Casus Foederisby Walt2012ChaptersDinner and a ShowLate Night DrinksMorning ActivitiesManeuversFormal LuncheonA Few Words Over CiderMission BriefingDinner and a ShowCasus Foederis © 2014 by Walter Reimer Chapter 2. “I don’t like it, Reintief.” Mulegan declared. “It could be a trifle sweeter,” Reintief concurred, looking into the depths of his mug. “I don’t mean the cider!” the Third Secretary said peevishly. “And I don’t mean the stuffy air, either.” He looked around the Patriarch’s dining hall at the mixture of kudu and ponies that circulated, making small talk and keeping a diplomatic ear open for any indiscreet comments. Despite the heat and the odors in the room, none of the windows were open. Much smaller pudu scurried about underhoof, making sure that drinks were topped off and plates remained full. “Can’t you feel the tension in the air?” “You mean the way that the Camel Ambassador has been snubbed by the Patriarch?” “Well, yes, and – “ “And the way that the Griffin Charges d’Affaires has been insulted twice by offering him salad instead of his favorite sizzling weasel on a stick?” “Er, yes – “ “And the armed guards – in civilian dress, watching the doors?” “Um – “ “And then there’s Ambassador Gaster.” “Exactly – er, that is,” and Mulegan looked around. “You’re right. Where is the confounded fellow? He’d better not be transformed. It’s a horrible breach of protocol.” “The Changelings never take much stock in protocol,” Reintief pointed out. “But I don’t think the Ambassador’s here.” “Why not?” “Changelings recharge their mana reserves by consuming love and other positive emotions,” Reintief reminded his superior of the briefings everyone in government had received. He gestured at the diplomatic reception as one attaché gave a rather forced Diplomatic Laugh (9-s). “Any Changeling in here would starve immediately.” “I suppose you’re right – but that proves my point!” Mulegan cried. “Despite the possibility of starvation, Gaster’s supposed to be here.” He gave a theatrical shudder. “Much as I hate those sticky-hooved Changelings, they’re still one of the Maker’s creatures – no matter how disgusting they might be.” He shuddered again and twitched his formal early-early-evening cape back into line. His ears perked as another atonal trumpet blast echoed through the room. “Blast! What is it now?” From a side entrance came a female kudu bedecked in even more jewelry than the Patriarch. Her cape was trimmed in silver. The CDE ponies and the kudu in the room all bowed, with the exception of the Patriarch. The woman strode up to Yimbombollabu and slapped him hard across the face with her right hoof. To the gasps of the ponies she bellowed, “Why you not tell me you having dinner?” The Patriarch rubbed his face with his hoof. “You were asleep,” he snorted. “Your Supremacy, who is this impertinent female?” Cross Purposes said indignantly. “What right does she have to intrude on this formal occasion? She looks like a low, common sort with her tatty cape and dreadful costume jewelry.” Yimbombollabu raised one eyebrow. “She my sister, Itchykitchyku.” “And her royalty shines out of her like a beacon,” the unicorn said smoothly. “I am pleased to meet you, Madam.” “Madam! MADAM!? You think I run a joy house in the souks?” “What, what? Of course not!” he sputtered. “And why not?” she said, pawing the floor. “I am known for good business sense!” Her hoof struck sparks against the stone tiles, and Reintief noticed a few of the guards in mufti falling back. “Mr. Mulegan?” “Yes, Reintief?” “You may want to come around to this side of the punchbowl.” The Third Secretary knitted his brow. “Why?” “As you’re no doubt aware from our briefing, the Kudu cannot do magic.” “And quite so,” Mulegan said. “The Patriarch’s little, ahem, display earlier was probably a party trick he does to impress.” Reintief nodded. “So while it may be a simple party trick, you may want to have something between you and the Patriarch’s sister – to avoid getting hit by any flying debris, you understand.” The earth pony blinked at his subordinate before glancing back at the center of attention. The kudu femme kept pawing the floor, raising scarlet sparks. Sparks that were starting to fly and circle around her, faster and faster until they resembled a faintly red dome of light. “Er . . . say! The canapes on that side of the table look quite tasty, Reintief. Move over a bit so I can try a sample.” The larger earth pony obligingly made way for his superior, with both of them keeping at least one eye on things. Mulegan seized a morsel at the end of a toothpick and popped it into his mouth. “I was right,” he said after he had swallowed. “Very tasty.” The spell increased in brightness until Yimbombollabu’s sister activated it by stamping her hoof. The dome of light expanded, growing at an appallingly fast rate, causing the Ambassador and his retinue to fall to the floor, hooves over heads, in an effort to avoid the spell. Interestingly, the light passed over them soundlessly, without ruffling a hair on anyone’s mane. What the spell did do, however, was shatter every window in the place. “There! That better!” Itchykitchyku said happily amid the tinkling sound of falling glass shards. “Room needed fresh air.” “Idiot!” the Patriarch bellowed. “Those windows cost money! That coming out of your allowance!” She gave her brother a gesture with obscure biological implications, stuck out her tongue and blew him a raspberry. “You not boss of me. Tell it to pudu – or to stupid ponies.” She then put her nose in the air and went to one of the buffet tables and proceeded to start piling snacks onto a plate. “You don’t see that every day,” Reintief remarked, then realized that he was talking to empty air. “Mister Mulegan?” The only trace of the sallow-coated Third Secretary was the tip of his tail and the silhouette of his hindquarters as it quivered against the overhang of the tablecloth. Underneath, Mulegan had his forehooves firmly over his head, his teeth chattering like a cheap maraca. He flinched as Reintief eased in beside him under the table, and flinched again when the larger earth pony poked him with a hoof. “Mister Mulegan.” “Is she gone? Are we dead, Reintief?” Mulegan mumbled. “I always expected to go to Elysium – purity of heart, you know – but I didn’t think you’d be here, Reintief. You like strong drink and the delights of the demi-monde too much.” “Guilty on all counts,” Reintief said cheerfully. “But I regret to say that we’re not dead.” “You’re being delusional, Reintief,” the Third Secretary scoffed. “We’re surely dead. You saw that spell the Patriarch’s sister unleashed. I think it happened so fast that we went across the Divide without even knowing it. Once you get used to it, being dead – “ he looked up “ – not all that different, really.” “Mister Mulegan?” “Yes, Reintief?” “It’s said that ponies in Elysium cannot lie and, in fact, are incapable of falsehood.” “Very true, Reintief.” “Then believe me when I tell you that we’re not dead.” He paused to peer out from under the tablecloth. “Although we might be shortly.” “How d’you mean?” “The pudu we’re currently sharing space with.” “Wonderfully egalitarian place, Elysium. So long as there aren’t any Changelings.” “The pudu,” Reintief said patiently, “has a large and rather sharp-looking knife in his hooves.” “What would someone in Elysium need with a knife?” “That further buttresses my argument that we’re not in Elysium, Mister Mulegan. I suppose I should ask him.” “Please do, Reintief. I’ll be right here.” Mulegan hunkered down further, his front hooves more firmly over his eyes. Late Night DrinksCasus Foederis © 2014 by Walter Reimer Chapter 3. Reintief shrugged and crawled toward the pudu. The little antelope crouched a bit at the earth pony’s approach, transferring the knife from his hooves to his mouth. “Hello there,” Reintief whispered affably (747-o). “You might want to be careful with that. You might hurt somebody.” The pudu whispered around the knife, “Zut! Come closer, Pony, and we shall see, hein?” “Okay,” and Reintief lunged. His left forehoof swept down as the cervine lunged at him, pinning the blade against the floor while his right forehoof came down hard on the back of the pudu’s head. He had moved so quickly that the clatter of the blade striking the floor could easily have been mistaken for another shard of glass falling from the windows. “See what I mean? You can get hurt playing with knives.” “Let go of me, pony – urgh . . . “ The diminutive antelope groaned softly as Reintief applied a bit of weight to his right forehoof. “What you want?” “You might start by telling me what you plan on doing with that knife.” When the pudu hesitated, Reintief applied a bit of pressure. “What iz ze use,” the pudu said with a sigh. “I am to die anyway, zo go ahead, Pony. My only regret iz zat I will be unable to strike a blow against our oppressors.” “Oppressors? Details, please.” “Alors, you Ponies do not know.” The pudu slumped a bit further. “Zis used to be ze pudu’s country. Zenturies ago, ze Kudu came with zeir magic. Ever since, Pudu have been ze slaves. I am here – “ “Shh,” Reintief said, shushing him as a pair of large ungulate hooves appeared. From their relative daintiness, he surmised that they belonged to the Supreme Patriarch’s sister. She must still be grazing around the buffet tables. The hooves scraped against the floor. “What smell bad?” Itchykitchykoo demanded, sniffing loudly. She abruptly poked her head under the tablecloth. “What this? Stupid pony and stupider pudu?” “I’m very sorry,” Reintief said. “I dropped a knife and we both went to retrieve it.” She snorted. “Get out. Me no want to see stupid pony – OR stupider pudu.” Reintief dragged the pudu out from under the table and urged him along to the kitchens at the back of the banqueting hall. Behind them, there was an anguished yelp as the Kudu kicked Mulegan out from under the table. “Mulegan!” the Ambassador shouted. “What the blazes were you doing under that table?” “I’m starting to think that Reintief was right . . . “ the Third Secretary muttered as the kitchen doors closed. The doors served to muffle the sounds of Ambassadorial rage directed at the hapless Mulegan. The kitchen was full of the noise of pots and pans, with several dozen pudu preparing dishes or washing up. A few stared curiously at the two newcomers, and Reintief hustled his companion off to one side by the walk-in refrigerator. “Now, before we get interrupted again, what are you here for?” The pudu drew himself up to his full height, his head just making it to Reintief’s shoulder. “I am here for ze Puduvanian Liberation Front. I was going to assassinate ze Supreme Patriarch, that poseur, but you caught me.” He sagged again. “Nothing matters now. You will now give me over to ze Kudu, and zey will execute me.” “Let’s hold that thought for a moment. You say that this was your country?” “Oui. Maybe two centuries ago, ze Pudu were free, but a zentury ago zose Kudu came. We had no magic, zo we became zeir slaves,” the fellow said with a philosophical shrug. “And now you plan to rise up?” The pudu nodded miserably. “Eet will be of no use, though. Ze Kudu, zey have ze magics, and we do not.” “Have you asked for help?” “Zat eez eempossible,” the pudu said, his Equestrian marred by his native accent. “Ze Equestrians talk to ze Kudu, not to us.” He cocked his head, looking up at Reintief. “You are ze first Pony to speak to me – other than to give me orders.” “I have a soft spot in my heart,” Reintief remarked. He leaned in and asked quietly, “I’d like to speak with your leader. Attempts like yours will only harden the Kudu, and the Ambassador is a firm believer in collective action.” “Ze Ambassador is a friendly sort, hein?” “Not really. He believes in collective action because it helps him to spread the blame around.” Reintief sat on his haunches and regarded the small knife-wielder. “Can you get me an interview with your leader?” The little fellow scratched under his chin with one hoof as he thought it over, and finally nodded. “I will have to speak to him. Meet me at ze corner of Antimony and Fifth Streets, zouth of where your ship iz docked, at midnight.” “Till midnight, then. I’m Reintief.” “I am called Muerte.” The two parted ways, and Reintief slipped out of the kitchen. “There you are, Reintief!” Mulegan cried as the earth pony reappeared. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” “Sorry, Mister Mulegan. I was looking for a bathroom. Anything wrong?” “Wrong? Wrong! His Excellency is in a towering pet, all directed at you, for consorting with a pudu in front of the Supreme Patriarch and his sister.” The Third Secretary looked around and dropped his voice. “I’ve tried to deflect most of his rage, but he’s ordered you back to the Embassy at once.” Reintief nodded. “I’d best be going, then. Still convinced we’re in Elysium, Mister Mulegan?” “Not any longer, Reintief. For a brief moment while Ambassador Cross Purposes was talking, I thought I might be in Tartarus.” “Here’s hoping you get things sorted out, then,” and Reintief headed for the door. Before he left, however, he was confronted by Colonel Mess Kit. The pegasus’ wings were fluttering agitatedly as he said, “See here, young fellow! You’d best go straight back to the boat. His Nibs has ordered you belowdecks and confined to quarters until after this mission’s over.” “Thank you, Colonel. Story of my life,” and with that the earth pony left the banquet hall. Later that night bells chimed the hour before midnight, and Reintief slipped out of the window of his cabin, hooves clinging precariously to the ledge ten feet above the waters of the harbor. He balanced briefly, then leaped upward, forehooves hooking around a railing and slowly pulling himself up. “Reintief?” His ears flicked at Mulegan’s hissed voice. “Where are you – Reintief!” The earth pony looked down to see his superior gaping up at him. “What are you doing up there? You’re confined to quarters!” “I got restless, Mister Mulegan. Cabin fever, you know. My doctor always prescribes a nice long walk for it.” “Ah, a medical issue, then? Well, I suppose I can – hey!” Reintief looked back down and Mulegan asked, “Where are you going?” “Not quite sure. I’ll let you know,” and Reintief hauled himself over the railing and onto the deck. Apart from one uninterested-looking pudu, the deck was deserted. Two kudu guards lounged at the dock end of the gangplank, forelegs casually draped around wicked-looking spears. As the pony’s hooves sounded on the gangplank, the two guards perked up and whirled, spears at the ready. “Here! Where stupid pony go?” “Not quite sure, but I know where you’re going.” Reintief brought his left forehoof around, knocking one guard’s spear aside so that the point jammed into a plank. He used his momentum to pivot to his right and kicked out with his rear