to the Canterlot barracks.” I rolled onto my side, finally finding a comfortable spot.

“He still hasn’t told me he's sorry.”

We set out the next morning in record time, even though we all got less sleep than we were used to. We were eager to get off the ground. Olive directed Plume in burying the shards from our “fire,” which had gone out just as the sky began to brighten. Olive strapped himself to the cart, and we took off.

We took an early break at the first wild cloud we found, to refill our buckets. Plume drank tons, apparently having had nothing to drink since the night before. He payed for it after lunch and forced us to make another early stop just for him. We were in empty skies again, so we touched down at the top of some imposingly jagged and broken cliffs overlooking the ocean. Plume peeked over the edge and saw another ledge partway down the cliff face from where we had landed, and he glided down for a minute of alone time.

Olive and I occupied ourselves, him with getting me out of the cart straps so I could go around to the back to get some water, and me with taking off my helmet to rub my scalp. Guard helmets are about the least comfortable wearable thing there is. I wasn’t entirely sure why we were still wearing our full armor. I was just about to ask Olive about it when Plume shot up over the cliff edge like a rocket, eyes wide with panic. Our puzzled looks tracked his path through the air over our heads and inland, until the explanation roared loudly enough to shake our teeth.

We turned back to the cliff and saw three burnt-orange dragon heads ascending from below, trailing incredibly long necks that eventually met at the shoulders of one large body, climbing up over the cliff with massive claws. When the monster was fully on the top with us, it spread two enormous wings and gave another three-toned roar, each head spewing fire into the air.

It was right about then that Olive and I regained our senses, taking off after Plume as fast as we could go. I was a little upset that Olive was keeping pace with me, but that feeling was quickly swept up in the fear for my life as the beast followed us into the air. We flew and flew and flew, catching up to Plume, who had stopped to wait for us when the dragon thing roared the second time. Every panicked look behind us confirmed that it was still in flaming hot pursuit, though I thought it might have been falling behind.

We reached some of the barren, jutting mountains we had seen before from a distance, and one by one we noticed that the monster had stopped. We stopped as well, turning around to watch it. It was just hovering, with huge, long wingstrokes, and looking at us with its three heads. With one great flap, it dived down towards the ground and blew, drawing a colossal line of fire that continued burning on the bare rock. It flapped back up where it had been hovering before, where it gave us a mean look and roared once more before turning around and flying back towards the cliffs.

My heart was thundering and I was very confused about what had just happened, and as I started to notice my more immediate surroundings I realized Olive was laughing. Of course, he was panting just as much as Plume and I were, but something about being chased by a three-headed dragon was definitely making him laugh.

My first impulse was to be angry with him, but I just couldn’t. Instead I laughed along with him. When we had gotten that out of our systems, Olive waved for us to land.

“Well that was fun,” he said once we were on solid ground. He and I shared a smile, and we looked to Plume. Plume wasn’t smiling.

“Fun?” he repeated. “What exactly was fun about that?”

I lost my smile. Olive looked at him like he had said ‘no’ to sneaking out to a party with us. “Everything! You have to enjoy moments like that while they last. Celestia knows the rest of our lives are boring enough. It’s all about the angle,” he added with a wink. “How you look at things. I say it was fun, so it was fun.”

Plume glared at him with the scorn of an angry schoolteacher. “Did you miss the part where we were almost roasted and eaten alive?” I grimaced and looked away. I wasn’t at all ashamed of the laughing—it would be a dark day indeed when Plumage managed to make me feel bad about anything—but it was never fun to be around Plume when he really got angry.

Olive had no idea, though. He was all smiles. “Nope! But I think you might have missed the part where we didn’t!” Olive leaned in close and laid a hoof over the withers of Plume, who was still scowling at him. “Come on. Take a breath, take a moment to realize we made it out alive and unharmed, and think back to find something you can laugh at.”

Plume’s nostrils flared. “Laugh at? You want something to laugh at? How about this, idiot? Our supplies are still back there!” he shouted into Olive’s face, jabbing a hoof in the direction the monster had flown off in. “We’re still four days off from Minos, and we have no food or water. Is that what you’re laughing at?”

Olive held his gaze, his expression pleasant, until Plume’s breathing calmed down. He smiled again and answered his question. “Yes, they are still back there, and we do need them. We’ll get them. But no one ever accomplished anything in a time of need by expressing their anger and passing blame.” Heh. Now that Olive mentioned blame, I remembered that it was entirely Plume’s fault that we had stopped here in the first place. Wait. Did he do that on purpose?

Olive must have been a diplomatic miracle worker after all, because he actually got Corporal Plumage to calm down from a rant! I had never seen that happen before. Usually when he got angry it would take him days to calm down, where he would stalk the corridors of the barracks fuming silently to himself. But now here he was, gazing calmly at the ground in front of his hooves. He took a couple deep breaths, then gave a chuckle and a small smile.

Olive saw it and smiled even wider. “See? Always something worth laughing about!”

Plume smiled wide enough to bring out his dimples. Looking up, he muttered something, then looked back down bashfully.

“What was that?” Olive asked.

Plume looked up again. “I said it really did roar in chords, like the books said.”

I had no idea what that meant, but something about it caught Olive off-guard. “Wait, really?” he asked, dropping his kindly mediator thing completely. “I didn’t notice! That’s fantastic!” He burst into full-bellied laughter again, and after a moment Plume joined in.

I didn’t get it, but I let the two of them enjoy whatever had been funny for a minute or so before bringing them back to reality. “So. . . . How are we supposed to get our stuff back from the dragon?”

“Zmey,” Plume said.

“I’m sorry?” I asked, still pretty low on patience where he was concerned.

Plume looked back and forth between us, apparently unsure if it was safe to speak. “That. . . monster, it’s not a dragon. It’s called a zmey. Exotic cousin, but not actually a dragon.”

Olive stepped closer to him with purpose in his eyes, causing Plume to recoil a little. “How much do you know about it?”

Plume settled back into a comfortable stance before he answered. “Well. . . . They’re obsessively territorial. That last roar sounded like a diminished chord, which means he was chasing us off instead of hunting,” he explained with a growing smile. He pointed to the line of fire still burning at the foot of the mountains. “That line marks the edge of this one’s land. They never leave, not even to chase food. That’s why it stopped following us. It marked the boundary to tell us not to come back.”

Olive stepped back and hesitated, then looked at us as an open smile grew on his face. I started to feel a tiny little fear for my life. “I knew having escorts would come in handy! Plume, you were right about our supplies. We’ll never make it to Minos without them.”

I raised an eyebrow in worry. “So why are you so confident we’ll get it all back?”

Olive returned my look with a smile I was starting to hate. “Because it only came up when Plume went over the edge. If you’re careful, the two of you can sneak back and grab it all without the zmey ever knowing you were there.”

The two of us? Hold on a second. I almost opened my mouth to call him out, but then decided I didn’t want to be the one to demand that the superstar ambassador we were supposed to be protecting with our lives come with us to the lair of a giant, fire-breathing monster.

Plume seemed to be thinking the same thing, but he had another, even better question. “But how do you know it won’t be waiting for us?”

Olive’s answer just made my day. “I don’t,” he said with a smile. “But the only alternative is to go on without our supplies, and die of dehydration and exposure tomorrow night, or get eaten by some other monster.” I shared a look with Plume, something I had done more often in the company of Ambassador Olive Branch than the rest of my time knowing him combined.

“Fair enough,” I said for both of us.

"Sir Lance and the Dragon"

View Online

It looked like the books were right. Well, I guess that shouldn’t come as a surprise, since books aren’t often wrong, but it’s not often that one gets the opportunity to put something they read about in a book to the test out in the real world.

Wilderland really didn’t have any wind. This close to the ocean and with my helmet missing, part of my mind kept expecting to feel a cool breeze through my mane, but there was nothing. The air was still. Stagnant, really. It felt almost like being in a basement, and the thought made me shiver uncomfortably.

Behind me, Lightning Dust and Olive Branch were sitting together and passing the time swapping stories. The plan was to wait until well after dark before moving back into the zmey’s territory, so without our supplies there was nothing else to do but sit around and talk.

I sat watching the sun sink behind the mountains, listening attentively to the other two’s conversation without looking at either of the participants or contributing anything myself. Lightning shared stories about winning races, practicing with friends, and pulling pranks in flight school, and the ambassador talked about his apparently stellar career in cross-country flying before he’d followed his Cutie Mark and become a diplomat.

I couldn’t think of any good stories, myself. Well, actually, I could, and did, but it was never until the other two had moved on to talk about something else and it would be weird to share the story I was thinking of. This happened to me a lot. I tried my best to give it up and just listen or even ignore them, but part of me kept coming up with stupid memories two stories too late.

So what ended up happening was that every five minutes or so, I would catch myself thinking circular thoughts and start paying attention to the conversation again. The hours hadn’t gone by quickly at all.

Right now, the ambassador was telling Lightning Dust about his time with the gryphons. “Have you ever met a gryphon?” he asked. There was a pause wherein I assumed Lightning Dust must have shaken her head. “They’re a bit different than what most ponies are used to. Culturally, they still kind of hold on to their old clan-chief mindset that you can’t be great at anything without also being a skilled warrior or hunter.

“You can still see it today, how all the best business minds in Gryphendom are also athletes in the amateur leagues, and the pros all have high-profile side jobs. It’s usually a safe bet when meeting a gryphon for the first time, no matter what other business you might have with them, that they won’t really care for you or respect you unless they know you can give them a run for their money at some sport or race.” He paused, giving an amused little snort. “I’m pretty sure that’s the only reason Celestia picked me to lead the embassy in High Eyrie, actually.”

I almost spoke up, then. I had never met a gryphon or been to their homelands myself, but I knew a thing or two about them. I wanted to ask the ambassador if he knew about the old traditional blood sports and how Celestia had finally convinced Gryphus the Twelfth to ban them two hundred years ago. Wouldn’t that be a perfect way into the discussion, if neither of them had heard that before? Personal stories might be hard to come up with, but random trivia like that I could spew all day. If only I had gotten into encyclopedia writing or something where a skill like that is useful.

In a perfect world, Lightning Dust would want to hear more, too. I know she would be interested in stories of gryphon gladiators. It really was some fascinating history and I just knew deep down she wanted to know, but somehow I also knew she wouldn’t take as well to hearing it from me.

“Wait,” came Lightning’s voice. “Was your job seriously just to beat gryphons at sports all the time? I thought being an ambassador was boring and hard!”

Dang it, the moment was gone again. Oh, well.

Olive Branch laughed heartily. “Well, it’s boring sometimes, and it’s almost always hard. But I did win some races, sometimes, yeah. It’s a good way to make friends if you know what you’re doing, and that’s what my job really was.”

There’s no way his job was half as easy as he made it sound. I’d read up on Ambassador Olive Branch. I knew all about the deals he had brokered between our nation and Gryphendom, the disputes he had mediated, and all of his work to help the central government in High Eyrie regain some measure of control over their country. By rights, this stallion belonged in history books. Part of me was still giddy about being this close to him, and being along to watch him work miracles in a new country was probably the greatest opportunity of my life so far.

It was almost disappointing, then, that I was getting to know him as a pony over this trip. Putting up with his bad jokes, trying to ignore his worsening body odor, and suffering through his bad decisions all made it so much easier to stop seeing him as the hero of peace and cooperation I had read about and start seeing the flaws and shortcomings of just another pony.

Olive Branch, the pony, was too casual for his own good. He tended to pass up what needed to and should be done for whatever he was in the mood for. If somepony needed to be corrected and their mistake explained to them, he would joke about it instead. Lately he had stopped assigning duties at our stops because he was lost in thought, and we were left to figure out who does what on our own. I was starting to wonder if he was really responsible for all the stuff attributed to him, or if it was all the work of the embassy under him and he got all the credit for it.

In fact, hearing all these stories about his time before he had started working for the crown, I was starting to recognize more and more of his actions for what they were: Olive Branch the solitary athlete coming back out of retirement. His Cutie Mark was a blue and green globe wreathed by long-cut, leafy twigs. I wondered how he had ended up with that instead of something related to racing. If he was really as good of an athlete as he said he was, his talent for diplomacy must have been incredibly important to him to overshadow it.

“Gryphons sound like my kind of people,” said Lightning Dust, a smirk evident in her voice.

Lightning Dust was another easy read. Her Cutie Mark fit her perfectly. She really did have a talent for flying, but also for burning herself out and never sticking around one place for long. She had never really fit in with the Royal Guard, or the Wonderbolts before that. She didn’t make friends. She just settled into the woodwork, wherever she felt comfortable, and swept off to something new when things inevitably went wrong. Like dust.

The way she dedicated herself to her flying had always impressed me, actually. I don’t think I’ve ever been as passionate about anything as she was about flying. But it came with the downside of making her impulsive and brash. I wasn’t exactly a psychologist, but flying was probably a couple places too high on her priority list to be healthy. It had gotten her into trouble before, and she hadn’t changed a thing since then.

And then there was her abrasiveness. Like the gryphons, she didn’t have much patience for ponies who couldn’t keep up with her in the air, or didn’t fit her ideal of ‘coolness’. I really felt sorry for her, whenever I saw ponies avoid her table in the mess hall or hurry away from her after post. I’m not sure whether she noticed how other ponies treated her, or if she even cared. As far as I knew, she didn’t have one close friend back in Canterlot, and if she kept up the same attitude in Minos, she wouldn’t make any there, either.

“Maybe you’ll end up working with them someday,” Olive Branch said. “If you like our work in Minos, maybe you should transfer up to the embassy in High Eyrie after you’re done.”

“Meh, sounds like too much trouble. I hate moving. And I’m not sure how I’d feel about another flight like this one.”

“Well, unless something crazy happens up there like it did here, you should be able to do it the way everyone else does: on a ship.”

Something crazy? Interesting. I knew there was some reason the princess was in such a hurry to get us to Minos, but the briefing packet hadn’t given me any details. Maybe the ambassador was willing to share.

“But that’s slower, right? That’d be. . . what, three weeks? Four?” Apparently Lightning Dust missed that slip, bless her heart.

“From Minos? Yeah, maybe four weeks, but you’d have to take a train from Baltimare or Manehattan to get to the west coast, and then back on a ship to go the rest of the way.”

“Yeah, no. That’s way too long to spend on a boat or a train.”

“Well, you could stop for a break in the middle when you go through Equestria. Take a vacation, maybe visit some family. Do you have any family back in Los Pegasus?”

Lightning Dust’s voice lost a lot of its energy. “Just my grandma. I don’t know if it’s worth my time to visit her, though.”

I perked up my ears; I had never heard Lightning Dust talk about her family before.

Olive Branch must have sensed the change in tone, too, because he lowered his voice to match hers. “Do the two of you get along?”

“I guess so, yeah. But we’re not. . . the closest of family, you know? Not anymore.”

They went quiet long enough to make me uncomfortable, and I almost felt like I could feel two pairs of eyes on the back of my head. Eventually, Olive Branch broke the silence. “Well, I hope the two of you can fix that someday. What about you, Plume?”

I jumped. “What?”

“Do you have any family back home?”

I turned my head to look at the ambassador. He was facing me, but Lightning Dust’s gaze was fixed on the stony hillside to her left, her back to me. “Just. . . . Just my mom, now. My dad was in the Royal Guard, too, but he. . . . He left us a few years ago.”

The way that came out, I wasn’t sure if the ambassador would catch my meaning or misunderstand it. “I’m sorry to hear that. Was he the reason you enlisted?”

I nodded, letting myself smile a little. I finally had a reason to share one of the stories that had come to mind two hours ago! “Yep. When I was little, I used to play with his helmet after he came home from work. I’d pretend I was a knight like Sir Lance from my books, fighting monsters, saving princesses. . . .” My smile faded, and I lost my focus on my surroundings as I was hit by a wave of nostalgia. I hadn’t thought about that helmet and the games I used to play with it for years before today.

Oh wait, there was something I was going to ask him about. Something he’d said. . . . Oh yeah! “Did you say something crazy happened in Minos?”

Lightning Dust looked up with one eyebrow raised. Olive Branch looked confused by my sudden change of topic, but he quickly realized what I was talking about. “Oh. Yeah, I guess I did.” He looked to the darkening southern horizon, which was further shadowed by a bank of wild clouds. “Well, I guess you should know what we’re getting into.”

Lightning Dust raised both eyebrows at him. “‘Getting into’?”

“Sorry, that made it sound scarier than it really is.”

