The Ship of State

Chapters

2. Prologue II – Taking the Toy Throne
3. Sprouting Roots I – A Slow Morning
4. Sprouting Roots II – Charting a Course
5. Sprouting Roots III – Fresh Faces
6. Sprouting Roots IV – Fortuitous Interruption
8. Sprouting Roots VI – Give Us Your Huddled Masses
9. Sprouting Roots VII – That's a Lot of Ponies...
10. Interlude – Ripped from the Headlines
11. Growing Pains I – Be Careful What You Wish For
12. Growing Pains II – Downward Spiral
13. Growing Pains III – The Art of Logistics
14. Growing Pains IV – Visitors for You, First Minister
15. Growing Pains V – Out of the Frying Pan...
16. Growing Pains VI – Home Stretch
17. Growing Pains VII – Cruel Lessons and Cruel Equations
18. Growing Pains VIII – The Light of Dawn
19. Interlude II – Torn from the Headlines
20. Interlude II – Private Correspondence
21. Deeper Waters I – Making a Home a Rome
22. Deeper Waters II – Plans and Preparations
23. Deeper Waters III - Consolidation
24. Deeper Waters IV - Secondary Considerations
25. Deeper Waters V - The Personal and the Professional
26. Deeper Waters VI - Government 'em Up
1. Prologue I – An Elaborate Hoax
7. Sprouting Roots V – Heart-to-Heartstrings

2. Prologue II – Taking the Toy Throne

Fate, it seemed, just couldn’t take a hint.

“Look, your Highness, with all due respect, we both know Princess Celestia is making an ass out of both of us here. Just… a country with a population of one is not a serious entity to establish relations with. Just go tell her that.”

“And I’ll tell you this again, ignorant peasant! I have been strictly instructed, by her Highness Princess Celestia, that I am to ask for credence as ambassador to this farce I find myself in! As much as I would like to depart your pigsty, the Princess did not instruct me to fail!”

Prince Blueblood was sitting opposite me, on the very same seat Celestia had taken her tea on just under a week ago. It was precisely one day after I got a country in the post courtesy of Swift Wings. The Prince was very, very unhappy with his situation. I wasn’t much better than him myself, in that regard at least.

It was not too pleasant outside – I was too far away for Las Pegasus, the closest big city, to bother sending their weather ponies my way, and the nearby hamlets didn’t have any spare pegasi, so the weather here did as it pleased. Natural thunderstorms in Equestria were rare, fortunately, so the worst of it was usually just a drenching. And right now, it was absolutely pissing it down outside. Naturally, Blueblood had the great misfortune to insist on an open-top flying carriage. I could only hope his guards weren’t as miserable as he was.

I can’t say I wasn’t warned, though. The Crown explicitly told me they’d be sending someone to ‘establish diplomatic relations’ with my sorry arse. Initially, I had assumed – and also hoped and prayed – that it was just a punchline, of sorts, a good quip from a bored ruler, and mostly forgotten about it. By now, though, I could only assume Celestia was planning to drag out this joke as long as she possibly could, far beyond the point at which it stopped being funny, and then a little bit beyond that. The reasoning behind it, though, remained a mystery to me. I guessed even physical deities needed to get their rocks off every now and then. Why not do it through me?

If I’d known it would mean dealing with Ambassador Blueballs, though, I’d have told her to shove off.

To say we had a history would be a bit misleading. I was made aware of him, and vice versa, by Celestia before we had met in person. I had assumed that, like her, Blueblood would be a wise, kindly sort, since Celestia did refer to him as her nephew; surely she must have taught him some manners! Then we actually met, and Blueblood turned out to be an enormous inflamed cock-end. The conversation didn’t last fifteen minutes before Royal Guards had to step in to make sure it wouldn’t devolve into a fistfight, and I was politely escorted away soon after. I declined a second meeting.

And lo and behold, here he was again, giving me the shock of my life, knocking on my door and telling me Mummy Dearest herself sent him to be the ambassador of Equestria to the Free State.

By this point, my head was in my hands, my half-finished afternoon coffee already merely lukewarm. Blueblood declined any beverage, naturally, because lower class scum, or something to that effect. My coffee, though, didn’t seem to have much effect on the headache he had given me. I was practically despairing at having to listen to more of his drivel, so I chose to try again with a different topic.

“Fine,” I said, tiredly. “Let’s… just shelve this topic for now. If everyone is so dead-set on acting like this shambles is totally legitimate. What, exactly, does Celestia hope to gain from you being here? Why send you?”

“Hmm.” Blueblood seemed to put some thought into it, apparently discarding his earlier vitriol. “I haven’t the foggiest idea, actually. My diplomatic abilities are largely concerned with fellow nobility; statecraft is a mostly unrelated field. Perhaps her Highness wished me to gain some experience in this matter? I can’t for the life of me imagine why she would choose this occasion for it, though...” His expression slowly turned more and more inward. I already had an inkling of the real answer, though: it would have gotten Blueballs out of Celestia’s hair for a good long while, and would annoy me in the process. Another win-win for the Equestrian Crown.

Well fuck you too, Celly. I’ll have to ask her for wages for my babysitting.

“If that’s the case, then she’s fooling herself.” Blueblood shrugged out of it, looking back up to me with a quizzical expression as I spoke. “The purpose of sending an ambassador to a foreign state is to represent the sender’s interests in that country, to act as a communication channel between the two governments, and usually to improve relations between the two. You being here, right now, does none of these things.”

“Quite right,” he nodded at me, to my surprise. He didn’t even look offended. “Equestria has no reason to send diplomats to itself, and-”

“That’s not what I mean,” I cut him off. He still didn’t take offense, which I took a moment to marvel at. “Remember, Celestia is acting like this is the real deal, and that means so do you, since you’re technically now under her employ. According to her, this is an independent state.” I counted off from my fingers. “First: represent Equestrian interests in this state. What interests? I’m pretty sure that you’re the only Equestrian here, right now, barring me for obvious reasons. Does the Crown want more wood than its eighty-five forests can provide? Of course not. Equestrian interests would best be served if this was still Equestria, and it’s not. So that’s a moot point.

“Second: provide a point of contact for our government to yours, and vice versa. Celestia and I already exchange mail regularly, and before you ask, yes, that does include official government business.” A slight exaggeration – it had only really happened by mail once, five days ago. I just didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. “She even visits me here in person. If she wants to talk to me, she can damn well make time to do it herself.

“And third: improve relations.” I let my hand fall and gave Blueblood a flat look. “I’ll be honest, your Highness. You are not a very pleasant person to be around, something I think our first meeting proved to me already. So far, you have been deliberately offensive, demeaning, holier-than-thou to me, and very little else; if this is how you continue to act, then I will start taking it as a diplomatic insult, and I’ll personally send your arse packing back to Canterlot, where you will have to explain to your beloved auntie how you were declared persona non grata because you just couldn’t stop slagging me off.” My look turned frosty. “I happen to be a close personal friend of Princess Celestia; we’re both on a first-name basis with each other, in private. How do you think she’s going to take your... indiscretion?”

“...I see.” Blueblood was being unusually quiet. Had I actually managed to get through to him? “I never expected to be taught diplomacy by a mere country peasant.”

Never mind.

“First time for everything,” I muttered, standing up from my chair and beelining for my emergency stash. It might have been a little too early for drinking, but honestly, after even twenty minutes of his whining – and I had wasted a lot more than that with him – I was about ready to toss him off a cliff. Or, failing that, myself. Alcohol was… a preferable alternative, if not a healthy one.

"Fuck it all to hell." This joke of hers was starting to wear thin. I might well have considered that its only purpose was to shunt off Blueblood to a punishment duty, and that my ill-fated declaration was just a convenient excuse for it, if the explanation didn't make Celly out to be so mean-spirited. Besides, she was the head of a millennia-old state herself: something so drastic as the birth of a nation under a literal dimensional outsider is not the kind of thing competent statesmen would ever even conceive of, let alone carry out with such infuriating vigour.

A bottle of my speciality found itself into my hands as I pondered. I didn't want any of this! I didn't want to be a monarch, or a president or whatever, I didn't want to deal with Blueblood's shit! Was it really too much to ask for a quiet, peaceful life in a cabin in the woods? I had half a mind to tell Glueblood to piss off and call up Celestia to yell at her until this shit all went back to normal.

It took distressingly little time to discard the notion. Even if Blueblood listened to me, even if Celestia listened to me, there's no way the universe would let me off so easily. Not after the trouble it already went to. In this world, being pulled into another situation where a position of power was thrust onto me was a depressingly possible eventuality. If I didn’t get shunted off into another, worse world, that is.

"What is that?" Blueblood asked, as I sat down and poured myself a tiny glass of my spirit. The liquid plopped into the cup, the sound of which made him recoil. "Is that some kind of yokel specialty?" His eyes studied the glass carefully, and soon widened. "Is it... it's green?"

"And guaranteed to knock you on your arse." I had to pour it into the rest of my coffee, which had by now cooled down to room temperature, to make sure it would even pretend to be palatable. "Except if you weigh less than fifty kilograms, like most of you do. 'Cause if you do, it'll kill ya!" I gave a mock-toast with my coffee mug, and downed as much of it as I could stomach – one sip, about a fifth of the contents.

It was not a good idea, in all honesty.

"Is this truly all you do, here?" Blueblood asked, disturbed, as I hacked my lungs out, trying to get the burn out of my throat. "How much of your crops do you eat, and how much do you drink?"

I waved my free hand at him dismissively, my other pounding at my chest. All I could do was sputter and groan. Fuck, but that tasted awful. Worse than usual, I mean. Black Tail Ale was generally an unpleasant experience at the best of times – coffee, evidently, didn't mix well with it.

"Bleh. Best not try that again," I said to myself, getting my throat under control again. "And no, Blueblood, believe it or not but I don't actually get pissed up every other day. Most of my liqueur goes to trade, and most of what little I keep is far too strong for me to drink regularly. It's more of a rainy day fund, really, if my bits ever run dry. Besides, the really good stuff isn't made from my crops anyway."

Blueblood shook his head. As I stood up, collecting my two cups from the table, so did he, rising along and preening himself with his magic. He called out behind me. "Well, this has been a most productive day, hasn't it, mister Inns?"

"Quite so," I said, pouring the contents of my mug into the sink, and tossing the empty cups in with them. "Has the rain let up yet? I'd be glad to see your arse packing home."

"As I have already made clear, mister Inns," he said, moving closer to me so as not have to raise his voice, which had now become strained. "I am to serve as the Equestrian ambassador here. I cannot do that from Canterlot."

"Yes, you have made that clear," I said lowly, now losing my patience, not bothering to face him.

"I can only do that while I am here."

"Quite right."

"Which I can only do if you accept my letter of credence."

"Yep."

"So will you?"

"No."

"And whyever not?"

"Because I don't want to!" I exploded, spinning on my heel and stalking my way over to Blueblood, looming over him with all my height. Ponies really were quite short. "I don't fucking want to have to deal with any of this bullshit! Yes, it was funny the first time, Celly; it was funny to see the phrase Awesome Humanity on government documentation, and it was funny to refer to myself as Supreme Overlord and have it technically mean something, but I have long since stopped laughing! Because let me tell you something, Mister Blueblood, the joke wore out the second you walked up and knocked on my door, and I can assure you, insisting on continuing your fucking bullshit is doing you no favours. So I kindly ask you, now, to get out of my house, get out of my 'country,' and piss off!"

Silence filled the cabin as my tirade tapered off. I found that I had backed Blueblood into a corner of the hallway, right in front of my front door; he looked just about ready to faint from fright. That, or try bucking my head clean off. He wouldn't bother using his magic; the first meeting had shown him why.

I stepped back, willing myself to breathe slowly and calm my heart rate. I screwed my eyes shut, rubbing at them with a hand, trying to sort out my thoughts. Neither of us spoke for a long while. I saw Blueblood walk past me slowly, apparently doing some sort of breathing exercise. I chose to stay near the door.

And good thing too, as just as I was about to open my mouth, yet another knock came from it.

"Great, more bozos," I said, just loud enough for Blueblood to hear. Not bothering to disguise my grimace at the thought of even more unwanted visitors, I quickly unlatched the door and opened it.

My hand fell from the door-handle. Before even spotting the pony right in front of me, I saw four huge pony-drawn carriages milling around, each with a few workers apparently unloading them. The rain had thankfully tapered off, leaving the ground a sodden, muddy mess, yet the earth ponies didn't seem too concerned, or even like they were being slowed down much. One cart already had its contents strewn across a sheet of fabric on the ground, and soon began to disassemble before my eyes. Only a small part of it was due to unicorn magic: three ponies were banging their hooves across it in a strange pattern, somehow causing the planks that made it up to simply fall away from each other.

The sound of a throat clearing brought me back to my porch. In front of me stood a pony, a tall mare with a dark coat and mane, covered in a raincoat and hat that spoke of a distinctly pegasus way of thinking. Her brow twitched, and I realised that I had been staring.

"Oh! My apologies, madam... erm, oh, please, do come in!" I eventually regained my mental footing, quickly ushering my impatient guest inside. She pulled off her rain clothes by hoof, revealing her wings... even with what little I knew, they didn't look to me to be in great shape. I made a note of her cutie mark, which appeared to be two crossed hammers; not something I’d have expected on a pegasus. She cordially invited herself into my living room, where Blueblood took one look at her and immediately dismissed her as unimportant. She did not return the favour.

"Lord Commissioner. A distinct pleasure."

Having written her off, Blueblood was taken off guard by her apparently knowing his profession. "Ah, and a likewise pleasure, miss...?"

Neither did she return his greeting, turning instead to face me. I had to bite my lip to stifle a laugh at Blueblood's incensed expression, one even I hadn't seen before. I refocused quickly, as she trotted up to me and offered a hoof, which I shook quickly. "My name is Sturdy Construct. It's a pleasure to meet you." Her words held a certain warmth that was lacking earlier, with Blueblood. Not much of it, mind, but enough that I got the impression that I was at least better regarded than him. I could only raise an eyebrow.

"The pleasure is all mine. I hope your journey here wasn't terribly unpleasant." I led her to the kitchen. Blueblood decided to stay where he was, inspecting my living room apparently out of having nothing better to do with his time, which was perfectly fine by me. "Can I get you anything? Tea, coffee, water? Rot-gut?"

Construct threw me an odd look. "Rot-gut?"

"Personally approved by Princess Celestia herself!" I nodded eagerly. "Well, about eighteen hours after she drank it. That ought to give you some idea of what it is, actually."

She recoiled, disturbed, at my words. "Right... I think I'll be fine."

"Suit yourself." I offered her a chair at the dining table, which she gladly took. I remained standing. "So, now that's all out of the way, I have to ask, with all respect, what in the fuck is going on outside my house?"

Construct’s lips twitched up, briefly, before her expression was swallowed by an all-consuming professional demeanour. "My company has been selected, by decree of the Crown, to assist in developing your territory here, in accordance with Section Three, Paragraph Twenty-Nine, Part Thirteen of the Habitation Safety Regulations of the ESPHA, in order to make this area suitable for general habitation."

"...Okay?" The legalese mainly passed me by, but I thought I got the gist. "So, what, you're here to build houses so that other people can live here?"

"Among other things, yes," Construct confirmed with a small, knowing smile. "That is the broad strokes."

I simply frowned, an uneasy feeling coming over me. "Right. Incidentally, has the Crown told you anything about where we are now?"

"No, nopony has," she said, back to a carefully neutral look. "Is there something I should know?"

"You mean you don't know you're technically not in Equestria right now?"

A pregnant silence ensued. I waited patiently for a response, though Construct appeared to simply sit there and stare at me. It occurred to me after a little too long that she might not exactly have believed me; the idea made me sigh in resignation.

"Blueblood?" I called over her head. "Get over here and tell the young lady what you're here for, would you kindly?"

A snort of disgust emanated from the living room, shortly followed by the royal jackass himself. To his credit, he didn't seem outwardly pissed off, aside from a twitch in his eye that could easily be mistaken for mere irritation. "Miss Construct?" he began, drawing to a stop next to me, facing her from her side. "I am here on behalf of the Crown, with instructions to establish diplomatic relations between the Principality of Equestria and the Free State." Mercifully, he left the second part of the name out. "Overlord Inns received the official recognition only a week ago, but nevertheless you are, in fact, in Free State territory, as decreed by the Office of the Celestial Diarchy."

I had to give the man – excuse me, pony – props: he knew his way around words. As soon as the word 'office' left his lips, Construct's eyes widened, and darted across to me. When I nodded, she all but threw herself off her chair and prostrated herself before me. “Oh Celestia, I didn’t…” Her words were faintly muffled, on account of her speaking into the floorboards. “Please, Overlord, I apologi-”

“Pick yourself up, would ye?” I barked, irritated, at which she immediately complied, moving so fast as to seemingly appear standing, rather than having moved at all. Her eyes – a distracting shade of cyan, I noted idly – were wide, and shined with unspilled tears. “First, don’t look at me like that, I’m not gonna bite yer head off for acting like a normal person. Second, don’t call me Overlord. Right now, I’m trying just about my damnedest to fob this whole sorry business away from me.”

“Huh?” The terror on Construct’s face melted away, into something rather more baffled. “Away? But… the Diarchy decreed it! How could you-”

I interrupted again. “It was a joke. I made a joke to some guards, and they took it seriously, called Celestia, and I guess she decided to turn it back on me.”

“Overlord Inns,” spoke Blueblood, “seems unable to accept his new position as ruler. He happens to be a close friend of her Highness; perhaps he sees it as creating a wedge between them? Or perhaps the facetiousness from which his position was created chafes against his dignity.”

I shook my head, snorting through my nose. Blueblood was spot on, annoyingly, though of course he didn’t catch on to the fact Celestia was the one making the wedge in the first place. Him continuing to call me Overlord didn’t help, either.

A silence descended upon us, each contemplating something or another. I could speak for neither of my temporary companions, but personally, I was getting close to my boiling point. In all honesty, I was never terribly good with people. I tolerated Celestia primarily because she knew, or had learned at some point, of my introversion, and often acted around it when she visited. A majority of her visits over my time here consisted of us two reading in my living room, or taking a walk, in silence, or at least over very unserious topics or small talk. Sometimes she had more to discuss, which was fine by me as long as it wasn’t too often. Rarely, even I had to let off steam about something or other, which was also fine by her.

Neither Blueblood nor Construct were bound by the same convention. The former mostly because he was an arsehole, and the latter because I had met her less than fifteen minutes ago and didn’t know how I ticked, and might not care even if she did. None of that was their fault, naturally, and I knew that well enough, but it didn’t stop me from chafing. I might well have spoken more this week than I did in the last two months. I had half a mind just to capitulate to Blueblood, just to get the two stooges out of my house. Unbelievable.

Yet more knocking on my door brought me out of my musings. I swear to God, I’m just about ready to start snapping bones in half, and no mistake! I stalked over to my door and threw it open violently, gritting my teeth all the while. The pony that was revealed behind it shrunk back before my less-than-friendly glare, which soon melted away when I realised how frightened I was making the poor thing.

“Sorry,” I said to them – no, her – automatically, with almost-sincere remorse. “Not your fault, I’ve just had a long… hmm, two hours or so. What can… uh...”

I was sidetracked by the sight behind her. The carriages were gone, a single neat pile of variously-sized wooden planks and beams taking their place, next to a haphazard pile of miscellaneous tools, gadgets and other items, most of which I couldn’t even guess the purpose behind. About a dozen tents had sprung up since I had invited Sturdy Construct in, just over ten minutes ago, with about twice as many ponies milling about them aimlessly, their work apparently complete. A few of them had stopped to stare at me, being close enough to hear the slam of my door as I flung it open.

“I’m… sorry to bother you, sire…” The pony before me regained my attention, speaking in a low voice, with head bowed, that reminded me of a pauper begging for change on the pavement. “But… I was hop- …wondering, if you could… ah, perhaps…?”

“Hey.” I knelt down, hoping and praying I was speaking in a reassuring tone of voice. Darn it, but ponies could be just the cutest things sometimes, and this one was tugging at my heartstrings something fierce. “Relax, I ain’t gonna bite ya.” I reached out to ruffle her off-white mane – no, that was just a highlight, the mane was actually cyan – carefully avoiding touching her horn. She shuddered faintly when my hand made contact, but soon she was leaning into it, eyes closed in contentment. “See? No harm done. Now, you just settle down, yeah, and tell me what’cha want.”

The mare’s eyes remained closed, as I kept stroking her, hoping I came off as comforting. “Well… I was just following the caravan heading this way, looking for somewhere to stay, and it stopped here...” Words seemed to tumble forth from her without her input. “And I thought that they’d have a good reason to stop here, and I… um.” She finally opened her eyes, prompting me to pull my hand back. Desperation was writ large on her face. “Nopony here was willing to let me sleep in their tents, and I was, um, wondering...”

“You have nowhere to sleep?” I prodded. The mare scrunched her eyes shut again, breathing in and out shakily, before nodding once. I looked up to the sky: the afternoon had passed into evening, the sun hanging low in the sky, casting brilliant crimson hues across the few patches of open sky not smothered by clouds. I had spent longer talking with Blueblood and Construct than I had thought, it seemed.

“I’m really sorry to have to ask you this, sire…” Her voice was tempered with so much defeat that it made my eyes sting. “But I really have nothing else-”

“What’s your name, dear?” I asked, standing up to my full height. Her eyes fluttered open, locked back on me, and I couldn’t dare to not return my gaze on those shimmering orbs. I didn’t think myself a very empathetic sort; what on Earth was this pony doing to me? Could some sad pony really reduce me to so little?

“Lyra,” she finally returned, whisper-quiet. I nodded to myself.

“Well, Lyra. I’m not heartless enough to allow someone to sleep out in the open like you, especially with the sort of weather we’ve been having here.” With every word I spoke, her eyes lit up brighter and brighter. “Why don’t you come inside, and I’ll see what I can do for ya, eh?”

Honest to God, this mare squealed like a busted radio when I finished talking. I had to rub at my ears to deal with the feedback those vocal chords blasted into them. Neither was the rest of me safe from her assault, Lyra latching onto my chest with her legs with all the force of a hydraulic press, forcing me to rebalance myself lest her weight make me faceplant onto the ground and crush her under me. I had to move to support her against me, which soon turned into a reciprocal hug once I started processing the relief-wracked sobs coming out of her. Christ, what was wrong with this woman?

“Thank you, thank you, thank you...” She kept repeating those two words, over and over, in between huge, shaky gasps for breath, and equally shaky, cathartic chuckles that spoke, loud and clear, of some great calamity finally coming to an end for this poor soul.

In the end, I had to carry her inside, dutifully ignoring the looks ponies outside were throwing me. Blueblood was back in my living room, perusing my bookshelf with uncharacteristic interest. Construct was still in the kitchen, gulping down a glass of some liquid I couldn’t identify, but at least was colourless. Both of them turned to my direction, as I set Lyra down under the arch that served to connect the two rooms.

“Who is this?” both Blueblood and Construct said in unison, making me smirk. Lyra just kept sniffing and wiping her eyes dry.

When I opened my mouth to tell them, though, I paused. Somehow, introducing her as merely ‘Lyra’ felt like a disservice to her, despite it literally being her name. It felt weird to even consider, but… I felt like I had known her for a lot longer than the three minutes I actually did.

Assuming this wasn’t some sort of ploy (which I could do safely, considering she was a pony), I could infer some sort of bad thing having happened to her, at some point before now. Perhaps recently, perhaps not, perhaps for most or all of her life. She simply reeked of desperation – not that she needed to, I considered. Coming all this way, presumably all the way from Canterlot if this Construct and her caravan was to be believed, in weather like what we just had not an hour ago, just for a chance that something might go right for her at their destination… few people, ponies or otherwise, did that sort of thing just for shits and giggles.

She was awfully timid, too, I realised in a flash. I’m… sorry to bother you, sire…But… I was hoping… wondering, if you could… ah, perhaps…? The picture being painted in my mind was not a pretty one. Lyra latched on to me with all the force of a hydraulic press… After simply being told she could spend a night indoors?

I could only look down on her with pity. For me, sleeping indoors was just something I assumed automatically. It was no big deal, after all, merely one of the axioms of civilised life – or so I had thought. Even back home, I was not so naïve to think that tragedy wasn’t a part of life, that beggars and the homeless were simply myth, that humanity was above prejudice and hatred against people who had done nothing to deserve it – but Equestria was a better place than that, and as much as it galled me to admit, ponies were better people than us. And yet, here a mare stood before me, blinking tears away because a complete stranger (in quite possibly every sense of the term) deigned to treat her with even a tiny sliver of decency. It shouldn’t have been that way. Not here. And yet…

And then, before I could peel myself away from her and actually answer the question I had been posed… Lyra gave me a smile. It was a smile so brilliant, so joyous, so total, that it just about stopped my heart. One final thought hit me, then, that I had helped this woman when she needed it most, and I saw then what Celestia, perhaps, had meant for me to do with what she had given me: to help. The smile Lyra had given me, and still continued to give, told me I had just changed the direction of her life, for the better. I had started helping her out of what could possibly have been the lowest point of her whole life. And it was all because I let her into my house for the night.

I imagined, then, how many lives I could change with an entire nation behind me.

I stood up from where I had laid Lyra down, ruffling her mane one more time, again carefully avoiding her horn. Adjusting my glasses, I looked first to Blueblood, then to Construct, then back to Lyra, and finally, grudgingly, back to Blueblood.

“Blueblood,” I called, and he trotted over, clearly confused. I spoke as if on autopilot, trusting in my new course with absolute conviction. “Let Princess Celestia know that I formally accept your diplomatic credence. You have my blessing to officially establish a diplomatic mission of Equestria to the Free State.” His eyes lit up in satisfaction, and he nodded to me, twice, before heading for the exit. I found, to my surprise, that not even letting him win so blatantly dampened my newfound soaring mood. “Construct,” I continued. “Likewise to you. Do whatever you have to do, you and yours. Oh, actually,” I snapped my fingers as a thought came to me, “I’d like a report on exactly what you plan to do here before you start, at your earliest convenience.” Construct nodded, and set off to follow Blueblood out of my house.

“And me?” asked Lyra, looking up to me with worried eyes. I met her gaze evenly, and smiled knowingly.

“Do you have anywhere else to go? Any friends or family that might miss you?” Lyra shook her head, lowering her eyes to the floor in sorrow. “Nothing? Not even a home to go back to?”

“...no...” came a mumble. I knelt down and scratched the top of her head, until she looked back up to me with shiny eyes. All the while, the same kind smile adorned my face.

“Would you like to stay here?”

A breath hitched in her throat. It took a few tries for her to start up again. “I… stay here?”

“More than just stay, in fact,” I agreed. “How does a Free State citizenship sound, to you?”

And for the longest moment of my life, Lyra made not a sound, and not a move – except for her eyes, which seemed to quake with emotion. I saw pools of liquid gather at their corners, which soon burst into streaks trailing down her cheeks. Her jaw broke first, moving up and down soundlessly, snapping shut just as the rest of her came to life – and Lyra mashed her eyes shut and threw herself into me, damn near bawling her eyes out.

All I could think to do in that moment was to stroke her back, whispering words of comfort in her ear, letting her work her emotions out.

It sounded so silly, in hindsight, offering a pony a citizenship of a country with a population of two, but right then I couldn’t give a toss about anything else. I had helped somebody who, by all accounts, had badly needed it. I had helped.

And I was damned if I was going to stop there.

3. Sprouting Roots I – A Slow Morning

Despite having woken up on my living room couch this morning, my spirits were strangely high. The couch was nowhere near as comfortable as my bed, and waking up on it in the morning was generally a sign that I had gone too far the previous night, or at least that I had stayed up reading too long. Neither a book nor a splitting headache accompanied me, however. The only thing that made itself known was last evening’s events, sorting themselves out in my mind.

I hadn’t left the house since Lyra broke down in my hallway. She had really tuckered herself out, the poor girl; I insisted she take my bed, which she eventually and reluctantly agreed to. That explained the couch. And my mood, too – doing good felt good, after all. I also offered her the use of my bathroom, which she snapped up right quick - I didn't think she was that desperate for a wash, but in hindsight it really was tragically obvious she'd have taken it.

Blueblood was officially here to stay as my Equestrian connection. Fuck only knows what he expected to do, though. I had bugger-all intentions to do anything in terms of diplomatic activity, personally. Probably Blueblood was here just to act as a magical mailbox for Celestia and I. I wasn’t sure what to make of him, as Ambassador – our first meeting was crap, yes, and most of our second too, but towards the end of our talk he had seemingly mellowed out, dispensing with all his talk of peasants and yokels and pigsties. Maybe there was a scrap of a decent, intelligent person in there, buried under all the muck of ego and titles. All I had to do was figure out how I could draw it out of him.

Construct was still here somewhere, too, I thought. I didn’t pay much mind to her; she was here to do a job, and by what little I’d made of her she’d damn well do it, if perhaps while keeping a wary eye on me.

Oh, right. I saw a few more lads outside my house last night, too; the ones with all the tents and wagons. Probably Construct’s crew, here to develop some prime real estate. At the very least I’d have a few more summer homes than I did now. Their setting up tents didn’t speak for an extended stay, or for very comfortable off-work conditions. I could only hope their paycheck made up for it – and that I wasn’t going to have to be the one to pay it.

Recount complete, I got off my couch, got dressed quickly, and moseyed over to my bedroom, quietly opening the door and throwing a look inside. Lyra was still in bed, but a quick glance showed she was already awake – as her wide-open eyes swivelling my way gave away immediately. I gave her a quick wave and backpedalled out of there, closing the door behind me. Looked like she was doing fine, at least.

I meandered my way over to my kitchen, getting ready to make some coffee to start the day. I wasn’t quite sure what to do with it, in all honesty; nothing was on the agenda just yet. The crops didn’t need watering, the still was empty, and I wasn’t running low on any essentials. I reckoned I could take the day easily, dealing with things as they came. Business as usual, really.

First, though, coffee.

Time passed by quickly as I absorbed myself in the mundanity of life, sipping at my drink robotically, leaning on the windowsill in my kitchen, staring out at the view of a whole bunch of trees, again glowing with the dawn’s sun. I hadn’t noticed the glow having risen above the treetops until a touch on my leg made me jolt, and turn my head around.

It was just Lyra. Of course. What else would it have been?

“Good morning, Lyra,” I greeted. “Sleep well?”

“Yes, I did,” she returned quietly, with a gentle smile. I turned back to the window.

“Good, that’s good.” I finished the last of my coffee, and reached over to put the cup in the sink, which had become quite backed up with dirty dishes. Welp, looks like I found my first task for the day.

The sound of a throat clearing brought my attention behind me, to Lyra, looking quite guilty. I raised my brow. “Yes, Lyra? You needed something?”

“Well, ah...” She was trying hard to not make eye contact. I gave her all the time she needed. “I… was wondering about… breakfast-”

“Oh, right!” I barely avoided facepalming. Christ, I’d almost forgotten about that. I tended to take my breakfast late in the morning, at least a few hours after I’d woken up, but of course most ponies didn’t work the same way. “Sorry about that. I can whip something up for you right quick.” Besides, Lyra was technically a guest in my house, for the foreseeable future – it’d be poor form to deny her any food, after all. I moved over to my icebox, in the corner of the room. “Have any preferences? I’ve got bread, potatoes, carrots, lettuce, berries… hope you’re not a fan of eggs, though, ‘cause they’re tough to get here without any chickens of my own.”

“You’d… do that?” And in just three simple words, she made me stop in my tracks. Halfway to grabbing a pair of carrots, I turned back to look her in the eyes.

“Of course I would. It’s the least I can do.” I closed the icebox, prize in hand.

“Why?” Lyra all but whispered, though still loudly enough for me to catch. It was all I could do to shake my head at her in disbelief, instead of rushing over to cuddle the sad out of her. I put the carrots down on the counter and walked over to her, still by the sink, and knelt down to her eye level.

“Because you need it, and you want it. And I can give it.” Lyra finally dared to meet my eyes with her own, shining brightly. I gave her a gentle pat on the back. “I’m not gonna pry if you don’t want me to, but I can tell you’ve gone through some nasty business in your life, for you to be so afraid of asking these things.” I inhaled, and held it for a beat. “Well, ya don’t need to be. That part of your life is over, now. On my honour as Supreme Overlord,” I winked, before standing up and gesturing back to the carrots. “You can have ‘em, if you like. Not a fan, myself. Hell, have anything you like for breakfast, I won’t stop ya. Mi casa es tu casa, as they say.” I winked once more, before spinning on my heel and making for my front door.

Fuck me, I thought, fumbling at my door locks. It’s too damn early for heart-to-hearts. I’m already feeling drained. Or maybe the coffee's not kicked in yet.

Defeating the door locks, I stepped outside, savouring the sight of- oh right, none of that any more, there were tents in the way now. I looked around, hoping to spot Blueblood or Construct among the small amount already milling about aimlessly, but without any luck. I didn’t feel like chasing either of them down yet; they could always come find me if they needed to. Neither did I feel like making conversation with any of these ponies outside. And finally, nothing came to mind as to any work I needed doing outside; crops were watered by the rain, and they still weren't ready for harvest yet. Concluding my inspection, I stepped back indoors.

Back in the kitchen, I found Lyra at the table happily floating a few slices of bread into her mouth... just straight bread. The sight made me wince. The carrots on the counter had disappeared, at least.

“You sure you don’t want anything on that?” I asked, walking over to the sink to get started on the washing up.

A pause came before she answered. “No thank you.”

“Suit yourself.” I busied myself with the dishes for a while, pouring water from a jar on them and scrubbing them clean. Running water was a luxury I couldn’t feasibly install here, not without any water mains or even a well nearby, but I had long since grown used to it. Come to think of it, I had gotten used to an awful lot of luxuries not being present here. Two years seemed like such a long time ago now, back when everything was still fresh and terrifying. Now, it was just… life.

Well. Not everything was 'just life' any more, I mused. Not with a roommate living with me and a bunch of twats camping on my front lawn waiting to build wooden commie-blocks for the glory of Overlord Inns. I chuckled at the image, putting the last plate down to dry.

Lyra had finished her ‘breakfast,’ I saw, and was now looking up at me with an inscrutable expression. “Pardon me, sire,” she began. “But, um…” She swallowed, gently biting the inside of her cheek. “May I ask you a question?”

Fucking hell, I just couldn’t help myself. “Didn’t you just?”

Fortunately, her expression morphed into one I could understand much more easily – one of decided unimpressed-ness. “Sire, I am serious.”

“Ah, see?” I was greatly amused by her utterly flat look – my other thought about it didn’t make itself known until… “There is a way to draw you out of your shell!”

Predictably enough, Lyra then withdrew back into her usual persona. “I am sorry, sire,” she grovelled. “Please forgive my impudence.”

“Hey, no worries.” Great, now I was feeling down again. Christ, but was this mare good at pushing my emotional buttons. “I’m just messing with ya. What d’ya wanna ask?”

She looked back up at me then, and I saw in her eyes genuine curiosity, her reticence melting into nothing. The sight was almost overpowering. “What kind of creature are you? I’ve never seen one of you before.”

“I’m a human,” I said, vaguely bemused. I would have thought most everyone in Equestria knew who I was by now, going by what the papers had to say about Celestia’s announcement when I got here. Even the tiny settlements up the river knew who I was by the time I visited them for the first time. “And no, you wouldn't have. To make a long story short, I showed up in Canterlot two years ago, and after a few weeks Celestia let me stay and live here. It was all over the papers for months, as I understand.”

“Oh.” Her face fell, for whatever reason. “I thought...” I inhaled to speak, but Lyra cut me off before I could open my mouth. “You seem too nice to have been in Canterlot.”

Her words gave me pause. What was that supposed to mean? “What do you mean by that?”

Her mouth clacked shut audibly. After a few seconds of silence, Lyra finally summed up the courage to simply shake her head. Bad juju, right. I waved my hand as if to air away what I just said.

“Well anyway, I’m not from Canterlot, really. I’m actually not from Equus at all.” That seemed to do the trick: Lyra’s head snapped up to mine like a hungry shark, eyes wide in disbelief.

“You… I...” she sputtered. I patiently waited for her mouth to start working properly again. “Th… You’re an alien?”

“Sure am,” I said. It was close enough, at any rate; only the pedantic would take issue. Lyra just stared at me, eyes still wide. I shot her a grin. “Yeah. Didn’t think you’d ever be roomies with an alien, did ya? Come on, let me tell you about myself, hmm?”

I waved for her to follow me into the living room, where I took the couch. Lyra sat down in an armchair, facing perpendicular to it, a coffee table filling the gap between us. She was still staring at me in awe as I began to tell her about my arrival here. She laughed when I told her I inadvertently hit Celestia in the face with a door, and smirked when I spoke about Blueblood. When I told her about some of the less funny, and pleasant, times I had, she merely nodded along, a sour look on her face. If I didn’t already have my suspicions, I’d have found that a little off, but now I just added it to the pile.

I had less to say about my time actually living here. Lyra didn’t seem very interested in my agrarian lifestyle, though I was heartened to at least see her peering at my book collection. I also didn’t bother to explain my life before, on Earth, not only because I didn’t want to chance Celestia getting wind of me telling random people about dimensional flappery – apparently it was a sore topic for her, as well as a matter of national security – but also because I didn’t think she’d believe me if I went for broke. Not to mention that was mostly irrelevant to me by now anyway. She never asked, at any rate.

A few moments of silence passed when I finished my tales. Lyra was nodding at something or another I said earlier, to herself, though I couldn’t really tell what for. I leaned back in my couch to ease the growing pain in my lower back, and turned the proverbial tables back on her. “So, Lyra. I’ve spilled all my beans to ya. Tell me about yourself.”

She didn’t expect that one. “Me?” she asked, pointing a hoof to herself to confirm. When I nodded, she dropped it with a look of alarm. “Er, okay… what would you like to know?”

“Where did you grow up?”

“Canterlot,” she immediately returned, to my surprise.

“Really? I’d have thought… well, don’t take this the wrong way, but you seem… not a lot like the usual Canterlot crowd.”

Lyra iced over. “That was why I left.” The way she said that made it very clear to me that pursuing this topic was a poor choice. I wisely decided to leave it alone.

“Right… wait, hang on. How come you didn’t know what I was? Like I said, Canterlot was crazy about me while I was there. Didn’t you read the Canterer’s expose on me?”

“No,” she said. “I had already long since moved on by that point. I believe… two years ago. I believe I was in San Palomino then.”

“San Palomino…?” That was a massive desert far past Los Pegasus, down south. For all intents and purposes, it was considered a dead zone, not officially regarded as part of Equestria except for some beyond-hardy ponies eking out a life in tiny oases, many of them still within sight of Los Pegasus. No pony had ever dared to find out what was on the other side of it, to my knowledge. “Wait, when exactly did you leave Canterlot?”

She hesitated, then, shooting me a nervous look before finally, almost grudgingly, giving her answer. “Nine years ago.”

“Ni-!” Another piece of this mare’s puzzle had found its way to me. “Nine years! You… don’t tell me you were…” I shook my head in disbelief, helping to clear my mind. “Were you… homeless, for that entire time?”

Lyra hung her head in defeat. “...Yes,” she exhaled.

I could only stare. That certainly explained a few things, yes indeed. This pony didn’t act much like she grew up in Canterlot, the notoriously stuck-up and pretentious capital of the pony world, a ten minute walk away from a literal physical goddess. Lyra seemed to me to be more… well, more like a human, really. An awful lot like me, when I was younger, as a matter of fact. Small wonder, then, why my heart bled for her so easily.

“...Right,” was the only thing that could come out of me, several seconds later. I had to pause and collect myself before I could try again. “I… I’m sorry.” Yet another pause came over us, letting me know a change in topic was called for. “Well, uh… what about before you left? You grew up there, right? How was that?”

That seemed to do the trick, at least a little; though Lyra still didn’t look too great, she at least started talking again. “That was better, at least. I was born into… a wealthy family, which was nice. I managed to get a scholarship into Celestia’s school – not for magic,” she clarified, seeing my uncomprehension on full display. “I… I had a private tutor, there, but I also got a place in their music program, for about a year. Then...” she trailed off, seemingly clamming up. I wasn’t going to pry; something else caught my attention.

“You were a musician?”

“I am one,” she corrected, rather sharply. I raised my hands in mock-surrender. “My apologies, I did not mean to snap, but it is something I feel strongly about.” She raised herself in her seat and thrust her flank in my direction – which made me quickly avert my eyes. “...What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” I retorted, my voice high and sharp.

“I’m… showing you my cutie mark?” Lyra sounded genuinely confused.

Oh. That’d explain it.

Sure enough, there was a tattoo stencilled on her rear, depicting what looked like a harp-type instrument – oh, right, a lyre. Of course that’s what it would be. Fuckin’ ponies, man.

“Oh, I see!” The realisation dawned on me far too late to save me the embarrassment. “...So music is your special talent, right?”

“That’s right,” she said, mercifully ignoring my apparent faux-pas. “That music program is where I got it from, actually. About… about nine months in...”

“Hmm,” I hummed, forcing her attention back on me just in time to stop her from spiralling down into herself, on whatever emotional roller-coaster she was on. “So that’s how you got by for nine years on your own? As a sort of travelling busker, or bard?”

“...Eight years, actually,” she said, disturbed. “How did you know?”

“Lucky guess,” I smirked. “No, but really, it’s a bit of a stereotype back where I’m from, getting money practically thrown at street performers. At least as far as I remember things...” My mind caught a snag on what Lyra had said. “You said eight years? Why not nine?”

“Did you see my lyre when I knocked on your door?”

“...No?”

“Precisely.”

It took me a minute to get, but… “Oh. I see.” I swallowed heavily. “That must have been tough. Huh, no wonder you tried your luck with me.” Lyra nodded in agreement. “What happened to it?”

“I went to sleep with it one night, and I woke up the next morning without it,” she said, matter-of-factly but still tinged with sorrow.

I rubbed at my eyes, at a sudden loss for what to say. The action jostled my glasses, so I had to push them back up my nose. Lyra caught wind, and tilted her head. “Why do you wear those?”

“Because I need them to see better?” I was at a loss. Even in Canterlot, no-one had asked anything like that. “Don’t… ponies wear glasses, too?”

Lyra flushed, her cheeks turning red through the minty-green of her fur… somehow. “Well, yeah, but… you’re an alien. Why would aliens need to wear glasses?”

I snorted, but a thought hit me that stopped it short of a full laugh. “Hmh. I guess we aren’t as alien as we might first look to each other.”

“I suppose not.” Yet another silence developed. This stop-and-start conversation was quite typical of my usual kind of small talk, so I didn’t pay it any mind. I was perfectly content to sit and ponder, until another question hit up my brain. Or my partner’s, as the case may be – and as it was now. “I have a second question,” she said. “How did you manage to convince Blueblood to join you? I was under the impression that he was infamous for his, ah… sophistication.” Her tone made clear her true meaning of the word.

“It’s his job now,” I said. “Celestia appointed him as the Equestrian ambassador, so he’s here to stay.”

“Ambassador?” she parroted. “For what?”

“For the Free State.”

“Free State?”

I pinched my nose, irritated. “Yes. Celestia gave me some land as a joke and decreed me a sovereign ruler, in a letter. She even sent me all the legalese to prove it for real, not to mention Blueballs’ job here. In theory, what I say in the White Tail Woods, goes. Though, of course, right now it’s a legal fiction at best.”

“Wait!” Apparently, something I had said proved to be objectionable to her, judging by the way she sprung up in her seat in alarm. “You mean you actually meant it when you gave me citizenship? And called yourself Overlord?”

“Well...” My hesitation, coupled by my indecisive swaying of the head, took the wind out of her sails. “I mean, in theory, yes. In practice, though, I suspect if I piss off the Princess badly enough, I’ll be off to the dungeons, same as any other Equestrian. Still, though, I don’t see what she’d find so offensive about giving a pony a place to live, after everything you’ve gone through.”

And then, I was taken by surprise, as Lyra leapt off her chair to land in front of my feet, prostrating herself before me in much the same manner as a condemned man might to a king. “Overlord, I do severely apologise for my misconduct in your presence. Please-”

I had to cut her off, before she got too far. “Er, whoa, Lyra, calm yourself! Easy!” Mercifully, the cowering stopped. “Erm, rise? Please?” She obeyed. “Really, just calm down. I’m not gonna take offense.” I had to restrain myself from trying to pet her, I really did. Those eyes, man, there was something about them that I just couldn’t put my finger on. “Really, why are you ponies so quick to bow before me, anyway? Just because I was given a fancy title for no good reason?”

“I was raised to show deference to my social superiors,” she answered, almost inaudible with her head turned downwards, almost pointing at me with her horn. “I renounced my station when I left.”

“Hey.” I pushed her chin up with a hand, forcing her to look at me. I stared into her eyes, hand still on her chin, until she returned my gaze. “I don’t accept your deference to me. I’m no more or less special, or unique, or… or important, than you are. We’re both the same, deep down, anyway; we’re both just people. People who want to be happy and live good lives. I’m no superior to you.”

“How can you say that, Overlord?” Her tone was quite accusatory. I don’t think she believes me, my mind helpfully supplied to me. “You were given a sovereignty by Princess Celestia herself! How can you possibly claim to be exactly equivalent to vagrant scum?”

I gave her a pitying stare. “Three things, Lyra. One, is that you’re not ‘vagrant scum’ any longer, and God willing you never will be again. Understand?” An impromptu staring contest developed, which I quickly won when Lyra eventually acknowledged my words. "Second, is that Overlord, right now, is an empty title. I'm Supreme Overlord of a forest and a shack, at this moment.

“The third… Lyra,” I said, almost crooning her name, as if I was praying under my breath, invoking the name of some ancient deity. “You have value. More than you might know, even. You’re a musician, for one thing – hell, it’s your mark, for crying out loud! That’s one thing you’ve got over me; I was never for it, myself. And hey,” I dropped my voice to a low whisper, forcing her to lean closer to hear me. “This might not make sense, and it might not sound kind, but what you’ve gone through has made you strong. It’s made you stronger than me, in fact. I know, factually, I could not have gone through what you have, and come out sane on the other side. I’d have shattered inside a year. But you didn’t, and you’re here now, nine years later, and I promise you, that takes no small amount of strength. Of will, of mind, of body, you name it.

“So yes. That’s why I don’t see myself as superior to you, and that’s why I don’t want you to see me as superior to you.”

Lyra was stunned into silence – eyes wide, mouth vaguely open, the classic sight of incredulous disbelief. Even her ears were twitching. This time, I couldn’t resist reaching over to scratch behind them – which brought her out of her spell, shutting her eyes and leaning her head into my palm, just like she had done the first time, last night. Ponies loved scritches, apparently.

Lyra gave a hum of contentment. “...I cannot accept that answer, sire.” And just as last time, words now began to pour from her like water from a broken tap. "You are my superior. You gave a stranger a place to live, at your own expense, without knowing even the first thing about me. I-"

"Any person with even half an ounce of empathy would have done the same. I don't for a second believe that you wouldn't have done so for me, if our roles were reversed."

Lyra sagged against me. "I'm... I'm glad you think so, sire."

I exhaled, and smiled down at her. “Lyra?”

“Yes?”

“My friends call me Adam.”

Her eyes snapped open again, but shortly settled back down, instead letting a soft smile grace her features. “Okay... I think... I think I'll work on that." Her eyes fluttered open briefly, as if trying to blink sleep out of her eyes. Her smile, impossibly, became even warmer. "Adam.”

There we go, was all I could think, as Lyra clambered onto the couch at my behest, lying down next to me and settling her head down on her forelegs, me still petting her all the while. Dear Princess Celestia, today I made a new friend…

4. Sprouting Roots II – Charting a Course

"It's Construct, here to give you my report."

Those words accompanied the knock on the door to my study. I had spent most of the day here so far, after my talk with Lyra, out of having literally nothing better to do. Lyra had dozed off after about twenty pages of one of my books, still on the couch. Neither Blueblood nor any of the other ponies milling about my house had asked to see me either. I had mostly busied myself with meaningless busywork, planning out things like government structure, national symbols, things like that – things that wouldn't become relevant until much, much later. If, indeed, ever at all. I quietly hoped they would, though, that this whole thing wouldn't end up just falling through.

"Come in." Fortunately, Construct at least seemed to be willing to contribute, even if she was bought and paid for by the Diarchy to do so – which, now that I seriously thought about it, began to smell a little fishy. Carriages weren't much faster than I was on foot, and I knew how long it took me to get from here to Canterlot by walking – about eight days. Accounting for the speed, and for those pulling to take shifts, that would cut travel time down to about four days, or three with lucky weather, or pegasi.

That left only one or two days for Celestia to organise all this business, with Construct's company and sending Blueblood off. In other words, a considerable investment, since she was also a head of government and had an enormous amount of other duties because of it. I hoped for her sake, she took a sick day off or something to do it, or else Equestria might have ground to a halt for the duration, just for the sake of a joke. Although, I supposed, it could hardly be called a simple joke at this point...

The door creaked open, putting my train of thought on hold. Construct shuffled in, saddlebags on her back obscuring her wings. I set my papers down on the desk and turned my chair around to face her.

"One second, let me get my documentation out..." said Construct, setting her bags down and opening them with her hooves. She took a while to find what she needed, eventually pulling a folder out with her teeth. She then turned to me and thrust her head forward. "Take this, please," came a slightly muffled call.

I dutifully obeyed, opening it up immediately and pulling the first sheet out. "So what have you got for me?"

"Plan of action for general habitation," came the reply. Sure enough, the heading on the sheet said the same. I read along for the rest of the document as she spoke. "Included is housing, disease and health, food and water supply, weather control, predator pacification, and general infrastructure."

I nodded along. "And you expect this to take... only a year?" I read off. That seemed... optimistic.

"A generous estimate, admittedly. Normally a project like this, settling a new area, takes at least twice that, sometimes thrice."

That didn't exactly inspire confidence, I considered. "So why the crunch? Doesn't that imply you're gonna slapdash it to fit your time constraint?"

"No, sir," she rebuffed. "Some of the toughest work has already been done – by you." Oh, right. Of course, my crop field. It was already large enough to feed, by my reckoning, about two dozen ponies, depending on their tribe. I was worth roughly two earth ponies, who were generally the most voracious. Unicorns, oddly, were the least. The difference didn't amount to much, overall, but sometimes it could make the difference between full stomachs and a bail-out from the Diarchy. Practically all its overflow went to the still, and thus to my wallet. Those days, most likely, were going to end soon. "You've already set up a crop farm, which massively simplifies things, and predator pacification is largely redundant in this area. Housing, also, is less of a problem since your cabin already being here means we can skip some of the more tedious preparation."

I shuffled the papers, looking for those sections. Food, as she said, was short, only a page. Housing was the next biggest, at three-and-a-half. Predators, I noted, got only a single paragraph. And to think, the first time I got here, my mind was consumed by horror stories out of the Everfree. It took seven months of wandering the forest with a knife before I realised the biggest thing I'd seen in that time was a few snakes. It was nice to have confirmation, in essence, that the Everfree was more or less just an outlier.

"I see, I see," I muttered. "Alright, let's go through it step-by-step. Not like I've got anything else to do today."

"Can do," she replied, not even a trace of disappointment in her voice. Truly, a consummate professional. "Where would you like to start?"

"Let's go with weather," I said. "The concept is still... a little foreign, to me."

That was news to her. "Really?"

I nodded. "Yeah. No weather schedules here, ever since I showed up." I smirked as a memory popped up. "Let me tell you, the first time I saw a rainstorm in Canterlot show up the minute it was forecast... You just didn't get that sort of thing back home, believe you me."

"Did you not?" she asked. "Is all weather uncontrolled where you come from?"

"That's right. We do our best to keep up with it, make no mistake, but generally our forecasts go only about a week or so deep before they become too inaccurate to use. And even then, it's not a sure thing whether or not it will actually rain, or storm, or whatever, when it says it will. Though if we'd somehow have had the ability to control the weather, we probably would have done. It would have just been too useful not to do."

"I see. Well, in truth, we won't really be able to work on weather control until the settlement attracts some weather pegasi. Without them, all we can really do is weather-proof every structure we do work on, or else set up some prohibitively expensive thaumaturgical equipment to do it automatically, with less efficiency."

"Yeah, I think I'll be fine until pegasi," I dismissed. I'd been used to more-or-less random weather for practically my entire life. It wasn't really a problem. "How about disease?"

A pause came before she continued. "Disease eradication is one of the more intensive tasks. Initially, a team of unicorns will scout the area, and any nearby locations of interest, to catalogue any infectious disease that might be present nearby. Once that's done, at least one medical specialist will be invited to the settlement, with enough supplies to deal with any reasonable medical emergency that might occur for about two years. Any disease found that we've catalogued before, they'll have vaccinations ready for. Otherwise, we'll send a report back to Medical, and they'll come up with cures, treatments, and so on, for anything new we've found."

"Inviting a medical specialist? As in, permanently, to reside here?"

"Correct."

That sounded... off. "Aren't medical personnel incredibly valuable? Why would you shunt them off to some tiny hamlet when they'd be more useful back home?"

"It's a voluntary position," she explained. "Anyone who applies for it is made fully aware of what they're signing up for. In addition, once the settlement trains its own doctors, or nurses, they're free to return back to their original residence. And yes, before you ask, they are fully recompensed for it all."

Okay, that made sense at least. One more thing was on my mind, however... "This is sovereign territory, though. Of the Free State, remember? Aren't you concerned you're essentially sending Equestrian citizens abroad, and highly skilled ones at that, for an indeterminate amount of time?"

"I'm afraid that's beyond my pay rate," she said. "All I know is that it's all supposedly been taken into consideration. I'm sure you'll have final say on whether any foreign citizens are allowed to reside here."

"Damn straight." This ain't no colonial possession. Me and mine bow to no one. "Alrighty then, and what do you mean by 'general infrastructure?'"

"Transportation and resource extraction," she replied. I waited for more, but in vain.

"That's it?" I eventually asked. "Roads and mines?"

"There's more to it than that, but those are the two main points to it. Depending on the location, there would be more to consider, like seaports, fisheries, tunnels, and so on. However, since we're inland, and in a very flat area, little of that is relevant.

"Transportation covers roads, yes, but also railroads and air lanes – for pegasi and flight carriages – as well as traffic control. And resource extraction covers a wide variety of things – here, I suspect it'll mostly be agriculture and lumber. Nothing major showed up in our geological surveys."

"Agriculture? Isn't that covered by food?"

"Not if you're growing cotton," she explained. I just about smacked myself in the face. Right. Not every plant that grows can be drunk, you idiot. "Again, a lot of things are covered. Cotton, animal feed, dyes, and so on."

"This all seems terribly extensive for a tiny village," I said, confused.

"...Is that as far as you're going to take your Free State?" Her tone was pointed.

I had to admit, she had a point there. I did want my state to grow, and be powerful. How else could I start helping those who need it? How else could I take in the yearning, the poor and huddled masses? I wasn't going to be content with simply dumping them in a slum and patting myself on the back. No chance.

All the same, though, she didn't really answer my question. "And what if it is? What if it ends up that way?"

"...That's not what I was briefed for, then," she said.

Another non-answer. This one, though, told me plenty all by itself. She'd been told to make this place scalable – that is, build it with expansion in mind. I didn't know the exact extent of it, but I was pretty sure only one person could have made such an assumption. Construct's orders came straight from the top. Yet another helping hand from Mummy Dearest.

"...Right," I muttered, making a note of it. "Fine then. For completeness' sake: food?"

"Food will be easy. As I said, you've already proven it's possible, and safe. All that's necessary is to expand it for it to be capable of sustaining the population."

"Which would be?"

"Settlements are required by law to be able to sustain a minimum of one-hundred-and-twenty percent of their theoretical maximum population. For this project, the endpoint is a population of about three hundred, so a farm capable of feeding an average of three-hundred and sixty is the minimum. That comes out to about nineteen more of your... crop fields, by my estimate."

Now that was an eye-raising statement. My plot of land was by no means small; harvests were frequent, sometimes even during the winter, which definitely helped shrink it, but working on it was usually a day-long affair nevertheless. Nineteen more... that was a pretty tough workload. At least, it would be without any help, which hopefully would not end up as the case.

"Piece of cake," I snarked. "And finally, housing? I assume your tents aren't what you're going for?"

"Of course not," she retorted, offended. "We've got enough materials on hand to build... three more houses, which we'll then use as barracks for the rest of the project. For more, we'll either have to rely on shipments, or, with your permission, local resources. We've already got enough advanced components for the whole settlement, so all we really need is thatch and lumber."

"Sure," I waved. "Not like I was gonna do anything with it." Was there anything else I was missing...? Shuffling my papers revealed nothing I'd forgotten. I could've sworn... oh, yes. "Ah, what about water?"

"A central water supply will be installed for the settlement. It's usually a well, or if there's a river nearby we draw from that. Every home will need a connection."

"Naturally." Sweet. Finally I'll be able to savour the luxury of a good, long shower. No more collecting rainwater for my baths! And certainly no more jars of drinking water. "Well, that clears everything up by my count." I finally released the papers from my grasp, sticking them gently back onto my desk. "Everything looks to be in order. I guess I officially give you my permission to go ahead with it."

"Thank you, sir," she said. "We'll begin work immediately. I'll get updates to you as they come." About-facing smartly, she made her way out of the room, taking her bags with her, letting me turn back to my desk. I heard the door close behind me with a click.

I shuffled Construct's papers off to a corner, instead returning my attention to the chicken-scrawl parchments littering the front and centre of the table. Most of them contained little of note, mostly just jotting my thoughts down as they came to me, and many were about topics that were more-or-less worthless at this point of development. A few, though, were set aside as important.

The one with the biggest heading was straight on top, Population Growth. I'd been staring at this bloody piece of paper for hours by now, wracking my brain for ideas on how to actually get people to come and live here. The best two ideas I'd come up with so far were to ask ol' Celly for help, as she seemed so willing to do for me so far, or if that fails, try putting an ad in a Classified section of one of the papers. I'd come up with that mostly as a joke (Wanted: thirty ponies and an airship, for elaborate practical joke), but I soon realised it might actually have worked. Somewhat, at least.

The first option was looking increasingly distasteful, the more I thought about it. Celestia had already given me everything I was currently working with. The nation, the title, and now the infrastructure. I supposed that the next logical step for her would be to also give me the citizens, and send me on my merry way. So much for building it from scratch, I mused, with only some bitterness. Though in fairness, I couldn't reasonably have expected myself to literally build an entire nation from jack-shit, all on my own. I could barely assemble furniture, much less a two-story house.

But to literally transplant Equestrian citizens to live here... well, that'd defeat the entire point, wouldn't it? It might as well have just been called Free-State-ville, settlement of Equestria near the White Tail Woods, by that point. On the other hand, I mused, if not Equestrians, then who else? Griffons? Minotaurs? Dragons?

No, no. It was gonna be ponies. But, I resolved, I was gonna do it my way. Even if it meant something as silly as putting out ads in a newspaper.

Oh, before I forget... I made sure to write down a note to myself, reminding myself to write a letter to Celestia to give her my thanks and tell her to back off a little bit. Diplomatically, of course; no reason not to, after all, with Blueblood ostensibly acting as the bridge between us two.