hooves, sending the surprised guard hurtling into the water. The first guard managed to yank his spear out of the wood and jabbed at Reintief, who let the shaft pass him then caught the middle of the slender shaft in his teeth. A bite down and twist, and the spear broke in half. The guard gaped at his damaged weapon in time to join his compatriot, propelled by a hard kick to the face. Reintief shook out his mane and stepped onto the wharf. “Pity. Bad weather for a swim.” Apart from a few taverns, the city was quiet as the earth pony made his way to the appointed corner, arriving at the right intersection just as the bells sounded midnight. “Psst.” “Muerte?” “Ze same, Reintief.” The pudu stepped out of the shadows. “My cell leader has decided to talk with you. Follow me.” He slipped back into the darkness, with Reintief trailing behind him. A small door, sized for pudu, came into view. “You will have to, how you say, crouch down.” “No problem. We diplomats are trained to crawl,” and Reintief lowered himself to his belly before following Muerte into the building. It was a tavern, the air inside redolent with the smells of native cooking and stale spilled liquor. A few pudu at a table lowered their mugs and chorused, “Morty!” “Zat is Muerte, you drunken Diamond Dogs,” Muerte grumbled. “Here he iz, Boss. Reintief, zis iz Fausti.” He gestured at the bar with a cloven hoof. At first, Reintief didn’t see anyone. Finally he noticed two dainty hooves on the bar on either side of a small muzzle with two nubby horns. “So, you are the pony who wants to see Fausti,” the fellow said in a quiet, breathy voice. “Name’s Reintief.” The pudu’s expression grew crafty. “Perhaps Reintief would like a drink, hein?” Reintief smiled. “I am a bit thirsty, at that.” “Give him ze Special, Fausti,” an onlooker called out. “That sounds tempting,” the earth pony said. “One Special, please.” Fausti’s head and hooves disappeared behind the bar and for a moment there were sounds of activity. Something was being chopped, other things were being poured, and at one point there was a loud pop! and a cloud of vapor smelling of acetone and pineapple wafted up. After several more moments a pony-sized mug was lifted onto the bar, with Fausti’s dainty little hooves tapping on the countertop. “Ze Special.” “Thank you.” Reintief pulled the mug toward him and sniffed. The drink smelled of kiwi, lime, and pineapple, and fizzed slightly. He glanced around and saw the rest of the patrons watching him closely. He raised the mug to Fausti. “To the Revolution’s success,” and drank, first taking a small swallow and sampling the tastes before drinking more deeply. “Hmm. It’s not Griffin aqua ardente, but it’s quite passable.” “You impress Fausti,” the little antelope said. “We talk, hein? Ponies help pudu, yes?” “Perhaps. Ponies will not help the pudu if they assassinate the Supreme Patriarch, though.” “Pfui,” Fausti spat. “We are oppressed minority – “ “The Princesses might bring pressure to bear on the Kudu on your behalf, but only if you avoid violent actions,” Reintief said. “They believe in Harmony, you see.” “Zo, what iz to be done, Reintief?” The earth pony briefly outlined a course of action, between sips of his tankard. “So, what do you think?” A pair of small hooves drummed on the bar. “I will talk to the Zentral Committee.” “Good.” He slid the tankard back to Fausti. “I’ll have another, please.” An hour later, Reintief low-crawled out of the bar, straightened up and worked out the kinks in his back and legs before trotting back to the harbor. Three blocks from the waterfront district he saw something stir in the shadows, and a kudu stepped out to bar his way. “Vile pony,” he hissed. Morning ActivitiesCasus Foederis © 2014 by Walter Reimer Chapter 4. Reintief looked the kudu over as it stepped further into the dim glow of a nearby streetlamp. “Hello there. Nice night for it, eh?” “You are not welcome in Kuduvania,” the kudu declared. The horned antelope gave his head a toss that Reintief correctly interpreted as a textbook 8-k (Right This Way, Boss). Another, slightly larger kudu stepped out as the first one said, “You ponies will not intervene.” The earth pony looked them both over and remarked, “One might say the same about the two of you.” “What – er, what pony mean? We are Kudu.” “No, you’re not,” Reintief shook his head. “I’d wager a case of Dionysus Dark Premium Hard Cider that you – “ he pointed at the first kudu “ – are Lieutenant Mandible, which makes you Captain Thorax.” He gestured at the second kudu. “I’m not going to ask where Ambassador Gaster is. I know he likes his beauty sleep.” The kudu gave him a puzzled look, and a gout of magical green flames erupted from his horns. When the flash subsided, the tall antelope was replaced by a slightly fatter-than-normal Changeling, his chitin freshly polished and sporting the three pips of a staff officer. “Curses, Reintief! How did you know?” “You still haven’t mastered the trick of impersonating non-equine legs, Mandible. You always end up looking bow-legged and knock-kneed simultaneously.” “Drat. Still, what makes you think this is Captain Thorax?” “Simple. After his demotion, Queen Chrysalis had Foreign Minister Pronotum assign you as his keeper. He never goes anywhere without you.” Another wash of green magic, and the second kudu was replaced by another Changeling, this one with a slighter, more spindly-legged build, and the chrome inlays of a field-grade officer. “And don’t think I have forgotten your perfidy in my downfall, Reintief.” “It was your idea to sell your Queen on the notion that invading Canterlot would topple the entire Equestrian government,” Reintief said, “not me. So, what brings two officers of the Changeling Intelligence Agency to Kuduvania?” Thorax waved a perforated hoof in a tut-tutting (96-a) motion. “Now now, Reintief, you know that’s not how the game is played. Changelings by their nature play ‘em close to the chest. And as for Ambassador Gaster, that greedy old grub is, as you have perspicaciously indicated, probably fast asleep, leaving us poor toilers in the pod chamber to stay up all night.” “Uh-huh. So he gave the reception tonight a miss just to get some sleep?” “Exactly,” Mandible said smugly. “You’ll forgive me, of course, if I don’t believe you.” Thorax bared his fangs in a grin. “That, too, is part of the game. You distrust me, I toy with you, you guess and run about, I gloat over you – “ “I win.” “You win – hey!” “So just between us beings of the world, why not spill the beans now, and save Equestria the trouble of having to teach you all a lesson. Again.” “You didn’t teach us a lesson. We lost through Equestrian perfidy!” Thorax suddenly screeched. “Our beloved Queen was many months getting her strength back, with the healthier members of the Hive waiting on her palp and hoof. We – “ His voice became muffled as Mandible shoved both forehooves in his superior officer’s mouth. “You’ll have to forgive him. Ever since Princess Cadence – “ Thorax gave vent to another screech, which caused a light to come on in one of the nearby buildings. A sleepy, querulous voice yelled in Kudu that whoever was torturing the cat needed to wait until after the sun was up. A window slammed shut and the light went out again. “Phew,” Mandible remarked as the pony and the two insectoids emerged from the shadows. “That was close.” “Ever since Princess Cadence what?” Reintief prompted, causing Thorax to writhe in Mandible’s grasp. “Ever since she and her husband expelled the Swarm,” Mandible said, struggling with his captain, “his self-confidence was completely shot, poor fellow. As you know, he was the principal strategist on Her Majesty’s staff – “ he lost the battle to keep Thorax quiet and the captain clapped his hooves over his ears. “I told you never to say her name again!” Thorax hissed. “Why not peel my chitin back and pour in some nice lemon juice while you’re at it?” Mandible whispered, “Cadence!” “Ahhh!” Thorax started to stagger away, his lieutenant in hot pursuit. “Cadence!” “AHHH!” More lights started to come on. “Cadence!” “I’m not listening!” “CADENCE!” Mandible shouted, a glow of magic transforming him into a familiar pink alicorn. “CadenceCadenceCadenceCadenceCadenceCadenceCadenceCadence!” The duo stormed off down the alleyways, accompanied by the shouts of awakened sleepers and the clatter of overturned trash cans. After a while, the echoes of screaming and banging died away, leaving the neighborhood silent once again. Reintief headed back to the wharf, finding no sign of the guards he’d knocked into the water. “Must’ve gone for a moonlight swim,” he mused. The next day the capital was decorated with two sets of banners, the flag of Kuduvania hoisted higher than the banner of the Camel Sultanates. The populace was turned out in their best, but the cheering was desultory and the crowd’s mood left something to be desired. “Things seem a bit tense, Reintief,” Mulegan remarked as he fidgeted with his formal mid-semi-morning cloak. The earth pony nodded. “If the atmosphere were any more poisonous, I’d suggest ordering in a crew of pegasi to clear the air. A nice typhoon might do the trick.” “I heard that!” and Reintief was confronted by Ambassador Cross Purposes himself. Mulegan eeped and somehow managed to duck under Colonel Mess Kit. The unicorn had to tip his head back to glare straight at Reintief’s face. “Your reputation in some of the most historic incidents in the CDE’s copybook is well-known to me, Reintief! I don’t know how you ended up in this mission, but one hoof out of line and you’ll spend the entire time in your quarters! Do you understand me?” “Clearly, Your Excellency. But – “ “But? But what?” “I wish to respectfully point out to Your Excellency that Sultan Shaykh an-Baykh and his retinue are arriving.” “Whatwhatwhatwhat?” The Ambassador whirled, wide-eyed, and the staff scattered as he galloped forward to take his place in the receiving line. The unicorn pulled to a stop and nearly wilted from Supreme Patriarch Yimbombollabu’s angry snort. His sister, Itchykitchykoo, merely sniffed at him disdainfully. Trumpets sounded and the kudu guards straightened as an honor guard of camels in flowing robes marched up the street toward them. Trailing behind the guard was a massive bull camel in ornate gold-embroidered silk robes. Gold ornaments gleamed on his ears and his hump as he nodded and smiled to the largely quiet crowd. As he drew near the dais where the Patriarch, his sister, and the Equestrian diplomats were standing, his booming laugh and equally resounding voice could be heard. “Ho ho! Greetings, one and all! Greetings from Shaykh an-Baykh, and from all who live in the Sultanates! Ho ho!” Retainers scattered rose petals and silver coins in his path, but no one dared move past the lines of guards to gather up the money. Finally he stopped in front of the dais, and bowed with a flourish of his long neck. “Shaykh an-Baykh, on behalf of the Camels, Sultan and Keeper of the Sands, greets his brother monarch Yimbombollabu, Supreme Patriarch of the Kudu.” Yimbombollabu inclined his head graciously, a sneer contorting his muzzle in Obvious Malevolent Pleasure (27-b). “Kill him.” ManeuversCasus Foederis © 2014 by Walter Reimer Chapter 5. “How WUDE!” the Equestrian Magitechnical Attache exclaimed as the Kudu guards leveled spears toward the Sultan. “Quiet, Bell Jar,” Colonel Mess Kit hissed, “or we’ll get spitted too.” The pegasus looked to be about two seconds from flying away as fast as his wings could carry him. “Just you watch, though. Old Cross Purposes will get this sorted out, you’ll see.” The Ambassador had shied backward perhaps a dozen steps at the Patriarch’s order. Now, he lurched forward the same distance to stand beside the Kudu leader. “Ahem, Supreme Patriarch?” The antelope turned to glare at the unicorn, who flinched just a bit. Sparks Jacob’s Laddered their way up and down his horns as he growled, “What stupid pony want?” “Er, that is to say, ah, that the Diarchy of Equestria will not . . . tolerate . . . “ His voice trailed off to inaudibility as he wilted like a rose in a bonfire under the Supreme Patriarch’s glare. Yimbombollabu snorted contemptuously (401-k), muttered, “Stupid pony,” and addressed his intended victim. “Shaykh an-Baykh, prepare to die.” His guards readied their spears, their horns already sparking malevolently. A few of the kudu in the crowd had ventured out behind the Camel procession to gather up the coins and gems scattered in the Sultan’s wake. Aside from that, the plaza was silent. The Camel suddenly laughed out loud (133-t) and scuffed a cloud of sand and dust into the air. “Yimbombollabu, your troops are formidable, yes? But is your magic?” A sudden bolt of electric blue erupted between the Patriarch’s horns, only to meet the glittering shield of sand and dust and dispel itself harmlessly. The Kudu snorted again, unimpressed. “You outnumbered, Camel. I take your head, decorate throne with it.” His sister looked bored and wandered off to sit with her ladies-in-waiting a short distance away. “Now you and all stupid Camels die – “ “Now, see here!” and both erstwhile combatants paused as Ambassador Cross Purposes stepped out to stand between the Patriarch and the Sultan. “Equestria will not stand for any war between the Kudu and the Camels!” “Why not?” the Sultan asked. Bits of stucco and adobe ripped away from nearby buildings and formed themselves into a small force of quadrupedal golems, increasing the number of Camel guards to equal their adversary’s numbers. “How - ?” Mulegan gasped. “Camel magic can shape and manipulate sand and dust,” Reintief said. “And since adobe and stucco are made of sand – “ “They could turn the whole city against us!” Mulegan whimpered. “For the love of Celestia, do something, Reintief!” “Why . . . well, it’s immoral, it’s detrimental, it – it’s – it’s not harmonious,” the unicorn stammered to a stop and looked back and forth at the two rulers. “Um . . . “ “What His Excellency is attempting to say,” Reintief said as the earth pony stepped forward, “Is that Equestria would not look favorably upon warfare between the Camel Sultanates and Kuduvania.” “Then why doesn’t the idiot say so?” Shaykh an-Baykh demanded. Reintief smiled. “The Ambassador is naturally self-effacing. One might say he was modest to a fault. However, the Ambassador makes a good point. The Diarchy would deplore any hostilities between their good friends, and as we are all intelligent and mature beings here – “ “Kill him,” Yimbombollabu growled, and one of the guards lowered his spear and charged at Reintief. Cross Purposes whinnied in fright and cowered as the earth pony stood his ground until the spear almost touched him, then sidestepped it, seizing the shaft in the hollow under his right foreleg. He pivoted and drove the point into the pavement, eliciting a startled