Fizzlepop, the Conquistador

“You shouldn’t let kirins lie to you.”

The kind of phrase that had been passed around between comrades huddled close to their campfires for eons. I’d never put much stock in campfire stories, especially when there were proper things to be concerned about.

Pirates, Ursa Majors, Ponies with more power than sense, those were proper things to be worried about. Kirins though, why should they be different than anyone else in the case of lying. We had no reason to put any stock in local superstition and hearsay, we already had problems of our own.

Looking forward, I shall need to make sure our cultural attache isn’t a political appointment so we don’t encounter the same… difficulties.

-Equestrian Expeditionary Service, Commanders personal log

“Commander?”

“Commander? I’ve brought coffee.”

With a sigh, the teal eye cracked open in the dim light of the cabin to locate the source of the disturbance.

“Commander. I’ve had the chef brew it special, I even had him put in a little chocolate like you like.”

Settling on the stout foal at the foot of the bunk, the purple eye blinked, and was rubbed with the back of a hoof. The rest of the pony materialized from beneath the heavy blanket moments later.

“Squire Wick,” the mare formerly known as Tempest began.

“Don’t worry, ma’am. No one’s dead.” said Wick, beginning the process of pulling open the heavy decorative curtains that covered the windows above the bed.

With a sigh, she rolled from the bed. The warmth from the boards began to soak into her hooves as she stood, contemplating for a moment the rude interruption of what had been a very… pleasant, dream.

Rounding on Wick, who by this point had pulled the curtains back and was tying off the ropes. Opened her mouth to ask a rather pointed question, when the smell of hot coffee began to work its way into her brain. “I assume… you will be giving me a full report?”

“Of course, ma’am.” came the reply from Wick as he pulled the sheets back into place and flattened out the covers.

Fizzlepop stood for a moment letting that delicious heat soak into her hooves before gathering her mug of steaming coffee. The aroma of just such a cup, a welcome reprieve from the horror of having been awoken. She squinted at her deep rich coffee then to the windows. A thick cloud layer sat against the tempered glass, a deep orange light was filtering through the swirling layers. “Wick, what time is it?”

“Twenty-One Thirty, ma’am.” Wick had moved to the wardrobe and was in the process of putting together her formal outfit.

“Why in the f…” she closed her eyes and took an overly large sip of delicious sweet coffee and began again. “Wick, did I not just go to sleep not two hours ago?”

“You did, ma’am.” came the response from the diminutive squire, who was in the process of polishing the buttons to a shine. “There’s been an incident.”

With a sigh she drained the rest of the mug. “Very well.”

“...And that’s when he took Mr. Quicksilvers sash.” Wick stood at attention, hooves firmly planted to the deck, snout pointed somewhere just north of the horizon.

“I see, and that’s the full story is it?” Fizzlepop watched the “Kirin” from under her hat, eyes taking in the scene playing out on the main deck.

A detachment of marines, soaked through and through stood at attention behind the cultural attache, himself soaked to the bone. Without, she noticed with some interest, his customary sash. The kirin stood opposite, the missing sash casually hung over themselves.

She nodded to wick and as a unit they made their way to the deck. The marines, ever vigilant, noticed her before the cultural attache, and saluted.

Their captain, a mare called “Brightwillow” saluted to the pair. “Ma’am, as per Mr. Quicksilvers orders, we have brought this Kirin aboard. Apologies about the state of dress, there’s a bit of a squall going on below.”

“I see, and you sent Squire Wick to update me on the situation?” Fizzlepop inclined her head slightly towards the kirin, who was staring at quicksilver with a sense of boredom only to be matched by his intense gaze.

“Yes ma’am, this is…”

“This is a thief!” screamed quicksilver, throwing his hooves to the sky. “As cold blooded as the mountains of the griffon kingdoms! As wretched as the changelings cowering in their hives. As loquacious as those insipid…”

“That’s enough, Mr. Quicksilver.” Fizzlepop took a step forward.

Mr. Quicksilver suddenly found himself staring into a dozen little images of himself in the form of overly polished buttons that adorned her jacket. “I…” he paused and glared daggers at the Kirin before looking back up into Fizzlepops face. “He stole my sash. It was given to me by…”

Fizzlepop held up a hoof, silencing him before he could dip into another tirade. Looking to the kirin she raised her chin, set her hooves slightly apart and with an air of practiced ease gave a bow.

Mr. Quicksilver’s face took on a particularly interesting shade of puce at this development.

“My apologies, if you have been detained against your will.”

“I have not.” the kirin blinked slowly. “I had heard of your… expedition and the great ship upon which you have traveled. I wanted to see it for myself. The smaller ship that brought me here, the…”

“Pondskipper.” offered Wick.

“Pondskipper.” continued the Kirin, “It was a bit tight on the quarters.”

“I can imagine, it is just a transport ship, something we use to ferry supplies and personnel to areas we cannot land within.” Fizzlepop inclined her head ever so slightly towards the kirin. “But where are my manners, I am the Expeditionary Commander Fizzlepop Berrytwist.”

“I see.” Said the kirin, blinking slowly.

A brief silence followed before Wick coughed into his hoof.