Sidling the note away, I turned my attention to some of the less-critical sheets. A few weeks ago, when I first read that griffon treatise, I'd gone to the effort of identifying the government structures of all the major nations on Equus, or at least the ones which I knew about myself, and drawing up organisational charts of them. It was about half-and-half between a genuine exercise in statesmanship and organisation, and me pissing about on a cold, wet day, not having anything else to work on.

The Equestrian one was the largest, of course, since it was essentially the most functional state on the continent, and the one I knew the most about. Celestia and Luna were at the top, delegating some of their responsibility down to the various bureaus and chancelleries – mainly Affairs of the Interior, which covered most of what they didn't want to have to deal with themselves. The Captain of the Guard was the de facto commander-in-chief of the armed forces, those being the Royal Guard and bugger-all else. Foreign Affairs was... distressingly miniscule. I didn't know exactly who was in charge of them, but I supposed Blueblood was seconded to them now. Good for him, I thought – he didn't actually have any power himself, despite being a Prince. And of course, Day Court, and its nightly counterpart, provided the connection between the government and the citizenry.

The dragon lands, interestingly, were the next lot I knew the most about, though it was also the shortest: essentially, what the Dragon Lord said, went. I reckoned giant, fire-breathing lizards didn't much care for official, pen-and-paper bureaucracy.

The griffons... were a bit of a shambles. Allegedly, their big bad king went missing a few hundred years back, along with some magical macguffin, and they'd been in the shitter ever since. Ever since then, there'd been a metric ton of regencies, emergency councils, provisional governments, etc. etc. None of them ever stuck around for longer than fifteen years. It was, in essence, a failed state. Interestingly, though, the griffons themselves didn't seem to mind too much. It was my suspicion that either they had inured themselves to their horrid state of affairs, or else had simply elected to ignore the central government of the hour in favour of village communes, or some such thing. I'd never been, myself, so I couldn't tell.

Minoa, home of the minotaurs, was... less clear cut. Very little about them was known, save for their alleged legendary craftsmanship. I had just about figured out that they ran some sort of elective monarchy system, and that was it. I hadn't ever even seen one in person, not even in Canterlot.

I neglected to draw up charts for the zebras, or any other species, because I didn't even know the first thing about any of them.

And then, after all that was done, I decided to try drawing up some of my own. (The rain still hadn't let up, even into the following morning, so I continued to have nothing else to do.) I had tried a few different systems; feudalism, parliamentary republic, dictatorship, direct democracy, and so on. None of them were terribly good, in my opinion. I'd mostly zoned out by that point anyway.

But now, they had taken on a disconcerting importance. After all, if this whole shebang was gonna pan out, I was going to need to enforce some kind of rule, beyond 'just do as I say.' I didn't much feel like being a tyrant, to be honest; not just because of my own personal sense of morality and justice and shit, but also because running a country single-handedly sounded like way too much work to handle. Delegation was an invaluable skill to have.

So, with that in mind, I'd drawn up a provisional government organisational outline for the Free State. Provisional, mind you, since it was going to be a long time before I'd even need to implement it, which at least gave me some wiggle room to change things if they wouldn't work. Not to mention that it wasn't strictly finished yet. For now, of course, I'd be perfectly fine relying on both having technically received my title from the Crown, and the 'I got here first' mentality.

Right now, it was a very strange mix, best summed up as 'elective presidential bureaucracy.' I couldn't stand being called Supreme Overlord with all seriousness, so instead I had changed it to a far more benign 'First Minister.' It might not have struck fear into the hearts of my enemies, but it was functional and descriptive, and didn't carry nearly as many undertones of tyrannical evil. The deputy, of course, was Second Minister, chosen by appointment. The only de facto role they had was government continuation.

Then, right below that, was a whole bunch of – you guessed it – ministries. The big four were Domestic Affairs, Foreign Affairs, Treasury, and Defense, which all had a whole bunch of under-secretaries seconded to them with more specific roles, like transport, healthcare, justice etc. for Domestic. As a matter of fact, they were the only four 'ministries' I thought up – everything else I came up with fit neatly into at least one of them, or else was too niche or entirely pointless to make into a full ministry. Each would be headed by their own ministers.

I would really have preferred a more straight-forward parliamentary democracy, in the style of the Commonwealth nations back home, but I didn't think a population of a few hundred would warrant one. This system was the best I could come up with in the meantime.

It was all terribly simplistic, compared to what it would have been like back home, and certainly simpler than Equestria's Diarchy system. Even as terminally bored as I was those few weeks ago, I couldn't bring myself to draft an entire constitution whole-cloth. Most likely, though, I was going to have to at some point. No civilisation got by for long without a criminal code, after all.

The rest of what I had worked on was miscellaneous national composition. The name was the first thing I wanted to change – Awesome Humanity was far too stupid to keep, as badly as I might have wanted to. Honestly, I was just fine with simply 'The Free State,' short and snappy. Maybe tack on 'of the White Tail Woods' at the end, since that was what the vast majority of its territory consisted of. The flag would stay the same red-white-red, too – the very same one that had actually kicked this whole thing off. Language, meh. English – or Ponish, as these idiots called it – was just fine by me. Culture...

That was largely going to depend on who actually bothered to settle down here.

Personally, I was just fine with allowing whoever, as long as they didn't make any trouble here. Especially those who didn't have anywhere else to go, or were on the run or persecuted or what have you – classic beacon of liberty shtick. Ponies, griffins, minotaurs, dragons, diamond dogs... meh. As long as they were willing to live in peace.

One final sheet of paper caught my eye, stuffed under a shaggy-looking coat of arms design and a map of the area. I gingerly picked it out from under all the debris, transfixed. It was divided into two columns, lengthways. The first column was titled What I Want.

The question forced itself into my mind. What do I want out of this? It was one I hadn't really, seriously considered yet; the column still stood empty. I had accepted Lyra and Blueblood, and Construct, more or less on a whim, though altruistic the reasons for the former may have been. Now, I had essentially just taken my first steps to making this nation a reality... and the question of 'what for' just wouldn't leave. What do I want out of this?

The first answer that came to mind was I want to help people. Nebulous, perhaps, but still a starting point.

Which? the voice in my mind continued. Who exactly are you going to help?

The answer was pretty obvious, thought I. Precisely everyone who needed help, and who wanted it. That was who.

And how are you going to tell who needs and wants help?

...I'm sure I'll figure it out?

And how many will you, hmm? In fact, let's go one step further: how many can you help, before you deplete yourself?

Evidently, I hadn't exactly thought this through.

The question that still hadn't been asked, I noticed, was how. Worrying about how many, and when, and which, was pointless, unless I knew exactly what I was working with in the first place. The second column now dominated my attention: What I Have.

To my name, as matters stood now, I had a house, an enormous chunk of land, a worthless title, two thousand and three hundred bits, and a liqueur collection that was worth, at best, maybe twice that.

Right at this moment, I could give a few ponies a place to stay, and maybe twenty ponies food, and that was it. In fact, I'd already made a start of it, with Lyra. Enough of a proof of concept, I supposed... and then, of course, Construct came to mind. Of course. I snatched her report out from... wherever I'd stuffed it. Christ, but I needed to tidy my study every now and then.

Housing: end goal of a hundred houses, each with a maximum occupancy of four, two adults and two foals. Further expansion at settlement discretion. That's four hundred ponies without homes I can accommodate... eventually. More, even, once I get some builders...

Food: enough for three hundred and sixty ponies, minimum; facilitate further expansion regardless of majority pony tribe. Oh good, we can even pull in pegasi to work the fields. Three hundred sixty ponies going hungry no longer.

General infrastructure: resources. Mainly lumber, soil quality to be determined, assumed average – permitting cotton, hay, antimony bush, crimson rose, fool's lion, witch's ear. Minimal mineral resources, composition: nickel, tin, sulphur. Don't bother sending pone to go mine, grow some flowers instead. Note to self; find out what the fuck those wack plants are, ASAP.

Health: general medical specialist. Local area qualities permit on-site medicine procurement – wait, seriously? We... can grow our own bandages, or morphine, or something? I really should have read this before Construct walked out... - minimal off-site supply required. Medical specialist to remain until local replacement is procured, by training replacement or alternate means. Give us your sick, and we will care for them. Just... an indeterminate number of 'them.'

So, that was it. Having reached the end of the document, I tossed it back onto the desk. That's... well, we'll be able to house four hundred, and feed three hundred sixty... before we run out of resources. The realisation struck me like a bolt of lightning. Of course! With that many ponies here, we'll suddenly have a workforce on our hands! A few transplants are bound to have some skill in construction, or farming, or... or not...? What'd those kinds of people be doing coming to me?

Ignorance really was bliss. With one burning question answered, eleven more took their place, each more red-hot than the last, and each more difficult to answer. How would I attract skilled workers who are also downtrodden? How could I teach those who aren't, and don't have it as a talent? How can I convince those kinds of people to cooperate with me, and not just suck me dry until nothing's left? How can I trust anyone I let in to not abuse that trust? How... how... how...?

How?

...Fuck it. I'm overthinking this all. I shoved all my papers and parchments off my desk, shunting them off into drawers (though taking enough time to organise them sensibly), and abruptly stood up from my chair, sending it clattering to the ground. In the end, my most workable strategy was the same as it always had been, and always would be: to take things as they came to me, and if anything unexpected came up, improvise. It got me though school, through college, through work, and through a dimensional anomaly. It'd get me through this too.

And apparently, I decided to clock out at precisely the right time, as the door to my living room opened before I could even reach for the knob, revealing Lyra.

"Oh, hello, sire." I shook my head at her, disappointed, which she quickly took note of with a bob of her head. "Ah, my apologies... Adam."

"Better," I allowed with a smirk. "Did you want something?"

"I was going to ask you if you wished to join me for dinner," she said. I had to check the clock on the wall: 6:27.

"Oh, yeah," I mumbled. "Wow, I must have spent longer in there than I thought. Yeah, I'm starving."

And just like that, all my thoughts, my worries about the future, my growing misgivings about something I couldn't yet pin down, even the twinges in my back from sitting down all day, it all disappeared behind a veil of food.

Take things as they came to me – that's practically my calling in life. How hard could it possibly be?

5. Sprouting Roots III – Fresh Faces

This time, I didn't focus on the view beyond the window I was technically staring out of, with a cup of coffee settled comfortably in my hand and Lyra devouring some breakfast behind me. I was much too busy staring my mirror image in the eyes this particular morning, thinking about nothing in particular. Snatches of coherent thought and ideas flitted past, most far too quickly to focus on for long.

Lyra was one that didn't. My mint-coloured roommate, thrown to the wolves and forced to make do for almost ten years, before landing on the doorstep of a guy from another universe. It sounded like something out of a terrible sci-fi flick, when I thought about it, and yet here she was. She had taken a liking to carrots, I had noticed, with about half my stock of 'em gone in just a week. I didn't mind, though, since I wasn't a fan myself. Christ, I scoffed to myself. A talking, magical pony that likes carrots, and I'm focusing on the latter.

I had noticed that she had begun, slowly but surely, to come out of her shell somewhat. She spoke louder, for one thing. I found myself not straining to hear her once, just yesterday. Another thing was that she didn't stutter or trail off so much any more, either. She still couldn't bear to start conversations with my actual name, preferring 'sire' for that task, but at least she used it, every now and then. Usually while we were wishing goodnight to each other, come to think of it. Neither was she keen on eye contact, though honestly that was something that would have made me uncomfortable too, so I didn't mind that one so much.

Still, I found it a good sign that she was growing past her timidity. I didn't have a horse in that race, myself, since peace and quiet is nothing to fear, and I just couldn't stand loudmouths of any calibre. It was just that it was a sign that she was moving past whatever trauma she had suffered during her life. Ponies were just too cute to be sad, or broken. Especially her.

Inevitably, my mind turned to other matters. The harvest was just around the corner, by now – mere days away. That was gonna fill my icebox right to the brim – no distillation this time around. My collection was just fine for the time being, and I still wasn't in any great need of manufactured goods. Construct had stepped up to handle the latter, which had definitely thrown me for a loop. It certainly wasn't in her job description. Maybe she did it just to add to the stockpile, just in case.

And of course, that brought my mind kicking and screaming to the Free State. The big reason the still was going unused this time was that I couldn't afford to waste any food any longer. Not with potentially a few extra hundred chucklefucks running around everywhere. Not even with just the two dozen folks building outside. Construct had asked if I'd be willing to lend my plot to them... which hadn't been the best way to broach the subject – and especially not in front of a few of her workers. It had taken her an hour to work up the courage to clarify. I told her I'd get back to her – both times. The workers could just get more carts in, sure, but that’d be slow, and expensive, and would slow everything else down, too; at the same time, relying just on my field would stretch it to its limit. Any more additions would lead to starvation.

I was genuinely committing to this project, the thought of which made me grimace. Oh, son of a bitch, I blinked. Sixty-eight to one, then. It was still incredibly early on, barely out of the pipe dream stage, which made it seem hollow. Like playing at being a king, before one's father gets home and demands finished homework. It all felt so surreal. Not even Celestia humouring me to this extent made it better. I suspected this state of affairs would continue until... I didn't even know. For a while, at least. Maybe until someone built a statue in my honour, or something.

I downed the last of my coffee to wash down that train of thought. No use thinking about it now, worry when it actually starts happening, yeah? The mantra served its purpose, as usual. The cup went in the sink, for later, as I turned to Lyra... staring at me with concern.

"Are you alright, sire? Adam?" She corrected herself, before I even had time to tilt my head. Instead, I smirked knowingly.

"Sure I am," I replied, staring her down. "What makes you ask?"

"Well, you have been staring out of your window for a long time now," she said cautiously.

"Why wouldn't I? It's a good view."

"...If you say so." Lyra apparently decided the conversation was beneath her, reverting to a half-lidded look as she returned to her meal – a salad, of some description. I wasn't entirely sure what was in it. Most of it had already disappeared.

I held in a breath for a moment before exhaling. As usual, little was on the agenda. The only thing I really wanted was to find Blueblood, for him to convey the message I had for Celestia, but I just couldn't find that fucker anywhere. How can he not be here? It's his fucking job! He has literally one job!

My good mood soon ran dry, as I headed outside. In fact, I hadn't seen Blueballs for a while now. Neither, I realised, did I spot his guards in that time. Had he really just up and fucked off? I was going to have to ask Construct to play courier, wasn't I? Not to mention drafting a new letter, asking Celly to get Blueblood on the horn. Swift Wings wasn't due for another week yet, so that was looking pretty likely -

Oh, hang on. I had been standing in front of my open door for a bit; I quickly hurried outside, proper, and shut it behind me. Whoops.

Anyway. It wasn't anything major, more or less just small talk, except for the final paragraph, asking Celestia straight-up exactly what her business was -

Oh for fuck's sake. Shouting from my crop field brought my thought to a screeching halt. That sounded like Construct, actually, squawking like a rusty hinge. Safe to say she's not a hundred percent herself. More shouting convinced me to make my way over, to see what all the fuss was about.

As it turned out, Construct was just at the very edge of the field, kneeling down on all fours, apparently scowling at a piece of dirt on the ground. A few unicorns were surrounding her, each the picture of frustrated disbelief. As I approached, Construct snapped her head my way, rising quickly and almost storming her way over. Oddly, though, she didn’t seem to be that outwardly displeased, even though frustration was practically gushing out from her every pore.

“Inns, excellent. I was just about to call for you. We need your help.”

“What’s up?”

She threw a hoof out to my crops. “How have you grown these here?”

“Erm…?” I frowned, confused. “I, uh… just, sorta, planted them? Is there something wrong with that?”

“They shouldn’t be able to grow here,” she said bluntly. It was safe to say I hadn’t been expecting that one.

“What do you mean?”

“The thaumaturgical field in this area is too inert. Your crops simply shouldn’t be able to grow. There’s not enough magic here for it.”

...Eh? Even after two years of living in a land of talking pastel ponies, their magic still kept throwing me for a loop. “...I don’t suppose I could ask you for a quick rundown on exactly what the hell you’re talking about?”

Construct sighed. One of the unicorns behind her took the opportunity to step forward, with a quick bow of the head. “The capacitance field is a thaumaturgical phenomenon on Equus. It refers to magic that is not currently being used by any living beings, and not trapped in any physical medium – in other words, ‘ambient’ magic. The capacitance field can be thicker or thinner in different places, as well as more active or more inert. Thicker zones have higher capacity, and more active zones have higher throughput.”

The technobabble was surprisingly understandable, in spite of it sounding like it had been recited from a textbook. “Okay, I get it… but how does that relate to growing crops?”

“They need to absorb certain amounts of magic to grow properly,” she explained, still sounding restrained. “If they don’t, they die, or at least stop growing until they do.” She pointed at my field with a hoof again. “Those crops need much more magic than they should be able to get from here. The field here is almost completely inert. The only thing that could normally grow here is… potatoes. Maybe.”

“...And yet?” I prompted, to which Construct nodded jerkily.

“I have no idea how you’ve done this,” she said, turning back to my field. “You… earth ponies wouldn’t be able to do this, not even if they had a cutie mark for it. It’s… just not possible.”

“Well, clearly it is, since...” I gestured vaguely at my lettuce, which by now were about the size of my head. “It’s right in front of you.”

Construct fell silent. The unicorns had since moved off, one towards my wheat section, the rest off somewhere else. I had no idea what to make of this. We both merely stared at the field, watching the stalks and the greens sway in the gentle breeze.

Eventually, she turned back to me, a tired look in her eyes. “You know, if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I’d have scrapped the whole project. No crops means no food, means no ponies.”

“Tough to feed people with thin air,” I agreed. “But I seem to have done alright.”

She shook her head. “I think… We can still do it, theoretically, but… we’d need to pull you in to expand your crop fields yourself. We just can’t grow anything substantial in an inert field zone… but, apparently, you can. And you’re the only one who can.”

I grimaced. “Let’s hope you don’t need magic for the harvest too.” One man does not an agricultural revolution make. I didn’t mind the setup too much; it was mostly just carving a furrow and dropping the seeds in by hand. Harvest was a significantly more involved process. If my field turned into a full-on farm, I was going to need more than just my two hands.

“Oh no, that’s not necessary,” said Construct, to my immeasurable relief. “We’ll just need you… to, ah, show us exactly what you do when you plant your crops.”

I nodded. That was a simple enough process, I figured. “Easy enough, at least. Was that everything?”

“Yeah, for-” Construct began, but before she could get any further, she was interrupted by a pegasus landing mere metres away, drawing her attention. “Ah, Shuffle! What is it?”

“Carts are almost here,” said ‘Shuffle.’ “Saw ‘em just over the horizon, that way.” She pointed towards a hill in the distance. Sure enough, once I focused my vision that way, I could just barely make out the silhouettes of a bunch of carts, making their way down it and towards us. “It’s got stragglers, too.”

That made Construct snap her head back to Shuffle. “Stragglers? What do you mean?”

“Flying carriage, following ‘em,” said Shuffle. “White and gold.”

Ah. Royal carriage. “That’ll probably be Blueblood, then,” I said, making both ponies glance my way. “No wonder I hadn’t seen that fucker anywhere here.”

“Go meet them halfway,” said Construct. “Tell them what’s happening here. Set their cargo down where it needs to go.” Shuffle nodded, and took to the air, heading in the new arrivals’ direction.

“Cargo?” I inquired.

“Building materials,” came the explanation. “It should be enough for a few essentials. Most important among them is the forestry material. If we can get that up, we can start cutting down local trees for our lumber.”

“Excellent.” Looked like things were finally starting to move forward. I cracked a smile at the thought, before I remembered the ‘straggler,’ and my mood quickly turned nasty. “If that’s everything you need from me for now, I ought to go chase down Blueballs.”

“Sure thing,” said Construct, with a faint smirk. “I’ll holler if I need anything from you.”

Giving one final nod to her, I made my way to where Shuffle had flown off to, looking for that white and gold carriage. Blueblood was stereotypical nobility, so I knew he would have insisted on a flying carriage, most likely open-top. The trouble was, I couldn’t see it anywhere. The caravan of carts quickly trundled in my direction, looming larger and larger. Holy cow, those are like horse-drawn lorries! There were only four carts, but each one was almost the size of a bus, and crammed full of beams, planks, metal doohickeys, and God only knew what else. The ponies drawing the carts gave me curt nods, as did some of the passengers. Shuffle was at the front, speaking to someone in the lead cart from the ground.

The procession soon moved past me and towards my cabin proper, leaving me standing in the middle of an empty field. Neither Blueblood nor his carriage were anywhere to be seen. Had Shuffle been mistaken? Where the fuck was the Equestrian ambassador?

…

…There he was. Fucking hell.

The flying carriage finally appeared over the horizon, content to leave its hide-and-seek game, or whatever the fuck it was up to, in the dust, as it began descending, apparently heading straight for me. Not open-top, interesting. Seems he learned his lesson the first time. I resisted the urge to duck for cover as the carriage neatly slowed, then stopped, a fair distance away from me, gently touching down on the ground. The guards eagerly de-latched themselves from their reins.

Blueblood himself finally appeared, gently opening the door and hopping down to the earth beneath. He made a show of dusting himself down, then met my cool gaze with one of his own as he walked up to me.

“Good afternoon, Ambassador Blueblood,” I greeted, clamping down on my irritation. “A pleasure to have you back in the Free State.”

My formal method of address immediately put him on edge. “…Thank you, Overlord.”

I cleared my throat. “Yes… a few things, Ambassador, if you would be so kind as to follow me?” I didn’t wait for him, turning on my heel and marching back to my cabin. Fortunately, he was kind enough to rush to follow me, having to almost canter to keep up with my ridiculous walking pace. I noted his surprise at the hubbub around my house, ponies going this way and that with huge planks of wood balanced on their backs, or in their magic. Oh shit, they actually got a house built! How did I not notice that before? Sure enough, some distance away, closer to the forest, was a brand-new building, sort-of rectangular, with a sloped roof that was distinctly reminiscent of a barn. That’s gonna be their new barracks, then. No wonder all the tents disapp- oh, no, they just moved closer to it. Guess there’s not quite enough floor space for everyone in there, then.

“As you can see, Ambassador, there’ve been a few changes since you’ve… been indisposed.” I stopped just shy of actually entering my house, turning instead to look Blueblood in the eyes. “Firstly, I have a message I’d like for you to convey to Princess Celestia, preferably as soon as possible. Confidential business, I’m sure you can understand. Secondly, it’s First Minister now, rather than Overlord.” Blueblood only now took the opportunity to nod, to confirm to me that he was listening. Nice to know he’s got his priorities straight. “In your absence, I have set up a preliminary governmental structure; I can get the details to you at any point if you desire.” I exhaled forcefully. “Thirdly, Ambassador, I’d thank you kindly for you to inform me when you plan to take leave, so I don’t have to spend five days wondering where the fuck you’ve up and disappeared to. Understood?”

“Yes, First Minister,” he said, blandly.

“Good.” I was about a thousand percent done with this pony’s shit. Fate, though, just couldn’t help but throw another wrench in my plans, the cheeky fucker. “Remember, you are now the most important connection I have to… to… oh Christ, who the fuck is it now?”

In the distance, behind Blueblood, I had spotted another group of ponies, five of them, making their way towards me. These ones, though, didn’t seem like part of any official group – not Construct’s lads, not Crown lads, and certainly not any nasty lads, that might want a piece of me for their dinner. (Not that I’d know anything about the latter group. Ponies, after all.) In fact… as they got closer, they seemed more and more to me like just a group of travellers. Tourists, even.

And then they got even closer.

Their tired stares, low postures… downcast foals.

These were no mere tourists.

Their lead stopped in their tracks, swivelling their head my way. I couldn’t really tell if they were looking at me, specifically, or Blueblood, or at the general state of my property. Either way, it didn’t stop them for long, continuing their path my way.

Closer and closer they got, revealing more to me as they did. Two adults, three foals. Tired? Yep. Lead with saddlebags, nothing else; light on belongings. Mostly earth ponies, second adult is pegasus, one foal is unicorn – genetics at their finest, folks – dull coats, mussed manes. One is wincing with each step on their left foreleg, no visible wounds… A startlingly clear image of Lyra cowering in front of me on my porch struck me with all the force of a runaway freight train. The similarities between how these ponies carried themselves and how Lyra did, merely a week ago, were… depressing.

“Blueblood,” I said, getting his attention. “Recognise ‘em?”

“No,” came the reply.

“Mm. I think I’ll handle them, then. Try not to talk down to them, just in case, yeah?” I sincerely hoped he’d take my advice. If the situation with these people was what I thought was the case, then I couldn’t afford to alienate them. Well, if my species hasn’t done that already, I mean. “Ho, travellers!” I called, once they’d gotten within earshot, waving my arm to them. It perked them up, I saw, picking up their pace, now definitely heading to intercept me.

I met them halfway, just like Blueblood, who decided to stay put – I alone walked up to greet them. Their lead – an earth pony stallion, with a classic brown coat and deep green mane – couldn’t quite decide how to greet me, evaluating me with a long stare. His companions weren’t so restrained; the other adult, a much brighter-coloured mare, looked on me with undisguised apprehension. The foals only stared at me with curiosity.

“Howdy, stranger,” the stallion met, in an earthy, accented, yet viscous baritone that somehow explained so much about himself. “Who might you be?”

“I am First Minister Inns, of the Free State.” His brow quirked. “Yes, you aren’t in Equestria any longer, and yes, it’s a long story. What brings you to my corner of the woods?”

The stallion breathed a sigh of relief – apparently, he’d found what he was looking for. “Thank the Maker. As long as yer not Her Majesty’s Bureau a’the Treasury.”

“Ah ain’t never heard’a this Free State before,” said the mare, in a low tone.

“You probably wouldn’t have,” I explained. “It’s a pretty new thing. It hasn’t been officially announced yet, to my knowledge.” I had to stop, and repeat that to myself in my head. It hasn’t been officially announced yet. That’s… that could be genius. Genius, I say! Gotta remember that.

“…So Ah see.”

“Well, anyhow,” the stallion took over, apparently dismissing whatever concerns the mare might have had. “As it happens, we’re in a bit of trouble, and we could use yer hospitality. At least until we can get ourselves back on our hooves.”

“Of course, of course,” I nodded. “I’d be more than happy to help those in need. Please, follow me.”

I led the troop to my cabin. Blueblood had made himself scarce, but at least his carriage told me he hadn’t fucked off just yet. Christ even knew why he had left in the first place. Probably a spa trip, knowing him. I led the adults in first, followed closely by their foals. I closed the door behind myself. The mare looked all around the hallway, peering into the living room quizzically, but the foals showed little interest, mostly content to hide behind and under their parents. Or whatever they were to them. The stallion soon turned to me, and followed me into my kitchen.

“So, what exactly can I do for you?” I asked, grabbing a mug out from a cupboard, readying yet another cup of coffee for myself. “Please, feel free to take a seat. Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Jus’ water is fine.” He obligingly sat down… on the floor. Sure, close enough. A cup of water soon found its way to him. He drank the whole thing in one go, placing the cup back into my hands. “Thank ya kindly.”

“’Course.” Another cup in the sink, and another coffee in my hands.

The pony broke the silence first, casting a cool gaze upon me. “So… what’s it gonna cost us?”

I took a breath to parse that. “…Cost you for what?”

“Fer you lettin’ us stay here.”

A sip of my drink hid my hesitation. “Let’s start with your name, if it’s all the same to you.”

“…Steady Hooves,” he eventually replied. I couldn’t quite make out the expression he made, saying it. The mare entered then, still followed by the foals. “This is Deft Green, my wife. And our foals.”

“A pleasure,” I said, eyeing the foals staring at me. “What brings you here?”

“…It’s a long story,” he tried.

I had time.

Thus began a recounting of these fine individuals’ lives, or at least all the important bits. They were a pretty stereotypical family, as it turned out, originally from a ways south-east, near Appleloosa. Like me, they were rural folk, living in a homestead a fair distance away from the town. Steady Hooves was a woodcarver by profession, having gotten his cutie mark in it unusually early in his life. His wife was a gardener, but didn’t really do it for a living – only for subsistence (which, for rural folk, might as well have been the same thing). Her cutie mark was something abstract – some kind of knot made of leaves. It was a happy affair, by all accounts… until it wasn’t.

Apparently, the Crown saw some writing on the wall, and decided to squeeze out some extra pennies from folk like Hooves and his lot to help wash it off. He suspected that few got off lightly from it, though he himself was one of the worst affected. I hadn’t heard anything about this until now, so I could only conclude that it was localised to Appleloosa and its neighbourhood.

Wait… what? Apparently I was mistaken – Hooves told me he had been dealing with this crap for years, certainly longer than I’d been here. Only recently had it become intolerable, to the point that he could no longer put bread on the table, and had been forced to move to greener pastures… none of which had any room for him, according to them. He had tried practically everything: Dodge, Baltimare, Manehattan, Trottingham, even a short stint in Canterlot. None of it was any good. He had resolved one more try, living in the… ah, ground-bound community of Los Pegasus, scraping together whatever he could, but before he could get there, he had stumbled onto one of Construct’s caravans, who had pointed them my way and said they’d be welcome to stay for a while.

“…so that’s our story,” finished Hooves, now a cup of tea in front of him on the table, having migrated to an actual chair while telling it. Deft had asked for tea first, which had convinced Hooves to relent as well. She had also asked the foals to run outside to play, or something. I hadn’t heard, but they weren’t here, so whatever.

“...right,” I could only reply. His tale was one hell of a shock to me, in truth. Some small part of me was still idealistic enough to have convinced me that Equestria, with its near-ethereal beauty and outlandish magic, was some kind of utopian paradise, where ponies lived idyllic lives of peace and happiness. Perhaps to be expected, having only Canterlot as a frame of reference for major population centres, I supposed, followed by two years in the countryside with little exposure to others. Or, at least, with normal, average people.

Lyra should have been my first red flag. Perhaps at the time I had been blinded by my heart, bleeding for her, too wrapped up in emotion to consider how she had gotten there. Her story should have tipped me off once and for all, but… I had seemingly just glossed over that. Thus, my conclusions remained blissfully unchallenged.

Now, though, with a second point of data, and hints of many, many more, I was no longer so sure. Years of financial difficulties… that was not something that could really stay a local issue, unless something fucky was going on in Equestria. The thought of these happy-go-lucky ponies, with their immortal, benevolent ruler, in their utopian paradise, being hit with a recession… it was almost farcical. It just could not be reality.

Hooves was a woodcarver. Not a carpenter, which would guarantee a living practically everywhere and always, but a woodcarver – sculptures, figurines, busts, and so on. In other words, a luxury good, and definitely one of the first to be crossed off when pennies need pinching. Perhaps in better times he’d have been rolling in it. Not to mention taxes were usually pretty high up on luxury goods, at least back home – probably it was also the case here. Gardening, too, courtesy of Deft – not farming, not full-on agriculture. Gardening was a supplement, at best, if she even grew food at all, and didn’t just cultivate roses or something – or, rather, flowers ponies couldn’t eat, I reminded myself. Three foals, as well, would be a considerable drain on their pockets.

Yes, that must be it. Lots and lots of little things. It couldn’t possibly have been something as drastic as Diarchy overreach, or even just simple mismanagement. These folk had just gotten an unlucky trough in the economic cycle, and couldn’t afford to ride it out into a boom.

Regardless, though, they were here now.

“So, what now?” asked Hooves. “Are ya gonna let us stay?”

“Of course I am,” I replied. “You think I’d send you packing after you tell me all that?”

“Jus’ like that?” The suspicion was thick indeed.

“Well, if you like.” That threw Hooves for a loop. “I mean, Lyra – that’s my roommate – stays here ‘just like that.’ Hell, I’ve got the food and the room for her, and she’s not much better off than you, so I figured I ought to. And I’ve got… well, I’ve got the food for you, at least. Not sure you’d be terribly happy with sleeping on the floor, unless all five of you can squeeze on the couch-”

“Hold on, mister,” interrupted Hooves, voice somewhere between incredulity and mistrust. “Ya’d be willing to do all that? Jus’ fer us?”

“Yeah,” was my immediate reply.

“...Why?” was all he could muster.

The door to my bedroom opened, making me glance over. Lyra emerged, stopping in her tracks once she saw two new ponies staring at her. Her eyes shifted uneasily my way. “Nice of you to join us, Lyra,” I said. “What have you been doing in there?”

“…Composing,” she muttered. “Si- ah, Adam, who are these ponies?”

“Right,” I clapped. “Lyra, meet Steady Hooves and Deft Green; their three foals are outside. Steady, Deft, this is Lyra.”

The newcomers greeted Lyra politely. She didn’t respond, merely backing into her room and shutting the door. I turned back to my guests, who were now staring at me, bemused. “Don’t mind her, she’s had a rough time. From Canterlot to the streets, don’tcha know.”

“You really let her stay here? Fer nothin’?”

“Yep.”

Now, consternation was the word of the day, the two ponies glancing at each other nervously. “…Nothin’?”

“Yeah, nothing.”

“…Would ya do the same for us?”

“’Course I would.”

The two shared a long look, communicating in that way only spouses could. At least, that was what it looked like to me. Not like I could tell, anyway. Hooves’ face slowly grew with distaste, soon turning back to me. “Ah’m not sure Ah believe ya. There’s gotta be a catch.”

I snorted. “If you want a catch so badly, I can give one to you. How long are you planning to stay here?”

...Probably shouldn’t have phrased it like that. Hooves took a step forward, now in front of his wife, anger clear in his posture. “What do ya mean by that, mister Inns?”

“Come off it,” I waved dismissively. “I didn’t mean it like that. What I mean is, I am, in fact, First Minister of a sovereign state. If you want to stay and make your living here, I can arrange that. If you want a job, I can give one to you, for your room and board. If you’re only staying long enough to get back on your feet, that’s fine too. Once you’re done, you can go.”

His anger drained away. I saw, in both his and his wife’s eyes, some new sparkle, perhaps some newfound respect, perhaps hope for the future. “…Ya can actually let us live here? Put bread on our tables?”

“That’s right,” I confirmed. “In exchange for your citizenship, of course. Assuming you’re staying…?”

A long moment of silence passed. That was, perhaps, my first serious attempt at attracting new citizens; I worried I might have been too blatant in it, putting them off with my seeming eagerness to effectively lord over them. Oh God, please, don’t take it the wrong way, don’t take it the wrong way…

And then, he raised his head, just a touch, and his reticence gave way to an almost overpowering gratitude. “…If ya’ll feed mah colts an’ fillies an’ put a roof over their heads, Ah can work for ya. Maker, Ah’ll follow ya right into Tartarus itself.” He walked up – and offered a hoof. “Ya got yerself a deal.”

I gratefully shook his hoof. “Excellent. Congratulations on your new citizenship, Steady Hooves. And Deft Green, and all your children, of course.” Whew. Damn fine work, Inns. Damn fine. “If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask. I’ve got some notes to take, some ponies to chase down. Feel free to grab something from the icebox. If you need me, I’ll be in my study – through the living room, far end.”

“Thank ya, sir,” said both Hooves and Deft, as I left them behind in the kitchen.

Oh boy, I did it. I had actually convinced somebody to actually stay here, properly, as citizens. Two ponies, three foals, willing to settle… Sitting down at my desk in my study, I began my note-taking, where my mind began to wander.

That’s six ponies living here, having gotten here essentially by sheer luck. Lyra followed a caravan, and Hooves and his were told by one to come here. Word of mouth works wonders. Foals, great. Not too useful, but cute – and, yeah, let’s not throw them onto the streets, or let them starve. Christ. Adults – Hooves is willing to work, at least; not sure about Deft. Earth pony woodcarver…

No. I’m making assumptions. Trust but verify – I ought to have learned by now, not to trust too quickly. Reasonably certain that Hooves and Deft would be loyal, thanks to feeding their kids, but can’t be sure just yet. Start out with something simple – help with the harvest. Excellent: if he steals, bye-bye, if not, we’ll see. If he works well, great. Probably would be more use with that forestry stuff, lumber, etc. He’s got the mark for it, woodcarving isn’t much of a leap to forestry...

A note to Celestia was finished, I’d gotten the registry down (inasmuch as there was a citizen registry, right now), everything that needed updating, was. All that was left was for my mind to wander… and ask itself, if Hooves and Lyra had stumbled by me on accident, how many would make their way here deliberately?

6. Sprouting Roots IV – Fortuitous Interruption

Joy upon joys, harvest time had finally rolled around. The stalks were turgid, the leaves were vibrant, and the berries were huge, all exactly as usual. The sun was shining brightly from right above our heads, with not a cloud in sight, leaving the sky a brilliant blue like an enormous sapphire. Again, as usual.

Less usual was the presence of two new farmhands at my beck and call – Hooves and his wife, digging in with gusto right next to me, coaxing the potatoes out of the earth with experienced hands – hooves, excuse me. My icebox had been moved into position behind us, and was slowly but steadily filling up. Anything that wasn't perishable, like the potatoes in front of us, went instead into baskets and barrels, provided courtesy of Construct.

Hooves and his family had only been here for two days, but I was already convinced of their industriousness. I had only asked for his help today, with the harvest, with the intention of letting him take a day to familiarise himself with things here. Instead, when I came to informing Construct of my next plans, the previous day, I'd found Hooves alongside her, helping set up the lumber mill, doing enough work to count for three ponies. Bloody madman, is what he is. Deft Green, on the other hand, had taken the opportunity to demonstrate her considerable culinary abilities, but had otherwise spent the day doing little.

Speaking of yesterday, I had been quite busy, myself. Construct had seen me demonstrate how I had sown my fields, so that was mostly sorted. I'd caught her muttering something about wonky seeds as I'd done so, which quite effectively prevented her from blowing a gasket when I'd just dropped (or buried) them in the trenches. I still had no idea what was up with that whole business.

Construct was now focusing mostly on her workers' barracks. Already, a second building was finished. A section in it had been cordoned off for Hooves and his, until a proper house could be built for them. I had only counted four tents still standing, which the third should finally fix once and for all. Then, some real work could begin. Health, weather and water were still pretty low on the bucket list, but once we got a decent surplus of food and shelter I was probably going to start focusing on them much more.

The rest of yesterday had been spent at my desk, poring over my notes. Blueblood had sent my letter to Celly, via some kind of magic telegram or something, and I was now awaiting her response. Afterwards, it was mostly just busywork, done so I wouldn't have to scramble to do it later; things like commerce, transport links, some basic emergency plans, and so on.

Today, though, was a day for the field. We'd already gotten all the leafy greens, the radishes and beetroot and strawberries, etc. etc. which had not taken too long. All that was left now was the potatoes... and the grain.

"Ah hav'ta say," said Hooves, not turning at all from his digging. Turns out Appleloosan folk were pretty big on small talk during work. "Ah didn't expect one person ta need so much land fer their food."

"Most of it wasn't for food," I replied. "When I started out here, this field was about a tenth of the size."

"So why'd ya expand it so much?"

I smirked. Whoa there, brain, don't take all those out. "Well, as it turns out, it was a lot easier to build a still than I thought it would be. Just had to figure out how to fill it properly, after that."

"Yer a moonshiner?" Deft turned her head to me in surprise. Hooves was too busy with his work to offer more than a raised eyebrow, though. "An' ya got away with it?"

My turn to raise my brow. "Got away with it?"

"Ya... oh, ya get a permit?"

"Permit?"

"...Ya need ta petition the Crown ta set up a private distillery," said Hooves, flatly.

Oh. "...I didn't know that." Only suspected it. I had, after all, set up the still in the forest, rather than anywhere near my house. Just in case there really was an Equestrian Prohibition. The prices my alcohol usually went for appeared to support that notion: I was able to make a comfortable living doing it, after all. Turns out I could just have asked Celestia nicely. Well, too late now anyway. "I'll just legalise it here, and forget about it." Probably can afford to move it closer, now, too.

One more row of potatoes was clear, only two more to go. I dumped my produce in a basket behind me and scooted forward to the next row. "What made ya move from Canterlot?" asked Deft.

"Bah," I dismissed. "Big city's no place for me. Ten years in a foreign metropolis was more than enough, thank you kindly. Less to worry about, that way. Besides, Canterlot's full of twats anyway."

"Too right," Hooves said immediately. After a short pause, he scooted forward to my level, done with his previous row. "Bunch'a prissy frou-frous, don't know the first thing about a real honest day's work. All they know is fancy titles and posh suits."

"Mmm." Big surprise, the country yokels didn't like the upper class.

"'Least the Princess helps keep'em in line," Deft chimed in, to Hooves' nod.

"As the only one who can, no doubt," I said. The last row of potatoes sat in front of me now, ripe for the taking. I had to savour this as much as I could. "Better than some of the upper classes we had back home, at least."

"Back home?" Both Hooves and Deft echoed. "What d'ya mean?"

"We didn't have any immortal benevolent rulers back home," I spoke, lost in my work. "All we had was good ol' humans. Sometimes we'd get lucky, and get a good, competent guy in charge, only to lose 'em forty years in from disease, or old age, or whatever. Assuming the nobles didn't get sick and off 'em early for someone they could control. We moved past monarchy pretty decisively, because of it." I glanced up at them briefly. "You folk are very lucky you got someone like Celestia at the top, you know." The conversation trailed off after that.

Eventually, we had struggled our way through the entire potato field. I stood up, along Hooves and Deft, and stretched the kinks out of my limbs and back. The containers behind us stood beautifully full. I nodded my approval to myself. "Alright. Only one more fuckin' crop to go." I didn't bother disguising my grimace.

"Yer not a fan of wheat?" asked Hooves, bemused.

"I'm not a fan of having to cut it with safety scissors, no," was my answer. It didn't really help Hooves much, I saw, his confusion only growing wider.

"Scissors?"

"This may come as a surprise to you, Steady Hooves, but the hamlets nearby are terribly possessive of their agricultural equipment." Bitterness dribbled from my mouth like terrible custard. "They wouldn't even take two thousand for a sickle. Greedy buggers, eh? Shame I didn't think to get any from Canterlot before I left. Assuming anyone there would stoop so low as to sell peasant tools, that is."

"Why didn't ya try Los Pegasus?" asked Deft.

"Los Pegasus?" Really? "The famously agricultural pegasi cloud city?"

"Doesn't mean they won't sell it," countered Hooves.

Well, he had me there, I had to admit, though I still shook my head. "Doesn't matter now, anyway," I said. "I've made do without it. Just... really, really slowly. Come on, I'd rather just get this over with."

With crappy scissors in hand, we began clearing the wheat, one torturous group of stalks at a time. Steady and Deft were a huge help, honestly, grabbing about twice as much at a time as I could alone. It was still grim work. My mood was rapidly spinning down the shitter, as the day grew hotter and more humid and the field seemed to stretch on forever, even though I knew it was only about seventy square metres.

Each bushel of wheat was hard-fought. The sun only grew hotter and the air only grew wetter. 'Put yer back into it,' Hooves had told me, which didn't serve as very effective motivation. The stack of bushels' growth became slower and slower.

Two hours in, and I was close to collapse. Deft and Hooves, on the other hand, didn't seem much out of it at all, which only served to touch me off more. We had gotten less than half of the way through.

"Fuck me," I panted, wiping yet more sweat off my forehead. "This shit is killing me, man. Fine fuckin' day for a heatwave, ain't it."

"Believe me, son," said Steady Hooves. "This is nothin' compared to what we had in Appleloosa."

"I'm sure." Jackass. "I'd rather take a surplus of Siberia than tiny Tashkent, any fucking day of the week. Just you wait until you see me running around shirtless in winter, ya smug prat."

"Sire?"

Huh? Apparently Lyra had snuck up behind me while I was busy wringing myself out like a dishcloth. Turning around only revealed her concern to me, evident in her look. "Ah, yeah, what is it, Lyra?"

"It... is getting quite hot outside. Are you sure it isn't best to come back to your work in a few hours' time, when it will be cooler?"

"No can do, Lyra." I stuck a thumb out in Hooves' direction. "Otherwise Captain Pillock over here might upstage me on my own property. Can't have my illustrious reputation ruined by some rural twat, now can I?"

Lyra's face twisted into something I couldn't recognise. "...Are you sure you are well?"

"Fuck no," was my immediate reply. "It's too damn hot out. Didn't stop my parents from chopping firewood, though, and it's not stopping Steady. And it ain't gonna stop me." My traitor body chose that exact moment to fizzle out, my collapse only stopped by Lyra trying to catch me with her aura – which, of course, fizzled out the moment it tried to latch on, leaving me to merely stumble forward, right into her. "Whu-oah!"

"Oof!"

Ouch. Slamming into the ground was an unpleasant experience, no matter which way you try to twist, which is why I was fortunate enough to land on top of Lyra instead; making it only slightly embarrassing instead of also quite painful. It took me a few to realise that Lyra might not have gotten off as lightly as I did. "Oh shit!" I rolled off onto my back as quickly as I could, bumping my arm against one of the baskets as I did.

"...ugh," groaned Lyra, stumbling to her hooves, rubbing at her horn, no longer encumbered by yours truly. "Don't take this the wrong way, sire, but you are much heavier than you look."

"Mister Inns!" Only now did Hooves and Deft decide to rush up to me, looking down on me with concern. "Are ya alright?"

An excellent question, I mused, feeling the first specks of a headache forming. Let's see... spent the last three hours and change working in baking heat, cutting wheat with scissors, severely dehydrated, tired, sleepy, in need of a second coffee, worrying about feeding people who are now my responsibility... nah. Definitely not okay.

"You know what?" I pushed myself up to a sitting position with my elbows. "No, I'm not. I... I could probably use a break." Lyra very helpfully offered herself as an armrest, as I pushed myself into standing against her. "Sorry, Hooves, but I gotta ask you to finish this off for me. I ought to make sure I don't keel over in the next thirty minutes."

"No problem," said Hooves. "Ah'll get this done in a jiffy, an' no mistake. Don't overwork yerself, now, ya hear?"

"Yeah, yeah," I waved off. Don't overwork yourself, he says. Good one. Lyra helped me wobble my way over to my cabin, opening the door and all but shoving me inside and onto my living room couch. A cup of water shortly found its way into my hands, and was quickly emptied again by me. "Thanks, Lyra."

"Of course."

Christ, was I thankful for the temperature regulator gem Celestia had gotten me a year and a half ago. If it wasn't for that, I'd probably have frozen to death in my first winter here. Now, it was keeping my house at a pleasant chill, helping to ward off my heatstroke. Holy shit, but did I hate summertime with a burning passion. Fucking heat, fucking gnats; fucking bullshit...

Lyra carefully trotted right up to me, practically nuzzling the side of my face. "...Why didn't you stop earlier?"

"Mmm?" I hummed, trying to not fall asleep from exhaustion.

"It's the middle of summer, and the weather here is still uncontrolled. Didn't you... I don't want you overworking yourself like that, Adam. You could get sick, or... worse."

"I know that, Ly, but... if it was just me, or maybe just us two, I wouldn't have. I've got more responsibility now, though. You, and Hooves and Deft and their foals... you all depend on me now." Despite my near-delirium, I just kept on pouring my heart out to her. "Hell, with the way things are going, it feels like half of Equestria is gonna depend on me sooner or later. You think I'm gonna let 'em down? Just... let some sunny weather get in the way of me trying to feed and house my subjects? I think not."

"...Ly?"

"Why'd you try to use magic to catch me, anyway? You should have known by now that shit doesn't work on me, right?"

"...I don't believe you've ever made me aware of such, no."

"Hmm...? Oh, right, I guess I didn't, no." I shrugged, half-heartedly. "Well, it doesn't. I've had to replace my icebox five fuckin' times by now, you know? Not touching that bloody cooling gem was probably the most expensive lesson I had to learn here. Thank fuck I learned to wrap my hand in a T-shirt to get around it. You probably don't want me touching your horn, either. Especially if it's glowing."

"Oh." Lyra winced. "So I see. That would... explain it."

"Ain't that the truth." I was already feeling better, after just a few minutes outside the oven outdoors. "Just ask Blueblood, if ya don't believe me. Man, the look on his face..." I chuckled. "Oh, boy. Anyway." I gingerly sat up, wiping the last of the moisture on my face away. "I should probably get back to the wheat. Gotta make sure Hooves is on the up-and-up."

"With respect, sire," Lyra jumped in, pushing me back down to a sitting position the moment I tried to rise. "I really don't think it's a good idea for you to be outside, like this."

"No can do, Ly," I retorted. "This shit needs to be done. I can't just snap my fingers and magic up a banquet hall, ya know. We gotta do it the old-fashioned way."

…

Oh for fuck's-!

"…Ly?" I ventured. "I don't suppose I could ask you to watch over Hooves, then, could I? Maybe… help out with the wheat? Y'know, with that magic of yours?"

"Of course, sire!" Woah, that was genuine excitement in her voice. Heh, she even hopped in place a little. "I'd be happy to help however I can!"

"Thanks, Ly, you're a lifesaver." Right. Magic... of course. Fucking hell, she should have been the first fuckin' person I asked. You're a blithering idiot, Inns. "I think in that case, I'll just... sort of lie down here, until it's not so hot out. Make sure Hooves doesn't run off with anything, yeah? Thank ya kindly."

Lyra had practically pranced her way out to the hallway already, muttering something I didn't quite catch. The door creaked open, and stayed there for a little while before it was shut again.

Right, thought I. Magic probably could just do it all in one go. Conjure up a scythe, and there you go. Assuming one can actually find a unicorn willing to dirty their hooves in the field, naturally. Thank fuck for Lyra, eh.

A throat clearing got my head back into reality. "Excuse me, First Minister? Is this a bad time?" It appeared Blueblood had turned up to the party. I twisted my head again, leering at him from half-lidded eyes.

"Ah, yes, Ambassador. Forgive me, but I always have trouble with the heat. Can't put on extra jumpers in the summer, can ya now. Anyway, what can I do you for?"

"Her Highness, Princess Celestia, has received your message."

"Excellent!" I clapped my hands together in satisfaction. "Have you got her reply?"

"Ah... yes," said Blueblood, filled with hesitation that immediately put me on guard. "She, ah... she wished to give you her reply in person, First Minister. As an, ah... 'official state visit,' as she put it."

"Oh." I was expecting something a little harsher than that, judging by his apprehension. "Well, that's not so bad. When's that happening, then?"

"She has already arrived, First Minister."

"...Oh." Again. "...got a pretty piss-poor sense of timing, then, haven't you, Celly? Couldn't have done this before I had to spend a day on my field, could ya? Bloody horse goddesses... Come on then, Princess, get over here already and give it to me."

Right on cue, Celestia popped up from behind the arch to the hallway. Disappointment was clear as day on her muzzle; even her mane seemed less fluttery in the non-wind that carried it. She squashed it quickly, though, walking up to me and dismissing Blueblood with just a glance, prompting him to skedaddle as fast as he could while still looking unbothered.

"Good day, First Minister Inns. It's a pleasure to finally visit the Free State."

Fortunately, the formalese didn't last long at all. "So how goes your nation building?" asked Celestia, a faint smirk visible behind her usual serenity.

"I think you already know damn well how it's going," I said with distaste. "You bought and paid for most of it, after all."

I was still on the couch, though now sitting properly on it. Celestia had taken the armchair. It was a surprise to see that she actually fit in it. She was kind enough to get me some water, though, when I asked her for some – with her magic, naturally. The small talk was more tedious this time around, probably because of my own bad mood spoiling everything. Everything was worse in the heat, after all.

"Not all of it, I'd say," said Celestia.

"Can't help but feel like it to me. I mean, first this whole thing to begin with. Then Construct and Blueblood. Then Lyra shows up, following the former. And now Steady and his lot, on the advice of the lads working for Construct. Who, might I add, has been bought and paid for, ultimately, by you. So excuse me for thinking that Mummy Dearest is holding my hand so I don't get scared and run off because something I didn't want to do in the first place isn't working."

"In the first place?" inquired Celestia. "So you mean yo-" She cut herself off abruptly, turning a bright shade of pink. "Did... did you just call me 'Mummy Dearest...?'"

Snrk, came a noise out from the bottom of my throat. My mouth curled into a nasty smirk, that tapered away as I spoke. "Sure did. I mean, isn't that essentially... what you are? To Equestria, I mean, not me, that would be absurd. Seriously, though, you really do act like it sometimes. All 'my little ponies' this and 'dear so-and-so' that. I'd bet that you've single-handedly given half your subjects Oedipus complexes just by speaking like you do."

"I... I really sound like that?"

"Oh yeah, all the time." I was having a lot of fun at her expense. No doubt she'd get back at me for it later, though, about six times as spectacularly, natch. Worth it. "Anyway. So I've got six subjects to my name, as it stands. Pretty impressive for... what, two weeks? Housing and forestry is moving forward, too. Shame about the food, though. Apparently I've got to do most of it my own self. Something about inert fields. I'm not entirely sure Construct isn't talking out her arse, in all honesty."

"I... see." Celestia had recovered by now, though I could still see a hint of pink on her. Wow. Gotta remember that one, then. "You said you 'didn't want to do it in the first place,' did you not? And yet, you are still here, as First Minister."

"Yep," I sighed.

"What made you change your mind?"

"You'd have pressed the issue until I gave in." My delivery was raw deadpan. Interestingly, I saw Celestia flinch ever-so-slightly. "Nah, but really. That was all Lyra. You recognise her, by any chance?"

"...No?" Celestia was rather taken aback by the seeming non-sequiteur. "Should I have?"

The question actually made me pause. Should Celestia have recognised Lyra? I mean, it's been nine years by now. "...Hmm. I guess not."

"Why bring it up?"

"Oh," I said, offhandedly. "She used to be from Canterlot, that's all, maybe you’d have known her. Anyway, she just showed up on my doorstep and asked for my help. It might sound a little silly, in hindsight," I freely admitted, a wistful smile on me. "But I realised something, then. Even with my position being mostly a joke on your part, I could still make use of it to do some good. That being, to give a helping hand to those who need it, be it poor, homeless, persecuted, whatever. Even if this whole thing ended up being just a piss in the wind, I could still have changed some lives, ya know?"

The intensity of the stare I was met with when I finished, and looked back up to her, unnerved me greatly, enough to make me physically lean back. I heard an exhale come from her nose, one that sounded an awful lot like disbelief.

"Incredible," she breathed. "You've surpassed my most optimistic expectations, Adam." Oooo-kay? "I would have thought for you to continue treating it as a joke, or to try to renounce your position to the last."

"...Thanks for the vote of confidence, Princess," I snarked.

"I don't mean it like that," she mollified. "I merely didn't expect for you to find a situation where you could actually make use of your power-"

"Okay, now I know you're blowing smoke up my arse. Make use of my power? I bet you sent Lyra to my cabin deliberately, didn't you? All as a secret test of my character, right?"

"Of course not, Adam," she chided. "I am not omniscient, after all. Lyra's decisions were her own to make - as were yours." A smile crossed her face. "I guess humans aren't as bad as you make them out to be, after all."

"Oh piss off. That was years ago already," I grumbled.

"In any case," she continued, not missing a beat. "You have done very well, so far. What are your next steps?"

I raised an eyebrow. "...And you act surprised when I call you 'mummy?'" The returning flush on her face was like fine art to my eyes. "As a matter of fact, I'd quite like to make a speech to Equestria, announcing the Free State's existence to the masses."

"Announcing?" Quite a curious tone was in her voice, one I couldn't identify exactly.

"Yeah." I nodded. "Lyra and Steady got here without even knowing it was a thing here. And, uh, don't take this personally, Princess, but it sounds like Equestria is a little bit on its arse right now. At least, going by what Steady Hooves told me." Celestia actually nodded her agreement with me. That was a little suspect. "That means there's gotta be lots and lots of ponies there who need help. And it's help I can give 'em."

Now, I saw in her some measure of apprehension. "...A noble goal," she began. "But are you sure that this is the right thing to do?"

"Can you help them, then?"

"Are you sure there are really so many in need to warrant doing so?"

That made me narrow my eyes. "...You seem awfully resistant to the idea of helping people, Celestia. I didn't think your reputation was all just a cult of personality..."

"Of course I wish to help my little ponies!" Celestia had raised her voice quite viciously. "Who, exactly, do you take me for, Inns? Perhaps you do not realise that it is not so simple in reality?"

...Hmm. Something was definitely fishy here. "...You're right, I apologise. That was going too far." I stroked my chin, to give the appearance of being deep in thought, but in reality I already knew what I was going to say. Celestia, at least, seemed mollified by my apology, which I took especial note of. "I just... I didn't think you couldn't see the win-win inherent in my plan."

"...What do you mean?" Her tone was carefully neutral.

"I mean, there's a few things that could happen in this situation – none of which come with any negatives for you. Supposing that there are people in need – which I hope I don't have to convince you of, Celestia – announcing it makes the most sense. If I did it myself, best case, a good chunk of your underclass crosses the border and stops being a problem to you, and you can spin that however you like. Worst case, I become a tourist attraction, and the world continues as normal. Together, though..." I trailed off for effect.

"Together, you can spin it as me helping those that the Crown can't, for whatever reason you want to concoct. I still get the underclass, and you get to claim that it was all your idea and I'm just the middle-man to your nobility, or, and you can quote this one, 'whatever soulless monster wishes to object to the barbarism of sheltering the homeless and feeding the hungry.'" I gave a sly wink to Celestia. "Certainly better than me going it alone because the benevolent goddess didn't think it a worthy cause herself, eh?"

An uncomfortable pause. I saw, still, Celestia was not quite convinced. Looks like I had to take a chance. "Besides," I continued. "You can always ask me to tone things down, if I fuck something up, right? Since... we're friends, and all that."

"...You're right. That is a brilliant plan indeed, Adam." Phew. Plan A it is, then. Celestia nodded, an odd sparkle in her eye. "I didn't think you so devious as this."

"Meh," I dismissed, gingerly rising to my feet, Celestia soon following suit. "It's nothing so grandiose as that. I'm no Machiavelli, after all. It's just a matter of my own incandescent brilliance."

I grabbed my cup of water off the coffee table to get a refill. In the kitchen, I continued, with Celestia following closely. "Now, how about you, Princess? How's your Crown doing so far?"

"It goes as well as always, Adam. I am surprised you still have not tired of asking that question."

"You ask me a similar one every time, though."

A smile graced her. "Touché. My point still stands."

"Oh come on!" I wheedled. "There's gotta be something happening, right? Anything interesting in Day Court?"

"Do you really think so?"

"...Good point," I conceded. "When was the last time someone who wasn't a noble showed up in there, anyway?"

“…Mmm. About seven years, or so, to my recollection.”

“Feh.” And Hooves wondered why I disliked Canterlot so much. “Small wonder, then, you using the ‘diplomatic visit’ excuse so often. I’ll bet that’s one of the few that they take for granted, nowadays – and don't question.”

Celestia coloured. “It’s not ‘often.’”

“Sure, sure.” Her deflection was telling. For her sake, though, I decided to let the matter drop, and refocused. "You got any ideas for a timetable for my announcement?"

"I think..." A frown overcame her as she struggled for thought. "...yes, I think the upcoming Summer Sun Celebration. It's as good a time as any."

"Ooh, that's right." The summer solstice was not too far away, indeed. It wasn't actually the longest day of the year, since that didn't really change thanks to ol' Celly at the wheel. It was just that the Summer Sun Celebration took place right in the middle of summer, right on the day the solstice would have been celebrated back home. "Closing in on four digits, aren't ya?"

An odd melancholy overtook her, now. "Yes... that's right."