cry from the guard as the kudu sailed straight over the Sultan. The impromptu pole vaulter landed on the opposite side of the street on top of several onlookers. From the sounds of the scuffle, they were none too pleased with his gymnastic form. Reintief twirled the spear and brought the butt to rest on the pavement. “As I was saying, as we’re all intelligent and mature beings here, I’m sure that some equitable arrangement can be worked out.” Shaykh an-Baykh laughed. “I like you, Pony! I think I’ll save you for an equine sacrifice to Baron Sandy after I defeat this two-horned nuisance.” Reintief said nothing, but instead started to whistle. It was a soft, dirgelike tune that sounded vaguely familiar to the ponies and completely unknown to the Kudu. The Sultan, however, stiffened as tears began to well up in his eyes. His retainers almost dropped the magically-infused shield, one or two starting to openly sob. “What in Celestia’s Name - ?” Cross Purposes said. “Reintief! Whatever in blazes you’re whistling, stop it! It’s irritating the Sultan!” The earth pony obligingly stopped. “As you wish, Your Excellency.” “Exactly. What was that tune, by the way?” “It’s an old Camel ballad, The Battle of Akh-ni.” Reintief glanced at the Sultan. “Every Camel learns it in school.” “What’s it about?” Cross Purposes asked, Interested Against His Will (800-b). Shaykh an-Baykh pulled himself together with a visible effort and replied, “In the days before Nightmare Moon, Princess Luna led the armies of Equestria against the Camels at Akh-ni. By the time she was done, we offered to sacrifice our own leaders to her to make her stop.” “Goodness,” Mulegan interjected. “But surely that’s just a legend? It was over a thousand years ago – “ “No, it’s all true,” Reintief assured him. “Ask the Princess sometime, if you see her. She’s still very proud of it.” Before either the Ambassador or Mulegan could respond, Itchykitchykoo walked over to her brother. “What you wait for?” she demanded. “Kill him!” “Silence. Him have magic – “ She brought a hoof to the side of his head. “And what have you got? Chopped hay? Fry Camel Sultan like plantain, or we invite him to eat dinner.” She squinted up at the Sultan’s retinue. “They eat us out of house and home, I thinking.” She leveled an accusing hoof at the box one attendant had placed on the pavement. “What that?” “Is a box,” Yimbombollabu said. That earned him another hoof to his head. “Idiot! I see that! What inbox?” Her brother snorted at her. “Go ask, maybe die with Camels and stupid Ponies.” She gave him a disdainful snort and stepped forward. “Hey, humpback!” Itchykitchykoo yelled. “What that in box?” “This?” A thin tendril of magic coiled around the box like a snake, unlatched the box and opened it. “Just a pretty trinket,” the Sultan said as the tendril lifted an exquisitely-crafted gold chain necklace from the casket. A pendant of two sapphires flanking a ruby caught the rays of the sun as Shaykh an-Baykh brought it before the Patriarch’s sister. “Pretty, isn’t it?” The Kudu’s eyes went as round as saucers as she gazed at the necklace. “Very pretty.” “Then it’s yours,” and the necklace drifted higher and settled around her neck. “Hah!” Yimbombollabu snorted. “You try bribe my sister to save your miserable life, Sultan? You shall die before the – “ Itchykitchykoo whirled and stuffed a hoof in his mouth. “SHUT. UP. YOU. MOUTH!" Author's Note Yes, I'm writing this again. I regret nothing. Formal LuncheonCasus Foederis © 2014 by Walter Reimer Chapter 6. “Heavens, Reintief,” Mulegan said breathlessly, looking around the banquet hall as silent pudu servitors delivered meals to the assembled dignitaries. The Supreme Patriarch and his sister were on one side of the hall, Yimbombollabu studiously ignoring his guests while Itchykitchyku alternately admired her new jewelry and batted her eyelashes at the Camel Sultan. For his part, Shaykh an-Baykh laughed jovially at his courtiers as he sampled various dishes. “Isn’t it wonderful that the Ambassador managed to defuse that situation?” the sallow unicorn gushed, glancing over at the senior diplomat’s table where Cross Purposes was still basking in the glow of Unalloyed Adoration (60-D) bestowed on him by the Magitechnical Attache. The others were a bit more restrained in their attempts to gain the Great Pony’s recognition or approval. “And to think, it all could have gone horribly wrong.” “Quite right, Mister Mulegan,” Reintief said. A pudu set a salad before him, and the earth pony noticed a small white object under one of the lettuce leaves. He moved the salad about with his fork to stir in the dressing, then lowered his forehoof below the table to look at the folded note. It read, need speek wit yu bar tonite. Reintief folded the note into his napkin, and started eating. A few times he raised the napkin to his lips, eating with quiet, slow decorum. He looked up as the Ambassador got up and rapped on his glass for order. “Gentlebeings,” Cross Purposes said, “as the representative of the Diarchy of Equestria, I’d like to take this opportunity to – “ He was interrupted by an expertly thrown zucchini muffin that impaled itself on his horn. “Stupid pony shut up and sit down!” the Patriarch shouted. Cross Purposes brushed crumbs from his face. Many of the ponies present recognized his expression as a Condescending Smile in the Presence of Inferiors (4-q). “I’d like to take this opportunity to say, in the interest of maintaining harmony and friendly relations between the Kudu and the Camels, that a possible solution to the dispute in the Yodelinda Valley is near at hoof.” “You interest me, Pony,” Shaykh an-Baykh said. His indolent pose and patronizing smirk suggested that the interest was the same a scientist had for a new variety of fungus. Yimbombollabu’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “It’s really a very simple solution,” Cross Purposes said grandly, gesturing with a hoof. “I propose that, in exchange for the Sultanates keeping the Valley, the Camels will cede the Mireland to Kuduvania!” There was a brief silence. The silence grew until Cross Purposes started to blush in embarrassment, and the unicorn sat down. Slowly, Shaykh an-Baykh started to clap his forefeet. “I’m glad to see, Yimbombollabu, that you hired a troupe of clowns to entertain us. Does he do tricks?” The Supreme Patriarch snorted and threw another muffin at the Ambassador, who flinched and barely managed to dodge out of the way. “Stupid ponies. Why you talk like them, hey?” An-Baykh smiled. “I attended school in Manehattan.” “Figures,” the Patriarch snorted in disgust. “It no surprise you in league with stupid ponies.” “Me? In league – with them?” The camel laughed. “We trade with them, you two-horned ignoramus. That’s all. Now, I want to hear from this unicorn why I should trade a beautiful spot like the Valley for the Mireland.” He gave the Ambassador a Speculative Look (56-e) that swiftly changed into the Camel version of a Patronizing Smirk (65-k). “Well? We’re waiting.” Cross Purposes blinked rapidly for a few moments before saying, “Giving the Mireland to the Kudu will grant them greater access to the Humpback Mountains – “ “Bah!” the Supreme Patriarch sneered. “Yodelinda Valley have all kinds tasty greens and grass. Mireland just bog of mud pits.” “But – but – but the Humpback Mountains are the Kudu’s ancestral homeland!” Cross Purposes sputtered. “Surely you’d want more access – “ Yimbombollabu waved this away with a hoof. “Is ancestral homeland, sure. But Kudu move many years ago, shove puny Pudu aside. Much nicer land, softer under hooves,” he added smugly. Reintief’s ears canted forward as he ate. Later that night, the earth pony and the rest of the Equestrian delegation were ushered aboard the ship that served as the Embassy. Reintief lagged behind the rest of the group, noting that stout iron bars had been bolted into place over all of the portholes. One of the kudu guards sneered at him, “We make sure stupid pony not get ashore tonight.” Reintief paused and looked the much taller kudu up and down. “Tell me: Does it hurt?” The kudu frowned as his brain shifted from first to second. “Does what hurt?” “This.” The earth pony made his way up the gangway as the kudu writhed on the dock, grasping one hoof and whimpering. “What was that all about, Reintief?” Mulegan asked. “What was what, Mister Mulegan?” “I thought I heard a heavy stomping sound.” “Ah. That was me, I’m afraid. I had some dirt in one hoof, and I didn’t want to track it aboard ship. Cleanliness is harmonious, you know.” The sallow unicorn bestowed a Sage Nod (3-g) on his subordinate. “Quite so, Reintief. We’ll make a gentlepony of you yet.” “I suppose it had to happen sooner or later,” Reintief said. Later, Reintief noted carefully that the bars on his cabin’s window were, in fact, very strong iron. They were secured to the sides of the ship with six-inch iron screws. It was a pity that the wood was riddled with dry rot. A bit of judicious work to keep the noise down, and the network of bars swung open a bit like a barn door. The earth pony swung a Cloak, for Nefarious Purposes, Late Night, over his back and started to climb out. “Psst! Reintief!” The voice was sibilant and accompanied by the droning of wings, and the pony found himself face to face with a Changeling. “Nice night for a seaside flit, Mandible.” The portly insectoid harrumphed a bit and crossed his forelegs. “Nuts to that. The Ambassador woke me up to go out and see what the Equestrians are up to, and here I find you breaking out of stir.” “Just stepping out for a breath of air. And what makes Ambassador Gaster think we’re up to something?” “You’re ponies. You have to be planning something,” Mandible said. “Besides, His Nibs felt a sudden spike in love coming from the main square today. That wasn’t expected.” “What was?” Mandible gave an impression of a Knowing Grin (11-i). “Never mind. The question was rhetorical, knowing the personalities involved.” Reintief thought for a moment. “If you report back that the Embassy of the Dual Thrones isn’t up to something, the Ambassador won’t believe you, right?” “Right,” the changeling said, a suspicious tone in his voice. “Then let’s give him what he wants. That way you can get in good with him.” Mandible brightened a bit. “That’s rather good of you, Reintief, in a spirit-of-chumship way of course.” “All right. Care to help draw the guards away from the dock for a moment? You can meet up with me two blocks inland, near the pudu quarter.” The hovering changeling pointed a perforated hoof at him. “No double-crossing, Reintief.” “You have my word.” Large compound eyes regarded the earth pony for a long moment, then Mandible buzzed away. A few minutes later Reintief heard the kudu guards yell, “Stupid pony! Come back!” and he started to climb out of his cabin. A Few Words Over CiderCasus Foederis © 2015 by Walter Reimer Chapter 7. “These pudu give me the creeps,” Lieutenant Mandible hissed. Disguised as one of the diminutive deer, he hugged a mug of ale close to his chest as the other barflies glowered at him. Reintief had a simple mug of cider sitting on the table before him, while Fausti had come from behind the bar to join them. “It’s like they can see straight through me.” Reintief shrugged. “Maybe they’re just excellent judges of character.” Their pudu companion gave a dainty snort. “Mais non,” Fausti said, “we can see zat you are ze Changeling.” “What!” Mandible was so startled that he dropped the spell in a haze of green fire. “You mean – “ “Oui. Pudu have good eyes, and can see through ze shape-changing magics,” the pudu said, sipping at one of his special drinks. The foam that dripped from the side of the flagon sizzled against the stone floor. “Princess Cadence would probably love to talk to you about that,” the earth pony said. Mandible flinched, probably hearing Thorax screaming in the distance. “That probably explains why Hive Intelligence has never had any success here.” He frowned at Fausti. “Treacherous pudu,” he hissed. “So it was you lot that thwarted our first attempt.” The little cervine gave the insectoid a hoof gesture that had obscure, yet blatant, biological connotations. “Your mother was a can opener, and your father smelled of ze lubrifiants industriels.“ “Gentlebeings,” Reintief admonished quietly as the two stared daggers at each other. “’First attempt?’” he asked Mandible. Harrumphing that he’d let the proverbial cat out of the bag, the Changeling grumbled, “Her Maj decided to try her luck on Kuduvania before infiltrating Canterlot. It didn’t work, and now I know why – a lot of our agents started having ‘swimming accidents.’” “I didn’t think Changelings could swim.” “They can’t,” Mandible said, giving Fausti a glare that Reintief interpreted as the immortal I’m On To You, Buster (21-y). “And I can’t help thinking that Her Majesty Queen Chrysalis would like you calling her ‘Her Maj’ about as much as she’d like to have the Princesses drop by for tea,” Reintief countered. “Are you going to tell her?” “Hardly. But since Changelings are famously connected to the Queen via the Hive-Mind, I can’t help thinking that she might hear you.” At this the insectlike creature flinched, and the earth pony and the pudu both chuckled. “Fausti, you said in your message that you wanted to talk.” “Oui, Reintief. Fausti wishes to know why you asked for delay in ze Puduvanian Liberation Front’s plans to massacre ze Supreme Patriarch?” “I thought we’d discussed that. The Princesses would not look favorably at a massacre – “ “No!” The pudu slammed his little hoof on the table. “We have heard of your Ambassador’s plans, Reintief, to give ze Camels ze Valley.” He glowered at the earth pony. “Perhaps we also massacre ze Ambassador.” “That won’t be a good idea.” “Pfui! Maybe we kill ze Ambassador, ze Patriarch, and ze Sultan,” Fausti said contemptuously. “Why do the Pudu want the Yodelinda Valley so badly?” Reintief asked. “We have our reasons,” one of the pudu in the background muttered. His drinking companion had drawn a knife, and was slowly stropping it against the table. “Which are? I mean, apart from the Kudu shoving you out of your homeland?” Dead silence greeted this, punctuated by a clatter as a mug struck the floor. Mandible looked around quickly, his wings starting to twitch in agitation. “I say, Reintief old buddy old pal . . . I have a sudden yen to go out and, um – look at the Moon! Yes, that’s it! I’ll just fly right out of here – “ The earth pony put out a hoof as the changeling bolted for the door, causing the hapless insectoid to crash into the ground with a clatter of chitin. Reintief delicately rested the hoof on Mandible’s abdomen at the junction of his left hock and the shank below it. When the changeling tried to move, the earth pony exerted only a slight amount of pressure and Mandible got the hint. Ignoring