Fallout: Equestria - Parallelism

We take off. I close my eyes. I hope the vertibuck doesn't fall and explode to hell.

Some time passes, and it feels like we're safely off the platform, and the pegasus makes a test flight over the expanse of the Vanhoover Wasteland. The flight is quite stable, light and pleasant. The transport shakes and sways slightly, but that's okay—Motley's trying to adjust to the controls. She also reports that everything works within normal limits. All in all, everything is fine. Occasionally the vertibuck leans abruptly to the side—the pegasus has 'messed up a few buttons' a couple of times.

I realize that she hasn't operated something like this in a long time, but... I hope she doesn't mix up a few essential buttons and levers, or accidentally turn off the engine at all, otherwise I won't see any strawberry dessert.

Despite these minor problems, the feeling of flying is excellent: during the test run my knees stop shaking and the smile on my face gets wider and wider. Not only because I'm flying in the sky, but also because my vertibuck works properly without a hitch. It just needs a little workout to get in shape, to shake off the dust, so to speak. More importantly, it means shorter travel times. He could get anywhere in the Wasteland in a relatively short amount of time.

And it wouldn't have to be repaired over and over again, like Bear. That's a thought I can't get enough of. I'll keep it in the cave as a memory of Lilac.

Having adjusted to the controls, Motley wonders where she should go now. I tell her where to, so we fly to the Steel Rangers and land not far from their base in a rocky area so they don't want to see us, or they'll take the vertibuck and leave me with nothing. The vertibuck's coloring makes it hardly noticeable, so the chance of being detected by a passerby tends to zero.

"Motley," I cheerfully address the pegasus as I get out of the transport, "this bird is wonderful. I can't get enough of it." She doesn't answer anything, only gets up silently from the pilot's seat. That's when I remember something. "You better stay in the vertibuck, okay? I don't think you should go to the Steel Ranger base. You'll get even more attention than me. I mean, you're a former Enclave scout, and if this gets out, you'll be the subject of special interest in all sorts of ways."

"Whatever you say," the beige pegasus says indifferently.

"Thank you. I won't be long. I have something to give and a ranger to pick up; she can be... trust."

"You mean Berry?"

"Yes, she can definitely help solve the problem with the Heavenly Harbor security system. So I'll be quick."

***

In a short time I reach the Steel Ranger base. At the entrance, they recognize me and let me in without reservation. In the bunker, they tell me that Lemon is busy at the moment and will only be able to come up in a little while. In order not to waste time waiting for her, I go to the Elder, but as it turns out, she is having a meeting with the senior officers and heads of the Steel Rangers, which, unfortunately, Greenkeys are also present—and I thought I would slightly study with her.

While the meeting is going on, I go to Discharger to have a drink and relax. I hope it won't be too long, making Motley bored—because I told her I was making a quick run in and out. She'll be all right, she's a scout and should have plenty of patience for long periods of time.

In the Steel Rangers' lounge I order my favorite whiskey and go to the second level of the room. There at a small card table sits a dark orange earth pony with a black mane. He has an interesting marking: a dark gray cloud with the yellow sickle of the moon hiding behind it. I noticed this pony as he beckoned to me as if he knew me by sight. I approach him with an interested look.

"What brings you here again?" he asks in a very warm tone. His voice is familiar. He looks at me as if I were an acquaintance. "Sit down, let's talk about the meaning of life and all that."

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" I ask with a confused smile, sitting down at the card table.

"Of course you do," he laughs merrily, "you don't remember me, and we explored the underground iron trunk together like radroaches. When we met, my partner was giving you the stink eye... well... we can assume he was giving you the stink eye, given the helmet."

"Pervert, is that you?"

The expression on his face instantly takes on a menacing look. I raise my front hooves in a defensive gesture, "Easy, I'm joking."

I wonder who this pony reminds me of. He looks like his father, with the same resolute and firm gaze, only younger and a different color coat.

"So what brings you here?" Hugh Willford repeats, looking at me closely.

"Looking for Lemon. And yes, I already know she's in a meeting right now, so I came in here to pass the time."

"It should last about twenty more minutes, and you can play a few games in that time." The orange stallion explicitly pulls out a deck of cards. "Will you keep me company?"

"Why not," I smile. "And you, I take it, are slacking off on your service?"

"No," he replies, shuffling the cards deftly with his hooves.

Once again I am amazed at the tenacity of the pony's limbs without the fingers I'm accustomed to: magic is involved here. Personally, I never learned it.

"I came here myself a few minutes before you did. As you can see, very few ponies have a break at this time."

I look around the second level again: there are indeed far fewer ponies here than when I first visited the place.

"What do you do now?" he asks. He returns my gaze to himself, after which I hand out cards.

"Trying to get close to Prince, and I also want to be a King."

"Wow," Hugh is visibly surprised, "you're taking a dangerous path, my friend. It is risky, for you will be quite famous. Either you'll make the mistake of stumbling on that pedestal of popularity and fame and get smashed to pieces. Why would you do that?"

"I'm a gambling pony, often putting my life on the line," I answer jokingly. I pick up my cards and glance at them. "All the time I'm blowing a lot of caps. But someday my luck will turn away from me at just the right moment, and that's it, so I use it while I can. And I wonder what can be done about this slavery. I want a better life for everyone, so that everyone can reach their potential."

Hugh only smiles at my words.

"No doubt it sounds good, but be prepared to meet resistance to these ideals and principles. No matter what your decision, there will always be someone who will dispute it. Especially in the Wasteland. This is a difficult time for all of us... I've seen enough films, pictures taken before the megaspells fell, so I know what I'm talking about."

And decisions can cost the lives of many innocent ponies and more.

"And you're not interested in what I mean by 'a better life'?"

"I don't really care. Since there are pros and cons everywhere. Even if I do voice an opinion on your plans, it will only be one's opinion; and everyone, as we both know, sees things in the world differently. And I don't want to have anything to do with it. It's better to ask those who are interested in it or who will be most affected by it. I'm just trying to do the best I can while still managing to live my life to my satisfaction."

Finished with distracted conversations, we discuss only the card game.

I play a few games of poker with the orange stallion, of which I win most of them. When I learn that the meeting is over, I say goodbye to Hugh and head to the Elder on level four, meeting her along with Lemon on the way. They're having a heated discussion outside the office, but as soon as they see me, they shut up.

"Oh, what's up, Daniel? Did you bring us spices and sweets?" asks Lemon in his usual joking tone, as if oblivious to his conversation with the Elder.

"Of course, my yellowish berry," I reply on the same cheerful note. Lemon rolls his eyes, smiling.

"Come into my office, both of you," the elderly light beige pony suddenly utters.

"Well done," she praises me already in her office as I give her the yellow key card.

Just a pat on the shoulder and 'well done'. Quite expected, nothing to be surprised about, but still there was a slight feeling of frustration. Although I'm not looking for material rewards, but... The Steel Rangers have advanced technology and important information. They could have at least provided some rare knowledge or access to their assortment, that is, they would have shown trust.

Although they already allow me a lot of things by trying to 'recruit' me. However, I have just confirmed my good intentions toward the steelheads. Yes, I'm looking for Project Dome, and I need the key-cards, but they already have a pink key-card that they won't give me. So I want to earn their trust by giving them the key-cards, so that I can then gain clearance to search for this 'mythical' facility.

"Anything else?" asks the Elder, looking at my frustrated face. Better to remain silent and wait it out.

"No. I'll go ahead and keep looking. Do you have any idea where the next such thing might be?" I ask, ignoring my frustration.

"Unfortunately, no. Go on, maybe you'll have better luck than we did. Dismissed," the Elder says the last word loudly. I walk out of the office, followed by the lemon pony.

"You thought you'd get something in return?" she asks mockingly, guessing what I wanted from the Elder.

"I hoped." I stare longingly at the cold metal walls in front of me, then turn to Lemon's slightly chubby cheeks. "But that's not why I came here. I need your help."

"My help? You?" Lemon asks, pretending to be surprised. "It's something extraordinary," she smiles.

"Yes, yes, I know. I need your help reprogramming one nest's security system. Can you help?"

"I can help with that..." she hesitates a little and then adds, "...as a thank you for the key; but where is this nest of yours?"

"In the mountain, and almost at the very top."

"Wow," the pony suddenly frowns, "with power armor it's going to be hard to get there."

"Don't worry, I've got it under control: we'll get your heavy steel ass to the right place in a few minutes," I say. Her eye twitches slightly at the word 'heavy'.

Oh... I was thinking of power armor, wasn't I?

"How? Can you teleport us there, super duper wizard?" There are three things I can watch endlessly: the way the fire burns, the way the water flows... and how Lemon reacts to sarcastic comments about herself.

"If you agree to help, I'll show you my ace," I smirk. Lemon squints.

"You... intrigue me," she says, barely audible, after some thought. "Okay, I will. Now show me."

"Don't you have anything else to do?"