I looked at Lightning Dust uneasily, and she returned the look briefly. “I don’t think that’s very reassuring,” I said. “What’s going on in Minos?”

The ambassador bit his lip and furrowed his brow, as if to say ‘drat.’ “Well, I could have started that better.” Olive Branch sighed and looked back up at us. “Basically, the last ambassador and one of the local officials disappeared a few days ago in a mysterious ‘accident’. My trip to replace her is being rushed so we can get there before the election to replace the official.”

He leaned forward and his expression took a turn for the serious. “Princess Celestia got a tip that someone was behind the accident—someone who has an interest in this election—and that they didn’t want a representative of Celestia’s to be in the picture. So, she thought it prudent to take extreme measures to make sure I was in the picture. My job in Minos is to assess the political situation, do my best to ensure that the results of the election are in Equestria’s favor, and also try to find out who was behind Ambassador Laurel Wreath’s disappearance while avoiding the same fate myself. Any questions?”

Lightning and I stared at him for a moment. Lightning was the first to speak. “You’re going to try to fix an election that somepony wanted you away from so badly they killed the last ambassador?”

The ambassador looked at her like she had missed the point. “No, I’m not going to fix any election! That’s not how Equestria operates.” He gave a disapproving sniff. “But yes, some-body definitely doesn’t want an Equestrian ambassador anywhere near this election. And that means I will likely be in a lot of personal danger the whole time I’m there.”

He suddenly grinned widely. “But that’s why I have such capable guards!” Lightning and I both recoiled from him. He looked back up at the twinkling stars, still smiling. “Speaking of which, I think it’s time!”

I think Lightning Dust was just as shell-shocked as I was as we flew low over the desert toward the cliffs. I didn’t really know, since we didn’t dare say anything out loud and it was getting too dark to get a good look at her face. I knew she liked a little excitement (or a lot), but living with a constant threat to your life probably wasn’t an idea even she could warm up to very quickly.

I shook my head and focused on the task at hand, which was scary enough already. The plan was to hook Lightning up to the cart as quickly and quietly as we could, since she was a stronger flyer than I was. Getting closer to where we first landed at the top of the cliffs, we didn’t see any sign of the zmey, so we went right in to land by the cart.

Or actually, where the cart should have been. It was gone. Lightning Dust was mouthing a question at me, but it was too dark for me to make out what she was saying. I ignored her and crouched down to look at the dirt. There weren’t any marks in the dust apart from the two imprints where the cart had sat, which confirmed what I was most worried about. I raised my head and a hoof to motion Lightning closer, but stopped short because she was already in my face.

“Listen to me when I’m talking to you!” she hissed under her breath.

“Not now,” I whispered, making her pull back and glare at me. I ignored that as well and pointed to the dust. “The cart was lifted straight off the ground.”

She let out a breath and looked around at the ground under her, then looked back up at me, biting her lip. “The dragon?”

“Zmey!” I corrected.

“Shut up. Where do you think it took it?”

I took a deep breath. “Down to its cave,” I answered, pointing a hoof to the cliff.

Lightning’s face went through an interesting mix of reactions. It was clear she had a lot of anger, and she didn’t seem decided on who or what to direct it at. Eventually she sat down, put her hooves against her head, and took a deep breath. “Oh, man. We have to go get it, don’t we?” she asked, a bit louder than she probably should have.

I rubbed my neck. I didn’t see any other way of living long enough to get to civilization. I nodded. Lightning bit her lip and looked to the cliffs. Standing up, she looked at me and nodded firmly back. Let’s go.

We took off together, trying our best not to make any noise. We had to fly slowly, because once we were in the air, the sound of our flapping was the only noise we had to worry about. We glided over the cliff and circled our way down between the tall, broken rocks jutting up out of the crashing waves, and Lightning Dust led the way in landing softly on the ledge where I had first encountered the zmey, where she looked at me expectantly. It was too dark for her to see it, but I expected I would always remember the spot where I had been startled from my business by six glowing, yellow eyes.

I took a deep breath, and then another one, as I stepped as quietly as I could past Lightning Dust and toward the shadowy cave entrance. As the light from the crescent moon was blocked out by rock above me, I slowed my movements as much as I possibly could, praying my eyes would adjust and let me see what was ahead of me.

I heard Lightning Dust’s soft breathing behind me, and a deeper, longer sound in front of me that made me want to whimper in fright. I stopped to compose myself. I was a grown stallion, and fear alone wasn’t about to make me give up.

I tried focusing my eyes in the darkness. Shifting my head back and forth, I realized that made a difference in what little my eyes could tell me. I could see shapes!

As soon as I was sure there was nothing immediately in front of me, I continued onward, with Lightning Dust close behind. I imagine my white coat and golden armor right in front of her was the only thing she could see.

Gaining confidence, I scanned the darkness around me with the sort of attention to detail I reserved for finding lost puzzle pieces, or preening my big, annoyingly fluffy feathers before an inspection. There were several tall, narrow smudges that I was pretty sure were stalagmites, and smaller ones scattered around the floor that I attributed to rocks. I kept my eyes peeled for cart-sized blobs of shadow, and for giant moving ones. The sound of monstrous breathing was echoing around the whole cave, but turning my head, I was fairly certain where the source was.

Unfortunately, I stepped right into a wall, and another one close to my left meant that the direction of the breathing was our only option.

I glanced back at Lightning Dust, who was craning her neck to look in all directions. Judging by how visible she was, with her bright colors, I had an idea of what the light-brown cart might look like, and I surveyed the cave again as I went forward.

The breathing was getting louder, and I started searching for movement in exclusion of all else. I did not want to stumble into a sleeping zmey while looking for the cart.

. . .Which meant I stumbled into the cart while looking for the zmey. I had to fight down several different immediate reactions, the first being pain, so as not to wake the sleeping monster. After calming myself down and rubbing the ache out of my knee, I turned to signal Lightning Dust what I had found. Her eyes—by far the most visible things in the cavern—widened and she hurried forward to help me find the harness.

We found it easily enough, but putting it on in the dark without making noise proved to be a different challenge. Our hooves fumbled with the straps, bumping into each other and accomplishing nothing. We tried in futility for what must have been five minutes, our frustration growing, until I decided to try something else. I held Lightning Dust’s hoof until she stilled, then I stood up from where I had been sitting and started rummaging through the supplies in the cart as quietly as I could.

Before long, I found what I was looking for: another one of Olive Branch’s fireshard orbs. Moving extremely slowly so as not to drop it, I brought it down to the ground and carefully scraped it against a rock. The miniscule scratch gave off a gentle, pulsing light that was only barely visible, but would make our job infinitely easier.

The light illuminated Lightning Dust’s nervous expression as she listened for the continued breathing of the zmey, which went on undisturbed. Smiling and cheering inwardly, I set the orb on top of the cart, angling the luminescent scratch down onto the harness, and we set about strapping Lightning Dust in.

Once we had finished, I stood up on my hind legs again to stow the orb away, but froze in place as I saw a gleam in the darkness. I waited, watching for any sign of movement, thinking of large zmey eyes watching us from the shadows. Lightning Dust turned her head to look at me, in concern or impatience I didn’t know, but I warned her as best I could with my expression.

Nothing happened, and the sound of breathing continued as steady as ever, so I dared to shine the orb around to see what had startled me. Lifting the orb high and squinting to make out what it was, the adrenaline still pumping through my heart was washed away by relief. Sitting discarded in a corner were our Guard helmets.

As I had told my companions earlier that day, zmeys were only distantly related to dragons. They didn’t hoard treasure and they didn’t eat gemstones. They would steal food like what was packed away in our supplies, as well as animals and even ponies whenever they could, but anything they couldn’t eat was either ignored or discarded as trash. As similar as they might be physically (as long as you didn’t count two extra heads as a significant difference), zmeys were considered to be less intelligent than dragons, and they didn’t care for any possessions they couldn’t eat.

Smiling from ear to ear, I set the orb down, shining its dim light towards the corner where the helmets sat. With a deep breath, I lifted myself into the air, thanking the Creator for my fluffy, quiet wings. I looked down to Lightning Dust, who was looking at me with a frantic expression, too frightened of making a sound to say anything.

I simply pointed to the helmets, trying my best to look reassuring. Not wanting to risk disaster by wasting anymore time, I glided as best I could under the low ceiling and hovered above my prizes. Sweat dropping off my nose almost made me bolt, but I managed to lower myself, gently, until. . . .

Something squeaked. I whirled around with ice in my veins, and saw Lightning Dust frozen in mid-step. The wheel! The two of us waited with our hearts thumping, but besides the nearly silent whoosh of my wings keeping me in the air, there was nothing.

Wait. . . . There was nothing. . . .

My eyes widened again. The breathing! Reluctantly, I turned my head to the back of the cave, where I thought I could see something moving.

Not waiting to see any more, I waved frantically for Lightning to take off and scooped up the helmets with a clatter. Then I was gone.

I heard a sharp inhalation behind me, then a blinding flash of yellow light showed me I was about to hit a wall. I backpedaled my wings to stop myself, and a blastwave of hot air caught up with me. I thought of Lightning Dust stuck to the cart and turned around to look for her.

I flinched as a streak of gold and teal shot past me, pulling a large brown weight. Blinking to get my bearings again, I saw what she was running from. Lying on the floor with its three heads raised in surprise, lit from below in orange by a line of burning stone, was the zmey.

Its six yellow eyes converged on me—still hovering in the air by the far wall—and narrowed as the beast roared a minor seventh.

My blood chilled and I finally indulged a whimper, but I had the sense to leave. There was now more than enough light to see by, and each roar behind me was punctuated by a new wave of heat pushing me forward.

I would say I flew faster than I ever had before, but in reality I probably forgot all technique in my panic and flew on instinct alone. After what felt like five minutes but was in all likelihood five seconds, I left the heat of the cave and was enveloped by the cooler night air over the sea. Lightning Dust and the supply cart were above me, just clearing the edge of the cliff.

I looked back down and swerved to avoid hitting a spire of rock. I spiraled around it to gain altitude, struggling against the falling cold air, and a new roar from the cliff made me fumble one of the helmets still clutched in my forehooves. A wave of panic went through my heart as I dove after it, followed by relief as I caught it.

Then my tail caught fire, and I suddenly had a wonderful column of rising hot air to help me up and away from the monster about to roast me.

I flew up and over the cliff, then as fast as I could manage I flapped toward the mountains. Under the light of the stars and the waxing moon, I could still make out a long line on the ground still glowing a faint orange in the distance. I could see Lightning Dust ahead of me, flying in the same direction. A dot of orange and teal appeared above the brownish splotch that was the cart, as she lifted her head and her hoof to wave to me frantically.

The zmey close behind me kept roaring, sounding desperate. I could still feel the fire it was spewing at me, and I started to feel an ache in the joint of my left wing, which had always been my weaker one.

The embers on the ground crept closer and closer, and up ahead the figure of Lightning Dust met another shape in the air, a green one, and flew on. Olive Branch waved to me, and I muscled through my growing pain, trying to ignore the roars and the heat and focus on moving my wings.

I closed my eyes and hugged the two helmets closer to my barrel. They had been ice cold when I picked them up, but they were starting to warm up where they met my coat. Both of my wings felt like they were eating themselves, and they were starting to chafe against the armor on my back with every stroke.

“Come on, Plume! Keep going! Don’t stop!”

I pulled my eyes open and saw the blurry figure of Olive Branch flying backwards ahead of me, still waving his hooves.

“Nearly there! Nearly there!”

I let my eyelids slide back down, and I pushed against the air again and again and again and again, stretching my hooves forward, too terrified of giving up to stop.

I heard the heavy flapping of pegasus wings to my right, and felt a strong, steady hoof over my withers, taking some of my weight and momentum. I relaxed at the touch, giving up my welfare to whoever had come to help me.

My grip on the helmet under my right foreleg slackened, and it slipped out. I made a halfhearted attempt to catch it, and felt my savior squirm and drop a bit before picking me back up.

I heard a different roar than the rest, farther away and a little sad.

I sank in relief, hanging from the hooves that held me.

“Oh jeez, did you have to carry him all the way here?”

I sighed as my unconscious restored control of my body back to my mind. All feelings of relaxation were dismissed as I was unceremoniously dropped onto hard rock. I grunted as I landed on a large metal object I had in a deathgrip, and opened my eyes.
The ambassador was trotting past me on my right, snorting and rolling his eyes at me. Lightning Dust, still strapped in to the supply cart we had gone to so much trouble to recover, was looking down at me like I was some nasty dish Olive Branch expected her to eat.

“What was that all about, Plume?” she asked. “Couldn’t manage the same flight twice in one day?”

I closed my eyes again. I didn’t know what had happened to me. Sure, I was tired after two panic-induced flights from a pony-eating monster, but Lightning Dust had done the same thing with no problem, even pulling a cart the second time. It wasn’t the most strenuous thing I had ever done, not by far.

“You weren’t the one with a burning tail, Dust,” Olive Branch joked. “Don’t judge.”

Groaning again, I got to my hooves and shook my head, stretching out my sore wings. The jingling of brass strap buckles made me open my eyes again. The ambassador was releasing Lightning Dust from the harness.

“What’s the plan now, boss?” Lightning asked, looking in mild confusion at his hooves working under her wing.

“Take a look,” Olive Branch answered, nodding to the southern sky and going back to the buckles.

Lightning Dust and I looked up. What had been a distant bank of wild clouds earlier was now clearly a supercell: a mountain of dark clouds rolling toward us.

Olive Branch finished unstrapping the corporal and set the arms of the cart on the ground for her to step out. “We’ve lost a lot of time today, but we’re not making any of it up through that mess. There’s a cave I found up the slope from us a ways. We can stay there until it blows over.”

I looked at our surroundings for the first time since landing. We were back on the foothills of the jagged mountains, though not on the same rock Lightning Dust and I had left from. Down in the plain below us, making me do a double take, was a sprawling, criss-crossing pattern of fire where the single line had once been. Apparently the zmey had taken out its frustration on the countryside.

Olive Branch and Lightning Dust had each picked up an arm of the cart in their hooves, and were taking off to fly it up to our shelter. Looking down, I spotted the two helmets I had risked my tail (lost most of it, actually) to get, one by my hooves and the other lying behind me. I picked them up and hurried after my companions.

Thunder rolled outside our shallow cave. There wasn’t quite enough room in our “shelter” to avoid getting hit by the spray from the heavy rainfall blowing in, so we were all fairly wet even with our backs against the far wall. The shards of the orb I had scratched earlier were keeping us warm, at least.

“You know what I don’t get?” Lightning Dust asked as she rolled out her sleeping bag. Olive Branch had set me to first watch, saying I had gotten a nap already and didn’t need the extra sleep. “Where did a storm like this come from? I understand a stray cloud or two, but a whole thunderhead? Those don’t just happen; they take weeks of effort from dozens of pegasi.”

Neither Olive nor I had an answer for her. There were clearly no pegasi moving this storm, but move it did. Olive Branch went right to bed, Lightning Dust following him without another word. I spent my turn watching the storm arrive and put out the zmey’s fires, with a rather impressive hiss and cloud of steam, over the course of a half hour.

After staying up so late already, there was only enough time left in the night for two watches, and Lightning Dust was up next after me. I woke her when the little clock in the cart told me to, but I couldn’t fall asleep after that.

I tossed and turned for what felt like hours, trying to get comfortable bent up against the wall of the cave and trying to ignore how damp the foot of my sleeping bag was getting. When the clouds outside started to lighten, I gave up.

I hung my sleeping bag on the side of the cart to dry as best it could, and I sat down to examine my helmet, Lightning Dust watching me curiously. It had certainly been through a lot. The outside was covered with new scratches and dents, and the poor crest—made with hair cut from my own mane back in basic training—was creased and fraying and falling apart.

I pouted at the thing for a moment, then set about restoring it. I had an armor-polishing kit in my supplies, and with the time I had before dawn and enough effort, I was pretty sure I could make some improvement to the helmet’s condition.

Lightning Dust watched me for a minute or two, then rolled her eyes and turned her attention back out to the rain. I glanced up at her, then over to her helmet sitting against the wheel of the cart where I had put it earlier. Hers looked to be in even worse shape than mine had been, with some nasty gouges where it had slid across rock.

I finished polishing and did what I could for the crest, but I wasn’t going to be able to make it like new. Still, maybe it was good to have some scars on the helmet, to be reminders of all it had gone through.