the muttered imprecations of “Vile pony” and “Treacherous Equestrian,” Reintief turned back to Fausti. “I’m waiting.” “You cannot think to beat all of us, Reintief,” the little pudu hissed. “I don’t need to. Just follow you and disrupt your plans. Now, spill it.” The bartender looked grumpy. He waved a hoof at his compatriots, who settled back into their seats. A few put away knives as Fausti said, “Oh, tres bien. Oui, the Valley is ze ancestral home of ze Pudu nation. We are zat close to getting it back,” and he held his hooves about an inch apart to illustrate his point, “and ze Pudu Liberation Front will not wait any longer.” “So what are you planning?” When Fausti failed to reply Reintief added, “Their Highnesses would not look kindly on the demise of two heads of state and their envoy.” “You threaten Fausti?” “I never threaten.” Mandible tried to struggle free, but subsided, whining, as the earth pony almost broke the changeling’s leg. Fausti tapped his dainty hooves on the table as he made his mind up. He glanced around the room, and two or three of the others in the room nodded. “We shall kidnap ze Patriarch’s sister.” Reintief raised one eyebrow. Mandible stopped trying to wriggle out from under Reintief’s hoof. “Taking it as read that the Supreme Patriarch apparently hates his sister, what do you hope to accomplish?” “Zose of us who have infiltrated ze Palace have seen at lunch zat ze Sultan is taken with ze Itchykitchkoo,” one pudu said from across the room. “And maybe she is a little sweet upon him, too,” another opined. Reintief looked down at Mandible, who clicked his fangs and twitched his wings in a changeling version of the classic Don’t Look At Me (10-l). “Let me get this straight, then. You plan on kidnapping Itchykitchkoo, and just sit back and wait for the magic of friendship to work things out in your favor?” “Mais oui. What could possibly go wrong?” Mission BriefingCasus Foederis © 2014 by Walter Reimer MLP:FiM is the property of Hasbro, Inc. Abject apologies to the ghost of Keith Laumer. Chapter 1: Mission Briefing " . . . Although the untutored laypony may not realize it, or at least may doubt it, the hardworking diplomats and bureaucrats of the Corps labor tirelessly to implement the Princess' will and bring harmony to Equestria's neighbors. A fine example of this is the behind-the-scenes efforts of Ambassador Cross Purposes in helping facilitate the Camel-Kudu Alliance in 1020 . . . " - Corps Diplomatique Equestrienne, Official History The valley was a kaleidoscope of various shades of green, with meadows of grass and wildflowers interrupting wide, dense stretches of old-growth forest. Birds flew overhead against a sky dotted with fluffy cumulus clouds, and orchids added splashes of color to the limbs of the trees. Through it all, a wide river tumbled over rapids to the northeast and slowed to a broad meander. Suddenly, the valley seemed to shake, and the river and the birds froze in mid-flow and mid-flight. Harsh, jagged diagonal lines appeared, marring the valley’s perfection, and everything went blue. “Blast it, Power Point!” the Trade Attache snapped, giving his unfortunate unicorn aide a hoof to the side of the head. “Can’t you hold an image for more than three minutes?” “Sorry, sir,” the unicorn said, “but it’s a bit of a strain.” The blue faded as his horn stopped glowing, revealing the scarred and none too clean deck of the ship. “I’m still – “ “Seasick. Yes, we all know,” and Trade Attache Swap Meet turned to the other ponies in the cabin. “Anyway, gentlecolts, that’s the main bit of contention. The Yodelinda Valley. Beautiful countryside, rare flowers and animals found hardly anywhere else – “ “Stuff it, Swap,” the Ambassador said. “Save the travelogues for the brochures. The Yodelinda Valley’s a strategic piece of property between the Camel Sultanates and the Kuduvanian Patriarchy.” Cross Purposes, the Ambassador Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary of Equestria to Kuduvania, gave his assembled staff his personal variation on a Purposeful Grimace (1778-j). Unfortunately, his personal variation on the venerable expression made the slightly built, pudgy unicorn look slightly dyspeptic. “Tensions between the two nations are increasing, and the Foreign Minister has it direct from the Princesses themselves – “ “No war, eh?” the Military Attache, Colonel Mess Kit, snorted (523-a). “Waste of time, if you ask me. We should just let the Camels and the Kudu fight it out, and take the Valley for ourselves, eh?” The pegasus gave the Ambassador a Cheeky Grin Between Stallions of the World (276-s(1)), but hastily recovered himself as Cross Purposes glowered at him. “Colonel, the Corps Diplomatique Equestrienne is devoted, heart and soul, to the maintenance of peaceful relations just short of war. Get that through that thick skull of yours. You’re no Commander Hurricane, despite what your mother may have told you.” His horn flared with a glow of bilious green as he straightened his semi-formal Vest, Early-Mid-Afternoon to its proper alignment with his cutie mark, which depicted two diametrically-opposed arrows. “We’re trying to prevent a war, not encourage one.” “May I make a suggestion, Your Excellency?” quavered the Third Secretary. “What is it, Mulegan?” Cross Purposes asked in tones of Barely Suppressed Contempt (4073-a). Ben Mulegan fiddled with his own vest, only to make it look more askew than usual. “Well, it seems to me that since the Camels occupy the Valley, why not ask them to trade a bit of territory they don’t want to the Kudus?” His vest slipped again as he twitched nervously, revealing his own cutie mark of a slice of toast impaled on a bottle of milk. “Such as?” Swap Meet asked in a Condescending Manner (607-q). Mulegan looked diffident. “Um, well, that is, er – “ “What Mr. Mulegan is trying to say,” his aide said, “is that the Kudus may be willing to take the Mireland in exchange for not engaging in hostilities with the Camels over the rights to the valley.” The tall and athletically-built earth pony nodded to the sallow unicorn, who gulped and nodded. “What Reintief said.” Mulegan’s ears drooped. Cross Purposes considered the suggestion, his expression one of Deep Thought (8-b), leavened with an appropriate amount of Unwillingness to Appear Too Condescending (1025-a) . “Mulegan, that is the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard. Have you seen the Mireland?” he demanded as the unfortunate Third Secretary wilted like a flower in a blast furnace. “Nothing but volcanic fumaroles, sulfurous gases and hot mud pits. No! Gentlecolts, we must think outside the paddock on this!” There was a pause as the members of the Mission thought through possible solutions. They all looked up attentively as the Ambassador crashed a hoof against the deck. “I have it!” the envoy declared. “We simply persuade the Camels to offer a parcel of land to the Kudu in exchange for their unrestricted rights to the Valley – say, the Mireland region.” His aides dutifully applauded the envoy’s originality and initiative. “Wonderful idea, Sir!” “Brilliant!” “Way to go, Boss!” The Ambassador basked briefly in the approbation and ritualized grimaces of his subordinates, bestowing on them his own Gracious Acknowledgement (455-r), mingled with undertones of Noblesse Oblige (241-h) before quieting the group with an upraised hoof. “Now, now, let us not get too carried away, fellows. After all, we may be putting the ore cart before the Diamond Dog. The Sultan Shaykh an-Baykh will be arriving for talks with His Supremacy, and it’s up to me – er, the Equestrian Embassy, to keep them talking as long as possible.” “To keep relations just short of war, Sir?” one bright young aide asked, sotto voce. The Trade Attache gave the colt a dig in the ribs and whispered, “And to pad out the old expense account. Haven’t you learned anything yet, Privet?” “Golly, Mr. Meet, real field work’s a lot different than what I learned in the Academy, is all.” “Cross Purposes is a master at this. Celestia will turn gray before – “ Swap Meet suddenly broke off and grinned innocently (26-b) as he caught his superior glaring at him. The Ambassador harrumphed. “Part of our negotiations will be to make sure that the Embassy is fully capable of hosting the summit talks.” “Good luck with that,” Mess Kit said, gesturing around at the barely seaworthy ship that currently housed the Embassy of Equestria. “You’d think the Kudu could at least have gotten the stink of rotting seaweed out of the woodwork.” “You, a military pony, unused to sleeping rough, Colonel?” Cross Purposes asked. The Pegasus cleared his throat. “Not at all, Your Excellency. Nothing like bivouacking on a wild cloud, or among the earth ponies and unicorns in the infantry, no sir.” “Then stop complaining, or you’ll be the one holystoning the decks. Take heart, fellows! We’ll get through this, maintaining peace and settling things to my – er, to everyone’s satisfaction.” He glanced up at an atonal blare of trumpets. “Ah. That’ll be His Supremacy. Confounded non-ponies – can’t they play trumpets decently?” He led his retinue to the passageway leading to the top deck, leaving Mulegan and Reintief bringing up the rear. “I say, Reintief,” the earth pony gushed, “the Ambassador really has a penetrating intellect, doesn’t he?” Reintief tapped a hoof against his chin. “I notice a decided shortage of wet paper bags around, Mr. Mulegan, so I guess your theory will have to stay unproven.” “Nonsense, Reintief! You really should have more faith in the Ambassador’s negotiating skills. Cross Purposes cut his teeth, peace talks-wise, when he fought off three trained Griffin negotiators at the fabled Table-shape Argument during the dispute over the Haylee Mills.” “I think that the Ambassador may have met his match in the Supreme Patriarch,” Reintief remarked. “I hear he has an unfortunate tendency to gore enemies on his horns, then incinerate them with his magic.” “The Kudu can do magic?” Mulegan asked. At Reintief’s nod he seemed to get a bit paler. “That wasn’t in the briefing scrolls, and as we know those are fully comprehensive, what you just said must be just an old mare’s story.” He gave his head a toss to flip his mane back into shape and proceeded to the upper deck, leaving Reintief alone. The earth pony glanced back at his broken-sword cutie mark for a moment before following. The ship that housed the Embassy had its sails furled, which allowed the southern sun to fall unimpeded on the main deck. Shades had been rigged by the crew, but it wasn’t doing much to fend off the heat. From the mainmast, the banner of the Two Royal Sisters hung limply. The crew was a group of twenty small antelopes, much smaller than the tall kudu and only half the size of the ponies assembling on the deck. One wearing a leather circlet trotted up to the Ambassador and said, “’Ere you are. Ze Patriarch, he iz waiting.” “Very well. Invite him aboard,” and as the small deer walked away Cross Purposes muttered, “Confounded Pudu. Don’t know why the Kudu have them around . . . “ The Counselor caught his boss’s words. “The, er, Pudu are sort of, well, that is – “ “They’re slaves,” Reintief interjected. “I’ll hear none of that!” the Ambassador snapped. “The Princesses deplore slavery. These unfortunate Pudu are an underclass, nothing more. They do many of the jobs that the Kudu can’t.” “Like sailing?” one junior aide ventured. “Exactly,” and the Ambassador allowed the young fellow to smile before adding, “but remember that the Kudu hardly notice them, so we won’t either – in the interest of amity and in the best traditions of the Corps. Remember the CDE’s motto.” “Non fluctus,” the rest solemnly intoned. “Don’t make waves.” The Embassy staff came to attention and bowed as another horn fanfare blared and a tall antelope with two twisted horns on his head strode onto the gangway. He wore a light blue silk cape over his withers and chains of amulets and charms in gold and mother-of-pearl hung from his neck. The kudu looked around at the ship, and casually kicked the pudu captain off the gangway and into the waters of the harbor. His way thus unimpeded, he walked onto the deck. The Ambassador and the Embassy party bowed. “Your Supremacy,” Cross Purposes said, “I greet you to – er, aboard – the Equestrian Embassy to Kuduvania, in the Princess’ names, and – “ “Yimbombollabu,” the tall kudu grumbled his name. “Kuduvania strong, proud nation. Don’t need no prissy ponies or their poncey Princesses.” He looked around, and the much smaller pudus immediately vanished. There was a cacophony of slammed hatches, leaving two of their mates behind. Those two leaped overboard rather than face the wrath of the Kuduvanian leader. There was a concerted gasp from the ponies on the deck. “Now see here,” Colonel Mess Kit started, only to subside at a raised hoof from the Ambassador. The AE&MP assayed an Amused Whinny (2386-D), taking care to do it behind his hoof in the time-honored Insincere Gesture in the Presence of Inferiors (2386-K) variation. This drew admiring gazes from the junior members of the Embassy as Cross Purposes said, “Your Supremacy makes a little joke,” he tittered. “Without the Princesses to raise the Sun and Moon – “ “You ponies are idiots,” the kudu leader said with a nonchalant flip of his hoof. “Sun and Moon rise and fall as they will. Princesses just do fancy light show and fool you.” His Supremacy turned around, missing the Ambassador’s Outraged Look (444-f) and looking around at the ship. “Like the ship. Rotting seaweed good odor for ponies. Reminds them of their place when the Sultan gets here,” and he concluded this by spitting expertly over the rail. “Sultan here tomorrow,” and his horns glowed, sending a Jacob’s Ladder of miniature lightning bolts dancing between them. “Ah, er,” Cross Purposes stammered at the display. “Sultan give up Yodelina Valley, or there be war drums,” and the lightning grew a bit brighter and more sustained. “The Corps Diplomatique – “ “Kudus have great army.” His Supremacy was clearly warming to his subject. “Crush the stupid Camels, and decorate my throne with Sultan’s head.” He gave a final contemptuous snort and stepped back onto the gangway. He paused to look over his shoulder at the Ambassador, who gaped openmouthed back at him. “You come to dinner at Sundown Song,” and he left before a suitable reply could be made. A group of junior aides, led by the Chief of Mission and the Military Attache, clustered around the Ambassador as Mulegan took Reintief aside. “Good heavens, Reintief,” Mulegan said as he mopped his forehead with a lace hoofkerchief, “Ambassador Cross Purposes certainly has his work cut out for him.” “Judging from the edges on His Supremacy’s horns,” Reintief observed, “His Excellency had better be in top form, or his work won’t be the only thing cut out of him.”