"I'm the Star Paladin!" the chubby pony strikes a dramatic pose. It looks cute and funny. "I have the right to do what I want. And there's not much to do besides the usual patrols."

Lemon goes off to gather her gear and put on her power armor.

I wait for her on the surface, and together we head for the vertibuck. When she reaches it, the lemon pony stands still, paralyzed, at the sight of this wondrous flying machine: her jaw is about to drop. Lemon is quite rich in emotion, that's for sure.

"What treasure house did you find this in?" Lemon asks in a shocked voice, slowly approaching the transport.

"Heavenly Harbor," I grin. "That's the bunker I was talking about."

"Too bad we suck at riding mountains..." Lemon is suddenly silent when he sees Motley emerge from the vertibuck, immediately adopts a fighting stance and aims his guns at the pegasus, and the latter in turn prepares hers.

"Whoa-whoa!" I exclaim, in an instant teleporting—literally, thanks to my training—between Motley and Lemon, standing with my back to the first. "Chill out! She's my pilot."

"I thought she'd discovered the vertibuck and wanted to put her raking and filthy hooves on it. Can she be trusted?" Lemon whispers last words with caution.

"I've only known her one day."

"Understood," Lemon changes from wariness to friendliness, and relaxes. "My name is 'Berry', and what's yours?"

"Motley Cloud," I hear the pegasus's casual reply as she takes Lemon out of the sights of her guns.

"A pleasure, Motley."

"It's noticeable," Motley replies as if the 'a pleasure' in Lemon's performance was clearly a forced line.

"You mean that I was the first one to point guns at you?" Lemon asks, clearly noticing it too. "So... better overdoing than underdoing," she explains with a smile. The beige pegasus does not answer. Lemon, with great curiosity, like a foal seeing an incredibly cool and beautiful toy, begins inspecting the vertibuck, completely throwing the gloomy-as-weather pegasus out of his mind.

"Daniel," the earth pony turns to me after the inspection, "just don't flash that vertibuck in front of the Steel Rangers like a flashlight in the dark."

"I know. Well, don't you want to take it for the Steel Rangers?" I ask cautiously. Though somehow I'm sure she won't give me away.

"I wish I could, but they won't give you anything in return anyway. Maybe if I stay with you a while longer, you'll dig another vertibuck for us. Let's fly, I suppose?" Lemon asks with anticipation in his voice, looking at me and then at the pegasus. The earth pony is already shuffling her legs like a little filly with impatience.

"Definitely," I utter it and Lemon disappears inside the vertibuck in a flash. I smile and follow her.

"You never did come up with a name for vertibuck," Motley says suddenly, walking behind me. That's right... and I forgot.

"A name?" Lemon looks at Motley curiously, only she and we find ourselves inside. "Why?"

"Pilots have always given their vehicles some informal name. Tradition," the pegasus explains to her.

"Venture," I say, the first thing that comes to mind.

"Venture?" Lemon and Motley ask simultaneously, then look at each other.

"Considering," I ponder with a touch of nostalgia, "that I've often found myself in the most dangerous places in the Wasteland, while still managing to get away in one piece. Almost. I'm drawn to the unknown, and this vertibuck will represent my adventurous explorations... No, not even that: it will witness, and sometimes it will push me to them, because it gives me the perfect opportunity to get to places inaccessible to non-flying creatures like me. Without it, I wouldn't get there."

"Interesting name... For air transport. I hope we don't fall off the grid in these ventures of yours," Lemon smirks. "Don't forget about us if you ever think of doing any of that stuff, or I'll give your head a good beating with those steel shoes," she raises her front right hoof and examines it without much interest, letting me know she's serious. "I remember you telling me you had a hard time keeping your nosy nose down."

"Venture? Let it be," Motley says without objection or emotion.

It's a good thing at least Lemon said something about the name. If I'd been alone with that grim angel, I'd have died of boredom. I'd have been bored out of my mind when I was traveling with Boone. I was a bit bored, but I was a bit too tired, so I almost lost myself in boredom when I traveled with Boone. I want to inspire her with something.

We get on Venture and fly to Heavenly Harbor. Lemon almost screams with delight as we head out over the Vanhoover region on the vertibuck; she repeatedly says it's fun and thrilling for her.

A few minutes later we land in Heavenly Harbor.

Yes, this vertibuck really does make a noise around. Motley adds after we land that civilian vertibucks were not equipped with sturdy armor and weaponry, but it makes up for it with a little more speed and less consumption of gems. Vertibucks run on a magical reactor fueled by gems. They are very difficult to obtain in the post-war era, but the grim pegasus assures me that the amount available will suffice for a while. After that, I will have to look for some. It also turns out that there are none in the bunker, but if necessary, I can use the gems from the large magical reactor in Heavenly Harbor. The bunker is also powered by their magic. The vertibuck, of course, consumes energy much faster. The power problem has to be solved somehow. I remember the gems are scarce in Vanhoover—the energy crisis and all that.

Lemon inspects the bunker and its automated security system.

"What a find..." Lemon mutters, turning away from the computer equipment. "Quite a decent place. You could even live here if you renovated it a little, and then threw pillows everywhere."

"Yeah, that's what I had in mind."

"No wonder why you called me here. To get me to set up the robots. It would take a lot of caps to repair that bunker if you wanted to order parts from Vanhoover or find a Stable and use parts from there."

"What about Stable 44, I can get a lot of stuff from—" I start, but I'm interrupted by Lemon.

"Wouldn't even dream of it. They take it apart piece by piece and drag it back to the base. I'm sure the Elder won't just give me Stable's priceless technology; don't even count on Stable's toilet brush."

"Shame. Well, okay. What's your verdict on the robots?"

"The operating system is corrupt, it's vulnerable to even the slightest shaking. I can reconfigure it, but there's no guarantee that it will work as intended if there's a shake underground. Artificial intelligence of any power can prevent failure and find weaknesses in the equipment."

Well, Yes Man would be nice right about now.

"Or you can do without AI, but that would require completely rewriting the software code, which could take weeks or more, and you also need to find vulnerable components in the hardware itself, which could take even longer, since you have to check every detail, actually every bolt. So, I'm sorry, but I can't sit here around the clock all weeks."

Obviously someone slacked off... or saved money.

"Okay. Turn it off completely for now."

"I'll reconfigure it so that you can activate it when absolutely necessary, and start the cleaning process. A couple of non-threatening cleaning robots will clean the bunker of dirt and trash."

Meanwhile, a paranoid thought occurs in my head that Lemon is using the bunker defense system to threaten me in case of some kind of negotiation with me. I don't trust Lemon that much yet, but as I claimed earlier, she's the only one of the Steel Rangers who can be trusted with anything...

The memory of giving Lemon berry juice a few days earlier comes to mind. That look she gave me... the look of a pony enjoying a drink. So grateful and... lustful.

The thought would have grown further if Lemon had left me alone, but... She throws sarcastic comments at me for occupying the swankiest apartment. We banter with each other for a while.

I wonder again: why would I want to furnish this bunker like this? I will leave it, just as I left my home in Megaton, just as Lucky 38. I realize that the search for Project Dome might take a long time, but that is not the main reason for furnishing my dwelling, even if it is temporary. The main reason is that I like comfort, and I want to provide it for my companions and friends who will agree to live here, temporarily or permanently. Moreover, it's the perfect place to get away, in every sense of the word, from Vanhoover and the oppressive atmosphere of permissible slavery.

As soon as Lemon has reconfigured the operating system to the best of her ability and turned on the cleaning mode, we board Venture and head to Vanhoover. As with the base, I decide not to land directly in Vanhoover, but rather choose a location near the city. The purpose of the visit is to find work, and then use the caps to buy the Softhooves family's restored furniture and parts, which the Steelmane family has available, to fix up the bunker.

Lemon and Motley remain to look after Venture, and I go into town alone. I wonder how this couple will behave in private? I'm sure it will be a harrowing experience for both of them. Motley doesn't like to talk and shows little or no interest in anything, and Lemon is exactly the opposite: she likes to talk, and she can be interested in anything. And now it's just the two of them.

It was cruel, Daniel, cruel... but it got them to know each other better.

***

As I cross the South Gate of Vanhoover and walk a few feet, I notice a griffon courier running up to me.

"I've been looking for you. Got something I'm supposed to deliver, your hooves only," she says wearily, standing in front of me.

"Why?" I ask slightly confused. Unexpectedly, I'm being looked for. I hope there's nothing bad behind it.

"I have a letter for you," she answers and hands it to me.

"And how did you find me?"

"It wasn't easy... Let's just say I have connections in the office," the griffon replies with a smile. "But even so, you were a little hard to find-you don't have an address in town. The only thing we know about you is that you've passed through this particular south gate twice."

What kind of connections are these? When I worked as a courier, I used to get so tired of asking the locals how to find the receiver. It was a lot of work. Maybe someday I could figure out what kind of connections she had that could find a recipient in a tiny amount of time. Otherwise... I'm jealous. Just jealous.