I glanced at Lightning Dust again, trying to work up the nerve to speak. Maybe it was the multiple near-death experiences I had had that day, but after a few minutes of inner struggle, something small and selfish in me gave up and I spoke, not worrying about the consequences. “I could clean yours too, if you want.”

Lightning Dust glanced toward me, but her gaze didn’t reach my actual person. She huffed. “If you want, I guess.”

I waited for a moment, then shrugged and pulled her helmet over and set to work.

Now that we had both spoken, the silence felt more awkward than it had before. The tension built to the point of being uncomfortable, then Lightning Dust spoke up again. “I don’t know why you didn’t leave the stupid things there when you had the chance.”

I looked up from my work to see her smirking at the same far-off point she’d been looking at the last time she’d talked to me. I furrowed my eyebrows, not sure what to make of that. Was it a joke? A serious question? I took the easy choice and said nothing.

She chuckled. “I was actually kinda excited to have an excuse to get rid of it, myself. I can’t believe we’ve had to wear them this whole trip. Can you?”

This time she did look at me, but I didn’t turn my head to her. Instead, I just shifted my eyes toward her, a deep frown on my face. If she was trying to joke around with me, I didn’t feel comfortable joining in. I never did, when guards complained. I hated the feeling of making fun of something you believe in. Every pony in the Guard, at some point, had felt a sense of duty and responsibility in the job. That’s why most of them joined in the first place, and I knew that because I could still remember what they had all been like, back when they were fresh recruits. There had been no complaining then. Well, okay, there had been a little, but you could tell in their eyes that they weren’t really bothered. They joined up for a reason, and that was still important to them, then. But later, with a few years or even just months under their belts, nearly every one of them lost that look. When they complained, no matter how hard they actually worked or how bad the conditions actually were, you could see in their eyes that they really were bothered. When they complained, they meant it.

And I hated that.

Lightning Dust was rolling her eyes, likely giving up on getting a response from me. The past Corporal Plumage—the one from this afternoon who never said anything because it wasn’t a good time—would have left it at that and gone back to work in silence. But I wasn’t the same pony that I had been. Something small and pitiful had died or been scared off, and I didn’t have anything to hold me back anymore.

“I couldn’t leave my helmet behind,” I said, getting her attention again. I snorted, realizing that I had opened my mouth without having a good idea of what to say. “I. . . . I guess it’s just important to me.”

I could tell that Lightning Dust was fighting back a patronizing remark, but she kept quiet.

“You remember what I said about my dad’s helmet? Pretending to be Sir Lance?” She gave a soft nod. I smiled. “I used to want to be just like my dad, when I was little. When I grew up a bit I wanted to be nothing like him. I thought he still saw me as a little colt playing pretend, and a big part of why I joined the Guard was to prove that I was a. . . . An adult. My own stallion.

“I had never done anything like that on my own before, and when they shaved my mane and gave me a helmet of my very own, just like my dad’s, I. . . .” I didn’t have any words to say what that felt like.

Lightning Dust did. “You felt a little overwhelmed. Like now that you were there, you were a little punch-drunk and weren’t sure if you were actually ready for what you had gotten yourself into. You still felt like a foal among grown ponies, no matter how you looked to the rest of the world.”

I nodded. “I didn’t think all that at the time. I tried not to think about it much then. But I’ve always loved my helmet, and I always felt a little. . . thrill of pride whenever I put it on, or saw it on me in the mirror.

“And when I saw it in that cave, that’s when all that hit me. Maybe I was a little overconfident that I wouldn’t wake up the zmey, but right then I was willing to risk my life to get it back.”

The rain was getting weaker, and the light from outside was starting to overpower the light from our fireshards. I thought about what Lightning Dust had said. I had never expected to hear anything like that out of her, and I wondered when she had felt like that. I thought about letting the conversation end, but then I remembered that I could speak my mind now.

“So. . . . Where did that come from?” I asked with a teasing smile. “Seems a little sappy for Lightning ‘Trouble’ Dust.”

She shook her head and rolled her eyes, but thankfully she didn’t laugh it off. “That’s kinda how I felt the first time I put on a Wonderbolts uniform. But you know how that went.”

I winced a little. Whatever my personal feelings about the Wonderbolts, I knew how important they had been to Lightning Dust, and I could imagine how that must have felt, what happened to her. I could hardly imagine what it would be like for a dream of mine to go that way. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was such a jerk to you back then, too.”

Lightning froze for a moment, and we fell into a more comfortable silence. After a minute or so, she reached over and took her helmet and the polishing cloth out of my hooves. She settled back into her corner, scrubbing away at the scuffs with a little smile on her face. I leaned back as well and watched the storm move off. A haunting cry like a ghostly eagle’s perked our ears up, and we both poked our heads out to look into the sky as the drizzle came to an end. At the crown of the thunderhead, with wings like static thunderbolts and a long tail that trailed off like a strafe of cirrus, a titanic god of a bird was flying away to the north, the storm following it like a massive shadow.

“Thunderbird,” I whispered.

We watched it go for a few more minutes as the sun peeked over the distant ocean, then Lightning Dust gave me a smile and went back to her polishing. I stood up to start our breakfast, and as I turned to the cart I could have sworn I saw Olive Branch smile as he rolled over in his sleeping bag.

"Seagull's Voyage Around the World"

View Online

“Ah! There it is!”

Olive’s excited cry startled me out of the trance I had fallen into after nearly six hours of flying, staring down at the monotonous cracked desert speeding by below. The only change in our surroundings in the past two days had been half an hour before today’s first break, when the ocean far to our left parted ways with us, and was now hardly a line of silver on the horizon.

It took me a moment to register what Olive had said. I cocked my head to my right to see him pointing a hoof ahead, his head and ears held high and a wide-eyed smile on his face.

Minos? My own ears perked up as I caught his excitement, and I eagerly looked ahead to see our destination. But after a moment of searching, I lowered my ears in confusion. I don’t see anything.

“Where?” Lightning asked to my left. I glanced over to see her shading her eyes with a hoof and squinting against the sunlight.

“Where do you think? Where the clouds are at!” Olive answered, jabbing his hoof forward.

I frowned. There were some clouds in the distance ahead, but I didn’t see anything that looked like a city. Minos wasn’t a cloud city, was it?

The clouds grew closer and we stayed silent, following Olive as he hastened his pace, the harness of the supply cart chafing against my barrel as it always did. I still saw nothing but desert earth, cracked and parched and split by an occasional rift or penetrated by a boulder. We were close enough now to see the ground underneath the clouds, which now that I looked closer, seemed to be much more cohesive than the average wild clouds we came across in our flight. They were solid enough to cast a real shadow on the broken ground below.

Actually, they cast too real of a shadow. There were four or five distinct and separate clouds, but the unlit portion of the landscape below was one big shape, bigger than the clouds themselves. A circle…

“I see it!” I shouted, jabbing my own hoof and making Lightning Dust snap her head back up. I found my tail twitching and my hooves quivering as I began to see more and more details.

There was a city under the clouds, but it didn’t have a skyline like I had been expecting. In fact, none of it rose higher than the surrounding desert, because Minos was dug into the earth.

The outer edges of the city were raised slightly and sloped gently away, while inside the roofs of buildings together made a shallow bowl, giving the whole city the look of a crater. Now I could see thin roads hardly distinguishable from the cracked earth, trailing out of tunnels and leading off to who-knows-where.

I heard Lightning’s excited cries beside me as she finally saw it, but I could only pay attention to the bizarre city quickly growing closer. The buildings towards the city’s outer edge were mostly flat-topped, while the center was dotted with spires and domes. I couldn’t see any streets, but the breaks between rooftops seemed to radiate from a large dome in the center like a spiderweb.

Olive spoke as he led us into a spiraling descent. “Welcome to Minos, boys and girls. Capital city and ancestral home of the Minotaurs.”

I was at a loss for words as we approached one of the tunnels on the outside slopes on the north side, and came down softly on the roads. I hardly noticed the buzzing in my wings or the sticky, hot straps against my coat. We were finally here! No more flying, no more night watches, no more sleeping bags, no more rations! We were done.

Part of me knew that we still had work to do, but it was remarkably easy to ignore that part as together we trotted down the road cut into the hill to a large iron gate set into the earth, patterned with a large symbol like a broken X imposed on a circle.

I couldn’t help gaping as I saw Minotaurs for the first time in my life, two of them standing guard in front of the gate. They stood over twice the height of a pony, on two bowed legs that didn’t look big enough to support their massive shoulders and arms, which they held folded across their armored chests. Square iron clubs hung from both their belts and they wore crimson headclothes like little curtains behind their ears, and they watched us approach without moving. I suddenly felt oddly self-conscious of our own shining golden armor.

I could almost feel Lightning gritting her teeth beside me, but Olive just trotted forward with a friendly smile, until he was close enough that I started seeing visions of him getting knocked into the air by one of those clubs, then he stopped and stood silently until one of the guards spoke.

“State your business.”

“Ambassador Olive Branch and escort, arrived from Canterlot and heading to the Equestrian Embassy. We should be expected.”

The two minotaurs glanced at each other, then the same one as before spoke to us. “Wait here.”

He took his club from his belt and turned to give the gate behind him two taps that rang sharply through the open tunnel. A moment passed in uncomfortable silence, then a small door I hadn’t noticed in the gate cracked open and a third minotaur poked his head out to have a hushed conversation with the guard who had knocked and spoken with us. The door closed again and the guard turned back to face us.

“Your arrival has been awaited. The embassy is located on the far side of the city, at S-Two and Loun. You may enter.”

There was no more warning before the heavy metal gates slowly swung open, making no noise despite there being no visible space between them and the ground, or the ceiling. The guards stepped aside without another word, and Olive glanced back at Lightning Dust and me, giving us a quick smile and a flash of his eyes before leading us into the city.

The noonday sun was high and bright overhead as we left the entrance tunnel and came out onto a large city street. I almost tripped over my hooves as I took in the scene that appeared before me.

The buildings on either side of us were three stories tall and full of open windows and planting boxes overflowing with greenery. Awnings in every shade of red and orange stretched over the sides of the road at different levels, the ones higher up often suspended across the whole street between buildings on both sides, and partially translucent, casting colored, overlapping shadows on the clay and stucco and sandstone that everything seemed to be made out of.

Ahead of us the road sloped still downwards, so that even though the buildings grew taller and taller as they approached the center, they never reached any higher in the air than the ones at the edges. Through gaps in the awnings, we could see the far side of the city on the other side of the huge dome at the center, rising up to our level and the lip of the desert above.

The buildings were so tall and crowded that hardly any of the sunlight made it all the way down unbothered by the awnings or the sharp corners of the rooftops. With the rocky exteriors, open windows like caves, and awnings stretched across almost like sails, it almost felt more like a city built into a canyon than a block of three-story apartment buildings.

And everywhere there were minotaurs. Evidently this was a residential section of the city, because nearly all of the windows and doorways framed local citizens, working or talking or lounging in the shade or the sunshine. Clusters of youths leaned against alley walls, housewives leaned out of windows to hang linens, and there were even some market stalls set up against the walls of buildings, selling produce and simple crafts.

And then I saw the goats. It took me a moment to realize that they were the biggest reason the whole scene was so hard to take in. Everywhere I looked, goats moved. Goats in shirts, in robes, in vests, in collars. They ran in groups, carrying baskets and packages, and they ran alone with envelopes and bags. Many of them followed one or two minotaurs as they walked down the street, but none of them seemed to be resting or walking or socializing. It was as if each and every one of them had a job to do.

The city was alive and busy, and after so many days of empty wasteland and being alone with my two companions, it was all a little overwhelming.

And they were watching us.

Not all of them, of course, but many of the minotaurs around us were watching us surreptitiously or openly, their expressions (such as I could tell) ranging from suspicion to curiosity to open hostility.

I gulped as we made way for a black carriage pulled by a team of four goats, driven by a tall minotaur bull wearing a dark toga who glanced down his snout at us as we passed. I shivered as I felt the stares of minotaur guards, standing at corners and strolling among the citizens on all sides.

I glanced to my left and saw Lightning Dust looking around with wide eyes, her wings twitching and the corners of her mouth pulling indecisively up and down. Was she feeling the same things I was? It felt like I had woken up from a dream and found myself in a new world, where nothing in my past mattered and I would forever be a stranger.

It wasn’t until I made eye contact with Olive Branch that I realized we had stopped moving. His smile grew slowly on his face as he watched the two of us, then he stepped closer so we could hear him over the noise of the city.

“How about we get something to eat first?” he asked us. I exchanged a glance with Lightning Dust, who shrugged. My stomach growled and my wings ached, and I said nothing. “Come on,” Olive went on. “We’ll find something in the market.”

Together we threaded our way deeper into the heart of Minos, and the streets grew busier and the stalls and awnings larger and more abundant. When we could see the end of the road in front of us and the shouting of merchants announcing their wares filled the air, Olive led us off to the side and began twisting his ears to listen while craning his neck to try and see past the crowd of minotaurs that towered over us.

“Over there, I think,” Olive shouted back to us, pointing a hoof back up the street a ways. “Follow me!”

I raised my nose to sniff the air, which was full of all sorts of interesting smells. Many of them I didn’t recognize and only most of them were anything close to pleasant, but I couldn’t quite identify what it was Olive had found. I looked around to see what was available.

Of the stands selling food, most had exotic and local fruits and some vegetables, like tomatoes, olives, and grapes. There didn’t seem to be anything you’d expect to see in an Equestrian farmer’s market, like hay and alfalfa and flowers, though they did have some leafy herbs I didn’t recognize. And then there were foods I simply couldn’t identify. At least I thought they were foods. They seemed to be cooked and gave off a strong scent, but I didn’t see anyone actually eating them. I didn’t see anyone eating anything, actually. Those who did buy from the food stalls carried off their purchases in baskets or sealed containers, so I assumed the custom here was to eat all food at home, or at least indoors.

The pieces of food I couldn’t figure out were grey and brown and glistened like the flesh of a fruit, and gave off a lot of steam when fresh off the grills behind the stands. I was very curious about them, but the smell wasn’t very enticing so I didn’t wonder too much.

But then, of course, Olive came to a stop in front of a stall selling the stuff, this one in small, uneven balls on skewers with peppers and onions and spread with white sauce.The dressings actually did smell good enough to start my mouth watering, so I was surprised when Olive turned back to us with a completely serious expression on his face.

“Do you know what this is?” he asked us in a voice we had to lean in to hear.

“The brown things? No idea,” I answered. I turned to Lightning, and was even more surprised to see her eyebrows knit together in what looked like an expression of worry.

“Is it what I think it is?”

Olive held her gaze for a moment, but didn’t answer. He instead turned to the skinny minotaur bull behind the counter and asked for three. I may have imagined it, but I think the bull had an eyebrow raised as he handed Olive three skewers loaded with food.

I accepted one when Olive held them out and examined the odd brown balls curiously, but Lightning hesitated before taking hers. Sensing that I should probably trust her on this, I waited before taking the first bite.

Olive’s eyes glinted as he watched us, then he opened his mouth wide and took an entire ball into his mouth along with a pepper slice.

Lightning’s jaw dropped as she watched him chew, a small smile on his face, and I just looked back and forth between them in growing confusion.

“But— But—” Lightning sputtered as Olive took a second bite. “How. . . ? Why?”

Olive swallowed and grinned at her, bits of brown between his teeth. “It’s not bad once you get used to it. Try it!”

Lightning grimaced, and I realized she looked ill. Suddenly I began to feel a sneaking suspicion.

Before long, Olive finished his meal and dropped his skewer into a basket filled with other used utensils, while Lightning just stared at the stick in her hoof and bit her lip.

“Come on,” Olive urged her with narrowed eyes and an evil smile. “I dare you. I bet you won’t do it.”

Lightning took a deep breath and gave her head a quick shake, then looked up at him and returned his grin with one of her own. “Fine.” She stuck the skewer into her mouth and bit off two entire balls of the stuff. I felt something heavy and cold drop into my stomach as I watched her chew, not moving her eyes away from Olive’s.

Olive’s grin widened, and then the two of them turned to look at me, and I nearly flew away right then and there.

“But. . . . You— You can’t. . . .” I began to step back, pushing against the cart still strapped to my back, my eyes widening with every step. “You didn’t seriously. . . . You don’t. . . .”

“Come on, Plume,” Lightning prodded, still smiling like a cat approaching a cornered bird. “It’s your turn.”

I bit my lip, and planted my hooves in a wide stance. “I won’t do it!” I declared.