Dinner and a ShowCasus Foederis © 2014 by Walter Reimer Chapter 2. “I don’t like it, Reintief.” Mulegan declared. “It could be a trifle sweeter,” Reintief concurred, looking into the depths of his mug. “I don’t mean the cider!” the Third Secretary said peevishly. “And I don’t mean the stuffy air, either.” He looked around the Patriarch’s dining hall at the mixture of kudu and ponies that circulated, making small talk and keeping a diplomatic ear open for any indiscreet comments. Despite the heat and the odors in the room, none of the windows were open. Much smaller pudu scurried about underhoof, making sure that drinks were topped off and plates remained full. “Can’t you feel the tension in the air?” “You mean the way that the Camel Ambassador has been snubbed by the Patriarch?” “Well, yes, and – “ “And the way that the Griffin Charges d’Affaires has been insulted twice by offering him salad instead of his favorite sizzling weasel on a stick?” “Er, yes – “ “And the armed guards – in civilian dress, watching the doors?” “Um – “ “And then there’s Ambassador Gaster.” “Exactly – er, that is,” and Mulegan looked around. “You’re right. Where is the confounded fellow? He’d better not be transformed. It’s a horrible breach of protocol.” “The Changelings never take much stock in protocol,” Reintief pointed out. “But I don’t think the Ambassador’s here.” “Why not?” “Changelings recharge their mana reserves by consuming love and other positive emotions,” Reintief reminded his superior of the briefings everyone in government had received. He gestured at the diplomatic reception as one attaché gave a rather forced Diplomatic Laugh (9-s). “Any Changeling in here would starve immediately.” “I suppose you’re right – but that proves my point!” Mulegan cried. “Despite the possibility of starvation, Gaster’s supposed to be here.” He gave a theatrical shudder. “Much as I hate those sticky-hooved Changelings, they’re still one of the Maker’s creatures – no matter how disgusting they might be.” He shuddered again and twitched his formal early-early-evening cape back into line. His ears perked as another atonal trumpet blast echoed through the room. “Blast! What is it now?” From a side entrance came a female kudu bedecked in even more jewelry than the Patriarch. Her cape was trimmed in silver. The CDE ponies and the kudu in the room all bowed, with the exception of the Patriarch. The woman strode up to Yimbombollabu and slapped him hard across the face with her right hoof. To the gasps of the ponies she bellowed, “Why you not tell me you having dinner?” The Patriarch rubbed his face with his hoof. “You were asleep,” he snorted. “Your Supremacy, who is this impertinent female?” Cross Purposes said indignantly. “What right does she have to intrude on this formal occasion? She looks like a low, common sort with her tatty cape and dreadful costume jewelry.” Yimbombollabu raised one eyebrow. “She my sister, Itchykitchyku.” “And her royalty shines out of her like a beacon,” the unicorn said smoothly. “I am pleased to meet you, Madam.” “Madam! MADAM!? You think I run a joy house in the souks?” “What, what? Of course not!” he sputtered. “And why not?” she said, pawing the floor. “I am known for good business sense!” Her hoof struck sparks against the stone tiles, and Reintief noticed a few of the guards in mufti falling back. “Mr. Mulegan?” “Yes, Reintief?” “You may want to come around to this side of the punchbowl.” The Third Secretary knitted his brow. “Why?” “As you’re no doubt aware from our briefing, the Kudu cannot do magic.” “And quite so,” Mulegan said. “The Patriarch’s little, ahem, display earlier was probably a party trick he does to impress.” Reintief nodded. “So while it may be a simple party trick, you may want to have something between you and the Patriarch’s sister – to avoid getting hit by any flying debris, you understand.” The earth pony blinked at his subordinate before glancing back at the center of attention. The kudu femme kept pawing the floor, raising scarlet sparks. Sparks that were starting to fly and circle around her, faster and faster until they resembled a faintly red dome of light. “Er . . . say! The canapes on that side of the table look quite tasty, Reintief. Move over a bit so I can try a sample.” The larger earth pony obligingly made way for his superior, with both of them keeping at least one eye on things. Mulegan seized a morsel at the end of a toothpick and popped it into his mouth. “I was right,” he said after he had swallowed. “Very tasty.” The spell increased in brightness until Yimbombollabu’s sister activated it by stamping her hoof. The dome of light expanded, growing at an appallingly fast rate, causing the Ambassador and his retinue to fall to the floor, hooves over heads, in an effort to avoid the spell. Interestingly, the light passed over them soundlessly, without ruffling a hair on anyone’s mane. What the spell did do, however, was shatter every window in the place. “There! That better!” Itchykitchyku said happily amid the tinkling sound of falling glass shards. “Room needed fresh air.” “Idiot!” the Patriarch bellowed. “Those windows cost money! That coming out of your allowance!” She gave her brother a gesture with obscure biological implications, stuck out her tongue and blew him a raspberry. “You not boss of me. Tell it to pudu – or to stupid ponies.” She then put her nose in the air and went to one of the buffet tables and proceeded to start piling snacks onto a plate. “You don’t see that every day,” Reintief remarked, then realized that he was talking to empty air. “Mister Mulegan?” The only trace of the sallow-coated Third Secretary was the tip of his tail and the silhouette of his hindquarters as it quivered against the overhang of the tablecloth. Underneath, Mulegan had his forehooves firmly over his head, his teeth chattering like a cheap maraca. He flinched as Reintief eased in beside him under the table, and flinched again when the larger earth pony poked him with a hoof. “Mister Mulegan.” “Is she gone? Are we dead, Reintief?” Mulegan mumbled. “I always expected to go to Elysium – purity of heart, you know – but I didn’t think you’d be here, Reintief. You like strong drink and the delights of the demi-monde too much.” “Guilty on all counts,” Reintief said cheerfully. “But I regret to say that we’re not dead.” “You’re being delusional, Reintief,” the Third Secretary scoffed. “We’re surely dead. You saw that spell the Patriarch’s sister unleashed. I think it happened so fast that we went across the Divide without even knowing it. Once you get used to it, being dead – “ he looked up “ – not all that different, really.” “Mister Mulegan?” “Yes, Reintief?” “It’s said that ponies in Elysium cannot lie and, in fact, are incapable of falsehood.” “Very true, Reintief.” “Then believe me when I tell you that we’re not dead.” He paused to peer out from under the tablecloth. “Although we might be shortly.” “How d’you mean?” “The pudu we’re currently sharing space with.” “Wonderfully egalitarian place, Elysium. So long as there aren’t any Changelings.” “The pudu,” Reintief said patiently, “has a large and rather sharp-looking knife in his hooves.” “What would someone in Elysium need with a knife?” “That further buttresses my argument that we’re not in Elysium, Mister Mulegan. I suppose I should ask him.” “Please do, Reintief. I’ll be right here.” Mulegan hunkered down further, his front hooves more firmly over his eyes.
Late Night DrinksCasus Foederis © 2014 by Walter Reimer Chapter 3. Reintief shrugged and crawled toward the pudu. The little antelope crouched a bit at the earth pony’s approach, transferring the knife from his hooves to his mouth. “Hello there,” Reintief whispered affably (747-o). “You might want to be careful with that. You might hurt somebody.” The pudu whispered around the knife, “Zut! Come closer, Pony, and we shall see, hein?” “Okay,” and Reintief lunged. His left forehoof swept down as the cervine lunged at him, pinning the blade against the floor while his right forehoof came down hard on the back of the pudu’s head. He had moved so quickly that the clatter of the blade striking the floor could easily have been mistaken for another shard of glass falling from the windows. “See what I mean? You can get hurt playing with knives.” “Let go of me, pony – urgh . . . “ The diminutive antelope groaned softly as Reintief applied a bit of weight to his right forehoof. “What you want?” “You might start by telling me what you plan on doing with that knife.” When the pudu hesitated, Reintief applied a bit of pressure. “What iz ze use,” the pudu said with a sigh. “I am to die anyway, zo go ahead, Pony. My only regret iz zat I will be unable to strike a blow against our oppressors.” “Oppressors? Details, please.” “Alors, you Ponies do not know.” The pudu slumped a bit further. “Zis used to be ze pudu’s country. Zenturies ago, ze Kudu came with zeir magic. Ever since, Pudu have been ze slaves. I am here – “ “Shh,” Reintief said, shushing him as a pair of large ungulate hooves appeared. From their relative daintiness, he surmised that they belonged to the Supreme Patriarch’s sister. She must still be grazing around the buffet tables. The hooves scraped against the floor. “What smell bad?” Itchykitchykoo demanded, sniffing loudly. She abruptly poked her head under the tablecloth. “What this? Stupid pony and stupider pudu?” “I’m very sorry,” Reintief said. “I dropped a knife and we both went to retrieve it.” She snorted. “Get out. Me no want to see stupid pony – OR stupider pudu.” Reintief dragged the pudu out from under the table and urged him along to the kitchens at the back of the banqueting hall. Behind them, there was an anguished yelp as the Kudu kicked Mulegan out from under the table. “Mulegan!” the Ambassador shouted. “What the blazes were you doing under that table?” “I’m starting to think that Reintief was right . . . “ the Third Secretary muttered as the kitchen doors closed. The doors served to muffle the sounds of Ambassadorial rage directed at the hapless Mulegan. The kitchen was full of the noise of pots and pans, with several dozen pudu preparing dishes or washing up. A few stared curiously at the two newcomers, and Reintief hustled his companion off to one side by the walk-in refrigerator. “Now, before we get interrupted again, what are you here for?” The pudu drew himself up to his full height, his head just making it to Reintief’s shoulder. “I am here for ze Puduvanian Liberation Front. I was going to assassinate ze Supreme Patriarch, that poseur, but you caught me.” He sagged again. “Nothing matters now. You will now give me over to ze Kudu, and zey will execute me.” “Let’s hold that thought for a moment. You say that this was your country?” “Oui. Maybe two centuries ago, ze Pudu were free, but a zentury ago zose Kudu came. We had no magic, zo we became zeir slaves,” the fellow said with a philosophical shrug. “And now you plan to rise up?” The pudu nodded miserably. “Eet will be of no use, though. Ze Kudu, zey have ze magics, and we do not.” “Have you asked for help?” “Zat eez eempossible,” the pudu said, his Equestrian marred by his native accent. “Ze Equestrians talk to ze Kudu, not to us.” He cocked his head, looking up at Reintief. “You are ze first Pony to speak to me – other than to give me orders.” “I have a soft spot in my heart,” Reintief remarked. He leaned in and asked quietly, “I’d like to speak with your leader. Attempts like yours will only harden the Kudu, and the Ambassador is a firm believer in collective action.” “Ze Ambassador is a friendly sort, hein?” “Not really. He believes in collective action because it helps him to spread the blame around.” Reintief sat on his haunches and regarded the small knife-wielder. “Can you get me an interview with your leader?” The little fellow scratched under his chin with one hoof as he thought it over, and finally nodded. “I will have to speak to him. Meet me at ze corner of Antimony and Fifth Streets, zouth of where your ship iz docked, at midnight.” “Till midnight, then. I’m Reintief.” “I am called Muerte.” The two parted ways, and Reintief slipped out of the kitchen. “There you are, Reintief!” Mulegan cried as the earth pony reappeared. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” “Sorry, Mister Mulegan. I was looking for a bathroom. Anything wrong?” “Wrong? Wrong! His Excellency is in a towering pet, all directed at you, for consorting with a pudu in front of the Supreme Patriarch and his sister.” The Third Secretary looked around and dropped his voice. “I’ve tried to deflect most of his rage, but he’s ordered you back to the Embassy at once.” Reintief nodded. “I’d best be going, then. Still convinced we’re in Elysium, Mister Mulegan?” “Not any longer, Reintief. For a brief moment while Ambassador Cross Purposes was talking, I thought I might be in Tartarus.” “Here’s hoping you get things sorted out, then,” and Reintief headed for the door. Before he left, however, he was confronted by Colonel Mess Kit. The pegasus’ wings were fluttering agitatedly as he said, “See here, young fellow! You’d best go straight back to the boat. His Nibs has ordered you belowdecks and confined to quarters until after this mission’s over.” “Thank you, Colonel. Story of my life,” and with that the earth pony left the banquet hall. Later that night bells chimed the hour before midnight, and Reintief slipped out of the window of his cabin, hooves clinging precariously to the ledge ten feet above the waters of the harbor. He balanced briefly, then leaped upward, forehooves hooking around a railing and slowly pulling himself up. “Reintief?” His ears flicked at Mulegan’s hissed voice. “Where are you – Reintief!” The earth pony looked down to see his superior gaping up at him. “What are you doing up there? You’re confined to quarters!” “I got restless, Mister Mulegan. Cabin fever, you know. My doctor always prescribes a nice long walk for it.” “Ah, a medical issue, then? Well, I suppose I can – hey!” Reintief looked back down and Mulegan asked, “Where are you going?” “Not quite sure. I’ll let you know,” and Reintief hauled himself over the railing and onto the deck. Apart from one uninterested-looking pudu, the deck was deserted. Two kudu guards lounged at the dock end of the gangplank, forelegs casually draped around wicked-looking spears. As the pony’s hooves sounded on the gangplank, the two guards perked up and whirled, spears at the ready. “Here! Where stupid pony go?” “Not quite sure, but I know where you’re going.” Reintief brought his left forehoof around, knocking one guard’s spear aside so that the point jammed into a plank. He used his momentum to pivot to his right and kicked out with his rear hooves, sending the surprised guard hurtling into the water. The first guard managed to yank his spear out of the wood and jabbed at Reintief, who let the shaft pass him then caught the middle of the slender shaft in his teeth. A bite down and twist, and the spear broke in half. The guard gaped at his damaged weapon in time to join his compatriot, propelled by a hard kick to the face. Reintief shook out his mane and stepped onto the wharf. “Pity. Bad weather for a swim.” Apart from a few taverns, the city was quiet as the earth pony made his way to the appointed corner, arriving at the right intersection just as the bells sounded midnight. “Psst.” “Muerte?” “Ze same, Reintief.” The pudu stepped out of the shadows. “My cell leader has decided to talk with you. Follow me.” He slipped back into the darkness, with Reintief trailing behind him. A small door, sized for pudu, came into view. “You will have to, how you say, crouch down.” “No problem. We diplomats are trained to crawl,” and Reintief lowered himself to his belly before following Muerte into the building. It was a tavern, the air inside redolent with the smells of native cooking and stale spilled liquor. A few pudu at a table lowered their mugs and chorused, “Morty!” “Zat is Muerte, you drunken Diamond Dogs,” Muerte grumbled. “Here he iz, Boss. Reintief, zis iz Fausti.” He gestured at the bar with a cloven hoof. At first, Reintief didn’t see anyone. Finally he noticed two dainty hooves on the bar on either side of a small muzzle with two nubby horns. “So, you are the pony who wants to see Fausti,” the fellow said in a quiet, breathy voice. “Name’s Reintief.” The pudu’s expression grew crafty. “Perhaps Reintief would like a drink, hein?” Reintief smiled. “I am a bit thirsty, at that.” “Give him ze Special, Fausti,” an onlooker called out. “That sounds tempting,” the earth pony said. “One Special, please.” Fausti’s head and hooves disappeared behind the bar and for a moment there were sounds of activity. Something was being chopped, other things were being poured, and at one point there was a loud pop! and a cloud of vapor smelling of acetone and pineapple wafted up. After several more moments a pony-sized mug was lifted onto the bar, with Fausti’s dainty little hooves tapping on the countertop. “Ze Special.” “Thank you.” Reintief pulled the mug toward him and sniffed. The drink smelled of kiwi, lime, and pineapple, and fizzed slightly. He glanced around and saw the rest of the patrons watching him closely. He raised the mug to Fausti. “To the Revolution’s success,” and drank, first taking a small swallow and sampling the tastes before drinking more deeply. “Hmm. It’s not Griffin aqua ardente, but it’s quite passable.” “You impress Fausti,” the little antelope said. “We talk, hein? Ponies help pudu, yes?” “Perhaps. Ponies will not help the pudu if they assassinate the Supreme Patriarch, though.” “Pfui,” Fausti spat. “We are oppressed minority – “ “The Princesses might bring pressure to bear on the Kudu on your behalf, but only if you avoid violent actions,” Reintief said. “They believe in Harmony, you see.” “Zo, what iz to be done, Reintief?” The earth pony briefly outlined a course of action, between sips of his tankard. “So, what do you think?” A pair of small hooves drummed on the bar. “I will talk to the Zentral Committee.” “Good.” He slid the tankard back to Fausti. “I’ll have another, please.” An hour later, Reintief low-crawled out of the bar, straightened up and worked out the kinks in his back and legs before trotting back to the harbor. Three blocks from the waterfront district he saw something stir in the shadows, and a kudu stepped out to bar his way. “Vile pony,” he hissed.