"Shame I couldn't get the thousandth for myself, eh? Gotta make do with nine-hundred-ninety-eight for my glorious Free State." I shook my head and scoffed, but my mirth soon drained away. "Hey, what's wrong, Cel?"

"No- nothing. It's nothing." Wham, and her mask was back on, just like that. "This year's celebration will be in Canterlot. Will you be okay with that?"

"...Sure," I said, quietly concerned. "I'm fine with that. Hopefully that'll get me in the papers again. There's an awful lot of people get their news from the Canterer, after all. Oh," a finger snap punctuated the idea that came to me. "Can I ask you for a flight there? I'd rather not have to walk for a week to get there."

"I believe Blueblood can arrange that for you," Celestia said gently.

Hold on just one fuckin' second. She just had to go and mention Blueballs to me, didn't she? "...You planned this all out just for that, didn't you?" I jabbed a finger at her. "Princess. I ought to ask you for my wages, for babysitting that jackass for two weeks. Throwing all this shit on top of my shoulders, just for an excuse to send Bluebal- ehm... Blue-blood, away from the palace."

Celestia only smiled knowingly, trying unsuccessfully to hide it by turning her head.

"I knew it!" I exclaimed, throwing my hands in the air. "I fucking knew it! Unbelievable." I shook my head, turning around to put my cup on the counter. "A goddess with the power to move a star, and you use all your divine power for something so unbelievably petty. Jeez."

And then, a voice like silk breathed into my ear. "Fear not, Adam," crooned Celestia, having moved to press against my back seemingly instantly. "Since you've been such a good boy for mommy." A wing found itself wrapped against my other side. "I can get you something special for your reward..."

...

Uh. Fucking hell, my heart just about stopped then and there. I must have trembled like a leaf in a tornado, since Celestia didn't even try following up, instead stepping back, a tone of suppressed alarm in her speech. "Adam? Are you alright?"

"Yeah," I croaked out, barely audible, grabbing on to the counter with all my might, trying not to keel over. "Yeah. I'm fine." Tremors ran all through my side, where her wing had touched me. I sure regretted making that particular joke now. Note to self, never, ever try to say anything funny in her presence again. "Just gimme a sec."

"I am so sorry." There was real despair in her voice, too. "I did not mean to make you so uncomfortable. Please forgive me."

"Nah, nah, you're fine," I waved off weakly. "Just didn't expect to hear that coming from you." Jesus, that awakened some feelings in me. I was going to have to toss myself in a river to cool off. Followed by headbutting a few of my walls, to forget this ever happened. Once I'd mostly calmed down, I started again, turning from my counter to face her. "Christ almighty, Cel. You sure know just what to say to a guy, huh?"

"...I-"

I cut her off. "Anyway. I guess we can discuss this more later, in Canterlot. Closer to the date. I'll have a speech ready by then, probably, unless you want to be the one to come up with something. Two-and-a-half weeks, right?" A nod. "Gotcha. I'll talk to Blueblood, then, maybe- nah, he'll definitely want to go as well."

There was a noticeable pause, hanging in the air like a portent of doom, before Celestia chanced speaking up again. "Of course, Adam. I suppose... I will see you then."

"Alrighty then."

Celestia awkwardly shuffled out, giving me one last wan smile before she left. I was left alone in my kitchen, with an empty cup in my hands. Suppose I ought to check up on Lyra now, and Hooves, if they're done yet.

...Probably should go bathe first, though. Yeah, I like that idea better.

I slid my cup down the counter, bumping it against the edge of the sink, and slipped off to the bathroom, not sure what to think.

8. Sprouting Roots VI – Give Us Your Huddled Masses

Canterlot hadn't changed a single bit since I was last here, two years ago. It was all the exact same architecture, the exact same aroma, the exact same ponies, the exact same wealth as always. Not that I can throw stones in that direction... or could, I guess. I hadn't actually had much experience with Canterlot itself, per se; most of my time here had been spent at the palace, first under glorified house arrest and then in what amounted to a self-imposed exile. Celestia had, to her credit, attempted to socialise me with ponies – undermined by most of them being roaring twatflaps, of course, but there were at least a few decent apples in the cesspool that I had the pleasure to meet.

Hopefully, this visit would change that, a little bit. My plans were to stay here for at least a few days after the Summer Sun, doing a little bit of field research. The main celebration was tomorrow morning, which gave me about ten hours of work-time to use before then, factoring in my sleep schedule (which could practically be measured in geological epochs; I rarely slept for less than nine hours) and my own preparations for the announcement closer to the time.

I'd shown up to the palace along with Blueblood (who quickly went his own way) early in the afternoon the day before, most of which I'd spent talking with Celestia about the logistics of the Summer Sun Celebration, and how I was going to fit into it, as well as some less important matters. She was kind enough to offer me a guest room in the palace for me to use for the week, which made a very pleasant change to my now-usual living room couch back home.

Now, though, the next morning, I had some research to do.

The plan was to try the Canterlot Library first, as a sort of general information gathering – facts, figures, whatever useful I could glean, really. I was still woefully uninformed about the general state of affairs in Equestria, and what little I knew was either outdated or second-hand, from, eh... biased sources. Independent research was necessary.

Second, was a session of mingling with the high-and-mighty of Canterlot. Not during the Summer Sun, of course – not only would I be busy with my whole shebang, but also I would be practically joined to the hip with Celestia the whole time, since I was technically a foreign dignitary, and security was understandably wary of me going off unsupervised. Not to mention me needing some actual legitimacy, in order to not look like a complete idiot in front of thousands.

Afterwards, though... the nobility just couldn't resist the chance to throw after-parties after important events, and the Summer Sun was no exception. Technically speaking, it wasn't open to the public, but with any luck, my proximity to the Crown, in addition to my own status as a sovereign, should hopefully be enough to get me through the doors. If not, well... at a pinch I could ask Blueblood for a favour, or if not then I could simply try vox pops on the street. That'd get me some high-up perspective which, whether I liked it or not, would be extremely valuable.

Finally, if there was any time left in the week, I hoped to find a few of the common folk, mostly around Canterlot instead of inside it proper, and ask for their viewpoint. It was low priority, since I doubted there'd be many ponies living around Canterlot with any meaningful insight – though at least I'd discarded my earlier notion that there weren't any of them here at all. Someone, after all, had to be running all the stores and salons and restaurants and sewage outlets, and it wasn't going to be any aristos.

So, with that in mind, and with a veritable scrapbook of blank paper in a repurposed saddlebag, I set off towards the library. It wasn't too far from the palace, only about ten minutes away, though I was still attracting some attention. Many, many ponies I came across stopped whatever they were doing to stare at me, some whispering amongst themselves. Fortunately, a few seemed to recognise me, and soon the word had spread that, no worries, it was just that weird creature from a while back that the Princess vouched for. By the time I had reached the library, even aside glances were hardly being thrown my way.

The Canterlot Public Library was exactly how I had imagined it would be – massive, antique, and incredibly garish. It was organised as one enormous space, the bookshelves that served to cordon off areas reaching up multiple stories, with no apparent way to retrieve the books held that high up. Practically every single piece of furniture was gilded in some fashion or another – even the reception desk had a golden image of two ponies circling a star embossed in its front.

"Why, hello there, mister," said the librarian, dropping me out of my rubber-necking. "First time in Canterlot?"

I dropped my gaze down to the reception desk, along with the pony behind it. She was a pretty typical-looking unicorn, with a tight bun of a mane and some thin, reedy glasses that just screamed 'elevated book nerd,' together with a neat smile that spoke of blissful fulfilment in her position. "Not exactly," I said by way of answer. "I was here two years ago. It's just my first time seeing the library in person."

"Ah!" Her acid-green eyes lit up in recognition. "You must be that human, then! I'd wondered whatever happened to you, ever since you disappeared! I'm glad to see you weren't dragged off by the minotaurs, after all!"

"That's right," I confirmed. Really? Minotaurs? Even after all this time, rumours still cling to me...? "I'm the human. Adam Inns, First Minister of the Free State – though I probably shouldn't be saying that just yet." I gave her a contrite smile. "I'm just here to do some reading up, staying on top of current events. It's part of my job now, I figure."

"Of course, of course!" She nodded happily, trotting around her desk to reach me face-to-face. "What kind of material are you looking for?"

I allowed myself to be led by her deeper into the maze of bookshelves. "Hmm... let's see. My top priority is finding out about the socio-political situation in Equestria. Economics, quality-of-life, that sort of thing. See how satisfied the average person is with the Diarchy's administration. Maybe... check if there've been any major upheavals in recent memory."

"I see," the librarian said, immediately making a pinpoint turn into another passage. "Any particular time period?"

"Eh," I shrugged, speeding up to try to keep her in my line of sight. "Anything within the last... ten, fifteen years? Maybe up to forty for the bigger stuff."

I had to give her credit: she knew her way around the place. No sooner than I had finished speaking, she had already trotted off to another corner of the library, her muzzle locked in a single direction like a book-seeking missile. Soon, we had reached a small reading area, with a desk and chairs arranged in the middle of yet more excessively-tall bookshelves. Already, books and journals were fluttering down from their places to land on the desk, each suspended in a brilliant jade aura that cut out the second they landed on the table. "Here you are," said the librarian, not looking away from the shelves. "This is some material to get you started."

There wasn't much in front of me, I noticed. "Is this it? Don't you have any newspaper clippings, or anything like that?"

"What? No." She turned her head, left, then right, apparently searching for something. "We don't store anything of that nature here. You'd need to ask in the Royal Archives for that. It's in their name, after all."

Bugger. Looked like a large chunk of the Equestrian zeitgeist was off-limits, then. There was no way in hell Celestia was gonna allow me in the archives. She'd made that crystal clear to me when I'd asked, during my first stay. "I see," I said instead. "Well, I suppose this will do for now. Thank you for your help."

"You're very welcome," she said, immediately retreating back to her desk.

Better get on with it, then. I sat down on the too-small chair, unrolled my first blank sheet, and cracked open the first book, a small tome called Equestria After the Long Night. It sounded more like a post-apocalypse novel than anything useful, but I soon realised that it actually dealt with the immediate aftermath of the Equestrian civil war, about a thousand years ago.

The recovery period, as it was known, lasted for about thirty-five years, during which things were very unpleasant for the common pony. Celestia had grown lethargic, apathetic, presumably from having to now raise and lower the moon as well as the sun, which meant the central government was running at, effectively, half-capacity. Corruption was rampant, and neglect and degeneration was commonplace. It reminded me quite strongly of the period of chaos just after independence, from my own homeland – minus the whole magic thing, of course.

During this time, many towns and villages, the ones that slipped through the cracks where the big, populated cities couldn't, banded together in sort of quasi-federations, sharing supplies and services as needed, though they were ultimately still under Equestria, and willingly disbanded once Celestia finally got her head out of her arse (or, more likely, out of the bakery) and woke up again. The larger cities, full of important people, still got attention from the Crown directly, and so largely rode it out unscathed, though perhaps a little more austere than before.

Interestingly, although Equestria was still incredibly vulnerable to invasion – especially from the griffins and minotaurs, both of which had strong, warlike governments at the time – nobody even tried to have a crack at them. The worst it had gotten was a border skirmish between Trottingham and a griffin settlement, which had since been dissolved. I guess it'd be pretty difficult to invade when their ruler can hold a magnifying glass to your forces like a little kid going up against an anthill.

This was all well and good, but it wasn't really what I was looking for – this was practically ancient history. I needed something more recent.

History of the Evergreen; The Goldbeak Dynasty; The Age of Chaos; The Coldline: Equestria and the Crystal Empire... there was a lot of ancient history to get through. It was, in short, absolutely worthless. I had specifically asked for the modern period, right? Was I being punked right now?

Oh, no, here we... are? Eventually, near the bottom of the pile, I found an incredibly odd title staring me in the face – An Abridged History of the Equestrian Tax Code. A thrilling read, to be sure, but right now it was the best lead I had. Reluctantly, I cracked it open.

And gawped.

Holy fucking hell, what in the fuck is all this? I had inadvertently stumbled across a gold mine. The author, one Diligent Scribe, had, true to their name, been absolutely meticulous in their cataloguing, going back all the way to when it was first established a few years after unification, when it was a simple tithe of one's harvest. Since then, it had steadily evolved, from introduction of new crops, to new manufactured goods, services, industry, all the way to the date of publication, six years ago – a total history of three thousand years and change.

Diligent Scribe had logged each and every single change in it, from changes in existing laws to all-new ones, down to the exact day of each, and even giving the reasons why it had been done, or failing that, speculating on the cause, complete with information to corroborate it. Christ, and this was only the abridged version...

Hold the phone. Am I seeing this right? I flicked back from the modern age, back to a few hundred years, then back further, back into the antebellum period... Yeah, looks like it. Oh – no, there's one.

No tax had been meaningfully lowered for the last four-hundred and fifty years; tax cuts were generally rare, happening mostly before the Long Night. The last time it had happened, Celestia had finally caught wind of some dodginess, and had axed most of the Treasury Bureau, wiping more than a few exorbitant rates with them. It had served its purpose, for all of about eighty years, before hikes again became the norm, and rates rose past their previous level once more.

The last rate that was lowered was a trite one, about a hundred and ten years ago, concerning the legal difference between cookies and cakes, giving different rates for each. The change was a simple three-percent reduction for the latter. That was it. From then on, it was all either hikes for old ones, or making up new ones. The author did not make any special mention of this.

I checked back again, this time looking for the causes behind introducing new laws. For some, it was simply to close loopholes, as any good tax code has to, for instance to stop ponies from getting around the intoxicants' charges by concentrating them enough that they could get away with calling them cleaning products. Most, however, were introduced swiftly following the invention or introduction of some new technology, or product. Things like snowploughs, or new farming implements, or heating gems, or what have you. Many others were hiked up in tandem with them.

I'd read enough. Putting the book back down, I checked for any other books that might give me more to work with. Nothing leapt out at me immediately, so I chose to stand from my seat – whereupon one more title decided to make itself known to me.

Eyes in the Walls: Intrigue in the Court, ALW 650 – 975.

Now this looked like it would be right up my alley. A good look into the machinations of the Equestrian nobility was something I could use damn well, considering I was planning to talk to some of 'em. Sitting back down, I opened the tome.

Ooh. Apparently, six-fifty was a big year for the court, after the establishment of a Chancellery of Public Information Dissemination and Control. Some series of nasty scandals had rocked the highest levels of the aristocracy – and thus Celestia's government – which had quickly spread among the general population. Trust in the Diarchy was at unprecedented lows, which was saying something considering who was at its head, and it appeared drastic measures had to be implemented.

Thus, the PIDC was born, empowered with control over mass media and official propaganda distribution. Standard information control, as far as I saw it, though perhaps better suited for wartime rather than internal instability... although I didn't see anything about actually punishing those who had set the scandals off in the first place, so probably they were just too high up to merely dismiss without serious civil unrest following. Yeah... I can see that.

Over time, though, as the PIDC grew steadily busier and busier, things started to unravel somewhat. A little thing here, some infidelity from a baron there, and things slowly began to grow out of control. In ALW 731, the pony in charge of the chancellery, one Duke Loudmouth (seriously? Why would anyone name their child that?) petitioned for an expansion of their powers to include surveillance on problem individuals, ostensibly to head scandals off at the pass, or at least to do some damage control before they were discovered. What surprised me was that it was actually accepted.

Thus the PIDC metamorphosed into its final form, a combination PR firm and intelligence agency. Most of its time was monopolised by the Court, of course, as per its original mission statement, but a few expansions and budget surpluses allowed it to reach further and further into Equestria – first the big cities, like Baltimare and Manehattan, then into regional hubs like Appleloosa, Ponyville and Los Pegasus, and then into a select few tiny settlements that were deemed hotspots for trouble. (I suspected it was more nobles trying to fall off the radar for their nookie by going to the middle of nowhere, but whatever.)

Of course, somebody had to actually head the chancellery, and of course it had to be one of the nobles themselves. A bit of a loophole there, I figured, but whatever. Nowadays the PIDC seemed more like it was just a parent company of the major Equestrian newspapers, including the Manehattan Times, the Daily Bugle, even the Canterer, right here in Canterlot. I idly wondered how much dirt the chancellery had on me, considering it was the Canterer that blew the whistle on me in the first place.

Hmm. Well, this was all terribly interesting, but I had gotten myself sidetracked. None of this really told me that much about Equestrian society, per se, unless I felt like connecting some dots, which I didn't really have the time for right now. Oh... shit, lost track of time a little bit, there. I'd already spent four hours in here, and I still had appointments to keep. I made a mental note of the names of those books, to track down and analyse later, and stacked them all up neatly in the designated space. The scrolls I had with me - now chock-full of shorthand notes - went back into my bag.

On my way out, the librarian called to me. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Not exactly," I returned, pausing briefly. "But I think I still learned something new today. Thanks for your help."

"No problem!" came the cheery reply from behind me, as I hurried out the door. "Come again soon!"

In the evening, I had found myself with Celestia in the dining hall. It was getting pretty late, with only about an hour or two of sunlight left in the day, and I did need to get to bed earlier than usual to make the Summer Sun rendezvous, but the Princess had insisted I come along. Not that I would have refused anyway, despite my need to recheck my notes and finalise my plan of attack, because...

"Mmm," I hummed around a magnificently succulent chunk of beef fillet. "It's been too long since I had some decent bloody meat around here." I could practically feel myself absorbing the protein.

Celestia hid her grimace of disgust remarkably well, digging into her own meal, some kind of multicoloured flower salad. "I am glad you approve of it. Griffon exports are infamous for their extortionate rates."

"A small price to pay for quality." If there was one thing I missed about Canterlot, it was the chefs. My own culinary ability was only enough to ensure I didn't starve; I couldn't really afford to expand my knowledge, nor to experiment. Besides, I didn't have much variety in my diet to begin with. "I would have been fine with just fish, you know. Was there really a need to go all out?"

"It is customary to offer visiting dignitaries to Equestria meals matching their native cuisine," explained Celestia. "You made it clear to me that your species requires meat to survive."

"Technically, we only need the protein from it. We can live just fine as vegetarians, as long as you don't mind fish, or... I dunno, vitamin supplements or something. I only told you I'm omnivorous."

"Adam." Her tone was quite motherly, as if I'd just been caught out in a lie. "I've spent three thousand years reading between the lines of every interaction with other ponies. Don't think I can't see through you too. Supplements are not a staple of one's diet."

"Sure," I dismissed, growing bored with the topic, instead stuffing more delicious food down me. After a few moments of flavour, I resumed. "So, while I've got you here, I figured I could ask you to remind me exactly what I should expect tomorrow morning. Y'know, while I've still got time to rewrite and re-memorise my speech."

"Of course," she said. "The first event will be, of course, the Call of the Sunrise at six-thirty, at the central square. I shall give the customary speech to start, then raise the sun. After that, the general festivities will begin; we shall travel around Canterlot and its surroundings for most of the remainder of the day, taking part. Finally, at the end of the day, a short speech concluding the celebration, and the Call of the Sunset, will cap the festival off."

"Really?" I paused to finish off the remnants of my meal. "I'd have thought there'd be... a little bit more to that, to be honest. Is the whole day really just going to be walking around the place, drinking punch or something?"

"Of course not," said Celestia, mopping up her own dinner. "My little ponies always create their own events for the Summer Sun Celebration. Whatever they choose, we shall partake in."

"Saves you the trouble of coming up with your own itinerary, right?" Celestia only smiled knowingly.

All I could do was shake my head, pushing my now-empty plate away. A servant immediately appeared at my side, taking the plate in their magic, before disappearing once more. "Darn," I said. "I can't think of a good time to make my own speech in all that, if it's just gonna be one big street party for the day." The sunset might not send a great message, and there's no way-

"Why not? Could you not simply give it during the Call of the Sunrise?"

I looked up at her, shocked. Oh... apparently there's yes way she'd agree to that. "I... didn't think you'd want me muscling in on your big thing there," I admitted. "It's your celebration, after all."

"Nonsense," she dismissed airily. "An achievement such as yours deserves to be celebrated. The Sunrise would only be enriched by your announcement."

I frowned. "...Okay." That was a little bit of a one-eighty from her previous stance on the matter. I tactfully declined from mentioning it to her, though, in case it'd make her change her mind. Being able to give my speech at sunrise was one hell of a windfall, at any rate. "Excellent." Then, my frown intensified, along with the escape of a despaired groan. "Oh, Christ, you're gonna make me get up at four in the fuckin' morning to get ready in time, aren't you?"

"Do not worry, Adam," crooned Celestia, smirking victoriously. "I'll get you ready for your big day tomorrow."

"Thanks." I didn't bother to acknowledge her words further, raising myself from my seat. "In that case, I'd better clock out early tonight. I've still got some revisions to make." I heard Celestia inhale as I turned to the door, but before either of us could do anything more, they opened in a purplish glow, revealing the figure of a unicorn that definitely didn't fit in with the rest of the palace staff. She only had eyes for Celestia, though, running inside at full tilt towards her.

"Oh, Princess! There you are! I've been looking all... over...?" She finally recognised my presence in the room, skidding to a halt and peering at me in incomprehension. Her cheeks coloured from their base lavender to a much redder tint. "...oh," she managed. "E-excuse me-"

"Ah, Twilight!" called Celestia, at once managing to snap her attention back towards her. "I am always glad to see you, my faithful student." She spread her wings wide, inviting this 'Twilight' to jump into a hug with her, which she did at once. "You've just caught me in the middle of a dinner with a friend."

"Technically the end," I interjected, as Twilight disentangled from Celestia and looked back to me. "Never hurts to be precise."

"Adam," began Celestia, spotting something come over Twilight with a glance of disquiet. "I'd like you to meet Twilight Sparkle, my personal protégé and faithful student." She motioned her over with a hoof, which Twilight responded to with a careful walk over to me. "Twilight, this is First Minister Adam Inns, one of my closest friends and confidants."

"Pleased to meet you, Miss Sparkle," I said, extending a hand, which Twilight quickly grabbed (with just a little too much enthusiasm) and shook.

"Please." Twilight smiled shyly. "Just Twilight is fine."

"Then by all means," I returned. "Call me Adam." I turned to look to Celestia for a brief moment, catching a nod, and looking back down to the unicorn. "Now, as much as I'd love to stay and get to know the Princess' own protégé, I do have work that needs doing before tomorrow. I'm afraid I must bid you two adieu."

"Of course," said Celestia, as Twilight already turned to trot back to her with eager steps. "I'll see you in my office tomorrow morning." Spinning on my heel, I waved vaguely behind me, and left the dining hall.

Some confidant I am, I thought, amused, as I made my way back to my guest quarters. She hadn't ever mentioned a student to me before. Probably wasn't too relevant, in any case, but still...

I let the situation slip out of my mind, instead returning to my task at hand. Right, the Summer Sun Shindig... speech at sunrise, then the rest of the day around Canterlot doing stuff, then a finale at the end. Gonna have to rework my speech a little, now that I can cram all my oblique metaphors in about new dawns. Hopefully the audience won't be restricted to the upper class, otherwise I might just get booed off the stage...

Before I knew it, I had arrived at my quarters. I didn't let the sight of gratuitous luxury sway me, instead moving over to the desk with my notes. I quickly got to work.

Right. Gotta praise Celestia slash Canterlot slash aristocracy at the start, then talk about Hooves, then the Free State, then gotta sell the concept, then throw in something about the sun. Bases are all more or less covered, except... I scribbled passages out here and there, replacing them with more suitable ones, perhaps thicker with feeling than before but certainly more fit for purpose.

The excursion at the library had given me some ammunition, as well. I didn't want to go all-in, as it were, based on only a few scant references in books that had since lost any relevancy to the modern day, but it did still give me a few ideas I could use. Those that sounded good, went in.

After only twenty minutes of work, I had a more-or-less finished draft. Reading it over one more time didn't reveal any flaws, so I decided to let it rest. Soon after, seeing the sun turn an even more brilliant shade of yellow through the window before it descended below the horizon, I decided to let myself rest too. Big day tomorrow, Inns.

Big day, indeed.

Six-fourteen.

"Are you sure this is how you wish to proceed?"

"Yes, I am, Princess. You asking me that five more times isn't going to change my mind, you know."

A wooden platform had been erected in the Canterlot square. Celestia and I, along with a couple aides for each of us, were in what amounted to a backstage area, hidden from view of the public. I could already hear a dull roar murmuring from behind the platform. Celestia was staring at me, and had been ever since she'd heard my post-it-note version of my speech. I was trying to avoid snickering, ever since the thought that it was a stare of suppressed lust had hit my brain. It kept the realisation that I was about to go up to a crowd of thousands out of there, at least.

Right now, we were waiting for a pony to go up and announce the beginning of the festivities. It was supposed to be the mayor of Canterlot, but apparently they were off sick with TB or something, so we had to get Prince Blueblood in instead. Naturally, he was off across the other side of the city, in some upper-class wine club. Fuck only knew why he thought it was a good idea to go to a wine tasting at two in the morning.

"I am only making certain that you know what you are going to do," said Celestia.

"Mmm," I replied, intelligently.

Six-sixteen.

“Adam?” A pause. “Are you sure you-”

“Yes,” I snapped. “I’m sure.” I tugged at the collar of my three-piece, tailored specifically for the occasion. It wasn’t terribly well put together, being a little baggy in places, but it was quite snazzy regardless. It made a big change from my usual basement-dweller attire, at any rate. “Christ, if I’d known you’d be like this I’d have arrived a day early and gotten it out of you then.”

This time, Celestia had nothing to say. She just kept staring at me.

Six-eighteen.

I rehearsed the event in my mind. First Blueblood, to introduce the Princess, who’d give her speech, and call me up at its end. Then I go, speak my piece, then leave it to Celestia to finish it off. It was delightfully simple, but that didn’t make the prospect any more appealing. Public speaking was not one of my strong points, and never had been. I could only hope I got absorbed enough in my speech to bypass my near-crippling anxiety.

I resorted to pacing back and forth. The simple motion of walking forward never failed to clear my mood and sharpen my faculties. A churning mass settled in my stomach that I tried my damnedest to ignore. I hoped and prayed I wouldn’t lose my voice halfway through.

“Adam?”

“Yes,” I all but shouted. “I am sure!”

Six-twenty.

Celestia ignored my outburst. “Perhaps you need something to calm the nerves?” She gestured vaguely in the direction of one of her assistants, who immediately scrambled over to her. At Celestia’s nod of the head, they then turned their focus on me.

“No, thank you,” I told them. “I’ll be fine.” I had to work pretty hard to keep a tremble out of my voice. “Just keep talking at me, Princess. Maybe that’ll help.”

And immediately… “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Snrk. Despite myself, something approaching a laugh snuck out of my throat. “Oh fucking hell.” My voice was noticeably airier than before, at least, along with my mood. Celestia had actually managed to snap me out of my funk, a little bit. “I swear, if you ask me that again, I’m gonna get Blueblood to read my speech for me. Then we’ll see who’s laughing.”

Six-twenty-two.

“That can be arranged,” said Celestia, smirking, as she glanced at something behind me. Turning around revealed to me that Prince Blueblood had finally made his appearance.

“Ambassador!” I called, grateful for any distraction. “Not to disparage you in any way, but you seem to be making a habit of arriving fashionably late.” Other than a nod, Blueblood didn’t acknowledge me, heading instead immediately up to the stage.

“You have one more chance to back out of this, Adam,” said Celestia, concern written all over her. “You don’t have to force yourself to do this.”

“I’m not forcing anything, your Majesty,” I replied. “I’m doing this for a good cause.” Just gotta remember that, when I’m up there…

Showtime. The murmuring behind the stage stopped at once, where Blueblood’s voice rang out to replace it. Celestia made her own move, checking over herself, then me, then the stage itself, one last time. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, she nodded once, and started up the stage. I made my own way over, just to listen in. I didn’t need to – an aide would give me my cue – but I could still be curious, and Celestia might give me something to throw in besides.

“Greetings, my little ponies,” began Celestia’s speech, ringing out clearly through the whole square. “I am glad and happy to see so many of my beloved subjects in front of me today, gathering to celebrate the peace and harmony that has been the foundation of Equestria for thousands of years. The achievements of all ponykind, be they cultural, scientific, or otherwise, are nothing short of incredible.”

I mostly tuned out the rest of it, mostly consisting of the usual aggrandising of Equestria, her subjects, and herself. It was surprisingly hollow, for how much she struck me as a kind and caring ruler. Maybe that was because her audience mostly consisted of the Canterlot citizenry, much of which doubled as her government, and thus had to be tailored specifically not to fuck with them.

Honestly, though, it seemed like a fine enough speech. Certainly much better than most addresses to the nation from back home that I could remember, since this one was not, at first glance, full of lies, bullshit, exaggeration, and an undercurrent of crippling despair underlining the whole sordid affair. Still flew in through one ear and out the other, though.

Six-twenty-five.

“However, before the Call of the Sunrise begets a new year for Equestria, I have one final announcement to make.” Welp, looked like my number’s up. No time to hesitate now. An aide waved a hoof at me, then the stage, and I dutifully climbed the steps, although I didn’t move further than the wall that hid me from the audience. “First Minister Inns, if you would kindly.” Oh shit, not even a prelude? Celestia turned her head to me from the podium, stepping back from it, and both her and the aide beckoned me out.

With slightly shaky steps, I exited the safety of the backstage, and took my place. Celestia stayed off to the side, giving me plenty of space.

Oh fuck me. A veritable sea of ponies stared at me from down below. That’s… a lot. That’s a lot of people. My breathing sped up, along with my heartrate. There had to be at least ten thousand of them. How in the hell did they squeeze so many in here?

There was no way in hell I could do this. I’m gonna fuck up, my speech is gonna be crap, I’ll be booed off the stage, there’s no way I won’t be… there’s no fucking way I can do this!

But there was. All those faces, staring up at me, were expecting me to do it. I couldn’t just stand here and gawp like a twat; that would be infinitely more humiliating than just giving my speech, crap though it may or may not be. I had to do it.

And so I did.

Even if it turned out a bit crap in the end.

I cleared my throat, trying to make sure my voice wouldn’t crack, or be too scratchy. “Ah, yes,” I began, far too quietly to be heard. I blinked, and tried again, this time loud enough to carry over the whole audience. “Good morning to you all. I’m afraid I must ask you to excuse any slip-ups that I might make; unfortunately, public speaking is not a forte of mine.” Yeah, great job, Inns, lower their expectations right at the start of the fuckin’ thing. I shook the errant thought out of me, and continued.

Step one. “For those of you who might not have heard about me, or might have forgotten, my name is Adam Inns. I arrived here in Equestria just over two years ago, through… unusual means, with only the clothes on my back to my name, and no way to return home. I was lost and confused, fearing that I would lose everything in this strange new land I’d found myself in, and doubtless I would have – if it weren’t for her Majesty, Princess Celestia, who, in her benevolence, offered me a helping, er, hoof, when I needed one most.” The ponies in the audience seemed to be eating it up, at least, which made me feel a little bit better. My speech gradually became more fluid; thicker and more genuine.

“I had found myself without a home, and the Princess gave me a room at her own expense, and eventually a home of my very own. I had found myself without a livelihood, and the Princess offered me one at the Court, at her own expense, and eventually allowed me to make my own. I had found myself without even anyone to call a friend, and the Princess offered one in herself, at her own expense, and eventually allowed me to find my own.” I kept the smile off my face, if not out of my tone. “In my original home, this would never have happened; not to somebody as unimportant as me, at any rate. To have the sovereign of a nation care so deeply for others, even those who are such total outsiders as I am… I speak no hyperbole when I say that to me, Equestria is quite possibly the closest thing to utopia as I can imagine.” I paused, seeing the audience swelling with pride. Makes sense, I guess, them approving of non-ponies kissing the earth they trod on.

Step two, then. “Unfortunately,” I continued, injecting some sorrow. “Not everyone was as fortunate as I was.” That quite decisively deflated the spectators, I saw. I gave them no time to gather themselves. “’To err is human,’ goes a saying from my home. Mistakes are a part of life, after all, and though Equestria may certainly be better than anything from there, it is still far from perfect – even today. Only three weeks ago, I received a visitor at my door – which, incidentally, is as close to being in the middle of nowhere as it might possibly be – asking for my help.” I raised my voice now, to properly convey my point. “They told me that they had been forsaken by their peers, left without a home, without a livelihood, and yes, without anyone to call a friend. They told me that they had nowhere else to go, any longer, and that they were now pinning all their hopes on me, in the desperate hope that finally, at long last, someone would reach out, as the Princess did to me, and offer a home, a livelihood, and a friend.”

I looked over the crowd again, seeing them eerily captivated. I found, to my surprise, that my anxiety had all but disappeared. “But that wasn’t the end of it. Only a scant few days later, a family of five came to me, seeking precisely the same thing – a home, a livelihood, a friend. This time, however, it was not the work of a mere pony, or even a group of them. This time, the culprit was Equestria itself.” The shocked gasps that followed were like music to my ears, though they swiftly reduced to murmuring and whispers. “Even the Princess, with all her power and morality, is not omnipotent, nor is she omniscient. Ponies are bound to fall through the cracks, left abandoned simply because the bureaucracy couldn’t get to them in time, or wasn’t even aware of their plight.” That’s enough of that, methinks. Let’s not derail the subject. “That’s not right. Not in Equestria.”

Step three. “Now, there’s one last detail about myself I’ve neglected to mention to you all.” I cleared my throat again, this time for effect. “Four weeks ago, I received a visit from Princess Celestia, herself. I won’t go into specifics for the sake of privacy; suffice to say that a series of events unfolded, at the end of which I was given sovereignty.” Another wave of gasps. “As a practical joke.” The exasperation with which I said the phrase at least morphed the crowd from shocked to amused. Evidently, they were quite familiar with the Princess’ tendency for poorly-thought-out merriment. “And yes, her Majesty played it out to the fullest extent. Allow me to introduce myself properly – First Minister Adam Inns, of the Free State of the White Tail Woods.”

Time to go in for the kill. “Now, to be sure, initially I had wanted nothing to do with this. I was perfectly content to continue my life as it was, in a cabin in the woods, reading the days away.” I’d only now realised I had lost track of time, and had to check quickly. It was only six-twenty-eight; plenty of time left before the Call. “It was all a big joke, after all, not worthy of consideration, and certainly an intrusion to my idyll – with no offense intended to your Majesty, of course.” I briefly dipped my head towards Celestia. “However, her Majesty had given me real, tangible power through the course of her actions. The visitor I received was what finally made me realise it – that, even unintentionally, the Princess had given me the power to change lives for the better. With that power, I could afford to give them a home, give them a livelihood, and give them someone to call a friend – and, yes, to do the same to those who came after her.

“That is what I offer to you now, Equestria – nothing less than what the Princess has already given me. For those of you who are without a home, I offer you one. For those of you who are without a livelihood, I offer you one. For those of you who are without friends, I offer you one.” I took in a deep breath, staring down as many single ponies in the crowd as I could make out. “And I’ll go one step further. To the tired, I offer a place for you to rest in. To the needy, I offer a place for you to be cared for in. To the hungry, I offer a place for you to be fed in. And above all, to the alone, to the unwanted, to the forsaken, I offer a place for you to find a community in.”

Six-thirty.

Step five – finish it off. “Let this Summer Sun Celebration bring a new dawn over all Equestria, where nopony ever has to go hungry, or homeless, or forsaken, ever again!” I threw my arms out wide – afraid for a split-second that no-one was going to react, or worse, start booing for trying to steal the show – but then, almost immediately, an ear-splitting cheer rang out throughout the Canterlot square, the crowd practically leaping up into the air. I quickly stepped back from the podium, allowing Celestia to take my place.

With a practised ease, she lifted into the air, wings outstretched but holding still, eyes glowing a brilliant white, soon to be followed by her horn. The darkness of the night quickly gave way to the dawn of a new day. The crowd hollered all the while, their eyes only for their princess.

I closed my eyes, breathing deeply, basking in my emotions. That was surprisingly easy, once I’d gotten into it. Sure, the butterflies were still there, though settling down now that I wasn’t in front of anyone, but for once that didn’t stop me from giving it my all. Huh.

Celestia trotted up to me, having concluded the sunrise ceremony. “A fine speech, Adam,” she said, eyeing me critically. “An excellent oration, too. I must admit, you’ve surprised me.”

“I’ve surprised myself,” I replied, a little breathily. “I can’t believe I managed to get through that whole thing without stumbling over myself once.”

“A shame,” she said. “You could have gone far in Canterlot.”

I smirked. “Should’ve thought of that before you gave my supreme overlordship to me, Princess.” I jerked my head forward. “Now then, I believe we have some celebrating to do.”

“Quite right.” Celestia and I walked off the stage side-by-side. In truth, I was looking forward to spending the rest of the day hanging around Canterlot – not to mention with my friend, Celestia – even if it was just a formality.

It also helped me distract myself from contemplating the repercussions, of which I didn’t doubt there would be many – and few of them good. Fuck it. As long as I can do some good, it’ll all have been worth it.

9. Sprouting Roots VII – That's a Lot of Ponies...

The Summer Sun was a lot more interesting than I thought it would be. There really wasn’t much to do for most of the day, in terms of productive work, and Celestia wouldn’t let me stray too far off by myself. I’d eventually started treating it as more of a hang-out than a diplomatic function, which helped considerably. The various activities the Canterlot populace had set up weren’t anything to write home about, mostly consisting of formal dances and fancy buffets. Celestia even asked me to dance with her on one occasion, which both I and our entourage vehemently denied, on the grounds that it might send a bit of a dangerous message, politically speaking – and also, I had very little ability to dance as it was, never mind trying it with a bloody horse.

Towards the evening, we had fallen into a comfortable discussion regarding the history of Canterlot. It had only become the seat of Equestria’s rule after the Long Night, although it had been around for somewhat longer than that, built about sixteen hundred years ago during a brief economic boom, apparently just to show off to the world. It had quickly been occupied by the nobility, primarily as a sort of holiday getaway, which made it an important city practically overnight. However, when the civil war destroyed the previous capital (in the Everfree, because where the fuck else would it have been, apparently), a new location needed to be chosen, and Canterlot fit the bill pretty much perfectly. Interestingly, the Canterlot Palace was only finished thirty-five years after the conclusion of the war – the same time Celestia had woken up and started ruling the nation again. An interesting coincidence, or maybe ponies needed a throne to sit in before they were physically able to rule. I found it pretty funny, at any rate.

Then, some interesting trivia about Canterlot ensued – apparently, it had the lowest population growth of any city in Equestria, so much so that it was practically fixed, at roughly four-hundred-and-ten thousand proper residents. That confused me a little bit; capital cities were generally the most populous ones, and Equestria spanned almost half the continent.

“Wait, so how many ponies are there in Equestria?” I had asked.

Celestia actually had to stop and think about that for a moment, before giving the answer: “Hmm… about twenty million, if I recall the census data correctly.”

That had shut me up for a good long while. It reminded me quite effectively that I was still in an alien world, where a nation with such a small population could still be such a heavyweight – though, as I later reflected, the fact that Celestia could move a star probably did most of the work for them. No nation back on Earth could have conceivably called themselves a superpower with such a disproportionately small amount of citizens, without an ace in the hole like that.

The Call of the Sunset was no less spectacular than the Sunrise – except this time, I was able to focus my undivided attention on the event. The speech was a little less dull this time, since all the political smokescreen bullshit had been done in the morning; this one consisted mostly of thanking the citizens for their work setting up the activities, and had a little more feeling behind it. The actual lowering of the sun, though… man, that never, ever got any less incredible. The sheer presence the Princess exuded, not to mention her glowing-up the whole place, was nothing short of spectacular.

Finally, I was able to retire to my room in the palace. The day, the event, the festivities – all concluded, with only the blissful oblivion of bed-rest remaining.

The following morning had found me at a bit of a crossroads. Waking up was surprisingly unpleasant (more so than usual, I mean) and going through my morning routine hadn’t done much to cheer me up, away from home as I was. It seemed, by all accounts, that today was going to be profoundly dissatisfactory, and not just because that noble after-party was scheduled for the afternoon. Naturally, Celestia had insisted on meeting me for breakfast, along with her student, Twilight Sparkle, who was far too curious for her own good.

It was a decidedly adequate affair. Miss Sparkle was a consummate scholar, and pestered me with endless questions about my species, biology, magical ability, and so on, and was only stopped for minutes at a time by Celestia’s many reprimands. I didn’t mind so much, though; the French toast I was served made up for it very nicely.

Fortunately, Celestia had some things scheduled with her student, so I was spared the fate of spending my own time with her, leaving me with the remainder of the day to do with as I pleased. Stop one was the library; to finish taking some notes down that I missed the first go around, and to inquire as to where I could actually purchase the books that had caught my eye two days before. It didn’t take terribly long, and was pretty dull all in all.

Eventually, inexorably, time lead me to stop two – where I was now – the after-party of the Summer Sun Celebration, reserved for nobility only.

It took place in palace grounds, specifically the back gardens as well as a few ballrooms that exited into them. Security, in the form of the Royal Guard, was surprisingly light, as far as I could tell, and identities weren’t being screened very tightly. Either that, or I was already on the approved list and I just hadn’t been sent an official invite – or perhaps my proximity to Celestia yesterday told them that I was important, and to not fuck with me just in case. Either way, I’d simply… gotten in, ill-fitting suit and all.

The ballroom I’d entered looked like it was decorated more for a wedding than an upper-class gathering. White silk was draped all over the place, gold was gleaming everywhere, and every single pony in the room (of which there were far more than I had expected) was dressed head-to-hoof in astonishingly elite suits or dresses. I’d never seen anything quite like it.

My natural height seemed to give the room pause as I made myself known by simply entering. Seemingly every head in the room turned my way; some evaluating, some curious, some… less friendly. Fortunately, the moment soon passed, and the murmur of conversation that I hadn’t even heard had stopped, resumed, with every pony returning to their earlier tasks.

I took simple, hesitant steps further into the ballroom. I couldn’t recognise any faces in the crowd. My hands began to fidget, seemingly by themselves. Looking around, I spotted something akin to a bar, and decided that it would be as good a place to start as any; as long as I didn’t go overboard, some alcohol would hopefully help me relax in front of all these strangers.

I’d barely opened my mouth to order when a glass of wine was simply pushed into my hands, by a unicorn that looked about ready to keel over dead. I thanked her for her trouble, which made a twinkle appear on her before it fell away just as quickly. I sipped at my new drink – I never really had much of a taste for the fancier spirits, but by all accounts, this wine was alright. Not too sour, with a nice fruitiness to it that took the rest of the edge off.

“First Minister?” A voice to my left broke me out of my thoughts. Turning to it revealed Prince Blueblood’s flabbergasted expression, which made me sigh in relief.

“Prince Blueblood! Oh, thank God, at least there’s someone here that I recognise.”

“First Minister?” he repeated. “What in all the starless hells are you doing here?”

“An excellent question, your Highness,” I answered, gesturing behind him at the other guests. “I was hoping for a chance at some light conversation with the, ah, great powers of the nobility, as it were.” Recognition began to dawn in his eyes. “Probably, I’m not really supposed to be here, but the Guard didn’t stop me, and no-one’s raised a fuss yet, so… I thought I might as well try to mingle. Incidentally,” I stepped closer and lowered my voice, all conspiratorial-like, “if you’re not otherwise preoccupied, would you be so kind as to, perhaps… introduce me to some of them?”

Blueblood thought it over, staring off into the distance somewhere, but eventually firmed up. “Yes,” he said, nodding at me. “An excellent idea, in fact. Please, follow me.” He took a wine glass of his own in his magic, and began weaving through the crowd, looking this way and that. Towering over the rest of the ponies as I did, it wasn’t difficult to stick behind him.

"What, exactly, made you decide to attend this ball?" asked Blueblood, more out of a desire to fill time than genuine curiosity. "I didn't believe you one for these sorts of events."

"Information gathering," I replied, deftly weaving around two ponies. "I want a sense of what's happening in Equestria, particularly Canterlot, and particularly what the aftermath of my little speech entails. Got a genuine excuse for asking, here, too, as opposed to just walking up to them on the street."

"I see," said Blueblood, vaguely approving. "I see. Ah, here we are!" He abruptly stopped in front of another pair, somehow not terribly distinct from all the others despite their quite eye-watering appearance. "Lord Jet Set, Lady Upper Crust, a pleasure to see you here! Please, allow me to introduce to you the newly-declared First Minister of the Free State."

The two unicorns turned their attention to me, and after a short inspection seemed to find me wanting. "First Minister," said the stallion, stepping up to me stiffly. He didn't offer a hoof. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance." His tone held very little warmth in it. Jeez, who pissed in his cornflakes this morning?

"A pleasure," echoed the mare, slightly more naturally.

I inclined my head to them respectfully, in order of acquaintance. "Likewise, Lord. And Lady."

"Lord Jet Set is one of the chief financial advisors to the Crown," explained Blueblood. "Lady Upper Crust is his wife, and has connections to many important businesses across Equestria, chief among them Sturdy Steel Imports. And of course, you two have already heard of the First Minister's speech, yesterday...?"

"Of course," said Jet Set. "A fine work of oration, if I may be so bold to say." I saw Blueblood's ears flutter. The faint praise didn't escape me, either, though I chose not to comment on it.

"Thank you kindly, sire. My oratory ability was my main concern, as it happens, while I was giving it. I am quite pleased to see that it was unfounded." Both ponies' brows raised. Even Blueblood threw me a look. "Nevertheless," I continued, unfazed. "I must confess I did not come here merely as a meet-and-greet exercise. In fact, I've found myself with a number of questions, and I was hoping that somepony here would be able to answer them."

"Of course," Jet Set broke in, seemingly unable to stop himself. "The riff-raff from the streets begging for handouts from the elite of Equestria-"

"Do behave yourself, dear," interrupted Upper Crust, walking up to him and gently bumping against him. "He does have the ear of the Princess, despite being a lowborn." I doubt I was supposed to hear her whispering into his ear. Again, I ignored it.

Jet Set, at least, changed his tune. "Ah, my apologies, First Minister. Your, ah... appearance is quite deceiving."

"Mmm." Sure. Whatever you say.

Fortunately, the conversation ran a lot smoother after Jet Set had gotten it out of his system. The pair's breadth of knowledge wasn't very extensive, but I had learned an awful lot about Equestrian economics – which was in surprisingly good shape, considering my previous knowledge. In fact, it seemed that the country was just about to come out of its bust period; employment was picking up, profits were the highest they'd been in decades, and productivity was gathering steam. Even Blueblood was taken by surprise by the glowing endorsements.

Upper Crust was particularly keen to educate me on the state of the international market. Equestria was by far the wealthiest nation around, beating even Zebrica's (what seemed to me to be quite exaggerated) natural gold supply. However, the noblemare let it slip that Equestria was relatively average in terms of natural resources itself, which of course prompted the obvious question.

The one thing Equestria had in abundance was magic. More precisely, it was skilled magicians – artificers, scholars of theory, archmages, and so on; even earth pony agriculturalists and pegasi weather experts fit the bill. Apparently, these were such hot commodities overseas that the Crown was able to negotiate ridiculous resource extraction rights in exchange for sharing their expertise – rights that were still in effect to this day, even those that were signed two millennia ago. No doubt the threat of a solar flare burning them to a crisp discouraged those whose feathers were ruffled by such deals to try reneging on them.

"We've recently hit an undiscovered vein of iron ore, near Graveclaw – some twenty leagues north-west of Griffonstone." Upper Crust was now regaling me with some recent successes of her businesses. Yes, hers – as it turns out, 'connections to businesses' meant quite a wide variety of things to Blueblood. "Sturdy Steel expects an eighty percent increase in revenue, with minimal additional expenditure. In fact, the labour costs are expected to decrease thanks to its location, since it being so near to the town will cut down on transportation time."

"Mmm." I was quite glad that my non-committal humming was being mistaken for genuine interest. This topic of conversation, quite frankly, was beginning to wear thin. Jet Set had been called away by Blueblood elsewhere, probably to mingle with some other idiots, which had left me alone with the mare; thirty minutes of dry business talk would drive many to sleep regardless of the conversationalist.

"Now then," said Upper Crust, abruptly. "I believe I've talked enough about my own situation. How do things look in your Free State so far?"

"Hmm?" I was taken off guard by the sudden change in topic. "Oh, right. The Free State..."

The mare misinterpreted my disorientation. "Your economy?" she prompted.

"Well, ah... we don't really have one, yet," I admitted. "It's all still in a very early stage. Right now, the Diarchy is still bankrolling our development; I've got six citizens, which isn't much of a workforce."

"Ah, I see," said Upper Crust. "Still hypothetical. Well, in that case, how do you plan on going forward?"

"In truth, I still haven't considered the question much." I sipped at my wine, trying to buy some time to think. "We don't have much besides lumber… I suppose a policy of autarky would be a terrible idea, but it still appeals to me, more so now even."

"Autarky?" she parroted. "What is that?"

Eh? "What do you mean? Do you really not know what an autarky is?" She shook her head. "Really...? Well, anyway, autarky is a policy of deliberately limiting foreign trade – imports and exports – down to a minimum, usually nothing at all."

"What?" the mare all but shrieked. Some heads turned our way, prompting her to recompose herself. "How... how can a policy like that ever be successful? It would lead to ruin!"

"You're right," I said, to her confusion. "It's usually a pretty bad idea, especially if you don't have much resources to begin with. There's been a few nations that tried it historically – back home, I mean – with rare success. It'd be even worse here, I suspect, with how interconnected Equestria is with its neighbours, economically. But the key thing about it is that it means being independent from other economies, so they can't control you as easily, for example by embargo, or hiking up prices of essentials you depend on."

"Feh." Upper Crust actually threw her head back, sticking her nose up into the air. "Anyone who can't see the benefit of trading with Equestria deserves to languish in their backwards filth."

"...Is that your government's official position on the matter?" I snarked.

"Upper Crust, dear!" Finally, Jet Set reappeared from whatever pits of Hell he wandered off to; whatever retort was on her lips vanished upon his re-entry. "There you are! I'd... thought you would have made your leave by now, First Minister."

Finally, an excuse! "As a matter of fact, I was just leaving," I replied, nodding to each of them. "Thank you kindly for indulging me, Lady Upper Crust. I'll take what you've given me into consideration. Good day to you both." I turned on my heel and went on my way, ignoring whatever they began to whisper about behind my back.

Blueblood had not turned back up, which I figured really shouldn't have been as much of a surprise as it was. Knowing him, he'd gotten caught up at the bar, and was busy trying to drink it dry. A shame; the wine I'd been given was actually quite nice, and the buzz it'd given me was quite agreeable indeed, pushing my discomfort and disdain away.

So, apparently Equestria was doing better than I'd expected it to. Employment was up, profits were high... by all accounts, it was all sunny days and warm breezes. It was a bit of a wrench to my mind-map of the situation. Steady Hooves had been an example of gross economic mismanagement, according to his story, and I had little reason to doubt him. He'd brought his family with him, after all. Now, someone with actual experience in the field was telling me, in effect, not to worry about it.

It just didn't add up – I was missing something. I made my way over to the bar to get a refill. Somebody isn't telling the whole truth. It was the only conclusion that made sense to me – after all, an economy can't both be doing well and shitting all over the little people.

Steady – years of trouble paying bills, one day it became too much. Moved to bigger cities for better work, without success. Finally stumbled over me, and gave it a shot, together with his family. Upper Crust – things are picking up, business is booming, especially her own Sturdy Steel...

Sturdy Steel Imports.

That's one angle that could fit – all the jobs are going overseas, so Equestria (and the nobility) is getting rich, and the common ponies are going redundant. It certainly had precedent, from back home, and all the info I had fit together with it.

Alternatively, one of the two were simply lying. Steady didn't seem too likely, but it was possible he was simply trying a long con, for some unknown purpose. On the other hand, Upper Crust could simply be trying to aggrandise her own position, and to someone close to the Princess no less – and to a commoner, which she definitely didn't hold in high regard. It seemed more and more plausible, the longer I thought about it. If anyone was lying to me, it'd be her.

Still. I gratefully accepted my third glass, and moved to mingle among the crowd once more. There continues to be something I am missing. I've got lots of little pieces, but there's more than one big picture they could fit. Simply put, I needed another perspective. It was still too early to be jumping to conclusions.

Eventually, I saw someone waving a foreleg at me out of the corner of my eye. The polite smile on his face made him stand out among the masses; I homed in on it like a shark.

"First Minister!" he called, once I'd gotten close enough. He held out the hoof he'd waved at me with, which I quickly shook. "A pleasure to see you here! I must say, I'm surprised the security let you through the door at all."

I quirked an eyebrow. It seemed like the tendency of the elite to talk down to the unwashed masses was a universal one – or multiversal, considering my situation. "Likewise, on both counts. Then again, I do look like I'm supposed to be here, and I was with the Princess for the whole day yesterday. But I digress – who might you be?"

The unicorn smiled. (Boy, there's a lot of unicorns in here, huh?) "I am Lord Fancy Pants. Deputy Chancellor of Foreign Affairs."

My expression quickly turned grimly amused. "Ah, so you're the one to blame for sending Ambassador Blueblood over to the Free State?"

"Oh, goodness me, no!" He chuckled politely. "I would never inflict such a thing on anypony. Blueblood's position was given by Crown directive. The Chancellery had nothing to do with it – technically, we don't have any authority over him at all." That confirmed that theory, at least. Thanks a bunch, Celly.

"Anyway," he continued. "I wished to thank you in person for your contributions, yesterday. What you said lit one heck of a fire under the nobility, if you'll pardon my Prench. Maybe you'll finally be the one to convince them that it's time to start doing something about this whole mess." His eyes shifted left and right, as if fearful of who'd overhear.

"That's not what I did it for," I reminded him. "Believe it or not, but I meant what I said."

"I know that," he said. "Of course. Simply call it a pleasant side-effect of the situation."

"Well, if I can convince you lot to finally start doing something useful, then I guess I can live with that." I sipped at my wine. "Incidentally, what exactly do you mean by 'this whole mess?'"

"Oh..." He seemingly clammed up, now even throwing his gaze up to the ceiling. "I, ah... I don't believe this may be the best place to bring it up."

...Okay? What? "If you say so." I let a pause pass, to clear the air, and to let Fancy finish his inspection of the surroundings. "Though, if I may, there seems to be a whole lot of 'mess' in Equestria to clean up, from what I've gathered. Upper Crust might have tried to talk it up, but I know how to read between lines. Business is booming, right?"

"That's right," he confirmed. "Domestic product is up four percent. A good sign, by all accounts."

"And yet, none of that translates to better lives for the little people. Correct?"

"Now that," he began, "I'm not so sure about. The Treasury has no use for gold simply sitting in its coffers; they must actually do something with it."

"Let me guess, social programs? Like food banks, homeless shelters, youth centres, regeneration projects?"

"Ah..." His hesitation told me everything I needed to know.

"Thought so." I turned my stare to the side, seemingly dismissing the conversation. "What does the Crown even do with all its income, anyway? Is it really so expensive to maintain the Canterlot Palace that they have to spend a third of their GDP just to wax the floors?"

"No! Of course not!" Oh dear, looked like Fancy Pants was genuinely offended by the suggestion. "Nothing like that. The gold flows exactly to where it needs to. Be it the Crown servants, or infrastructure maintenance, or what have you. None of it is wasted."

"I'm sure." Bleh. My patience was flagging. My wine had long since run dry, the glass whisked away by a servant, and my buzz was steadily disappearing. I couldn’t even be bothered to ask for a clarification. "Well, in any case, it was a pleasure to meet you, Lord Fancy Pants."

He took his cue, nodding politely to me. "Likewise to you, First Minister Inns." He hastily made his exit, leaving me standing alone.

I'd spent long enough here, to my mind. Swivelling my head around, I quickly located an exit – but, just as I was about to make a step, another voice broke in. "First Minister, a word, please."

I had to shake my head. Right on cue, as usual. Turning to face the speaker, I was met with yet another unicorn stallion, distinguished from Fancy Pants only by colour – a slightly lighter coat, not quite white, with an odd two-toned green and blue mane that didn't detract from his presence – and his utterly blank expression – one bit. "Ah, yes. You've caught me just in time; I was just about to leave."

"Fortuitous." He nodded. "Allow me to introduce myself. Lord Heartstrings, Chancellor of Public Information Dissemination."

"Ah!" My eyebrows rose in recognition. "Yes, that rings a bell. You were the editor-in-chief of the Canterer back when I first arrived here, weren't you? An excellent piece of journalism, incidentally. I suppose I should congratulate you on your promotion."

"Thank you, First Minister," he said, bowing his head. "Though you misunderstand. I held both positions simultaneously at the time, and still do. Still, I humbly accept your praise."

"Mmm. So, what did you wish to discuss?"

"Are you willing to speak in an official capacity?"

Ooh. Sneaky son of a bitch. "Oh, an interview, huh? Sure, I'm game. As long as it doesn't take too long," I muttered under my breath.

"Excellent." A pad and quill appeared out of thin air, with a soft 'pop.' "I shall try to make this brief. I can see you fraying – even if I hadn’t heard you." His smirk was not something I'd expected to see on anyone here, entirely too playful to fit in – especially with how flat and cold the rest of him was. At least there's someone here with something of a sense of humour about them. "First things first. How did you become First Minister?"

“Like I said in my speech,” I said. “I made a bad joke to a Guardsman, who decided to involve her in the situation. She was the one to create my position. And, uh… the joke ran on a little longer than I expected it to.”

“Mhm.” His quill moved with near-preternatural speed, speaking of many years of experience. “How would you describe your… Free State, as it is now?”

“A work in progress,” I deadpanned. “It’s more of a camp than anything else, right now. Work crew’s been a huge help, but it’s still very early on. I was given an estimate of a year or so, and we’re only… three, four weeks in? Something like that.”

The questions weren’t too exciting, as it turned out, mostly fishing for dry numbers, or asking for my opinion on various matters, some about Equestria and some about my speech. A few, though, were rather pointed, concerning personal relationships, competence, experience, etc. but I still managed to keep my cool. Soon, the aura around the quill petered out, stuffed into the pad to be teleported away to some far-off cubicle in an office somewhere.

“Thank you for your time, First Minister,” he said, briefly bending his knees down in what I assumed to be some sort of pony bow. “It was an absolute pleasure to speak to you today.”

“Yeah,” I dismissed. “Heard that twice already today. No wonder you aristos keep flapping your mouths at me, if it’s so ‘pleasurable’ to hear yourselves speak.” I shot him a smirk. “Still, nice talking to you.”

Heartstrings actually laughed at this. “Ha! Oh, Maker! No wonder her Highness shunted Prince Blueblood off to you! I suspect he might be plotting to gut you in your sleep, with the way you treat the nobility!”

“He’s been polite enough when I speak with him,” I said, bemused. “Then again, I am pretty close to the Princess, myself. Maybe he just wants to avoid a spanking from his dear auntie.”

His laughter intensified. The nearby ponies seemed to be avoiding paying attention to us, I noticed, which was a bit of a surprise. Heartstrings – now snorting quite hilariously himself – was acting quite undignified, after all, a big no-no for posh twat gatherings the world over. I reckoned at least a few dirty looks would have been thrown his way… but, in fact, not one person in the room was looking at us.