Olive’s smile began to harden, but Lightning’s grew ever wider as she narrowed her eyes and lowered her head as she stepped toward me, looking even more catlike than before. “Aw, don’t be like that, Plume!” she teased. “It’s just like eating your first brussel sprout! Not even that bad, really!”

I wrinkled my nose and looked at her like she had turned into an ugly creature from a cave. “How dare you?” I asked, with as much righteous authority as I could muster. She halted in her approach and smirked. “How could you? How can you stand there and joke like that after you just ate part of a fellow creature?” I demanded, feeling sick to my stomach. “And you!” I continued, turning my gaze to our superior, who stood in the same spot with his hooves pressed together, his expression completely neutral, looking off to the side. “You call yourself—”

“Plume.”

I froze mid-sentence as Olive Branch looked me in the eyes. His one word, though quieter than anything else the three of us had said, was impossible to miss, even in the continuing bustle of the marketplace.

“It’s time to grow up.”

I blinked. I glared at him like he had just pushed somepony off a bridge. But I didn’t say anything.

“The world isn’t as simple as it looked back home in Equestria. Right and wrong aren’t as simple. Out here you’re going to find people and ideas that make no sense to you, that you can’t imagine ever in your life agreeing with. You’ll learn things about cultures that you believe are repugnant or even evil.

“But you know what?” he said, leaning in. “They feel the same way about us. Good and evil is as much about understanding and ignorance as it is about morality itself. You can’t make friends if you believe everything different from you is bad, and you can’t make allies if you think other cultures and beliefs are evil.

“Remember, no one in the world truly believes in their heart that they are evil, themselves, even if the rest of the world disagrees. When you think about it that way, who are we to judge anyone? Before you can make a decision like that about a person, or a people, you have to make sure you really understand them.”

Olive paused to meet the eyes of the meat vendor, who had been watching the whole scene quietly. “Minotaurs eat meat. They always have. In fact, Equestrians are some of the only people in the world who don’t. If you’re going to help me do my job here, and help Equestria anywhere else in the world, you’re not only going to have to get used to that idea, but accept it. And I say that means you’re going to have to try some meat.”

I deflated a little under his gaze, and looked at the skewer still held in my upraised hoof, my stomach queasy. I wondered where this meat had come from, who it had once been a part of.

Olive relaxed his posture as he watched me. “If it helps you at all, this animal knew what its body would be used for after it died, and would understand why you have to do this. Isn’t that right?” he asked the vendor, who raised his eyebrows before nodding hesitantly.

Lightning Dust crossed her hooves, apparently bored with the whole thing. “Besides,” she added with a smirk, “it’s already dead anyway. You’re not going to save its life by refusing to eat it.”

My stomach turned at that last part. Not really helping, Dust. I sighed. Still, logically, everything they were saying made sense, and I couldn’t really disagree with any of it on its own. Yet it wasn’t any easier than before for me to make the simple motion from my hoof to my mouth.

Like brussel sprouts. My lip quivering, I closed my eyes, held my breath, and opened my mouth to take the first bite as quickly as I could.

I poked myself in the throat with the skewer.

Lightning and Olive and even the meat vendor all laughed while I gagged and coughed, and after that I resolved to just get it over with. Before I could stop myself, I moved my hoof and opened my mouth, and the meat was in. I chewed as little as possible and swallowed as quickly as I could, and tried my hardest to ignore the strong aftertaste, and when that didn’t work, to focus on the pungent sauce and grilled peppers.

When it was all over, I took a deep breath to calm my fluttering heart, and looked up to see Olive’s warm smile. “Good job. I’ll finish it for you, if you want.”

“Um, Olive?” Lightning began with an embarrassed smile. “Could you. . . finish mine, too?” she asked, holding out her skewer and looking pale.

We shared a laugh, but my heart wasn’t in it. I was too busy being horrified at discovering that I was disappointed to give mine up.

“Looks like this is it!” Olive announced as we stood at the corner of S-2 and Loun, near the center of the city.

The chancery, or the actual building the embassy mission was headquartered in, was slightly smaller and slimmer in design than its neighbors, but the property it was built on was sloped up into a hill and planted with green Equestrian grass. The facade featured the same tall, fluted columns we had seen on some of the older buildings in Minos, and reminded me heavily of the architecture of Cloudsdale. It made me wonder if the two styles were related, and which one had influenced the other.

The embassy was built with a lighter, pinker sandstone than the surrounding buildings, and had sliding plate windows with office blinds and flowered curtains instead of the swinging windows with dark drapes that were typical in Minos. The property was enclosed by a tall iron fence and an open gate, and just inside were two flagpoles, the one on the right flying the Equestrian flag, flapping slowly in a breeze I couldn’t feel, and the other flying a strange, geometric design of beige on a burnt red field, hanging limp and still.

The Equestrian embassy had a welcoming exterior, at least in my opinion, but that welcome seemed largely unreturned, since there was no visible activity anywhere nearby. The way the huge buildings seemed to lean in on all sides, it almost felt like the city itself was watching the embassy as suspiciously as the minotaurs had watched us on our arrival.

After unlatching me from the supply cart and parking it in an empty area in a corner of the property, Olive led us right up to the double doors and let himself in. Of course it was his embassy, but it still felt strange after so much trouble to get here not to have to knock or provide a password or something to get in.

Inside was a normal lobby like any other I had ever been to in Equestria, but for once I was actually excited to talk to a receptionist. They had actual pony-sized couches here!

The receptionist looked excited to see us, too. Or at least, as excited as any receptionist is capable of being, anyway.

“Are you Mister Olive Branch, then?” the mare asked in monotone, hardly raising her eyes to greet us.

“That’s right. We’re finally here!” Olive answered, his typical cheer standing out especially sharply against the receptionist's dull demeanor, which seemed to be soaked into the entire room around us.

The mare blew a curl of her charcoal-grey mane out of her face as she scribbled something with a stiff quill held in her magic. Lightning and I met each other’s eyes for a moment, eyebrows raised.

“You’ll want to meet with Sir Chintzendale,” the receptionist stated, looking back up from under heavy eyelids and heavier eyelashes. “He’ll help you get acquainted with the embassy.”

“Thank you, Miss. . . ,” Olive prompted, his head cocked to the point of exaggeration. I tried not to smile.

“Percolator. Percolator Peggy.” If there was any emotion in her voice, it was a dare to say anything, anything at all, about her name.

“Miss Peggy,” Olive confirmed with another smile and a nod. It may have just been the week I spent with the stallion, but I almost felt like he was smiling at us instead of ‘Miss Peggy.’ “And when and where could I find this Sir Chintzendale?”

Percolator Peggy looked back down at the papers in front of her behind the counter and out of our sight, but she didn’t seem to actually be checking anything. “I believe he’s still in his office. Your office, now, as well. Sixth floor, second from the top, just follow the sign.”

I’m sure another receptionist would have said something more in parting out of courtesy, especially to a new boss, but Peggy said nothing and Olive didn’t seem to question it. “Thank you. And can you point my escorts to the security offices?”

Percolator Peggy looked back up and blinked as her gaze slid from Olive to the two of us, standing behind him. She blinked again. What in Equestria is going on in that mare’s head? “Third floor, Lieutenant Mint Zephyr’s office. Follow the sign.”

“Thank you again.” Olive finally turned away from the desk, though Peggy had already resumed ignoring us. “You two go ahead and report in, then take the rest of the day off. If you want to explore the city, I strongly recommend taking someone along who knows where they’re going. Meanwhile, I’ll be meeting this Sir Chintzendale.” He stuck his tongue in his cheek and bobbed his eyebrows, then turned to head for the elevator. Then he stopped. “Actually,” he said, looking at us again, “Lightning Dust, I’ll probably be wanting your help later. Keep yourself available until I send for you. And Corporal Plumage?”

I perked up my ears, for some reason very interested in what he was about to say. I hated that about Olive Branch, sometimes.

“I’m making you Head of Security for the whole embassy. Good luck!”

With that, he turned and trotted off to the elevator, leaving me and Lightning Dust standing in front of the reception desk with our mouths hanging open.

I can say without exaggeration that my mouth didn’t close once on our way up to the security offices. Lightning’s mouth, on the other hoof, didn’t stop working the whole time. She didn’t always form coherent words, however.

“Head of. . . ? Bu— Plume. . . . What could. . . . I mean. . . . What am I supposed to. . . . Ehhh. . . ?”

When we found ourselves in front of the door emblazoned with SECURITY - LT. MINT ZEPHYR in gold lettering, we did nothing but stand there staring blankly ahead for a few moments until Lightning shook her head and looked at me.

“Hey,” she said, giving me a rough nudge, our armor clinking together. I roused myself and met her eyes. “Let’s go.”

I nodded, swallowed, and knocked on the door with a hoof. After a moment, a voice called, “Come in,” and we did.

The office of the Head of Security was separated from the rest of the floor by shuttered windows, and was probably enchanted to be soundproof. There wasn’t much in the way of decoration, just an Equestrian flag in the corner and a small portrait of Celestia on the wall to our right. Hanging over the window behind the desk was a sash from a Royal Guard dress uniform, pinned with two small golden medals.

The desk was simple and uncluttered, but still not organized either. Seated behind it, looking at us expectantly but not uncuriously, was the pegasus stallion I presumed to be Lieutenant Mint Zephyr.

“Yes?” he asked.

Lightning and I straightened up to attention, and after a moment’s hesitation, I answered for us. I was going to be the one in charge, after all. Apparently. “Escorts for Ambassador Olive Branch reporting on arrival and for duty, sir. Corporals Plumage and Lightning Dust.”

Mint Zephyr leaned back in his seat a little, his expression unchanging. His color scheme was just what I had imagined from his name. He had an extremely pale green coat, and his mane was striped in pastel green and turquoise, and cut short in a very militaristic style. He seemed much younger than most lieutenants I had known, and his green eyes had a sort of youthful energy that made him seem simultaneously focused and detached. All in all, he was very hard to read just by looking. I wondered how he would take the news that he was being replaced.

“The new ambassador is here, then? That’s good. At ease.” He got up from his chair and began to pace around the office as we settled into a more relaxed stance. “I was starting to get a little nervous since he didn’t arrive last night when he was supposed to. Did you run into trouble on the way here?”

He came to a stop at the corner of his desk to our left, and I tried to find words to summarize the reason for our late arrival. Lightning Dust beat me to it.

“Nothing we couldn’t handle, sir.”

I gave a very brief glance in her direction. She sounded awfully smug, considering we “handled” the situation by running away with our tails literally on fire.

“That’s good to hear,” Lieutenant Zephyr said. “I don’t think we could handle losing another ambassador again, so soon.”

He stood there for a moment, looking out the window to the east, the gentle slope of rooftops just visible above lit up brilliantly by the lowering sun and the alleyway below cast in shadow already, the first lamps being lit for the upcoming night.

For the first time in days, I remembered the reason we were here in the first place, and how this all must feel for the ponies of the embassy. For a moment I felt guilty for being there, like we were intruders at a family dinner, or a private funeral.

Zephyr sighed heavily. “Well, on to business. My understanding is that the two of you will be joining our staff here in Minos, at least until the end of your current tour. Is that correct?”

“Yes, sir!” we answered together.

“Good. Now, forgive me, but the phrasing of the orders I received were a little unclear. Has the ambassador given the two of you any special assignments of any kind? Any instructions after your arrival?”

Once again, Lightning and I shared a quick glance. “The ambassador advised me to keep myself available until he calls for me,” Lightning answered. “But. . . um. . . . Well. . . .”

Mint Zephyr raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Corporal?”

Lightning gave me a sheepish look, then finished: “He said he’s putting Corporal Plumage in charge of Security.”

Darn it, Lightning! Or maybe, ‘darn it, Olive’? Anyway, one of you is responsible for breaking the lieutenant.

Keep your enemies close, and your friends closer.

View Online

“Ambassador! You’re finally here!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I could do that.

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

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

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

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

“You don’t say. . . .”

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

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

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

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

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

“You said ‘was’. Where is Elena now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why do we have an auditorium?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am not her replacement.”

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

I had.

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

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

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

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

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

“You are the next best thing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dust returned it. “You never know.”

“True enough, I guess.”

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

“Can I ask what you’re up to?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yours too, probably.”

“Gee, thanks.”

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

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

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

“What do you want me to do, boss?”

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

“I feel so special.”

“I’m glad.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Minos. . . .

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

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

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

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

I decided to stop thinking about it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It felt like oppression.

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

It’s time to grow up.

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

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

Nuno blinked. “What? But— Gonzalo!”

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

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

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

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

“Of course, Ambassador.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dust rolled her eyes. “Of course not.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What makes you say that?”

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

“Are countries really that much like playground foals?”

“Surprisingly, yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Must be what I’m here for.”

~ End Part 1 ~

PART 2 - Consultation, Coffee, and Clay

View Online

~ Part 2 Start ~

My worst fears were confirmed when Olive’s decision to make me his “bodyguard” turned out to be a glamorous-sounding excuse to make me do his work for him. My first job was to find out who in the embassy knew the communication spell, so that if we had to make the rest of the world think the Princess was a supervillain bent on world domination, it would be with her permission.

Luckily it wasn’t too hard of a job. July, the annoying little filly who smiled so hard that it hurt my eyes, knew exactly who to send me to. And considering she had been sitting just outside the room we were in when Olive gave me the order, I was feeling less than impressed with him once again.

It had been hard staying quiet during his meeting with those minotaurs. Or at least, it would have been if I didn’t have a mind carved out of marble from my last job, as a statue. That old Nuno guy may have been telling the truth about being Laurel’s friend, but that didn’t mean he had to be much better than Gonzo or whatever the other guy’s name was. When Nuno didn’t deny that that guy wanted to start a war, for the first time since I had met him, Olive looked actually scared. Before that, I couldn’t imagine his face with an expression like that.

If this guy scared Olive Branch, I think I might rather go back to live with the zmey.

The unicorn we needed was a stallion named Pointed Course. I don’t know what it is about the government, but we seem to get all the weirdo names. While he wasn’t the only pointed horse in the embassy who knew the spell we needed, he was the one whose job it was to do it. When not sending or relaying special messages and letters like ours, he apparently spent his time gathering reports from the different departments on the second floor to send to our handlers in Canterlot.

Since he had an errand-filly handy, Olive couldn’t be bothered to find Pointed Course himself, so he wrote out his letter to Celestia and handed it to me with a smile. I didn’t take it with one.

I also wasn’t smiling as I attempted to find one unicorn stallion out of the six or seven in the endless maze of cubicles on the second floor. Pointed Course didn’t have his own office space that I could find, so I had to assume he was walking around somewhere. I made four or five passes over the heads of the embassy staff sitting at their desks, earning several nervous or curious looks.

Finally I decided to ask someone. I landed in the central corridor and trotted up to the nearest desk jockey that hadn’t already noticed me, an orange-and-cream Earth Pony mare who answered to the name “Ice Swirl - Consular Affairs - Visa Management” that was printed on a nameplate sitting on her lonely-looking desk.

“Yes? What can I do for you?” Her initial reaction of ingrained friendly customer service was quickly followed by surprise and slight worry as she noticed my armor, much to my amusement. I had to admit, that was one perk of working in the Royal Guard that I enjoyed.

“Do you know where I can find Pointed Course?”

She blinked twice before sitting up in her chair to look over the cubicle wall, craning her neck in all directions, including up for whatever reason. Finally her ears lifted as she looked toward the stairs, and pointed with a hoof. “There he is, going into Magic.”

I grabbed the letter back from under my wing and took off to glide over to where she indicated, another block of cubicles cluttered with all sorts of stuff I didn’t understand or recognize, feeling Ice Swirl’s pout behind me as I left her. Meh, maybe I should have said ‘thank you’ or something. Oh well, I got what I needed.

“Excuse me! Pointed Course?” I said as soon as I landed outside “Magic”, whatever that meant, and spat the letter back under my wing. The three unicorns seated at the desks inside watched me with interest, just like I had interrupted their boring lives by being daring and cool. Another perk of the job I liked.

Pointed Course was a very strict-looking blue stallion, with a mane true to his name, straight and striped and falling from a tall point at the top of his head. I decided from then on that he would be known as “Pointy”, if he wasn’t already.

He turned to me with a frown, his eyes mostly hidden behind his glasses, just like I had interrupted the boring job he loved by being bold and uninvited. If I had to do all of Olive’s most annoying errands, I was going to have fun doing it. “Yes? What do you want?” Pointy asked me, setting aside a clipboard and quill he had been levitating.