Morning ActivitiesCasus Foederis © 2014 by Walter Reimer Chapter 4. Reintief looked the kudu over as it stepped further into the dim glow of a nearby streetlamp. “Hello there. Nice night for it, eh?” “You are not welcome in Kuduvania,” the kudu declared. The horned antelope gave his head a toss that Reintief correctly interpreted as a textbook 8-k (Right This Way, Boss). Another, slightly larger kudu stepped out as the first one said, “You ponies will not intervene.” The earth pony looked them both over and remarked, “One might say the same about the two of you.” “What – er, what pony mean? We are Kudu.” “No, you’re not,” Reintief shook his head. “I’d wager a case of Dionysus Dark Premium Hard Cider that you – “ he pointed at the first kudu “ – are Lieutenant Mandible, which makes you Captain Thorax.” He gestured at the second kudu. “I’m not going to ask where Ambassador Gaster is. I know he likes his beauty sleep.” The kudu gave him a puzzled look, and a gout of magical green flames erupted from his horns. When the flash subsided, the tall antelope was replaced by a slightly fatter-than-normal Changeling, his chitin freshly polished and sporting the three pips of a staff officer. “Curses, Reintief! How did you know?” “You still haven’t mastered the trick of impersonating non-equine legs, Mandible. You always end up looking bow-legged and knock-kneed simultaneously.” “Drat. Still, what makes you think this is Captain Thorax?” “Simple. After his demotion, Queen Chrysalis had Foreign Minister Pronotum assign you as his keeper. He never goes anywhere without you.” Another wash of green magic, and the second kudu was replaced by another Changeling, this one with a slighter, more spindly-legged build, and the chrome inlays of a field-grade officer. “And don’t think I have forgotten your perfidy in my downfall, Reintief.” “It was your idea to sell your Queen on the notion that invading Canterlot would topple the entire Equestrian government,” Reintief said, “not me. So, what brings two officers of the Changeling Intelligence Agency to Kuduvania?” Thorax waved a perforated hoof in a tut-tutting (96-a) motion. “Now now, Reintief, you know that’s not how the game is played. Changelings by their nature play ‘em close to the chest. And as for Ambassador Gaster, that greedy old grub is, as you have perspicaciously indicated, probably fast asleep, leaving us poor toilers in the pod chamber to stay up all night.” “Uh-huh. So he gave the reception tonight a miss just to get some sleep?” “Exactly,” Mandible said smugly. “You’ll forgive me, of course, if I don’t believe you.” Thorax bared his fangs in a grin. “That, too, is part of the game. You distrust me, I toy with you, you guess and run about, I gloat over you – “ “I win.” “You win – hey!” “So just between us beings of the world, why not spill the beans now, and save Equestria the trouble of having to teach you all a lesson. Again.” “You didn’t teach us a lesson. We lost through Equestrian perfidy!” Thorax suddenly screeched. “Our beloved Queen was many months getting her strength back, with the healthier members of the Hive waiting on her palp and hoof. We – “ His voice became muffled as Mandible shoved both forehooves in his superior officer’s mouth. “You’ll have to forgive him. Ever since Princess Cadence – “ Thorax gave vent to another screech, which caused a light to come on in one of the nearby buildings. A sleepy, querulous voice yelled in Kudu that whoever was torturing the cat needed to wait until after the sun was up. A window slammed shut and the light went out again. “Phew,” Mandible remarked as the pony and the two insectoids emerged from the shadows. “That was close.” “Ever since Princess Cadence what?” Reintief prompted, causing Thorax to writhe in Mandible’s grasp. “Ever since she and her husband expelled the Swarm,” Mandible said, struggling with his captain, “his self-confidence was completely shot, poor fellow. As you know, he was the principal strategist on Her Majesty’s staff – “ he lost the battle to keep Thorax quiet and the captain clapped his hooves over his ears. “I told you never to say her name again!” Thorax hissed. “Why not peel my chitin back and pour in some nice lemon juice while you’re at it?” Mandible whispered, “Cadence!” “Ahhh!” Thorax started to stagger away, his lieutenant in hot pursuit. “Cadence!” “AHHH!” More lights started to come on. “Cadence!” “I’m not listening!” “CADENCE!” Mandible shouted, a glow of magic transforming him into a familiar pink alicorn. “CadenceCadenceCadenceCadenceCadenceCadenceCadenceCadence!” The duo stormed off down the alleyways, accompanied by the shouts of awakened sleepers and the clatter of overturned trash cans. After a while, the echoes of screaming and banging died away, leaving the neighborhood silent once again. Reintief headed back to the wharf, finding no sign of the guards he’d knocked into the water. “Must’ve gone for a moonlight swim,” he mused. The next day the capital was decorated with two sets of banners, the flag of Kuduvania hoisted higher than the banner of the Camel Sultanates. The populace was turned out in their best, but the cheering was desultory and the crowd’s mood left something to be desired. “Things seem a bit tense, Reintief,” Mulegan remarked as he fidgeted with his formal mid-semi-morning cloak. The earth pony nodded. “If the atmosphere were any more poisonous, I’d suggest ordering in a crew of pegasi to clear the air. A nice typhoon might do the trick.” “I heard that!” and Reintief was confronted by Ambassador Cross Purposes himself. Mulegan eeped and somehow managed to duck under Colonel Mess Kit. The unicorn had to tip his head back to glare straight at Reintief’s face. “Your reputation in some of the most historic incidents in the CDE’s copybook is well-known to me, Reintief! I don’t know how you ended up in this mission, but one hoof out of line and you’ll spend the entire time in your quarters! Do you understand me?” “Clearly, Your Excellency. But – “ “But? But what?” “I wish to respectfully point out to Your Excellency that Sultan Shaykh an-Baykh and his retinue are arriving.” “Whatwhatwhatwhat?” The Ambassador whirled, wide-eyed, and the staff scattered as he galloped forward to take his place in the receiving line. The unicorn pulled to a stop and nearly wilted from Supreme Patriarch Yimbombollabu’s angry snort. His sister, Itchykitchykoo, merely sniffed at him disdainfully. Trumpets sounded and the kudu guards straightened as an honor guard of camels in flowing robes marched up the street toward them. Trailing behind the guard was a massive bull camel in ornate gold-embroidered silk robes. Gold ornaments gleamed on his ears and his hump as he nodded and smiled to the largely quiet crowd. As he drew near the dais where the Patriarch, his sister, and the Equestrian diplomats were standing, his booming laugh and equally resounding voice could be heard. “Ho ho! Greetings, one and all! Greetings from Shaykh an-Baykh, and from all who live in the Sultanates! Ho ho!” Retainers scattered rose petals and silver coins in his path, but no one dared move past the lines of guards to gather up the money. Finally he stopped in front of the dais, and bowed with a flourish of his long neck. “Shaykh an-Baykh, on behalf of the Camels, Sultan and Keeper of the Sands, greets his brother monarch Yimbombollabu, Supreme Patriarch of the Kudu.” Yimbombollabu inclined his head graciously, a sneer contorting his muzzle in Obvious Malevolent Pleasure (27-b). “Kill him.”
ManeuversCasus Foederis © 2014 by Walter Reimer Chapter 5. “How WUDE!” the Equestrian Magitechnical Attache exclaimed as the Kudu guards leveled spears toward the Sultan. “Quiet, Bell Jar,” Colonel Mess Kit hissed, “or we’ll get spitted too.” The pegasus looked to be about two seconds from flying away as fast as his wings could carry him. “Just you watch, though. Old Cross Purposes will get this sorted out, you’ll see.” The Ambassador had shied backward perhaps a dozen steps at the Patriarch’s order. Now, he lurched forward the same distance to stand beside the Kudu leader. “Ahem, Supreme Patriarch?” The antelope turned to glare at the unicorn, who flinched just a bit. Sparks Jacob’s Laddered their way up and down his horns as he growled, “What stupid pony want?” “Er, that is to say, ah, that the Diarchy of Equestria will not . . . tolerate . . . “ His voice trailed off to inaudibility as he wilted like a rose in a bonfire under the Supreme Patriarch’s glare. Yimbombollabu snorted contemptuously (401-k), muttered, “Stupid pony,” and addressed his intended victim. “Shaykh an-Baykh, prepare to die.” His guards readied their spears, their horns already sparking malevolently. A few of the kudu in the crowd had ventured out behind the Camel procession to gather up the coins and gems scattered in the Sultan’s wake. Aside from that, the plaza was silent. The Camel suddenly laughed out loud (133-t) and scuffed a cloud of sand and dust into the air. “Yimbombollabu, your troops are formidable, yes? But is your magic?” A sudden bolt of electric blue erupted between the Patriarch’s horns, only to meet the glittering shield of sand and dust and dispel itself harmlessly. The Kudu snorted again, unimpressed. “You outnumbered, Camel. I take your head, decorate throne with it.” His sister looked bored and wandered off to sit with her ladies-in-waiting a short distance away. “Now you and all stupid Camels die – “ “Now, see here!” and both erstwhile combatants paused as Ambassador Cross Purposes stepped out to stand between the Patriarch and the Sultan. “Equestria will not stand for any war between the Kudu and the Camels!” “Why not?” the Sultan asked. Bits of stucco and adobe ripped away from nearby buildings and formed themselves into a small force of quadrupedal golems, increasing the number of Camel guards to equal their adversary’s numbers. “How - ?” Mulegan gasped. “Camel magic can shape and manipulate sand and dust,” Reintief said. “And since adobe and stucco are made of sand – “ “They could turn the whole city against us!” Mulegan whimpered. “For the love of Celestia, do something, Reintief!” “Why . . . well, it’s immoral, it’s detrimental, it – it’s – it’s not harmonious,” the unicorn stammered to a stop and looked back and forth at the two rulers. “Um . . . “ “What His Excellency is attempting to say,” Reintief said as the earth pony stepped forward, “Is that Equestria would not look favorably upon warfare between the Camel Sultanates and Kuduvania.” “Then why doesn’t the idiot say so?” Shaykh an-Baykh demanded. Reintief smiled. “The Ambassador is naturally self-effacing. One might say he was modest to a fault. However, the Ambassador makes a good point. The Diarchy would deplore any hostilities between their good friends, and as we are all intelligent and mature beings here – “ “Kill him,” Yimbombollabu growled, and one of the guards lowered his spear and charged at Reintief. Cross Purposes whinnied in fright and cowered as the earth pony stood his ground until the spear almost touched him, then sidestepped it, seizing the shaft in the hollow under his right foreleg. He pivoted and drove the point into the pavement, eliciting a startled cry from the guard as the kudu sailed straight over the Sultan. The impromptu pole vaulter landed on the opposite side of the street on top of several onlookers. From the sounds of the scuffle, they were none too pleased with his gymnastic form. Reintief twirled the spear and brought the butt to rest on the pavement. “As I was saying, as we’re all intelligent and mature beings here, I’m sure that some equitable arrangement can be worked out.” Shaykh an-Baykh laughed. “I like you, Pony! I think I’ll save you for an equine sacrifice to Baron Sandy after I defeat this two-horned nuisance.” Reintief said nothing, but instead started to whistle. It was a soft, dirgelike tune that sounded vaguely familiar to the ponies and completely unknown to the Kudu. The Sultan, however, stiffened as tears began to well up in his eyes. His retainers almost dropped the magically-infused shield, one or two starting to openly sob. “What in Celestia’s Name - ?” Cross Purposes said. “Reintief! Whatever in blazes you’re whistling, stop it! It’s irritating the Sultan!” The earth pony obligingly stopped. “As you wish, Your Excellency.” “Exactly. What was that tune, by the way?” “It’s an old Camel ballad, The Battle of Akh-ni.” Reintief glanced at the Sultan. “Every Camel learns it in school.” “What’s it about?” Cross Purposes asked, Interested Against His Will (800-b). Shaykh an-Baykh pulled himself together with a visible effort and replied, “In the days before Nightmare Moon, Princess Luna led the armies of Equestria against the Camels at Akh-ni. By the time she was done, we offered to sacrifice our own leaders to her to make her stop.” “Goodness,” Mulegan interjected. “But surely that’s just a legend? It was over a thousand years ago – “ “No, it’s all true,” Reintief assured him. “Ask the Princess sometime, if you see her. She’s still very proud of it.” Before either the Ambassador or Mulegan could respond, Itchykitchykoo walked over to her brother. “What you wait for?” she demanded. “Kill him!” “Silence. Him have magic – “ She brought a hoof to the side of his head. “And what have you got? Chopped hay? Fry Camel Sultan like plantain, or we invite him to eat dinner.” She squinted up at the Sultan’s retinue. “They eat us out of house and home, I thinking.” She leveled an accusing hoof at the box one attendant had placed on the pavement. “What that?” “Is a box,” Yimbombollabu said. That earned him another hoof to his head. “Idiot! I see that! What inbox?” Her brother snorted at her. “Go ask, maybe die with Camels and stupid Ponies.” She gave him a disdainful snort and stepped forward. “Hey, humpback!” Itchykitchykoo yelled. “What that in box?” “This?” A thin tendril of magic coiled around the box like a snake, unlatched the box and opened it. “Just a pretty trinket,” the Sultan said as the tendril lifted an exquisitely-crafted gold chain necklace from the casket. A pendant of two sapphires flanking a ruby caught the rays of the sun as Shaykh an-Baykh brought it before the Patriarch’s sister. “Pretty, isn’t it?” The Kudu’s eyes went as round as saucers as she gazed at the necklace. “Very pretty.” “Then it’s yours,” and the necklace drifted higher and settled around her neck. “Hah!” Yimbombollabu snorted. “You try bribe my sister to save your miserable life, Sultan? You shall die before the – “ Itchykitchykoo whirled and stuffed a hoof in his mouth. “SHUT. UP. YOU. MOUTH!" Author's Note Yes, I'm writing this again. I regret nothing.