After getting my signature for the package she delivered, the griffon flies away. I read the letter: It says that Prince is calling me to a tri-monthly event—the Vanhoover Five Families Council—and that it's happening tonight on Mane Street; inside the letter is an invitation signed by Prince.

Well, I won't have to mess around with the question of meeting with the heads of the families for a long time. Even though I don't need it that much... Oh, for fuck's sake! It starts in a few hours! I've got to get to Mane Street!

Since I'm still not far from Venture, I let the others know over the helmet radio that I'm going to the Vanhoover Five Families Council and I don't know how long I'll be delayed. In response, I hear that they're going back to Heavenly Harbor for now, and will be back to check on me closer to ten in the evening. And Lemon also adds that she'll try to do something else with Heavenly Harbor's automated security system. I thank her for that.

It's nice of her to spend her time and help me. I would have thought more about it, but I pondered why Prince had invited me to the local clan gathering, if in some way I had failed to interrogate Dodger, forcing him to give false locations to the opponents of slavery. By this time everything should have been cleared up.

Had Prince set a trap for me? It might well be. Vanhoover's most powerful masters would be there. I failed the interrogation, but still, what's that got to do with the families? Well, it's not my style to run away with my tail between my legs. If anything, I'll act according to the circumstances—like I always do.

I got myself into this... for a fucking key card from Stable 53.

Walking through the streets of Vanhoover, I turn on the radio. From there I hear some wonderful songs, followed by the voice of DJ Oscar exactly one hour before the council starts. As usual, he first promotes a few places and clubs in town—talking about discounts, exclusives, sales, and the like. Only at the end of the broadcast does he mention that Vanhoover's greatest upper-class meeting will take place in less than an hour on Mane Street, and that everyone is on edge right now because of the need for proper security for the meeting.

I get to Main Street and immediately start looking for the council venue. I soon find it: it's a two-story renovated building in navy blue tones. Nearby, about three dozen owners are bustling about, all dressed in expensive outfits. Almost all of them had a fedora on their heads, which harmoniously completed the image. What surprises me is the fact that several of them have PipBucks. Almost all of them are the standard color of Stable, which is not surprising, given Vanhoover's capture of them.

All these masters in fedoras and stern outfits remind me of the Omerta, White Glove, Chairmen, and the Syndicate of New Vegas. In New Reno, the Wrights, Van Graffs, Salvatores, Bishops, and the Mordinos.

The last time I visited New Reno, the leading families were the Van Graffs and the Wrights; the other families existed in town, but no longer had the influence of the first two. I once met the head of the Wright family when I was delivering a package to him; his name was Rodger Wright. He was a pleasant, outgoing and charismatic man. I even ran a couple of errands for him, which increased my capital, some of which I squandered on entertainment at establishments in the same town. I even placed a few bets in the city's famous boxing ring.

In New Vegas I settled things with the Omerta and left Cachino in charge, though he was an unpleasant man and, according to Joana, a pervert, but he had the leadership qualities to keep the whole clan in line. There was no problem with the Chairmen—after Benny's murder, Swank was the head, who was cheerful and friendly and didn't try to reach the clouds like the previous boss, running things behind the backs of his cronies. The White Glove... they were the ones who had the most trouble. It took a lot of sweat to bring Mortimer out in the open, because he wanted to return to the old tradition of cannibalism. Later I happened to run into the Syndicate, a secret organization that operated in the Wasteland, while I was delivering a package. I had dealt with their fledgling representative branch in the Mojave and hoped that the other members from the other branches in the Wasteland would never set foot in New Vegas again.

And here I am again encountering something like this. I smell that smell of mobsterism. With serious expressions on their faces, focused, sullen... quietly chatting amongst themselves, some smoking, some reading the local paper, some looking bored into the clouds. They can be divided into five groups, who keep to themselves, looking at each other suspiciously. The different groups are evidenced by the styles of their clothing.

The first group consists almost entirely of griffons; they are the only ones who all wear armor—scrubbed, of course, to look presentable. They carry rifles, submachine guns, and shotguns. Their weapons differ from those of the other masters in elegance and quality. Assessing their appearance, I can assume that they are members of the Falcon family, which makes weapons and ammunition, as well as restores and maintains existing ones.

The second group of masters are dressed in elegant gray flannel suits with blue-colored shirts. Their weapons are not as distinguishable as those of the previous group: primitive energy-magic, like laser pistols; they are also guarded by Mr. Gutsy. Apparently they are members of the Steelmane family, engaged in repairing and restoring past inventions, as well as creating improvements to them and new developments based on old ones.

The third group consists of some elegant mares dressed in elegant black dresses with red inserts. Gorgeous red and black dresses, short and long. All in all, the most different shapes and styles of outfits imaginable. I must say, their presentability is almost pre-war level. Can't help but be impressed. Obviously, these are members of the Softhooves family, making and restoring clothing and interior elements, and possibly exteriors as well. They also own most of the brothels and casinos in town.

A fourth group of masters in formal white outfits with black shirts. Some wear glasses. Predominantly in this group are the unicorns. They don't look cocky and arrogant, they don't suffer from snobbery like the others, instead their faces are focused on something. I don't have to guess to recognize them as members of the Meadows family, which specializes in medical services, drugs and chemicals.

The last group of masters is dressed in their usual formal outfits: a dark jacket and a green shirt underneath. Among them are mostly earth ponies. They don't look rich like the others, nor are they overly conceited; it's clear from their looks that they're not shy about hard physical labor and dirty work in the truest sense of the word. They look like farmers who don't know much about presentation or style. They are undoubtedly members of the Waterfall family, whose job it is to provide Vanhoover with the most basic necessities: food, water, and electricity.

I walk by. They don't pay much attention to me, except to cast brief glances, and then continue what they were doing—chatting about family matters and telling all sorts of rumors, stories, discussing some financial or personal problems, smoking and reading the newspaper. Nothing special.

I don't notice any 'special' masters who stand out from the others. By special I mean the heads of the families, or at least their trusted persons. Apparently they are either not there yet, or already inside, or both.

I enter the building. There are only a few guards standing inside, very different from each other—Kings. I show them the invitation and they let me in without too much questioning, taking my weapons and ammunition before doing so. No one is inside except the Kings and the robots.

I am told that Prince is in his office on the second floor, next to the main hall where the heads of the families meet. Going up there, I enter the office, knocking politely on the door before doing so. Prince stands by the window looking out over the city, and next to him was Lieutenant Redstone, who turned his attention to me as soon as I entered the office. I notice that Redstone has a PipBuck on his right leg. Strange that I hadn't noticed it when I first saw it three days ago. Where did my attention span go... I've been distracted lately.

Oh, how lucky I was that the letter from Prince arrived on time. Lady Luck is always on my side, but sometimes she likes to tickle my nerves. She gets an unforgettably perverse pleasure out of it, since I arrived twenty minutes before the meeting started.

"Come in, Daniel, sit down," Prince says calmly to me. I follow his request and sit down in one of the chairs. "Why do you think I invited you to this event, even though the prisoner you interrogated managed to figure out your method and gave out the wrong answers?"

He turns to me.

"False information?" I genuinely wonder. "Shit! I could sense there was something wrong with his answers. That asshole really had me wrapped around his hoof..." I mutter sadly.

"Don't worry," Prince interrupts me, turning to the window, "it's not your fault he figured out your moves. It's no surprise that he knew about the method, just as you said. Dodger was one of the first-class agents of the resistance. He only fell into our hoofs because he was defending others at the cost of his life. It's quite possible that it was he, and not anyone else, who surrendered, for the reason that he can't be cracked and his memories are protected by the most reliable magical barriers and locks. And yet, despite the failed interrogation and the fact that Dodger miraculously escaped... you have good skills. Most ponies and griffons try to achieve their goals by force, and you're in no rush to use it. It's a useful quality, rare among Vanhoover's masters and even among my servants."

"He escaped?" I marvel.

"It was only a matter of time," Prince replies without a shadow of grief. "Especially if the method you used didn't work, then nothing else will. Pulling his memories out of his head won't work either, that's the way it was meant to be: if someone tries to manipulate his memory from the outside, all the memories associated with their secrets will simply be erased or blocked, even for the owner of the memories himself. That's why it's best not to use the force at such times."

"Using the force is bad?"

"No, it's not. Of course not. I just want a change," Prince answers, turning to me for a moment, and then returning to contemplating the main street. "So, you'll be attending the council of families to learn about the state of things in the city. I do not inform the families of your presence. They will mistake you for a King, as I quite rarely issue invitations to outsiders. You have a seat in the hall next to Redstone. After the council, you can meet the heads of families in person."

"And why do I need to attend the council when I can already find out the state of things in the city?"

This question has tormented me ever since I received the letter of invitation. It's true, such an event, and he invites some tramp from the Wasteland to it, who has also failed an important interrogation. And that arrogance, when he doesn't even look at me... I can feel Prince's confidence in his actions. Why me?