“The ambassador wants this sent to Princess Celestia right away,” I answered, holding out the letter on a wing.

He took it in his magic and examined in for a moment, then looked up at me with all the suspicion of a schoolcolt smelling an incoming prank. I just raised an eyebrow and stood a little straighter in my armor, and he sniffed and flashed his horn, making the envelope disappear in a burst of green flame and sparks. The smoke took off towards the nearest open window, and I figured he hadn’t just destroyed the thing in a bout of defiance.

“Is the ambassador expecting a quick reply?” Pointy asked.

I thought for a moment about the contents of the letter. “Yeah, I’d say if she doesn’t answer right away, the Princess would have to be busy fighting for her life or something.”

Pointy didn’t seem amused. His loss. Olive would’ve laughed. You know, probably. “Then I’ll send it straight to him when it arrives. You may go now,” Pointy announced before turning back to his clipboard and the disappointed office workers.

I grimaced at him behind his back and took off for the stairs. I had a bad feeling I was going to have to deal with that guy a lot in the future.

The response from the Princess arrived about ten minutes later, as I sat on a chair of my very own outside Olive’s office, doing absolutely nothing. I had thought standing still for four hours was boring, but at least it took effort and concentration to not move the entire time. Here, though, I could theoretically do whatever I wanted, and that was driving me absolutely crazy. And that was only in the first two minutes!

When Olive had seen my face after showing me my new personal corner of the world, he had smirked and offered to find me a good book to read. It was a testament to the extremity of my boredom that I actually knocked on his door after those first few awful minutes to retract my previous, offhand refusal.

I knew the letter arrived because I watched the flying splotch of green smoke zoom through the room from under the front door, and then heard the flash and small exclamation from behind the windows of Olive’s office.

I figured I should let myself in. I supposed that, being just a bodyguard, I probably had no real business doing so, but knowing Olive I would be surprised if he thought so. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he called me in to read it with him.

As it was, he looked up from the unrolled scroll when I came in. “Go ahead and sit down,” he said without preamble, flicking a hoof to a chair now sitting in a corner that had been occupied by a potted plant the first time I had been in here.

I took my seat, and to my only slight surprise, Olive held up the letter and read aloud:

“My Dear Ambassador, Olive Branch:
“I understand your concern over invoking my authority in support of a candidate in a foreign election, but I want you to trust me, and more importantly, trust the people that Laurel trusted. There should be many sources you can ask in order to find these people, both within the embassy and without.
“In particular, I would recommend a minotaur cow named Elena diCabra, whom Laurel always spoke most highly of as her personal aide. I suspect finding her might be rather difficult, as my understanding of her employment is that she worked solely for Laurel and not the embassy itself.
“Do not worry overmuch about the consequences of showing favor to a local party in such a public manner. And though in the past our policy there has been to avoid such direct interference, there are times such as this when it is necessary.

“Minos has always had a unique relationship with Equestria, especially where my sister and I are concerned. The minotaurs, for the most part, have a great deal of respect for us and our opinions. And while it is true that many do not think highly of us, they still recognize our wisdom and our power.
“I am well-acquainted with Gonzalo diTantalo. We have met on multiple occasions, and he has made his opinion of me and my ponies no secret. He is every bit as intelligent and cunning as you suspect, and I am not surprised to hear how he is going about his campaign for a seat on the Council, though I am greatly disappointed.
“As for whether he is behind Laurel’s fate, I am not so sure. He is certainly capable of such an act, were he truly motivated to. And I cannot deny that in this case that motive is a possibility. However, there are others in Minos that I am aware of that are just as likely to be the culprits, some even more so. Gonzalo has many friends and is very politically powerful, and there is no telling how many people would benefit from his gaining office.
“I implore you to remain cautious in all things. There are players in the forums who you can trust with your life, but there are many more you should not trust at all. Nuno diPatras is one of the former. His methods may not always be ideal and he may not always show trust himself, but he is in complete agreement with our ideals and fights for what is right.
“Find Elena if you can. She will tell you everything Laurel shared with her. If you cannot, I suggest talking to your lobby receptionist, Percolator Peggy. She has a great talent for gossip that served Laurel well on many occasions.”

“I—”

Olive cut off abruptly and glanced up at me, a twinkle sparking once in his eye as he read on in silence. I cocked my head and watched him curiously, wondering what it was he didn’t want me to hear.

Only a moment or two later, though, he started reading aloud again.

“In the meantime, I will gather what I can of Laurel’s effects that might be useful to you, and send them on as I find them.
“I wish you the best of luck. Remember that I chose you for a reason beyond your ability to make the journey.
“Your friend, Princess Celestia.”

Finished, Olive sighed and folded the scroll into thirds and put it in a drawer of his desk. “Well,” he said simply. “That was about what I expected.”

“You didn’t mention Elena in your letter?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I didn’t think I needed to. I heard she was helpful and I figured she must be knowledgeable since Nuno brought her with him to the meeting to prove his trustworthiness, but advice on how to pick out the weeds in the hay wasn’t what I was asking for.”

I thought back on what I could remember of the letter he had just read to me. “She mentioned others that might have been behind Laurel’s death,” I said. “She said it like she knew who they were. But why didn’t she tell us who?”

Olive leaned back in his fancy office chair. “All sorts of reasons. She probably didn’t want to compromise herself or us or force more hostile action if anyone else ever read the letter, or maybe she didn’t want to poison us against someone that she wasn’t sure about, if it turned out that they weren’t conspiring against us. Who knows? Maybe she just doesn’t really know.”

Darn it. How many minotaurs were there in this town that might want to kill us? My job just kept getting more and more complicated. And that was nothing compared to poor Plume. And you know things are serious when I feel sorry for the Whining Wonder. I may have been more directly responsible for keeping Olive safe, but that didn’t lessen Plume’s new responsibilities at all. I wondered how he was doing. After Olive’s speech to the embassy, Plume had gone off with Mint Zephyr to get more acquainted with everything, and get started in his new position. I hadn’t seen him since then.

Olive and I were interrupted in our quiet thoughts by a knock at the door. Olive called for whoever it was to come in, and the door opened to reveal none other than Elena. I was starting to feel a little overwhelmed at this cow’s sudden involvement in everything. It felt like I had heard her name more than any others since we arrived.

I wouldn’t get the chance to learn more about her, however. “Ambassador?” Elena asked as she came through the door and took up the remaining space in the office. “I came to tell you that Sir Chintzendale has taken the liberty of inviting some more of the forum’s leading minotaurs to a dinner with you tonight, upstairs in your parlor. And I believe you wished to speak with me as soon as I was available.” She looked down at me in my little chair in the corner, and I suddenly felt very possessive of it.

“Excellent!” Olive exclaimed. “I have a lot of things to ask you about. Dust?”

“Sir?” I asked, turning back to him. He didn’t object to the formality.

“Why don’t you go out and find us some coffee? Perky Peg should know some good places nearby. You might have to get her some, too, though. While you’re at it, ask her about the guest list for tonight. Here,” he said, sliding a pile of what I assumed were the minotaur equivalent of bits across his desk to me.

Perky Peg? Oh! Right. “Sure thing, boss.” I swept up the little clay tiles, reluctantly got up from my seat, and stepped around Elena’s huge frame and out of the stuffy little office. As I walked to the elevator, I did a lot of thinking.

Coffee. He told me to get him coffee. Olive Branch may have enjoyed teasing me with my position as his subordinate, but he had given this order with a completely straight face, which made me even more suspicious of it. Maybe he didn’t want me to be part of his conversation with Elena? Or more likely, he just thought it was too crowded in that office of his. But no, if that was the case then he would have just asked me to step out. That was what my chair outside was for, after all.

So the reason had to be in the errand itself. Probably about “Perky Peg”, as Olive called her. I would be surprised if Elena didn’t know everything about the guests herself, since she was the one who delivered the message and apparently she was the minotaur to know if you wanted to understand the political scene of Minos. Plus, she had summarized the guests as “some more of the forum’s leading minotaurs”, and that didn’t sound like the sort of phrasing you gave to the messenger, so it was more likely her own judgement instead of Sir Chintzalot’s, or whatever his name was.

So considering that Princess Celestia herself recommended talking to her, it was pretty likely that Olive wanted me to tap into her “great talent for gossip” about these guests. And probably the minotaurs we had already met or heard about, as well.

I groaned.

Perky was less harsh than Pointy, but every bit as boring and irritable. If it was true that she knew all the good coffee places, then Olive was probably counting on that being the way to butter her up for information.

As I raised my golden hoof to hit the button in the elevator for the lobby, I paused and looked at the shoe. I really didn’t feel like walking through the streets of Minos alone in this armor. Deciding on an impulse to take this opportunity to finally get out of the stupid armor for the first time since we arrived, I pressed the button for the third floor instead.

The door slid open and I immediately felt justified in my decision. The mares and stallions on the security floor were all clearly Royal Guard, but of the four or five I saw as I made my way through the halls, only one was wearing a full set of armor, and that was the yellow Earth Pony mare just exiting the door of my quarters.

It was probably for that reason that I didn’t stop her to introduce myself, but that was only another part of my immediate feeling of dislike for her, combined with her race.

I had no problem with Earth Ponies on principle, but the only one I had ever had anything to talk about with was my former bunkmate, Music Box. It might have just been because I was thinking about not having to wear armor and seeing her wearing hers, but I made the decision that I didn’t like her even faster than I usually do.

I slowed my pace until she was around the next corner, then turned into my quarters and removed the sweaty plates and straps of my armor. I took a moment to stretch and shake out my still-sore wings before I headed back out.

On the way down to the lobby I was almost prancing with elation that I was finally free from that stupid suit. I could move again! I could breathe again! I still felt like crap after the last week, but I was happy crap, darn it!

My smug expression was very nearly deflated when it met the heavy eyelids of Percolator Peggy, however.

“Can I help you?” she asked with a voice that made we feel like I should feel guilty for being so energetic.

“Uh. . . hi,” I began, suddenly sheepish. “I heard you’re the one to ask about good coffee places nearby.”

Her eyebrows lifted just a hair, but it was like something about her had been slumped on the ground but was now on its hooves. “Who told you that?”

Looks like I was on the right track. “The ambassador. He asked me to get him a cup, and mentioned you might like some, too.”

That got her to looking downright excited, at least by her usual standards. Her eyes opened all the way, and I even thought for a moment that I could detect the beginnings of a blush on her cheeks. “Oh, how nice of him. You were one of his escorts, weren’t you?”

“Heh. That’s right. But now I’m his personal guard. And coffee-fetcher, apparently.”

For the very first time since I had met her, her face displayed an actual emotion, as she raised an eyebrow and smirked. It seemed I had stumbled onto her gossipy side. “Isn’t that always the way it is? Poor Laurel Wreath used to have Elena running around on errands like this, too. Though she never sent out for coffee. She always took Elena’s homebrewed tea instead.”

I’ll bet. “He’s meeting with her right now. Maybe he doesn’t like tea.”

“Oh, is she staying with us again, then? I saw her come in with that Elder and his toady earlier, and then she was in and out for a while carrying packages and things. I wondered what she was doing. It must have been all her things she was moving. Didn’t say a word to me the whole time, of course. I hate it when people do that. It’s only my job to keep track of who comes and goes, you know?”

I blinked. Hoo, boy. Gossip. I hated gossip. Talking about somepony behind their back was fun sometimes, so long as you could handle other ponies doing it to you, but I couldn’t stand mares like this, that lived for it.

Still, this was a mission for Olive, and it might turn out to be actually important, so I figured I should do my best. And the way the short silence since Perky paused for air was turning for the sour, that meant I was supposed to match her efforts.

Well, no sense in doing things halfway. I reared up and rested my forelegs on the counter between us and started idly tapping my back hoof.

“Oh, yes. Believe me, I know how that feels. Even before I came here, it was my job to guard doors of all things, in Canterlot Palace. You’d think a posting like that would be exciting and glamorous, but nooooo,” I complained, drawing out my intonations and inflections as much as I thought was proper, and lolling my head around at the same time, “All we did was stand still in one spot for hours at a time, in case anyone felt like sneaking past us. Sometimes we would get doors that really did lead somewhere important, or that, Celestia forbid, actually got used once a day. Then we were supposed to stop anyone who came too close and let them in when we were sure they were legit, but what sort of ponies do you think were usually trying to get through those doors?”

“I don’t know,” Perky answered, now raptly attentive to my every word, and still smirking. “Important ones, I would guess?”

“Yep,” I confirmed. “Only the most important, wealthy, well-bred government officials, who were all apparently too important to be stopped at the door to the war room or wherever by ordinary Royal Guards like us. They would walk right past us like we weren’t standing in their way and telling them to stop. Honestly, I don’t know why they bothered putting us there.” Boy, that felt much better to finally say than I thought it would. Huh.

Peggy hummed in agreement. “I’m so sure. But I bet you had plenty of excitement flying the whole way here, over all that wilderness!”

Hah. Excitement. “You could definitely say that. Or you could say most of it was boring and exhausting. But at the same time, now that I’m here I don’t really want things to get exciting. I’ve seen enough of that already.”

That raised her eyebrows. “Oh really? Do tell!” Crap.

I took a deep breath in an attempt to buy time to think of a way out of the hole I had dug myself into. “Well, I assume you know all about Chintzendale’s dinner tonight?”

“Of course.”

“Do you know who all he invited?” I said, trying desperately to make it sound like the honest question it was and not just an invitation for more gossip.

“Mm-hmm. Did no one bother to tell you?”

“Nope. I’m only in charge of the ambassador’s personal security, after all.” That was easy enough.

“Well, I’ll go ahead and tell you all about them, then. There will be two more Elders from the Grand Council, an old fogey named Lorco diRaptis and an upstart named Paullo Barbas. I don’t know too much about their political stances, but I know Laurel used to see a lot of both of them, especially the old one. Other than them, there’s a merchant named Inigo Navarro and a sculptor that I’m pretty sure is called Duarte something-or-other. I don’t know, Minoan names can be so hard to keep track of.”

“You’re telling me.” No kidding. I was starting to have trouble keeping them all straight. Why did minotaurs have such random-sounding names? It made no sense. “Isn’t there anything more you can tell me about them? Surely you know more than that.”

I was hoping she would take that as a challenge, and I think I was partially right, judging by her expression, but she didn’t give me what I wanted. “Maybe I do, but you probably shouldn’t keep the ambassador waiting.”

Oh yeah. Whoops. “Heh. Yeah, you’re right. So where should I go?”

“Hmmm. . . . There’s a nice little place just two blocks outward, on the corner of S-Two and Kuon, called Kuon Corner. They’re not too pricey for the quality, but frankly their location is their strongest selling point, at least for me. Try the dark barros blend with just a drop or two of cream for the ambassador, and if you happen to have any tiles left over, I happen to prefer the medium pereira mocha, with a little dash of cinnamon.”

Yeah, there was no way I was going to remember that. The address maybe, but I was afraid I might have to “run out” of tiles to get Perky her fancy coffee. Sweet Celestia did that mare know her brew, though. “Thank you so much, Peggy. I can call you Peggy, right?”

“Sure thing,” she said, with an actual smile. “And what’s your name, hun?”

“Lightning— oh. Corporal Lightning Dust.”

“Well, I’ll see you on the way back, then, Miss Dust.”

“Looking forward to it.” Really. I tremble with anticipation.

A couple hours later, when the sun had set behind the lip of the city’s crater and the streets of Minos had lit up with flameless clay-and-glass lamps of every color, Olive and I sat at the huge dining table in the seventh-floor parlor with Elena and Sir Chintzendale, waiting for the dinner guests to arrive.

Chintzendale, who was so chubby I suspected he had already eaten all our food, was sitting on Olive’s left, talking his ear off about even more nothing than Perky Peg had when I came back with the coffee.

Olive, seated at the head of the table, listened attentively and patiently, as far I could tell. Though even knowing him, I don’t know how it was possible for him not to at least tune most of it out. Actually, he was far more likely to be faking interest perfectly, now that I thought about it.

Elena would be serving the meal, so she hadn’t taken a seat, though there was one set for her. For the moment she waited by the door to let the guests in when they arrived. I didn’t claim to know anything about dinner manners, but for something this formal, sitting at the table before the guests showed up didn’t feel right to me. But when I asked Olive about it, Elena had explained that the Minoan custom was to have the guests approach the hosts just as they were about to eat.