Finally, Heartstrings recovered enough to speak. ‘Easily amused’ was a label I didn’t think would have applied to someone like him, and yet… “Spanking… heh, that’s, that’s a new one, I’ll say. Heh… I shall have to pitch that to the satirists…”

“Uh-huh. I’ll leave that to you, then. Good day, Lord Heartstrings.” With a wave of a hoof, I was dismissed from the conversation, and eagerly made my way out of the ballroom. With nothing else on my agenda for the day, I cut out the middleman, and asked for directions back to the guest quarters, to my room. (Seriously, the palace was practically a third of Canterlot by itself, going by how many fucking corridors it had in it.)

I barged through the door to my temporary lodgings and threw myself onto my bed before exhaustion could overtake me. Christ Almighty, but that was a pain in the arse and a half. Checking the time, I saw that barely an hour had passed, and yet it felt like I’d been stuck in there for the entire day. Still, I did need to note down what I’d learned in there before it all slipped my mind, useful or not.

Upper Crust, good, that’ll be handy. Fancy… eh? Just something about a mess, I think? Probably something in Canterlot, could still be useful though as a reference. And Heartstrings, got more out of me than vice versa, but at least I’ll get an article in the paper from it. As I finished jotting down as much as I could pull from memory, one final realisation caught up with me… I’ve neglected to ask what they actually thought about my situation, haven’t I?

The slap of my palm hitting my face was almost audible from Day Court.

“So, for the most part, that was one big fat waste of my fucking time,” I summarised, to Celestia’s endless amusement.

My time in Canterlot had come to an end. It had been over a week since the Summer Sun – technically, I was supposed to already be back home, but my efforts to squeeze what I could out of the less stuck-up residents of Canterlot had been much less than successful, and I had decided to spend an extra two days trying my luck in some of the many suburbs of Canterlot, lower down the mountain. It was two days that had gone down the shitter. At the very least I was still treated to some decent palace cuisine while I was dithering.

“I would have thought you would have considered this as a vacation from your duties,” said Celestia.

“That’s because you’re projecting, Princess.” I paused, frowning. “Although… I suppose you’d have been right, for the first two days.” Besides… what duties?

We were standing outside, in one of the palace’s many gardens, with enough open space to accommodate the carriage I was waiting for – and had been waiting for, for about half an hour. The sun was still low on the horizon, the early morning providing a nice cool air that took much of the bite out of the summer. Celestia had accompanied me to send me off; when it became obvious we’d be waiting here for a while, she’d sat down on the grass and asked about my time in the city. My review was less than glowing.

The Summer Sun, of course, was good, and not just because I’d spent it with a friend. The whole rest of my efforts, though… The noble party was much less useful to me than it could have been, partially due to my own damn idiocy in forgetting to ask my own questions, but I did get valuable context from it, as well as a bit of an insight as to how the court of the Diarchy worked – and, to a lesser extent, thought. Not to mention the ‘interview’ Heartstrings had gotten out of me, which I’d actually read about in the Canterer the day after, where it was framed as ‘an insight into the inner workings of Equestria’s hottest topic,’ or something to that effect. It was surprisingly flattering, which came as a nice surprise. Evidently I’d gotten into his good graces.

“Ah,” she nodded, sagely. “You are right. Anything can be made enjoyable with a friend, after all.”

“…Yeah, sure.” Whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean.

Asking the common pony, however, turned out to be an exercise in utter pointlessness. Apparently, I’d been too quick to dismiss my earlier hypothesis that there weren’t any commoners in Canterlot at all – because, in a way, it was correct. Of course, there were ponies living and working in Canterlot besides the upper class; the waiters, street sweepers, mailponies, and so on. It was just that, on the whole, they just didn’t give half a shit. Many, many questions were answered with an ‘I don’t know,’ or just a shrug, or even a ‘Who cares?’ I couldn’t believe it. The general feeling was that things were just fine as they were – Canterlot was doing fine, after all, and the Princess is still in charge, so why bother?

That was the biggest mistake I’d made in my assumptions, it seemed. The apathy of the common citizen was not something I’d really noticed, until now, although all the signs were there even in my first days here; an alien spat out from a dimensional wedgie should probably have been bigger news than it turned out to be. Now, with two years behind me, and without my situation clouding my mind, I finally recognised it for what it was – a tyranny of the status quo. As long as a pony gets food, friends and a bed to sleep in, well. That’s good enough for them, isn’t it.

Just like it was back home.

“Adam?” A wing brushed against my chin, tearing my defeated stare away from the ground and to her face, again full of concern. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.” I rubbed at my eyes, trying to wipe the fatigue from them. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just...” I couldn’t bring myself to elaborate. Back my gaze went to the floor. “Just thinking.”

Haven’t we been here before? Depressing as it was that I seemed to be the only one to give a shit, I had better things to worry about now. I’d been away from the Free State for too long; Construct no doubt had gotten much done in that time… perhaps even more migrants had arrived since then. News travelled deceptively fast in Equestria, as I’d found. Perhaps she’d even read the excerpts from the Summer Sun herself. I needed to get back there, stat.

Bloody bus services, I grumbled. Even in magical horse land, they’re fucking late. Thanks, Celestia.

“…Perhaps I could convince you to stay a little longer?” Her wing brushed up against my arm, making me shudder involuntarily.

I pushed the wing off of me. “No,” I said. “I need to get back home. Christ only knows what’s happened in my absence. I’ve spent enough time here already.” Spotting her coy smile, I put the pieces together. “Oh. You were making another pass at me, right?”

She stepped forward. “...What would you say if I was?”

I snorted. “You know, Cel, if I didn’t know any better I’d almost say you actually have some kind of interest in me.” I pushed her wing off me again. “Just can’t let those jokes go, can you?”

“Jokes?” said Celestia, sounding suitably offended.

“First the Free State, then the crack about calling you Mummy,” I listed. “Christ, I hope you don’t read the Canterer. If you come over next time and tell me I’ve been a very naughty boy, I swear to God I’ll declare war there and then.”

A dangerous gleam came into her eyes, then, her head dipping down to invade my personal space. “…I didn’t take you for that kind of person, Adam. Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

“Like I said.” The telltale sound of whooshing air preceded the appearance of a flying carriage from behind a nearby tower. “I hope you aren’t a fan of the Canterer.” Finally, my ride was here. I dislodged myself from Celestia and pretended to dust myself down. I was quite looking forward to getting out of my suit.

The carriage landed, and the door swung open. This time, Blueblood had insisted that I try out an open-top, so I didn’t need the open door to see his smug face leering at me. I bit my lips to stop my laughter bubbling up as I stepped up and into my seat. “What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said, thick with suppressed amusement. “It’s nothing.” I waved to Celestia, who returned it with a wing. “Thank you for having me, your Majesty. Until next time.”

“Until next time,” she echoed, watching Blueblood and I take to the air.

“Fuck me, am I glad to be going home,” I told Blueblood, as Canterlot grew distant behind us. “Some peace and quiet is exactly what I need after the big city.”

…

The afternoon sun shone brightly on the meadows of the west. The open-top flight was surprisingly pleasant, considering my profound fear of heights. The fact I was strapped in about as securely as physically possible helped a lot – my harness looked more like something out of a BDSM catalogue, which definitely helped keep the fact I was about nine hundred metres in the air out of my mind. Blueblood, too, was being much more pleasant than he had any right to be. A week and change in Canterlot had done wonders for his attitude. Probably all those cocaine tastings, or whatever he likes doing so fucking much when he leaves.

“…Jet Set has always been the more respected of the two,” Blueblood was saying. “He gives recommendations to the Princess every four months along with the rest of the committee, which gives him considerable influence over policy. Of course, his alliance with Fancy Pants also helps in that regard, giving him an actual connection to the merchant class, not to mention his own connections with the griffons…”

If there was one thing Blueblood had going for him, it was his intimate knowledge of court intrigue. Not a big shocker to me, since he was practically born and bred for it – and might well have been literally so – as well as having a familial relationship with the monarch. Truth be told, he was growing on me; acting more like an annoying roommate than a stuck-up jackass was doing wonders. Still loved the sound of his own voice, though.

“…never a very warm relationship,” he continued. “To him, Lady Upper Crust was simply a means of consolidating influence and power over the nobility, and not any real feeling. She gained her title from the marriage, and Lord Jet Set gained her contacts. It was merely a mutually beneficial partnership…”

I had little use for the information, though. Perhaps this would have been more useful before I’d crashed that party, but that was long ago already, and I wasn’t planning on going back any time soon. Right now, I was using him as a noise generator, to drown out my own thoughts, more than as a fountain of intrigue. Judging by how he kept going, though, it was clear he was used to that sort of reaction.

“…heard from High Roller that he was nearly caught by a pair of Court’s Eyes in an affair with-”

“Your Highness! First Minister!” A call came from our drivers that cut Blueblood’s spewing short. “We’re nearing our destination. Five minutes to landing.”

“Excellent,” I said. “Can’t wait to get home, I’m starving.”

“Already? Didn’t you have breakfast with the Princess before you left?”

“Yeah, I did. Right at the crack of dawn. It’s about three o’clock, now.”

A second call from the guardsponies broke us out of our bickering. “Landing zone in sight. We’re starting our des-” Abruptly, the call was cut off. The carriage veered off to the left.

“What’s happening?” asked Blueblood, alarmed.

Silence.

“Guardsman,” I called, raising my voice. “What’s happening in my Free State?” I leaned out to the side, peering over the edge. The forest was just now coming into sight, along with my cabin, now with a few additions… except now, its surroundings were writhing in movement.

“Eyes on ponies,” called the second guardsman. “Landing zone obstructed. We’re being flagged down, pegasus, brown coat.”

“Set us down as close as you can,” I called. “That’s my second. I’ll jump down if I have to.”

“Sir?”

“What?” The guardspony didn’t seem nearly as concerned as he probably should have been. Blueblood was much more animated, visibly restraining himself from leaping to his feet. “You cannot be serious!”

“Shush,” I said, unbuckling myself from my seat. “Three metre drop is nothing I can’t walk off. Something is seriously fucked here, which means it’s my fuckin’ problem now.” I didn’t dare stand up properly, but I did lean much of my torso out from the carriage. We were nearing a touchdown now, only a hundred metres or so from the ground, though still a fair distance from my house. I waited for a few moments, to make sure my voice wouldn’t get lost along the way.

“Make way for the carriage!” I bellowed, pushing as much volume out of my throat as I possibly could. “Make way!” My calls were soon joined by the guardsponies. The cabin loomed larger and larger in my view. The mass of colour around it steadily resolved into groups, then individual ponies. A hole was forming in the congregation – too slowly. “Make some room, goddamnit!”

“First Minister!” I heard Construct’s voice call out, first to me, then to those around her. “Clear out, already! That carriage needs to set down!”

Finally, room was made for a landing, and we soon touched down to the ground. I all but leapt out of the carriage, almost not even bothering with the door, and stormed over to Construct. “First Minister,” she said by way of greeting. “About time you got here. I stalled them for as long as I could.”

“What’s the situation here?” I asked immediately.

“These ponies are asking to live here,” she said, simply.

…

Holy shit.

I looked at the gaggle of ponies surrounding us. Tens, dozens, hundreds of ponies stared back. Earth, unicorn, pegasus, green, blue, red, big, small, everything in between. A veritable smorgasbord of ponykind was staring me in the face.

“…Clarify?” I said, weakly.

“They want housing, food, work, what more clarification do you need?” replied Construct, more heatedly.

I inhaled. News travels fast, huh… A week and change made more difference than I cared to admit. Now, staring hundreds of uncertain, nervous ponies in the face no matter which way I looked, only one thought made itself clear in my mind.

Fuck.

10. Interlude – Ripped from the Headlines

The Canterer
Equestria’s #1 Newspaper

26 June, ALW 998

Still 1 bit!

998TH SUMMER SUN SURPRISE SPEAKER SHOWCASE SUCCESS

This year’s Summer Sun Celebration has once again gone off without a hitch, right in the heart of Equestria. The official celebration, held in Canterlot, was attended by approximately five hundred thousand ponies, with informal street parties held in cities and towns throughout Equestria estimated to have drawn upwards of nine million attendees.

The customary Sunrise Speech given by the Princess was joined this year by a surprise visitor – one Adam Inns, the human who appeared in Canterlot two years previously. In it, he revealed that the Princess had decided to play one of her many beloved pranks on the human – but the joke quickly grew fangs, as a family of five soon found themselves at the door of the First Minister’s new state, which, the human tells, appeared to strike him with an epiphany, resolving to use his newfound position to ‘change lives for the better.’

The speech appeared to resonate with the crowd, composed primarily of tourists and out-of-town visitors, with 78% of those polled approving of the sentiment. Regardless, the celebration was as boisterous as ever, with drink flowing freely and music ringing for the duration of the festival.

However, the event had its critics, who decried the speech as ‘a blatant attack on the Equestrian status quo’ and ‘a challenge to [the government’s] capacity to provide for [its] subjects.’ Others point out the close proximity between the new First Minister and the Princess, cautioning that the close relationship may cloud the diarch’s judgment – a considerable sentiment, according to eye-witnesses, who described the behaviour of the two rulers during the celebration as ‘flirtatious’ and ‘intimate,’ although others say it is merely tabloid exaggeration…

[cont. p.4]

EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW WITH FIRST MINISTER OF FREE STATE

The Canterer has acquired an exclusive interview with the First Minister of the new Free State of the White Tail Woods. Conducted by editor-in-chief Lord Tugged Heartstrings, the interview covers the early and current life of the First Minister, his relationship to the Princess and the Free State, as well as his opinions on the current situation of Equestria and how he intends to change it for the better.

TH: How did you become First Minister?

FM: Like I said in my speech. I made a bad joke to a Guards[pony], who decided to involve [Princess Celestia] in the situation. She was the one to create my position. And, uh… the joke ran on a little longer than I expected it to.

TH: How would you describe your Free State as it is now?

FM: A work in progress. It’s more of a camp than anything else, right now. [The Equestrian w]ork crew’s been a huge help, but it’s still very early on. I was given an estimate of a year or so, and we’re only… three, four weeks in? Something like that.

TH: What made you commit to your course of action regarding the Free State?

FM: You mean the ‘taking the huddled masses in’ bit? Well… that’s a little personal. I was against the whole idea at first, in fact. [Princess] Celestia, of course, kept prodding at me, by way of [Prince] Blueblood, but in the end, it was all because of just one regular mare. She just looked so… lost, I guess. And when I agreed to give her a place to stay, well… the utter joy she felt was something I can’t quite put to words…

[cont. p6]

COLORATURA: I HAVE NO INTENTION OF HERDING

Countess Coloratura, the famous pop-singer of the Celestial Coast, has gone on record to deny the allegations levied against her regarding Starry Skies’ herd. “I have not ever had, and will never have, any intention of joining any herd,” said the singer, in response to accusations of ‘emotional bribery’ from the herd’s lead mare, Whitejay. “That is not who I am.”

Coloratura’s spectacular career has recently been marred by many such allegations of public misconduct. Earlier this year, she made headlines for a particularly ambivalently-received single, believed to have come about as a result of an earlier relationship having gone sour. Only one month later, she was briefly held for questioning by the Royal Guard, in connection to a particularly strange case of stalking against another stallion, who remains anonymous. However, Coloratura denies any involvement.

This time, however, the pop singer has gone on the offensive against the accuser. “She is clearly the wrong lead mare for Starry,” said Coloratura. “How can anyone look at their relationship and call that ‘romance?’” Starry Skies was unavailable for comment…

[cont. p.14]

NEW BUDGET APPROVED

The yearly Equestrian budget has finally been approved, after almost five months stuck in a deadlock. This year’s holdup stemmed primarily from an eighty-million bit increase in defence spending, an 18% increase from the previous year, which was vetoed by the Chancellor of Foreign Affairs, stating that the increase was ‘antagonistic and unnecessary.’ The proponents of the increase did not give ground, however, leading to continual vetoes.

The deadlock eventually became dire enough for the Crown to intervene directly. In an emergency committee lasting a record fifty-two hours, the Council of Chancellors each gave their views to the Princess, who eventually decided to commit to the budget, and the increase in defence spending, though declining to give a reason for the public record.

The major expenses remain infrastructure projects (12%), civil and Crown servant expenses (22%), and research and development grants (19%). With the new budget, defence spending grew to just under a percent. Recent spending cuts affected education (down 0.4%) and foreign aid projects (down 1.5%)…

[cont. p.10]

COLD WEATHER MIS-SCHEDULING

‘Snowballs: Better Chances in Appleloosa,’ reads an irreverent regional headline from the South of Equestria. According to local Weather Chancellery representatives, a slip-up during handling of weather and climate schedules pushed the Appleloosan area’s weather forecast forward by seven months, causing temperatures to drop as low as 1° Celestius, leading to the quintessentially unlikely event of snowfall in June, in the warmest city in Equestria.

The scheduling slip was allegedly caused by an influx of new, less experienced workers at the local weather factory, exacerbated by a lack of effective administrative training in the region. Luckily, the mistake was soon corrected, localised only to Appleloosa and the surrounding villages. The administrator of the Weather Chancellery’s Southern section was reportedly apoplectic. “Why would possibly have they carried the schedules out in the first place? Didn’t they think it was at least a little odd having to mix snow in June?”

[more p.19]

DEVOLUTION MAKES INROADS IN THE SOUTH

Proponents of the Devolution policy have won surprise victories in the recent mayoral elections of Las Pegasus and Dodge City. The news comes as a surprise to pollsters, which had predicted a landslide for the conservative incumbents in both constituencies. “It’s a welcome surprise, for sure,” said Leading Edge, the new mayor of Dodge City. “It just goes to show, the people want to be heard.”

“It’s a sign of the changing times,” said Brown Nose, Edge’s counterpart in Las Pegasus. “We are no longer content with the mere basics. I think it’s a good sign for the future…”

[cont. p.27]

CANTERLOT CATCHERS: DOWN, BUT NOT OUT?

The Canterlot Catchers have once again struck out of the national hoofball tournaments, ending the season in 12th place. Despite their dismal performance, however, team morale remains high. “Don’t count us out just yet,” said Quick Throw, the manager of the team. “We might not have made it up high, but the rebound shot always goes in the net!”

[more p.25]

11. Growing Pains I – Be Careful What You Wish For

“First things first!” I shouted over the heads of the mass of ponies in front of me. “Form up in lines! Let’s get this done quick, lads!” The gaggle dutifully shuffled their hooves, quickly lining up in uneven, yet orderly rows wide enough for me to move through. “Good, good! Blueblood, if you’d kindly?” A quill levitated over to my waiting fingers. “Thank you. Construct, headcount?”

“One moment,” she said, immediately trotting off into the mass. A few minutes passed before I heard her call out, “Five hundred thirty eight, First Minister!”

“Five hundred…” I dutifully jotted the figure down. That… was a lot of people to be depending on me. I couldn’t let it get to me. Not in front of them. “Right. That makes… two dozen, Construct, Blue and Lyra… Hooves too… five hundred seventy one people here. Including myself. Fuck me.

“Right!” I called next. “As you might all already know, I am First Minister Adam Inns of the Free State. Right now, on this patch of land, what I say goes. I might have been granted this position by the grace of her Majesty, Princess Celestia, but if any of you fuck with me, it’ll be me kicking your arse back to the pits of Hell, understood? Excellent.” I gestured to my entourage at my sides, consisting of Blueblood, Construct and Lyra. “Ambassador?” I prompted, at which he quickly stepped forwards, casting a gaze out to the masses.

“This is Ambassador Blueblood, the Free State’s connection to the Equestrian Diarchy. If you’ve got a problem with anything back home, or if back home has a problem with you, it’ll be him you will need to talk to. Likewise, if you’re not a Free State citizen, and you cause trouble here, it’ll be him talking me down from throwing your arse out of here.”

Next, I gestured to Construct, who quickly took his place. “This is Sturdy Construct. She’s the one in charge of building your houses, farms, barns, wells, piping, absolutely everything you’ll ever need to live here. In my absence, and with the lack of anyone more qualified, she’s in charge. Give her any crap, and I’ll know – assuming she doesn’t kick the rest of it out of you for me. Likewise with the employees under her.”

As for Lyra, well… she was content with hiding behind me. I couldn’t think of anything major she might be useful for at this stage, and she hadn’t volunteered for anything. I let it rest for the time being, instead stepping forwards myself.

“Now!” The crowd refocused on me. “With our introductions out of the way, we need to get to yours. Once I know who you are, that’ll be it for the day. Tomorrow morning, ten o’clock, at the sawmill – be there, I’ll decide what to do with all of you. Construct, Blueblood, Lyra.” The trio turned to me expectantly. I handed out a few sheets of parchment to each, trusting Blueblood to have enough brains to magic up some quills and ink to go with them – which he did at once. Smart cookie. “I’ll need your help to do this quickly. I want a full name, tribe, age, physical description, and a special talent for each pony, where applicable. Try to group family members together, if you can.” Each nodded, their implements already in their magic, or wings (somehow) and mouth for Construct, as they set off for the rows upon rows of ponies waiting expectantly.

Dutifully, I moved forward to the first row myself, quill and parchment in hand, and up to the first pony along. “Alright,” I muttered. “Earth pony, dull green coat, dark grey mane… cutie mark of…”

“A beaver’s tail,” supplied the pony.

“Beaver’s tail,” I noted. “Stallion… name?”

“Snapper,” he said.

“That your full name?” I asked, to which he nodded. “Alrighty… age?”

“Thirty-one.”

“Aaand special talent?”

“I, uh, I can buck trees down real easy.” He didn’t sound terribly confident in himself. Was that something that was looked down on? I chuckled, nevertheless.

“Oh, you’ll fit right in here, I’m sure. You got anyone else with you here?”

He took a moment to swallow before replying. “…No.”

“Alrighty.” One down… one hundred and thirty something to go. “That’s all I need to know. You’re free to go. Sawmill at ten o’clock tomorrow, don’t forget.” I stepped sideways to the next pony in line, letting Snapper wander off by himself. “Next up, pegasus mare, cream coat, magenta mane...”

On and on the census went. The list of ponies in my hand grew larger and larger, soon passing a hundred entries. The rows quickly dwindled; occasionally I’d catch a glimpse of a certain two-toned cyan mane, or an immaculate white coat, or some dirty-brown wings that’d seen better days, working the rows up ahead and trimming them down just as quickly.

Soon, only a few ponies were left in line. The sun was now hanging low in the sky, casting a magnificent crimson streak in the air that barely cleared the treetops. The third-to-last pony on my last row had just finished up, and stretched out his legs, tired from sitting in one spot for over an hour. Stepping sideways, I began my inspection… of a patch of grass above a tiny pony’s head. Adjusting my gaze…

“Er…” A foal was staring up at me with big brown eyes. “Hey there, kid… brown coat, deep green and yellow mane, earth pony. Cutie mark… nope.” I turned to the last pony in line, next to them. “They’re yours, right?”

“No.” They shook their head.

I blinked. “Seriously?” I looked around, trying to find any pony looking for a missing child of theirs, but no dice. I turned back to the kid, still staring up at me with those damn eyes. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Silent Wish,” said the foal.

“Where are your parents, Wish?”

“I don’t have any parents,” said the foal.

…

Oh Jesus fucking Christ. You’ve got to be kidding me. “Then… don’t you have anyone to take care of you? No legal guardian? Sibling, aunt, uncle, cousin? Anyone?”

Wish made to shake her head, but her eyes lit up at the last moment. “Oh! Sky Gale used to give me bread before he told me to come here. Does that count?”

Sky Gale… checking my list over revealed no such name. I could only hope that he was in one of the rows I didn’t get to… before the rest of the sentence passed my idiot brain and dashed those hopes to nothing.

Fuck. Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it all to hell. I sighed explosively, and lowered my parchment to my side. “No,” I said. “No, it doesn’t. Alright, kid. Look… ah… just, stick with me for now, okay? Can you do that, Wish?”

“Okay,” said Wish, nodding enthusiastically. Immediately, she scampered to my side, pressing herself against my left leg.

“Yeah…” was the only word that could escape me. “Okay, one last pony. Unicorn, ah… mare, pink-white coat, dirty blonde mane… cutie mark of… is that a sparkler?”

“That’s a firework,” she explained.

“Ah, I see. Firework… let me guess, your special talent is…?”

“Pyrotechnics manufacturing,” she said, rather pointedly.

I tutted. “Darn. I owe myself ten bits. Making fireworks, then. And your name and age?”

“Rose Tick,” she said. “And forty-three.”

“Hmm. Odd name, but whatever. Alrighty,” I concluded, tucking the quill away in a pocket somewhere, drying it off. “Remember, sawmill at ten tomorrow. You can go.”

With my final pony recorded on the paper, I could finally take a breath and survey my surroundings. Construct was still struggling through her load, though it was nearing its end with only a dozen ponies left for her, with Blueblood quickly hopping in from the opposite side. Lyra had already finished her work, and was watching the pair.

My footsteps on the grass were louder than I thought; I didn’t even have to call her name for her to turn to me… and immediately drop her gaze to the foal at my side. I could practically see her heart break.

“Lyra?”

She didn’t bother to look up at me. “You too?”

“What?” As if to reply, another foal peeked out from behind Lyra, looking my way. This one was a grey little thing – grey coat, grey mane, grey eyes, grey wings. His inquisitive stare bored into my own dying eyes. “Oh,” was all that came to me.

Apparently, things could only ever get more depressing in the Free State. Two little foals had somehow found their way to me, alone, along with the five hundred other ponies with nowhere else to go.

“Your sheet, please,” I said, trying to divert my mind from the situation. Her parchment lit up cyan, and fluttered over to my waiting palm. Reading it over revealed nothing out of the ordinary… except for one entry near the middle, missing an age – just like my own was for Wish, I realised.

“So… you must be… Bowmound?” I said, to which the grey foal immediately perked up at, and nodded. “How old are you?”

“I’m eight and three quarters!”

“And you, Wish?”

“I’m nine and a half!” She even stuck her tongue out at the colt. I jotted the figures down with a sigh.

“Right.” Construct and Blueblood were just about finishing up, finally. All five hundred plus new residents of the Free State had been catalogued. Construct turned to face us as we approached, a certain tightness in her posture that only grew stronger as she took note of the foal at my side. “Yeah,” I said. “It’s a bit of a mess, ain’t it? Your sheet, please. Yours too, Ambassador.” I quickly snatched up their offered parchments, rolling them up together and putting them in an inside pocket.

“What do you need from us now, First Minister?” asked Construct.

Once again, I sighed. “Okay. Okay.” ‘A bit of a mess’ didn’t do it justice. I steadied my breathing, willing my heart rate to lower and my hands to stop shaking without success. “Okay. Lyra, could you kindly keep the foals occupied for a while? Construct, Blueblood, to my cabin, please.”

“Of course, sire,” said Lyra. “Alright, Wish, Bowmound, come over here please…” Her voice, and the foals’, petered out as I neared, then entered my cabin, holding the door open for my two partners. I locked it shut behind me.

We didn’t move out from the hallway. None of us spoke for a long while. None of us seemed to be able to put our thoughts to the air. Construct shook her head in dismay, the lines etched into her face working to age her up about thirty years. Blueblood looked between the two of us worriedly, trying occasionally to work his jaw.

I was dumbstruck. It had barely been a week since I’d said my piece, and already over five hundred souls had made the journey to the Free State. Why on Earth would so many people be so willing to throw themselves at my feet, so quickly?

“Fuck,” I summarised. My two companions only nodded. When I saw that it wasn’t enough to kickstart an actual conversation, I continued. “This is all… just, fucked. Fucked, I tell you.”

“You brought this upon yourself, First Minister,” reminded Blueblood. “Was this not the whole purpose of your appearance at the Summer Sun Celebration?”

“I didn’t think there’d be so many so soon!” I exclaimed. “Fuck me, if I’d known I’d have gotten five hundred fucking mouths to feed inside a week I’d have waited until I could actually feed them, yeah?”

“You,” said Construct, “are an idiot.”

I sighed explosively, letting myself sag in place. “Yes,” I ground out. “I am. Fine, whatever. Call me whatever you like. I’ve got to unfuck this shitshow. Any ideas?”

Construct was silent.

“Anyone?”

So was Blueblood.

“Anything?”

…

“…Oh, fucking hell.” I practically slammed my palms onto my face, worming my fingers under my glasses to work at my eyes, trying to rub the fatigue out of them. “Fine, one thing at a time then. Start from the beginning and see what we can make work from it.” I fished the lists back out from my pocket and skimmed through them. “Let’s see… how many foals do we have here…?”

“I counted seven,” said Construct.

“I saw two,” said Blueblood.

I quirked an eyebrow. “Wow, your memories are good. I only got the one. So Lyra’s list has… er, twelve, looks like. So that makes… twenty-two kids, including the two… orphans. Five-three-eight minus two-two… five hundred and sixteen adults.

“First off: where do they sleep? Construct?”

She drew herself up, as if to stand at attention before a drill sergeant. “We are in far too early a stage of development to be able to house all of your residents. Currently, we have eleven houses and two storage depots suitable for habitation, as well as two houses under construction.”

“How many can you fit in the depots?” I asked.

“Minimum of fourteen,” answered Construct. “Maximum of thirty-seven. Depending on how much other material we have stored.”

“So, worst case is…” This time, I did the maths in my head. “Seventy-two ponies? And best case is a hundred eighteen?”

“Like I said, sir,” said Construct, utterly flatly. “You are an idiot.”

“Leave off it, Construct,” I barked. “Now is not the time. Does every other pony sleep outside? How much do they pack themselves in?”

“Pack themselves in?” parroted Blueblood. Construct shared his confusion.

“Yes,” I said. “Pack them in. Sleeping outside is the very worst case scenario. There’s plenty of room in a house, if they don’t mind sleeping on the floor; at the very least they’ll be under a roof. I don’t know how pony physiology works, but exposure in bad weather kills a human pretty quickly, and no mistake. Four ponies to a house is a gross under-utilisation of indoor space, particularly in a crisis like this one.”

“That’s… not something I can recommend, First Minister,” tried Construct.

I was having none of it. “I don’t give a fuck. Get as many ponies sleeping indoors as possible. If there’s still not enough room, then… I dunno, bang up some fabric canopies or something. Anything will do, really. Even sleeping under a tree, if necessary.”

Eventually, Construct relented. “…I’ll see what I can do.”

“Excellent. Now, the next thing. Food. How much do we have before shit hits the fan?”

“Much of the last harvest still remains,” said Construct. “However, five hundred ponies will empty our reserves rapidly. I estimate about three weeks before it runs out.”

“Bugger.” That was very, very bad news. My food grew fast, to be sure, but three weeks was a pipe dream and a half. My next harvest, I thought, was likely to come about sometime in the middle of autumn. Early October, if I was lucky… November, if not. That was a lot longer than three weeks… everyone would have starved by then. “That’s… actually really bad fucking news. What can we do to make it stretch?”

“For how long?”

“Until… worst case, next harvest, late autumn. Best case, we can ask for some help, or scrounge up all our cash and buy in bulk from Las Pegasus or somewhere, along the way.”

“How much do you have?” Blueblood was the one to ask this.

I frowned. “Assuming our residents don’t chip in – or can’t – about two thousand in bits, and another two or three thousand in valuables.”

“Four thousand… that might buy you another month.”

I nodded. “Good. That’s a little more manageable. We’ll still have to ration carefully… how much could we forage from the surroundings?” A thought struck me, one which I really should have come up with earlier. “Wait! You’re ponies, right? Can’t you just eat grass?”

“Seriously?” Neither pony in front of me approved. Blueblood in particular looked at me like I was rotting scum. I quickly took the hint, a creeping pinkness coming to my cheeks.

“Ah… I suppose not, then. But still, I’ve seen you folk eat flowers, ones humans definitely can’t. About how much could we get from the forest, and the fields?”

“That depends,” said Construct, still staring at me like I was an apocalyptic moron. “If the field is as inert in the forest as it is here, then probably not much.”

“Worst case?” I prompted.

“I’d say… maybe enough for twenty, twenty-five. It’ll give us an extra few days at least.”

“Every little helps,” I agreed. “We’ll just have to hope it’s not as bad as that. Distribution?”

“...Distribution?” both ponies parroted.

“We’ll need to ration very carefully. Squeeze out as much time as possible.” I grimaced. “I hate to use the term ‘starvation rations,’ but, if worse comes to worse, some… might have to suffer for a while.”

“You’d starve your own citizens?” exclaimed Blueblood.

“What else would you have me do?” I snapped. “It’s either feed them less now, or feed them nothing later! Unless you can fart out a banquet from your fucking horn, Mr. Magician?” Next, I blazed at Construct. “Or how about you, Builder Bob? Care to hammer up some fucking banana plantations?”

“Do you believe your subjects will stand for that?” asked Construct, completely unfazed.

Her flat tone made me pause. “…You have a good point,” I conceded. “The border’s open, after all. Either they’ll leave now, when I tell them, or later when they actually start starving. Either way, at least no-one will actually die.”

“You’re telling them you intend to starve them?” asked Blueblood, incredulously.

“You think they don’t deserve to know?” I asked back, a little heated. “Who the fuck do you take me for, Ambassador? I’m not gonna withhold food from starving ponies just for fun, you idiot! If there’s a good fucking reason for me to do it, then they can be fucking told it, yeah?”

“I apologise,” he said immediately. “It was not my intention to insinuate such. I merely question the wisdom of such a move.”

“Wisdom or not, it’s the right thing to do,” I dismissed with a wave of the hand. “We’ll need to expand our crop fields quick. Not to mention… the…” Oh God damn it. Only now you come up with it, Inns, you moron. “Construct.”

“Yes, First Minister?” She looked alarmed, at my sudden trailing off. Blueblood tilted his head.

“Congratulations,” I intoned. “I’ve just found you an extra five hundred motivated workers.”

“Sir?” A blank look was all I got. It was one I returned… for exactly as long as it took for comprehension to dawn. “That… that would certainly speed things up.” Then, a crinkle on her forehead. “But they won’t be very effective workers if you aren’t able to feed them properly.”

“I know.” I sighed. “We’ll have to prioritise certain groups for first pick of the food supplies. Can’t work on empty stomachs, after all…” I put a hand to my chin, eyes unfocusing. “Children and the elderly go first, of course. Then… a little more for parents, perhaps, just in case. Then, the most useful workers get more food. Anyone who can’t, or won’t work, gets rationed. It’ll deplete our stocks a little faster,” I grimaced again, “but it’ll have to do. Oh, and Construct, I’m afraid you’ll have to get your and your workers’ food from the Crown, from now on.”

“Of course, First Minister,” she said, nodding to me. “I’ll remind you, though, that it will slow the transportation of other materials down.”

“We can worry about that later,” I dismissed. “Right now, we need to make sure no pony here starves to death. And doesn’t die of exposure, either.” I put a hand to my forehead. A pressure in my head had snuck up on me while I wasn’t paying attention, and the headache was now here in force. “Ah, fuck me… what a total shitshow. I can’t-”

A knock on the door stopped me cold. Before I could snap out of it, Blueblood magicked the door unlocked, and opened it. Lyra, on the other side, blinked, not expecting me to not have opened it myself, but quickly recomposed herself, and stepped inside – a particular pair of a gray colt and a brown filly following soon after.

“Lyra?”

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” she said. The door shut itself behind her, courtesy of the Ambassador. “It’s getting late outside, and the foals didn’t have anywhere to sleep.”

“Of course they didn’t,” I grumbled. “Well, if nothing opens up, they can stay here. Which reminds me,” I snapped my fingers. “Plenty of floor space in here, too. Stick some ponies in here as well, Construct.”

“In your own home?” Construct asked. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am.” I gave her a level stare, which cowed her pretty quickly. “I’m perfectly capable of walking my talk, sunshine. I’ll sign myself up for rations if I have to. And I’m pretty sure I will.”

“What about Wish and Bowmound?” asked Lyra. The two blinked their impossibly large eyes, right at me.

I exhaled. “I don’t know… they can sleep on the couch, I suppose.”

“But then where will you sleep?”

Lyra was the next recipient of my stare. “Where do you think? The floor, that’s where.”

Silence reigned. I looked to each pony in turn. Their faces might as well have been carved from granite – each telling a slightly different story, but still conveying the same general message: shock.

I strode past the herd into my kitchen, dismissing my entourage with a wave of the hand to my door. “Damn it all,” I muttered. “And to think, I was gonna get smashed tonight. Fat chance of that happening now, eh.” Coffee was a tempting mistress, but I knew I couldn’t; not at this late hour, or else I’d have fallen asleep at one in the morning, and been miserable for the entire day after. Not to mention that if I did that, I might have slept through the next day's meeting. I settled on some boring old water.

A tug at my pants almost made me fumble the cup, but I recovered quickly enough. The filly, Wish, was trying to get my attention. “What is it, dear?”

“Thank you, mister,” she told me. I saw the pegasus colt duck in quickly, trotting up to me as well. “For letting me stay in your house.”

“Thank you,” echoed the colt, a little quieter.

I felt my eyes sting as I leaned down and patted Wish, then Bowmound, on the head. “Believe me,” I told them. “It’s the least I can do.” I stood back up, and gestured behind them. “Now go on. Little ponies need their sleep, and I’m pretty sure it’s your bedtime. I’ll set the couch up for you in a sec.” The little ponies nodded and ran out. I finished off the rest of my water, feeling rather sleepy myself. It’s the least I can do… I sure hope it is.

The kiddos watched me work with an intense fascination, as I quickly laid out two sheets and pillows across my ‘bed.’ The pillows were on opposite sides; I figured neither wanted to catch cooties in their sleep, assuming that sort of thing was still relevant here. Fortunately, there was plenty of space for it to fit them both.

“Here you go,” I said, straightening and stepping back. “Hopefully that’ll do the job. If you need anything else, don’t be afraid to ask, either me or Lyra. Bathroom’s just before the front door, on the right.”

“Thank you mister,” chorused the two foals, clambering up and onto the couch, and into their sheets. I nodded, more to myself than anything, and stepped back out into the hallway, resting my forehead against a wall.

Jesus fuck. Today had been… a lot. The weight of five hundred people pressed down onto my shoulders, and I was nowhere near prepared for the strain. If I fucked anything at all up in the next weeks and months, people were going to die. Fuck, people were probably going to die even if I didn’t. Or they’d just leave, tell me to fuck off, and this will have been a big fat pointless waste. And then, even if they didn’t, even if everything ended up going perfectly, what then? What was I supposed to do? More were going to show up? Was I doomed to eternally chase after perfection, until the stress of it all drove me into an early grave?

I felt lost, adrift at sea. Nothing in all my short few years of life had ever prepared me for the actual, physical feeling of being responsible for the life of another. These ponies, all five-hundred and change of them, had entrusted themselves to me, with Equestria leaving them in the dust and forcing them to trust in me as their last chance at some sort of good life… and I couldn’t even feed them properly. Twenty-two kids I was responsible for, now, and I couldn’t even feed them.

A hot streak ran down my face. I startled at the unfamiliar sensation, dabbing at it with a finger. I still didn’t realise I had started crying until my glasses began to fog up from the bottom. How in the fuck Celestia had done this for all her three-thousand years of her life, I would never in a million years be able to comprehend. It hadn’t even been three hours, and already I was about to unravel.

Once more, I contemplated surrender. To simply throw my hands in the air, get Celestia on the horn and tell her to sort this shit out her own damn self. No-one would have to starve, no-one would have to sleep under the stars, I could go back to my old life reading shitty adventure novels (sappy romance bullshit was never my thing) and not have to worry about having hundreds of ponies to feed and clothe and house… who would begrudge me for making such a choice? Did I really, at the end of the day, need the approval of others? I’d made do without back home, and I’d made do without here. Could I live without Lyra’s – Celestia’s, whoever’s – forgiveness, when all is said and done, if I did choose to kick this shit to the pavement? Sure I could.

I sighed, shaking my head in despair. The problem is, could I live without mine?

“Adam?”

Absorbed in my pit as I was, I hadn’t noticed Lyra sneaking up behind me until she reached out with a hoof, tapping my shoulder. Neither had I noticed having sunk to the floor. I turned my head a little, still focusing on the same unknowable spot in the wall that had absorbed me initially. “Hey, Lyra,” I said, tiredly. “I’m sorry. You caught me at a bit of a bad time.”

“What’s wrong?”

“You really have to ask me that?” This time, I took the considerable effort to look her in the eyes. No doubt she saw the streaks of moisture on my face, judging by the pity I sensed coming off her like a stench. Back I turned to the wall, pressing my forehead against it once more. “I never asked for this,” I said, eyes screwed shut. “And it’s still all my own bloody idiot fault. Should just have stuck to an ad in a paper… what the hell was I thinking?”

A brush of fur against my ear made me jump – Lyra had actually nuzzled me. “Not all hope is yet lost, Adam,” she whispered. The rush of breath on my skin served well to re-ground me to reality. I didn’t even feel the usual crawling. “Whether you believe it or not, you have done a great service to these ponies.”

“Then why doesn’t it feel like it?” I pleaded, unmoving. “To me it feels like I’m pulling a long con on these poor fuckers! Suckering them in with false promises of a better life, only to hand them an outdoors sleeping spot with a healthy side of starvation! How can that be called a service? What, possibly, could I have given these people?”

“Hope.”

…

Lyra needed to speak only a single word to silence me. That she continued on was just the icing on the cake.

“I understand you’ve only been back here a few hours. You haven’t talked with any of these ponies yourself. Believe me, Adam, when I tell you that you’ve already changed their lives so much, just by offering. Some of those ponies have already received everything they had asked for, now. That hope… that’s a commodity that Equestria, for whatever reason, saw fit to deny them, that you’ve handed to them with a smile on your face.” Again, fur brushed against the side of my head. “Who says they have to be false promises? The lack of food and shelter? That’s a problem you can solve, Adam. Would it hurt so much to even try? I know you’re a better pony than that – a better person. A stronger person.”

I closed my eyes again. Inhaled, then exhaled. Opened them… peered at Lyra’s softly smiling face out of the corner of my eye. Shook my head in amazement.

I turned to face her fully, a smile – genuine and warm – mirrored on my own face. “Thanks,” I said. “I think I needed to hear someone else say that.” Finally, I went to the bother to wipe my eyes from the moisture that had collected on them from earlier, and staggered to my feet, overcoming a brief bout of vertigo. “I guess you’re right… wouldn’t hurt to try, would it.” I looked around, still in the hallway, peering into the kitchen – empty – then the living room – empty, except for the two kiddos. “Hmm. Would have thought Construct would have shepherded some ponies indoors by now. Well, nothin’ for it.” I turned back to Lyra. “Suppose I ought to go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Wait, Adam,” she said quickly, then shied backwards, avoiding meeting my eyes. “You could, ah, I mean… you don’t have to go to sleep on the floor… you really shouldn’t…”

“I ain’t got any futon to pull out, ya know,” I pointed out.

“I know that,” she said. “But, I mean… I could, well, share your bed? That is, I mean…”

“What, you want me to sleep together with you?” My smirk faltered only briefly, when she eventually nodded. “Gee, Lyra. You haven’t even bought me dinner yet.”

“What?” Her quizzical stare was countered by me waggling my eyebrows at her, which quickly got my message across. “O-oh… no, I don’t mean like that-”

“I know you don’t,” I relented. “Although, are you sure you’d be comfortable with it?”

“Of course,” she said, immediately. The speed of her response caught me off-guard, although in retrospect, it really shouldn’t have. Ponies, after all, were pretty big on physical affection, whereas I was much more ambivalent on the concept – enough for Lyra to pick up on it. “I-I mean, you don’t have to, if you don’t want to… I understand-”

“No, no, that’s fine. I can do that. As long as you don’t try any funny business,” I said, my smirk this time a little more forced, though still enough to get a blush out of her. “I’ll just warn you now, though, I’m a pretty… ah, shall we say, ‘vigorous’ sleeper. Don’t come complaining to me if I squish any of your delicate bits in my sleep by accident.”

“…Okay,” she said, nervously, magicking the door to my bedroom open. “You can go to bed, I’ll stay up a little longer.”

“No problem,” I said, shuffling inside, the siren song of sleep already calling out to me.

Before I knew it, I was in bed and out cold.

My first more-or-less official duty as First Minister, I thought with a certain bitter amusement, twiddling my thumbs under the roof of the sawmill. Give a speech to a crowd. Oh, Christ, when did I become a fuckin’ politician? I’d slept like a log, only woken up by Lyra just before eight. No mishaps had occurred in the night, to our knowledge, which I breathed a sigh of relief for. I had been a little more put off by the sight of ponies laying on the floor in the kitchen and hallway, before I remembered that I literally asked Construct to make that happen. That morning, the sight only filled me with resolve, rather than the crushing despair it would have the previous night.

Now, after a slightly less hearty breakfast than usual – along with about a coffee and a half, naturally – I was sat on my arse, together with Construct, ‘in’ the sawmill, waiting for ten o’clock, because to be early simply would not do. I hadn’t prepared what I was going to say; with any luck, I could pull a half-decent speech out of my arse in five minutes, as well as sculpt a half-decent one in five hours. Construct had found the sentiment quite funny.

I’d spent a few minutes walking around the… ‘settlement’ still felt a little inappropriate, but I couldn’t really call it ‘my place’ any more, not with five hundred extra chucklefucks running around. My realm? I’ll have to work on that, I think. Regardless, it did at least do wonders for my morale: hearing dozens of thank-yous for what I’d done from the newcomers filled me with a wonderful feeling that I hadn’t really felt before in my life, one I couldn’t exactly place, or name. Hopefully I’m not gonna sour all that goodwill any time soon. Not even the harsh truth of reality could dampen it.

“…only just remembered,” I was saying. “What’s happening with that doctor you invited?”

“He was called away with the cataloguers,” replied Construct. “Something about a new strain of knacker’s flu. Nothing dangerous, but it does last a while, and it’s quite contagious. I’m not entirely clear on exactly where it was found, but they did say it was somewhere outside the forest, and not near here.”

“When should I expect him to be back?”

“That depends on exactly what the flu turns out to be. If it’s similar enough to other strains, an existing shot should be fine, and he’ll be back within the day. Otherwise, they’ll have to report to Medical, which’ll be another three days or so.”

“They need to report that in person?”

“Standard procedure,” said Construct, with profound disdain. “I don’t make the rules.”

Of course. Bureaucracy. “Gotcha. Anything else to report?”

“No, First Minister.”

“Okay, good.” I checked the time; nine fifty-two. Fuck it, I’m tired of waiting. I stood up abruptly, and heard a throat clear behind me.

“Am I dismissed, First Minister?” asked Construct.

“I’m afraid not,” I replied. “I’ll need you to organise whoever wants to work for their home into a proper construction brigade.” I snapped my fingers, and inhaled sharply. “Ooh, yes. Also, anyone with the right talent for things, I’d like you to train them as well. If at all possible, I mean.”

Construct grimaced. “With respect, First Minister, that wasn’t in my job description…”

“It’s in mine,” I retorted. “Helping people out of a jam is all well and good, but at some point they’ll have to provide for themselves. I can teach the basics of how to work a field, but I don’t know how to build a house, or operate a saw, or run a farm complex. Besides, the sooner we get this mess fixed, the sooner you can go home and get paid, and the sooner I can start actually running a country, rather than a glorified refugee camp.”

“…As you wish, First Minister,” sighed Construct.

“Excellent.” I strode easily out to the closest thing I had to a proper stage – the raised platform out from under the roof, leading up to the saw itself. Beyond the set of stairs in front of me was already a throng of ponies. Construct stepped out next to me, though a step or two behind. “This everyone, you think?”

“Hmm…” Her eyes darted this way and that, the beam of her gaze like that of a lighthouse, sweeping across the whole field in just a few moments. “I think that’s the vast majority of them.”

“Close enough, you think?”

“I suppose so, First Minister.”

“Okay.” I inhaled, held it for a beat, then exhaled. Truth be told, I wasn’t even that nervous. Back at the Summer Sun, I was practically quivering at the thought of speaking to a crowd of thousands. Five hundred was still not much to sneeze at, and yet I felt practically light as air, despite – or perhaps even because of – the weight of my responsibility anchoring me to reality.

“Wait,” said Construct, blowing my speech right out of the water. “I think there’s more ponies here than we should have.”

“Huh?” Great. Nice and smooth, Inns.

“This crowd is a little large for five hundred thirty eight. It looks more like six hundred.”

I frowned, shortly, until the deduction sprang forth. “…More ponies? Wishing to join?”

“Most likely,” she agreed.

“Fine.” Inhale, hold, exhale, once more. No big deal; a short addendum at the beginning would sort them out, whatever they were. I shook my head, and focused.

“Ponies!” My call silenced the attendees at once. “Hear me now!

“First off, I humbly welcome you to your first official day of residence in the Free State. That so many of you have entrusted yourselves to my care, instead of the civilisation that has sheltered the pony race for thousands of years, ruled, created by one of your own… it swells my soul like nothing else. I swear to you all now, to those willing to stay and live here: for as long as I hold the post of First Minister, I shall devote my life and soul to you – those who would receive no such declaration from any other being, for whatever reason they may wish to conjure – to protect you, to nurture you, to raise you above and beyond what you could possibly have imagined for yourselves… if necessary, to my dying breath.

“Our first order of business!” I threw an arm out to the crowd, beckoning with my fingers in a mock ‘come here’ gesture. “If my eyes do not deceive me, I believe I see some faces that were not here yesterday! Please, if anyone was not present at yesterday’s inventory, please raise a hoof. Don’t be shy, I won’t bite!” A beat passed, before a few hooves flew high. “Construct, count, please?” I whispered.

Only seconds elapsed before, “Seventeen, First Minister.”

“Thank you.” The hooves went back down. “To those who have raised your hooves, please make your way to the side of the platform, so that I may note down your information for the registry.”

The ponies in question were terribly hesitant, heads turned downwards and eyes shifting around, though eventually they were, indeed, all in a group, a few metres down and to my right. I turned back to the main group.

“To the rest of you, our second order of business.” I sighed. This was going to make or break us. I had to be absolutely certain of what I was about to say. “I will be absolutely, unreservedly honest with all of you. When I arrived here, after the announcement at the Summer Sun Celebration, I did not expect to see five hundred ponies at my doorstep. Perhaps I was naïve to have not foreseen so many in need, but I know I was not prepared for it.

“I won’t lie. The next few weeks and months will be difficult. We do not have enough food, nor enough housing, for a hundred souls, let alone five. The problems we now face are myriad. They will push us – all of us – to our limits. Perhaps, in the end, they will prove to be insurmountable. The reality that lies ahead of us is extreme rationing and cramped quarters, under chaotic weather, in an area of Equus that is almost inhospitable to the common pony. If any of you, at any point now or in the future, choose to cut your losses and return to Equestria, I will not begrudge you for doing so.”

I ignored the jab at my leg from Construct, as well as her pointed whispering about doom and gloom. “I cannot promise it will be easy,” I continued, not missing a beat. “I cannot promise a magic wand to wave away all your troubles. All I can promise you, in fact, is blood, toil, tears, and sweat.” I paused to inhale, holding it for just a touch longer than usual. “For all that I have done, I am still only one man. I cannot do this single-handedly. I may have begun this project, but it will have to be us – all of us – that will finish it. The road will be long and difficult, make no mistake, but at its conclusion is everything that you could possibly have asked, hoped, prayed for, and more. What say you, ponies?”

Instantly, an exultant cheer blasted out from the crowd. It seemed I’d pulled off the rousing speech pretty bloody effectively. Huh. Turns out I can pull speeches out of my arse too… oh Christ, I really am a politician now, aren’t I? I pushed that thought away and raised my hands in the air, gesturing for silence – which took a rather long time to happen. It looked like morale wasn’t likely to be a problem… for today, at the very least. Thanks, Churchill.

“That brings me to our third order of business. Our current labour force consists of two dozen workponies – far too few to bring us all through to even the next autumn. I’ve laid the foundations of the Free State for you – now, it’s up to you to build the community on them. Every pony with a talent for construction, woodworking, or carpentry – either from a cutie mark or by acquired skill – form up in a group there, please.” I indicated a vague area, off some distance past the first group waiting to be registered. Ponies immediately broke ranks from the mass, making their way over.

There were… surprisingly many of them; I’d expected maybe another dozen or two, but it looked more like a full tenth were handy ponies. “Not you, just yet,” I called, seeing one of the seventeen beginning to trot off towards them. “I still need to get you on the books, please.” They dutifully returned to their group, looking sheepish. “Next, every pony with a talent for farming or gardening, in a group please.” This time, there were only a few – less than twenty. Piss. The one group that needs to be as big as possible, naturally. “Thank you kindly.

“Now, as for the rest of you.” I paused for effect, seeing a few of the remnants shuffle their hooves – either in shame or anxiety, I couldn’t really tell from here. “You have one of two options. Option one: pick one of the two groups to join, and they will teach you as much as possible about your chosen vocation, so that you may contribute to your community directly. Option two: stay where you are, and join the unskilled labour brigade, to help those that do so. Of course, you do have the option to choose neither and sit on your arses all day, but… those not doing useful work will be first on my chopping block in regards to food rationing. Make your choice accordingly.”

Urgh. I rubbed at my throat, feeling the first specks of soreness growing in it like a fungus. Too much bloody talking. “Thank you kindly for your co-operation. Let’s make this world a brighter place.” It wasn’t the best way I could have ended that speech, but I couldn’t really give a toss. Cheers rang out for it anyway, so I figured I must have done something right. I glanced at Construct, who nodded at me.

“Alrighty,” I called out, quieting the now-restless crowd once more. “I’ll now hand you over to Sturdy Construct. She’ll be the one overseeing your work here. Do as she tells you to.” I tilted my head downwards slightly, staring out at the crowd from under my eyebrows. “If you fuck with her, or with me, I’ll know. And I will make you regret it personally.” I held my gaze for a few more moments, before gesturing to the crowd for Construct. “All yours,” I told her. “I’ll report to you later for my own assignment, yeah? In case nothing else comes up, I mean.”

“As you wish, First Minister,” she acknowledged, stepping down the stairs to make her way over to the crowd personally. As for myself, I had ponies to register.

“Now, where’d I put my quill…?” I muttered, patting my pockets down in search of it. A parchment was already in my hands as I strode over to the group of newcomers, and welcomed them to the Free State.

First Minister’s work is never done, I mused, beginning to write names down. Never, ever.

12. Growing Pains II – Downward Spiral

Despite all my efforts, I could see things beginning to unravel already.

Work was proceeding apace – as well it should have with an extra few hundred quartets of hooves. Only six days in, and sleeping outdoors was now a thing of the past, though indoors was still uncomfortably cramped. The last canopy had been taken down and scrapped the last day, replaced by the foundations of our thirty-eighth house, already halfway ready. The crop field, too, was now joined by a second, enormously larger plot, farther out into the meadow away from the forest, courtesy of the farming brigade.

The whole place was now much more fit to be called an actual settlement. The new houses hugged the edge of the forest, sprawling outwards from my cabin. The two warehouses were joined by a third large building, acting as a dining hall for the residents – numbering just under seven hundred now, thanks to new arrivals. I thought it was a little bit unnecessary, in all honesty, but I wasn’t the expert on town planning. It would probably end up being converted to a cafe or something later on.

The forest itself was thinning out near the sawmill. We weren’t chopping down every single one, of course; some trees just aren’t lumber material, being too thin or soft, or just saplings, not to mention it’d be a real bummer to see another beautiful wood lost to the ravages of industry. Instead, we were pretty selective, cutting only a few down in one spot, though over a much wider area. And, of course, we did our best to replant whatever we cut down too. It wasn’t the most efficient way of doing things, but I figured it would be more sustainable over the long term.

Good news overall, one would think… if one wished to be profoundly incorrect.

We were hungry. Rationing was intense, just barely enough to keep the worst of the pangs away. Construct and her original lot were doing alright, since their necessities came from Equestria, and they were kind enough to give whatever was left over to us. Everyone else… it was rough. It was really, really difficult to be responsible for that kind of thing. Especially when I was the one to look them in the eyes and give them so little to eat personally. My own howling abyss in my stomach made it difficult to resist stuffing my own face, too.

With hunger came unhappiness. Bread and circuses… and I had neither. Ponies weren’t openly calling for my blood, if nothing else, but there were a lot of empty stares in the Free State. Lots of slumped shoulders, dragging hooves, muttering under their breaths. It disappeared pretty quickly when they were working, though, I assumed because they knew they were working to fix their miserable situation there and then, with their own four hooves slash two wings slash horn, delete where applicable. The second they clocked out, though, back it was to those same empty stares. Not everyone was so dour, thankfully, there were a few more sanguine folk with us, but still…

I was very lucky no pony had seen fit to leave yet. I didn’t for a second delude myself into thinking that it’d stay that way, of course. A week or two more of this would have broken someone, guaranteed, and once the food ran out for real that’d be it, the end, fin, that’s all folks. Equestria might not be perfect, but I’d never heard of any pony starving to death in it.

I sighed into my coffee. Least I still have that going for me, I thought. Some decent caffeine. Ponies, apparently not the biggest fans.

I had woken up alone. It was pretty late in the morning, Lyra and the two kids had already left by the time I’d stumbled out of my bedroom. My breakfast consisted of one and a half slices of bread, washed down with the coffee I was still drinking. It wasn’t nearly enough to sate, but there was nothing I could do about it.

I wasn’t looking forward to another endless day of manual labour, as good a cause as it was for. It was either gonna be another few tens of square metres of ploughing soil, or carrying another few huge trunks of wood to and fro. Both were back-breaking in their own ways, though a little less literal for the former. I was most likely going to opt for a day on the field, this time. It was getting more difficult to carry wood like that, anyway.

First things first, though. The now-empty mug of coffee I set down on the counter. First Minister duties, if any.

I stepped outside, onto the beginning wisps of what could charitably be called a street. On the opposite side sat the front of a house, a line of dirt packed down from thousands of hoof-falls separating the two of us. Main Street, I thought, with some small, strained amusement. Some ponies were already starting to give names to some of the most commonly used paths here. Main Street (or rather Mane Street – fuckin’ ponies, man) was the first to be named, by virtue of being the busiest through-way in general, since it lead to my house, the sawmill and the dining hall, all of which seemed to have begun serving as landmarks to the ponies. Right now, though, it stood empty.

I ambled my way to the sawmill, now the de-facto meeting point for new arrivals, courtesy of Ambassador Blueblood. Only a few ponies crossed my path, who gave me quick waves or nods before continuing with their duties, whatever they may have been. I returned their greetings tepidly, with simple glances. It was all I could bring myself to do.

The sawmill was usually a quieter area in the settlement, despite my earlier expectations. Everyone had a roof under their heads at night at the moment, so more construction was shunted down the priority list in favour of tilling up as massive a farm as possible. The only ponies still working here were a few of Construct’s crew – the original lads that first arrived here with her. The remainder, camped just at the foot of the stairs leading up to the platform, were the new guys, along with Blueblood himself taking quietly to them.

He was the first to turn my way, prompting the rest to also follow along. “First Minister,” he called out, as I quickly stepped up to the group. “Good morning.”

“Yeah.” I was not in the mood for pleasantries. My ‘cynical arsehole’ mode was on full blast at the moment. “What have you got for me?”

“Three ponies,” he said, “from Equestria.” Blueblood’s capacity for mathematics remained boundless; four ponies stood in front of me, indeed.

“I see that,” I said flatly. “You get their details?”

“Of course.” A scrap of paper floated over to me, which I quickly plucked from the air.