"Many," Prince begins, turning around, "see only the tip of the iceberg. When you become a King, you will have to take responsibility for protecting Vanhoover and its interests, so you must know the ins and outs of what's going on. Understand what the families are all about. The main pillars of the city, on which almost all of the economy and production rests."

How thoughtful of him to keep me informed. He knows them like no one else, though. He might have dealt with some of them when they were colts. He's ruled this town for over a hundred years.

"Any more questions?" Prince asks with patient anticipation.

"The death of a King—Blackwater," I say. Something makes me think of him.

"Yes?"

"What surprised me was. he crashed between the trees... not far from the road. Why did he turn there in the first place? And he was going at crazy speed, too. He should have been on his way to explore the rest of the Wasteland, shouldn't he?"

Lieutenant Redstone suddenly turns his eyes toward the white unicorn with the golden mane. And I can see why—the Prince's face, for the first time, shows a faint concern. The always calm and composed unicorn with a century's worth of reign has suddenly lost his cool.

"Tell me more about his death," he said at last.

I tell everything in detail and without concealment, including the things I took from him. I mark on the map the crash site. Prince looks focused, no longer anxious, but that moment of weakness... I won't forget it.

"Thank you for expressing your doubts," Prince says, nodding appreciatively. "I was too busy that day to react appropriately to the King's death. I will take control and investigate the case. It's time to go, the meeting will begin soon."

It's hard to believe that with a century of experience ruling the city, he quickly forgot to discuss the death of one of his direct subjects when we first met. Though he has about thirty of them, still.

"I haven't seen the family bosses outside. Where are they?" I ask, heading for the exit; Redstone follows me.

"Some were already in this building when you showed up," Redstone replies easily, "just each in his own office."

***

Prince reacts worriedly to every death of a King? I thought there would be displeasure or anger on his face, but... there was none. So why did he react this way? What did he find frightening about Blackwater's death? I don't think it's going to take me long to get to the bottom of this case. Prince has made it very clear that I am to stay out of it.

I don't notice that I'm already entering the main hall while I'm thinking. In the center of it is a huge round wooden table, with six red chairs beside it, and one regular chair next to five of them. On the table are several bottles of expensive, by the looks of it, liquor and cigar ashtrays. There are no windows in the room; instead, an elegant chandelier illuminates the center of the room. In this way the faces of those sitting at the table are perfectly visible. There are sofas against the walls, and I sit on one of them with Redstone.

Meanwhile, when we entered, several Kings were already seated inside. Redstone tells me that any King is free to attend the council if he so desires, and to talk to the heads of families afterwards about a special job, for they are well paid.

While the heads of families are still out, I decide to ask Redstone a few questions. My gaze involuntarily passes over the small table next to our couch, with a couple of glasses and a bottle of prewar red wine.

"Would you like some?" the deputy Prince asks me, pointing to the wine just as I was about to open my mouth to ask a question.

"I don't mind," I immediately reply. He pours both for himself and me. I touch the edges of the wine glass with my lips and sip, nice and tasty. "And what are you to Prince?"

"Something like an counselor, like the Fathers and Mothers of Families have, or a secretary," having said that, Redstone takes a sip from his glass. "Or a second person after himself. If you want to make an appointment with him, you must contact me first. And I will decide if your pathetic self is worth Prince's attention," he smiles slightly. "Even Kings must first inform me that they wish to meet Prince. I, as you know, recruit new Kings: I send them off on a special mission-check, if, of course, someone will vouch for them before then. I sort and select the most important information for Prince: sometimes he gets invitations, offers to buy something, and so on. I also give advice on how best to act in this or that situation, because I'm much closer to the ordinary masters than he is. And in front of me they keep their cool better than in front of Prince, who makes their blood run cold and their knees start to tremble," he agrees and chuckles demurely at the end.

"Why is Prince paying attention to me after I failed the interrogation?"

"Well, how can I put it..." the Lieutenant ponders. "Apparently he was interested in the process itself. Maybe he liked your interrogation, despite the failure. So he wants to get to know you better... In fact, I don't know what could be on his mind. He has repeatedly been interested in one person or another. He's paid attention to me, too."

"Why is that?"

"Perhaps because I know how to separate the grains from the chaff. To note something unusual in the vast flow of information. In this case, letters, inquiries and the like. That's why I act as a secretary."

"Okay..." I exclaim, enjoying another sip of wine. "By the way, where did you get the PipBuck? And why didn't I notice it when I first saw you in your office in Stable 68?"

"He was on a technical inspection," Redstone explains briefly.

"Tell me about the family hierarchy. From top to bottom."

"At the very top is the Father or Mother, depending on gender, but they're also just called bosses. The advisors are their most trusted persons, mostly not of the clan, but serving faithfully. They are usually the bosses' closest friends."

"Counselors report directly to the head of the family and no one else?"

"Yes."

Almost like the Star Paladin of the Steel Rangers, Lemon Star.

"Who's lower?"

"The deputy bosses are a Son or Daughter, depending on their gender, they are chosen by the Mother of Father of the family... and in case the boss of the family has several children or, on the contrary, they are absent, they have to choose among other blood relatives. They are also called the underbosses."

"So if the boss dies, the underboss is appointed as the head? As acting boss?" I clarify.

"'Yes' to the first question, and 'no' to the second. It's already an official successor, whom the boss would like to see in charge of the family after him or her, but with the condition that most of the family blood relatives agree that he or she has earned the right to be in charge."

"It depends partly on heredity and partly on voting?"

"Something like that," Redstone shrugs, holding the glass with his red telekinesis magic. Noticing the emptiness in it, he decides to fill it with more wine. Mine isn't empty yet. "The boss doesn't have to follow the wishes of his inferiors, but if they don't want a coup and want to be loyal to the family, they usually listen."

"Does it ever happen that the boss doesn't have time to appoint a successor?"

"The new boss is chosen by a vote by the same blood relatives of the family. They can vote for themselves, but most vote for another family member because they just don't want that burden and responsibility because it means the future of the family will depend on their decisions."

Giving up power for fear of responsibility... How I understand them.

"So only the bloodline of the family can be the head?"

"Yes. If the boss has children, they are not necessarily the ones who will take over, since they may not be able to handle the responsibilities or may be incapacitated for some reason."

"What do these blood relatives usually do?"

"Almost all run some important part of their family's business or do something minor in business or craft."

"Like what? Like what exactly do they do?"

"Well... some are good at accounting, some are good at distributing resources, some are good at commanding slaves, some just Repairing things, like the son of the current head of the Steelmaine family. That's it. There are no limitations for them."

"Understood. Going down below... and who do we see?" I continue.

"Close friends of the family—captains or just Friends. Sort of commanders, officers of the family, who run a small crew of masters who are officially included in the family."

"They own the business in the family?"

"Of course. They're essentially the same blood relatives, only without the right to be in charge."

"So... a blood relative has no reason to fear betrayal by the captain if he wants power. He simply has no right. A blood relative of the family is safer to work with captains than with other relatives?"

"Good thinking," the gray unicorn smiles at me with a glass of wine. "You're shrewd, I see," he adds and drains his second glass of wine. He stares dumbly at the bottom of it and, apparently deciding he's had enough, puts it down on the table. I finish the rest, too, and place my glass next to Redstone's.

"What else do the Friends of the Family do?"

"They oversee the activities of the family's assistants, the soldiers. And directly supervise them."

"The Soldiers of the Family... Next in the hierarchy, I take it?"

"Yep. The masters who are included in the family are soldiers. Basically these minor members of the family do the will of the Captains, in other words, the Soldiers directly control the activities of the family."

"Which ones?"

"Security, keeping watch, collecting debts and interest on income, and the like. In particular, these Soldiers are to guard the ideas of the family, as well as the family itself, from murderers and robbers."

"Whom do they control?"

"The lackeys and the slaves."

"The lackeys?"

"Yes. The masters that are not included in the family. Inclusion in the family turns a lackey into a soldier. Lackeys do routine work—factory and workshop workers, merchants, and others. Soldiers guard them from the encroachments of other families, but some do the same work as footmen. Lackeys do delicate and mental work, where timely decision-making is needed... which you understand a slave can't handle."

The slave is afraid of responsibility.

"In the end, the family hierarchy looks like this: boss with counselor–underboss–blood relatives–captains–soldiers–lackeys–slaves?" I clarify.

"Not exactly. Slaves are not part of the hierarchy. They are property."

"Oh... right. And on average, what's the number of blood relatives in a family?"

"About twenty, each relative has several teams or groups, with captains at the head, and the team consists of about ten soldiers."

"What about lackeys?"

"Make up as much as half of the masters of Vanhoover, because a large part of the business is family-owned. If you work in any club, workshop, factory, store, restaurant, hotel, and so on, you are probably a lackey of the family that owns it all. Of course, there are also slaves who do very simple and trivial work, mostly involving hard physical labor. Or as servants in every sense."