I also didn’t feel quite right sitting on Olive’s immediate right, but he had insisted I sit at the table as a participant in the conversation instead of standing aside as a guard. I guess it was an honor, but right now it meant I was directly across from Chintzendale with nothing at all going on but him.

“. . .I visited Gomes last month, you know, lovely place. Provincial circles are usually a bit exclusive, but Gomes is always busy because of the ports. You’ll have to ask Inigo about his fleet, it’s really the most spectacular. . . .”

I felt like praying thanks to Celestia when Elena finally announced the guests, but I was too afraid that the dinner would be even worse.

The first of the four guests to walk in was Elder Lorco diRaptis, and Peggy hadn’t been kidding when she called him an old fogey. He was by far the tallest of the four, but he was bent and wrinkled, and skinnier than any minotaur I had yet seen. His powder-grey coat hung off of his skeleton like it was simply wrapped in cloth, and his fingers were long and thin, and yet moved with such a quick dexterity that I thought he must have stolen a younger minotaur’s hands. He was extremely polite and spoke gently, and had a friendly aura around him that made me think he saw everyone as his grandchildren.

The “upstart” Elder, Paullo Barbas, was more on the short and stocky side, but he still towered over my head like all minotaurs. He seemed to have a perpetual frown, and his horns pointed forward almost past his muzzle, so straight that they caught my attention every time I looked at him. He wore a toga similar to the one Nuno had worn earlier today, but his was lighter grey to better contrast his charcoal coat. No one said anything out loud, but I got the distinct impression that the other minotaurs didn’t much like Paullo.

The merchant, Inigo Navarro, who entered third, was also not very tall, but less stocky and more rugged, without being wide. He sported a rough goatee, and was the first minotaur I had seen so far with hair on his head, a darker green than his coat and hanging down to his shoulders. He was the most raunchy of the four, making me wonder just what was considered proper in minotaur etiquette for a dinner party like this. He also spoke with an odd accent that I had never heard before, but gave me the impression he wasn’t from the city.

The sculptor was named Duarte, Duarte diMorales. He was the last to come in, small and skinny for a minotaur, with a reddish coat and curved horns, and a couple prominent wrinkles on his face. He hardly spoke at all, and he tended to move in small, quick jerks, especially in his hands and neck. I had to wonder how he sculpted anything that way without ruining it.

As was the Minoan custom, the guests brought their own goat attendants to assist Elena, two per visitor. Another custom I wasn’t forewarned about was that guests bring the wine, which minotaurs were supposedly famous for. Each one of the four guests produced a bottle from within togas and robes, and there was a simple ceremony before we actually started eating, where we passed the bottles around and sampled each one.

I wondered if the choice of which bottle to eventually fill your glass from was important to the subtle politics of a formal dinner like this one. I just picked the one I liked best, though I did my best to politely decline a second glass without offending old Lorco, and I thought I noticed Olive and Chintz doing the same. I didn’t know about minotaurs, but ponies were not built to handle any more than one small glass of wine. It seemed that Lorco had spent enough time with Laurel to be aware of that, but I still couldn’t help but feel bad for saying no to that wrinkled smile.

The food was excellent, as far as the herbivore selection went. I was actually very glad that there was only a little meat served, though I took a bite of it after Olive did. I didn’t get how anyone could actually enjoy that taste, or that texture, but I suspected my tongue just wasn’t meant for it.

The conversation, however, wasn’t as enjoyable. At least not universally. There were some times that were actually interesting, like Inigo’s stories of seafaring adventures that he claimed to have had, or even Duarte the red-coated sculptor’s explanation of the basics of minotaur clayspells, given solely for my benefit.

It turns out that Minoan sculptors aren’t artists; they’re more like magicians or engineers. And just like any unicorn wizard back in Canterlot, Duarte was prepared and eager to give a lecture at the drop of a hat.

Apparently, Minos was built on an ancient quarry of magic clay. Or maybe it was that the clay wasn’t magic itself, but especially receptive to magic. Even as he explained it, I wasn’t sure I understood completely. But the important part was that minotaur magic was expressed by sculpting the clay into a certain shape under a ceremonial process, and inscribing it with geometric patterns based on crosses, squares, and circles. The patterns were also linked to ancient Minoan glyphs used before Equestrians brought real written language, and were still used for things like the Minoan flag I had seen flying outside the embassy, or the city gates, and even used to denote value on the clay tiles they used in place of bits.

Well, buying the coffee would have been a lot less confusing if I had known that at the time.

But what interested me was the uses clayspells were put to. “Clayspells can reproduce virtually any effect producible by pony magic, and many more” Duarte explained, sitting to my right.

“Really?” I asked, skeptical. “Even creating weather?”

“Of course,” Duarte said, twitching a finger up to point to the ceiling. “You’ve seen the clouds over the city. A clayspell’s power scales with its size. Minos is circular because its streets form the world’s largest known clayspell, that controls our weather and allows us to grow plants in the circle.”

My eyes widened and I might have blinked a few times, but I didn’t care much to pay attention to my own body’s doings. “You don’t need pegasi to make your weather?”

“Of course not!” snapped Paullo, pointing his distractingly prominent horns directly at my muzzle from his seat across from Duarte. “Did you see enough ponies in the city to do everything for us? Or any ponies at all outside this embassy, for that matter?”

Leaving aside the obvious reason the other minotaurs seemed to dislike Elder Barbas, I realized he was right. I hadn’t seen any ponies on the streets. Not that I had really expected them, considering the distance from Equestria and the weird customs they had going on here. Still, the thought that the roads of all things did the work of an entire team of weather pegasi and several families of Earth Pony farmers was a little troubling. I wasn’t sure I liked clayspells.

Duarte saw me staring deeply into my soup and decided to completely disregard my lack of attention, going right on with his lecture. “In fact, all the surrounding estates are built on smaller versions of the same pattern. On the coast, half the pattern is made to extend over the water on great pillars, to maintain its three-dimensional shape and still allow for maximum coverage of the sealine.”

“Fun fact:” Olive said, looking to me, “Minoan cities and provinces are called ‘circles’, because the ancient minotaurs who built them had never imagined a city not being circular.” He flashed me a sweet smile while the others weren’t looking. “But those are just the big ones. Most clayspells are much smaller, isn’t that right?”

“That’s correct,” Duarte picked right the heck back up. “Naturally, such large patterns take a huge amount of effort and time to create, not to mention space.” He gave a small giggle. I almost groaned aloud. “There are thousands, perhaps even millions of possible patterns, each with a different effect, and we discover new ones every day. And unlike pony magic, clayspells can be operated by anyone, since all the requisite magic and skill go into making them. Most operate indefinitely, but many patterns can made to activate on their own according to a timer or a sensor, or they can be triggered manually, even long after their construction.”

“How long is ‘indefinitely’?” I had to ask.

“As long as the pattern remains unbroken, the magic still operates. Even if the clay itself degrades, the pattern is the important part. Modern clayspells all include a sub-pattern to reinforce their clay from wear.”

“Part of my business is shipping clayspell devices to Equestria,” Inigo said, leaning in from Duarte’s other side and looking quite proud of himself. “Have you ever played an arcade game? My family’s ships brought it from Minos.”

I definitely blinked that time. “Wait. Arcade game machines are clayspells?” I asked, looking to Duarte.

“That’s right,” he said, his neck twitching twice in a nod.

I was a bit dumbstruck, to say the least. When I was a filly, the workings of arcade games used to boggle my mind. My grandma never had a good answer when I asked how they worked. I always assumed—“I thought they worked on gems, or something,” I offered, pathetically.

Duarte frowned a little in thought. “The first ones did. We quickly improved on them. Clayspells are much more complex than gem matrices. Though gems do have certain advantages our clay can’t match. But for a secure lock, or information storage, clayspells are without peer.”

The urge to yawn I had been fighting disappeared. “Information storage?”

“Yes indeed!” answered Chintz of all ponies, sitting across from me on Olive’s left. “In fact, the Royal Archives in Canterlot have a clayspell that stores a copy of every major newspaper, from every day they have record of. It can bring up any issue you want on a screen at the push of a button. I believe they are considering storing more of their records this way.”

I was beginning to wonder why minotaurs hadn’t already taken over the world. “So if these things are so amazing, why aren’t they everywhere?”

Old Lorco gave a single chuckle. “Someday, I’m sure. But we can only dig up clay so fast, after all. It will be a long while yet before Canterlot has anything more than clayspell street lamps and a fancy filing cabinet or two.”

Street lamps, too? It’s already too late.

Thankfully, it wasn’t long after that that Elena took away that course’s dishes and replaced them with dessert: sweet fried flatbread and three big bowls meant to share, full of yogurt that I dearly hoped, as I eyed the goats hastily carting dishes back and forth, was made from cow’s milk.

As Elena and the goats retreated to the small kitchen, taking my suspicious thoughts with them, I realized that for the first time that evening, talk had turned to politics and the upcoming election.

“I’m considering it, yes,” Olive was saying. “Really, I’d rather not use Celestia’s influence like this, but it’s looking as if I have no other options.”

Also a first for the evening, everyone at the table was ignoring the food before them to focus on the conversation. Everyone except Chintz, of course. I suppose it didn’t take any extra concentration for him to talk and eat at the same time, but I preferred to think that he was simply incapable of ignoring food for any reason. As for myself, I determined to wait to sample the yogurt as long as possible, instead trying a plain triangle of frybread.

“I wouldn’t worry about that at all, if I were you,” Inigo said. “Laurel Wreath, may her soul find peace, was especially bold with her position in many important forums.”

Wow, that bread was good. Cinnamon and sugar, I think, baked right into it. I didn’t expect it, since there was nothing on the outside. And something else, something more savory. I bet it would go really well with the yogurt. Maybe that could wait a little longer, though. Chintz was distracting enough compared to the stillness of the rest of the table, and I didn’t want to draw attention to myself.

Olive grimaced. “Yes, but I don’t imagine she made official proclamations for the Princess for many of them. This is your government, and you shouldn’t need or want our Princess’s permission or approval for internal decisions.”

“Perhaps it’s true that we shouldn’t rely on it as we do,” Lorco added, “but I hope the day never comes when we no longer desire it. Friendship is a valuable thing, as your people are so fond of saying. Celestia has done much good for us in the past, and we still tell stories of the visits she and her sister once paid us, long ago. We owe everything to them, in some way or another.”

“But not your freedom,” Olive countered, raising a hoof emphatically. “Not today. This whole situation is. . . . I don’t like it. We have a personal interest here because of what happened to Laurel, and I do believe having Gonzalo on the Council would have a negative impact internationally in the future, so I agree this is a matter for me to get involved in, but Celestia’s endorsement should never have been an expectation, much less the hinging point of your election.”

Duarte rested an elbow on the table. “I don’t see a problem, personally. This is Princess Celestia we’re talking about here. If anyone in the world has the right to take an interest and even a hand in our affairs, it’s her.”

“But it’s not just about Princess Celestia. I’m not her envoy, I’m an ambassador for the nation of Equestria. As a nation, we don't hold any sort of authority over you. Internationally speaking, Minos has an equal standing with Equestria, Princesses notwithstanding.”

The minotaurs all exchanged looks at that, some with grimaces of their own. Apparently they didn’t quite agree with that. Huh.

Olive glanced around at them with a look of impatience. There was no sign of the humor he showed when Plume and I disagreed with him, and we turned out to be wrong. “You have an ambassador from High Eyrie in Minos, right?”

Two or three of the minotaurs nodded.

“You wouldn’t expect him to announce King Gryphus’s endorsement and expect it to mean anything, would you?”

“Of course not,” Paullo snorted. “Gryphus is an ally, but his voice means nothing here.”

“Yet by the same policy that gives Celestia’s voice weight in your forums, he should be allowed the same influence.”

Inigo leaned back and folded his arms. “That would be a shaky argument at best, but I see the point you are trying to make.”

Olive sighed deeply. “The more important point is that no other country I know of would tolerate our interference like this. I’m just shocked that you accept it like this. That you expect it!”

“Well,” said Duarte, shrugging and looking tired, “there are plenty of bulls behind Gonzalo who would have us become like those nations. And not everyone opposed to him values our friendship and respect for Celestia as much as we here do.”

I had forgotten the frybread. I had never thought about how other countries saw Equestria, and the Princesses. Mostly because I never really thought about other countries. Before I met Olive Branch, I don’t think I could have named the homelands of two other species. And I doubt I was unusual in Equestria for that, either. Knowing that. . . .

“I agree with Olive.”

Everyone twisted in their seats to look at me. Well, everyone except Chintz, who wiped his face with a napkin and excused himself for the washroom.

“There are thousands of ponies in Equestria, all living their own lives with no idea who Gonzalo is or what this election might mean for them. They would never know anything about what happens here until their arcade machines stop coming. But they know there are countries out there, and that the Princesses and her ambassadors work hard to protect them no matter what happens outside Equestria, to be good friends with those countries. I. . . I don’t think ponies would be comfortable if they felt like their ambassadors and their Princesses were making another country’s decisions for them. That doesn’t sound like something a friend would do.”

There was a moment as everyone sat in silence. Duarte was now staring at his dish, still empty. Paullo and Lorco watched me from across the table, and I couldn’t see Inigo from where I sat.

Olive watched me pensively, biting his lip. Eventually he spoke. “It’s a good point, and a fresh perspective. But still, for as long as I’ve personally known Princess Celestia, I’ve never known her to do something that didn’t turn out to have a very good reason behind it, no matter how often it seemed like the opposite at first. And as I said, as far as this election goes, it’s a moot point. As much as I—”

Whatever he was about to say was cut short, as a pained groan sounded from the direction of the washroom. Elena poked her head through the kitchen door, frowning.

Olive bit down a smile, and after a moment, so did I. I couldn’t fight my sudden blushing, though.

“Well,” Olive stated. “I certainly hope Sir Chintzendale makes it out of there in one piece.”

No one laughed, and I couldn’t quite look up high enough to see any of the minotaurs’ expressions.

Another sound came from the washroom, but this time it was a throaty gurgle.

My smile melted. I looked to Olive questioningly, and he tilted his head toward the noise. I took the signal and got up from my seat.

I headed to the washroom door and gave a hesitant knock. “Sir Chintz. . . ?” Crap. I still can’t remember his name. As if this wasn’t awkward enough. “Hello?” I asked, a little louder.

There was no answer.

I frowned deeper and knocked more firmly. “Sir Chintz? Are you alright?”

I put my ear to the door to listen. Once I held my breath, I heard more gurgling from inside. “I’m coming in!” I announced.

I tried the doorknob. Locked, of course. Well, what the heck. I am a bodyguard. I get to do these things because it’s my job. Without hesitation I whirled around and gave the door a hard buck. I heard china jingling from the kitchen and the dinner table, but the door held. I tried again.

Before I could try a third time, Elena appeared by my side and held a hand to my wither. She knelt down to the doorknob and poked a thin metal something-or-other into a hold I hadn’t noticed. While she fiddled with it, I turned to look at the dinner table. Everyone there was watching, frozen. I heard the knob click, and I turned back just as Elena was swinging the door open wide.

I felt ice in my blood.

Chintz was sprawled on the floor twitching in front of the toilet, his eyes flickering and his mouth foaming.

Elena sprinted away, leaving me staring into the elegant washroom. She returned a minute—or maybe only a few seconds—later, with a brown canvas bag. I watched as she put a hand to his chin, looking into his eyes.

I jumped as a goat pushed past me, carrying a bowl of yogurt and holding it while Elena spread some on a little plate. It took me a couple heartbeats to make the connection. I. . . I almost ate that, too. So did—

My blood was already filled with ice, but now it froze. I turned back to the table.

Olive Branch met my eyes for a moment, then something in the air broke and he stood up from his seat in a flurry of movement.

Bodyguard.

I flew to his side in an instant, putting a hoof around his withers. I scanned the room.

There was only one wall in the room with windows, the east wall overlooking the street known only as S-2. No buildings near enough to cross from. I’d say there were better ways into the room if someone wanted to enter.

Five doors. One just an archway draped with cloth, to the kitchen. One open to the washroom, no windows. One for the stairs, and one for the elevator. One for the hallway leading to the two bedroom suites.

I realized with a flash of anger at myself that I didn’t know what the kitchen or the suites looked like inside. Why didn’t I think to check all the rooms on the floor? Why hadn’t I checked the whole building, or the others around us?

What kind of a bodyguard am I?

I gave my head a brief shake to clear the moisture from my eyes and the budding despair from my mind, and tried to re-focus.