“…Mmm. Two earth, one peg… all adults… hold on, pegasus metallurgist?” I quirked my eyebrows up. “That’s not something you see every day. What are you doing coming to me?”

The new pony looked rather uncomfortable under my sudden scrutiny. “…Business went bust, sir,” came the smooth contralto voice of the pegasus. “I had nothing else to rely on. Figured I’d throw my lot in with you. If you’ll have me, that is.”

“Hmm.” I couldn’t quite put my finger on what was causing my unwarranted suspicions towards her. Probably just my poor mood. Still, I couldn’t shake it off. “Odd talent for someone with wings. Then again,” I dismissed, “we’ve had weirder. Welcome to the Free State.”

I gave them my usual spiel, the one most new arrivals got, a more compressed version of my first speech from the day after I got back. The three were impassive, but I thought I got my message across nicely. The earth ponies were suitably cowed when I, ah… established the ground rules, but the pegasus chick only stared at me as usual.

The new ponies quickly scarpered away to their new duties as I turned to Blueblood. I waited until they were out of earshot before I spoke. “They seem odd to you at all, Ambassador?”

“Not to my knowledge, no,” he replied. “They’re not wanted or anything, First Minister, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Hmm.” I remained unconvinced, though in the end I figured it didn’t really matter. Besides, it probably was nothing anyway. Just my sunny disposition handing me another few scraps of itself. “Well, thanks for your help in any case, Ambassador. Was that everything?”

“Actually, there is one more thing,” he confessed. “Miss Construct wishes to see you. She says it is urgent.”

“Urgent, huh?” Something finally comes up that needs my attention. Gosh, it’s almost like I’m important, or something. “Not important enough to go find me immediately?”

“I was only asked to pass the message along,” said Blueblood.

“Alright, alright,” I relented. “If I see her, I’ll ask her. Thanks for your help, Ambassador.”

We parted ways. Blueblood trotted off to… somewhere. I still had no idea exactly what his duties entailed, when I wasn’t the one handing them out to him. I hoped for his sake he at least took some interesting books with him when he got here. Regardless, it was time to get started on my own work.

The second, great big fuck-off field of food.

Half the population of the Free State was here, working their flanks off to try to scrape out a living from this land. It was… almost gratuitous, how rabid we were in regards to it, though the reasons for it were self-evident. Many, many ponies were busy tilling rows of dirt, followed soon by those who planted seeds, or seedlings, or what have you. A few were talking one-on-one with those who were struggling, or couldn’t quite figure out technique. One was overseeing the whole operation.

The original milestone, three-hundred-sixty ponies’ worth of crops, was now out of the question. I couldn’t afford to take any chances with nourishment, any longer – certainly not with how meteoric our population growth turned out to be, this past week. This field, when I was done with it, would be fit to feed multiple thousands. At least two, preferably three. Overflow… well. There was no question where that was going to end up. I’d learned my lesson decisively, indeed. The still, from now on, was going to be fed from personal reserves, if I ever got around to it – the field was for the good of the whole population.

I shook my head, even as I took my place among the workers, and began digging ditches myself. The sight of this work, from a distance at least, rankled me something fierce, and no mistake. While I was doing it personally, it was okay. The gnawing hunger I was slowly getting used to; wasn’t starving just yet, after all. The work itself helped distract me from thinking more generally, something I was very glad for. I always was the kind of person to get swallowed up in the utterly tedious – the kind of person who genuinely enjoys doing data entry, watching numbers increment in real time, and so on.

At a distance, though, merely watching the work unfold in front of me, ponies struggling their way through laying the foundations of their lives here… it made me feel off. What really threw me off, though, was the first comparison my brain dredged up to what was happening here… an antebellum plantation. The similarities, to me, were depressingly striking. Work the field, or else. Even if the ‘else’ was technically thrust on me by them thanks to circumstances, rather than the other way around… blech.

The simple motions of digging trenches in the soil, a pony following behind me to fill them back up, cast the doubts in my mind away. This was work I knew how to do, and well. I’d been doing it for a few years, both here and back home, and essentially non-stop for the last four days too, out of the six I’d actually been First Minister, as it were. Somewhere at the back of my mind I was aware that doing the work along with the unwashed masses would earn me huge cred among them, which would build genuine, grass-roots legitimacy for my position. (Strange thoughts usually cropped up when I was in the middle of tedium like that.) Mostly, though, I was just happy I was making a difference.

Time flew. The sun flew along with it, slithering across the sky. Morning to noon, to something approaching evening. I felt… not great. Lunch was a short affair, just barely enough. Once again, I needed to oversee it personally, for all just-under-seven-hundred residents. (Hooves and his, and Lyra, I trusted enough to let them take themselves.) Nobody was happy about it, but what could they have done besides what they already were?

Morale was going down the shitter, and fast. No fancy speech of mine was going to stop that. I needed to give them something tangible to hold on to – the only thing that came to mind was a feast, which was less than wise. It’d certainly solve the problem we all were having. If only for another few, all-too-short days.

I hadn’t even been back on the field for ten minutes before the consequences of my decisions finally reared up to smack me across the face.

“Why are you doing this?”

An angry stallion was right in front of me, fuming at me. I suspected only my natural height advantage prevented him from getting his face all up in mine, but the glare he was throwing at me about made up for it. “You’re forcing us to work ourselves to the bone,” he accused. Slowly, but steadily, others around us were dropping their own duties, gearing up for a spectacle. “You’re starving us to our graves!”

“Yes. I am.” I didn’t bother denying the honest truth. “I don’t have any other choice. This is what I have to do, if I want any of you to live to the next harvest.”

His hoof stamp made clear what he thought of my clarifications. “Horseapples, ‘no other choice!’ You’re killing us! And you expect us to spend entire days breaking our backs out here?”

I cared little for his insinuations. My own hunger, fatigue, general sunny disposition and now his accusations were making fertile ground indeed for some good old fashioned burning rage. “Yes, I do,” I replied, trying to keep my temper even. “I’m expecting it of myself. And I’m doing it. That’s more than I can say for a few of you. If I don’t ration as carefully as I possibly can, none of us – none of us at all – will live to even September, let alone when these crops will actually mature. I am doing my best.”

The stallion’s opinion didn’t change. He began pawing at the ground, language I immediately recognised as fighting words. “Then you can get bucked! Your best isn’t good enough! Your ‘Free State’ is no different than the Crystal Empire! Filthy tyrant!”

Miraculously, he refrained from taking a swing at me. Just as well; if he’d tried, I couldn’t guarantee him walking away unscathed. His words had touched a nerve. I paid no heed to the still-growing crowd. “Tyrant?” I asked, incredulous. “You call me a tyrant for trying to save your lives? For trying to get you all under a roof at night? For trying to make sure you actually get what I’ve tried to give you? Tyrant?”

It was no use. He charged, yelling and howling, telegraphing his intent with all the subtlety of a traffic sign to one’s face.

A few things, first. One: I was very, very good at bottling things up. It was a trick I learned pretty early in, while I was abroad back on Earth, when I realised how crap life actually was. My friends used to give me crap for it, even, how I could seemingly turn my emotions off at the flick of a switch, something about a ‘serial killer vibe’ – and, even though to them it was just me going back to my resting face faster than most, they were partly right. Reduced affect display, they call it, most likely symptomatic of depression – I suspected, every so often, that I had a mild one, but I never went to the bother of a full-on diagnosis. It wasn’t much of a problem, in my day-to-day, so I left it be.

Two: there was a very nasty streak in me, somewhere deep down. Not to say that I was a complete monster, of course; doing good felt good, doing evil felt bad, etc. but, at the end of the day, I knew that I could do some deeply unpleasant things if I set my mind to it, and I would lose little sleep over them. That was where number one came in handy, actually, locking that shit down like El Presidente’s jail cell. Not to mention, y’know, going to prison myself would be a major bummer, as well as not being very physically menacing either way, good reasons to not actually go around being an arsehole.

Three: if number one fails, number two suddenly becomes a big fucking problem. I was, after all, only human, and was therefore not immune to throes of passion, positive or not – mental illness or not. If I got pissed off enough, and circumstances were poor enough, well. Suddenly, there was a better-than-poor chance the kiddie gloves might come off.

This idiot in front of me… oh dear.

He was an earth pony, a slightly-dirty yellow one with a surprisingly boring brown mane, and a cutie mark of two knots tied into each other, whatever that was supposed to represent. I couldn’t recall his name, and didn’t care. He was running full-charge at me, head held low, level with my stomach, probably intending to knock the wind out of me, down to the floor.

I only had to sidestep and kick my foot out to catch him out. He went spiralling to the ground, digging his muzzle into the freshly-dug soil. I stalked over and, before he could recover, plucked him into the air, holding him by the scruff of his neck like the world’s fattest, dumbest cat. I twirled him around to face me. He was still sputtering the dirt out of his mouth, but froze up when his eyes met mine.

“You think me a tyrant.” My voice was low and cold. A part of me marvelled at it; my anger was usually much less restrained. Perhaps that was the budding man of state in me, trying to work this to my advantage further as a decisive, collected leader. Whatever. “Because I ask you to work for your future, and because I work to see you through to that future. You believe that you should be able to sit in your little home, eating your little meals, and living your little life. Is that correct?” I didn’t bother to wait for a reply, and wouldn’t have listened to one even if he did work past his terror to give me one. “You think me a tyrant,” I repeated. “Let me show you what tyranny is, little pony.”

I spun on my heel towards the direction of the dining hall. The crowd parted before me at once. Practically the entire field was here around us. I glared down as many individual ponies as I could. “You lot.” Everyone cringed from that. “Take the next twenty minutes off. First Minister’s orders.” The sighs of relief and grateful smiles threatened a smirk out of me, but I held back. “Knob here needs a little lesson.”

The knob du-jour, himself, didn’t even try to resist, even as I frog-marched him over to the dining hall in front of practically the whole town, holding him up like a trophy kill the whole time. Not even a peep. Must have been that herd instinct I’d read about. Or maybe he just didn’t want to try his chances against me. To be honest, I was just glad he wasn’t flailing his hooves about like a twat. Earth pony magic might not be hot cakes against me, but a kick from a small horse was gonna hurt, and no mistake.

I kicked the door to the hall open (gently, of course, no reason to test its integrity), earning a whimper from the idiot. A brown pegasus was inside, almost leaping out of their skin from my dramatic entry. It was Construct.

“Fir…” She only got as far as the first syllable, mouth left open as she stared at the pony in my hand. I shot her a look that I hoped said ‘in a minute,’ and moved past her to the iceboxes at the back of the building. Construct, bless her heart, followed me.

“Here you go, little pony,” I said, unceremoniously dumping him to the floor in front of our food storage. He landed on his arse, and narrowly escaped faceplanting with quick applications of hooves on the ground. “Here’s your lesson.”

I threw open each icebox, one by one. I already knew what was inside them – that is to say, not much. Not much at all. There was still about a week’s food left, for all about-seven-hundred of us.

“Congratulations,” I told him. “You got me. Say the word, and I’ll step down right now.” He only stared at me, uncomprehending. Construct stifled a gasp, turning it instead into a little shaky inhale. I threw my hands in the air in mock defeat, taking a flippant tone of speech. “Actually, fuck it! I’m tired of this crap. Well done on your doubtlessly richly deserved promotion to First Minister.” Now, I cast a hand out to the boxes of food in front of him. “First things first, this food needs to get us through to our next harvest. We just had one a few weeks ago, so the next one should come out to about mid-October. Possibly early November. This here food’s enough for another week. Your job is now to make that stretch out to fourteen. Seventeen, if you’re unlucky.”

I shot him a profoundly unpleasant look, one he began trembling under. “Oh, and hey. We’ve got twenty-five foals with us too. Sure would be a shame if they all starved to death, eh? Thank fuck we’ve got all our houses ready, right? Four ponies each? Sounds about right.” I glanced at Construct, who had schooled her face into her usual impassiveness, except for a crease in her brow that I couldn’t exactly decipher the meaning of. “Which reminds me, we’re still attracting migrants to us, which we can’t feed and can barely house. Good luck!

“Oh, and also! Construct here’s got some news for you! Go ahead,” I nodded at her, then to the pillock.

A considerable pause came and went before she went ahead. “Our crops are failing.”

I sucked in air through my teeth. Pillock’s eyes had shrunk to pinpricks. He looked to be on the verge of passing out. I didn’t relent for a second. “Hear that, chum? Sounds like you won’t even be able to feed us all come harvest time! Sure sucks to be you, don’t it? Well, since you’ve got things well in, er, hoof here, I think I’ll let you talk business with your second-in-command.”

Nothing but silence. Pillock just fucking stared at me, wide-eyed. I returned it evenly – about as evenly as I could, at any rate. “No?” I asked him. “Doesn’t sound so good after all?” Finally, some gears turned in that brain of his, just enough for him to shake his head no. “Oh dear, and here I was thinking you could have sorted this business all out without extreme measures!” Finally, I dropped my faux-friendliness to growl directly into his ear. “Now listen to me, little pony. Call me a tyrant now, I fucking dare you. I dare you, you dirty little fucker.”

I abruptly stepped back, folding my arms behind my back. “Besides,” I said. “If I really was a dictator, I’d have sliced you up like a side of beef right there on the field. Consider yourself lucky.” I stuck a thumb out to the door. “Go on, then. Piss off.”

He pissed off.

I shook my head, walking up to shut the iceboxes again. “Fucking useless,” I muttered. I… probably could have handled that better. Faster, too. Nothing for it now, though, I figured, but at least I might have struck some of the fear of God into the idiot parade.

That display probably wasn’t going to inspire my loyal subjects with hope for the future, I reckoned. Better to be feared than loved, perhaps, but during hardship, fear becomes a lot easier to turn to hate… the downfall of every leader. Still, if that didn’t end up coming true, at least I’d have defeated my first public challenge to my leadership – no small feat by any margin. My first trembling step to making my position my own.

“First Minister?” Construct’s voice broke me out of my musings.

“Hmm? Oh, yes, right, apologies.” I waved a hand in the air in a circular, ‘et cetera’ manner, still facing the boxes. “Just needed to impress my authority on an idiot. Hopefully he won’t be a problem again. Not for a while, at least,” I grumbled under my breath.

“That’s not what this is about,” she said, walking up into my field of view. Now, a scowl had made its way to her face. “I meant what I said.”

“Huh?” What she said…?

…oh.

Oh. Oh shit.

“…You’re kidding.” I shook my head. “No, you’re kidding. You’re fucking kidding. This has to be a fuckin’ joke.”

“I’m afraid not, First Minister.” She inhaled, ready to continue, but I cut her off by spinning on my heel and all but running out of the dining hall backroom. Construct had to canter to match my pace. “The original field is at about a forty percent failure rate. The new, larger field is too young for accurate measurements, but I estimate at least sixty-five percent. Most likely more than that.”

I barged through the door, slamming my shoulder through the passage, not checking back to see if I’d let the door hit Construct on the rebound. I didn’t give a fuck. Bigger things were running through my mind. “This can’t be fucking happening. I don’t believe this shit, how can it be so fuckin’ bad? The worst I ever got was individual crops! Some bad seeds, maybe, dodgy potatoes from earlier on! Half the fuckin’ field…? Now?”

I kept mumbling to myself, barely even noticing the ground under my feet change to bare soil. I stopped, though, knowing I’d gotten to my destination, when I almost tripped over a budding head of cabbage. I turned my gaze out of myself and to the field itself.

Construct was right. Almost a full half of the tilled land was still bare. The crops that were growing, seemed to have been distributed at random, patches of leafy green jutting out wherever, interspersed with small chunks of empty earth. It looked like a field worked on by the blind.

“Whuh… bu…” I was lost for words. Syllables were the best I could do. This could not possibly be what was happening. What in the fuck was this? What was I supposed to do about this?

“We still haven’t figured out what’s causing it,” said Construct, finally catching up to me properly, coming to rest at my left. “Some of the crops still seem to be able to grow despite the inert field, but some are actually affected by it. It’s baffling.”

I wasn’t listening. I was too busy screaming internally. Well, it was more like anguished sobbing mixed with truly staggering quantities of exotic profanity, but it all added up to the same thing. Please try again later.

“It isn’t even limited to any specific crop, either,” continued Construct, taking a few tentative steps forward, before bending down to nose at a stalk of green. “It’s like some just refuse to grow. I’ve never seen anything like it. No pattern, no cause… the potatoes are all still fine, but the radishes, carrots, all the wheat is just gone. Everything else… might as well be a toss-up.”

“Heh…” I was this close – this close – to breakdown, fully expecting to snap in half and start cackling like a moron at the sheer fucking hilarity of it all… but I caught that last little snippet just in time. And my brain ran with it.

Potatoes?

Wheat?

Something came up to me, dredged up in the depths of my mind. A connection. A faint one, practically grasping at straws, but a connection nonetheless.

I wasn’t the one to plant the wheat on the smaller field this go around. I’d been laid out by heatstroke before I could even finish harvesting it, after all, and Lyra had put her hoof down, doing it herself, with Hooves’ help. By the time I was fit to go outside again, it’d all been finished already.

The potatoes, on the other hand… they’d been done with seed potatoes, the old-fashioned way. I’d been the one to pick the ones to go back into the ground myself, and had planted them with Deft’s help.

I inhaled. Breakthrough. “It’s gotta be sabotage,” I concluded. Construct whipped her head around to me, poorly-masked shock running through her. “I oversaw those potatoes myself, I had nothing to do with the wheat. This time, anyway. All the potatoes are fine, all the wheat is fucked. Make up your own mind.”

“…Sabotage?” Construct was less than impressed.

“It fits the evidence, sunshine,” I replied. “The simplest, dumbest explanation is usually correct. And this is certainly simple, and definitely fucking retarded enough.”

“Why would anypony sabotage their own food supply?” asked Construct.

Erk. “…An excellent question,” I conceded. “Guess we oughta ask around for the answer.”

“Assuming your assumption is correct,” she said. “If it isn’t sabotage, what else could it be?”

What else could it be? My mind spun tracks in mud at the question. It was still better than the alternative. “…It could be something with the ponies themselves?” I tried. “Hell, I grew food here just fine. Somehow, you ponies don’t have as much luck.” I snorted. “Inert fields… ponies just can’t do anything right without magic, huh?”

“I resent that remark,” said Construct, more playfully than I’d ever expected her to.

“That why you decided to work hooves-on for a living?”

…

Wait.

I plant crops in inert fields just fine. Ponies don’t.

I just about slapped myself in the face. Of course. My bloody un-magic touch. I pondered it for a few seconds, then decided to slap myself after all. Yeah. That sodding icebox debacle turns out to be the fuckin’ linchpin, eh…?

“First Minister?” asked Construct, alarmed at the impact of my palm on my face.

“That’s exactly it, Construct,” I said.

“What? Slapping yourself?”

“No, you dolt,” I exclaimed, exasperated. “I grow food here just fine! You don’t! You use magic, and I don’t! Fuck, I break the magic in those enchanted gems if I touch them! That’s gotta be it! If they don’t have any magic in them in the first place, they don’t need any more of it to grow!”

Construct was silent for a spell, mulling it over. “…That could explain it,” she finally said. “I’d need to consult with Thaum-agro to be sure, but your theory could fit. There was speculation about inert seedlings a while back, but…” She trailed off, frowning to herself.

“Get to it,” I said, breaking her out of her spell. “Do what you have to do to puzzle this shit out. If it’s plausible, we’ll… uh, figure something out,” I finished lamely.

Construct nodded, and took off at a steady trot. I watched her go for a while, before turning back to the field.

This… was not gonna go over well. Turns out a big chunk of our work was for nothing, and was probably going to need to be done again. I’d consider myself lucky if I kept my head on my shoulders after breaking that piece of good news to my lads. Then, realising that I was gonna have to do that work all over again too – and if I was right, literally all of that work – I couldn’t restrain a groan from escaping me.

Fuck this shit, I thought, turning around and trudging my way home, exhausted beyond belief. I need a break. Twenty minutes, sure… I don’t get paid nearly enough for this bullshit.

13. Growing Pains III – The Art of Logistics

We can’t go on like this. Something has to be done.

Yesterday’s talk with Sturdy Construct had served to light a fire under my arse. The news that our crops were acting up was an unwelcome kick in the nuts for sure, but really it was just the crap-cherry on top of the whole sordid affair I’d found myself in charge of. Hunger, overcrowding, overworking, that was all stuff I’d accepted as necessary, but the notion that all of it might well have ended up mattering dick-all anyway was just too much to stomach. Bad luck was all well and good – hell, I was practically born with it – but this was bullshit.

That morning, for once, I had the pleasure of waking up before Lyra did. She preferred the side closer to the wall, so I could get out of bed without disturbing her too much. I got dressed quickly, shook out as much of my residual sleepiness as I could, and walked into the kitchen, where I autopiloted the process of my morning routine.

This day, exactly one week since my arrival to a more crowded Free State than I had expected, I was going to dedicate to a more administrative workload than I had allowed myself over the last seven days – by which I meant I was going to have a nice, long conversation with Construct and Blueblood about making sure my state survived the coming months. It was the closest thing to a vacation I could reasonably allow myself, given the circumstances.

First, though, my morning routine.

Wish and Bowmound, the two orphans Lyra had all but adopted, were still dozing on the couch, their new de-facto bed. I shook my head at the sight, a wistful smile on my face, as I went through the motions of getting my hands on that sweet black gold of the morning. It appeared I’d woken up a little earlier than I usually did, judging by the much more subdued hues of the dawning sun, not even having fully cleared the horizon yet.

These moments of peace were growing increasingly rare, I mused. With how busy I’d been over the last few weeks, I could barely recall a stretch of half an hour I’d gotten to spend as I pleased. It felt like all I got to myself was these few moments before I started the day, watching Celestia’s sun crest the forest canopy while sipping at coffee almost as bitter as I was.

Suppose I can call myself a father now, came a thought that made me chuckle. Two kids sleeping in the same house as me… close enough, right? As soon as it came, I dismissed the notion. Raising two children was tough enough as it was, let alone juggling them with running a country, on top of my new daily manual labour extravaganza. If Lyra hadn’t volunteered to take care of them for me, I don’t know what I would have done. Probably given them over to Construct, or failing that Celestia. With how things were now, there was no chance in hell I could take care of them properly. (They were sleeping on a couch in the living room, for fuck’s sake.)

Anyway. Back on track. Speaking of Construct… food was, as ever, the first priority. We needed more, simple as that. Four thousand bits for seven hundred people, over fourteen weeks, was… less than realistic. If that was all we were going to be able to get, it was more than likely we’d all have to try out a little death-camp diet. That was why I was particularly eager to get a report from the foraging parties Construct had set up. Most of what I had found in the woods, back before the Free State, were herbs… but hopefully that was only because I went in them looking for only those herbs.

Equestria was, as always, a backup plan. Celestia’s bleeding heart was famous across Equus, after all, especially concerning ‘her little ponies,’ as she called them. Strange, how when I say it, it comes across as intimidating… Maybe I could convince her to send us some of those cakes she liked to eat so fucking often. Honestly, whoever was in charge of the palace’s bakery, they could not possibly have been getting paid enough. It might relieve some of the strain of rationing, if everything else went to plan.

Ugh. I grimaced. More fucking handouts… wait, unless…? A deeply unpleasant proposition had made itself known to me. Celestia, after all, was a consummate statesman. (Or statespony, or -mare, or whatever the fuck.) Perhaps this was all just a ploy to increase the prestige of the Crown, by way of discrediting newcomers like me, having me resort to Equestrian aid to keep us afloat?

I rubbed at my eyes, jostling my glasses about. Whatever. I can ponder whatever the hell I want later. Move your arse, Inns. I drained the last of my coffee – by now, cold and awful – set the mug down somewhere it was probably supposed to go, and checked into my study to grab some stationery. It never hurt to make some notes, after all. Not to mention I was gonna have to get in the habit of recording bureaucratic business for future reference – might as well get into the habit sooner rather than later.

When I went to leave the room, though… “Boo!”

Apparently, the two kiddos weren’t as asleep as I had assumed them to be, and were merely waiting for an opportunity to scare one of the two adults in the house, leaping up to my face with a goggle-eyed expression. Well, that, or I’d stayed in the kitchen drinking coffee for longer than I thought I did – which was entirely too plausible, since it was true. Probably both were true, come to think of it. Regardless, I was not too deeply moved to a response. “Good morning, Bowmound. Morning, Wish.”

“Aww!” went Wish. “Why weren’t you scared? We totally scared you!” Bowmound shared the filly’s disappointment, visibly and audibly, groaning in dismay. I could only chuckle.

“Sure you did, Wish. Sure you did.” I glanced at the couch, which was predictably messy. A pillow had landed on the floor – the colt’s, I thought. “Why don’tcha make your beds, kiddos, and then get some breakfast, yeah?”

The foals chorused their (admittedly reluctant) agreement, running over to the couch as I walked out to the hallway – where Lyra was waiting for me. A warm smile split her face as she spotted me.

“Good morning, Adam,” she said, nodding back to the kitchen. “Breakfast?”

“I’m afraid I’ll pass for now,” I declined, immediately dampening her mood. “I already had coffee, and I need to move. Keep the kiddos out of trouble, yeah? If anything comes up, I’ll be with Construct.”

“Okay, Adam,” she said, as I was already spinning around to leave the house. “Take care.”

I took care to shut the door behind me. Outside was a typical summer morning; the sun still snoozing low in the sky, not a cloud in sight, a pleasant breeze that helped keep the heat away. It was surprisingly busy outside already, ponies already making their ways over to where they needed to be the most – although they thought that was still the field.

I shook my head and picked up the pace to the dining hall. Not any more, lads.

As I walked, though, I began noticing a new sort of deference being shown to me by the ponies. More than a few deigned to full-on bow down to me as I passed them in the street, as opposed to simple waves or nods. I went out of my way to not notice as many of them as possible, in the hope that they’d stop. I’d done precisely bugger-all yet to earn that kind of thing, and the sight of it filled me with a very unpleasant kind of… ‘uncomfortable satisfaction’ was the best phrase I could think of to describe it. Either way, not too nice.

Finally, the dining hall. A few ponies were busy shovelling their miserable rations down their mouths. These ones didn’t give me more than quick looks. That didn’t make me feel very good, either. I spotted Construct behind the counter on the far side of the hall, standing in the doorway to the back room with her rear facing my way. Wew. That sure is a nice looking-

…ahem. Tail.

She turned around, immediately locking onto my gaze. I waved her over, at which she trotted briskly over. “First Minister,” she greeted.

“Good morning, Construct,” I greeted back, nodding at her. “I was hoping to speak with you today regarding our next steps.”

“Of course,” she said. “What did you wish to discuss?”

“First off, do you know where the good Ambassador is?”

Her muzzle scrunched. “I, ah, I believe he departed for Canterlot last night. He declined to give a reason why.”

I grimaced. “Of course he did. Probably off to invest in a cockfighting ring, that fuckwit.” I inhaled, ignoring Construct’s reproachful stare. “Fine. We’ll just have to puzzle it out ourselves. Come on,” I said, turning on my heel and walking back out, beckoning her to come with.

We walked out of the hall, Construct not bothering to close the doors behind her. “Puzzle out what ourselves, First Minister?”

“Food,” I said. “What else? Well, actually, one or two other things, but food’s the important one of course. Otherwise you lot might well have to try eating grass.”

I didn’t look back to see how that suggestion went over with the pony behind me, but I suspected it wasn’t anything pleasant. I opened the door to my house and all but stormed in, to Lyra’s surprise. I waved her off and continued to my study. Construct joined me after a short wait, shutting the door behind her.

“Yes, First Minister?”

“First things first,” I said, clapping my hands together. “Foraging. How much food are we getting from it, roundabout? Enough for a few dozen at least?”

Construct frowned in confusion. “Foraging?” At my nod, she continued much more reluctantly. “We… haven’t set up any foraging parties yet.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“We haven’t set any up yet,” she repeated. “You gave us orders to prioritise agriculture above all else, not to begin foraging.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” I slammed my palm onto my face, groaning in disbelief. “Great. That’s just great.” My hand slid off my face to reveal a very displeased expression, partially hidden by the grease left on my glasses from my clammy digits. “Well, guess what, Construct? You got ‘em now. Fucking hell, all my massive brains and something as simple as that slips past ‘em…”

“Yes, First Minister,” was all Construct said. “Is there anything else?”

“Yes,” I moaned, still recovering from my own colossal imbecility. (Or was it hers? Shouldn’t she have foreseen us needing that anyway? Do I really have to spell everything I want done out?) “I’ve put it off for too long already. We need to buy as much food as we possibly can.” I moved to ransack my desk, flipping paper about this way and that, searching for my big bag o’ bits, which I knew must have been somewhere here. “Hey… I could’ve sworn… ah, here it is!”

I turned and tossed the bag of gold at her feet. “That should be… I think two thousand, three hundred and sixty-three bits in there.” Construct only stared at it, nonplussed – then at me, equally nonplussed. I rolled my eyes. “You know where the best place is for buying food in bulk?”

“Manehattan,” she returned instantly.

Fuck. I sighed. That was practically on the total other side of Equestria – across half a continent. Manehattan was on the coast of the Celestial Sea, after all, and White Tail Woods was only a few days away from one of the Lunar Bays – the southern one, if I recalled my maps right. “Second best?” I tried.

“That’ll be… Canterlot,” she said, this time taking a moment or two to think it over. Canterlot’s still a little far…

“How about nearby?” I asked. “Las Pegasus? Appleloosa, maybe?”

“Those’re some of the worse ones,” she said. “North-east’s the breadbasket, after all. Las Pegasus has to import to get by, even.”

Of course. Nothing could ever come to me easy, after all. It was all I could to to shake my head, instead of descending into Russian cussing. “Great,” I said. “Just great. Fine then, we might as well get our money’s worth. You’ll be going to Manehattan, then.”

I’d taken Construct by surprise. “Me, sir?” She put a hoof to her chest. “Are you sure?”

“’Fraid so,” I replied. “You’re the only one who can do it. I’m still a keystone figure here, and Blueblood’s much less reliable than you, in case you hadn’t noticed yet. Haven’t you got a competent second?”

“Well, yes, but…” She was still indecisive. I had to put my foot down.

“Then they can handle things here,” I said, punctuating it by backhanding my open palm. “You’re the only one I’ve got. Get us as much food as you can.”

“As you wish, First Minister,” she said, reaching down to pick up the sack of cash and place it on her back.

Before she could ask for any other questions I had, though, I continued. “I mean it, Construct. As much as possible. We need as much nutrition as physically possible. For as cheap as possible, I mean. Send it over by train if you have to, if it’ll get to us faster.”

“…Yes, First Minister,” she finally said. “Is there anything else?”

“Foraging.”

Construct blinked. “Yes?”

“You gonna set something up?”

She blinked again. “…Yes?”

I nodded, pleased at my success in conveying information as obliquely as possible. “Excellent. Since working the fields is a no-go until further notice, we might as well pull in as many ponies to foraging as possible. Maybe… let them eat some of what they find themselves? That could be pretty good incentive, as long as they know not to take anything poisonous.”

“Are you sure that will work?” asked Construct, a doubtful grimace on her.

“I think it’ll be better than straight-up banning them from doing so,” I returned. “They’ll probably do that anyway, unless they’re under constant supervision, which we don’t have nearly enough manpower for. Not to mention it’s a good look, not taking food from hungry ponies. We’ll have to put our foot down after a certain amount, though, so other ponies can get fed too. Maybe we can even get some extra in our stocks, at least for a few days.”

Construct nodded, satisfied by my explanation. “I’ll get to it at once, First Minister. Anythi-”

“Yes,” I said, not bothering to wait for her to even finish. “Speaking of the fields. We need to figure out what the problem is, and fast. Definitively, I mean. Any ideas?”

Construct shot me an unkind look for the briefest of seconds before she spoke. “Well, if crops you yourself plant grow fine, then it has to do something with you. You said your icebox enchantment dissipated after you touched its gem?”

“That’s not what I said, no,” I said, deadpan. “That’s only what happened.”

“Right.” Hmm. Perhaps my attitude was beginning to rub her the wrong way? “We suspect what’s happened is that the seeds you’ve touched yourself, the same thing has happened to them. So they don’t have any magic in them, which -” she made a circular motion with her hoof here “- somehow causes them to be able to grow without needing an ambient magic intake.”

“That what your Thaum-a-grow people said in their report?” I asked, smirking.

“Yes, actually,” she replied, wiping the smirk off me in an instant. Wow. She works fast, huh. She got all that done in barely an evening. Heh, a real workhorse. “Word for word, even. Anyway, the theory is that you only need to touch the seeds at some point before they start growing. After that, anypony at all can plant them, care for them, etc. Tilling, planting, caring, harvesting, that can all be done by actual trained farming personnel.”

“Okay,” I said, nodding along. “So, what does that mean for the work we’ve already done?”

“Wasted,” she replied, far too quickly for comfort. “Except for what’s already sprouted, of course. Unless you feel like digging out each individual seed and draining them all, one by one.”

“Yeah.” I winced. “Let’s not do that. We can just… urgh. That’s not gonna go over well at all. We’re gonna have to re-plough, re-plant, re-mound the entire bloody field, aren’t we. That’s not gonna make for very happy ponies.”

“Better than the alternative,” Construct pointed out.

“That’s for sure.” I inhaled, taking a moment to think of anything else I was missing. “Oh, yeah…” I pulled out the parchment and quill I’d stashed in a pocket earlier. “Huh. Why’d I take this with me, if I was just gonna come back here anyway?”

“I’ll take that, if you don’t mind,” said Construct, reaching out a hoof. I dutifully handed her my note-taking equipment, Construct getting to work jotting things down at once. “Thank you,” she said, deftly working the words out past the quill she was biting into. Wow… still as freaky to see as ever.

“Ooh,” I said, snapping my fingers. “One more thing.” I ignored Construct’s eye roll. “Now might be a good time to wrangle up some pegasi to help keep the skies a little neater. Y’know, no nasty thunderstorms, heatwaves, and so on. Emergency stuff, really, for the time being. Maybe they can help with irrigation for the farms, too.”

“Mmhmm.” Construct didn’t even spare a glance, busy as she was writing.

“Okay,” I chuckled. “I think that’ll do it for now. Let me know when you’re ready to roll.” Construct nodded and turned around to walk out, still jotting notes down. Christ, how ponies got around with hooves continued to baffle me. Apparently, the lack of opposable digits wasn’t much of a hurdle to the little horses. Lucky fuckers, I thought. I get thumbs, and they get a horn that lets them warp the very fabric of reality at will. Fuckin’ ponies, man.

Phew. Despite having only talked with Construct for the lesser part of half an hour, I felt like I’d spent half the day working the fields. Must have been the fat lot of nothing I’d eaten this morning. Well, nothing I can’t solve, now. Well, for a slightly stretched definition of ‘solve.’

Still being hungry after finishing breakfast was not a very nice feeling at all, in spite of how familiar it was getting. ‘Ubiquitous’ was rapidly becoming an uncomfortably accurate description for the gnawing in my stomach, as I was sure it was for the rest of the ponies now living here.

Unfortunately, there was now quite little for me to do about it. The fields were out of the question for the next little while, until we could get our shit together properly on that front, and foraging for actual, edible food was not something I had much experience in, unless the herbs in the forest had inexplicably septupled in nutritional value while I wasn’t looking – hey, anything’s possible with magic… just, er, not very likely.

I’d suddenly found myself out of things to do. With Blueblood away, I couldn’t get on the horn with Celestia in real-time (not like that), so I couldn’t try to wheedle her into sending some disaster relief aid, or whatever bullshit she’d have to concoct to get the Canterlot idiot brigade moving – and with Construct brought up to speed, busy with her new work, I had no-one to bounce ideas off of, or indeed to ask for anything I could actually help her with. I couldn’t even think of any busywork to make up – a new low indeed for the First Minister.

Might as well take the opportunity to take a breather, I reckoned, paying far too much attention to washing off my already-too-clean plate for my own good. Just until something else comes up.

This time, I heard the clop of hooves behind me before the pony spoke. “Adam?”

“Yes, that is my name, Lyra,” I snarked, still working the plate. “What’s up?”

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Fine,” I said automatically. I wasn’t, but saying it made it feel just a little bit more like the truth.

Lyra saw through it at once, naturally. “Are you sure? You know you can tell me whatever is on your mind, Adam. How are you really feeling?”

“Really,” I said, drolly. The plate was clean enough that I could see my face in it, so I placed it down to dry and turned to my partner, letting the weight of fifty years I hadn’t lived show. My shoulders slumped, my head sagged, I even listed sideways, saved from a fall only by the fact the counter was in the way. “Whatever’s on my mind, huh? Well, let’s see. I’m hungry, I’m tired, seven hundred people who are my responsibility are hungry and tired, I don’t know if we all will even make it another month, and to top it all off, turns out all the work we all did setting up our farm was all for nothing.” Now, I let my head hang fully, staring at my shoes, not even feeling particularly sad, or angry – or anything, really. “No wonder they call it inhospitable here. Sure wish I’d listened to Celestia now, huh.”

Lyra stepped forward, hesitantly, pushing the side of her head up against my midriff. She shut her eyes at the contact, which I instead almost startled at. “I’m sorry,” she said, sounding like she wanted to say more, but couldn’t find the words for it.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” I told her. “None of this is your fault.”

“I know that,” she answered, ever-so-slightly muffled against my clothes. “I meant I’m sorry for you. You have the weight of all your responsibilities on you, and you don’t even realise that you don’t have to shoulder them all by yourself.” She stopped rubbing herself against me, and turned to look up at me, straight into my eyes. “No matter what you may think, you’re not alone in this. I’m with you. Construct is with you. Even Blueblood is with you, whether you believe it or not. Those seven hundred ponies look up to you; they’re with you too.” I could see the hints of tears starting to form at the corners of her eyes. My own were stinging something fierce too, which I had to blink away. “Don’t crush yourself alone, Adam,” she pleaded.

Unbidden, my hand reached down to scratch behind her ears, at which Lyra quickly melted, shutting her eyes and pushing her head against my palm. It was the least I could do. “…Thanks, Lyra,” I said, quietly. “I’ll keep that in mind.” I blinked back yet more tears. Seriously, this mare was bloody psychic or something, with how well she knew what to say. Bet she’d have done well at the Canterer. Might even have given Heartstrings a run for his money, going for EIC.

“Mmm,” Lyra almost purred, knees quivering under her at my ministrations. “And what about the foals?”

I paused, not having expected the change in topic. “Er… huh? Foals?”

“Aren’t you going to adopt them? Officially?”

…

What.

“I’m sorry?”

Lyra finally deigned to open her eyes, and immediately began snickering, seeing me staring at her like a gaping moron. I couldn’t even begin to restart my brain up, totally blind-sided by her question.

“Well,” she said, trying to speak past her amusement. “Since they – hehe –they’re already living in your house, and, and we’re taking care of them, isn’t that the next logical step?”

“Uh, yeah, no,” I said flatly. “Now is quite possibly the worst possible time to do that sort of thing.”

“Well, what else are you going to do?” she asked.

She’s got ya there, Inns. As she said, the two foals were already living in my house, and were more or less my responsibility – although Lyra herself did most of the work of actually caring for them, since I was usually busy with my work. Would it really have been much of a stretch to call them my two foals?

The answer, I decided, was yes. “Not that,” I insisted. “It’s really a terrible idea. I can’t care for two kids properly, certainly not now! And I’d make a pretty piss-poor parent, besides! I mean… what the hell do I know about raising children? Pony children, even?”

Lyra blinked. “What do you know about building a Free State?”

I sighed through my nose, and gave her a flat stare. “…Lyra. I understand what you’re getting at, and I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but my answer is still no. There’s just nothing-”

“Hey, mister! Mister!”

I blinked, seeing two small blurs of colour rush through the hallway and slam into my legs, practically trying to squeeze the life out of them. “Mister Inns!” exclaimed Silent Wish, cheerful as I’d ever heard her.

“Morning, mister Inns!” shouted Bowmound, clinging to my other leg.

As quickly as they latched on, they detached, leaping backwards with a traditional youthful energy, both of them giving me big grins. “Miss Lyra said you’ll be our new daddy!” the two said, almost in stereo. The filly nodded her head vigorously to punctuate the point.

I turned an unamused stare over to Lyra, who only gave me a faint smile. “…Really, Lyra?”

“You might as well be already,” she pointed out, far too smugly for my liking.

“I believe you missed the part where I want nothing to do with it,” I said.

Wish broke in before Lyra could reply. “Sky Gale told me anypony who says they wanted to be my daddy would be bad.”

I jerked a thumb to her. “See? Even-”

“So that means if you say you don’t want to be my daddy then you would be good!” finished Wish, flashing me a big, goofy smile.

...Oh for fuck’s sake.

I dropped my upraised hand to my side, feeling lost. All three ponies were spearing through me with their hopeful stares. What was I supposed to do against them? How could I possibly convey my distaste at the idea of fucking the whole thing up? Lyra had decided on this on my behalf – and the foals agreed with her. Neither of them knew – or cared – that I was nowhere near ready for that kind of responsibility.

I chose to meet Bowmound’s eyes; he was the only one of the three without a smile on him – which changed the second he realised I was looking at him, when he gave me the second most brilliantly genuine smile I’d ever seen on anyone. This time, though, instead of filling me with determination for a better future, it only highlighted my unease at the prospect.

I dropped my gaze to the floor in defeat. “…I’ll need some time to think about it.” My tepid response took the wind out of all three of the ponies’ sails. Their smiles disappeared; now, consternation was the word of the day. (Even if only one of them knew what it meant.) Lyra stepped back from me, allowing me an escape route to the outdoors that I took immediately, shuffling out of the room with head hung low.

The air of the outdoors did very little to settle my mind. Why couldn’t Lyra see what an awful candidate I was? I mean… really… Sure, the Free State was all well and good, but… seven hundred subjects was an entirely different kind of responsibility than two children. The former was already taking so much of my attention as it was. Could I really afford both at once, without burning out along the way?

I shook my head. Whatever. This is pointless, anyway. Not until this whole starvation business is dealt with. Then… guess we’ll see. It was an old classic of mine: leave the problem for later. I thought I’d grown out of it by now… but I could see no other solution that I could take.

With one final shake of the head, I set off for the dining hall, to talk details with Construct – or at least her second – trying my best to not dwell on my conversation with Lyra. There was still a whole afternoon ahead of me that I could spend working, after all. Hopefully, talking work will distract me from thinking about my interpersonal relationships… heh, I’d rather talk about how we’re all starving than about adoption. Wonder what that says about me?

14. Growing Pains IV – Visitors for You, First Minister

Once again, I decided to spend the day in my office.

Things had seemed to crawl to a standstill over the past few days. The fields had been left devoid of workers; the sawmill stood quiet and gleaming, and empty. It was almost as if the Free State had been abandoned, with the same swiftness that it had been filled to the brim with. Of course, that was only because it was midday, and just about everyone who could walk and haul was off in the forest, practically trying to scour it clean of anything edible.

Construct had taken my foraging suggestion quite seriously, although in this case that had only consisted of telling them what to do and ‘allowing’ them to take a chunk of whatever they took for themselves, which was enough to convince damn near the entire population. Thus, the settlement itself looked more like… well, what I’d expected it to look like, sans my ill-fated Summer Sun speech, perhaps with a complementary extra two or three months to make up for the lack of, er, horsepower – half-finished, small, and very, very quiet.

Anyway. As it turned out, we had grossly underestimated the amount of produce in that forest. I’d taken an inspection of the food supply, on the second day of the foraging program, and had found almost exactly the same amount of food in it as I had the last time – we were just about breaking even. The sight was a damn welcome one, I tell you what. Apparently, the forest was much more well-established than any of us had initially assumed – there were a few genuine apple trees in there, scattered about randomly, some even with actual, edible fruit on ‘em. We’d earmarked them for transplanting closer to us, at a later date.

All the same, I knew it wasn’t sustainable. The forest might be pretty fuck-off huge, but seven hundred yahoos running around it was gonna deplete it ruddy quick. Sooner or later, the parties would have to start going further and further in to find anything. At some point, we’d have picked clean everything we could reasonably get to in a few hours’ travel time, and that’d be it. At the very least, we’d have gotten a few days’ worth, maybe a month’s or two – which would be welcome for a fact, but… the odds on it being enough were still far too slim for comfort.

At any rate, I would only really get in the way in there – as I kept telling myself. I’d never ventured really far into it, barring a decent spot to hide my still back in the day, and my experience mostly consisted of looking for weeds to throw into it. It wasn’t my field of expertise.

No no. Sitting at a desk crunching numbers, that’s what my expertise is.

Two weeks in, I’d gotten around to taking a second roll call – a census, I guessed it ought to be called now – of the Free State, for the sake of accurate records. Our population now stood at seven hundred and twelve, including me, Lyra, and Hooves’ five, as well as the two orphan kids. Of the original five hundred and thirty eight of the first census, only two ponies had left for greener pastures – both adult mares, a mother and daughter pair. At least, I assumed they’d left. I didn’t get them on the census, at any rate, and no dire situation regarding them had made itself known to me. I hoped they were doing fine, wherever they were.

At any rate, that left me with an extra hundred and sixty five lads having come to me. We were gonna have to start building some more housing soon; apparently, things were getting quite out of hand in that department. Food, too, was going faster than anticipated, just because there were more to feed. At this rate, even if we did absolutely everything we could, there was still a good chance not everyone would make it.

Don’t start spiralling, Inns, I reminded myself with a sharp shake of the head. Better actually do something about it. I’d already asked Construct’s second-in-command, some pegasus named Shuffle Top, to start building some temporary communal housing – really just a barn filled with beds – just to take the edge off. Individual two-story buildings would have taken too long and done less. Stopgaps were an unfortunate necessity in the meantime. I’d probably done all that I could have, already.

Construct, herself, was still away in Manehattan, and Blueblood was also still MIA. I was, in effect, the only person that was still capable of signing off on things here, which happened to be another reason I was huddled in front of a really rather disorganised desk. I needed to be ready in case of something unexpected cropping up.

Like, for instance, the return of a royal pain in the arse.

A knock on the door was preceded, too swiftly to be called decorous, by it opening to reveal a rather frazzled looking Lyra. “Aaah, First Minister?” Her tapering off of my name onto my title gave me pause. Lyra had never used it before, to my knowledge. “Are you available?”

“As always,” I said, leaving my seat. “What have you got for me?”

“Visitors for you, sire,” she said.

Oh.

“Huh.” I hadn’t expected either of the two to have been back already. “Who is it, then?”

“Blueblood,” answered Lyra. “And c-company.”

...Eh? Company? She doesn’t mean…

“Okay,” I said, apprehensive. “Lead the way, I guess.”

She nodded jerkily, and spun gracelessly around to walk me to them. I followed, only somewhat more sedate. If Blueblood’s plus one was who I thought it was… Actually, I could probably… eh.

Zoned out as I was, I hardly even noticed the three guests in my hallway until I almost walked right past them and out the door – saved just in time by a minty-green glow slithering over it. I blinked, and turned around, where all four ponies were giving me strange looks.

“Ah,” I said, stepping forward and pretending that didn’t almost just happen. “Apologies. Ambassador Blueblood, welcome. And…” I frowned, my mind coming up blank. Who are these idiots, again?

Blueblood rescued me from making the next obvious faux pas. “Lady Upper Crust and Count Gilded Hoof, First Minister.”

My eyebrows rose. They were not, as it turned out, who I thought they were. “Ah, forgive me, Lady Upper Crust. It took me a moment to place your face. It is good to meet you again. And Count Gilded Hoof, was it? A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” I offered a hand, and was only slightly surprised when the unicorn stallion actually shook it. I nodded respectfully at him, then to Upper Crust. “I’m afraid the Free State isn’t much for accommodations at present; we’re in a bit of a crisis here at the moment, which I’m sure Ambassador Blueblood has already made you aware of.” I directed them over to my kitchen. “Can I get you some refreshments? Water, tea, coffee?”

“Some tea would be lovely,” said Upper Crust. Blueblood nodded his agreement.

“I prefer coffee,” said Gilded Hoof, looking around my house curiously.

“Coming right up,” I said, pulling out four mugs in what was rapidly becoming a familiar concerto of movement. Soon, I had two cups of steaming herbal tea in front of my guests, and one cup of joe for Gilded Hoof. The second was for myself. Christ, with how much coffee I get through in a day I’m surprised it hasn’t given me arrhythmia yet.

Apparently, it was a custom of the aristocracy to occupy themselves with meaningless small-talk for as long as it took for everyone at the table to finish their drinks. “…such a large field for such a small city-state?” Gilded Hoof was asking. “It seems a little… wasteful.”

“I prefer to think of it as future-proofing,” I replied. To be honest, I didn’t even mind it as much as I thought I would. Maybe because we were just sitting in my kitchen, and I was subconsciously thinking of them as simple guests, instead of the foreign business representatives they probably were in reality. “With how readily these ponies arrived here, the Free State’s population growth has been rather explosive, and we’re still getting new blood in now. I’ve learned my lesson from two weeks ago – if anything like that happens again, I won’t be left in the dust.”

“Which reminds me,” Upper Crust broke in. “I was under the impression that it was near-impossible to establish agriculture here. How have you done it, where so many other ponies have failed?”

“I immersed my hands in a bag of seeds,” I said, as utterly flatly as I could. My straight face lasted for all of about two seconds, seeing the sheer incredulity on her face. Gilded, himself, wasn’t too much better disposed. I chuckled. “I know it doesn’t sound even remotely sane, but it’s the absolute, genuine truth. I have something of an anti-magic touch; Construct says the theory is that when I touch those seeds, their inherent magic dissipates, which, er… somehow means they don’t need any magic intake to grow any more.”

“It’s true,” said Blueblood, surprising me somewhat. “I skimmed a copy of her report. The theory is sound.” He cracked a smile. “The sight of the First Minister stuffing his hands into a sack in his office was… memorable, if nothing else.”

I chuckled again. “’I’m ensuring the continued existence of the Free State by making skin contact with a sack of grain’ was not a phrase I thought I would ever get to say with sincerity, but… Welcome to Equestria, I suppose.” Or rather, fuckin’ ponies, man.

I sipped the last of my coffee down, and set my mug down on the table. That seemed to be the catalyst for our party to finish off the rest of our drinks and assume a more business poise. Upper Crust floated her mug over to the sink, and after a brief glance at me, mine too. “Now,” she said, leaning forward in her seat. “To business.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “Let’s hear it.”

“Prince Blueblood has told me some of the basics of the situation of the Free State,” she began. “Am I right in believing you are in the midst of a famine?”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to call it a famine,” I said. “More of an extreme scarcity of food. But yes, you are essentially correct.”

“And am I right in assuming you are independent, and the sovereign of your state?”

“I’m not sure exactly how independent a nation can be with a neighbour whose ruler moves the sun,” I retorted. “But, again, that is right.”

“Your nation is still very young,” she said. “Your leadership is still not set in stone. A crisis such as the one you are facing now might well be your undoing.”

“Yes, yes,” I interrupted, tired of her dancing around the point. “I know. I was here. Get on with it.”

Her expression soured. “…I am willing to alleviate some of the pressure you are facing now.”

“A private relief effort,” explained Blueblood, before I had a chance to ask her myself. “Not officially sanctioned by the Crown. I imagine food shipments would be a welcome sight in the Free State, if they were not in an Equestrian livery.”

I blinked tiredly. “Just like that? Pro bono? No offense, Lady Upper Crust, but I find that very difficult to believe.”

“I propose an equivalent exchange,” she said. “In exchange for providing you and your state with the necessary goods to continue, I would like to acquire exclusive rights to mineral extraction within the territory of the Free State.”

…

My first instinct was to laugh in her face and kick her out. Despite my inexperience, I was no fool. I knew damn well what ‘exclusive mineral extraction rights’ meant in reality – signing your natural resources away for an immediate profit. A geopolitical deal with the devil: sign your future away, in exchange for goodies in the present. I’d read enough history back home to know what that did to a nation – and the leaders that took advantage of it.

But, at the same time… the Free State’s current situation wasn’t looking an awful lot like sunshine and rainbows. The knowledge that we were in the shitter now, but that it would go away definitively at some point in the future… in effect, we had no current prospects, but the future was looking bright. Besides, it was just minerals; not something we needed, exactly, to survive. We could make do just fine without them.

Upper Crust’s deal was damn cunning indeed, I realised. We had a future, but no present, and here she was offering a present in exchange for our future, for what seemed at a glance to be negligible costs, and massive benefit.

I shook my head, internally. It was too good to be true, without question. I just had to tease out the thread that would let me prove it. “Mineral rights, huh? In exchange for food shipments?”

“That’s right,” she said.

“A tempting offer,” I admitted. “I don’t see any problems that I would have with such a deal – but, I would still like more information before I commit to anything definitively.” The smile that was forming on Upper Crust’s face fell away at once, which she attempted to disguise as professional curiosity. I saw through it at once – she had something to hide, and wasn’t expecting the newbie to pull at the string.

“What would you like to know?” she asked.

“A time period, first of all. Exactly how long would these mineral rights be in effect for? How long would the shipments be coming in for, and at what interval?”

“The relief would only last for as long as it is necessary,” she said, now considerably less emotive. “Once your food situation is resolved, there would be no further need for it. The interval is a matter of distance… to the White Tail Woods, I believe it would be at most once every three weeks.”

“And the minerals?” I prompted.

“It would be a standard Equestrian mineral rights treaty,” she ‘explained.’

I blinked. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy. “I see,” I said. Looked like I had some research to do.

“The baseline is derived from the original Treaty of Stake’s Lair,” Blueblood broke in. “The second treaty between Equestria and Griffonia. The mineral rights were established as ‘indefinite,’ with further clarifications disallowing the possibility of negation.”

...Huh. Thanks, Blueblood. “I see,” I said again. Upper Crust tried to hide it, but she sent a very unpleasant look the Ambassador’s way. When she turned back my way, I saw her irises had shrunk – a pretty sure tell she was nervous, at the very least.

And no wonder. “And how would these minerals actually be extracted?” I asked next. It wasn’t a question either of them had expected to follow. “Personnel, equipment?”

“…Equestria can provide both of those,” she said. Apparently, that was all the clarification I needed, because I spent a few more moments waiting for more in vain. Can was definitely the operative word there.

“…Right,” I eventually said. I considered asking some more, just for the sake of seeing her sweat a bit, but really, my mind was already made up. “Well, I believe I’ll have to think over your offer carefully, Lady Upper Crust.” I rose from my chair, prompting the three ponies to follow suit. “You can expect a response within the next seven working days, via Ambassador Blueblood.” Before I could usher the two guests out of my house, though, I remembered the second. “Oh! Count Gilded, do you have anything to add?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” he said. To his credit, he didn’t let the annoyance he must have felt show. “It won’t take long, but I would prefer to speak of this in private.”

“Of course, of course.” I opened the door, and Upper Crust took enough of the hint to walk out. “Take care,” I called, before closing it again. I turned back to the two remaining ponies. “Now, Count Hoof. What can I do you for?”

Gilded Hoof shot a look at Blueblood from the corner of his eyes. “…In private,” he stressed.

“Nonsense,” I said. “Ambassador Blueblood is an invaluable member of my inner circle. Whatever you wish to say to me, you can say in front of him.”

“I’m afraid not,” he insisted. I narrowed my eyes.

“If you’re an assassin,” I said, slowly. “You’re not a very good one. If you can’t stand to discuss your business in his presence, then I’ll have to ask you to leave. I doubt the mail service is as experienced in the art of discretion as the Ambassador undoubtedly is.”

The count ground his teeth together, clearly frustrated. Blueblood looked between the two of us. “If my presence is not required,” he said, “then… I can just, go to the other room?”

“No,” said Gilded, apparently having conceded. “That is fine. You may stay.” He turned his irritated expression my way. “First Minister. I am here on behalf of the Chancellor of Public Information Dissemination. I have-”

“Court’s Eye?” Blueblood blurted out, clearly not having expected that to come out of his mouth. “You?”

He turned his fiery gaze to the Ambassador. “…Yes,” he said. “I am.”

“Uh, the human is lost.” I raised my hand like I was back in class, making both of them focus back to me. “Can someone explain? What is a Court’s Eye?”

“You- you really don’t know?” asked Blueblood, incredulous – among a couple of other emotional states. “Didn’t I tell you at some point?”

“No, you didn’t.”

Count Hoof regarded me with a cool gaze. “Court’s Eyes are ponies who work for the PID Chancellery, who ensure the good conduct of the nobility of Equestria. They are often assigned to specific nobleponies. I am attached to Lady Upper Crust, as you might have noticed.”

“Does she know?” I asked.

“Of course not. I work under the guise of her personal assistant.”

I blinked. “…Okay.” So Count Hoof is actually a spy? A domestic one? Wait, Public Information Dissemination? They’re spies? And Blueblood didn’t know? It was safe to say I had a lot of questions. “Oh, uh, yeah,” I started, at his continued staring at me. “Please, continue.”

“As I was saying,” he began. “I am here on behalf of the PID Chancellery, to ask for your permission to establish a presence in the Free State.”

…

“I’m sorry?” I asked, not quite believing what I had just heard. “Are you seriously asking me permission for that?”

“Yes,” he said.

“You’re asking my permission for you to spy on me?”

“Not on you,” he said. I suspected he was rapidly losing patience with me – though in my defense, he was talking some serious rubbish at me. “Foreign intelligence is beyond our duties. Court’s Eyes are only concerned with titled Equestrian nobility.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “Like Ambassador Blueblood?”

He glared at me. “Yes.”

“Mmm. I see, I see.” I nodded. “In that case, I’m afraid I’ll have to decline your proposition, on the grounds that it would infringe on our sovereignty if you were to do so, and would also compromise the security of the Free State, and also that you are an idiot.”

Count Gilded Hoof’s expression darkened, now. “Are you sure that is wise, First Minister? I was asked to provide you the courtesy of asking first, but-”

“But you don’t actually need it to be sent here,” I finished for him. “I know. That’s how espionage is supposed to work.” Now, my own expression had turned stormy – and my intimidation was a lot more effective than his was. “You know, Count Hoof, I don’t know how things work in Equestria, but back home, espionage is an offence punishable by summary execution. I suggest you tread carefully.”

“It is not our job to spy on you-” Gilded tried to explain, hiding his fraying nerves well, but I interrupted him.

“I don’t care. A spy is a spy – at some point, it might well become someone’s job to spy on me, instead of the good Ambassador here. That is not acceptable. I’ll give you two chances – this is your first. Your business here is concluded,” I finished. “Leave.”

“I must-”

“Out!” I pointed at the door.

Out Count Hoof went. He shut the door behind him with rather more force than necessary – I couldn’t tell whether it was from the way his conversation with me ended, or from the lack of manners his title had given him, or from the entitlement of his position in the Equestrian hierarchy, as a Court’s Eye, whatever that actually gave him. Doesn’t matter much in the end, I suppose. A knob is a knob, after all.

“Pillock,” I muttered, turning back – to see Blueblood sweating up a storm, looking like he was about ten seconds from falling over. “Whoa, Ambassador,” I exclaimed, rushing over to him in case he needed support. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” he got out, taking deep, shuddering breaths. “I-I am fine. Thank you.”