I take it that going against the family is like stirring up a cazador's nest. It's easier not to deal with them.

"Sounds like everything is under the control of the Families."

"Not really. There's Prince and I, Kings with their business and employees, the police, the freelance guards. The staff of The School, the Arena, the radio station, and the Central Bank."

It's a little unusual to me that The School, with this level of influence of the families, is not owned by one of them, but exists as an independent business. Maybe the families just don't want to take on the burden of raising and educating slaves. It's a complicated business. I think The School itself is dependent on the families for resources. The police, too, can be used to act within the law by putting the right amount of cap on the hoof of a certain officer.

Half of Vanhoover's masters are slaves of sorts. Of families. And this need not be ascribed only a philosophical meaning: the lackeys are under the responsibility of the family, a large such herd organism, and the slaves are under the responsibility of the masters.

I sit in silence for a while, digesting what I have heard.

The family bosses and their counselors enter the hall. The first to enter is a fully confident, muscular griffon in his forties, dressed in an expensive and elegant brown suit with wide lapels, under his jacket a shirt white as snow, and a black tie with uncomplicated gold patterns tied around his neck. This attire is completed by a brown fedora with a black ribbon. He is carrying a very large magnum, which looks like it is loaded with large-caliber bullets used in an anti-machine rifle. Definitely custom-made or experimental, as the revolver is all black and gold-patterned: the grip is decorated with the outline of a bird of prey, and the sight and barrel are dotted with beautiful gold swirls shaped like wind.

Next to him walks an equally confident griffon, dressed in stout armor.

Only the head of the griffon family seems to wear outfits like ponies, while others prefer armor.

"That," Redstone says in a whisper, pointing to the griffon with a large revolver, "is the Father of the Falcon family, Nail Falcon, and next to him is his counselor, Yellow Night."

Following the two griffons enters an elderly pony: the wrinkles on his muzzle, his thick mane dark with gray, which fits him perfectly, all make him extremely charismatic and even good-natured in appearance. His gaze is unyielding and steadfast, as well as profoundly experienced. At a guess he's in his sixties. His fur is smoky in color, and he is dressed in a dark gray dress coat with narrow and long fringes at the back and an orange shirt that emphasizes the color of his eyes. His image is completed by a gray fedora and a plain steel rifle with white lines, which hangs from his belt.

Beside him walks a similarly aged unicorn with noticeable wrinkles, her short sapphire mane with curls not yet finally lost its color. It is likely that she is dyeing it. She is dressed in a sky-colored dress that nicely complements her azure coat.

"The Father of the Steelmane family is Robus Steelmane, and next to him is counselor Haley Blue."

After enters a white unicorn in his fifties with glasses: a long golden mane with gray strands, a white cloak, a black shirt underneath, and a beautiful white tie around his neck. On his belt is a long sword with a white hilt and scabbard.

He is followed by a middle-aged, pretty sand-colored unicorn, wearing a yellow dress with a black belt and a yellow hat with wide brim and black ribbon.

"The Father of the Meadows family is Dazzling Meadows, and next to him is counselor Sandy House."

Behind the Meadows enters a middle-aged, heavenly-colored earth pony with a lush black and white mane, dressed in a beautiful cherry dress and no headdress. The mare carries a shotgun with a beige buttstock and grip, the rest of the weapon is black with gold patterns. Next to her walks a smoky earth pony with a short white mane, dressed in a lilac outfit with a purple shirt, his head covered by a fedora of the same color as the jacket.

"The Mother of the Waterfall family is Heaven Waterfall, next to her is counselor Flint Gray."

And last on the list, but not least, enter two beautiful mares. One of them wears a delightful long black dress with red patterns of lovely roses at the hem, with a red ribbon at the waist. Beige fur and a lush mane of a soft scarlet color.

It is certainly one of the most beautiful unicorns: under her gaze any stallion or even a mare could melt. I realized this when she only glanced around the hall, lingering on me for a fraction of a second. I immediately had dirty thoughts of her, and a weakness in my body.

Next to her walked modestly, a pretty and lovely unicorn of a delicate crimson color with long black hair and red strands. She is dressed in a short black dress with a red sash; on her head is a wide-brimmed black hat with a red ribbon.

"And this," Redstone lets out a little chuckle, "is the Mother of the Softhooves family, she is known as the queen of beauty and charm, the lust of all stallions and more, the singer of the most popular casino in town, Eileen Softhooves. Next to her counselor is Heather Flower."

After all of them, as a conclusion, Prince himself enters.

I look at all these cream of society and realize how insignificant I look next to them. I am even embarrassed. I bet they don't have as much life experience as I do. I doubt they've had their internal organs stolen, been buried alive in a grave or cut out a piece of their brains...

There is a sense of purposefulness, steadfastness, passion, ambition in their behavior. Heads of families and should be as I see them now in this room. They should inspire their followers, hold power firmly in their hooves. All this is an indication that they are capable of leading the masses.

They exchange standard pleasantries. I'm sure it's all a pulled mask with smiles and good-naturedness, a show-off for Prince. Which he knows. So do they. Practically everyone knows about each other. It's like adults don't swear in front of children and children don't swear in front of adults. Living in a decent society, what can I say?

They sit down at the table and start discussing the issues at hand. They chat in the style of 'how are you doing?', discuss disputed territories or moments, bring up the distinguished perpetrators, the latest news and all sorts of things that are of no value to me, sipping expensive alcohol and smoking cigars along the way.

Only after an hour of prattle talk do they begin to talk about really important things. For example, almost all the families are itching for Crater raiders: in the last six months they have started to put a lot of sticks in the wheels. Especially these parasites cling to the Waterfall family for no reason.

"Their attacks," the head of the Waterfall family says, "are too well organized, and every month they are more and more successful in destroying our greenhouses and taking my workers and slaves captive! It's obviously set up by someone. Somebody among you!"

"Nonsense! An attempt to justify yourself," the head of the Falcon family in a haughty voice says. "What a sorry bunch of wimps you are, after all. Can't defend yourselves against a bunch of raiders, looking for someone to blame. It's pathetic to look at you."

These words make Waterfall shake with anger. She's ready to pounce on this griffon here and now. The counselor cools her slightly with a touch of his hoof on her shoulder.

This kind of disrespect is something I see all too often at their event. Sometimes covertly, sometimes overtly. All in all, it's not boring.

From the passive-aggressive conversations I've learned quite a bit about the state of things in town.

The Falcon family is quite often aggressive and arrogant, but that's their predator nature, after all. They are arrogant, consider themselves high-flying birds, and repeatedly emphasize at the meeting the defense of the town, that other families need to increase their purchases and all that because of the growing threat of raiders.

"You only think," Prince tells them, "about the safety of your tails. You could give a discount on weapons and armor to the Waterfall family so they'd bolster their defenses. Make a generous gesture."

The head of the Falcon family doesn't have time to respond before he is unceremoniously interrupted by the head of the Waterfall family.

"I'd rather let a raider fuck me than accept favors from an overgrown chicken!" she says loudly.

I think I've found two feuding families.

"All of you don't care at all about getting food into town, do you?" she asks. To which the same Nail Falcon is ready to reply, "Meat in Green Island, as in the rest of the Wasteland, is plentiful. My griffons will have no problem providing food for the town without delay, unlike you."

I think I hear the gritting of Heaven Waterfall's teeth.

Father Steelmane... calm and good-natured, polite to others. Maybe it's because of his advanced age. But even his calm tone sometimes has a dangerous tone to it. Despite his age, Robus can put anyone in this hall in his place, except Prince, of course. In fact, he is the most competent head of the family here, capable of reasoning logically and not jumping to conclusions. He is balanced, restrained. All in all, he looks like a regular good-natured old man, capable of being a good talker. I like him because he doesn't get cocky like the others, but he doesn't downplay his position either. He seems to be the only one in this room, again not counting Prince, who has been running his little empire long enough.

"I would..." he interjects into the argument between Falcon and Waterfall, turning to Heaven, "give you support in the form of robots and energy weapons, temporarily, of course. But... you yourself understand that we have to save resources on power and gems. Plus, we're subject to their planned attacks on our mines ourselves."

The head of the Waterfall nods appreciatively at his concern and offer. She herself is well aware that her power plant can barely handle the town's basic electricity needs.

Eileen Softhooves acts a little arrogant, but doesn't get too buried. Her voice, high and melodic, so gently tickles my eardrums, it could be listened to forever.

"I understand your situation, dear," she says, turning to Heaven. "None of us would want to be in your shoes. You do important work for the city... electricity, water, food... We all need it. And I know how your family works to provide us with all that. I... think I can provide some of my resources to help you."

"I'm very grateful."