It was the yogurt. My eyes flashed to the two remaining bowls on the table before me, both untouched. I looked up to the minotaurs standing around the table, as if I was meeting them for the first time all over again.

Paullo looks outraged, but also more than a little worried. Probably not.

Lorco looks confused and frightened. Doubtful.

Inigo looks restless, but also confused. Unlikely.

Duarte looks shocked and very confused. An act?

Either way. . . . “Nobody leaves the floor!” Paullo and Inigo nodded their assurance. Lorco and Duarte simply looked at me, jaws agape.

I glanced to Elena. She was now rummaging through the contents of her canvas bag, and I heard clinking glass corresponding to her movements. Nothing I can do for Chintz right now that she can’t. Still. . . . “How is he?”

Elena didn’t look up. “There was monkey’s hood poison in the yogurt. I can make an antidote with what I have here, and it might be enough to save him. There’s not enough time to move him.”

“Should we get help?”

“No point.”

Right. Then on to the next problem.

Olive shuffled under my protecting hoof. If the assassin is still here, then they know their poison didn’t reach Olive. They might try something else. Stupid! Why didn’t you think about Olive first?

I had to get him safe. I looked around one more time. I didn’t know the chancery well enough to know where to take him. But someone would. Mint Zephyr would. I had to get him— I had to get Plume.

“Olive. Is there an intercom on this floor?”

“I. . . I’m not sure. I don’t remember.”

Suddenly, Elena was at my side again. “There are two. One in each suite, on the office desks.”

“I have an office desk up here, too?” Olive asked quietly, to no one in particular.

I ignored him. Someone would have to go to the suites. Me? I had to stick with Olive, and we weren’t going anywhere alone, or leaving anyone here unsupervised. Everyone was a suspect. Elena?

Everyone is a suspect.

Gah.

I had to trust someone to go and make the call. Elena had already rushed to save Chintz. She had done the most so far out of anyone besides Chintz to dissuade doubt.

Fine. “Elena, go call security.”

She nodded and left without question, leaving me with five frightened politicians, one unconscious fop, and however many goats watching from the kitchen with unreadable expressions. Eight goats. Two per guest.

Someone poisoned the yogurt. But when? Was it meant for everyone, or just Olive? Or all three of us ponies sitting around that bowl?

That bowl.

If the other bowls were safe, that would mean someone added the poison after the yogurt was separated into the serving bowls. If not, then. . . then finding the culprit would be a lot harder.

Elena had identified the poison, using a sample of the yogurt. I had no idea how to use anything in that bag of hers, and I doubted the goats did.

Nothing for it but to wait for her to come back.

Shell Shock, Self-Recrimination, and Soldiering

View Online

Apparently the purview of my position as Olive’s bodyguard didn’t include tampering with evidence; that was a job for the City Guard, as Elena informed me oh-so-curtly when I asked her to test the yogurt bowls for more poison.

I’m no detective; my only job was to stick with Olive Branch and defend him, nothing more. Leave the rest to the ponies and minotaurs who have the training and authority to go out and catch the bad guys. No sense in trying to play offense when I’m on the defending team. Guard the door, guard the pony—that’s why we’re called the “Guard”.

With security alerted, and nothing else immediate to do, I was left alone with my thoughts. Zephyr’s guards didn’t take long to secure the rest of the building, and then it was just silence and shallow breaths until the Minoan authorities arrived.

In the meantime, I fell back on the one job I actually knew.

I guarded the door.

. . . I want a blanket.

The thought came as a surprise to my mind, and I quashed it immediately, as if it might slip out of my mouth and be overheard by the minotaur guards who were now milling around the dinner parlor. They had provided security blankets for Olive and the dinner guests, who were all seated together on the far side of the room, in a corner under a window. It’s one thing to take one if it’s handed to you, but asking for one would be a pretty wimpy thing for a grown mare to do, let alone for a soldier like me.

I apparently didn’t merit inclusion among the victims, so no minotaur came to me with a blanket. In fact, I hadn’t been spoken to or even approached by any of the city guards combing through the scene; just Mint Zephyr. He had taken my report and asked a few questions after talking to the minotaurs himself, all the while with Plume hovering awkwardly behind him and giving me inscrutable looks without meeting my eyes.

I figured the minotaurs regarded me as just another one of Zephyr’s guards, more a part of the scenery than a witness or a potential victim. It made sense, considering how much thought I once spared for the feelings of Equestrian guards before I became one of them. I almost laughed, feeling hollow. Almost nine months now, and I still have to remind myself that I’m a guard, not a civilian.

As I sat on my own padded bench, watching Olive with his awfully secure-looking blanket, he broke off his half-hearted conversation and looked at me from across the room. He raised his eyebrows at me with a faint smile and a deep breath, as if to say, “That sure was crazy, huh?” I just shivered and found I couldn’t look at him anymore.

Unfortunately, that meant I had to acknowledge my companion on the bench, Elena.

We were sitting at opposite ends, almost facing opposite directions, she seemingly doing her best to ignore my presence, same as I was. Her posture was impeccable and her face solemn, eyes closed. She showed no sign that she had noticed me looking her way, which I was really glad of. I wasn’t in any mood for conversation, either—at least, not with her.

Still, I couldn’t completely ignore her, and I couldn’t help suspecting that she was trying hard to ignore me, too. I would have just gotten up to leave, but I really had nowhere at all to go. I. . . wasn’t ready to face Olive just yet.

Urgh. Thinking about the tension just made it worse. I had to say something, I realized, only now I couldn’t think of anything to say. “That sure was crazy, huh?” Yeah, right.

If I had to speak up, it might as well be about something useful. The fact that Elena not only knew enough about poison to save Chintz’s life, but also had everything on hand she needed to do it, was the last straw for me; I didn’t buy Elena’s schtick. There’s no way someone so. . . convenient could actually exist. She knows everything, she’s better at saving Olive’s life than me, and right after we hear so much about how great she is she just shows up out of the blue? No way. I was watching her from now on.

For now, though. . . . “So, what did you say the poison was? Monkey’s Head?”

Elena turned her head to look at me, still expressionless. “Monkey’s Hood. It’s a flower that grows in the Green Valley, east of Minos. The powdered root is one of the oldest poisons known to minotaur-kind. I recognized the symptoms, so it was the first poison I tested for.”

“And you just happened to have the stuff with you to test it and cure it?” I asked, trying not to come off as too suspicious.

She gave a subtle nod. I realized she hadn’t once looked me straight in the eyes. That might be a guilty conscience, or it could just be a servant thing, I guessed. “I keep a supply of enchanted charcoal powder,” she went on, “made in Equestria. It works as a base for a number of antidotes. The rest I can make do with using ordinary kitchen ingredients.”

Seriously? It was pretty obvious I knew nothing about poisons or antidotes, so if Elena was lying to me, she’d know there’s no way I could call her out on it. The smart thing to do would be to ask her to teach me all about it, under the excuse of being a better bodyguard, but I decided it was high time I put a leash on my big mouth and its endless questions before it got too far out of wing. With the election happening tomorrow and everything getting crazier and crazier, I couldn’t afford to spend even a few hours playing in the kitchen with Elena.

And, of course, I didn’t trust her not to take the opportunity to shut me up with some misplaced nightshade or something. “Oh, it was such a terrible accident! I didn’t see what she was doing until it was too late to stop her, and there wasn’t enough oregano in the cupboard to make an antidote! But don’t fret too much, Ambassador. Here, have some of my totally-unsuspicious tea and cheer up!”

“May I ask you a question, Miss Dust?”

“Huh?” I started, looking back up from my hooves to see Elena watching me again, or maybe still. I guess I had just let our last conversation trail off completely. “Oh. Sure,” I said.

Elena pursed her eyebrows curiously. “Do you know how Princess Celestia learned of Ambassador Laurel’s disappearance so quickly? Her message to the embassy was the first indication any of us here had that anything was wrong. Many here are curious how she came to know of it first, before anyone else.”

I blinked. My brain was still in paranoia mode, so I had to clamp down on the automatic internal debate of whether or not it was safe to tell her anything. That’s how we become Plume, by overthinking things.

Besides, it wasn’t my job to think. Apparently.

Once I was back in control of my brain, it took me another moment to shift gears to remember if I even knew the answer to her question. Thankfully, Elena waited patiently for my response, and I totally played it off like I spent the entire pause productively.

“Um. . . . I don’t think I ever heard. Just that she got a tip about it.” I really hoped that wasn’t supposed to be a secret.

I collapsed back into silence. Without the paranoia, it turned out there wasn’t anything to distract me from. . . . Chintz convulsing on the floor. The look of fear in Olive’s eyes. Elena’s cold reminder that my part was over, because I already failed at my one job.

Oh yeah, I was a dumb foal who never thought to check for poison, or even so much as tour Olive’s floor to know where anything is. Instead, I just sat at the table the whole time and chatted like any other dinner guest. Dumb luck had been a better bodyguard to Olive than me, and it could just as easily betray him next time.

Next time. . . .

I squinted hard, and quickly and casually rubbed my eyes. I realized I couldn’t remember if Elena had said anything more after I last spoke. I went on not looking up at her, though. Whether she was already done talking or she got the hint, either way I wouldn’t have to face her. We could both go on pretending I hadn’t come so close to crying.

Some ponies, however, are better at picking up hints than others. A familiar ache in my spine coincided perfectly with the arrival of Corporal Plumage, approaching from an angle that bothered me, somehow. “You doing alright?” he asked.

I felt an urge to snap at him, but after a glance at his blank, insufferably innocent expression, I realized there wasn’t anything there to snap at. No pity or concern, only mild curiosity; not quite impatience for the niceties to be over, but almost. I sighed and slumped back into a slouch. He wasn’t worth the effort. Plume may have the worst timing and judgment for a situation like this, but I’ll admit, I was glad it was him and not Olive, or even anyone else. Plume’s complete lack of social sensitivity was exactly what I needed right now.

That emotional rebound gave me the opportunity I needed to take a deep breath and re-focus my thoughts. I looked up at Plume, just for an instant. “Yeah. I just have to. . . .” I trailed off as my search for something to say came up short. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Elena back in her patient repose, apparently ignoring us. “. . .I need to stand up and get moving.” I tipped forward off the bench to land on my hooves, and trotted away past Plume, who gave me a funny look before following alongside me.

We passed the kitchen, where I glimpsed the dinner guests’ goats packed together under the watchful eyes of two minotaur guards in their ear-curtain things, with their iron clubs slung from colored sashes around their waists. Next to the kitchen doorway, Mint Zephyr and another embassy guard were wrapping up a conversation with another minotaur in a fancier sash. I met Zephyr’s eyes as I kept on walking past him. “Not quite your show yet, I guess?” I asked Plume.

His posture slumped a little as he walked. “I still don’t even know how I’m supposed to fit into anything. Mint Zephyr’s a lieutenant, and I’m just a corporal. I’ve barely met any of the ponies I’m supposed to be leading now, and I have no leadership training or experience, so he’s still going to be running everything, even if it’s through me. We figure, for now, I’ll just sit in on meetings and he’ll run his decisions by me. There’s absolutely no procedure for something like this! We haven’t even figured out which one of us is supposed to sign the paperwork, since he’s still the senior officer. It’s a good thing no one died at this dinner, or we might have had a real problem with the reports!”

I shot Plume a mean look while he wasn’t looking. Ah, feeling annoyed with Plume. There’s a feeling I know how to deal with. It really was almost therapeutic, in a strange way. That said, I was a bit bewildered by his outpouring of emotions. I had never known him to express himself this much, and it was slightly off-putting. He really likes to bottle this stuff all up, doesn’t he?

My frown turned more contemplative. He was looking back over his shoulder at the lieutenant, who was supervising while minotaurs crated up bowls of yogurt. I noticed that we had both slowed down a bit, so I picked up the pace again, and Plume hurried to follow when he noticed the change. I really didn’t have anywhere in mind to go, and I didn’t think the minotaurs wanted us leaving, but I needed to get away from Elena and my own thoughts for a bit.

“I was worried about how he would take it, having to answer to a corporal,” Plume went on, hardly checking if I was even listening. “He just rolled with it, all business and setting out what needs to be done. Under the surface, though, he’s got to be frustrated about it, right? He’s just a career officer who’s too professional to let it show. I know he’s confused, though. There are so many ways this whole thing doesn’t make any sense.”

Suddenly, he let out an exasperated grunt. “I hate this! I can’t be a real guard because I’m stuck as a figurehead, just following the lieutenant around and sometimes pretending that I’m in charge!”

I gave a wan smile, looking away. It was weirdly gratifying to think about someone else’s troubles, instead of my own. “Thinking you’re important but finding out you’re really not? I think it’s starting to become a theme.”

Plume grimaced. “I’m sure it’s all meant to train me to lead later on or something. But why he couldn’t just send me back for real officer training, or, hay, just leave me in Canterlot and pick an actual officer to come here instead. . . . It’s just—Why am I even here? None of it’s logical, unless there’s a lot more going on here than I can realistically imagine.”

“You were probably right on the first one,” I said with a shrug. “Olive’s just wise and all-knowing, and he has some big master plan that involves you taking a crash course in wearing the commander’s hat. I think you’re worrying too much; unless Olive is just plain crazy, he picked you for a good reason. It’s just too much for our small minds to comprehend. We get enough to worry about just trying to do our jobs, anyway.”

Oh look, there are those worries about my job again. I started pacing even faster, and Plume fell behind for a moment before catching up again, looking bemused for a brief moment at my sudden rush. I was starting to feel the same way about this walk I was leading us on, to be perfectly honest; there really wasn’t all that much in the way of open space for us to walk through, and I was noticing more and more looks our way as we passed various knots of minotaurs and ponies. I supposed I should probably ask someone in charge if we were free to go, but I really didn’t feel comfortable leaving Olive behind right now.

While I was busy trying to plan a route through the room that didn’t make us look like idiots with nothing better to do, Plume was just watching the floor in front of him, seemingly sunk deep in thought. As we walked past Olive for the second time, however, Plume leaned in and spoke softly. “. . .Do you ever think he might be?” he asked seriously.

“Huh?” Our conversation was already completely out of my mind.

“Olive Branch,” Plume clarified, eyes shifting around. “Do you ever wonder if he really knows what he’s doing with things like this? Like putting me in charge?”

“You kidding?” I frowned, first in scorn, but then in thought. My immediate reflex had been to defend Olive, but when I thought about it, I realized I had never really been given much reason to do so. Sure, I had already been through a lot with him, even in just a week, but I couldn’t say I really knew him, especially as a professional and a leader over more than just me and Plume. All his decisions had worked out when it was just the three of us flying to Minos, but that really wasn’t enough to earn the quick trust for him that I had just felt flaring up. What if he wasn’t actually some kind of genius? What if he was capable of making dumb decisions?

Plume went on, seeing that I had doubts. “I don’t mean that he’s, like, diagnosable with something. But. . . sometimes I have to wonder if his. . . eccentricity runs a lot deeper than we thought. Like, why do you think he put me in charge before we were even in the elevator? He didn’t know anything about Lieutenant Zephyr or the rest of his security here when he gave the order to have him replaced. I’ve been trying all day to think of secret reasons he might have, what this might do for his ‘master plan’, but it still all boils down to two possibilities: either the question of who’s in charge just isn’t important to him and it doesn’t matter if I’m a good choice or not, or it all came down to the fact that he knows me, and he doesn’t know Mint Zephyr. If that’s true, then he either doesn’t trust anyone who was on staff here when the old ambassador died, or he just hates working with strangers or something. Or I guess he might actually see me as some kind of ‘chosen one’, destined to lead embassy security to greatness.”

“The Princess trusts him,” I pointed out, trying not to open the can of worms that was the mostly-redundant letter she wrote to Olive earlier this afternoon. If I started doubting the Princesses, where would it stop?

“Maybe she doesn’t really know him. I don’t know!” Plume stopped and turned to face me, and I stopped as well. “I’m not trying to convince you or anything; I really don’t know what to think! I’m terrible at this stuff! Part of me is sure that Lieutenant Zephyr is having these thoughts, but I’m always afraid that I’m wrong about people, and this time it’s too important to just ignore. I want to know if you see anything in this, too, or if I’m just imagining things. What do you think?”

I recoiled a little from Plume’s sudden earnestness. No one had ever looked to me for advice or affirmation like this before, except for flying tips, maybe. I really wasn’t sure how to handle it. So I just stood there blinking at him for a bit, hoping my brain would start moving again sometime soon.