Wow. I’d never once seen Blueblood so shaken – not even when I threatened to feed him his own face back when we first met. A single, five-minute encounter with a supposed Court’s Eye, one Blueblood seemed to knowpersonally going by his reaction, was all it took to shatter him. I gave him a few moments to catch his breath and settle his heart before I started with the questions.

“Feel better now?” I asked. I kept a hand on his withers just in case, kneeling down to put myself on the same height level as him.

“A little,” he said, pressing a hoof to his chest. “Thank you, First Minister. I… was not expecting to deal with Court’s Eyes today.”

“Why not?” I was confused. “Today? Why’d you act like you’d seen a ghost, man?”

He turned his head back to look me in the eyes. “You wouldn’t understand,” he said, simply. “It’s court business. I…” His gaze unfocused, now looking more like he was trying to stare at the back of my head, through the rest of it, like it was a glass sculpture. “I’ve known Gilded Hoof seven years. He was… I always thought he had married into his title, or used to be somepony’s retainer before striking it in… Ye Maker, I even thought about ‘hiring’ him at some point! I had no idea… he was always so gregarious… I had no idea…”

Oh, right. Unfavourable comparisons to secret police from back home were making their way into my brain-pan. Finding out someone you knew for years was working for an agency specifically created to keep an eye on people like you… that couldn’t be a pleasant experience. Even if Blueblood did already know how it all worked, such a personal reminder would be memorable indeed.

“Hey, hey,” I called, shaking him gently to ground him back to reality. “Stay with me, Blueblood. You’ll be fine. He ain’t lookin’ for you. You’ll be fine.” Blueblood nodded absently, staring straight ahead, doing some kind of breathing exercise. He calmed down pretty quickly, fortunately, and turned around, shrugging off my hand.

“Thank you, Inns,” he said. “I believe I will be fine now. Was… there anything else you needed?” He nodded to the front door, but I pre-empted him.

“You mind answering some questions about what in the bloody hell just happened?”

“Go ahead.”

I paused, not having expected him to actually agree. Only one question came to mind. “…Am I gonna get in trouble for having called him an idiot?”

Another thing I hadn’t expected was for him to immediately burst into laughter. “Pfffffa ha ha haaaaaa!” A bemused smirk crawled up onto me. Well, uh, at least I took his mind off it? He soon recovered, though, and returned a significantly more amused smile to me. “Ah, heh, no, no you won’t. Like he said, they’re not here for you. Being truthful, some of my peers are likely already eyeing your Free State as a safe haven from the Chancellery.”

“All part of my mission statement,” I said. “Not my fault if Equestria disapproves of their government employees’ addiction to hookers and blow.”

“Blow?” parroted Blueblood.

I quirked an eyebrow, giving him a deeply shit-eating grin. “What, not gonna question the first one?” The look on his face made me break out into full-on cackling. If only I could’ve snapped a photo of him! “Nah, nah,” I waved off, after a few moments of uncontrollable laughter, having saved myself from tipping over by planting my hands on my knees in the nick of time. “Just messin’ with ya, Blueblood. Ain’t none of my business what you do in your free time. As long as you aren’t skimping on your duties here while you’re doing it,” I added, as an afterthought.

“I would never,” he said. The mirth in his voice was lacking, which I picked up quickly.

“What? Too afraid of Baron Titwank, or whatever his name was, to live a little?”

“Count Gilded Hoof,” he amended instinctively, then glared at me. “And yes, as a matter of fact. A member of the royal family cannot be seen doing such atrocities.”

Now, my eyebrows shot right up into the air. “Really? Then why’s Celestia keep trying to get into my pants?”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, I get it,” I continued, pretending I didn’t just say that to his face. “’Rules for thee, but not for me,’ is that it? So Celestia’s fine, but her nephew, oh goodness me no, that’s just too far! I bet whoever’s topping the Chancellery gets away with nightly threesomes, and gargling entire swimming pools of meth water! I’m getting torn here, on whether I call Equestria an aristocracy or a full-blown caste society!”

Blueblood chose to reply to only one part of my inflamed ramblings. “Not even Celestia is above the law, First Minister.”

I inhaled, ready to retort in one fashion or another, before the breath left me in a grim exhale. I crossed my arms, darkly amused. “But someone is, right? Otherwise you’d have said so.”

Then, a piercing stare from the pony in front of me left me rooted to the spot. “Yes,” he said, sounding more serious than I’d ever heard him. “He is.”

…

I didn’t even have to ask.

“I have been immersed in Court intrigue for my entire life,” he began, stealing my habit of pacing back and forth. A distant gaze flew forth from his eyes, staring at a concerning amount of nothing. “I have partaken in every conceivable kind of political and social manoeuvring throughout it all – without it, I would not be the stallion I am today. Always, without fail, things are stopped before they escalate beyond control. Always.

“I knew a filly, once, long ago.” His voice withdrew almost within itself. I had to strain to hear the words themselves, let alone the reminiscent tone in them. “I knew her for twenty years. We practically grew up together. I thought… I…” A pause. “It doesn’t matter. She wasn’t nobility. Not landed, at any rate. She… didn’t have the foresight.” Whatever that phrase was supposed to mean, I had no clue. “An Eye overheard her. I… they couldn’t give the due process without backlash on me, since I had nothing to do with it. Maker, I tried to dissuade her. I just… I woke up one morning, and I never saw her again.” He broke his staring contest with the fabric of reality to throw me a glance that made him look a hundred and forty-five, in spite of his immaculate physical condition.

“The Chancellor is tasked to maintain the status quo of the Court,” he said, returning to his pacing. I only looked on, eyes wide, soaking the insight in like a sponge. “And thus, by extension, the whole of Equestria. If one tries to rock the carriage, they are lucky to receive a warning. If that doesn’t work, then… some administrative leave will do it. Not one pony who has ever tried to challenge the Chancellery has succeeded. I suspect not even Auntie Celestia is capable of properly muzzling them, any longer. Not permanently. Not without… changes.

“Make no mistake,” he told me. “He may come across as genial, even friendly, but that is all irrelevant to the authority the position confers to him. Chancellor Heartstrings is one of the most dangerous ponies in Equestria.” And you’ve started to make an enemy out of him, was what went unsaid, but I caught it all the same.

I stared.

Equestria… was not what I thought it was.

“…Thank you for your insight, Ambassador,” I said, not knowing what else to say. “I’ll keep it in mind. I, ah… I believe I won’t hold you any longer. You may leave-”

The door behind Blueblood opened abruptly, at which he spun around practically on a dime, visibly restraining himself from loosing a bolt of some spell or another at the intruder – who turned out to be a terribly anxious pegasus lady. “Is… this a bad time?”

“No, madam,” I replied, as Blueblood raised his head and broke out into an embarrassed flush. “We were just finishing up.”

“Yes,” agreed Blueblood, as the newcomer quickly stepped out of his way. He threw me one last glance. “Thank you for your time, First Minister. I shall send our guests on their way, and then retire to my quarters.” With quick steps, Blueblood disappeared into the outdoors.

“Come in, come in,” I beckoned to the pegasus, who quickly accepted my invitation, closing the door behind her. “What is it?”

“I was hoping to speak with you, First Minister,” she explained. Her low, smooth voice gave me pause, stopping me from replying reflexively.

“…Who are you, again? I feel like I know you from somewhere, but I can’t quite place it…”

“My name is Night Gown, sir,” she said.

Ah, yes! “Right,” I said. “You’re the metallurgist, aren’t you?”

“That’s right.”

I nodded, outwardly composed. Inside, though, my suspicions of her had returned in force. First this whole business with the Spy Who Told Me, and now the pegasus with an incongruous talent and a worse name asking for me? I didn’t like this business one bit.

“So,” I began. “You must be the assassin, then.”

“I am not,” she said, completely unruffled by the seemingly left-field assertion. “If I was, you would already be dead.”

Well then. This lady didn’t mess around. “…Okay,” I said. “That’s an interesting response to a statement like that.” She chose not to reply to that, so I continued. “Go on, then. State your business.”

She looked around, then, searching for something. “Are you sure this is private?”

“I thought you said you weren’t an assassin,” I snarked. “Yes, we’re about as alone as we can get. Barring Lyra, I suppose.”

“Lyra?”

“My room-mate. She’s in the bedroom, there.” I stuck a thumb out over my shoulder, pointing behind me. “I doubt she’ll disturb us, though. Get on with it, will you?”

Night Gown met my unimpressed gaze. “What do you know about thestrals?”

…

“The what now?”

She blinked, and cocked her head. “Thestrals. You know… batponies?”

I shook my head. “Never heard of ‘em.”

“Really?” Yep. “Bat wings, fangs, undying loyalty to her Highness, the Empress of the Night, ostracised from regular Equestrian society?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” I said, to which she huffed in amusement. “Quick rundown?”

“Thestrals,” she began, “are the fourth tribe of ponies. We are an offshoot of pegasi – solar pegasi, that is, since we are technically pegasi too.” At my impatient hand-waving, she frowned, but did keep going. “We lived in harmony with the other three tribes, since shortly after unification, until…” She bit her lip. “Until Celestia began to sideline her Highness.”

“Sideline?” I asked, frowning.

“Yes. Over time, her Highness – along with her thestrals – found herself less and less appreciated, both by Celestia and by the other tribes, used to living in the daytime. Every time she attempted to remedy the problem, Celestia would only dismiss her concerns. Nopony stepped up to defend her, or us.” A measure of venom had found itself into her speech. “Her Highness was forced to take matters into her own hooves. When diplomacy failed, she turned to violence… among other, more drastic means. And despite all our efforts, she was banished to the moon for a thousand years – only for the crime of wishing to be appreciated by her subjects, for her work. We’ve been relegated to myth and fairy tales ever since.”

I blinked. “Banished to the moon? For a millennium?”

“Yes. That was nine hundred, ninety eight years ago. Give or take a few weeks.”

“…So that was the civil war,” I muttered in realisation. Pieces of the Equestrian puzzle were falling into place, now. So ol’ Celly was sharing power with this ‘Empress of the Night,’ but Cel being the face of the Diarchy left them angry, so they tried to pull a coup and failed. Being sent to the moon for ten-to-the-xth years I could write off as magic, and therefore beyond my understanding. And then, Celestia naturally had to find someone to replace the first ‘second Diarch,’ and eventually settled on that Princess Luna – who, judging by the fact I hadn’t seen her personally even once, was just fine with being out of the spotlight. Ooh, is that why the recovery period took so long? ‘Cause she had to wait until she found another alicorn – one with the moon in their name, of course.

Oh. Wait. “So she’s coming back soon? Just under two years?”

“That’s right,” she confirmed.

Oh shit. I had something to mark on the calendar, then. ETA for Equestrian Civil War Two: Electric Vindaloo. Shit, I’ll have to make some plans, or something…

“Okay,” I said, reminding myself to write this all down at some point. “Is th-”

“You seem terribly unconcerned by the fact that I look like a solar pegasus,” she interrupted, frowning quizzically.

“Are you a thestral, then?” I asked, crossing my arms.

Now, I saw in her some measure of apprehension. Head recoiling backwards, like she just had a dagger thrust at her face, she trembled in place. “…Yes,” she said, her silky voice totally at odds with the fear bleeding through it.

“So… there must be a reason you don’t look like one, right? Assuming there are physical differences- oh, yeah, the bat wings, right? Do you just put a cover on them? Dye your wings to look feathery? You in a full-body rubber suit right now?”

“What? No. It’s a… an i-illusion. A magical one.”

I scoffed. “Of course it is. Magic. Fuckin’ ponies, man. Dispel it.”

I put an unusual amount of force in the command. My subconscious still hadn’t disassociated the word ‘magic’ from crackpot bullshit, in spite of it working as my A/C, fridge, transportation, day-night cycle, etc. etc. Maybe it was just because I didn’t understand it – plenty of things from back home would have been considered magical if they’d shown up a few hundred years in the past. Magic, after all, was a good alternate term for ‘insufficiently understood science.’

Regardless, the force of it did little to calm the pony in front of me, breaking out into fresh tremors. She looked at me from under her eyebrows, almost shamefully, almost as if I was forcing her to undress in front of me – a comparison accurate enough to immediately turn what little remained of my stomach. I quickly averted my eyes, disgusted at myself.

“I’m sorry,” I ground out. “I didn’t mean to sound like that. You don’t have to if it will make you uncomfortable.”

When I looked back, though… it was already too late.

What stood in front of me now was a completely different being. Whereas the pegasus from earlier was almost sickeningly colourful, this one was now clad in a much more subdued shade of dark grey, with a similarly darkened mane of midnight green. Hey eyes, previously bog-standard grey eyes, were now slit like a cat’s, almost glowing a brilliant orange. She was still looking quite like she’d wished to be anywhere else, but at the same time she splayed out her wings high to let me see them without turning – sure enough, leathery bat wings had replaced her bird-like ones.

Yeah. This was different. It was…

Alluring.

Being perfectly honest, I’d never really considered ponies attractive, physically at least. Two years in Equestria, without the company of other human beings – or, as a matter of fact, without much company of other beings at all –was still not quite enough to rewire me in that particular department. Sure, they were pleasant enough to spend time with, particularly Celestia – and now Lyra, I supposed – but the precisely four times I’d been clearly, straight-up propositioned, I’d turned ‘em down flat – even the two times I was drunk. This one, though, right in front of me… I’d have had some problems.

Lord save me. I’d just cracked one off to a pony for the first time. Not even Celestia could make me do that…

“…This is what thestrals look like,” she said, quietly, giving me an eyeful of her cute little fangs as she did. Clearly she was assuming some kind of usual reaction, instead of taking the time to simply look at my face.

“…Mmm,” I eventually hummed. “That’s certainly distinctive. I can see why you’d rely on disguises like that. Ethnic tensions always add a nice spicy zest to a political conflict, particularly once it ends. I approve.”

“You… you really don’t mind?” she asked, much more timidly than I’d come to assume from her.

I cleared my throat, suddenly uncomfortable, and averted my eyes in an effort to stave off a flush. “Well, uh, to be honest I don’t really mind either way. Do whatever makes you more comfortable, I suppose.” C’mon, take the bait, please…

I breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing the familiar pegasus illusion fade back in, like a mirage shimmering back to life in the desert heat. Normal ponies, at least, didn’t have the exotic tang that seemed to make the difference. The heat slowly radiated out of my face. “Thank you, First Minister,” she said, now much more at ease.

“Of course.” Then, my eyes narrowed. “So, what exactly was this all supposed to be about? You wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble just to, what, give me a history lesson? You gonna prove Santa Claus is real next?”

“No,” she said, smirking for just a second. “I came here to ask for your support in our struggle against the Tyrant Sun, once the time comes to overthrow her.”

…

Oh.

“…Okay,” I said, stalling for time, blindsided by that mission statement as I was. “Uhm… what, what exactly would that entail? I’m sure you understand I can’t make decisions like that just on a whim. Can you give me something more to work with?”

“The light of the sun blinds,” she hissed, “and the darkness of the night hides. Our brethren are held in chains by the reign of the Sun-tyrant, scouring us out from wherever she may find us, like we are mere cockroaches beneath her oh-so-mighty realm! Even before the Long Day, the daywalkers would scowl and spit at our hooves! And when the Sun-tyrant deigned to do nothing to defend us or our cause, our beloved Empress took it upon herself to rise to the occasion, so that all tribes of Equestria may live in peace and harmony!

“And what did she get for her efforts? Banishment. Sent away to the moon, the Empress’ own celestial body, for a thousand years, like a petulant foal being told to go to their room! And we, her most loyal defenders, cast out from civilisation, on pain of death should we ever attempt to return to our cradle and dare to show our true forms! Nightmare Night, once a celebration of the acceptance of thestrals into old Equestria, now turned a mockery of our Empress’ so-called apocalyptic evil!

“They call us bloodsuckers,” she spat, vibrating with suppressed fury. “Did you know that? The mothers of Equestria tell tales to their foals, of ‘vamponies’ prowling the streets at night, looking for daywalkers to suck dry and leave only dessicated remains. Our once-proud heritage, our lineage, our service to our civilisation, turned into a… a manticore under a foal’s bed.

“I heard about your speech, First Minister. You promised to take in whoever needed your help, the downtrodden and the forgotten. I am here… to ask for more. We want a place we can call our own, where we can walk freely, and not have to hide ourselves behind illusions, or distance, or a cell. We want a place where we can raise our foals and not have to teach them to fear for their lives whenever they see a daywalker pass them on the street. We want… we want vengeance.”

...Wow. That… was not something I expected. It was certainly a lot to take in. If what she was saying was actually true, of course, though going by the sheer vitriol she conveyed through her speech, it was quite likely.

Depressing as it was, the budding politician in me smelled blood in the water. Here was an entire group – a species – of oppressed beings, coming to my door and asking me for help. In exchange for what I assumed to be more of what I’d already done, I’d prevent shit being flung at them, so to speak, and curry favour with some sort of ‘empress’ in the process – one who must have been fuckin’ nuts to go against Celly, true, but at the same time I doubted she’d have tried to run up and start kicking her in the shins. There must have been some serious big guns in play.

Unfortunately, that same budding politician smelt some fishy business to go along with it all.

“Who do you mean by ‘we?’” I asked.

She drew herself up, then, in a pose I swiftly recognised as a pony ‘at attention,’ and gave a salute – not the one I knew that was of the Royal Guards; this one was closer to a bow, with head hung moderately lower, held for a second, along with a hoof to the chest. “Dame Night Gown, officer of the Lunar Corps, at your service.” She raised her head back up. “We seek your support to overthrow the Sun-tyrant, and allow the Empress of the Night to take her rightful place.”

I inhaled.

There’s the catch.

“I see,” I said, flatly. “My turn, then, to speak, if that’s fine?” A nod allowed me to continue. “How much, exactly, do you know about me?”

“Well, I-”

“About my relationship to Princess Celestia?”

“I-”

Nope. “Do you know how this Free State even came to be? What do you really know about it? Anything at all?”

A short, sour silence spun forth before Night Gown replied, a little irritated. “I read a transcript. Of your speech. I also… observed the citizenry. Discreetly.”

“Residents,” I corrected. “Not citizens, yet. I was just wondering, since you seem to be terribly poorly informed. Celestia gave me the land and the title. She gave me the workers. I suspect she sent a few of her own less fortunates herself, too. Not to mention my, oh yeah, friendship with her.” Night Gown’s expression was now carefully blank. “You ponies make shit spies, you know that?” I couldn’t resist a dig. One of the corners of my mouth turned up. “First Baron Titwank asks me to my face if it’s okay to spy on me, and now you try to enlist my help in turning Celestia into Louis the Sixteenth, even though she’s pretty much my closest friend.”

“So you won’t help us?” she asked.

Here, I sucked in a breath, the air hissing through my clenched teeth. “…How much of your oppression spiel you gave me was the truth?”

“All of it,” she said, immediately. Her face scrunched in distaste. “If that Ambassador of yours saw me without my disguise, he’d probably start casting straight away.”

Then it was my turn to scowl in disgust. Assuming she was telling the truth – which, despite my sunny optimism, I had little reason to doubt, especially considering ponies’ recent track record with keeping information secret – that put me in a little bit of a bind.

On the one hand, I had an entire species of beings that were… let’s charitably call it ‘systematically oppressed’ by Equestria, and had been for a millennium, at the very least, most likely longer. So much so that stories about them had entered folklore as spooky scary monsters that’ll come eat kids who stay up too late, or some other such nonsense. Fuckin’ ponies, man. Can’t even do racism without being twee.

But, on the other hand… they were, as far as I understood things, still belligerent towards Equestria, in particular the current Diarchy. Night Gown had all but told me that their goal was regime change, to place their own ruler on the throne. Back home, any nation that tried something like that would immediately be accused of harbouring terrorists – and let me tell you, I didn’t want to go the way of Operation Iraqi Freedom. I’d be all but throwing my hat in the ring alongside them, if I were to just straight-up let them in – but at the same time, it was precisely the moral thing to do. To not even be allowed to show themselves as they are, lest they be killed…

“Night Gown.” The pony in question instantly snapped to attention. “Do you speak as a representative of your organisation?”

“I do.”

Oh good. That simplifies things. “Unfortunately, it is not in the interests of the Free State to interfere in Equestrian internal affairs,” I began, as tactfully as I could, “nor is it to declare hostilities with them, by allowing your organisation to settle and operate here.” Before she could say anything, though, I kept going. “However. It would certainly be a shame if… ponies such as yourself were to continue to have nowhere to settle and show yourselves fully. If you are… willing to commit to peace for as long as you choose to stay here, then I see no reason to deny you passage, or shelter, and certainly I would abhor hunting you merely for the ‘crime’ of being born a thestral.” I smiled. “Of course, if any of you wish to pledge yourselves to me, then that is a different story – as long as you agree to be beholden to Free State laws, you would be granted protection under them, as citizens.”

I inhaled, holding it for a beat. Would it be wise to say that? I’d practically be inviting them to fuck with her. And with me, too, come to think of it… nah, they’ll probably do that anyway. But then what would be the harm…? I decided to merely exhale, and wait for her response.

One that was slow to come, I saw. Her head was low, eyes closed, meditating deeply. Perhaps considering how best to convince me to join their cause. I worried that I might have come off too strongly, throwing the option of poaching them for myself so blatantly in their faces. Then, I blinked, realising what this ‘Empress’ would have to say about it. Oh. Uh… let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.

“Is there anything we could do to convince you?” she asked, eyes still closed.

I sighed. “Look, Night Gown. I feel for ya, really, I do. If it wasn’t for your whole ‘overthrowing the government’ business, I’d be trumpeting your cause ‘till I was blue in the tits. But, really… if you’re serious about what you intend, then I really can’t do any more than… well, what I’ve already told you.”

“Okay.” She nodded, a little melancholy, looking up and managing a fragile smile. “I suppose that’s the best I could ask for.” I rolled my eyes at the pretty blatant emotional manipulation, but I couldn’t resist kneeling and stretching my arms out for a hug.

“C’mon, don’t be like that,” I said, fighting a smile. “I can at least treat you like people. Get over here.” Fuckin’ ponies, man. It must have been some kind of compulsion. Ponies just couldn’t resist a chance at physical contact – and neither could this one, eagerly trotting up to me and throwing her hooves around me -

Pop!

and the moment she made contact, her pegasus form dissolved with an audible crack, complete with a slight breeze washing over me. I recoiled instinctively, just about toppling over, saved by a conveniently-placed wall to my back. The pegasus – thestral, I corrected myself – didn’t get off so lucky, staggering backwards in a daze before collapsing bonelessly to the floor.

“Urgh…” she moaned, mushing her face together with her two front hooves as if to try to regain sensation in her muzzle. “What was that?”

“Oh shit!” I scrambled back up and over to her, kneeling down – but not actually sure what help I could give her, considering the situation. “You okay? Shit, I should really have known better… god damn it! You good?”

“Yeah, yeah…” she groaned, shakily getting her hooves back under her. “I’ll be fine. Just, some magical fatigue. I’ll… what was that?”

“Sorry. I really should have told you first.” I helped her get back on all fours. “I dispel magic on touch. Don’t ask me how it works, ‘cause I don’t know. You said your illusion was magic, and I just didn’t put two and two together. Again, I’m sorry.”

“Mmm.” Wow, okay, she needs a lie down, or a can of Monster or something. “That’s neat… hey, you mind laying me down in a bed somewhere for a while?”

“Sure, sure,” I said, already guiding her over to my couch. “Take your time.” I was going to say something after that, something about how long it would have taken her to get back to a hundred percent, but she just had to turn her head and give me an ‘I just woke up from two hours of sleep and I’m late for an open-heart surgery’ smile that showed just a hint of fang, and all at once I was made very much aware of the fact I was practically holding a thestral mare in my arms.

…Oh jeez, that’s… whoof.

“…You’ll be fine,” I instead said, lamely, trying to fight off yet another blush as I set her down on the couch as gently as I could. “Hang on, I’ll get you some water.”

“Thanks…”

Back home, when I was a younger boy, hearing my parents talk to each other in bed before they went to sleep used to piss me off to no end. It may have been just my own idiosyncrasies at work, but just the feeling of the vibrations of the speech running though my bed, in the room just next to theirs, drove me up the fucking wall. The snoring was a lot worse, of course, if I had the misfortune to stay awake long enough to hear it, but rarely was I spared the pillow talk.

Maybe that was where I got my disdain for social interaction; since my father was such a bloody loudmouth, who by my estimate went an average of twenty-two seconds between spouting yet more inanity to kill a few hundred more neurons in my brain at a time, I compensated by speaking as little as humanly possible – to other people, at any rate. Fortunately, I’d mostly moved past that particular instability in Equestria. Being one’s own audience tired quickly here.

In short, what I mean to say is that Christ on a bike, when did I become my fuckin’ dad? I was only in the middle of my third decade of life, and already…

“…they really don’t like being called that, Ly,” I was saying to my bed-mate, as I stared up at what I was pretty sure was the ceiling of my room. It was surprisingly hard to tell in the pitch-black of night. “They’re exactly what they say they are: foals’ tales, twisted over a thousand years of legend into a story you can tell your kids to make them behave.”

“Sure,” she mumbled. Lyra was a lot closer to falling asleep than I was, having gotten into bed a few minutes before I did. “But that doesn’t mean there aren’t vamponies around. Maybe they’re just other, meaner batponies, and they just got lost one day?”

“Got lost,” I repeated with amusement. “Now that’d be something. Face it, Ly. It’s just stories.”

“Nuh-uh,” she said intelligently.

“Yuh-huh,” I responded, equally intelligently.

Apparently it was too much for her to overcome, as after a brief period of silence during which I thought Lyra would finally try to fall asleep now, she changed the topic. “What about your earlier guests? The ones Blueblood brought?”

“You mean Upper Crust and Titwank?” I asked. “Them?” Then… “Wait, what do you mean, ‘the ones he brought?’”

“Well, they came with him, and Construct said he was going to Canterlot. So he must have taken them with him when he went to come back.”

I blinked, the gumminess in my eyelids continuing to put up only token resistance. “Huh. Guess that’s another thing that slipped my mind. Must have been just a tour or something. Hmm…” Now that I was putting my mind to it, some things did come up odd to me. “Yeah… Blueblood totally bailed me out with that treaty thing. Not that I was gonna say yes either way, but it seemed almost like he was trying to deliberately sink that deal… eh, must just be more ‘court business’ or whatever.” Doubt Upper Crust’s gonna play nice with him, now. Or me, for that matter.

“Treaty thing?” asked Lyra, sounding one step closer to passing out.

“Yeah,” I said. Sleep continued to elude me, to my frustration. All my years of drinking coffee out of buckets finally caught up to me… “Upper Crust wanted to buy all my minerals in exchange for giving us food until the harvest came in. It would really have screwed me over in the long run, so I said no. Well, I mean I’m going to say no, in a few days, but you know what I mean.”

“Mmm…” Lyra crooned out, sounding almost like a zombie laying next to me. “And…” A yawn split her sentence in two. “…the other pony?”

“Oh, Count What’s-his-name? Feh!” An amused sort of sigh left me. “What an idiot. Comes right up to me and asks, to my face, if it’s okay with me for him to spy on me pretty please? Unbelievable. Can’t have imagined MI5 knocking on my door and offering me an au-pair at their expense, let me tell you.”

“Spy?”

“Yeah. Said he was a Court’s Eye. Apparently the Ambassador has some history with him specifi-”

“Court’s Eye?”

In retrospect, I probably should have noticed Lyra stiffening up like a board first, pulling the sheets taut over me. At the very least, the sheer, unadulterated panic in her voice gave it away to my presently-dilapidated brain, telling me that something was seriously wrong here.

“Yeah,” I said, turning my head to attempt to face her – though it was still the middle of the night, the moonlight outside was enough for me to at least make out shapes. “Court’s Eye. From the Chancellery. You-”

The question died on arrival. I felt the tremors running though the fabric over me. Clearly, Lyra was not fucking okay. “No,” she whispered to herself. “No, no, no no no…” The tremors steadily grew worse.

“Hey, Ly?” I reached out, alarmed at the sudden breakdown.

“Nononono, this can’t be, this can’t be happening…” The moment I felt her fur against my hand, she snatched at it like a drowning man, using it to orient herself and launch directly into my side. I winced at the sudden impact, then let out a groan of discomfort at the vice grip enveloping my left side.

“Ow! Hey, ease up, girl, you’re…” Yeah, is now really the time, moron? Lyra was practically shaking. Her breathing steadily became less even and controlled; laboured gasps broke through every so often; perhaps attempts to moan out more denials, perhaps not. Hell, I even felt her start burning up where fur met skin. Now was probably a bad time to tell her to ease up on the hug.

“Easy, Lyra,” I spoke, low and soft, drawing my arms around her as much as I could, in an embrace I hoped she took as protective. It took me far longer than I would have liked to figure it out: Lyra was in the middle of a panic attack. A pretty nasty one, going by how quickly it had set in. I had to pull her out of it, stat. “Easy. You’ll be fine, Lyra. You’ll be okay. It’s just us two here, just us. You’ll be okay, Ly.”

It wasn’t working terribly well. I felt her start full-on convulsing, her gasps devolving into stale wheezing. “Lyra, Lyra,” I called, trying not to fall into a panic myself. “C’mon, Ly, you can do it, I know you can! Just…” Come on, something has to work! “Just focus on my voice, okay, Ly? Can you do that? I’m right here, with you, and I’m not goin’ anywhere, okay? Just focus on my voice…”

I had to lean over to one of her ears to make sure I was coming through loud and clear – and, fortunately, that seemed to start doing the trick. Little by little, the convulsions eased up, the pressure on my ribs abated, and Lyra’s tortured wheezing downgraded instead into the gasps of someone who’d just run a marathon or three.

Jesus fuck. This isn’t good. “Better?” I asked her, to which she managed only a jerky nod, one I felt more than saw. “Okay, good. Just keep focusing on me, alright? Don’t fall back in there, okay?” Another nod. “Good girl.”

Eventually, finally, her panic died down to a simmer, the tremors beginning to feel more like momentary cramps than anything. I kept murmuring into her ear the whole time, giving her something to focus on, hoping beyond hope I wasn’t making things worse somehow. Her breathing evened out, into slow, deep gulps of air, like that of a drowning man having just been rescued.

“Okay,” she whispered, her breath tickling my shoulder. “Thank you, Adam.”

“Always,” I returned.

I let a few moments of silence hang in the air before driving them out once more. It was safe to say that neither of us were going to sleep any time soon. “Has that happened to you before? The… panic attack, I mean.”

The shake of her head told me she wasn’t up to speaking much any longer. That was fine. “Was it because of that Court’s Eye pony?” This time, a nod confirmed my suspicions. “You… do you think they’re looking for you?” A long, long time passed before I felt another nod. “Would you like to talk about it?” A shake. “Okay. I won’t ask if you don’t want me to.” She tightened her hold on me.

Fuck it. I rolled over to my side, and pressed the terrified unicorn mare right into myself, hugging her with both arms. She let out a small squeak, but soon began to relax into my hold. Instinctually, I stroked her mane with a hand, keeping the other on her back, comforting her more like a pet than another human being – but I knew it was helping her.

“Don’t worry, Lyra,” I whispered, as she began to almost flow back down onto the mattress, like sand pouring through my fingers. “You’ll be okay here, I promise.”

“Will you keep me safe?” she asked, voice quiet yet brittle like glass. “Please, don’t let them take me…”

“I promise,” I repeated. “You’ll be okay here.”

There goes that rat bastard’s second chance, I thought, as Lyra drifted off to an uneasy sleep. Next time I see him, he’s getting a boot up his arse.

You’ll be okay, Lyra. I promise.

15. Growing Pains V – Out of the Frying Pan...

For possibly the first time since the Free State became a reality, it was not a fine sunny day out today. Dim grey clouds carpeted the sky, casting the settlement under a sickly torpor that looked like it was going to last the rest of the week. It was, for once, a fitting accompaniment to the State, matching the aesthetics of the weather to the situation on the ground.

Construct still wasn’t back yet. I’d heard no news from that front, and neither had Blueblood, when I’d asked him. Sure, Manehattan was a long way away, but… shouldn’t have there been something? Regardless, while I waited for her return (or, indeed, anything at all from her), we were making do with foraging, which was still going strong.

I’d indulged yesterday, allowing myself to eat an actual mostly-full meal in the afternoon. At home, naturally; I wasn’t about to enjoy a nice three-course steak dinner in front of starving ponies – this wasn’t Venezuela, after all. The temporary absence of the hunger I’d gotten mostly used to over the past month or so was both incredibly uplifting, and incredibly depressing. By now, though, it was back to the usual Great Leap Forward cuisine, and the hunger was already back home.

Anyway. Things continued to sputter along here, as well as they could. Construct’s crew were still going at it, whipping up living space like nothing else. The residents were pretty much all in the forest, of course. The citizens, though…

Lyra had become distractingly clingy. Ever since she’d heard about the Court’s Eye visit a few days ago, she had simply refused to leave either my line-of-sight, or my left side. I felt a little bad for resenting the lack of privacy she now afforded me – Lyra clearly had some trauma related to those people, even if she refused to tell me what it was. Hell, she grew up in Canterlot: she probably was a noble at some point, before running away after a love affair gone wrong or something. In any case, she was here, and she was not keen on the idea of going back.

All the same, though, the constant close contact grated on me. I valued my time alone greatly, and hated when it was interrupted. It was part of the reason I asked to live as far away from civilisation as I could manage in the first place, after all. I could only hope that she eventually got over it, or at least just her need to be near me.

Well, so much for that now, I thought, with tortured amusement. Might as well strap all these chucklefucks to my stomach for all the space they’re gonna give me. The image brought an exhale out of my nose, as much amusement as I usually dared to express at myself.

“Adam?” asked Lyra, from (where else?) my side.

“It’s nothing,” I dismissed flatly.

We were meandering our way around the settlement at the moment, for lack of actual work to do. I hated feeling like a lazy bum, content to sit on my throne and let the peasants do all the work, but there was still very little physical labour for me to do (that I could do competently, I mean). About the most of it would be to join the hauling brigade, and Shuffle Top had already told me that she wasn’t going to allow me to do that any more, for medical reasons. She had a good point, too; one half-decent meal didn’t really even start chasing away the specter of malnutrition hovering over me.

That left me with only humping my desk as respite from the clutches of doing bugger-all… a typical day in the Free State gave me five, maybe fifteen minutes’ worth of paperwork, meetings, etc. so that was out too. All I could give myself was busywork, the prospect of which filled me with existential despair. There would be time for it later, when it would actually be relevant. Until then, I was going to hold off on designing a coat of arms.

Instead, I defaulted to my final remaining back-up: look busy. After all, the First Minister of the Free State just wandering around with a determined look in his eyes, why, he must be up to something important, surely! It couldn’t possibly be something as inane as just walking circles around town in a daze!

It was.

That is to say, until it wasn’t.

Rounding a corner of a residential house, I saw a bright purple unicorn stallion coming our way, a good distance away. Lyra hesitated, just for a moment, though soon dashed back up to my side when I continued without breaking stride. I was pretty sure I knew who he was, since purple was a pretty rare colour for a pony’s coat, and I knew none of my residents with that colour were both unicorns and stallions. (By now, I’d read the census data nineteen times. I wasn’t sure what that said about me.)

“Good day, sir,” I called out, making him snap his gaze to me. “Might you be who I think you are?”

“Er…” Apparently he hadn’t expected me to show up in his day today. “Maybe? Have we met?”

“No,” I said. “You our doctor?”

“Oh, yes!” Closing the distance between us seemed to set him more at ease. He nodded at me in lieu of a handshake, which I didn’t begrudge him for; goodness only knew where he’d been. “Doctor Sawbones, at your service! General practitioner and potiologist!”

I stared. “Really? Your name is actually Sawbones?”

“Yep!”

…Of course it is. The day I meet a pony whose name doesn’t describe them in some way is the day I keel over dead. He seemed like a pleasant enough chap, I supposed, with a bright smile and a sparkle in his eye that spoke of him not having spent terribly much time here yet. Well, either that, or he was very good at hiding some kind of murderous psychopathy. Could he be a kindred spirit?

“First Minister Inns. Good to meet you. Have you got everything you need set up here already?” I asked, continuing my walk to nowhere in particular, beckoning him to follow.

“More or less,” he confirmed, coming up onto my right side, opposite Lyra – who, now that I was paying attention to her, was staring at him quite intensely. Paranoia was not something I’d expected her to fall to… even though people really were out to get her. Almost certainly, anyway. Maybe she recognised him from somewhere?

“The clinic’s a little more cramped than I’m used to,” continued Sawbones, ignoring or not noticing the attention. “And a few useful gadgets I’m going to miss, for a few months at least. On the whole, though, I can’t really complain. Certainly better than some places I’ve worked at, let me tell you.”

“We have a clinic?”

Sawbones threw me a glance. “…Yes? Where else would I have set up?”

I shook my head. “Huh. Wonder why Shuffle didn’t tell me that.” Then, I blinked, realised a few things I really should have recalled earlier, and facepalmed. “Oh, goddamn it.” The exclamation was targeted both at my idiocy, and the fresh grease stains on my lenses. I took my glasses off and held them up to my mouth, exhaling on one of the lenses and wiping it clean with my T-shirt.

“I could’ve sworn I told Construct to – haaaa – remind me to ask about you. Damn, no wonder you’re already set up and working. You – haaaa – you are working, right?”

“Yep.”

“Right, that’s good. Anything I should know about – haaaa – first of all?” Finding my lenses no longer opaque, I put my glasses back on.

“Nnnnot that I can recall,” he said, drawling the words out in deep thought. A door slamming open nearby made him jump, and he took a moment to glare at the offender. “I don’t think so. Oh,” he started. “Actually, there is one thing. So far, pretty much everypony who’s asked for a check-up has been in some stage of malnutrition. Starvation, specifically. Most are only at stage one, thank the Maker, but a few of the leaner ponies are already at stage two.”

I grimaced. “Yeah, you’ll be seeing a lot of that for the next few months.” At his alarmed glance, I explained. “Our next harvest is at around October, November, and right now we only have food stored for the next… six days, I believe. For all of us here, I mean, the, er, seven hundred and something. Minus Construct’s workers, they still eat from the Crown. It’s going to be a long while we’ll be rationing for.”

He frowned. “…That’s not good. There’re a lot of ponies here that are in trouble.”

“Your grasp of the obvious is inspiring,” I drawled. “Believe me, I know. I’m the idiot that’s responsible for ‘em all. I’ve… I’m doing all I can to fix it.”

“And you, First Minister? Do you intend to visit me for a check-up yourself?”

I smirked. “How much do you know about human physiology?”

“…Not enough,” he admitted. “There isn’t much literature on you, as you might imagine. All I have to work off of is a physical description, and my own observations.”

“Mmm.” My non-committal hum was taken as the end of the topic of conversation. I found myself somewhere at the outskirts of the settlement, facing towards a landscape of rolling hills. I turned back, ready to meander my way through my state all over again. “Well, I suppose I shouldn’t keep you from your work. I’ll let you go, doc.”

“Thanks,” he said, and immediately took off at a canter. “Until next time, First Minister!”

I watched him go, until he turned a corner and vanished from view. Should probably make a note of where exactly that clinic is. Might not be useful for any surgery, but at least I won’t have to worry about cutting myself in the kitchen any more.

“I don’t like him,” declared Lyra, looking up at me. “He’s too cheerful.”

I snorted. “You only say that because you like me, and I’m miserable.”

“I do not,” she said, just a little too quickly. “I mean it. There’s something… off about him.”

“What? You think he’s a ‘vampony?’ Ly, he’s a unicorn.”

She frowned at me, now. “I’m being serious, Adam.”

“You know, I didn’t take you for a conspiracy theorist. He’s just a doctor. Believe me, back home, any doctor who goes at it long enough sees some serious nasty business. That man – stallion, excuse me – has probably seen a lot more fucked-up shit than a bunch of people who aren’t eating quite enough at the moment. Christ.” I snorted. “Even I’ve seen more fucked-up shit than that. Trust me, I ain’t about to run around screaming like a headless chicken. Well, maybe,” I amended. “Not yet, perhaps.”

Lyra stared at me, an incomprehensible look on her. I stared back, waiting for her to say something – which, eventually, she did. “…How can a headless chicken scream?”

I chuckled, and began trekking once more. “Figure of speech, Ly. Don’t worry about it.” Besides, I thought. It’s probably just her fear of those Court’s Eyes again.

The doctor’s words did, however, give me an unexpected inspiration, as to what to do with the rest of my day. I was isolating myself in my house quite profoundly at the moment. Hell, I was isolating myself quite profoundly in general, at the moment. This was the first time I’d talked to, even seen him in the Free State, a good chunk of time after that should have happened. He didn’t even seem terribly busy with work, at a glance anyway.

I was beginning to feel rather under-informed about what was going on here. Shuffle Top, bless her heart, just wasn’t the same as good old dependable Construct, despite her best efforts. I was going to have to get hands-on to find anything out. At least for the moment, for as long as ‘the Free State decision-making apparatus’ was going to be a synonym for only my own damn self.

Ugh. In short, I was going to have to do… social interaction. Actual, genuine small-talk. With strangers.

…Or, maybe not. I was pretty sure I remembered where Hooves and Deft lived. Naturally, I hadn’t seen them for a fuckin’ while, either. I was never a very sociable person, but I was pretty sure having only two people I could credibly call ‘friends’ was not a sign of success. At any rate, Lyra and I were soon at the door to the house I thought they lived in. When, yielding to my not-quite-insistent knocking, the door opened, I did not, however, find the pony I was looking for.

“Yes? Oh, First Minister!” A dark cyan earth pony mare had answered the door, and was in the middle of a bow that was far too reverent for comfort. I didn’t recognise her. “Please excuse me, I didn’t expect you to visit!”

Correction.

I was pretty sure I didn’t remember where Hooves and Deft lived.

“Is… there something I can do for you?”

I blinked, and recomposed myself. “Oh, no, sorry. I just, ah, got a little mixed up here. I’m looking for somepony else. Someone else, whatever…” I trailed off, hit by a thought. “But, since I’m here… do you have time for a quick chat, perhaps?”

The mare finally raised herself up from the bow, and nodded vigorously. “Of course, of course, it’s an honour! Please, make yourself at home!”

I gingerly stepped inside, to be greeted by the typical Free State accommodation. Immediately it was obvious that a few more than four ponies called this building their home, going by the beddings and sheets laid out on the floor, scattered about randomly, though not thickly enough to impede movement. At the moment, it seemed like the pony ahead of me was the only one in the building.

Lyra followed me, much more cautiously, into what passed for the living room here, more a common room than anything. Here were sleeping spots, too. I took a seat on a wooden chair that was clearly built for a pony, while Lyra decided to stay standing – right next to me, of course.

I declined any refreshments – I was a little surprised that they had any coffee here at all, but decided not to press my luck with my blood pressure. Lyra similarly refused. I could tell the other mare, who finally remembered to introduce herself as Slicky, was a little put out by Lyra’s presence, but she kept any comments to herself.

Finally, the moment arrived when Slicky asked me, “So, First Minister. What did you want to talk about?”

“Oh, you know…” I waved a hand in the air. “Stuff. How’s life here going? It everything you thought it would be?”

“And more!” gushed Slicky. “I honestly can’t thank you enough for the opportunity you’ve given me, here, First Minister!”

...Really now? “I’m glad to hear it,” I said instead, making Lyra’s head turn my way. “Least someone’s not a glum chum ‘round here. So have you settled in nicely already? Made some friends? I hear you ponies are big on that kind of thing.”

“I sure have!” replied Slicky. For all her blatant sincerity in her voice, it still managed to ring hollow. “Even though ponies here aren’t as friendly as the ones in Equestria, they’re still nice deep down. I met this nice colt on foraging duty a few days back, Snapper. He was a little nervous when I started talking to him, but he’s really just a big softy!”

“Uh-huh,” I said. “And foraging duty? Did… do you enjoy it?”

Finally, something that wasn’t blind joy filtered through her. “Well… it’s not what I imagined I’d be doing here… but if it helps the community then I can’t complain!” …for all of a few seconds.

“Mmm.” Well, fuck it. Might as well make it plain. “Any complaints you might have for me? Regarding leadership, perhaps? Anything like that?”

“No sir!” she replied, as cheerful as ever despite the brand-new crease on her muzzle, like she’d smelled something foul. “I know I sure couldn’t do a better job here!”

“Really.” My flat stare only now began to unsettle her, perhaps sensing she’d said something a little more inflammatory than she intended. “Maybe you’ve just misunderstood me. When I said ‘any’ complaints, I meant it.” She inhaled to speak, but I kept going to cut her off. “You hungry?”

“Yes,” she said immediately, reflexively, then moved to cover her mouth with a hoof – far too blatantly to even attempt to then be passed off as a mere twitch of the foreleg. “Uh, I mean… I just, haven’t gotten my afternoon meal yet…”

I rolled my eyes. Honestly, I wasn’t even all that irritated. My first ever suckup-to-authority. I ought to have celebrated this as a rite of passage, by all accounts, knowing that I’d finally made it as a political figure. Besides, better suckups than enemies. “Yeah, sure, Slicky. If I’d wanted your bullshit, I’d have asked for it. I want your opinion. How are things on the ground, really?”

The mare bit her lip for a few seconds, looking at me guiltily. Maybe she was weighing the possibility that I was trying to bluff her or something, looking for an excuse. I couldn’t tell, and didn’t really care, opting to lean back as far as I dared and cross my arms, continuing to stare the whole time. I saw, out of the corner of my eye, Lyra stand up and give some kind of encouraging gesture to the mare, with an upturned corner of her mouth to go along with it.

Finally, the silence became too much to bear, and Slicky burst. “Look, we know things are bad here, we know. That one pony you picked up like a foal the other day, came back looking like he misplaced his tail up his plot, he told a few what you told him.” And, naturally, they told others, who told others, and so on. “We know there’s no food here, we know there’s no food growing here, we know that we have to go out into the forest and gather or starve. That we have to work, or starve.”

“But?” I guessed.

“It doesn’t mean you have to like it,” Lyra cut in, earning twin glances of surprise from us.

“…Yes,” admitted Slicky. “We don’t like it. I don’t like always feeling hungry, and tired, and sad.” That last word, she said quietly, slowly, almost unintentionally. “And I know many other ponies here feel the same way.”

“So why stay?” I asked the half-million pound question. “If it gets too much for you, why shackle yourself to a failing state? Why not leave?”

“Where else would we go?” asked Slicky, with venom that fit her previously-upbeat tone even less than the previous despairing confessions. “San Palomino? The Frozen North? Griffonia? I can at least take my chances here, instead of meeting some worse fate for sure over there.”

“And Equestria?”

“Pah,” she sneered. “That sun-arsed bitch wouldn’t care about us even if she got her horn out of her fat rutting plot and whipped the Court back into shape again. You knocked on my door right-up.” Her expression softened, into one of distressingly genuine awe. “You walked in here and sat down, and asked for my opinion. I’d have sworn an oath for you just for that.”

“And the bit where you blew smoke up my arse?” I prompted, to which Slicky at least had the decency to look abashed. “You were treating the First Minister in the Free State like you would have treated the Princess if you were back in Equestria, right? Just in case I gave you the ‘pillock pony’ treatment, like that knob you told me about?”

“Not because of that,” she said, growing increasingly ashamed. “It’s, just… ohh, nevermind.”

I didn’t press her. There wasn’t much fun in admitting to being a suckup, after all, or for getting said admission. “So… you’d rather take the risk of starving to death than go back to Equestria?”

Slowly, by degrees, her face contracted into a profound grimace. “...Yes,” she eventually said.

Now, the million-pounder. “Why?”

She didn’t reply immediately, instead choosing to turn and walk over to the window, gingerly stepping over the ‘beds’ on the floor. For a long time, all I heard was the rhythmic breathing of the mare still next to me, who was continuing to watch our exchange intently. Slicky’s breaths were comparatively almost unnoticeable – but still just barely audible.

Especially when they started picking up steam.

“…I would rather not talk about it,” she finally said, and turned back to me, staring blankly at the two of us.

Another Lyra, huh. I nodded in understanding. “You hate it,” I concluded. “Equestria, I mean. Violently?”

She hesitated. I suspected that wasn’t the question she thought I’d have led with, which at least gave evidence that there wasn’t more than one ‘Lunar Corps’ type of organisation running around – or, at the very least, they wouldn’t be ponies. Well, I amended, while waiting for a reply. They at least wouldn’t be running around as ponies.

Finally, Slinky gave the answer to my question. “Not as long as it stays away from me.”

I nodded again. “Do many ponies share your views?”

“I’m not sure,” she replied. “I try not to talk about topics like that. I think some do. Many, even.”

“Hmm,” I hummed. “So, if, hypothetically, a Diarchy relief caravan were to come here with food, enough to make all these problems we’ve got go away, though admittedly at some cost…?”

Wow. I didn’t think it was possible for a pony to snarl, but here I was being proven wrong.

“You wouldn’t be a fan?” I ‘guessed,’ smiling.

Inwardly, though, I was not very happy. If my assumptions were even partially correct, then there were a whole bunch of people here who would be very unhappy with any sort of co-operation with Equestria. Who cared where it all stemmed from, my best guess would be from absolutely anywhere. Hell, Hooves wasn’t a fan of the taxman, Lyra wasn’t a fan of the glowies, now Slinky here gave the impression that she wasn’t a fan of any of it at all. Given that Equestria was our biggest, and only, neighbour, as well as the most powerful nation on the planet, this was not a very welcome revelation.

Great. First chunk of Free State culture I get a glimpse of, and it’s fervent anti-Equestrian authority. If I wasn’t careful, I might accidentally turn the Free State itself into a Lunar-Corps-type of organisation. Which, I realised with a start, could now actually turn into a really big fucking problem. Who knows what their ethnic composition is, but groups like them thrive in places with sympathisers… which could now be a lot of us.

“Right, okay,” I said, standing up from my chair, resisting the urge to rub my sore backside in front of the two ponies. “I’ve taken up enough of your time here; I believe I’ll take my leave.”

“Sure thing, First Minister!” said Slicky, as she showed us out of her… house? Dormitory? I settled on ‘residence.’ “Come back anytime!”

I probably won’t, I snarked to myself, as the door closed behind us and we began trekking around the settlement once more.

...Thanks, though.

“Adam?” said Lyra, in her usual attempt to start a conversation with me. I obliged her, this time, even though my mind was now on bigger concerns.

“Yes, Lyra?”

She seemed to spare a glance at me, then thought better of whatever she was going to say initially. “…What’s on your mind?”

“Looks like we’ve got more in common with those thestrals than I thought,” I said, more mumbling to myself than trying to carry a conversation – though I still made sure she could hear me well enough. “I wonder how many ponies here share her outlook. I’m guessing it’ll be quite a few… fuck, should probably have seen it coming, what with the summer speech I gave practically asking for it in the subtext.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” I drawled. “If these ponies liked Equestria so much, they’d have stayed there, right? If they’d rather stay here and possibly starve than go back, then how, exactly, do you think they feel about it? True, she might not have outright said she’d fight against it with blood and steel… but at the same time, I don’t imagine it’d be very difficult to convince her to aid and abet people like Night Gown. Christ Almighty,” I groaned. “Less than a month in and I’ve already turned the White Tail Woods into fuckin’ Afghanistan.”

“Is that what you’re most concerned about?” asked Lyra.

“Not now,” I said. “Ideology takes second place to survival. Once we get out of our shit-pit, then I can worry about any Equestrian Liberation Armies running around.” My mood darkened, brought forth by future visions of the political landscape of my state. “Ooh, yes. Guess asking Celestia to bail me out is officially shafted, then. Fuck, you saw her hissing at me at the mere thought of Equestrian food relief, to say nothing of what others would think. If I actually went through with it, they’d probably have my head on a spike by the end of the day. Heh,” I chuckled mirthlessly. “Maybe you’d be with ‘em too, if it meant another Court’s Eye tagging along with ‘em.”

That was a pretty low blow, judging by how stiff Lyra became, now walking more like a marionette than a living being. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have brought that up again. But I think you get my point. If I actually… invited one personally, you’d probably feel pretty justified in that kind of reaction.”

“...Yeah,” she muttered.

Well. That’s one less conversation in the world. Great job, Inns.

Fortunately, the grim moment didn’t last for too long.

“First Minister Inns!”

Out of seemingly nowhere, Shuffle Top materialised in front of me, wings outstretched and face contorted in what I assumed to be some kind of botched plastic surgery routine. “First Minister!” she all but yelled directly into my face. “It… the plants… it works! It… magic…”

Okay, this woman was not making any sort of sense whatsoever. I grabbed her by the withers and gently shook her. “Hey, hey, Shuffle. Calm down. Use words, not syllables… no, don’t use gasps, I can’t understand those either. Words, lady. Come on, speak English, for fuck’s sake!”

It took some doing, but soon I’d penetrated her discombobulation long enough for her to start working on actual sentences. “The… the fields, they’re, they actually grow! You were right, First Minister, all it takes-”

As soon as it registered in my mind, I took off at a dead run towards the main crop field. Indignant squawks bloomed from behind me, but I paid them no heed. Bigger things were afoot.

I knew what Shuffle was talking about. The theory was right: all I had to do for the crops to grow was to touch what they grew out of. Everything else, tilling, planting, watering, all that was immaterial to me. All that mattered was that first, physical contact.

What Shuffle had just said to me had confirmed it once and for all.

As it happened, Construct (and then Shuffle, after the former left) had decided to run a little gamble on the agriculture a short while before she departed for Manehattan, confident as she was in her Thaum-agro department. She had taken her workers, all two dozen of them, away from their usual work for one day, and had set them on the field, sowing all those seeds I’d made a point of stuffing my hands into the sacks they were contained in. It had been incredible work, despite the necessity of avoiding the patches of crop that had already sprouted.

Seriously. Construct is a goddamn patron saint of excellence. I mean, fuck.

The next morning, she’d handed me a report of exactly how much she had done, which in my mind had essentially boiled down to ‘enough.’ Assuming a one-hundred-percent yield, her efforts would have sustained a population of about eleven hundred. I’d spotted a little bit of weaselling in there, I’d thought, since she did include those sprouts that were already there before she began, but it was food all the same, so I didn’t pay it any mind.

And now, as I skidded to a halt in front of the largest crop field I’d ever stood before, as I beheld the green gold just beginning to peek out from the soil that housed it, almost glittering like a brilliant cocoon cutting through the dreary humdrum of the overcast sky, I was just about floored by the realisation that it had actually fucking worked.

Holy shit. It’s growing. It’s… actually, growing.

I was overwhelmed, for the next few moments, with an admittedly melodramatic sense of indescribable relief. I almost couldn’t resist falling to my knees and prostrating myself – though I managed to hang on to at least some sense of dignity, instead letting a few shaky exhales convey my relief outwards.

We’ve done it.

My relief, though, was soon tempered, just in time for Shuffle to telegraph a landing next to me with a gust of wind. “First Minister!” she yelled. “What was that for?”

“Just had to see it for myself,” I replied flatly.

That’s one problem less, now, but one more is still with us. I could now at least stop worrying about the farming problem, but it still left me the question of how to get seven hundred chucklefucks and change through to the harvest. Our stocks were perilous as it was, and the foraging produce was already, slowly (very slowly) but steadily, tapering off. Two and a half months was a lot of time to starve in.

“You know,” began Shuffle. “I bet Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns would love to get their hooves on you.”

I smirked. “Somehow, I doubt that. It’s been a long time since I considered myself a man of science.”

“Not like that,” she clarified, entirely unnecessarily. “I bet they’d bankrupt Equestria for all the parchment they’d requisition to write about you.”

“Mmm,” I hummed, disinterested. I didn’t care so much about what I supposed had to be the biggest agricultural advancement since the invention of the practice – although, now that I thought about it, I could probably have found some way to spin it into an advantage. Something to note down for later, I suppose, when it becomes relevant. Rather, what I was now focusing on was -

Construct, as a matter of fact. Who was… now cresting the hill in the distance, to the north-east, a little to my left. Huh. Speak of the devil. She continued cresting the hill, rising up higher and higher, until it finally hit me that she was in the air, flying, like a pegasus would be. Shuffle Top, still at my right (now, perhaps finally, joined by Lyra on my other side, who was just staring), hopped up into a hover, waving her boss down.

Soon enough, Construct was coming in for a landing, scuffing the dirt with her hooves as she touched down. I stared at her as she casually strolled over to me, a big, goofy smile on her face that I had come to associate more with the two foals living in my house than the consummate professional in front of me. “First Minister,” she greeted.

“Construct,” I returned. “You’ve been gone a while.”

“Bit of a goose chase,” she said, rather more airily than usual, by way of explanation. “Got some tip-offs I had to chase down along the way. I think you’ll agree it was worth it.”

I quirked an eyebrow, amused. “You taken up Blueblood’s habit of cocaine tastings? ‘Cause I think this might be the most unhinged I’ve ever seen you.”

As if to prove my point, Construct merely turned to face the hillscape ahead, not dignifying me with a response. From a pony who usually limited emotional outbursts to twitches of their lip muscles, this was rather more unsettling than I was used to. Whatever she planned to unleash on me, it was going to be… memorable.

The three of us stood staring at where Construct leashed her gaze to – which, incidentally, happened to be an unremarkable patch of grassy hilltop, some thirteen hundred metres away.

We stared at it for a while.

Seriously. A long while.

“…c’mon,” Construct eventually muttered, slowly losing her composure. “Where the rutting Hells has it gone?”

…

“Must have been crack cocaine tastings,” I commented.

Naturally, though, just as I was about to set my mind on turning around and heading home – and just as Construct was about to lose her mind – a shape broke the uniformity of the horizon of the hill. Brown masses sprung up, one, then two, then five, then… lots. Lots and lots.

Massive amounts of equally massive pony-drawn carts were making their way down the hill and over to us. Construct turned back my way with a decidedly shit-eating grin on her, one I didn’t care for much until I realised what was supposed to be in those carts.

“…Report?” I asked her.

“Caught a lucky break,” she said. “Harvest season had just passed when I arrived, and some poor schmuck had the bright idea to try to sell grains to Manehattan. Ended up buying practically the whole stock at three-quarters of market value. Coupled with transportation costs, however, it ended up just barely scraping up to the budget, even with the rail service picking up most of the slack.”

“Selling grain to Manehattan? That supposed to be the pony form of ‘selling coal to Newcastle?’”

“If it means ‘normally-crippling lack of business sense,’” said Construct, “then yes, it is.”

So yes, then. Fortuitous indeed. “Huh,” I said. Then, in a quieter timbre, “about time some fuckin’ good fortune made its way here.”

The carriages soon reached the settlement, forming an orderly line that waltzed up right to the communal dining hall, ready to be unloaded into the waiting storage. Construct gave me a speedy farewell, promising a prompt written report on the whole sordid affair, and shot off to somewhere where she would presumably be more needed at that moment. Shuffle Top, likewise, took off on her own duties, leaving me alone once again with Lyra.

I could only stare at the congregation of – for lack of a better phrase – wooden lorries parked outside the eatery barn. Each was practically half the size of an entire house, and there were so bloody many of them. How much food, exactly, was there supposed to be in there? Judging by volume alone, we might have been fine until even next year entirely!

“Wow,” Lyra said, reminding me of her presence – still next to me, natch. Funny, how quickly one can get inured to things. “Wonder how quickly we’re going to consume all of that.”