Formal LuncheonCasus Foederis © 2014 by Walter Reimer Chapter 6. “Heavens, Reintief,” Mulegan said breathlessly, looking around the banquet hall as silent pudu servitors delivered meals to the assembled dignitaries. The Supreme Patriarch and his sister were on one side of the hall, Yimbombollabu studiously ignoring his guests while Itchykitchyku alternately admired her new jewelry and batted her eyelashes at the Camel Sultan. For his part, Shaykh an-Baykh laughed jovially at his courtiers as he sampled various dishes. “Isn’t it wonderful that the Ambassador managed to defuse that situation?” the sallow unicorn gushed, glancing over at the senior diplomat’s table where Cross Purposes was still basking in the glow of Unalloyed Adoration (60-D) bestowed on him by the Magitechnical Attache. The others were a bit more restrained in their attempts to gain the Great Pony’s recognition or approval. “And to think, it all could have gone horribly wrong.” “Quite right, Mister Mulegan,” Reintief said. A pudu set a salad before him, and the earth pony noticed a small white object under one of the lettuce leaves. He moved the salad about with his fork to stir in the dressing, then lowered his forehoof below the table to look at the folded note. It read, need speek wit yu bar tonite. Reintief folded the note into his napkin, and started eating. A few times he raised the napkin to his lips, eating with quiet, slow decorum. He looked up as the Ambassador got up and rapped on his glass for order. “Gentlebeings,” Cross Purposes said, “as the representative of the Diarchy of Equestria, I’d like to take this opportunity to – “ He was interrupted by an expertly thrown zucchini muffin that impaled itself on his horn. “Stupid pony shut up and sit down!” the Patriarch shouted. Cross Purposes brushed crumbs from his face. Many of the ponies present recognized his expression as a Condescending Smile in the Presence of Inferiors (4-q). “I’d like to take this opportunity to say, in the interest of maintaining harmony and friendly relations between the Kudu and the Camels, that a possible solution to the dispute in the Yodelinda Valley is near at hoof.” “You interest me, Pony,” Shaykh an-Baykh said. His indolent pose and patronizing smirk suggested that the interest was the same a scientist had for a new variety of fungus. Yimbombollabu’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “It’s really a very simple solution,” Cross Purposes said grandly, gesturing with a hoof. “I propose that, in exchange for the Sultanates keeping the Valley, the Camels will cede the Mireland to Kuduvania!” There was a brief silence. The silence grew until Cross Purposes started to blush in embarrassment, and the unicorn sat down. Slowly, Shaykh an-Baykh started to clap his forefeet. “I’m glad to see, Yimbombollabu, that you hired a troupe of clowns to entertain us. Does he do tricks?” The Supreme Patriarch snorted and threw another muffin at the Ambassador, who flinched and barely managed to dodge out of the way. “Stupid ponies. Why you talk like them, hey?” An-Baykh smiled. “I attended school in Manehattan.” “Figures,” the Patriarch snorted in disgust. “It no surprise you in league with stupid ponies.” “Me? In league – with them?” The camel laughed. “We trade with them, you two-horned ignoramus. That’s all. Now, I want to hear from this unicorn why I should trade a beautiful spot like the Valley for the Mireland.” He gave the Ambassador a Speculative Look (56-e) that swiftly changed into the Camel version of a Patronizing Smirk (65-k). “Well? We’re waiting.” Cross Purposes blinked rapidly for a few moments before saying, “Giving the Mireland to the Kudu will grant them greater access to the Humpback Mountains – “ “Bah!” the Supreme Patriarch sneered. “Yodelinda Valley have all kinds tasty greens and grass. Mireland just bog of mud pits.” “But – but – but the Humpback Mountains are the Kudu’s ancestral homeland!” Cross Purposes sputtered. “Surely you’d want more access – “ Yimbombollabu waved this away with a hoof. “Is ancestral homeland, sure. But Kudu move many years ago, shove puny Pudu aside. Much nicer land, softer under hooves,” he added smugly. Reintief’s ears canted forward as he ate. Later that night, the earth pony and the rest of the Equestrian delegation were ushered aboard the ship that served as the Embassy. Reintief lagged behind the rest of the group, noting that stout iron bars had been bolted into place over all of the portholes. One of the kudu guards sneered at him, “We make sure stupid pony not get ashore tonight.” Reintief paused and looked the much taller kudu up and down. “Tell me: Does it hurt?” The kudu frowned as his brain shifted from first to second. “Does what hurt?” “This.” The earth pony made his way up the gangway as the kudu writhed on the dock, grasping one hoof and whimpering. “What was that all about, Reintief?” Mulegan asked. “What was what, Mister Mulegan?” “I thought I heard a heavy stomping sound.” “Ah. That was me, I’m afraid. I had some dirt in one hoof, and I didn’t want to track it aboard ship. Cleanliness is harmonious, you know.” The sallow unicorn bestowed a Sage Nod (3-g) on his subordinate. “Quite so, Reintief. We’ll make a gentlepony of you yet.” “I suppose it had to happen sooner or later,” Reintief said. Later, Reintief noted carefully that the bars on his cabin’s window were, in fact, very strong iron. They were secured to the sides of the ship with six-inch iron screws. It was a pity that the wood was riddled with dry rot. A bit of judicious work to keep the noise down, and the network of bars swung open a bit like a barn door. The earth pony swung a Cloak, for Nefarious Purposes, Late Night, over his back and started to climb out. “Psst! Reintief!” The voice was sibilant and accompanied by the droning of wings, and the pony found himself face to face with a Changeling. “Nice night for a seaside flit, Mandible.” The portly insectoid harrumphed a bit and crossed his forelegs. “Nuts to that. The Ambassador woke me up to go out and see what the Equestrians are up to, and here I find you breaking out of stir.” “Just stepping out for a breath of air. And what makes Ambassador Gaster think we’re up to something?” “You’re ponies. You have to be planning something,” Mandible said. “Besides, His Nibs felt a sudden spike in love coming from the main square today. That wasn’t expected.” “What was?” Mandible gave an impression of a Knowing Grin (11-i). “Never mind. The question was rhetorical, knowing the personalities involved.” Reintief thought for a moment. “If you report back that the Embassy of the Dual Thrones isn’t up to something, the Ambassador won’t believe you, right?” “Right,” the changeling said, a suspicious tone in his voice. “Then let’s give him what he wants. That way you can get in good with him.” Mandible brightened a bit. “That’s rather good of you, Reintief, in a spirit-of-chumship way of course.” “All right. Care to help draw the guards away from the dock for a moment? You can meet up with me two blocks inland, near the pudu quarter.” The hovering changeling pointed a perforated hoof at him. “No double-crossing, Reintief.” “You have my word.” Large compound eyes regarded the earth pony for a long moment, then Mandible buzzed away. A few minutes later Reintief heard the kudu guards yell, “Stupid pony! Come back!” and he started to climb out of his cabin.
A Few Words Over CiderCasus Foederis © 2015 by Walter Reimer Chapter 7. “These pudu give me the creeps,” Lieutenant Mandible hissed. Disguised as one of the diminutive deer, he hugged a mug of ale close to his chest as the other barflies glowered at him. Reintief had a simple mug of cider sitting on the table before him, while Fausti had come from behind the bar to join them. “It’s like they can see straight through me.” Reintief shrugged. “Maybe they’re just excellent judges of character.” Their pudu companion gave a dainty snort. “Mais non,” Fausti said, “we can see zat you are ze Changeling.” “What!” Mandible was so startled that he dropped the spell in a haze of green fire. “You mean – “ “Oui. Pudu have good eyes, and can see through ze shape-changing magics,” the pudu said, sipping at one of his special drinks. The foam that dripped from the side of the flagon sizzled against the stone floor. “Princess Cadence would probably love to talk to you about that,” the earth pony said. Mandible flinched, probably hearing Thorax screaming in the distance. “That probably explains why Hive Intelligence has never had any success here.” He frowned at Fausti. “Treacherous pudu,” he hissed. “So it was you lot that thwarted our first attempt.” The little cervine gave the insectoid a hoof gesture that had obscure, yet blatant, biological connotations. “Your mother was a can opener, and your father smelled of ze lubrifiants industriels.“ “Gentlebeings,” Reintief admonished quietly as the two stared daggers at each other. “’First attempt?’” he asked Mandible. Harrumphing that he’d let the proverbial cat out of the bag, the Changeling grumbled, “Her Maj decided to try her luck on Kuduvania before infiltrating Canterlot. It didn’t work, and now I know why – a lot of our agents started having ‘swimming accidents.’” “I didn’t think Changelings could swim.” “They can’t,” Mandible said, giving Fausti a glare that Reintief interpreted as the immortal I’m On To You, Buster (21-y). “And I can’t help thinking that Her Majesty Queen Chrysalis would like you calling her ‘Her Maj’ about as much as she’d like to have the Princesses drop by for tea,” Reintief countered. “Are you going to tell her?” “Hardly. But since Changelings are famously connected to the Queen via the Hive-Mind, I can’t help thinking that she might hear you.” At this the insectlike creature flinched, and the earth pony and the pudu both chuckled. “Fausti, you said in your message that you wanted to talk.” “Oui, Reintief. Fausti wishes to know why you asked for delay in ze Puduvanian Liberation Front’s plans to massacre ze Supreme Patriarch?” “I thought we’d discussed that. The Princesses would not look favorably at a massacre – “ “No!” The pudu slammed his little hoof on the table. “We have heard of your Ambassador’s plans, Reintief, to give ze Camels ze Valley.” He glowered at the earth pony. “Perhaps we also massacre ze Ambassador.” “That won’t be a good idea.” “Pfui! Maybe we kill ze Ambassador, ze Patriarch, and ze Sultan,” Fausti said contemptuously. “Why do the Pudu want the Yodelinda Valley so badly?” Reintief asked. “We have our reasons,” one of the pudu in the background muttered. His drinking companion had drawn a knife, and was slowly stropping it against the table. “Which are? I mean, apart from the Kudu shoving you out of your homeland?” Dead silence greeted this, punctuated by a clatter as a mug struck the floor. Mandible looked around quickly, his wings starting to twitch in agitation. “I say, Reintief old buddy old pal . . . I have a sudden yen to go out and, um – look at the Moon! Yes, that’s it! I’ll just fly right out of here – “ The earth pony put out a hoof as the changeling bolted for the door, causing the hapless insectoid to crash into the ground with a clatter of chitin. Reintief delicately rested the hoof on Mandible’s abdomen at the junction of his left hock and the shank below it. When the changeling tried to move, the earth pony exerted only a slight amount of pressure and Mandible got the hint. Ignoring the muttered imprecations of “Vile pony” and “Treacherous Equestrian,” Reintief turned back to Fausti. “I’m waiting.” “You cannot think to beat all of us, Reintief,” the little pudu hissed. “I don’t need to. Just follow you and disrupt your plans. Now, spill it.” The bartender looked grumpy. He waved a hoof at his compatriots, who settled back into their seats. A few put away knives as Fausti said, “Oh, tres bien. Oui, the Valley is ze ancestral home of ze Pudu nation. We are zat close to getting it back,” and he held his hooves about an inch apart to illustrate his point, “and ze Pudu Liberation Front will not wait any longer.” “So what are you planning?” When Fausti failed to reply Reintief added, “Their Highnesses would not look kindly on the demise of two heads of state and their envoy.” “You threaten Fausti?” “I never threaten.” Mandible tried to struggle free, but subsided, whining, as the earth pony almost broke the changeling’s leg. Fausti tapped his dainty hooves on the table as he made his mind up. He glanced around the room, and two or three of the others in the room nodded. “We shall kidnap ze Patriarch’s sister.” Reintief raised one eyebrow. Mandible stopped trying to wriggle out from under Reintief’s hoof. “Taking it as read that the Supreme Patriarch apparently hates his sister, what do you hope to accomplish?” “Zose of us who have infiltrated ze Palace have seen at lunch zat ze Sultan is taken with ze Itchykitchkoo,” one pudu said from across the room. “And maybe she is a little sweet upon him, too,” another opined. Reintief looked down at Mandible, who clicked his fangs and twitched his wings in a changeling version of the classic Don’t Look At Me (10-l). “Let me get this straight, then. You plan on kidnapping Itchykitchkoo, and just sit back and wait for the magic of friendship to work things out in your favor?” “Mais oui. What could possibly go wrong?”