I was bailed out, however, by the arrival of Inigo Navarro, the merchant with the adventure stories. He came up behind Plume, his security blanket discarded somewhere. “Corporal Dust?” he asked.

Even watching him approach, I was still startled by the address. “Yes?” Plume seemed to be a bit startled, too, his head whipping around to look up as Inigo stepped past him.

“I wanted to express my appreciation for your quick action earlier tonight,” Inigo continued. He stepped past Plume and extended a hand towards my face, palm open to the side and fingers all pointing at me.

I stared at his hand, completely at a loss for what it meant. Maybe it was a hoofshake? Hesitantly, I extended a hoof, and was mildly relieved but still a little uncomfortable when he grasped it with his hand and gave it a little downwards bob. “Who knows how things might have gone if you hadn’t taken charge of the situation?” he said.

I started to stammer incoherently. For some reason, the idea that someone might thank me for what just happened filled me with panic. Behind Inigo, Plume was watching the two of us silently, looking slightly wrongfooted. Finally, I managed to get out, “Um. . . . Thanks and all, but. . . if I had really been doing my job, I would’ve caught the poisoner before they ever got to the dinner.”

Inigo waved a hand in dismissal. “Nonsense. If that blame belongs to anyone, it’s to our own constabulary,” he said, tilting his head towards a pack of minotaur guards to his right. He eyed them, and lowered his voice just a bit. “They had to have been aware of the ongoing threat of danger to the Equestrian Embassy.” He narrowed his eyes at the guards. “Don’t you feel guilty, lass.”

I was still busy flushing from shame, so I wasn’t really paying attention, and I didn’t notice that Plume had re-inserted himself into conversation until he spoke. “You think they knew something about this and didn’t stop it?” he asked Inigo, who seemed somewhat surprised at his presence.

Inigo held up a hand. “I didn’t say that. What I mean is that if they had half the honor you Equestrian guards do, they should step up to protect the ambassador just as eagerly. Instead, they ignored you until they got they were directly summoned.”

Paying attention again, my eyes wandered back to the pack of Minoan guards gathered around the dinner table. Can we not even trust guards here? I spared another glance for Plume, who was glaring sullenly at the same minotaurs. Absently, he raised a hoof to adjust the fit of his helmet.

Gradually, I became aware of Inigo watching us with a small smile. I looked up at him with some indignation. “What?”

“Sorry, lass. I was just thinking about how nice a place Equestria really is.” Behind him, Plume turned his attention back to us. “Living there, you never have to worry about keeping your trading partners happy, and you never imagine that a fellow wearing a uniform may not be living up to it. I imagine it’s easy to see the best in folks when you’re used to everyone being friendly. A lot of creatures out here envy you for that life, you know.”

I frowned. “Creatures like Gonzalo, or everyone else?” I asked in a measured tone, and Inigo frowned back, but Plume just raised an eyebrow at me quizzically. He’s probably wondering why the mood just shifted.

After staring me down for a few heartbeats, Inigo shook his head. “I couldn’t tell you, myself. If a bull like him held such feelings, I’m sure I wouldn’t hear about it. Mind who you’re so bold with, though, lass. We minotaurs aren’t accustomed to voicing our true thoughts so directly. You’ll likely make more enemies than friends talking like that. Just a word of advice.”

With that, he turned and left, only to be replaced by Lieutenant Zephyr, walking up from behind. “The minotaurs are done here,” he said, talking to me as much as to Plume. “They’ll finish packing up the evidence and then clear out. I’m going to release the guests and the ambassador now. That is, with your permission,” he added with a nod to Plume.

“Yes, s— Uh. . . . Go ahead.” Plume nodded awkwardly back, and the two of them shuffled in place a bit.

Sweet Celestia, the air between them is going to discharge lightning. “So,” I asked, holding back a chuckle, “Who am I supposed to salute in this scenario?”

Plume actually scrunched his nose up in thought, but Mint just rolled his eyes and waved a hoof. “You’re dismissed, Corporal. Report to the ambassador before you go. Check that his quarters are secure, if you want. I— we’ll post some extra night-shifters just to be sure, but you go settle in and rest. You’ve had a long day.”

Don’t I know it. I turned decidedly toward Mint and gave him a salute, offered something between a shrug and a nod to Plume, and went on my way, feeling a little happier just from seeing Plume’s last, miserable expression.

As I walked away, however, some old, I noticed a small, sour feeling in my mind, as if some old, forgotten part of me was offended at something. I examined it more closely, and found it was directed at Zephyr. No . . . not just him; it started when I was talking to Inigo.

He was comforting me like a foal!

Olive noticed my hesitance in approaching him and his minotaur friends, and excused himself to leave them and meet me halfway, his blanket still over his wings. “How’s that for a first day?” he joked with an easy grin.

I rolled my eyes, only taking a little care to hide the gesture and maintain a professional demeanor for everyone else in the room. “The minotaur guards are done, and Lieutenant Zephyr is coming to clear the guests to go home,” I reported.

“Sounds good. Did they find anything useful in their investigation?”

“Not that they shared with me,” I answered. “But then, I’m just the bodyguard, not a detective.”

Olive watched me in silence for a moment, while I looked sullenly elsewhere, before he spoke. “Lightning Dust, I give you my permission to think freely.”

That caused my ears to twitch, and I looked back to see him with a hoof raised as if in benediction, his face a picture of mock solemnity. “. . . Huh?” I replied, full of dignity.

Olive’s hoof dropped back to the floor. “Do you think I made you my bodyguard because you’re big and scary?” he asked. I just blinked at him, speechless. “Believe it or not, but you’re the best mare for the job!”

I had no answer for that. At least, none that I could bring myself to say aloud. My expression must have given my thoughts on that statement away, though, and Olive seemed perfectly happy doing all the talking in that conversation.

“I could tell you why,” he said after that pause, “but you don’t need to hear it. You’re already on the right track; you just need practice.”

We stared each other down for a moment, as around us the dinner guests began to stir and shuffle their way out of the parlor. Olive’s optimism was frustrating!

With an honest-to-Celestia wink, Olive Branch turned away and started trotting down the hall to his apartments. I fell into step behind him, still tongue-tied and internally fuming at his never-ending, condescending, self-righteous optimism. Behind us, the parlor stirred back into activity as all the minotaurs began filing out.

With an abrupt change of tone (and topic), he started speaking again. “They tell me that Chintz will be fine and dandy in a few days. Did you hear?” he asked, twisting his neck to look back at me.

“. . . Yeah,” I grunted. The deputy ambassador had been carted away first thing, but not before he had time to come to and puke his (thankfully-figurative) guts out all over the hardwood floor. Luckily the job of cleaning it up hadn’t fallen to me. I half-expected Elena to see to it, but she actually left it for the embassy’s cleaning staff, after the minotaur investigators got everything they presumably needed from it, I assumed.

“Have you thought of any ideas for the security situation around here?” Olive went on. “Any plans before the election tomorrow?”

I thought of the mental checklist of things that I should have done that had run through my head when Elena was helping Sir Chintzendale. A lot of the time waiting for help to arrive had been spent expanding on that list—anything to avoid facing the roiling wall of emotions left in the dinner’s wake. “Yeah,” I said again, simply. I figured Olive would pick up on all the stuff I left unsaid.

“Well,” Olive said, after allowing enough time for my unspoken elaborations to pass, “tomorrow’s a big day. Don’t forget to rest up. You’re coming with me to the election, and I need you at your best.”

We were at the end of the hall, and he opened the door to his rooms to step inside. He stopped partway, however, and looked me in the eye. He held my gaze for a moment, then sighed. “Plenty of soldiers in the guard were fit to make the flight down here, Dust.” I squinted at him, unsure where he was going with this. “I didn’t want a soldier. And it’s not just me, either—you came highly recommended.”

I stared at him, blinking, struck dumb. Finally, he cracked a tired smile, nodded, and turned back to his room, closing the door behind him. “Goodnight, Lightning Dust.”

Alone in the hall, I stood staring at Olive’s door, my mind a whirlwind. What the hay was that supposed to mean? Recommended?

For a few more moments, I paced agitatedly in front of the door, ranting under my breath with everything that I wanted to say to Olive’s face. Eventually, though, I gave it up, feeling spent. The more I tried to hate Olive Branch, the more it felt like he wasn’t really the one I was angry with, and that wasn’t a line of thought I felt like following any further.

I took a deep, shaky breath, and started heading back to the elevator, forcing myself to think about my security plans. I knew none of it was going to happen, though. Aside from Olive being right about being ready for the election tomorrow, I couldn’t bear the thought of working any more tonight. I wanted nothing more in the world than to curl up under a blanket until this night was over.

By the kitchen, I passed two embassy guards heading the opposite direction, on their way to post outside his door, no doubt, as Zephyr had said. Two more were posted at the elevator doors, and they let me through with no challenge. I kept my face neutral and avoided eye contact until I was through the doors, more from instinct than from the discipline the other guards showed.

When the doors closed behind me, I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. Suddenly, I was fighting back tears.

Pull it together, Lightning! You’re no foal, you’re no wimp. You’re not even a civilian anymore! You don’t cry, and you don’t freeze up and hide from random ponies! You’re better than that. You’re strong. Now get a hold of yourself before those doors open, unless you want the entire security floor to see you crying like a child!

Frantically, I tried to calm my breathing and wipe my face. I could only hope desperately that my eyes weren’t too red as the elevator chimed and the doors slid open.

Of course, the third floor was abuzz with activity, even at this sun-forsaken hour. Security ponies stood whispering in corners and doorways, or else strode down the halls purposefully, some armored and some not.

Without warning, Mint Zephyr rounded a corner ahead of me alongside a sergeant levitating a clipboard, heading swiftly for the elevator I was just exiting. Panicked, I pointedly looked away as he passed, praying he wouldn’t notice the state I was in and not seeing if he even cared.

I made my own way past him through the halls toward my quarters, hoping that I was only imagining the looks coming from every side as I went. I realized briefly that I hadn't seen Plume anywhere in the halls, but dismissed the thought. Small blessings.

I pushed through the door into my room, and froze mid-step as another occupant lifted her head from the bunk on the far wall. Oh, yeah. Bunkmate.

Horseapples.

We locked eyes for one tortuously-long moment in the light of a desk lamp, and I knew she saw the redness of my eyes and face for what they were.

Steeling my expression, I swept over to my own bunk. Whatever. It’s not like I managed to hide it from the whole floor on my way here. I can ignore her, too. She’s no different.

I flung myself into my own bunk on the right, and immediately regretted not stripping off my armor first. Cheeks burning with shame, though, I refused to move again after wrapping myself tightly in the sheets. I could feel her eyes still on me, and the silence was growing tense. We both knew neither of us was going to be sleeping soon.

The armor was growing unbearable, however, so, grudgingly, I began unlatching pieces under the bedcovers, and pushing them out one-by-one over the edge of the bunk with as much dignity as I could muster. The other mare took the hint and stretched over to switch off the light without saying a word, which allowed me to sit up to properly take off the larger pieces of armor under the cover and privacy of darkness.

Finally naked, I flopped back down on the bunk in a more comfortable, sustainable position, then immediately began tossing and turning, wrestling with the sheets that had been mussed by a grown mare in full armor diving into them heedlessly. Finding a passable configuration, I finally settled down to sleep . . . .

. . . Or to be left alone with my thoughts, with no remaining distractions.

What do you think of me now, Spitfire? Huh? Are you impressed?

Remember how many records I broke? Think of how many more I’d beat if I joined the team now! I snorted a laugh under my breath.

The Wonderbolts. The “best of the best”. But at what, exactly? Flying in formations and setting limits, just like everybody else. Just like the Parade Corps, just like the rest of the Royal Guard. Just like the lame-o flight coaches at foal camp, even. Can you imagine me going back to try for the Wonderbolts after all this?

I rolled over to my other side, facing the wall. I don’t even care, I realized. The Wonderbolts just . . . don’t seem important anymore.

I frowned to myself. When did that happen?

I mean . . . I’ve been telling myself that ever since I left, but now it just feels natural to say. I flipped onto my back, staring up at the dark ceiling. It’s not that I care more about this embassy stuff, I thought. It’s not even that I really think they’re somehow beneath me. So what is it?

I didn’t have to look far for that answer. I’m never going to be a pro flyer, I realized with a pang.

A sour feeling crept into my stomach, and my eyes welled up with tears anew. Even if I leave the Guard, it’ll be too late. Oh, I know ponies do go into sports later in life than this, but not the Wonderbolts. They’re flyers for life. Even if I could go home now and get back into shape, though, I don’t think I could try it all again.

I had my one shot, I admitted to myself. And I missed it. I bucked it up. Fumbled it! Let it slip away like an idiot filly dropping her puppy on a cloud and then waiting for it to miraculously pop back out!

I’m an idiot filly, and somehow this whole Minos . . . thing . . . made me accept that my dream is dead!

And that’s why I hate Olive Branch, I reflected, as an afterthought.

The cloud burst, and I started sobbing into my pillow. I heard a rustle from across the small room, as my Earth Pony roommate lifted her head again to look my way. I held my breath, daring her to say something, and praying that she go back to pretending at least one of us was asleep.

After what felt like half an hour, she actually did speak.

“Hey. You’re the one the ambassador picked to be his bodyguard, yeah?”

I didn’t answer. I could get away with ignoring that one.

“Say what you want, but you haven’t let your ambassador die yet.”

She settled back onto her pillow, letting out a ragged, shaky breath.

“That’s more than the rest of us can say.”

Author's Notes:

Well, here we are, three full years after the last published chapter. Anyone still around to follow this thing? Anyone new? Either way, I hope you've gotten through the whole thing up to this point. I put a lot of my own emotion into this chapter, as you can probably tell.

It's strange how our creative outlets reveal more about ourselves than we mean to show, or even know about. If you ever need a clear example of that in action, look at this outdated, preachy little fic; it knew secrets about me years before I did!

Let me elaborate: not long after I posted the chapter before this one, back in summer of 2016, I found out I have Asperger's Syndrome. Not an obvious case of it, mind you, considering I had no clue until I was 23 or so, but it's still a big deal. As I learned more about the condition and noticed more and more of its influence in my life, I looked back on this story and realized something:

Lightning Dust and Plumage both have Asperger's, too.

Dust is totally immersed in her mask, to the point of suffocation. If there's still a real person under there somewhere, it's been a long time since it's shown its face to anyone. Plume is a representation of "aspie arrogance". He doesn't really know himself at all, but refuses to live life under a mask. At the same time, that has become a mask to himself, and he's woefully ignorant about his own faults, convincing himself instead that they're strengths, while not really knowing what personal strength looks like on the metaphorical client-side.

But I don't want to get too much into the symbolism and character arcs, because I still mean to show them in Crisis. That's right, this story isn't dead. It may have been comatose for three years (at least), and I can't promise regular updates, but I fully intend to finish this book (at least), even if it takes me thirty years (it won't).

I need to write this story. That was the next realization, immediately after the first one about Dust and Plume's natures. It took me three years to actually face up to that and make it a commitment, and then actually come back to try writing again, but I actually did it. If you like quick little feel-good stories from real life, here's one for today: my only real goal in life right now is to re-learn how to act for myself, and make my own choices and have my own goals. So what better place to start than the only personal promise I ever really made to myself? This chapter (the second, better half of it, anyway) was written pretty much in one sitting, with not a lot of editing, because I wanted to see if I was still capable of doing that.

Apparently I am. So you can expect more updates in the future. I'm excited to see where this story goes, since my plans for it aren't exactly watertight, and I have no idea where writing it will take me instead.

Another decision I've made is that I'm not doing this for the attention, which I very much was, pretty much since I started writing on this site. Crisis's stats have always been a source of discouragement for me, compared to my other, frankly kinda stupid stories, but what did I expect? I didn't stick with a real release schedule long enough to gain any real traction, and wishful thinking for more attention was holding me back for far too long. That said, it's always nice, when you put this much of yourself into a project for others to see, for others to actually, you know, see it. But even if only two or three people ever read these new chapters, as long as one of those people is me, I want to keep writing.

(Wow, I need to save that line.)

The Minoan Crisis

by Cosmic Cowboy

Prologue - The Loss of the Goldshod

PART 1 - Posts, Plumage, and Performance

Flowers, Fruit Trees, and Fire

"Sir Lance and the Dragon"

"Seagull's Voyage Around the World"

Keep your enemies close, and your friends closer.

PART 2 - Consultation, Coffee, and Clay

Shell Shock, Self-Recrimination, and Soldiering