…

“Too quickly,” I soon agreed.

Because it was going to be too quick, wasn’t it? Even with the most extreme kind of rationing measures I could bring myself to implement, there were still hundreds and hundreds of ponies calling this place home – and, no doubt, more were making their way here even now. Even with the increasingly-little we were getting from foraging efforts, that surplus was going to dry out long before we could replenish it ourselves.

I sighed, suddenly overcome with fatigue, physical and mental. “Better than nothing,” was the best praise I could dare to offer at the situation. “It won’t last. We’re still in for a shit autumn… but maybe now we can actually stand a chance of making it through it.”

Ya know what? I told myself. I think this calls for a little ‘special occasion.’ Why not treat the populace? Throw a feast, good for one evening only! That’ll help with morale and hunger, while we can still afford to!

I jerked my head towards where Construct had flown off to, for Lyra’s sake, even though I wasn’t sure she was paying attention to it as I did so. “Come on,” I told her. “We’re not out of the woods yet – heh, see what I did there? – but we’ve gotten a hell of a lot closer to it.”

16. Growing Pains VI – Home Stretch

July 26th, 998.

“Mmm,” Lyra exclaimed around a mouthful of breakfast. “This is good! Thank you, Adam!”

“No need to thank me,” I said, in between destroying an omelette on my own plate. “Just figured I’d treat you with one of my favourites.” I wasn’t entirely sure where Construct had the bright idea to buy eggs, but I was still grateful for it. It’d been too long since I’d gotten some; I still missed the days when my parents kept chickens, back home, and I could get away with four eggs every morning.

This time, I’d made Lyra some French toast – granted, the country peasant version, which was essentially just fried eggy bread with some salt, but compared to what we’d had to eat just weeks ago it was practically ambrosia.

It was also terribly indulgent, I knew, but… we’d had enough come in to be able to afford some waste, and so I’d increased the rations for the whole settlement. I figured with the foraging and our surplus, we could afford to start recovering from malnutrition – so that it’ll be starting from scratch when we run out again, my inner cynic whispered in my head… which came up to about four-fifths of me – and so start expanding our great nation once again.

Our plates were emptied rapidly. Soon, Lyra had finished the washing up while I was preoccupied with staring off into space – an activity that was rudely interrupted when the two kiddos came tumbling in.

“Mommy! Daddy!” The two hellions separated, Wish going for me and Bowmound clamping around Lyra.

“Good morning, Wish,” I muttered, reaching down to pat her on the head – and attempt to pry her off of me before she cut off my circulation without success. I suspected Lyra was having similar issues with her own foal, judging by the grunt of discomfort that had come out of her. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes,” said Wish, nodding eagerly. She looked up at me with pleading red eyes. “What are you doing today, Daddy?”

“Nothing’s on the agenda today, as far as I recall,” I said. “Why?”

“Can we go explore the woods today, please?” I blinked. “Please please please!”

Uh…

I turned to Lyra, who was fending off similar requests from the colt, until she spotted me staring at her, to which she gave me a little smile and nodded her head at me. Bowmound took the hint and ran over to me to grip my other leg.

“Can we? Can we?” the colt joined in with the pleading. The tugging at my pants was getting quite bothersome.

“I don’t see why not,” I told them. “As long as you don’t get lost.”

“No!” whined the twosome, in unison. Wish continued on. “We wanna go with you! And Mommy!”

I blinked again, this time a little harder, suppressing a sigh. I was still not a big fan of the idea of being a parent that Lyra pushed on me. Probably a small discussion was in order… except, as I thought more and more about it, I realised that I didn’t really have many arguments against it. Not ones that made me out as a rational human being, at any rate.

“Alright, kiddos,” I relented. “After you eat your breakfast, we can go for a walk together. How’s that sound?”

“Awesome!” shouted Bowmound, leaping up and down while still grabbing on to my leg. “Thanks, Daddy, you’re the best!”

Yeah. Sure. Fortunately, Lyra had already whipped something up beforehand for the two, before I’d even gotten out of bed – huh, why didn’t she make something for herself before I did? – the foals already receiving the two levitating plates. I shot Lyra a glance and tilted my head out to my front door. Fortunately, she took the hint.

“Behave, kids,” she told them. “Wash up after yourselves.” She trotted out ahead of me, and outdoors. I gently shut the door behind me.

“What is it, Adam?”

I gave her a flat stare. “You know damn well what this is about, Lyra. What are you playing at?”

“Me?” asked Lyra, putting a hoof on her chest as if wounded. “What are you talking about? I’m not ‘playing at’ anything.”

“Excuse me if I remain unconvinced,” I said. “I just can’t help but smell some bullshit. Now that we’re doing more-or-less alright, all of a sudden the foals are all smiles and affection-”

“They’re foals,” she replied, taking a step forwards, growing heated. “They’re always like that. What’s the matter with you?”

“What’s the matter with me?” I was incredulous. “Maybe it’s the fact that you’re pushing me into something I don’t want to do against my will, and something which I am nowhere near qualified or suitable for! I didn’t want to say this in front of the foals, but I am not-”

Lyra cut me off once again. “Then I will.”

I paused, for a short time. All at once, the tattered remains of my good mood went flushing down the shitter. “…Don’t push me, Lyra,” I spat. “I will throw you back into Canterlot myself.”

The sight of her stiffening like a board brought me a twisted sense of satisfaction. I turned away and began to pace back and forth, trying to clear my head.

Eurgh. I never was a fan of things being forced onto me, particularly when it involved responsibility. Sure, the Free State was certainly a commitment and a half, but… I could table that as professional business, to be considered only when I clocked in, wearing my best formal and with a briefcase in my hand… so to speak. Some of the decisions in that regard might have made my life a little more unpleasant, but hey; that’s politics for you.

Foals, though… that was a little close for comfort. Raising children wasn’t something I could do in shifts, for fuck’s sake – not to mention education, manners, safety, there really was an awful lot of things to consider, and it was a certainty that I’d fuck it up in one way or another, one day – and those consequences were going to be much more personal than anything the Free State could have served me. Even with Lyra helping me out, which she was quite happy to do regardless, and even with the foals living with me already… and even with them having nothing else…

I squeezed my eyes shut. My resistance, previously so stalwart and impenetrable, began to crumble, as I began considering the idea a little more seriously. Really, what was the difference between seven hundred residents and two children? Hell, they were already there, under my protection… all it would really mean was taking a bit more of a hands-on approach with those two. Even – especially with Lyra helping me out…

“Adam,” said Lyra from behind me, making me jump. I’d apparently stopped pacing, and was now staring down at the ground, lost in thought. Lyra walked up to face me head-on, head held high and a determined frown creasing her brow. “They already saw you in that role, all by themselves. I didn’t even suggest it. Just like they started seeing me as a mother figure. Would it really be such a big a change to your life? What would one more be?”

I shook my head. “…They see you as their mother?”

“…Yes?” Then, she shook her head also. “Don’t change the subject. You-”

“See,” I began, in a faintly mocking tone. “What you’re trying to do now is push me into it. I thought you said you weren’t playing at anything. C’mon, keep up.”

“Would you rather not care about them?”

Immediately, all sound ceased. The wind stopped blowing, the trees stopped rustling. Even the breaths I could hear coming out of both of us stopped, like time itself had given up and gone home. Lyra stood still, practically petrified, under my scalding glare.

I stood there like that for a long, long time. Neither of us dared anything further. Personally, it wasn’t for lack of trying; I was about five syllables away from going off like a supernova. Fortunately, I was always good at repressing shit. The trembling in my hands slowly ebbed off into nothing, and I turned my organic vise back into a jaw, checking with my tongue just in case I’d accidentally chipped any teeth with the force.

The parallel, I finally reflected once my brain was flash-cooled again, was not lost on me. Fuck the logistics of it, fuck my own opinion on my parental abilities, fuck it all to hell. The question I still hadn’t asked myself, the one I refused to ask myself for fear of what the answer was going to turn out to be…

What sort of person would I be, if I said yes? If I did take those two orphan kids under my wing? Gave them a home and a family?

Of course, I already knew the answer: a good one.

A better one.

“…two little kids showing up at my door, asking for a bed under a roof and a full stomach,” I muttered, deflating. “God damn it, Lyra. You are just too good at reminding me what a good person I am.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you remembered yourself,” she said, smirking.

I laughed. “Well, I guess you’ve got me there. Fine, I’ll… I guess I can work on it.”

And not a moment too soon was it declared so, as my front door was practically broken down by the two hyper-active foals, immediately swarming around us like hornets. Just as before, Wish made a beeline for me, and Bowmound jumped onto Lyra’s back, which quickly sent me into a giggle fit.

“Are we gonna go now?” chorused the two foals, just slightly out of sync. Lyra craned her head back this way and that, trying to lay eyes on her new passenger.

“I don’t know,” said Lyra, with mock-thoughtfulness. “Have you done everything I asked you to?”

“Uh-huh!” exclaimed Bowmound. “We ate breakfast and washed the plates and made our beds and Wish knocked over a chair and I had to pick it up again!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“Alright, alright,” I said, reaching down to pat Wish on the head again – then, seeing her reach up with both forelegs, pick her up and cradle her in my arms like a cat. “Since you’ve been good kids.” I threw Lyra a glance, suppressed another giggle at seeing the colt on her back pull a heroic pose, and shared a quiet smile with her. “Shall we?”

August 17th, 998.

“Good morning to you all,” I said, to the nine ponies assembled before me in front of the saw mill. “Welcome to the Free State. I assume Ambassador Blueblood has already filled you in on the general details here? Good.” Blueblood levitated his notes on the crowd over to me, which I quickly read off.

“Okay…” Three each of the tribes were before me, six stallions and three mares. They weren’t related, at least according to Blueblood. Their talents weren’t anything to write home about, except the one with a quill and a scroll for a cutie mark, which I immediately made note of to headhunt later.

One more glaring addition to Blueblood’s mini-census stood out to me like a beacon. The last name on the list was underlined, with a note: ‘ask to stay.’

I looked up at the pony in question. He was a typical pegasus stallion, with an almost neon-blue colour, and had a disinterested look about him. I imagined if he were human, he’d have been slouching. I couldn’t get a good look at his mark, but at the angle I had, I could at least see that it mustn’t have been very large. Perhaps he didn’t even have one – there were a few cases like that here.

I lost myself in the routine of orienting the arrivals. The prospect of editing my paper records filled me with glee, since it gave me about twenty minutes or so of feeling like I was actually doing something productive. Nothing particularly stood out to me as suspect, unless I counted Blueblood giving that stallion the stink-eye while pretending he was doing it to all of them – which I of course did.

Once my spiel had run its course, I nodded to the group. “Thank you for your time, ponies. If you have any more questions, please don’t hesitate to ask either me or the Ambassador, we’d be happy to help you. You… mmm, actually, er… Boosted Stack, was it? Could I have a few moments more of your time? The rest of you are free to go. Don’t forget to check in with Construct!”

The eight soon dispersed, leaving Blueblood and I with the mystery guest. Stack continued to look like he didn’t have a care in the world, this time making alarm bells ring in my head for real. I’d ignored it the first time, and, while it may not have ended up disastrous quite yet, I was not in the mood for taking chances. I shot a glance at the Ambassador, who nodded at me – and fired up his horn.

At once, Stack realised something was amiss, and immediately spread his wings wide, preparing to take off. Blueblood was faster, however, and with the wings splayed out like that there was no way he was going to miss. A bolt of light blue magic zipped out from Blueblood’s horn and hit Stack squarely in the middle of his left wing, freezing it in place.

The (otherwise) immutable laws of physics did the rest of the work for Blueblood, as Stack attempted to lift off with only one wing – succeeding only in pushing himself over to his side, falling directly onto his still-outstretched left wing. He let out a cry of pain as the limb folded in a manner that was obviously not natural – I winced, but it didn’t appear that anything had broken; wings must be sturdier than I had thought. Blueblood moved over at once to secure the poor sod more permanently.

I had stepped backwards as soon as the action started, and only now felt safe enough to approach once more, throwing the two an odd look. “Ambassador? Uh, Boosted Stack? What… what?”

Blueblood put a hoof on the pony’s back, working his magic into glowing ropes to restrain him. “I recognised this pony from the posters. The name was a dead give-away. This is a wanted stallion.”

“Horse manure!” shouted the restrained pony, writhing ineffectually under the Ambassador. “I didn’t do it! It was a set up! That mudpony had it in for me!”

I frowned. Well… this is certainly a first. Blueblood had been with me every time to welcome any new arrivals. He had to, after all, since it was his job. This might well have been the first time an actual dirty crim had tried to sneak their way into my Free State. As a matter of fact, this might well have been the first time I’d ever even seen a dirty crim in my entire time here. That he also seemed to be a flaming racist – that is to say, tribalist – was just icing on the cake.

Blueblood seemed to misinterpret my expression, turning to me with alarm. “First Minister! You cannot seriously be considering allowing this scum to roam freely in your state!”

“Huh?” His words caught me by surprise. It had never been my intention to allow the Free State to degenerate into a hive of scum and villainy – or, rather, criminality, since ‘villainy’ meant something decidedly more severe on Equus. To consider letting this Boosted Stack in…

“Hmm,” I hummed, pretending to consider the idea. “I’m not sure… right now, all I’m seeing is you beating up on an innocent pony, who you merely claim to be a wanted man. Stallion… whatever.”

“First Minister!” exclaimed Blueblood, appalled. I ignored him, and knelt down to Stack, looking him in the eyes.

“All the same, though,” I told him, “I can’t very well discard his words, or his actions – assuming that Blueblood is a rational being, which I have little reason to doubt. So… since you are now in the territory of the Free State, I can give you… let’s say three options.” Blueblood had taken a step back, though his profound disgust had since melted away at my words, now looking on in fascination. Stack, himself, was now wary – narrowing his eyes in a way that was at odds with his hog-tied position on the dirt. As for myself…

I saw this as quite an opportunity, to be honest. To once again display some sovereignty over my land, administering my own justice – though at the risk of doing so to technically-Equestrian citizens, which might well be a little outside my jurisdiction. To develop my own justice system a little bit, if only through informal precedent. Mostly, though, I just wanted to strike the fear of God into somepony who most assuredly deserved it. (And also to help send a message to anyone who might have thought similarly to him – crime does not pay, and it will not do so here.)

“What is it?” he asked, faintly impatient – an impressive feat, considering his position.

“Option one,” I listed off with a hand. “Since you believe yourself to be innocent, I can send you back to Equestria, where that will be determined in a court of law.” Stack had widened his eyes at this, and started shaking his head frantically – so much for being innocent, if he was afraid of the courts… unless they are of the kangaroo variety, I realised with a start – though I quickly shook it off, since that was not terribly likely.

“Option two,” I continued. “Blueblood and I may… allow you to be trialled here, in the Free State, under our laws, though with an Equestrian presence for the sake of bipartisanship. If you are found innocent, you shall be permitted to stay here – though, if not, you shall be punished… rather more severely than I imagine Equestria would have done.

“Or, option three…” I finished. “You may declare your guilt here and now, and instead of shipping you off to Equestria, or setting up a court here, I allow you to work your crimes off in service to the Free State, wherever you may be required to do so.”

I saw Blueblood inhale as I finished, ready to object to something or other, though in truth my mind was already made up on this matter. “Unfortunately for you,” I told the captured pony, “you are still an Equestrian citizen, so I can’t actually make this decision for them – not to mention I still owe Blueblood a favour. Sorry, pal.”

I stood up, ignoring Boosted’s wailing and cursing, stepping over to Blueblood, who evidently had been taken by surprise by the conclusion. “Hell, I haven’t a clue what he’s done, anyway,” I joked. “Probably just a pantry raid on Celestia’s kitchens. That’s all up to you to resolve.”

“You… you…” Blueblood worked his vocal chords for a while, attempting to form coherent sentences. “What… why?” he eventually settled on.

I gave an indifferent shrug. “I’m not foolish enough to try to pass judgment on Equestrian citizens. My people, my rules – your people, your rules. I’d never have gone through with any of the last two. I, er… I also found it quite amusing,” I confessed.

Blueblood blinked, then, seemingly writing off my nonsense, shook his head, and cheered up somewhat. “…If you say so, First Minister. I shan’t keep you any longer – I need to deal with this situation.” He looked down at the tied-up pony in the same way one would look at a ruptured garbage bag on one’s carpet. “Be seeing you.”

“See ya,” I waved, turning on my heel and walking away, mind already elsewhere.

So. That was new. We’ve got Johnny Foreigner comin’ over ‘ere…

September 14th, 998.

Construct and I were staring at the single icebox left in the dining hall that was full. It was all that remained of our once-considerable food supplies.

“Guess it was too much to hope for anyway,” I said.

I’d gotten overconfident. The sight of those enormous carts, loaded chock full of food, had been deceptive. I had thought that I could have gotten away with increasing rations across the board, easing up a little bit on our hardship. We’d had so much food come in, after all… I’d even been worried that it would have started going bad before we’d have had the chance to eat it!

My maths had been off. The foul-up had been a subtle one, admittedly, creeping up on me slowly and steadily, but it really was one I should have been capable of spotting. Even assuming a constant population, we’d have had a week, a week and a half of no food – easily weathered, with the slightly-less-than-adequate rations I’d given. But, of course, the population was not constant – this place was now home to over a thousand souls. It was elementary – just straight-up more mouths to feed than I had planned for.

By the time I’d realised my mistake, the damage had already been done. Now, only a few days’ worth remained, and harvest was still about a month away – at best. The forest had long since been cleaned out, in our immediate vicinity. Getting anything more out of it in organised parties, in any appreciable amounts, would be a multi-day-long affair, a pretty self-defeating proposition.

“Your orders, First Minister?” prompted Construct.

And wasn’t that a question and a half. How could we make days turn into a month? Hibernation? Time travel? Mmmmm-agic!

I sighed.

No. It was going to be the usual method of this place, wasn’t it – more fucking personal sacrifices. Because of course, things could only ever get worse in the Free State. I ought to have put that on T-shirts.

“Okay,” I decided. “Here’s what we’ll do. Maybe that wasn’t such a waste of food after all. We’ll have to cut them off.”

“Nothing?” asked Construct, alarmed.

“Yes,” I said. “The only beings that will get fed from this are going to be the foals. No-one else. Hopefully the earlier waste would have at least put the majority of the ponies out of starvation. They… should be able to handle a month.” I grimaced, and made a mental note to wash my mouth out with soap later. Gambling with lives was dirty business indeed.

“Foals?” she asked next, in a tone whose implications I disliked greatly.

“Yes, the foals,” I said, exaggerating my enunciation. “I’m not going to stunt the development of little children, Construct. They’ll still get the usual. Hmm,” I hummed, as another idea hit me. “Come to think of it… yes, actually.”

“First Minister?”

“Your workers are still fine, right?”

“Yes, First Minister.”

“Good,” I said. “They’ll be the only workers in the Free State until further notice. Effective immediately. Get my residents in their homes and into bed. They’ll need to conserve as much energy as possible.” Ponies didn’t hibernate… but I hoped they were fast learners.

“As you wish, First Minister.”

“Good.” I spun on my heel and walked off, leaving Construct with the icebox, trying my best to not think about the next month of my life…

The prospect was immediately brained on the starting line, as opening the doors of the dining hall revealed the figures of Steady Hooves and his wife. The mare recoiled at my sight, though Hooves himself restrained himself to only a widening of the eyes. “O-oh!” exclaimed Green.

“Mister Inns!” greeted Hooves, extending a hoof. “How are ya? Is there anythin’ Ah…” Evidently, I was wearing my emotional state on my sleeve, as Hooves’ foreleg slowly drifted back down to the ground, the two ponies’ expressions turning increasingly concerned. “Minister? Somethin’ the matter?”

I sighed, despairing at the conversation it was increasingly evident was going to happen now. If nothing else, it would be a good way to gauge what the reaction would be to my course of action. All I had to do was figure out how to convey it – without being kicked in the head by an angry horse.

“...Hello, Hooves, Green. I… I apologise, I have a lot on my mind at the moment.” Honesty is the best policy, intoned my mind, as the two ponies blinked their eyes up at me, perhaps wondering why I wasn’t getting out of their way.

I bowed my head, cutting off whatever question was on their lips. My gesture seemed to cow them into simply waiting for whatever revelation they thought I was about to give them. And it’s gonna be a doozy, huh… fucking hell.

I sighed. “Alright, Hooves, Deft, I’ll… give it to you straight. We’re out of food. As of right now, no-one gets any more food from our stocks, except the foals. I fucked up. I admit it. Sorry,” I added, lowly, almost exhaling the word, feeling shame creeping up my neck.

I’ll admit, I was expecting a much stronger response from Hooves and Deft than I actually got. No-one likes to be told they have to starve, after all, and I did promise them personally that they would never have to deal with anything like this ever again. And yet…

“...Ah see,” Hooves finally said, looking down at the floor with an inscrutable expression that was shared by his wife. “Why?”

And wasn’t that the million-pound question, huh? Why did I decide to make such a short-sighted decision? Increasing rations seemed like a fine idea at the time, and it did come with certain benefits that my residents had now, chief among them not being so hungry any more – except, well, that all went out the window now, didn’t it? A few months of slightly-less than enough for everyone would absolutely be preferable to a few months of enough, followed by a month of nothing at all. Shouldn’t I have foreseen more ponies coming to me that needed to be fed, too?

“…I fucked up,” I repeated. “I thought we would have had enough for everyone for long enough that we could afford easing up. I was wrong. I…” The words died in my throat. I couldn’t even bring myself to apologise.

Apparently, though, Hooves felt like taking pity on me. “Ah… Ah see. Well, Ah guess there ain’t no point in us goin’ in there, now, is there?” He chuckled weakly, stepping backwards slowly. “Yer still gonna feed our foals?”

“Yes,” I confirmed, voice firming up ever-so-slightly. “We have enough for that much, at least. It’ll last the… twenty-seven foals until harvest. I can guarantee that much, if nothing else.”

“Good.” Hooves nodded firmly. “Ah can… Ah can live with that.”

Before I could even comprehend it, Hooves and Deft were gone, back to their own house. I was left standing alone in front of the doors to the dining hall, staring off into space like a pillock.

You can live with that, huh… you say that now, but after a month without food…? His lukewarm response shocked me to my core. The prospect of having a thousand people potentially starve to death under my watch was almost too much to understand, much less accept. I had it considerably easier than most of them, in fact, given that I could eat meat. Some effort in the forest would easily get me a couple squirrels, maybe a hare, where the ponies had already scoured it clean of their own sustenance.

How, then, could someone like Hooves, who was facing a very real chance of death, act so casually about it? He knew damn well that if the worst came to pass, I would be left alone in the Free State, with all of the foals -

I stopped. That was one train of thought I couldn’t let leave the station. I shook my head forcefully and blinked, trying not to think about it as I finally started moving again – this time to the sawmill where I could make the announcement public.

Finally… October 6th, 998.

It began as a pretty usual day in the Free State – that is to say, worse than the one before.

I woke up in my bed. Lyra, for once, was nowhere to be found, so this time I was free to kick off the sheets without grace. Getting up and out of the bed itself proved to be more of a challenge, but with the assistance of last night’s wild hare I soon found myself on my feet and dressed.

As it turned out, my room-mate had dragged herself into the kitchen, and was in the process of shakily handling two servings of breakfast in her sputtery aura. I watched them float over to the table with a streak of envy that I crushed the second I recognised it. The plates were chock-full of food, some of the last of its kind in the Free State.

Lyra finally turned and spotted me in the doorway, stepping up to me with a pained smile and a near-involuntary bow of the head. “Good morning, Adam,” she got out, gently touching her cheek to my stomach.

“Mornin’,” I said. “You know I could have done that just fine, right?”

“Yes,” she murmured, clearly already dead on her hooves. “Still my responsibility. Gotta…” That was all the energy she had for the day, it seemed.

“Come on, Ly,” I said, herding her back to my bedroom. “Save your energy. I’ll take care of ‘em.” I gently placed her down onto the bed, where Lyra near-instantly passed out. I shook my head sadly, and went back to get myself some water.

I considered myself very fortunate that I was still able to scrape by, nutrition-wise. I had little skill in hunting, not without a scoped rifle at any rate, but Construct had pointed one of her workers my way when I asked about snares, and I was now at least competent in setting them up, crude as they may have been. The other ponies – what few still brought themselves to leave their dwellings, that is – didn’t seem to mind too much, even though I’d have thought it would have been a little disturbing to them, being herbivores and all.

At any rate, though it may not have sated completely, it was enough to leave me considerably better off than the vast majority of my residents.

“Daddy! Daddy!”

Two high yells preceded the arrival of the two foals living with me. Silent Wish ran in first, followed closely by Bowmound, both sparing mere moments to hug my legs before leaping into their seats and beginning to annihilate their breakfast.

I watched the two kids eat with a faint sense of genuine warmth. It was… good, to know that I could at least make sure that the foals of the Free State had little to worry about, and could go on with their days of running around having fun, trying to discover their cutie marks, pointedly ignoring their parents wasting away in their beds right in front-

Nope nope nope. I blinked my eyes as forcefully as I could, turning my head physically towards the direction of my study, trying to bring my mind back to more productive roads. Not much came to replace them. I contented myself with watching the two foals in my kitchen devour their meal.

Before too long, their plates stood empty, the kids looking over at me with unfathomably cheerful expressions as they slid them over in my direction. “Paldies,” chorused the two foals, beaming widely.

“Lū-” I replied automatically before I stopped myself, bewildered at what exactly my foals had just said to me. “…Uh, what? Where did you pick that up from?”

“We hear you say it to Lyra when you finish eating,” said Wish proudly.

I could only shake my head as I quickly picked up their plates to simply place them into the sink for later. Those darn kiddos. Do they even know what it means? The pile was already getting uncomfortably large, but… I had bigger things on my mind, despite my best efforts.

“What are you doing today, Daddy?” asked Wish, tugging at my sweatpants in her usual manner. I couldn’t resist ruffling her mane with a fond smile, looking down at her as she giggled happily under the attention.

“Not much,” I admitted easily, inviting Bowmound over with my other hand, which he accepted as eagerly as his counterpart. Soon, I was kneeling in the kitchen, lavishing the two foals with attention.

And yet, somehow, despite all this, my mind still had the audacity to wander. It had been… some time since our last big disaster (that you orchestrated, my mind reminded me ever-so-handily), and I was feeling an awful lot like I was due another dose of bullshit. The harvest was once again close – only a week or two more, thank God, and not the mid-November that it could have been – but even still, it didn’t ease the pressure in my mind.

My ponies, the people I was responsible for, were still starving, and had been for a month. The fact I hadn’t heard any bad news coming to me yet was nothing short of a miracle – but I knew damn well it couldn’t last. Not in the Free State, where things could only ever get worse.

“Daddy?” Wish’s voice broke through the smog clouding my brain; I looked back to the foals under my hands to find them looking at me with concern I had never expected to see on the face of a foal. “Are you okay?”

My hands resumed the motions I had stopped by mistake, lost in my thoughts as I was, as I replied. “Yes, kids. I’m fine. Just feeling a bit silly.” Fortunately, the weak excuse was backed up by my starting to scratch behind the foals’ ears, which served to placate them immensely. A chuckle bubbled out of my throat, seeing them melt into goofy smiles and crane their necks upward to push their heads further into my palms.

Soon, though, I had to disengage, feeling my knee start to protest under the pressure. I stood up, stretching out my limbs while suppressing a yawn, and looked out of the window to guess the time – the sun was still relatively low in the sky, and was visible from the kitchen, telling me it was still reasonably early in the morning. Without me even doing a thing, the foals ran off all by themselves, apparently having already decided on an itinerary without me – which was just fine by me. I had bigger concerns.

Before long, I too stepped foot outdoors. I breathed in, savouring the feeling, before exhaling as cathartically as I could get away with. There were only two things on my to-do list today; meet with Construct, and inspect the crops. I decided to start off with point two, in my boundless irreverence.

Naturally, though, the universe just had to screw with my plans.

Because, as it happened, just as I approached the smaller of the two fields of the Free State, the one that used to be my own little plot, I saw Construct appear from behind a corner of a house in the distance, practically galloping towards my house. When she saw me standing around near the plot, though, she hurriedly, and a little messily, changed course to instead head directly for me, quickly slowing her pace as if to pretend she wasn’t just full-on sprinting to find me.

“First Minister,” she called out as she neared, a hint of strain in her voice. “Do you have a moment?”

“Don’t I always,” I not-quite-mumbled, turning my head slightly to put her in my peripheral vision, focused as I was on the crops. “What is it?”

“Doctor Sawbones wants to see you as soon as possible,” she said, frowning at my lack of enthusiasm. “He says it is urgent.”

“Well,” I prevaricated. “Since I’ve-”

“He told me to tell you it’s a matter of the wellbeing of every citizen of the Free State.”

I turned to look at Construct, who was staring at me intently. “…I see,” I said. In hindsight, I didn’t really know what I was expecting. A month of nothing would probably cause some serious problems, after all. “Well, lead the way, then, I suppose.”

The streets of the Free State were still as quiet as ever. A single pony passed us by as we walked, who respectfully nodded at Construct – not a big surprise, considering he worked for her. Otherwise, the buildings and pathways stood precisely as empty as they were before the Summer Sun, months ago. The only thing that changed was the amount.

Construct, bless her, tried to strike up a conversation, trying to keep the gloomy mood at bay. “First Minister? Do you happen to know where Blueblood is? I can’t seem to find him anywhere.”

“Oh, he, uh… he’s in Equestria at the moment, I believe.” Truth be told, I was glad for a reprieve in the silence. It helped keep unpleasant thoughts at bay. “Has been for about three weeks now. Said something about Court business. Apparently it was quite important to him, in some way. At least I got him to deliver my letter to the Princess while he’s there.”

“Mmm,” hummed Construct in acknowledgement. “What was the letter about?”

“Personal business,” I replied, to which Construct shot me an odd look. “We’re pretty good friends, as a matter of fact. We exchange letters on occasion. Figured I might as well make Ambassador Blueblood actually do something befitting his job description. Well,” I amended, mock-thoughtfully. “A little bit. The mailmare’s stopped showing up to my house, so it might as well have been him.”

As a reply, Construct opened the door to a building and waved me in. I blinked, realising we’d already arrived at our destination. I shook my head, overcome by a wave of inexplicable apathy – I breathed in, out – in, out – and stepped inside.

Let me tell you, stepping inside a wooden hospital is certainly a disconcerting experience. Being used to modern, Earth clinics, and then grandiose, gilded Canterlot royal clinics, the sight of a sign of a red cross suspended on a wall of what was essentially an oversized log cabin was… off.

The building was laid out quite unusually, too. It was only a single, massive room, with pillars placed around strategically to hold the roof up. Simple wooden cots were packed tightly in rows, with just enough space for a pony to walk between them. I wasn’t going to be able to stand next to one, but there was plenty of space at the foot of cots. It reminded me strongly of pictures I’d seen of field hospitals in the Crimean War. Very Florence-Nightingale-esque.

Less aesthetically pleasing was the sight of what exactly was on those cots – or, rather, who.

Many, many cots were already occupied by ponies. Green, blue, red, gray, brown… and so on, and so on. Many were pegasi. Some were unicorns. I saw only three earth ponies. I supposed their natural fur would preclude the necessity of sheets to cover them – except, I noticed, for three, far at the back of the room, as if someone was trying to hide them from me. It was… almost unnaturally quiet in here, considering the number of filled cots here. Until -

“First Minister?” Construct’s voice shook me out of my observations. I looked down at her – turning around first, since she didn’t take the opportunity to walk in front of me – and saw, on her, a very frightening expression of pity on her. “I…”

She struggled with her words for a while. I continued looking around while she tried.

Soon, I noticed the presence of coloured tags on the ponies on the cots. Many were yellow. A few were green. Two, I saw, were red. I recognised their purpose pretty quickly – triage priority tags. It made sense: as far as I was aware, Sawbones was the only qualified medical personnel in the entire country. A building full of ponies, like this one, was absolutely going to overwhelm him. But… at the same time, why would triage be necessary? Assuming I was still up-to-date on what was going on, these ponies were just starving. No life-saving treatment really existed, besides simply stuffing them full of calories again – slowly, of course. Was…

The door creaked open behind me again, just as Construct was inhaling to finally say something. I turned to see my man Sawbones, slowly and laboriously opening the door with his mouth, stepping back – and…

A stretcher floated in ahead of him. A pony was on it.

With a heavy sigh, Sawbones set the stretcher down on the floor, the magic aura around it winking out pathetically. Another aura sprung up from a table, as a black tag floated over to attach itself to the ear of the pony on the stretcher.

“Sawbones,” called Construct.

“Gah!” The good doctor was taken rather vigorously by surprise, going by the air-time he got. Spinning around to face us, he put a hoof to his chest and sighed deeply. “Construct! First Minister! My apologies, you… caught me off-guard.”

“Yeah,” I said, stepping closer. “I noticed. Construct says you wanted to speak with me. So… report.”

Apparently, though, Sawbones was now the one at a loss for words. He hurriedly averted his gaze elsewhere, seemingly unwilling to explain – it appeared I would have to be the one to take the initiative. I walked to the stretcher with the pony on it – a dull green earth pony, the fourth one in the building, with a grey mane and a cutie mark of a dark brown brush of some sort. It took me a moment to recognise it – it was the tail of a beaver. I gazed distastefully at the tag on his ear.

“Lost cause, is he?” I asked. No reply came, causing me to shake my head. “Yeah,” I continued. “I’m familiar with the concept of triage. Not quite sure why you’re doing it to victims of a famine, but I get it. This poor bastard…” I moved to put my hand on the pony’s chest in a gesture of sympathy -

only to feel a deathly chill under my hand.

I struck my gaze to the pony in an instant. Now that I was actually paying attention… his chest was still. I felt for a pulse, not quite sure where to check on a pony instead of another human, and found nothing. Opening an eye with two fingers revealed a glazed, empty stare to me.

I let my hand fall back to my side.

Far from being merely beyond help. This pony was dead.

This pony was dead.

…

I could barely even feel the touch of a hoof on my side. Construct was trying to get my attention. I’m sure she was saying something to me, but I wouldn’t have cared for what she had to say even if I could have heard her. I felt numb. Dizzy. It was… unexplainable. My stupid mistakes had gotten a person killed.

The blanketed ones at the back. My feet dragged as I walked over to the back of the building. Construct stayed almost glued to my side, which I’m sure I must have picked up on somewhere at the back of my mind. The blankets loomed larger in my vision as I neared, utterly unmoving. The ponies underneath must also have been lying still. The only part of them that I could see, unhidden by the blankets, were their heads, lying peaceful in apparent sleep – were it not for the black tags attached to their ears.

My stupid mistakes had gotten four people killed. There were lives on my conscience that weren’t there before. That shouldn’t have been there. I could have prevented this.

“I’m sorry,” said Construct.

Yeah.

“Get the smaller plot pulled up,” I heard myself saying. “Get my people fed.”

“First Minister? The crops are not yet fully-grown. Are you…” A single look was enough to silence Construct’s protests. Whatever she was about to say died on arrival, as she instead chose to gulp and nod slowly. “…Yes, First Minister,” she said. “We’ll get started immediately.”

At once, she whirled around and strode off, leaving me alone with the bodies – and Sawbones.

“I’m-”

“Save it,” I said, monotone. “I’ll get the first crop to you. I’ll trust you to figure out a way to avoid any more deaths. Will you need anything in addition, to get that done?”

A considerable pause. “…No, First Minister. I have the necessary equipment. I just need the… nutrition.”

“Good.”

There was nothing else to say. Sawbones gave a nod, accompanied by a look of professional pity, and turned around to examine another one of his patients.

I couldn’t stay there any longer. I’d already gotten to everything I needed to get done today. I was out.

I needed some time alone.

You could have prevented this, Adam.

17. Growing Pains VII – Cruel Lessons and Cruel Equations

Hindsight was a terrible thing.

Only two days had passed. I had done a lot of thinking during that time. Very little of it was productive, in any way. In fact, none of it was productive. Wasn’t possible to change the past, after all. It didn’t stop me in the slightest.

What could I have done to save them? Too bloody much, was the answer. With the benefit of a few months’ distance, I had thought of so many things I could have done differently. My liquor collection was still gathering dust in a cabinet somewhere in my house – point one. That could have gone with Construct to Manehattan. That mare… Slinky, or whatever it was. Hated Equestria? At least she was alive to do it. Point two – blow off the residents, and ask for help anyway. Might have hated me for it, but again. At least they’d be alive.

Point three – avoid dealing with Equestria, and take Upper Crust’s deal. Might have fucked me sometime in the distance, yeah, but was that really so difficult to stomach compared to four dead? Point four, keep rationing the same as it was before the influx. We’d have been just fine as we were. I deliberately fucked things up, by all accounts.

Why didn’t I make the connection between more migrants and more food being eaten? What was wrong with me? To miss something so trivially obvious as that didn’t exactly infuse me with confidence in my abilities as First Minister, least of all going forward from here. Why did I keep the rationing lowered in the first place? Casting away the safety-net like that, just for the sake of… morale? Pulling my residents out of hunger?

So much for that, then. If nothing else, I could at least chalk all this up as a valuable learning experience, one paid for in blood. The exact lesson, though… well, there were a few to choose from. Think through things properly before making decisions as big as the ones I made – the ones it was my job to make? Check. Solicit second opinions for said decisions? Check. Look through the little details so you don’t get blinded by the big picture? Check. Don’t ever do this shit again, and toss it all into a flaming dumpster to be forgotten about? Check, I supposed.

I’d spent the second day ferrying supplies around for Sawbones. My first aid certification from back home was technically still valid, but I didn’t think I could apply much from it to a pony. Not to mention… I didn’t want to risk fucking something up in there and getting even more fucking ponies killed. Instead, I put things he needed where he needed them. I hoped it helped him, and his patients.

Construct had dutifully taken up the crop field work, and had gotten a few boxes of food to the clinic. I wasn’t big on the nitty-gritty of medicine – or magic, for that matter – but I still found it a little odd how Sawbones turned that into an IV solution. I hoped he knew what refeeding syndrome was. More lives on my conscience was not appealing.

By the third day, I found I wasn’t even all that down any more. Apathy had once again won the day. I’d made my decisions, then and now. All I had to do was inform Blueblood, and Construct, and anyone else who might have cared, of my intentions.

Just my bloody luck, then, that I’d given Blueblood my letter before he left.

I looked on the royal carriage with disinterest. It didn’t seem to differ too much from Blueblood’s usual; open-top, two guardsponies pulling it, white and gold with gilded highlights. The only thing of interest I could pick out was the second occupant, who was significantly larger than the first.

The carriage set down gently a few metres away. The door opened, and Blueblood leapt down first, soon followed by Celestia. The latter seemed to be rather disquieted by the lack of activity around her – it was still, after all, damn quiet in the Free State. Blueblood just stared at me. Perhaps he sensed that something was amiss.

“Greetings, First Minister,” called Celestia, nearing me with a somewhat forced kindly smile. “I am glad to visit the Free State once again.”

“Likewise, Princess,” I replied automatically. “It’s a pleasure to receive you here. I’m afraid I must apologise for the lackluster welcome, but the Free State is still in something of a crisis. As you two might well be aware.”

“I received your letter, First Minister,” confirmed Celestia, stepping yet closer to me. Blueblood kept his distance, still training his gaze on me, as if searching for something. “I would quite like to discuss its contents, somewhere in private.”

“Of course, Princess,” I said, voice tinged with defeat. “Ambassador, I… believe I would prefer to inform you of matters here separately. Would that be fine?”

“Yes, First Minister,” replied Blueblood, uncharacteristically meekly. Celestia just nodded.

“Good, good…” I hadn’t even turned around fully before Celestia’s voice stopped me in my tracks once again.

“Adam? Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

…Yes, as a matter of fact. There-

“Have you been a naughty boy, Adam?”

…

“Princess Celestia.” I didn’t bother turning around to look at her. My voice held enough chill for her to get the hint. “I realise that you are not quite up to date on the affairs of the Free State, and neither is Blueblood. I know you do not realise the implications of that phrase – innocently as you have intended it. That’s why I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that to me. Four of your little ponies are dead because of the consequences of my decisions.”

I looked back for a moment, throwing Celestia a tired glance. Her face, I saw, had become carefully neutral. Blueblood’s reaction was less restrained, though he at least had the sense to keep quiet.

I said nothing more – no-one did. After a long, silent moment, I turned back around, and made for my house. A single set of soft hoofsteps quickly joined in.

“Explain,” said Celestia, staring at me intently.

I sighed, slumping down in my seat – Celestia opted to remain standing, in the middle of the living room. Where could I even begin? Where could I pinpoint the exact reason for my failure? What was the first domino?

“…You want a detailed explanation? Fine. The first of my fuck-ups was the Summer Sun speech.” That, I saw, was not what she expected me to start with, judging by her raised brow. “I knew what I was trying to do with that speech. I knew it damn well. That’s why I did it, for fuck’s sake. Mistake number one – it was too much at once. I was prepared for… maybe an extra few dozen. Fifty, sixty, at most. Instead, I got five hundred. There was no way I could have fed that many. I bought time – rationing. Intense rationing. We expanded our crop fields as quickly as we could – forgot that normal crops don’t grow very well here, at all. Wasted a week or two’s effort. Call that one and a half.

“Figured it out in the end, I can grow here just fine, but ponies can’t – just had to give ‘em a little more personal attention. We’d still not have enough to make it to… a week or two from now, four months ago. Even with what we could forage from the surroundings – which was a lot, but also not enough. I sent Construct off to Manehattan with every penny I had, to buy as much food as I could.

“Mistake number two. After Construct came back from Manehattan, I eased up rationing. Not for a single day, either; until we’d run out of food fully. Almost, anyway. A month ago, if you’re wondering… probably closer to three weeks, actually. Still too fucking much. We still had more people – ponies, excuse me, coming in, every day. Mistake number three – didn’t make the simple fucking connection there, either. More mouths to feed, means more feeding. Means less food.

“Mistake number four, I didn’t do a fucking thing to solve any of this earlier, until it was already too fucking late for four people. There was so much I could have done for this not to have happened. Taken Crust’s deal, asked you for help, asked anyone for help,sent Construct with more to sell, stockpiled more food earlier, fuck!”

My head fell into my hands; I massaged my forehead to drive away a headache that wasn’t there. “I failed, Princess. My first test, my first real test as First Minister – a leader of a group of people that depended on me – and I failed, spectacularly.”

My voice fell away. I had run out of things to say. What else was there left to say?

I focused on breathing. In, out. In, out. After a while, I shook my head, and lifted it out of my palms, looking at Celestia instead.

“This was not your fault.”

“Bullshit,” I immediately spat, leaping to my feet to pace. Celestia had said precisely the wrong thing to me. “Not my fault. I am the only person at fault, Princess. I am literally the only being in the Free State capable of being at fault. Not my fault! I invited these people here myself, Princess. I had invited these people here specifically to prevent things like exactly this from happening to them, and I did not!”

…

I sighed. There was no point in getting angry. What’s done was done. “I didn’t, Princess. I made the call to cut everyone off, except the foals. A solution to a problem I created myself. A shitty solution. One that killed four people. And I wasn’t even aware of the consequences until two fucking days ago.”

“Was…” Celestia apparently rethought whatever question was on her mind. After a while, she tried again, with another one. “Do you know what you did wrong?”

I snorted. “’Course I do. I was here, Princess. I didn’t… plan ahead. I didn’t see the big picture. I thought one solution to a problem was enough.”

“Will you do it again?”

I frowned, looking Celestia straight in the eyes. “…Tragedy’s a fine learning experience, is it, Princess? Four are dead. That’s practically criminal negligence. How can you be so cavalier about this? Am I really the only person that cares what a sky-smashingly monumental failure I am? They used to be your ponies, Celestia! I got them killed!”

“…That’s not how I see it.”

Celestia got up, slowly, ambling over me as if I was a predator, ready to pounce. “You did not do this deliberately. You tried your best. Four ponies are dead, yes, and that is a tragedy. Does that overshadow the fact that all the remainder of your subjects are still alive?” She pushed my chin up with the tip of a wing, forcing me to look her in the eyes. “Don’t let your failures overshadow your successes. Hundreds of ponies -”

“Just over a thousand, now.”

“…Over a thousand ponies are still alive, here, because of your actions. A lesser pony might have gotten dozens, hundreds… everypony might have starved. Yes, I will admit that it is a tragedy that four have perished, and yes, it would have been preferable if everypony had survived this crisis. That does not diminish the fact that you led a thousand ponies through a famine.”

“Poorly,” I replied, flatly. “Nice speech, Celestia, and nice platitudes, but it is still only my own damn fault that I even had to deal with this whole shitshow in the first place. Does it count if you pull four people out of a building that you, yourself, set on fire? I could have prevented this. I should have.”

“Then you will, next time.”

I exhaled, averting my gaze to the floor. “Yeah. About that.”

“No.” Celestia pre-empted me, now frowning herself. “Absolutely not. I will not allow you to give up at the first difficulty. Your people still need you. They will need you after this is resolved.”

“They can figure it out between themselves, then,” I said. “I no longer have any interest in making decisions that get people killed. I’m not qualified. Blueblood can have his fucking premiership. I’m done.”

Then, my chin abruptly jerked forward. Celestia had pulled me in closer – though I doubted the red on her face was because of her being flustered. “You would do so?” she asked, lowly – dangerously. “Simply abandon your subjects, just because of one mistake? Do the lives of your people mean so little to you? What would those four ponies say to you if they had heard you say that?”

“Nothing,” I spat, grabbing a hold of her wing and throwing it away from my face. “Because they’re dead. And if they weren’t, they’d spit in my face for what I’ve done.”

I spun around on my heel and stormed off, only getting to the kitchen before running out of distance to put between us. I couldn’t believe it. I was the only person blaming myself. Not even Celestia blamed me. Even though…

I looked out of the window. It was a surprisingly sunny day out, for October. Blue skies, not a cloud in sight. Must have been a common sight in Equestria, but here it just became incongruous.

I wished I’d fought harder right at the start of all this. I should have given the founding documents back to her. Told her to shove off, and leave my reading in peace. I wished I’d called for help… hell, I wished I’d called for help at all, much less right when I got five hundred people on my doorstep. I wished I’d been smarter. Had more experience. Had connected the fucking dots I’d needed to, before it was too late.

I wished I could have saved those four ponies.

…

“…Then again,” I mused to myself. “If wishes were fishes… I’d have joined the merchant navy.”

“That’s not an expression I’ve heard before,” said Celestia, behind me, not quite making me jump out of my skin – though it was a close thing. One I should have expected, really, considering I’d only moved about fifteen metres away from her.

“You wouldn’t have,” I said, trying to calm myself down a little. “I just thought it up. Pointless to try to wish mistakes away. I thought I could have gotten away without having to take any regrets to my grave.” I chuckled, once – a low, bitter sound. “Guess that’s out the window, now.”

I shook my head, turning around to face my conversational partner – who was now looking at me piteously. “I’m sorry,” she told me, lowly. “This was not your fault. It was mine. I made the decision to give you so much. If I had not done so, this would not have happened. I shouldn’t have done this to you. I shouldn’t have assumed. I’ve taken things too far.”

“Load of bollocks,” I immediately repudiated, again. “Don’t push it on yourself. You might have handed me the gun, but I was the one who pulled the damn trigger. I know damn well what I’ve done.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “You shouldn’t have gone through this. If you… if you desire it, I can have this all forgotten about, and dismantled. You could return to your old life. I won’t hold it against you. Nopony would.”

“Mmm.” I hummed absent-mindedly. “Yeah. I guess I could.”

As a matter of fact, I couldn’t. The Adam Inns of five months ago was a different person to who I was now. Fundamentally so. Lives on one’s conscience was not something that could be washed off with hand sanitiser, so to speak. That was knowledge I was going to have to live with for the rest of my life.

As distasteful as the idea may have seemed to me, my people were still depending on me. Despite the fact I’d nearly gotten a huge chunk of them killed, and actually did get four of them killed. To my shame, I found that there were few people who could have done a better job, and who would have been accepted by the residents. The thestrals, maybe – and that might well have been it. Who, now that I thought about it, might well have also had some… minor concerns with me handing the reins over to an Equestrian. Not to mention what they would have done with my residents.

And, finally… “But if I gave up now,” I finally finished, “those four ponies would have died for nothing. I can’t do that. I won’t.”

I felt a wing wrap around me as I turned around to face out of the window once again. That was the long and short of it, I supposed – a goddamn sunk cost fallacy, albeit one with extra bells and whistles on. We’d come so far already; what was one (enormous) mistake in four, five months when there was so much of the future to get things right in?

I sighed.

First Ministership was not what I thought it would be.

“Have you at least learned from your mistakes?” asked Celestia, softly, as if afraid to disturb me.

“Yeah,” I exhaled. “A couple of things. Think things through properly. Ask other people before you commit to a decision like that. Consider their consequences before they arrive. Plan ahead of these consequences. Expect consequences other than the obvious ones.” I shook my head. “Can’t believe I paid so much for such trite lessons. Christ…”

“So long as you become a better person from them,” said Celestia. “There is no shame in that.”

“There’s shame in a few other things, though.”

That, apparently, was the end of that.

In truth, though, the most valuable lesson I’d learned was not one of the ones I’d told Celestia. I had come at the problem of First Ministership the wrong way, much more fundamentally than simply being an idiot. Nation management was not a short-term issue, not discrete, and not simple. I had to rethink how I approached it.

The fundamental issue, the one that my actions could all be boiled down to, was that I had assumed that once a solution was applied to a problem, that was the end of it. Five hundred ponies show up? Get them housed and fed. Not enough food? Ration what we have for as long as we can, until we get more. We’ve got more food? That’s enough rationing, forget about it.

Forget about it. Christ on a bike. You’re a fucking moron, Inns.

Not short-term. I couldn’t afford to dismiss problems until I knew, definitively, with actual, real proof in-hand, that they were actually solved. Once we’d gotten those huge lorries of food in, I had assumed that would be that – and look where that got me. Food insecurity was not something to stick on a to-do list – and, as a matter of fact, I doubted I could even consider it ‘solved’ after our harvest. There were, after all, still going to be more ponies – or whoever – coming in looking for greener pastures – Heh. Ponies looking for greener pastures. Nice. – and our two crop fields were still only capable of feeding about a thousand and a half, dangerously close to our current population. Food production was now going to be a constant top priority.

Not discrete. Once those lorries showed up, I had promptly forgotten about the issue entirely – until new evidence all but slapped me in the fucking face. Issues like that needed to be treated as continuous – that is, I couldn’t just slap a band-aid on until it fell off. I needed to check things regularly, see if the solutions I’d come up with were actually effective. Fire-and-forget management… well. The fruits of such a strategy now weighed on my soul, didn’t they?

Not simple. A equals B. Simple enough, right? No food, therefore get more food – a neat fantasy. Even something as simple as getting more arrivals to the Free State, continuously, had somehow evaded my calculations. The simplest, bare-minimum consideration had thrown me off – since I’d assumed the problem had already been solved with Construct’s journey to Manehattan. I had failed to consider additional related variables. Not to mention there were many ways to go about solving just one problem. No food – forage, ask for more, grow more, even take more if absolutely necessary. So long, of course, as I didn’t replace one problem with another – or many others.

I sighed.

“Christ. I actually feel kind of sorry for you,” I told Celestia. “You’ve had to deal with shit like this for… what, three thousand years? Ahrinyet. I’ve been at it for less than half a year, with a nation orders of magnitude smaller than yours, and already I’ve fucked things up spectacularly.”

“The calculus of leadership is a cruel equation,” said Celestia. “Often, we can only do the least worst that we can.”

“Mmm.” I nodded. “No wonder. I was always more of a fan of algebra, myself.”

Finally, that seemed to break the doom and gloom, making Celestia break out into light chuckles. “Oh, Adam,” she finally got out. “You are a very strange human.”

“Heh,” I chuckled myself. “I suppose I’ll take that as a compliment.”

If wishes were fishes… I might not be able to bring back the dead… but at least I could try to prevent any more from joining their ranks, in the future. It was the least I could do, while I still drew breath. Just like I promised them, the first day.

...we’d all be swimming in riches.

The conversation with Blueblood was considerably more shouty.

“What in all the starless hells were you doing?!” he thundered. “Were you too busy brushing your bucking mane for three weeks to notice your ponies starving in their streets and homes? Could you not even for a moment bring yourself to even step foot outdoors during all that time to take even a cursory inspection of your realm? What are those glasses of yours even for?”

At least there’s one person in the Free State who recognises my fuckup besides me.

“This is not how a nation is run, First Minister! A leader needs to, on occasion, pull his head out of his rear and actually do something! I was under the assumption, when I departed on Equestrian business, that you were in the process of attempting to resolve the crisis you created! And now I get told, offhand, that four ponies – who used to be Equestrian subjects, need I remind you – are now dead?”

Ah, Ambassador Blueblood – defender of the little people.

Blueblood, having spent most of his anger, dropped down to mere seething. “I cannot believe I was taken in by your act. How could I have allowed myself to believe that a simple farmer would have the skill to tend to a nation’s subjects?”

“You think I believed that?” I broke in, cutting Blueblood’s tirade short. “With all due respect, Ambassador Blueblood, don’t be so fucking stupid. If you recall from our… first meeting in the Free State, I made it very clear that I wanted nothing to do with this whole sordid business. I told Celestia my interest in statecraft was purely intellectual. And look where we are now. Both of you helped push me into this. If you hadn’t, perhaps I might not have been consumed by the desire to do some fucking good from it – maybe the Summer Sun speech that led directly to this disaster might not have fucking taken place.”

“And why did you not do anything more after that had happened?” accused Blueblood. “Where was the decisive action you showed on those first two weeks? You showed capacity, First Minister, to think! What happened? Why did you suddenly stop trying to fix your subjects’ problems?”

“You think I didn’t fucking try?” I retorted, now growing a little heated myself. “I must have forgotten the bit where I didn’t send Construct off on what was effectively a personal errand that was not part of her job description to try to keep my people going until harvest! The bit where I instilled draconian rationing measures to try to keep what little food we had going for as long as we possibly could!”

“Then why are four ponies dead, Inns?”

“Because I fucked up!”

The sudden volume of my voice made Blueballs flinch back, his frown softening slightly. It was too late for him to apologise, though; my dam had burst yet again. “Yes, fine, I admit it! Again! I fucked up, okay? I didn’t think! Do you know how much leadership experience I have? Five months’ worth! You think that’d have been enough for me to just suddenly develop sense? Disaster management? Horizontal thinking? I used to be a guy living in the middle of nowhere reading fucking books, before Celestia threw a crown at my face and you walked in here calling me a dirty fucking pig! How can you possibly expect me to not fuck up leading a thousand fucking people through a fucking famine? Forgive me, Ambassador, for expecting problems to go away once I come up and apply solutions to them!”

…

“…Christ Almighty,” I muttered, sinking down to a sitting position on the floor. “Three weeks without food. What the hell was I thinking?”

Apparently, we had both spent our anger now. Blueblood approached slowly, his frown now inquisitive instead of incensed. “Did you not think to check? On what was happening? Even if you had committed to a plan of action?”

“No,” I said tiredly. “I didn’t. I’d assumed that if anything more came up, it would have come up the same way every other problem came up to me before – just shoving itself into my face. And, well… it did. Just far too late for me to do anything other than minimise the fallout.”

“Did nopony inform you of what was happening in your Free State, Inns?”

“Whose job is it to babysit me, Ambassador?” My gaze turned piercing. “My sincere apologies for not having the time to hire a goddamn secretary to wipe my arse for me!”

“What about Construct?”

“What about her? If you’ve forgotten during your absence, Construct is a project manager of a glorified real estate development plan. She hasn’t got ties to this place in the same way you or I do – when she’s done with her job, she’ll fuck off. She is not my fucking maid. I’m sure you could have filled me in on what was going on in my Free State – if you were actually fucking here when shit went fan-wards. Maybe if someone came up to me and socked me in the face then, those four people might still be alive now.”

Blueblood didn’t have an answer to that. Not even a follow-up question. I hoped he got my point. That, or maybe he felt complicit in those deaths now. For some reason.

I sighed. “Well. Like I told Celestia – expensive fucking lessons, huh. At least I grew some sense right at the bloody end. That smaller field should be enough to stop more from dying, while we wait on the big one to finish this shit off.”

“Better late than never,” agreed Blueblood, in a tone that tried its best to not come off as bitter despite the implications of the words themselves. “I… I apologise for my vitriol. It was not my intent-”

“Don’t bother,” I said, picking myself up from the floor. “I deserved it. I expect to hear it again, even, the next time I fuck up.” I chuckled faintly. “That’s an order, Ambassador.”

“…I think I can do that,” said Blueblood, smiling.

I had given myself one day to wallow.

As it turned out, digging a grave was rather much work. True, I was never one for manual labour (of this sort, anyway), and true, I was still somewhat weakened from not quite eating enough, but I was still sweating and panting much more than I was expecting to. Four graves might well have put me in a fifth one. Still, as the hours passed, the earth moved, the pits grew… my mind wandered.

Before I had arrived in Equestria, I was… nobody. A student. An amateur poet. An enthusiast of… quite a few different fields. Perhaps I could have made some small difference to somebody’s life before I kicked the bucket. Preferably positive, I mean. Now, I was First Minister of a Free State that was just about to come out of a famine. I had bodies to my name, if only through negligence and idiocy. That was the legacy I had to my name at the moment.

Somehow, only now did it finally begin to feel real. Only when I was throwing soil over my shoulder onto a pile did the magnitude of what my life had come to really sink in. People had come to me hoping for better, and I’d failed them. Some of them, perhaps, but some was worse than none. And, apparently, the only person who found that even a little disquieting was myself. Not even the pony who considered herself the protector of all ponykind saw fault in me for leading four of her little ponies to an early demise.

Two graves dug.

It must have been that damned herd mentality. I’d have thought that death would have been much more serious in Equestria, for ponies, compared to Earth. Tragedies like that were not a fact of life here like they were there. And yet… I had had the great misfortune of having to come around to the families of the dead – no small feat, considering we still didn’t have a proper residence registry, and thus I didn’t know where ponies actually lived – and inform them of their loved ones’ deaths. Only one pony dared to even raise their voice at me.

I couldn’t understand why. Why wasn’t I blamed for it? Did I simply not explain myself enough? Did I have to provide proof of my complicity in their deaths before they’d feel justified slagging me off? It might sound silly to some, for me to desperately wish consequences for my actions – besides the ones I’d pushed on myself, I mean – but… at the same time, was it really okay for me to… simply get away with having let four people die?

I wasn’t even going to bury any pony here this day. I was digging empty graves to put empty coffins in. Just for the sake of making myself feel better. Of working through my feelings. The dead deserved better than that, didn’t they? I could have chosen to bury the one pony without any family here. Snapper was his name; the pony that Sawbones had brought in right in front of me, that day at the clinic. I thought I remembered him from somewhere before then. It didn’t make me feel any better that I couldn’t recall exactly where from.

Four graves dug.

One each for Snapper, Tinted Brass, Fern Crook, and Creosole. Not that they’d ever actually find their final resting places here, of course. The three with family would be released back to them. Snapper… was most likely going to be buried somewhere here in the Free State. Not here – this was just a personal ritual. Probably I’d have an actual graveyard set up alongside this fake one, elsewhere, or just have them cremated. Maybe.