Clearly, this favor is not free. The head of the Softhooves family is diabolically dangerous. She is painfully polite to everyone, emphasizing the important points of each family in a way that doesn't make the other family angry. She has the most difficulty with the Meadows family, however. No wonder: a small part of the brothels and casinos belong to this family. They are her main competitors, their casinos and brothels have special services that her family cannot afford. Though it is the richest, so she can easily make other families dependent on her-except the Meadows, again.

Despite the beauty of Eileen Softhooves, I can tell she has the most stale and rotten apple inside her that I can find. I doubt her integrity, considering her family also owns a pornography studio—Paradise Pleasure. Who better than her to know the innermost desires of others.

It's safe to say that Eileen's only reason for becoming the head is her powers of persuasion... her charming good looks, and, well, her excellent voice. She's the last person I'd want to deal with: I'm afraid of falling under her influence unnoticed. Her counselor is more modest, she doesn't raise her voice and, unlike her senior friend, is genuinely polite. In spite of her modest behavior, she gives useful advice to her Mother; I even like her.

Dazzling Meadows is quiet, very rarely engaging in conversation. He has a hard and cold voice. His character is the hardest to describe, because he is silent and answers only when a question is addressed directly to him, but I sense that he is a poisonous and dangerous fruit. He's also the main rival of the most powerful and wealthy family, the Softhooves.

Dazzling Meadows and Eileen Softhooves have repeatedly exchanged silent glances... I wonder what kind of game they're playing.

From Redstone's words, I learn that Dazzling is a medic and a professional surgeon. Knows many spells in his field. Despite his harmless appearance, he is extremely dangerous in battle, because he can quickly blow his opponent's head off his shoulders by teleporting to him.

By the way, Eileen Softhooves and Heather Flower are not as harmless as they seem: Redstone warns me that they are masters of hoof-fighting. And they know how to teleport, too. And they also know quite a few vulnerable points on their bodies: if they hit them, they can paralyze or even kill an opponent. Soft hooves indeed.

Heaven Waterfall observes the rules of behavior, though she is not always able to control herself when her family is tainted.

"Self-righteous pieces of shit..." she says, addressing everyone near the end of the council. "You think we're weak. You know, we didn't want all this! We had enough farms, too, but then we had to take control of the dam and the water supply, because fifty years ago the two families that were doing it cut each other off! Your ancestors all shed blood for power at that point, too! But not us. And none of you wanted to take it on then."

"You were lucky to stay away," Eileen Softhooves interjects courteously. "You were the closest family to controlling the dam. And I don't consider you weak. Not at all."

"Neither do I," Robus Steelmane agrees. "We helped you with the maintenance of the dam afterwards by providing specialists. And we're willing to help now. Things aren't getting any better, as far as I can see."

Heaven obviously wants to say something to that, but decides not to say anything. She's in no position to fight. She needs their help. Except for the pompous chickens of the Falcon family.

"Hey..." I whisper to Redstone. "What happened fifty years ago?"

"The Last Family War," he answers in an equally muffled voice. "There were too many events that led to widespread conflict, involving almost every family except Waterfall. More than half the families were either wiped out, like the ones that maintained the dam and handled the water supply, or absorbed by others."

"How did Prince let this happen?"

"I told you... there were too many events. Prince just didn't have time to keep track of everything, even with the help of Kings."

"What did he end up doing?"

"You're sitting on the result of his decision right now," the gray unicorn with the red mane replies.

"Meaning?"

"Prince created a Council of Families, where matters concerning both the families and the business of the city are to be negotiated, since almost all of the industrial enterprises are owned by the families. At the very first Council there was a division of the businesses and territories of the destroyed families, and at that same first Council Prince threatened that if any of them started an open war, he would personally destroy every blood heir of that family. "

"Why them specifically?"

"Because according to the rules, a family was considered destroyed when none of the family heirs were left alive, and then their business, staff, slaves, resources, and everything else went to the family that destroyed the heirs. And Prince's threat was significant to them, for it meant that he would do anything to erase the family from history, transferring the activities to competent hooves, creating a new one. Open conflicts must be stopped at the Council."

"Open conflicts... More than once you've emphasized that word."

"Yeah. Don't forget that Prince encourages competition, and if one manages to subdue another family without bloodshed or damage to the city, then they are more efficient more responsible."

Now it's clear why Heaven Waterfall is in no hurry to accept help from others. It would make her family dependent on another. She does have a hard time. Her words about another family being behind the raiders' organized attacks seem believable. Someone, apparently, is already planning to subjugate her family. But who?

To answer for her entire family... To protect them from being taken over. Too much responsibility on Heaven's shoulders. I wouldn't be able to handle it, and I'd probably suspect others of conspiracy, too.

"All right," Prince interjects. "All right, I'll consider sending someone else to Crater to deal with the raiders' organized nature."

"Doesn't that mean," Robus Steelmane says, "the two Kings have failed?"

"I sent them right after the last council when they started talking about this problem. Three months ago. I haven't heard from them since. I don't know what's wrong with them, but too much time has passed and the problem is only getting worse."

"You could have taken care of it yourself," Waterfall says.

"And leave Vanhoover unattended..." Prince mutters, shaking his head. "As long as it's not directly threatened by anything. Learn to find your own solutions to your problems. So... the questions on the agenda are over. Maybe some of you have new topics coming up? No? Well, then I'll close today's Council."

The heads retire to their offices, where they will be for some time, in case any of a King or other families want to call on them for work or services.

I notice that during the Council, Prince didn't mention Unity or Fillydelphia. Maybe they are not a big threat to him yet. Or maybe he hopes to cooperate by getting Red Eye on his side. Or maybe he's working out a plan to eliminate him, like getting rid of Unity.

As for the families, I can tell that it's better to do business with Waterfall or Steelmane. Despite her lack of restraint in her emotions, the former shows herself to be an excellent leader, able to stay afloat under the most difficult circumstances. And the latter... Robus... I was a little worried by his good-naturedness. It would make me happy if it wasn't a mask that hid a genial, conniving mind underneath.

Naturally, all families have their skeletons in the closet, and new ones are constantly being added to them, but as has been pointed out before, it is food, water, and electricity that are important to the city. Better to be friends with the family that does that.

I don't want to get involved with the others yet: the Falcons are aggressive, the Softhooves probably do a lot of business on the side, the Meadows... in addition to their head being dangerous, his family also supplies the town with drugs and special services in their brothels.

"How are the brothels of Softhooves and Meadows different from each other?" I ask Redstone.

"In the brothels of Softhooves, the prostitutes are gentler—if you want tender love, even if it's for the caps and they also don't use drugs in that place. At the Meadows brothels it's the other way around: all the prostitutes are on the hook, and you can make unimaginable perversions, if you pay good money, of course. In general, it's rough sex. This is the only thing that makes the Softhooves brothels inferior to the Meadows brothels: although the former are much more numerous, the latter have more clients."

"Why don't you tell me what Paradise Pleasure is?

"Go find out for yourself," Redstone smiles. "Okay... Almost everybody's out of here by now, so I'll go."

"Aren't you staying with Prince?"

"No. After a day like this, I felt like having fun with my slave mares at the Stable 68. So, see you soon."

Prince and I are the only ones left in the hall. He beckons me to him and offers me a seat in whatever chair the heads of families have been sitting in up to now. I sit in the closest one without thinking long. That's where Eileen Softhooves was sitting.

"Interesting choice," the mighty white unicorn with the golden mane smiles. "The Softhooves family doesn't like stallions in leadership positions."

"So how do they tolerate you, the father of all Vanhoover?"

"The Queen appointed me. It was the mare's decision, and they couldn't disrespect that."

"Also, you can't be killed," I want to say. "That's why no one's going to turn up against you much."

"You're right," he chuckles. "But still... You can't do everything alone. You have to compromise to get others to agree to work for the good of the city. So, what do you think? What are your impressions?" Prince asks, sitting in his chair and looking intently at me with his blue eyes.

"One: They are not what they seem. Putting on their masks, they have begun to talk to each other as if it were a performance—especially trying in front of Prince and a King. At times these masks fall off, as with Waterfall. The second is that some want to solve problems, some don't, but pretend they do, and some don't care as long as it doesn't affect them personally."

"Good. I think you've already chosen who you will cooperate with for a recommendation for King status. You don't have to tell me. It doesn't matter to me right now."

"What do I need to do?"

"We'll start with you solving their obvious problems—and then we'll see. It all depends on whether or not you're up to the task, because the failure or success of the operation will already depend on you. You've heard that the Crater is Waterfall and Steelmane's biggest problem by far: they need an experienced fighter who can get into that labyrinth and get out of it alive."

"Do you really think that the Kings sent out failed and died?"

"I have no idea."

"And you don't care about their fate?"

"They knew what they were doing."

Prince looks apathetic to their possible deaths. This confirms once again that Blackwater's death matters to Prince for some reason, but I decide to keep quiet about it for now.

"Is it really so dangerous out there that the Kings can't handle it?"