Mission BriefingCasus Foederis © 2014 by Walter Reimer MLP:FiM is the property of Hasbro, Inc. Abject apologies to the ghost of Keith Laumer. Chapter 1: Mission Briefing " . . . Although the untutored laypony may not realize it, or at least may doubt it, the hardworking diplomats and bureaucrats of the Corps labor tirelessly to implement the Princess' will and bring harmony to Equestria's neighbors. A fine example of this is the behind-the-scenes efforts of Ambassador Cross Purposes in helping facilitate the Camel-Kudu Alliance in 1020 . . . " - Corps Diplomatique Equestrienne, Official History The valley was a kaleidoscope of various shades of green, with meadows of grass and wildflowers interrupting wide, dense stretches of old-growth forest. Birds flew overhead against a sky dotted with fluffy cumulus clouds, and orchids added splashes of color to the limbs of the trees. Through it all, a wide river tumbled over rapids to the northeast and slowed to a broad meander. Suddenly, the valley seemed to shake, and the river and the birds froze in mid-flow and mid-flight. Harsh, jagged diagonal lines appeared, marring the valley’s perfection, and everything went blue. “Blast it, Power Point!” the Trade Attache snapped, giving his unfortunate unicorn aide a hoof to the side of the head. “Can’t you hold an image for more than three minutes?” “Sorry, sir,” the unicorn said, “but it’s a bit of a strain.” The blue faded as his horn stopped glowing, revealing the scarred and none too clean deck of the ship. “I’m still – “ “Seasick. Yes, we all know,” and Trade Attache Swap Meet turned to the other ponies in the cabin. “Anyway, gentlecolts, that’s the main bit of contention. The Yodelinda Valley. Beautiful countryside, rare flowers and animals found hardly anywhere else – “ “Stuff it, Swap,” the Ambassador said. “Save the travelogues for the brochures. The Yodelinda Valley’s a strategic piece of property between the Camel Sultanates and the Kuduvanian Patriarchy.” Cross Purposes, the Ambassador Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary of Equestria to Kuduvania, gave his assembled staff his personal variation on a Purposeful Grimace (1778-j). Unfortunately, his personal variation on the venerable expression made the slightly built, pudgy unicorn look slightly dyspeptic. “Tensions between the two nations are increasing, and the Foreign Minister has it direct from the Princesses themselves – “ “No war, eh?” the Military Attache, Colonel Mess Kit, snorted (523-a). “Waste of time, if you ask me. We should just let the Camels and the Kudu fight it out, and take the Valley for ourselves, eh?” The pegasus gave the Ambassador a Cheeky Grin Between Stallions of the World (276-s(1)), but hastily recovered himself as Cross Purposes glowered at him. “Colonel, the Corps Diplomatique Equestrienne is devoted, heart and soul, to the maintenance of peaceful relations just short of war. Get that through that thick skull of yours. You’re no Commander Hurricane, despite what your mother may have told you.” His horn flared with a glow of bilious green as he straightened his semi-formal Vest, Early-Mid-Afternoon to its proper alignment with his cutie mark, which depicted two diametrically-opposed arrows. “We’re trying to prevent a war, not encourage one.” “May I make a suggestion, Your Excellency?” quavered the Third Secretary. “What is it, Mulegan?” Cross Purposes asked in tones of Barely Suppressed Contempt (4073-a). Ben Mulegan fiddled with his own vest, only to make it look more askew than usual. “Well, it seems to me that since the Camels occupy the Valley, why not ask them to trade a bit of territory they don’t want to the Kudus?” His vest slipped again as he twitched nervously, revealing his own cutie mark of a slice of toast impaled on a bottle of milk. “Such as?” Swap Meet asked in a Condescending Manner (607-q). Mulegan looked diffident. “Um, well, that is, er – “ “What Mr. Mulegan is trying to say,” his aide said, “is that the Kudus may be willing to take the Mireland in exchange for not engaging in hostilities with the Camels over the rights to the valley.” The tall and athletically-built earth pony nodded to the sallow unicorn, who gulped and nodded. “What Reintief said.” Mulegan’s ears drooped. Cross Purposes considered the suggestion, his expression one of Deep Thought (8-b), leavened with an appropriate amount of Unwillingness to Appear Too Condescending (1025-a) . “Mulegan, that is the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard. Have you seen the Mireland?” he demanded as the unfortunate Third Secretary wilted like a flower in a blast furnace. “Nothing but volcanic fumaroles, sulfurous gases and hot mud pits. No! Gentlecolts, we must think outside the paddock on this!” There was a pause as the members of the Mission thought through possible solutions. They all looked up attentively as the Ambassador crashed a hoof against the deck. “I have it!” the envoy declared. “We simply persuade the Camels to offer a parcel of land to the Kudu in exchange for their unrestricted rights to the Valley – say, the Mireland region.” His aides dutifully applauded the envoy’s originality and initiative. “Wonderful idea, Sir!” “Brilliant!” “Way to go, Boss!” The Ambassador basked briefly in the approbation and ritualized grimaces of his subordinates, bestowing on them his own Gracious Acknowledgement (455-r), mingled with undertones of Noblesse Oblige (241-h) before quieting the group with an upraised hoof. “Now, now, let us not get too carried away, fellows. After all, we may be putting the ore cart before the Diamond Dog. The Sultan Shaykh an-Baykh will be arriving for talks with His Supremacy, and it’s up to me – er, the Equestrian Embassy, to keep them talking as long as possible.” “To keep relations just short of war, Sir?” one bright young aide asked, sotto voce. The Trade Attache gave the colt a dig in the ribs and whispered, “And to pad out the old expense account. Haven’t you learned anything yet, Privet?” “Golly, Mr. Meet, real field work’s a lot different than what I learned in the Academy, is all.” “Cross Purposes is a master at this. Celestia will turn gray before – “ Swap Meet suddenly broke off and grinned innocently (26-b) as he caught his superior glaring at him. The Ambassador harrumphed. “Part of our negotiations will be to make sure that the Embassy is fully capable of hosting the summit talks.” “Good luck with that,” Mess Kit said, gesturing around at the barely seaworthy ship that currently housed the Embassy of Equestria. “You’d think the Kudu could at least have gotten the stink of rotting seaweed out of the woodwork.” “You, a military pony, unused to sleeping rough, Colonel?” Cross Purposes asked. The Pegasus cleared his throat. “Not at all, Your Excellency. Nothing like bivouacking on a wild cloud, or among the earth ponies and unicorns in the infantry, no sir.” “Then stop complaining, or you’ll be the one holystoning the decks. Take heart, fellows! We’ll get through this, maintaining peace and settling things to my – er, to everyone’s satisfaction.” He glanced up at an atonal blare of trumpets. “Ah. That’ll be His Supremacy. Confounded non-ponies – can’t they play trumpets decently?” He led his retinue to the passageway leading to the top deck, leaving Mulegan and Reintief bringing up the rear. “I say, Reintief,” the earth pony gushed, “the Ambassador really has a penetrating intellect, doesn’t he?” Reintief tapped a hoof against his chin. “I notice a decided shortage of wet paper bags around, Mr. Mulegan, so I guess your theory will have to stay unproven.” “Nonsense, Reintief! You really should have more faith in the Ambassador’s negotiating skills. Cross Purposes cut his teeth, peace talks-wise, when he fought off three trained Griffin negotiators at the fabled Table-shape Argument during the dispute over the Haylee Mills.” “I think that the Ambassador may have met his match in the Supreme Patriarch,” Reintief remarked. “I hear he has an unfortunate tendency to gore enemies on his horns, then incinerate them with his magic.” “The Kudu can do magic?” Mulegan asked. At Reintief’s nod he seemed to get a bit paler. “That wasn’t in the briefing scrolls, and as we know those are fully comprehensive, what you just said must be just an old mare’s story.” He gave his head a toss to flip his mane back into shape and proceeded to the upper deck, leaving Reintief alone. The earth pony glanced back at his broken-sword cutie mark for a moment before following. The ship that housed the Embassy had its sails furled, which allowed the southern sun to fall unimpeded on the main deck. Shades had been rigged by the crew, but it wasn’t doing much to fend off the heat. From the mainmast, the banner of the Two Royal Sisters hung limply. The crew was a group of twenty small antelopes, much smaller than the tall kudu and only half the size of the ponies assembling on the deck. One wearing a leather circlet trotted up to the Ambassador and said, “’Ere you are. Ze Patriarch, he iz waiting.” “Very well. Invite him aboard,” and as the small deer walked away Cross Purposes muttered, “Confounded Pudu. Don’t know why the Kudu have them around . . . “ The Counselor caught his boss’s words. “The, er, Pudu are sort of, well, that is – “ “They’re slaves,” Reintief interjected. “I’ll hear none of that!” the Ambassador snapped. “The Princesses deplore slavery. These unfortunate Pudu are an underclass, nothing more. They do many of the jobs that the Kudu can’t.” “Like sailing?” one junior aide ventured. “Exactly,” and the Ambassador allowed the young fellow to smile before adding, “but remember that the Kudu hardly notice them, so we won’t either – in the interest of amity and in the best traditions of the Corps. Remember the CDE’s motto.” “Non fluctus,” the rest solemnly intoned. “Don’t make waves.” The Embassy staff came to attention and bowed as another horn fanfare blared and a tall antelope with two twisted horns on his head strode onto the gangway. He wore a light blue silk cape over his withers and chains of amulets and charms in gold and mother-of-pearl hung from his neck. The kudu looked around at the ship, and casually kicked the pudu captain off the gangway and into the waters of the harbor. His way thus unimpeded, he walked onto the deck. The Ambassador and the Embassy party bowed. “Your Supremacy,” Cross Purposes said, “I greet you to – er, aboard – the Equestrian Embassy to Kuduvania, in the Princess’ names, and – “ “Yimbombollabu,” the tall kudu grumbled his name. “Kuduvania strong, proud nation. Don’t need no prissy ponies or their poncey Princesses.” He looked around, and the much smaller pudus immediately vanished. There was a cacophony of slammed hatches, leaving two of their mates behind. Those two leaped overboard rather than face the wrath of the Kuduvanian leader. There was a concerted gasp from the ponies on the deck. “Now see here,” Colonel Mess Kit started, only to subside at a raised hoof from the Ambassador. The AE&MP assayed an Amused Whinny (2386-D), taking care to do it behind his hoof in the time-honored Insincere Gesture in the Presence of Inferiors (2386-K) variation. This drew admiring gazes from the junior members of the Embassy as Cross Purposes said, “Your Supremacy makes a little joke,” he tittered. “Without the Princesses to raise the Sun and Moon – “ “You ponies are idiots,” the kudu leader said with a nonchalant flip of his hoof. “Sun and Moon rise and fall as they will. Princesses just do fancy light show and fool you.” His Supremacy turned around, missing the Ambassador’s Outraged Look (444-f) and looking around at the ship. “Like the ship. Rotting seaweed good odor for ponies. Reminds them of their place when the Sultan gets here,” and he concluded this by spitting expertly over the rail. “Sultan here tomorrow,” and his horns glowed, sending a Jacob’s Ladder of miniature lightning bolts dancing between them. “Ah, er,” Cross Purposes stammered at the display. “Sultan give up Yodelina Valley, or there be war drums,” and the lightning grew a bit brighter and more sustained. “The Corps Diplomatique – “ “Kudus have great army.” His Supremacy was clearly warming to his subject. “Crush the stupid Camels, and decorate my throne with Sultan’s head.” He gave a final contemptuous snort and stepped back onto the gangway. He paused to look over his shoulder at the Ambassador, who gaped openmouthed back at him. “You come to dinner at Sundown Song,” and he left before a suitable reply could be made. A group of junior aides, led by the Chief of Mission and the Military Attache, clustered around the Ambassador as Mulegan took Reintief aside. “Good heavens, Reintief,” Mulegan said as he mopped his forehead with a lace hoofkerchief, “Ambassador Cross Purposes certainly has his work cut out for him.” “Judging from the edges on His Supremacy’s horns,” Reintief observed, “His Excellency had better be in top form, or his work won’t be the only thing cut out of him.”