“My name is Orange Marmalade.” The kirins eyes shifted to Mr. Quicksilver. “And he gifted me this sash.”

“That is an outright Lie!” sputtered Mr. Quicksilver.

Fizzlepop silenced him with an upraised hoof. “We shall get to the bottom of this.” she began, rounding on Mr. Quicksilver. “But first, is it really necessary to create all this ruckus over a simple sash?”

“It is no simple sash! It is a symbol of Equestria, of my station, of The Princesses!” Mr. Quicksilver stamped his hoof on the deck, It was a hollow sound.

Wick shifted uncomfortably next to Commander Fizzlepop. “Ma’am…” he began.

“Captain Brightwillow.” Commander Fizzlepops teal eyes were at that moment boring into Mr. Quicksilvers own.

“Ma’am.” Captain Brightwillow shifted slightly, widening her stance.

“Please escort Mr. Quicksilver to the galley, see that he and your marines are fed and dried.” Her eyes never leaving Mr. Quicksilvers.

“Yes Ma’am.” Brightwillow turned to her marines, and as a unit they shuffled Mr. Quicksilver to the central hatch and out of sight.

“Are you enjoying the squash, Ms. Orange?” Fizzlepop asked, and took a bite of butter drenched spice bread.

“I am.” She sipped on Equestrian wine, the notes of black currant and warm spices leaving an aftertaste upon her tongue and swirled the glass slightly. “I’ve been thinking back on my interaction with Mr. Quicksilver.”

“Oh?” Fizzlepop sat back slightly and sipped her iced tea, her eyes flicking to the door as Wick pushed open the door, a tray of salad balanced on his back.

“I suppose I may have misinterpreted.” She set her glass to the tabletop and took another bite of the cooked and salted squash. “You see, he had left it on a tree branch. In my culture, a gift left at the edge of the village is a sign of friendship.”

“I see.” and accepted a salad as Wick swapped her plates. It took her a moment to locate the grape leaf wrap hidden in the salad, with great care she scooped it up and ate it whole.

Silence descended over the diners for a moment and then Fizzlepop sat forward, her chair creaked slightly as she did. “So, what do you propose we do?”

“I suppose, I could return it to Mr. Quicksilver.” Ms. Orange played with the sash idly and then took another sip of her wine. “However, this would be considered a great insult to my village, to take back a gift freely given.” she stared into her wine, before looking up to Fizzlepop and blinked.

“Ma’am?”

“Ma’am?”

Fizzlepop Blinked, and looked down at the diminutive pony to her right. “Yes, Wick?”

“What are your intentions Ma’am?”

“That is a good question, Squire Wick. What are we to do? On one hoof, we ask Ms. Orange to return the sash to Mr. Quicksilver. But this could cause… difficulties, back in Canterlot. On the other, we are here to gather information and make connections in the wider world beyond Equestria’s borders.” She set her hooves slightly apart and stared out across the bow, the moonlight playing over the cloud tops as they circled the Kirin village far below.

“I see, but… why not just take back the gift or offer them something else?” Wick followed her line of sight but then snapped his eyes back to her upturned jawline.

“Creating an incident with a local village may hamper efforts in the entire region, depending on how in touch this town is with others. Not to mention that Kirin are incredibly rare. There’s only one other known village that we are currently aware of. If we offend them now, it will make any efforts to incorporate them that much more difficult later.” She tore her gaze from the horizon and settled her eyes on Wick. “Perhaps… we shall attempt a compromise.”

“Absolutely unacceptable!”

“We are here on a diplomatic mission and you, Mr. Quicksilver as cultural representative should be more than happy to provide every comfort to our guest. Especially as Ms. Orange has said a gift given freely is a sign of trust and friendship.”

“I don’t care! I want my sash!”

“Mr. Quicksilver, this behavior is entirely unbecoming of an upstanding Equestrian citizen.”

“Well I…”

“He can have it.” In the doorway, stood Ms. Orange sash in hoof.

“I… can?” sputtered out Mr. Quicksilver.

Fizzlepop watched as he began to puff himself back up, she wondered briefly just how much of this ridiculous pony was simply air.

“Of course.” Ms. Orange walked slowly over and placed the sash around his neck, letting her hoof rest on his chin. “How else are we to be married?”

For a moment Mr. Quicksilver looked as if he was going to respond, and then the color drained from his face and like a balloon with a puncture, slid to the floor.

Ms.Orange laughed, it was a mirthy sound full of humour and impish glee.

Fizzlepop stared at the absolutely bizarre sight in front of her and glanced to Wick who simply shrugged.

With a last chuckle, Ms.Orange wiped an imaginary tear from her eye. “Thank you, that was the most fun I’ve had in ages.”

Fizzlepop stared at the Kirin, “Fun?”

“Oh of course, we love playing tricks on unsuspecting passersby. It’s all simply in good fun, and don’t worry. All that about a great insult to my village was just part of the charade. What say next time, dinners on us.” She grinned at Fizzlepop.

“I… I’m not sure I understand. This was all a joke?” Fizzlepop looked down at Mr. Quicksilver who had fainted.

Ms. Orange grinned even wider. “Don’t you know? You should never let Kirins lie to you.”