"No one can survive there alone, for they will only be surrounded by enemies. Kings are too proud and stubborn to work together, even with each other, so, blinded by their status, they obviously underestimated the organization of the raiders, for which they paid with their lives. I think with your persuasion skills you can put together the right team and get to the heart of it. I'm more than sure the raiders' organization has a strong reason."

"It's a dangerous place..."

"You didn't dare to come to Vanhoover, even though there's no coming back from there. The White Demon that steals the souls of the weak... As they say in Hoofland. There's always something interesting behind the myths and rumors."

Holy shit. Somehow he manages to press my weakness. Taking advantage of my curiosity, my hunger for secrets and mysteries that are just waiting to be uncovered.

Why has the organization of the raiders skyrocketed? They must be commanded by someone experienced, with knowledge.

"Also," Prince adds, "solving the raider problem will immediately increase your fame in town. Just what you need for King status."

Prince reads me like a book. He's quick to figure out what's what. I said I needed King status to find something. I am already on the lookout for something unusual in his mind. I am driven by the discovery of mysteries. Curiosity will ruin me sooner or later—and okay if only me: I don't want to set others up, but I can't do it without them.

Fuck...

"I'm sure you'll do fine," Prince says and leaves the hall. I'm left all alone.

After sitting in the hall for a while longer, digesting Prince's entreaties, I rise from the chair where Eileen Softhooves was sitting and decide to pay a visit to Heaven Waterfall. Perhaps she'll give me a recommendation for King status.

Finding her office, I knock on the door. After a few seconds, I am allowed to enter.

"Hello, Heaven Waterfall, and hello to you, Flint Gray," I say politely. There's no one else in the office besides them.

"Let's not stand on ceremony," she begins in her low voice, sitting in a small chair. Flint Grey, a smoky earth pony with a white mane, sits across from her, and noticing me, gets up and walks over to Mother's chair on her right side.

"I was at the Council and heard that you have a big problem with the Crater raiders. Well, I'm willing to offer my services."

"You," she smiles skeptically, "can solve what many Kings can't?"

Need I say, Prince himself offered to take me up on the case? Ruthlessly manipulated my hunger for secrets, like a drug dealer who promises another dose for a favor to spur my interest in the raider problem? I don't think so. Prince wouldn't want me to use it as an excuse. At least I don't think so.

"I doubt he'll take up the matter right now. If you name me a decent price, I'll head to the Crater tomorrow and get it done a lot faster. I have experience in exploring dangerous places. I come from the main part of the Wasteland, I've seen some shit, and I've managed to survive."

Heaven hesitates and looks at me appraisingly. There is doubt in her gaze, but also a desire to deal with the problem as quickly as possible. Flint Gray glances back and forth between me and his mistress.

"All right, have it your way." She gestures with her hooves. "I offer twenty thousand caps if you can get me out of this problem, or at least find something to help me solve it."

Uh-oh... That's not bad cash. Not bad at all, I'd say! It's enough to make repairs to Heavenly Harbor. But I'll be a little greedy.

"Twenty-five thousand and I'll take the job. Where else are you going to find someone willing to go to that Crater?"

"For twenty thousand they will."

"Reputation of a dangerous place. Few will volunteer even for twenty-five thousand."

"Prince will find someone."

"And what's the result? Two probably dead Kings."

"Someone else will be found."

"I repeat. Dead Kings. It's discouraging."

"We can wait," Heaven bends her head, but it's clear from her voice that she's ready to give up. As long as she keeps deluding herself for an extra five thousand caps.

I need to remind her of something.

"I don't think this is a good idea. The longer you drag it out, the greater the loss, for the raiders get stronger. Eventually you'll have to turn to some family for substantial help... You will have to accept unfavorable terms. You will submit to them. And you will be swallowed up, and the Waterfall family will remain only in the pages of history."

I wanted to add 'because someone felt pathetic for five thousand,' but I decided that would be too harsh.

Heaven and Flint communicate with each other... on a mental level, discussing my proposal, that is, just looking each other in the eye. They realize that their situation is bad, and that others, including me, are taking advantage of it. Well, better me than another family. The choice for her is obvious.

"All right. I agree," she barely squeezes out, turning to me. "It'll cost a lot of caps, but if it works out, it'll pay for itself in no time."

***

I'm going back to the Venture landing site. The vertibuck will be gone for about another half hour. The deal was to check on me closer to ten in the evening, since I don't have a long-range radio to call them from Heavenly Harbor now.

I'm so hungry... And there's nothing to eat. Shall I go hunting? Or should I wait for the others?

I keep myself busy practicing my teleportation spells and barriers, and after a while I hear the roar of the propellers.

Venture lands next to me, I jump in and see only Motley.

"Where's L... Berry?" I ask Motley.

"After you left for the Family Council, she asked me to go to Vanhoover and get some food, and then we went hunting. Now she's doing the cooking."

Her words made my stomach rumble.

"Then hurry home. I'm hungry."

Not ten minutes later, I'm already sitting in the dining room of Heavenly Harbor, holding a fork and knife in my telekinesis.

"Berry! I'm starving!"

"Almost!" a shout comes from the kitchen. "You try to figure out what works here and what doesn't. Almost everything is ruined by time."

"Hurry up!"

Motley sits at the table with an unconcerned face, waiting for Lemon to bring something. She's been gone forever, and then she comes out holding a bowl of vegetable salad and some hard-boiled eggs in her teeth. Motley pours it into her plate, takes it in her teeth, and walks toward the exit of the dining room.

"Hey, where are you going?" I ask.

"I wanna ve in quief," she says and hides from sight in the hallway.

"But..."

It's late.

I'm eating the salad in my mouth, completely unaware of what I'm eating. Soon Lemon arrives with a plate of fried meat. I grab for it like a hungry animal. The lemon pony sits beside me and gazes at me with a smile while I eat.

"Now it's my turn to treat you," she adds.

I start to choke, almost choking, remembering how she drank the berry juice from the cup I held up to her mouth. I greedily gulp for air with my mouth.

"Easy, easy..." she says in a worried voice and taps me on the back. "Take your time. Chew normally."

I cough, and this time I eat more carefully and slowly. To choke and die from eating... yeah, that would be a shitty death.

"Thanks for the food... It was delicious," I muttered, sighing in relief with a full stomach. Relief from a full stomach... It sounds paradoxical, though, to feel light with a weighty bag of caps.

"And you don't even want to know what I made it with?"

"If I don't vomit and throw up in an hour, you don't have to tell me. It doesn't matter."

Lemon laughs.

"Where did Motley go?" she asks, looking around the empty and robotically cleaned dining room.

"Wanted to eat in peace and privacy."

After a frantic devouring of food, I can calm down and think normally. I notice that Lemon is completely naked. No armor. I look at her cutie mark on her chubby thigh. It's a green terminal screen with a binary code on it.

"Interesting cutie mark you have," I mutter as I look up into the earth pony's green eyes. Her plump cheeks burn with embarrassment.

"Yes... It has a binary code on it."

"And what does it mean?"

"The number forty-two, that's all," she answers.

"Interesting... By the way, how did Motley react to your appearance? You are a Steel Ranger, after all."

"Well... I don't know. She didn't say anything when she saw me, though I was wildly embarrassed. She didn't say anything and didn't say anything. Anyway, she didn't say anything, and I didn't want to ask."

Lemon shyly lowers her head to the table. I put my hoof on her back, on her yellow short fur, and stroke her soothingly.

"She's too much on her mind," I say. "Thoughtful and silent. I guess she doesn't care what you look like. That's why she's silent. Why are you walking around without armor at all? Don't you have a suit under your armor?"

"I do, but... I dunno. It's getting stuffy. I keep hiding from the Steel Rangers. I don't want to show my face. Tired of it."

Oh, that clears some things up.

"Is that why you decided to stay here longer? Is that why you came with me?"

Her answer is... belated, as if she wasn't sure of her answer, "Yes... You're... how should I put it... I don't feel so tense with you. I feel much more relaxed. You don't look at me with hidden loathing."

"Should I have?" I smile slightly. She notices my smile and chuckles awkwardly.

"I guess... Over the past year, the appearance of being overweight has caused everyone to treat me... dismissive."

"Why? Didn't they know it was all the fault of the illness?"

"Yes... but it wasn't just that either. I'm the Star Paladin of the Steel Rangers. I have to set an example for others. For inadequate physical training, the Elder should have removed me from this position. Whether because of illness or not, it doesn't matter."

"And why didn't she do that?"

"Probably... because of my parents."

Oh, I remember. Her parents were in the last unit that went to the Mysterious Stable and never came back.

"And... Elder Largo Breeze was the one who sent them there. They were her close friends. She was sure they would make it, but... as you can see..."

"I guess you'd like to go there and find out their fate, wouldn't you?"

"I sure would... I was twelve years old when it happened. And Largo Breeze has been sworn to look after me ever since. Not only her, but the others have helped fight the urge to go there... on a deadly expedition. But I managed. More or less. Their fate still interests me the most."

"Are you telling me that the Elder has not removed you from her position because she considers herself indebted to your parents for depriving their daughter of her parents' love?"

"Yes... And that's why I'm still the Star Paladin. Others don't understand that. Why should a role model be... a fat cow like me?" It's as if her voice is growing brittle, about to rattle with strain and break. "I am despised not so much for being overweight as for being a fat Star Paladin. I am so high up... everyone can see me... I... just... I'll... shame the Steel Rangers..."

Lemon sobs, her head low against the table. Her shoulders twitch with convulsive sighs.

What a pressure she's under... Everything is turning against her.

"Hush, hush... it's okay," I say softly, stroking her back and pulling her close to me.

I hope my armor doesn't bother her too much. She doesn't seem to understand what's going on right now. She doesn't notice that I'm holding her against me and hugging her.

"Everyone silently despises me or is ashamed of me..." she continues in a panting voice. "Friends... Husband... And Largo... She avoids talking about it... In the last year it's as if all the Steel Rangers have become strangers to me... It's some kind of nightmare dream..."

She sobs in a hysterical way, and eventually notices me cradling her in my arms. Reluctantly she wraps her front legs around me and bumps her wet face into my armor... and can't hold it.

For how long the Steel Rangers have been her family, her only family, and now she feels like an outcast because of her health problems. I understand how she feels... I do. Brisa and I were once banished from our home Vault a second time, thinking that the Wasteland had changed us too much. Bitter insult and betrayal pain.

It all piled up in Lemon and piled up, and then she burst. She cries quietly, and I stroke her back and then her green mane.

"Don't worry... You'll heal. And everything will be fine. Besides, you're a first-rate hacker and programmer. You're valuable to the Steel Rangers. Don't forget that."

Lemon doesn't react to this, continuing to hug me, tucking her nose into mine. I think she'd be much more comfortable ducking into my beige fur.

Motley appears in the doorway with the dirty dishes. She stares at us in surprise, almost dropping her plate from her teeth. Lemon hasn't noticed her appearance.

I press my hoof to my mouth, letting the beige pegasus know to keep quiet. She nods subtly, quietly takes her plate to the kitchen, and just as quietly leaves the dining room.

It's a good thing she was sympathetic, giving Lemon a chance to not be embarrassed and relax with someone at her side.

The earth pony is quiet and just breathing deeply, tucked into my armor. She hugs me tighter and then lets me go.

"Thank you..." she says in a tired voice, pulling out of my embrace. She sniffs her nose, wiping her face with tears. "I... probably... go to bed. Yeah, I'll take a shower and go to bed. Tired."

She walks slowly toward the exit, her green tail barely swaying from walking. At the very exit she stops and turns to me.

"You're a... good pony," she says embarrassedly. "Thanks again."

I do my best to make my smile look as warm and friendly as possible.

After a while I leave the dining room and head for my bedroom in the 'attic'. On the way, I notice that in the main hall, Motley is lying on the only surviving couch, staring up at the ceiling. Her ears twitch as I enter. She looks at me, and returns to an unconcerned examination of the ceiling.

What is already on her mind right now? Has the sight of Lemon crying at least somewhat stirred her bored heart—or has it not? And would Motley remember the incident tomorrow morning when she saw 'Berry' again?

By the way... For that matter, had 'Berry' told her real name? I don't think so.

***

The 28th of the Month of Bread, Violetday. Thirty-eighth day of my stay.

The last day of the calendar summer in Equestria.

At breakfast, Motley doesn't say a word about yesterday, and Lemon asks me about the Council. I briefly give her the highlights and let her know that I want to go to the Crater.

"I remember," I smile at Lemon, slurping down some gruel, "that I told you to avoid that place."

"I know. But I need connections, acquaintances, to improve my chances of finding key cards. It's a lot easier with King status."

Lemon shakes his head dolefully and continues to finish his porridge. Motley and I have already eaten it all.

"So," I say, "I'm not asking you to follow me, but I can tell you that it will be extremely difficult for me there alone."

"Are you kidding me?" Lemon raises her head. "Of course I'll go with you."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

I understand why she avoids the company of the Steel Rangers, but to get into the thick of it with me... I don't want anything to happen to Lemon. I don't want to take responsibility for her life.

I turn to Motley. She shrugs.

"I'll go with you, too," she says.

Of course you will. Cherry Shine has sent her to follow me.

"Okay, we're leaving in an hour."

***

The Crater. Half of the tall buildings survived, supporting the neighboring high-rises that had fallen on top of them. Other buildings were just piles of rubble and concrete, others had collapsed roofs and several floors. Abnormal dark yellow clouds hang over this place once called Red Spark. Behind the ruined buildings I can see a huge crater left by a mega spell. The danger still emanates from it: an eerie, strange matter that resembles a dark greenish mist swirls in the air over the place. On the north side of the city are high mountains stretching to the clouds themselves.

From above, the Crater appears to be a huge maze of ruined buildings. Already from afar I see how difficult the terrain is to traverse. I look through the scope of my sniper rifle: there are raiders snooping around, fighting each other for fun. I see the distinctive signs of their habitat: lots of dried blood, remains suspended and nailed to surfaces, walls scrawled with curses and profanities. The atmosphere is oppressive and dark.

We land not far from here: if we go any farther, the raiders might be able to hit us with their anti-air guns and thus write us in the annals of history. We landed on the roof of a fairly well-preserved three-story building. Unfortunately, a group of raiders has taken a fancy to the building, and, judging by the marks on the Pip-Boy screen, there are up to a dozen of them.

We decide to split up: I go alone, and Lemon and Motley go together. The first one mutters something about how she'll have a lot of fun with this pegasus, who looks more like a statue than a living pony: she's constantly silent and shows almost no emotion. For her part, Motley isn't happy either. He never is, though.

Lemon and Motley check the third floor, and I check the second and first floor with my partner Whispering Night. I take on more raiders so that Lemon and Motley are less likely to get hurt: they're just starting out as a team.

As I walk down the stairs to the second floor, I meet two raiders waiting for me, who apparently heard us land on the roof. The closest one rushes at me with an old kitchen knife. After dodging his attack, I knock the knife out of his mouth with the stock of my rifle, then levitate the rifle at the right angle, engage the VATS, bide my time and press the trigger—the bullet goes right through and hits the second one in the neck area. Both raiders go down with one shot.

After checking their pockets, I find only one frag grenade. The other has a gun, which she didn't have time to point at me, but it's in such bad shape that it might crumble to dust the next time I fire it. Looking around the rest of the room, I find several magazines of small-caliber ammunition that don't fit my gun, and quite a few homemade narcotics. I will not take them.

Shots are heard from the third floor: it looks like the party has started for my partners, too.

Not finding anything interesting on the second floor, I go down to the first floor and find myself in a small corridor, where several raiders have barricaded themselves, hiding behind overturned furniture. Pulling out a grenade, I pull the pin and throw this hot potato where the scum are hiding.

"Grenade!" one of the raiders yells out in a panic. Two of them run out of cover, but the third doesn't make it: the blast rips his front hoof off. I activate the VATS and fire one shot at each of them with Whispering Night. They fall dead.

After looking around the corridor and finding no one else, I check the equipment of the raiders I just killed. Rusty junk and weapons. They're clearly not the type to attack the Waterfall Farms and the Steelmane Mines to the northwest.

I check the other rooms: there's a raider in one of them, in the bathroom, who's having fun with the decaying corpse of a raiding mare. I take out my shock sword and stick the blade in his neck. He's so dead with his 'snake' in the mare.

I wouldn't want to die like that.

This one has cheap drugs and junk in his pockets, too.

There are stoned-out raiders in the kitchen—they don't notice my presence, even when they stare at me point-blank. I smash their heads in with an energy-magic knuckle.

The refrigerators are littered with pony meat; in the kitchen there are several cases of cheap drugs in various places. There's blood on the walls, profanity on the walls, and fresh guts hanging from the ceiling, which serve as a kind of garland. There are some recently murdered radroaches.

In the hallway, Lemon and Motley are waiting for me.

"Find anything interesting?" I ask.

"No, just strawberry jelly," Lemon replies.

It isn't until a few seconds later that I realize it's about the raiders' smeared brains on the walls.

Clearly, killing my own kind is not good, but sometimes there is simply no other option—so it's better not to think about it. Their aimless wanderings in this world are over, and they have found peace... Sounds like the words of some religious fanatic. Nasty.

On the other hand... killing my own kind. I'm a human being, and ponies are a different species to me. So why do I care? Because I look like them? Or because they act like humans? I think it's both at once.

We walk out of a building that was once a small hotel, a stop before entering the city in pre-war times.

After walking a few hundred feet toward the Crater, I notice two friendly markings on the compass. They move quickly on the compass and seem to be right in front of us, but... no one is there. I raise my head and see something big and feathered dive overhead. The outline resembles a griffon, and a lesser silhouette can be seen next to it.

They land right in front of us.