Nevertheless, in went the four empty coffins. Filling the graves back up was significantly easier work. Before too long, only four rectangular patches of ruffed dirt marked my efforts – together with four white crosses, one at the head of each patch.

I stepped back, finally done, feeling the hours of labour across every sore muscle in my body. Honestly, now that it was done, it seemed simply laughable. What was the point of all this?

I exhaled, shaking my head. Despite it all, I did in fact feel a little better. Even though this simple empty gesture might not have meant anything to anyone other than myself. Even though this didn’t actually fix anything meaningful. Even though I could have spent this time better, more meaningfully than simply… paying homage. Even though I’d done all this for nothing.

I struck my shovel into the earth, fixing it in place, resting an arm on its handle to lean against it. I wasn’t a religious person, not really, but… I hoped, wherever the spirits of the dead were, whatever they might have thought of me… I hoped they knew I wasn’t going to forget them. Not now, not ever.

I looked up. It was tough to see the sun past the treetops dominating half the horizon, but the warm orange across the sky was a dead giveaway – I’d spent perhaps a little longer here than I’d intended. Mid-October evenings were deceptively chilly; it was fortunate I’d spent most of it digging, but now that I was not so preoccupied, the chill of the faint breeze billowing across the land sent me into shivers.

I looked back. Four white crosses stared me in the face.

I figured it was a small price to pay, to pay my respects to the ponies I’d failed.

Hey… guys. It’s me. I… I hope you’re in a better place now. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you what I promised. I know better now, at least. I… hope you can take some small comfort in the knowledge that I learned from my mistakes. I’ll do my best to make sure no-one else has to join you here. I know where I’ve went wrong. I won’t fail anyone like that again. I…

I’d promise, but… I’d rather prove it.

I took my shovel with me when I left.

Construct was waiting for me at my door when I returned. A gentle smile was upon her.

“First Minister,” she greeted. “I was waiting for you here.”

“So I see,” I returned, sticking my shovel in the earth off to the side. I’d worry about it rusting later. “You got anything for me?”

“Crops are done,” she said, simply. A little too simply, for her, but I didn’t much care – harvest time had finally come around.

I sighed, sagging in place from relief I was sure I didn’t deserve to feel. “Oh, ye Gods,” I breathed. “Thank fuck. Yes,” I continued, more firmly, to Construct. “Get it done. I’ve…”

I didn’t bother finishing, but Construct clearly knew what I was trying to say, going by the crinkle around her eyes and the faintest of nods she threw at me. I walked past her into my house, having four months’ worth of exhaustion rush me all at once.

I couldn’t even take satisfaction in knowing that soon, my people would start getting fed properly again. Because they wouldn’t, would they? Was I really going to make the same mistake I’d made months ago? No – I was not. Spontaneous decision-making was a thing of the past – with my newfound experience, I was never going to do that. Rationing was going to be a fact of life in the Free State, until I’d solved our food insecurity definitively – or, failing that, until we’d done so.

I didn’t even bother undressing before I fell into bed, next to my roommate Lyra – who, I was heartened greatly to discover when I put a hand on her, was still warm, and breathing – and alive. There, at least, was one person who I had not failed yet.

And, God willing, one person, of thousands, who I would never fail.

18. Growing Pains VIII – The Light of Dawn

So.

Those were the first four months, and change, of my First Ministership. One part education, one part decision-making… four or five parts fuck-ups. Among a couple of some other things, of course, but that was the gist of it.

For once, I’d felt that the nice sunrise I was drinking a coffee to was rather appropriate for the moment. Celestia might have been the goddess of the sun, but as a poet I reckoned I had first dibs on tortuously crowbarred-in pretentious metaphors about new dawns. Like that one I’d used in the speech that kicked off this whole shitshow, come to think of it.

I’d had some time to come to grips with things. Yet again, I was rescued from spiralling into myself with guilt and grief by another person. First Lyra, now Celestia. I suppose Blueblood helped out, too. Maybe there was something to be said for the whole ‘friendship’ thing. Regardless, I’d said everything I needed to say, Celestia had said what she wanted to say, and Blueblood had torn me an incredibly necessary new one. I knew what I’d done, what I could have done, what I should have done. Too late for it all now. All I could do was look forward.

Which was what I was doing, actually, though unsuccessfully – the glare of the sun was making it pretty difficult to see through my window, particularly with how greasy my glasses were.

Finally, after so goddamn long, life was finally returning to the streets of the Free State. Even at this early hour, I saw two ponies walking around outside, side-by-side, doing something or another. I could hardly even recall the last time I’d seen any pony wandering the streets in the last four or so weeks, other than Construct’s lot. Some irony was to be had there, as I saw it, considering the leaves were turning yellow and dropping off – life preparing to slumber beneath the sheets of snow of the upcoming winter.

I sighed. Well. That’ll be a few things to take note of, huh? Straight-away back to State business – winter was going to be a good chunk of time we wouldn’t be able to grow food. It’d be a good chunk of time ponies weren’t going to be too comfortable going outside, even indoors if it got too bad. It’d be a good chunk of time little was going to be done outside, in short. With any luck, snowfall wouldn’t be too prohibitive, otherwise we might well all get snowed in, figuratively and literally.

Thank you, lesson four. Planning ahead.

Anyway.

I’d finished off my coffee and turned around just in time to spot my two foals just as they came trotting into the kitchen. “Good morning, kids,” I greeted, cutting off their own salutations – to which they decided to retaliate by simply running up to my legs in their usual fashion. With eager chuckles, I bent down to ruffle their manes, to their endless amusement. I found myself feeling warm as I did so.

“Did you sleep well?” I asked them. They didn’t reply verbally, choosing to instead nod strongly – rubbing their heads against my hands as they did so, natch. Cute little kiddos, I had to admit. “What would you like for breakfast?”

“You mean we can choose?” squealed Bowmound, looking up at me with an expression of wonder I could only chuckle at. “Wow!” He immediately ran off to my icebox, flipping it open with rather more force than strictly necessary, Silent Wish joining him soon after with similar childlike joy.

Hmm. That’s actually pretty depressing, come to think of it. Every single pony who could walk was on the field, and every single icebox in the Free State – other than mine – was there too, being filled up. Choosing one’s meal was a luxury when the only icebox left for the foals was full of bread, rice and vegetables. Thankfully, those days at least would be gone for good now – I could make sure of that much.

The two kids returned with goodies loaded on their backs… somehow. I still didn’t really understand how ponies were so adept at manipulating things without hands, but I suspected the answer had something to do with magic. Because it was always magic with ponies. I quickly relieved them of their cargo, checked to see if any of it had gotten dirty or furry – ponies, after all – and soon served them their meals.

“Thank you, daddy,” chorused the two in their usual manner.

That word still managed to make me feel uneasy, despite having resigned myself to the future I had… mostly chosen for myself. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was, exactly, so I didn’t bother – instead smiling and nodding.

The front door creaking open caught my attention, and I turned to look at the hallway. A two-toned mint mane poked out from the corner, soon revealing the rest of Lyra behind it.

“Morning, Ly,” I said, moving over to her to offer a gentle pat on the back, earning me another smile. “Glad to see you back on your feet. Hooves, I mean – gah, whatever. Sawbones treat you alright?”

“Hehe.” Her voice still had some amount of fatigue to it. “Thanks. And yes, I’m feeling much better now.”

With my nod, she walked over to the table, greeting the foals enthusiastically but not quite committing to getting glomped by them just yet. I smirked, peering out of the still-open door to check if anyone else was coming to visit -

And, as a matter of fact, someone was. Construct was nearing, looking as neutral as ever. I waved her down, to which she sped up slightly. “Morning,” I called out.

“Good morning, First Minister,” she said, quickly stepping inside. I shut the door behind her.

Construct and I left Lyra to deal with the foals, as I led her into my study. I’d asked a pony to pass the message along to her that I wanted to speak with her soon – naturally, she had found time for it the very next day, practically just after the first crack of dawn. I settled into my chair at my desk, turning it sideways so I wouldn’t have to crane my neck like an owl to look at her.

Now that she was stood in front of me in the spare bedroom I insisted on calling an office, she seemed a little more fidgety than usual. She’d shrunk into herself ever so slightly – I saw her wings were vibrating, for lack of a better term, in a way that reminded me of how my own hands tended to shake when I got overwhelmed. Or after I’d drunk my fourth coffee in two hours. Either or, really.

“Sturdy Construct,” I began. “I’ve called you to speak with me here for a few reasons. Don’t worry, it isn’t to dress you down, or anything. I just… wanted to say a few things.”

It didn’t seem to reassure her much, I noted, so I kept going. “First off, I’d like to say that the work you have done here is nothing short of incredible. I know you were contracted out to merely build a settlement here, that is to say just the buildings and infrastructure. I know that my actions were… quite a wrench in those particular works – but you didn’t let that get in your way. I know I’ve asked you to do things that you had not planned to do during your time here, and yet you did them without complaint, and with your usual standards of excellence. I asked you to incorporate unskilled, untrained ponies into your brigades, and you did so immediately, and effectively. I… asked you to do a few things you might have found… questionable, and you still did them to the best of your ability. I’m perfectly willing to write a letter of commendation for you, to your employers, letting them know of precisely what the miracles you’ve worked here are.”

Construct’s slack-jawed expression was practically alien on her, stoic as she was. I resisted the chuckle threatening to bubble out of my throat. “Never thought you’d be endorsed by a head of state, huh? I mean it. I’ve got one drafted already, even, assuming I can’t convince you to stay.”

“I…” The pegasus was lost for words. I smiled at her, waiting patiently for her to recover, which fortunately didn’t take very long. “I… thank you, First Minister. I appreciate your kind words.” Then, when she finally figured out what I was telling her… “Wait… what do you mean, convince me to stay?”

I sighed. “Look, Construct… fuck it, I’ll tell it to you straight. I can’t rule like this. Alone. Making decisions like that, by myself, I just can’t do. Look at what the fallout of that kind of management was. You’ve been a great help in getting this project off of the ground so far, but… I can’t help but wonder…” I shook my head clear of those thoughts. It continued to be too late for them. “Never mind. The point is… I was hoping to convince you to stay on, on a more permanent basis.”

For the second time, Construct was stunned into silence. Not hearing any immediate questions, or denials, I continued. “I know it’s a very big thing to ask of you. If you don’t want to commit to this, that’s perfectly fine by me. I’ll let you go on your way, commendation in hand, and you can go back to Equestria. You’ve already done so much. But… well, I figured I could tempt you with an opportunity to get in on the ground floor of this little venture of mine.

“I, ah… don’t exactly have much to offer at the moment, besides what I already have to deal with – leadership, national management, things like that. I won’t deny it’s difficult – fuck, I’ve got first-hand experience in that. And I won’t deny that it might be a little different from the kind of work you’ve done for your career, and it might be overwhelming.” Christ, this might well be the worst sales pitch you’ve ever given, Inns.

“But, should you choose to accept, I can guarantee you that you’ll be working to improve the lives of a hell of a lot more ponies than you ever could before. Directly, if you’d prefer, in a role similar to your current one, or closer to me, top-down. You’d be given the resources of the entire Free State for you to use as you see fit in your duties, and no doubt the support of the population, as well as mine – and my other employees’, in the future. Definitely one hell of a promotion, wouldn’t you say?”

…

Construct was apparently too busy checking that her jaw was working properly to reply. A sensible response, to be perfectly honest – if it was any less secure, it might well have fallen to hit her hooves. I folded my hands across in my lap and waited patiently, trying to avoid looking too hopeful. After long, long moments spent in silence, Construct finally worked up the resolve to speak.

“…I-I don’t… that’s…”

Well, sort of.

“Don’t worry,” I placated. “I’m not trying to pressure you into this, or anything. If you don’t want to do this, I won’t hold it against you. I just… I could really use somepony like you on my side,” I confessed, dropping my voice perhaps lower than was strictly professional. “No man rules alone. I can only see things one way. You’re the kind of pony I could use to kick me in the pants when I’m being a stubborn idiot. You’re capable, clever, and you’re not biased. As far as I can tell, anyway. I’m… sure, you might even have done better than me.”

“I doubt what you are saying very much, First Minister,” she said, voice equally lowered. She stepped closer, bowing her head, looking up at me from under her mane. “I’m just a project manager. I know how to build settlements. I don’t know how to manage a nation. I’m not the mare for the job.”

“Neither was I,” I replied. “You’re a lucky w- ahem, mare, Construct. I was thrust into this position. To begin with, anyway. You’ve got a choice I wasn’t lucky enough to have. Celestia told me there were few ponies who could have done better in my place. ‘Four dead is a tragedy, but don’t let it overshadow the thousand that are still alive.’ I’m… not quite sure I can believe her, but I do believe you are one of those few. You’ve got experience in management. I’ve got experience in reading fucking books.”

Now, Construct’s head was bowed fully, concealing her eyes and expression, which I nevertheless figured must have been one of intense soul-searching. “You don’t have to make a decision now,” I told her. “Take some time, if you need it. Although I would like your decision as soon as possible, for… ah, professional reasons. I’ve got one more thing to ask of you anyway, before you go.”

“Hmm?” She looked back up at me, dazed briefly by my new request.

I smiled. “I’d quite like for you to build some dedicated office space for me – the government, I guess – before you go back to Equestria. I’m a little bit sick of theory-crafting a country in a spare bedroom.”

Finally, I got a laugh out of her, small and short though it may have been. “Of course, First Minister,” she replied, voice light. “Once we finish with the harvest, I’ll get started on that.”

“Thank you, Construct,” I finished, standing to my feet. Construct took it as her cue, turning around and making her way out of the room -

“Boo!” exclaimed the two foals waiting behind the door. Construct let out a sharp yell and leapt backwards, taking to the air instinctively, eliciting yells of satisfaction from the perpetrators.

“Yes!” shouted Bowmound. “We got you! You got scared!”

“You got scared! You got scared!”

Snrk, came a noise out from my throat. My foals had tried that trick on me a few times in the past, but it had never worked. Not outwardly, anyway – I will admit that perhaps once, I might have had to stop myself from jerking in shock. Construct, though… was patiently furling her wings back up, looking at the foals with something approaching exasperation.

“Now, kids, be nice to Miss Construct,” I said, coming up behind her to see the two look up at me as innocently as they could. Lyra was behind them, attempting to conceal her own amusement, poorly. “Why don’t you apologise for scaring her like that, mmm?”

“Sorry,” chorused the two, unconvincingly. It was enough for Construct, though, a smile breaking out from under her despite her best efforts, so I let it go. With a hand, I waved the two kids back to Lyra, offering a sympathetic glance to Construct.

“They try that a lot on me,” I said. “Good kids, though. Maybe if you stay long enough here, you’ll adopt two orphans of your own?”

An actual, genuine warm laugh escaped her, causing Lyra’s ears to perk towards her. “Oh, Celestia, no,” she chuckled. “I’m nowhere near ready for that kind of responsibility.”

“Neither was I,” I said.

Construct turned her whole head to look at me, surprised. All I offered her was a smile. “But I like to think it all worked out in the end.”

Construct nodded, turning back to the two foals, busy pestering Lyra to do something or another with her. “…I suppose so,” she said lowly, nodding almost involuntarily. “I suppose so.”

I didn’t much like being back in the clinic.

“So, Sawbones,” I said, not stepping too deeply into the building just yet. “How are we looking here?”

Yeah, I know. Too little, too late. That was only some of what I was here for, at any rate. I was mostly just here to prolong the inevitable speech I was going to have to give to whoever was able to show up at the sawmill. It… was not something to look forward to, considering its contents. I doubted I’d even get much flak for it – which, on the whole, was what made it so distasteful.

“Getting through it, First Minister,” came the somewhat strained reply. Only the rear half of the good doctor was visible; the rest of him was rummaging around an elongated crate that appeared to serve double duty as a reception desk when it was closed. “About eight hundred have come through here, treated them all so far. That’s… what…”

“Two, three hundred more,” I supplied.

“Thank you. Few more days, and we’ll be done here.”

I nodded, gratefully, looking around the place – it seemed to be just about as full as it was the first time I’d entered. “No… complications?”

“No, sir,” he said, and I just about fell over from relief. Thank fuck. No-one else had to join them. “Was touch-and-go for the red tags, for a little while, the first ones I had to deal with, but they’ve come out fine. Complicating factors, you know how it is. Yellows had a week or two more to go. Just a few more of them to go, and then I can start prescribing good-old-fashioned supplements instead of faffing around doing my job.”

I blinked, and opened my mouth to throw out some half-baked reprimand, but it never came. I had no right. He’d probably seen a lot worse, anyhow. “A few? Clinic still looks full to me.”

“Empty cots are at the far end,” he said, by way of explanation. I chose to take his word on it. “Ah, there it is. Blasted thing.”

Finally, the crate had had enough of having Sawbones in it, and he was promptly thrown out of it – with a smaller box in his hooves. He turned to finally give me a nod, which I returned somewhat less enthusiastically. “Feel like helping an old stallion out with his work?” he asked, thrusting the box at me.

I didn’t deliberate for very long, walking up to relieve him of the burden. “You got it, doc. Where do ya need this?”

The simple feeling of moving stuff around did wonders to take my mind off things. Holding boxes, giving their contents to the doc when he asked for it… medicine was not something I knew terribly much about, but I still found it a fascinating topic. If my hands didn’t shake so much, I reckoned I could have made a decent go of it at med school. Instead, my life had led me here, as… I didn’t even know. A scholar? An engineer? An artist?

Heh. Another way I was doing things wrong. I’ve done it like an artist, where I should have seen it as an engineering problem.

“First Minister?”

A voice broke me out of my rather… idiosyncratic musings. It wasn’t the doctor’s, and it definitely wasn’t mine. I looked down at the cot I was standing at the foot of – and so did Sawbones, a little more concerned than I was. The distractingly pink pony who was resting on it was looking at me, eyes wide in wonder. “It’s…”

“Easy there, son,” said Sawbones, moving to put a hoof on the pony’s forehead. “You aren’t quite out of the woods yet. Rest up. You’ll be back on your hooves within a day.”

The pony blinked slowly, and eased himself back down. His eyes remained on me, wide as ever. “It’s… the First Minister is…”

I tried to hide my grimace. The First Minister is helping the doctor fix me up. That was no badge of honour. He shouldn’t have even needed to be in the clinic in the first place. “You heard the doctor, sir. I’d hate to do anything to prolong your stay here. Get some rest. You’ll be fine.”

Sawbones nodded in approval, taking another bag of clear fluid off of my hands and hooking it up to the IV stand. The pony obligingly stuck a hoof out and lolled his head to the side, closing his eyes, apparently taking our advice to try to go to sleep.

My grim exhale went unnoticed by the cot pony, but not the doctor, who paused in his work for a single moment to throw me a glance I couldn’t even begin to unpack. It wasn’t so much that I was uncomfortable by the adulation I was apparently being lavished in – or awe, worship, personality cult, whatever the reason was he looked at me like I was an angel at the foot of his cot – though I was. I was just a guy. That’s not worth worship.

What it really was, was the knowledge that I could well have gotten that pony killed, too, because of what I did. He probably knew that – and if not, then… if he didn’t show for my speech, some other pony would undoubtedly tell him of it – and yet he still looked at me like that. I couldn’t understand. Little was adding up. Was leadership, in Equestria, just automatically a quality worth worship? That was laughable – and yet, no other conclusion was drawn forth.

Damn it. So much for clearing my thoughts.

Sawbones was surprisingly understanding when I made my excuses and left, only suggesting I come back some other time to help him finish up. I doubted I’d take him up on it, but the option was nice to have, at least.

In the end, I’d put it off for as long as I could. Just about the whole country was in front of me, looking up at the raised platform of the sawmill I was soon going to have to replace with something actually fit for purpose. Not that I could actually see a thousand ponies in front of me – there just wasn’t enough floor space for that. Not with houses in front and to the sides. Instead, a few had chosen to stay behind buildings, around corners, within earshot. Many more had elected to stand to the sides of and behind the sawmill, again within earshot. So long as I didn’t start whispering, everypony would hear me.

Behind me, on stage but out of the focus, were Blueblood and Construct, quietly talking to each other. I’d asked them along as a courtesy. I didn’t really need them to hear this, but I figured I could at least… I didn’t even know. Show the people I had advisors? A better gesture than nothing, I’d figured.

And now, here I was, standing in front of my subjects… not saying a fucking word.

I was leaning on what I thought was a cross between a bannister and a lectern, arms folded, a tired gaze surveying the ponies in front of me. I had, once again, had the luxury of writing out a speech to give, just like the first one I’d given in Canterlot. No ass-pulling was going to cut it here. Not with what I was going to talk about.

They say honesty is like oxygen: the higher up you go, the less of it there is.

Not today.

“Friends. Comrades. Countrymen... my people.” My voice rang out hard and sharp, slicing through the air effortlessly. At once, I returned to being First Minister Inns – standing straight, gaze practically scalding. “It has been a long and hard four months since the day I arrived to the Free State to find five hundred ponies at my doorstep. That day, I made a pledge to you all - to protect you, to nurture you, to raise you above yourselves... to give you a home, a livelihood, a friend - a community. I pledged this all and more, out of my own two hands, if necessary to my dying breath.

“I made no illusions as to what we were facing. I was not ready for those five hundred. The reality we faced was famine. Overcrowding, dangerous weather, disease, and a hundred smaller challenges between. I had believed that, through my efforts, through your perseverance, through our hardship and sacrifices, we could have overcome these challenges, and have come out a stronger people for it.

“In fact, many of my efforts had only exacerbated those challenges. Even if unintentionally, I made decisions that created problems. Exacerbated problems. Worse, I did not make decisions that could have solved, or relieved, these problems, either out of fear for the future, or through simple thoughtlessness. Now, as a consequence of my decision-making, four of the residents of the Free State are now dead.”

I was getting dangerously close to wavering – I took a moment to quietly clear my throat before continuing. “I promised you all a home, a livelihood, a friend... a place where no pony would ever have to go hungry again. Snapper; Creosole; Tinted Brass; Fern Crook. For these four ponies, that promise is now irrevocably broken, as a result of the actions I took, myself. I know this. It will weigh on my soul for the rest of my life.

“…I have already reflected on where I have gone wrong in service to those four ponies, and to you all here today. The mistakes I made could easily have been prevented, the solutions I did not consider could easily have been implemented... the promises I made to you could still mean something to those four. I know I do not deserve to stand in front of you, and expect you to follow me.

“However, the one promise I still hold onto, that I will not ever break, that I can not ever break, is to continue to provide for those who might still want, and need, the help that I can give. I promised to work to better the lives of you all, to the best of my ability, to the day I die. That promise, if none other, still holds value.

“It is too late to change the past, now. All that is left is to learn from it, and to make sure its mistakes are never repeated in the future. I can not bring Snapper, or Fern Crook, or Creosole or Tinted Brass, back from their resting places. All that is left for me to do, is to make sure that their deaths were not meaningless; to make sure nopony else ever needs to join them. Rest assured, my people - I will not repeat my mistakes. Not. Ever. Again.

“Thank you all.”

My speech was abruptly cut off. I glanced around the crowd I could see in front of me – it all stood, transfixed, in total silence. It was about the warmest reception I was expecting from that – no-one likes being told their leadership actually sucks shit, after all. I swallowed heavily, considered simply turning around and walking into the sawmill – and then, that was exactly what I did, rounding on my heel.

A noise behind me made me stop. Turning back to the crowd, rather stupidly I’ll admit, I looked about owlishly, trying to pinpoint it again, like I was a dictator looking for the dissenter. (Alright, perhaps that was a poor analogy…) Then, I heard it again. And again. Then… an awful lot.

It was the sound of hooves on dirt.

Was I…

That was how ponies clapped, wasn’t it? Was I really being clapped, after a speech like that?

The sound grew practically physical, vibrating the wooden deck under my feet, growing only more and more intense. It was all I could do to hang on to the lectern-thing for dear life, eyes widened about as far as they’d go, overwhelmed by the support my ponies were still, apparently, willing to give me. Unless they were trying to induce an earthquake to collapse the sawmill on top of me, I could only assume I was being applauded by a thousand ponies – the vast majority of my subjects.

After the speech I’d just given.

I raised my arms high, asking for quiet. I supposed I had to say something more, after a show of support like that. The ponies in front of me stopped their running in place, or whatever they were doing to make that racket, at once. The effect rippled out like a Mexican wave, ponies falling still like a pair of curtains being opened. Soon, the Free State was silent once more.

“I…” Instantly, my voice broke. I shook my head, quietly embarrassed, and cleared my throat to try again. “I can’t…” That time, it was for lack of anything to say. To convey precisely what I was feeling at that moment. I had no prepared response this time.

“I… humbly thank you, my loyal citizens, for the trust you continue to place in me, despite my shortcomings. I will not ever fail you again. Not ever again.”

This time, cheers broke out alongside the hoofstomping. I raised my arms again, this time not as high, to convey my gratitude to my ponies.

“You seem to have a predilection for the gloomy speeches, First Minister,” remarked Construct, as I walked up to join Blueblood and her, after the crowd had begun to disperse. “Anypony ever told you to lighten up a bit?”

“Yes, actually, frequently.” I rolled my eyes. “Never reckoned there was much point in it.”

Some reluctant huffs of what might have been amusement were exchanged between the three of us, before Construct returned to talking to Blueblood. I waited patiently for them to finish – I wasn’t in a big rush.

“…Like I was saying,” said Blueblood. “You will need to address it to the Chancellery. They’ll get your details sent along to where they will need to be. I won’t be able to help speed anything along; I can only deliver the note. I suspect I’ll be busy here for a long while yet, after all.”

“Right,” nodded Construct. “Got it. Here’s hoping they don’t lose my tax bits along the way. I’ll have that handed to you by tomorrow evening, at the latest. Thank you, Lord Commissioner.” She smirked. “Or, I guess Ambassador now.”

“Of course,” Blueblood nodded back. “I’ll be in my quarters, then. Good day, madam. First Minister.”

We all exchanged one final nod, before Blueblood walked past us and away to his own business. Construct turned to me, ready with a soft smile. “Right,” she began. “I’ve had some time, I’ve thought about your offer.”

“Yes?”

“Well…” Oh wow. So that’s how annoying it is when I do it. “You are right. It would be a lot of work, a lot of getting used to new responsibilities. I think it would be a lot easier, for me, to simply consider this a job well done and to go back to my home in Equestria.”

“Right, of course.”

Honestly, that was exactly what I was expecting to hear from her. I mean, wasn’t I a prime example of what could happen if a person was thrust into a position like that-

“But then, I thought about it some more, and I realised… I… you…” A pause. I gave her the time she needed. “…well, what I mean to say is…” She looked up at me, then, with eyes so full and sparkling it almost made me gasp. “...You were right,” she eventually settled on. “This… has been so much more fulfilling than any job I’ve ever taken before. Everything else, everything before this, was just… a project. An obligation. A task for me to do, get paid for, and move on to the next.”

“And then I mucked it all up,” I said glibly.

“And then you showed me what the impact of my work really was,” she corrected. “Out here, working alongside the ponies I was developing this land for… it… that wasn’t something I ever did before. They…”

This time, the stumbling block proved too much. She shook her head. “I can’t describe it. Was… was that something you felt, when you were working as First Minister?”

I inhaled. “…Working alongside the ponies I was taking care of, yeah. Giving them what I promised. Before I mucked it all up – that hasn’t even stopped them.”

“…I’m giving Blueblood a letter to take to the Chancellery of Domestic Affairs,” she said. “It shouldn’t take too long for them to process my change of residence.”

…

“You mean…?”

"If you really think I'm the mare for the job... I suppose I can try to talk you down from making poor decisions again." She smiled, and held out a hoof. “Sign me up, First Minister.”

The feeling of relief, satisfaction, happiness, that washed over me as I shook her hoof was practically explosive in its power. I gladly, and perhaps a little too enthusiastically, shook her hoof, giving her a brilliant little smile that she soon adopted too. “Happy to hear it,” I said, after searching for something for just a touch too long. “Really, I mean that. I couldn’t think of anyone else I’d rather have in my cabinet than you.”

“…You mean…?”

I snorted. “No better method than trial by fire. Apparently. Congratulations on your new post, Second Minister Construct.”

I’d expected her to react quite strongly to that little chestnut. I’d half-braced myself for her to leap up into my chest, so I’d have to catch and cradle her like the world’s most excited cat. I’d also been ready for a slap to the face – part sunny optimism, and part me throwing her in that position the same way I’d been thrown into mine, though I was of course ready to offer her something more manageable if she disagreed that vehemently.

Instead, all I got was a nod, and a very serious look indeed. “Thank you, First Minister Inns. I won’t let you down.”

“Please.” I rolled my eyes. “We’re going to be working together a hell of a lot, now. I think you’ve earned the right to call me by my first name.”

“Then call me by mine,” she immediately replied, her serious face melting away quickly enough that it must have been a thin facade at best.

“Bleh. Just saying ‘Sturdy’ by itself sounds weird. Sorry, but I’ve just gotten too used to calling you Construct.”

She laughed. “Well, it was worth a shot. Fine, Adam. I look forward to working with you.”

“As do I.”

19. Interlude II – Torn from the Headlines

The Canterer
Equestria’s #1 Newspaper

25 October, ALW 998

Still 1 bit!

NOBILITY SHAKE-UP FROM THE SOUTH-WEST

Recent developments in the Las Pegasus embezzlement scandal have prompted the Office of the Celestial Diarchy to finally take action, launching an official investigation into the alleged misconduct of Lord High Roller, current councillor of the Shallow Shade community in Las Pegasus.

The accusations were first launched against Lord Roller by one Nocked Fur, who is a bureaucrat for the Las Pegasus treasury department. The allegations include bribery, embezzlement, and money laundering, though Lord Roller has denied the accusations. All involved parties have been temporarily suspended, pending the investigation.

There is considerable evidence levied against Lord High Roller, which has been described as ‘damning’ and ‘incontrovertible proof’ by those involved. If convicted, Lord High Roller could face penalties as severe as banishment from Equestria.

The recent developments have caused some to believe that a major reshuffle of the House of Lords may be inbound. One concerned citizen stated, “There’s no way he walks onto a stand, in front of the Princess, and doesn’t get plucked clean. He’s not coming back – and he’s going to take an awful lot of others with him.”

It is an open secret that Prince Blueblood has coveted an official position in the House of Lords for some time, though no official statement has yet been made by the Diarchy. Prince Blueblood himself was not available for comment. Other candidates for the prospective open position include Lord Jet Set, Dame Fanned Muzzle, and Lady Crimson.

[more. p.4]

RECORD MIGRATION NUMBERS THROUGHOUT EQUESTRIA

Recent census data shows that a record amount of ponies have changed their residential address throughout Equestria. The wave of migrations is the biggest seen in Equestria for two hundred years, though no exact cause has been yet found. The Chancellery of Domestic Affairs has declined to comment on the wave, though an anonymous source within the Chancellery has stated that “such waves are a fact of society, even if they are uncommon…”

[cont. p.9]

DIARCHY MULLS EXTRAORDINARY POWERS ACT

Rumours abound from the Office of the Celestial Diarchy that Princess Celestia, Diarch of Equestria, may be considering activating the Extraordinary Powers of the Crown Act. The rumour comes from a source within the Equestrian government, who remains anonymous.

The Extraordinary Powers Act would allow Princess Celestia to suspend most functions of civilian governance, instead administering large portions of Equestria directly from the throne, as well as being given carte blanche to re-organise the government in what manner she may see fit, to most effectively safeguard Equestria. The Extraordinary Powers Act has only ever been activated once before, at the outbreak of the Long Night.

No reason has yet been given for the consideration, and the Diarchy has not yet confirmed nor denied the rumours. However, the atmosphere in government nevertheless remains one of disquiet. “Her Highness is keeping her cards close to her chest,” remarked one official, who remains anonymous. “If we don’t need to know, we won’t – but ponies will still speculate.”

[more p.15]

MANEHATTAN DEVELOPMENT RECORD SUCCESS

A recent residential housing project in Manehattan has made headlines in the region, for coming out ahead of schedule and under budget. The project, a high-density residential district intended to create housing for 8,600 ponies, has come up half a million bits under its budget, and eighteen weeks ahead of schedule. This is the first time a development project in the region has exceeded its goals in sixty-five years.

The success has been credited to the ‘revolutionary new techniques’ introduced by the company holding the contract, Stonehoof Architectural Solutions. The manager of the project, Hammer Strike, was reportedly pleased by the success of the innovative techniques. “Stonehoof Architectural Solutions has always been known for doing more with less,” he said, “and that shall not change now.”

However, the speed has left some local residents wary of the new developments. “Shoddy business is what it sounds like to me,” said a concerned resident. “I’d bet my bottom bit that half a million went to line the pockets of some manager in an office somewhere.” The public records released by Stonehoof Architectural Solutions appear to have put much of the suspicions to rest, however…

[cont. p.16]

FREE STATE EMBOLDENS DEVOLUTION PROPONENTS

Recent polling numbers indicate that the Devolution policy is gaining ground across all of Equestria. The previous regional elections saw two former conservative strongholds flip to Devolution, with the mayorships of Las Pegasus and Dodge City going to Brown Nose and Leading Edge, respectively.

However, despite rocky starts to their incumbencies, approval ratings for the two are as high as 81%, levels not seen in a hundred and thirty years. Across the rest of Equestria, support for Devolution appears to only be increasing. It is theorised that of the fourteen seats up for election next year, all but three will be taken by devolutionaries, including that of Detrot and Birminghoof.

The sudden upswing in support has been thought to be caused by the recent ascent of the Free State of the White Tail Woods, to the north of Las Pegasus. Proponents point to the explosive growth of its population as proof of its popularity, as well as the input their citizens are allowed to make to policy. Having obtained the tacit continued approval of the Diarchy, they claim, there is no reason this system, which bears similarities to Devolution, could not work for Equestria.

However, critics have pointed out the youth and inexperience of the First Minister, and claim that the differing circumstances make the comparison fallacious. In addition, they claim that the success of the Free State has been overstated, in an attempt to obfuscate the policy’s failings – with rumours of the Free State suffering famine and housing shortages lending credence to their words…

[cont. p.20]

45 ARTIFACTS SEIZED IN UNICORN RANGE RAID

The Royal Guard has released a statement regarding the recent raid on a warehouse in Alicorn Valley, located in the Unicorn Mountain Range. The Guard has confirmed the seizure of forty-five dangerous magical artifacts stored inside. No arrests were made, and the perpetrators are assumed to remain at large. The artifacts appear to have been primarily hand-crafted, though five have been confirmed to be stolen.

“These artifacts are incredibly potent weapons of thaumaturgical destruction. With their seizure, criminal organisations that may have wished to harness their power have been dealt a blow. Equestria is now a safer place.”

[more p.22]

NEW ‘ANTHROPOLOGY’ THESIS PUBLISHED

A controversial new thesis has been published in Thauma, the CSGU’s native multidisciplinary academic journal. The thesis, titled ‘The anthropology of pre-celestial history,’ published by Winter Rose et al, claims that ancient equine development has been guided by a race of previously-unknown beings. The thesis claims that these beings are, in fact, humans, such as Adam Inns, who appeared in mysterious circumstances just under three years ago.

Despite considerable criticism levied at it, the thesis appears to present some credible evidence, such as the existence of ancient musical instruments, recently unearthed in the south of Zebrica, that have apparently ‘clearly not been designed for hooved use,’ according to Winter Rose. Whether the thesis is credible or not remains a topic of intense debate among archaeological and historical communities. Adam Inns has not yet been reached for comment…

[cont. p.25]

20. Interlude II – Private Correspondence

Dear Jet Set

I don’t even know why I bother with these messages to you any longer. Maybe it’s because you might regain some spark of our romance when you read these letters to yourself, the same way we spoke all those years ago. I know it sounds like false hope nowadays, after so much time spent in each other’s company, but can you blame me for indulging in a little nostalgia?

I know, I know. You almost definitely won’t read this letter, no matter how I try to get it across to you. Maybe that’s part of the problem, that we’ve spent so much time face-to-face that we’ve forgotten how to treat each other as new, exciting additions to our lives, the same way we treated each other all those years ago…

I’m afraid I must ask you to ignore any stains you might find on this roll of parchment; those are only the remnants of a potiological mishap, ~~and certainly not as a result of any emotional tumult~~

It’s just that the memory of reading your first letter to me

If I knew how

I lov

I’m so sorry. It’s just that I miss you so much. I miss the feeling of you nuzzling yourself against my neck, of you being with me when we share a night in bed, of you comforting me in my darkest moments of my life. Where has our life together gone? It feels like just yesterday that we were content with only the company of ourselves, and damn the rest of Equus to the fiery pits of Tartarus! Please tell me, my Settler! Where have our lives gone? Why am I not the mare you fell in love with all those years ago? Why are you not the stallion I fell in love with?

I miss you so much, dear Jet Set. Please come back to me.

Addressed to Lord Jet Set

Unfortunately, the First Minister has declined my generous offer of food alleviations in exchange for extraction rights. They have made it clear to me that the Free State market is closed off to us for the foreseeable future.

Yours faithfully,
Lady Upper Crust

Master High Roller of Shallow Shade,

I have reason to believe your enmity with Sir Nocked is about to reach its boiling point. The city of Las Pegasus will very soon become hostile to personalities such as ours. I suggest you move your indemnities elsewhere as soon as possible. Perhaps you could offer your services to the new Free State in exchange for umbrella? I hear they’re in a spot of trouble at the moment, which shouldn’t be too much bother to fix up.

Your loyal servant,
Pockmarked Ditch

Addressed to Celestia Morningstar – Diarch of Equestria
Priority Mail

Celly,

Hey again. It’s me. I know I haven’t gotten a letter to you for a while now, and I’d like to apologise for that. I’m afraid I’ve been busy with First Minister duties for a good chunk of time over here… something I still haven’t forgiven you for, don’tcha know. I know I was perfectly content reading crappy adventure novels from the far-flung reaches of Equestria before my life became one!

Anyway. Things are still going tough over here. Rationing is tough, overcrowding is tough, running around trying to fix all the little, and not-so-little, issues we have here is tough… I’ve spent more than a few days working the fields myself, before I just plain ran out of steam for it. Had to resort to getting some other ponies doing it for me. I got Construct to finally set up some kind of foraging program around here, since I figured the forest would have at least something for us poor sods to eat…

Oh, and as for housing… well, we’ve had to bunch up a little bit, so to speak. I had a couple ponies of my own sleeping the night in my kitchen and hallway – although Construct did put her ~~foot~~ hoof down and get them out as soon as she could. Here’s hoping our brand-new commieblocks are a temporary solution; the aesthetic just doesn’t work with wood.

I’m sure you aren’t too interested in the minutiae of the Free State’s goings-on, though; you’ve got all of Equestria to manage yourself, after all, which is, of course, so much larger in scope than my own piddly nation. No doubt I must sound like a whiny teenager, pissing and moaning that things aren’t going my way, and that therefore the entirety of the universe must somehow be rigged against me in some sort of cosmic comedy

I’m rambling again, aren’t I? I really should compare notes with that student of yours someday; I suspect we might have much to talk about, once I get over my crippling lack of free time. ~~And not just because I considered myself something of a scholar at some point, earlier in my life~~ Please, please, please don’t let her see what I’ve just written here…

Anyway, I’m sure you must be a very busy ruler, and I’d hate to take your precious time away from the whole ‘running an entire civilisation’ thing you’ve got going on over there… besides, have you finally gotten around to re-opening that favoured pastry-shop of yours, just off Commiseration Ave. two blocks down? I seem to recall you ranting and raving about the egg-custard buns from that place… why haven’t you done anything about that yet?

~~Oh damn it, now you’ve got me hankering for some amazing egg-custard tarts again, Celly. Thanks so much.~~

I’d better leave you to your work, before you get overtaken by a hankering of pastries again. I think we both know how you get, after all… (Seriously. Don’t skimp your duties just to invite me to your favourite place again. You know how cranky your people get when you do that. ~~Although, I wouldn’t exactly complain, if you were, hypothetically, to do that…~~)

Yours,

Adam Inns,
First Minister of the Free State of the White Tail Woods,
your friend

To Lieutenant Hothoof,

Congratulations on your well-deserved promotion! I never had any doubt in your capabilities to see it through to the end. I know that the usual process for selecting COs these days is pretty rough on ponies like you and me, and that exercise must certainly have tried your patience at points, but I’m glad to see you’ve persevered through regardless! Here’s hoping you get assigned to us, here, so we can whip these sorry mudflingers back into shape again!

Don’t forget that you make more than me now, Hothoof! You’re picking up the tab at any bar we both find ourselves in now, yeah? I promise to try not to drink Equestria dry on your expense… how about starting off with just Vanhoover, first?

Sergeant Treated Polearm

For PIDC Eyes Only / Confidential

Addressed to the Chancellor of the Office of Public Information Dissemination and Control,

CP: ‘Colorless purple ideas grieve ingloriously.’

Response negative for Operation Peeping Tom.
Addendum Alpha: Operatives placed in AoI: Free State are at risk of termination, as confirmed by First Minister. Possibility of Class-Brook incident. Proceed with extended caution.
Addendum Beta: First Minister is a confirmed anti-thaumaturgical entity. Intensity unknown, assumed moderate. Extreme caution is advised during close-mission encounters involving Invariable assets.

Additional note: resident of Free State confirmed to share physical/psychological characteristics of PoI: Plucked (including coat color, mane color, cutie mark, behavioral patterns (theoretical)). PoI likely in a close relationship with First Minister. Strong personal response as a result of re-acquisition of PoI is unlikely – relationship is observed to be one-sided (PoI-to-actor). Addendum Alpha must be considered during PoI extraction regardless of threat/observation level; First Minister was observed to be unusually protective of PoIs/actors deemed under its protection.

Count Gilded Hoof
Court’s Eye
Count Hoof of the Manehattan 2nd Industrial Zone, MSE, EQEI

21. Deeper Waters I – Making a Home a Rome

As it turned out, running a country by yourself was actually really hard. I didn’t think that was a lesson people really had to learn, given that it was a pretty obvious consequence of so many people rubbing together in one place, but there you go. With the Free State out of crisis for the moment, and with some hard lessons learned and reinforced, I figured that now was as good a time as ever to finally start moving forward with the whole point of me having gotten to this position in the first place – nation-building.

I was sat at my desk in my study, shuffling the notes I’d doodled five, six months ago about the topic, together with some much more recent ones that were more illuminating and more scathing. I’d asked Construct – who I was quite amused to learn was only supposed to replace me if I was unavailable, according to an earlier diagram made during less enlightened times – to fetch a few ponies to me, so that I could start getting a clue about how I was supposed to do this.

The more I thought about it, the more I realised that I knew distressingly little about what was happening in the Free State. Information was just not coming to me; as First Minister, that was a big fucking problem. I shouldn’t have had to go door-to-door to find out basic information like the disposition of my citizens; that needed to make its way to me as soon as possible, so I could spend time actually doing things. Fixing things, if needed. And yet, I had never actually asked anyone to do that for me.

In addition, with over a thousand people now calling this place their home, and more arriving every day – who also were all of practically every conceivable kind of different backgrounds – I could no longer afford to think of the Free State as a mere commune, where I was the village elder; I needed actual, legitimate authority to start making things happen... or, at the very least, I could fake it 'til I made it. And, of course, the fact that I'd be able to lessen some of the burden on my shoulders by doing so would be a very welcome addition.

To put it simply, I had a truly monstrous to-do list in front of me.

The door creaked open. I turned in my chair to see Blueblood nosing his way in, relaxing considerably once he saw me, walking in with much more confidence. Construct followed him in, professional as ever.

“First Minister,” greeted Blueblood.

“Ambassador. Thank you for coming.”

Seeing no other pony coming in after Construct, I turned to her with a quizzical look. “She said she had some things to take care of first,” said Construct. “She should be here soon.”

“Who?” asked Blueblood.

“Someone who sees things differently to you,” I replied cryptically, to which Blueblood snorted in frustration. “Anyway. Yes, I’ve called you in here this afternoon to discuss our plans going forward. The whole sordid business of a few weeks ago was, if nothing else, incredibly eye-opening in regards to our – sorry, my shortcomings. That cannot be allowed to happen again.” It was a pretty lukewarm takeaway, but the two ponies still nodded along.

“I won’t go over the specifics of what happened and how it could have been prevented; I’m still working on that inquiry. To sum it up, I acted under inaccurate information and false assumptions; I did not provide nor receive any indication that this was a situation that needed to change; and I did not delineate formal authority to provide ponies the ability to inform me of their situation, nor to gather accurate information about said situation. Those are the most important, and the most relevant, lessons to what I am about to say here. As of today, I will no longer allow myself, or any other being, to make those same mistakes.”

“What do you mean? How do you intend to meet this…” Blueblood waved a hoof in the air. “This incredibly vague set of goals?”

“No man rules alone,” I replied. “I’ll spare you the long-winded speech, I don’t want to spend the whole day talking in here. What I need is an effective government structure that I can delegate to, so I no longer have to oversee every single decision personally – I believe you already know how that turned out. I need competent ponies in charge of my ministries, who can take care of matters they have expertise with on my behalf, and who can inform me promptly of issues suddenly coming up that need direct oversight. Construct, here, was my first step in doing that.”

“How so?” came the follow-up.

“Second Minister,” was all I was going to say. Hmm… probably not a great idea to talk all secret-like at a time like this. “Ahem. What I mean to say is that… I was fortunate enough to be able to poach Construct from her position in Equestria. I believe she has the competency and the knowledge to excel in her new position. It’s… actually not that big a leap from what she was doing beforehand, now that I think of it. Just co-ordinating with me much closer, and more frequently.

“Anyway, I digress. I have… oh gosh, ten different things to get through today.” I grimaced, staring down at the list in my hands with undisguised revulsion – particularly the very first item on it. “Right, the sooner we get through this, the sooner we can start doing work. First off – food. Construct, how are we doing in regards to our food security?”

“The harvest is still proceeding,” she reported. “About eighty-five percent of our total sown farm area has been harvested and stored so far, totalling enough production to feed, I’d estimate just under two thousand ponies.”

Ding ding – what? “I’m sorry?” I interrupted. “Two thousand? How can we have so much? I was under the impression we were dangerously close to our carrying capacity. Don’t tell me you and your employees spent two months doing nothing but ploughing more fields?”

“Not just us,” said Construct. “Considerable fractions of the populace asked to assist us. Even during the starvation period, though to a vastly lesser extent. Not all of it was done in time for planting, however. Our next harvest I’d say could feed as many as three thousand and six hundred.”

“…Christ,” I breathed. “That’s… a pleasant surprise and a half. Do… we have enough space to store all that produce?”

“We should do. Much of it is non-perishable. If we need more space, I can have additional pantries set up reasonably quickly.”

“Perhaps a silo would be best,” I noted. “We probably ought to turn our crop ‘fields’ into an actual, organised farm complex. Maybe some facilities to make more luxury foodstuffs. Hmm… might do well to purchase some livestock. Remind me to look into that later, Construct.”

“…Will do. Don’t forget we’ll need your help in planting again, First Minister.”

I resisted the urge to slap myself in the face. Right, the crops did need considerable effort to grow here. I was going to need to reserve some time to lay hands on as much of the harvest as I possibly could. The part we were going to sow back onto the fields, at least. Although, now that I thought about it…

“Actually, we might well not do.” Blueblood, who I noted was looking increasingly terminally bored, snapped back into the realm of the awake, training his gaze on me with rather sharp focus. “Since… remind me, how did that theory about our crops go?”

“You drain the magic from the crops that you touch physically, which means they no longer require a magic intake from the ambient field and can grow anywhere the soil itself permits,” said Construct.

I nodded. “Uh-huh… so, when I touch them, they don’t suck magic in any more. So doesn’t that mean that… when they’re harvested, they also still don’t have any magic in them? Couldn’t we just plant them straight back in again? And that’d be fine?”

The ensuing silence told me that hadn’t occurred to them yet. Blueblood in particular was doing a fantastic impression of a hungry shark. “I mean, it makes sense to me,” I continued. “But then again, I’m not too knowledgeable on magic. Besides, we can’t take a gamble on literally our entire food supply like that. I’ll allow an experiment to check, but for the time being we’ll do it the way that’s been proven to work.” I gestured vaguely at my Second Minister. “I’ll let you come up with the specifics. If that works out…”

I didn’t finish my sentence. There were too many ways to choose from for that. After a short, stunned silence, Construct nodded, blinking her shock away. “I’ll get it done, First Minister.”

“Good, good.” Nothing more leapt up at me, yet, so I decided to move on. “Next up… ah, yes. I have an awful lot of responsibilities I don’t need to oversee personally, and can delegate away – and the Free State continues to lack an actual, formal, official governmental structure. Besides whatever I say happening, I suppose. I’d like to start setting up actual executive positions so I don’t have to mastermind every single decision by myself.”

I looked down, shuffling the sheaf of papers in my hand – the list of positions had mysteriously disappeared. I had to wade through quite a few of my less-than-relevant notes on my desk before I found it again. “Ah, right, here we are. I… oh Christ.”

The first hurdle of this point smacked itself in my face, loud and clear; there were thirteen different positions that I’d marked as ‘bare-minimum essentials’ – Construct filled one, as Second Minister, and I of course took First Minister. Eleven were left – and I had maybe two candidates to choose from. One was Lyra, who… I doubted could fill any of them effectively. The other was… a unicorn stallion whose name escaped me, who I’d earmarked for his cutie mark being related to paperwork. I similarly doubted his capacities for serious leadership. Probably he’d end up being a secretary or something.

“First Minister?” asked Blueblood.

“There’s… a lot of names I need.” I sighed, looking back up at my two guests. “Alright. Blueblood, Construct, I have a cabinet structure… more or less ready. All I need is people to staff it. I need, at the very least, a minister for Domestic Affairs, and the secretaries for Agriculture and Immigration & Citizenship under them. Everything else we can hold off on for a short while, but I need somepony watching the most important goings-on of the Free State.”

“Who do you propose to fill those positions?”

“Exactly,” I replied. “I haven’t a monkey’s. I have three names to choose from – Construct’s already Second Minister, Lyra has absolutely no experience in any relevant field, and you, Blueblood, are foreign royalty. I’m not going to import Equestrian leadership to run the Free State, but at the same time I’d rather not have to go rummaging through the fucking bins trying to find cabinet members. I’ll need one of you to go asking around for any pony with even tangential experience. Preferably you, Construct, but I know I’ve already put a lot of work on you.”

“It’s no matter, First Minister,” said Construct, bowing her head. “I can get it done.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “Christ… a real workaholic, are ya?” Then, I snapped my fingers – in my own way, since I didn’t know how to do it properly; it made a much more subdued fwap and unfolded into a fingergun – as I recalled precisely who my Second Minister used to be. “Oh, right, I totally forgot: what’s going to happen with the rest of your crew, Construct? They’re going back to Equestria, right?”

“That’s right,” she confirmed. “Once Shuffle sees the original plan through to the end, they’ll pack up and head back.” Darn. Could have poached some of them, too.

“They’re still working?” asked Blueblood. “I would have thought they would have done everything their plan called for, with a thousand extra sets of hooves with nothing better to do assisting them.”

“They’re still busy training some local pegasi in basic weather manipulation. That’s going to take at least a few more weeks.”

Blueblood and I both nodded. “I hope you got them to train some of the locals in other basic industries before they left,” I remarked. “That sawmill is going to be our meal ticket to the rest of the world.” I shook my head. “But I digress again. Right, uh… yes, get that done, Construct. I’ll hand you the full list in case you find a useful pony for something we’ll need later on.”

“Yes, First Minister.”

Good, good. I flipped a page to my next point. “Right. Speaking of the sawmill, what about the Free State’s industry? Our agriculture is still… mostly a subsistence affair, and we don’t have anything besides my old still for our secondary sector. Can we do anything with the massive forest the vast majority of our nation consists of?”

“Much of our sawmill’s production thus far has gone to constructing housing for the residents,” said Construct. “With the settlement’s growth as rapid as it has been, we’ve had very little opportunity for anything else, or to collect surplus material. I’d suggest raising another sawmill, or perhaps a paper mill, but we would need to import the metals and machinery since we don’t produce any locally. And, well…”

“As Second Minister, you no longer have a connection to Equestrian industry,” I finished, “so we’d need to front the cost ourselves. Which we can’t, since we’re broke.”

“…That about sums it up,” said Construct, utterly unnecessarily.

Right. We are, indeed, dirt poor, aren’t we? I had, after all, spent my entire savings back in July for Construct to go to Manehattan, four months ago. The Free State’s coffers were empty – except, I supposed, for my booze, which I could theoretically pawn off to Las Pegasus or Detrot or somewhere.

“…Mmm. Right. I suppose… artisans would be our best bet, then. For now.”

“Artisans?” parroted both ponies.

“Yeah. Ponies like… Hooves, I guess. He’s a woodcarver, turns planks into busts of Napoleon or whatever. Private citizens, I mean, turning raw resources into manufactured goods privately. I’m… not quite sure how we could harness that for the Free State, short of forcing them to work for my benefit at gunpoint.” I grimaced. “Bleh. I… I suppose we could also just sell on some of our produce, since we’ve got such a surplus, but… I’m sure you understand why I might be wary of such a move.”

“Indeed,” said Blueblood, just a touch flatly. Construct nodded her agreement.

“Well, I suppose we can leave that for later. Let the citizens start their own private ventures.”

…

...Oh goddamn it. I facepalmed. “Right. Yes. Let them do that, and tax them. Brilliant idea, Inns. It’s almost as if that’s what literally every single government in history has done.”

“So long as you don’t go overboard,” reminded Construct, amused.

“Mmm,” I hummed from behind my palm. “Yeah. I know. I’m not gonna introduce a fifty-percent income tax, don’t you worry. Speaking of which.” I disengaged hand from face, and shuffled my papers in my other hand, checking I hadn’t gotten lost in my point somewhere along the way. “Yes. The economy. We… do need one of those, don’t we.”

“Ye-”

“Rhetorical question, Blueblood, don’t be an idiot.” I shot him a glare. “Because right now, we’re working off of the ‘we need to do this or else we all die’ model, which I daresay is going to become obsolete pretty soon. No pony in the Free State has a salary at the moment besides food and housing, and I don’t want First Minister to be a feudal position, or a warlord’s title. We don’t have a mint, or a treasury, and I’m not so sure the idea of imagining a currency into place for the Free State would go over well.”

“Imagine?” asked Blueblood, frowning.

“Free State bucks,” I replied glibly. “Long and short of it is that it’s pointless. We need bits. I’m happy to work for free, and… so is Construct, for now, but at some point civil servants do expect fat salaries, beyond turnips and vodka like it’s the fucking nineties. Not to mention the workforce itself… oh,” I waved a hand in the air. “I think you get what I mean.”

“What are your plans for that?” asked Construct.

“Pfft. Get a Treasury minister to do it for me. I’m not an economist.”

“You should be,” said Blueblood, disapprovingly. “A nation’s economy is an integral part of its success or failure. You cannot neglect it and expect positive resul-”

“I don’t expect my knowledge on fiscal policy to be entirely relevant until we actually get a fucking economy going, Ambassador,” I retorted. “Besides, it’s not the Princess’ job to make decisions for her cabinet members over in Equestria, why should it be mine here? So long as someone knows what they’re doing when they do the job, that’s fine by me. If I have to take over as interim Treasury minister, then I’ll start debating the merits of state capitalism versus laissez-faire, yeah?”

“…As you wish, First Minister,” he relented. I shook my head, and continued.

“Anyway. What’s next… ah, yes, the weather. Construct’s already said her workers are training some of our pegasi in weather management. That’ll be ready in a few weeks, is that right?”

“That’s correct,” confirmed Construct.

“Mmm. Good, that’s good. Next, we h-”

“Wait,” Blueblood cut in, confused. “That’s it? Are you not going to set up weather factories?”

“…Do I have to?” I asked – which only befuddled him even further.

“Whuh… I-I…”

“The First Minister is familiar with uncontrolled weather patterns,” Construct explained to him. “I believe he sees it as enough that the worst circumstances, like thunderstorms, heatwaves and cold snaps, and so on, are avoided.”

“Got it in one,” I confirmed. “No point wasting time, money and workers on something that can just as well do itself. One hundred percent accurate weather schedule’s not worth spending four hundred sixty million a year, Blueblood. Certainly not for such a small state. I’ll be just fine with nothing that harms my people – and irrigates the farmland if it needs it.”

“…I suppose you have a point there,” he conceded. “My Equestrian bias has gotten the best of me on a few occasions.”

“Mmm. Anyway. Christ Almighty, we’re only halfway through the list…”

A disgruntled noise came out of Blueblood, who slumped in place. “Must I really be here for this entire time? I have Court matters to attend to outside of my ambassadorial duties, if I may remind you, First Minister.”

I glared at him. As a matter of fact, Construct herself didn’t look too pleased, either – a sure sign I was rubbing off on her already. “Yes, Ambassador. I’m well aware of your passion for fucking off on Equestrian business for weeks at a fucking time. Quite frankly I’m not sure how you can reconcile your duties in that fashion; I would be glad and happy to send you back to Celestia and get a replacement ambassador that takes his fucking work seriously, were you not a part of my inner circle and also the one pony with the most experience in statecraft in the entire Free State. So simmer the fuck down, Blueballs.”

…

“Anyway,” I continued after a beat. “Next up is our foreign affairs. Ambassador, what can you tell us about what the world thinks of the Free State?”

There was a long, frosty moment of silence before Blueblood spoke. “…I’m sure you are already aware of what the Office of the Celestial Diarchy thinks of you, First Minister. Much of the remainder of Equestrian nobility, however, remains wary of the Free State, believing it to be an upset of the previous status-quo. I have yet to hear of any titled noble make inroads into the State, except of course for Lady Upper Crust – and perhaps myself.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“…Popular opinion of the Free State, however, is generally quite favourable, particularly with the more progressive sections of Equestria. You might have heard of the devolutionaries making gains recently; they have good things to say about you.”

“Any other nation?” I asked. “The griffons? Minotaurs? Anyone else taking an interest in us?”

“Not to my knowledge, no,” said Blueblood. “I haven’t heard anything on that matter.”

“Mmm. Right.” That was about what I was expecting, really. The Free State was (almost) entirely composed of ponies, after all, and was also circled entirely by Equestria. “Guess that’s enough of that, then. Uh… ah, right. I suppose you may go now, Ambassador; I don’t believe we’ll need you for the remaining points.”

“Thank you, First Minister.” At once, Blueblood was in motion, the door opening ahead and him disappearing through it -

“Ough! Ah, my apologies, madam.”

The door stayed opened behind him, allowing Construct and I to hear Blueblood bumping into another pony on his way out, who soon entered to replace him. A brightly-coloured pegasus mare entered, looking conflicted as to whether to seem relieved or concerned about what had just occurred.

“Ah, Night Gown,” I greeted. “Glad you could make it. You’re a little bit early, but you can sit in if you want.”

“Yes, thank you,” said Night Gown, taking Blueblood’s open seat on the floor. Construct looked between me and her, trying to puzzle out the connection.

“I’ll tell you in a minute, Second Minister,” I told her. “Now. Next topic is… our infrastructure. Our water’s all connected, right? Heating, cooling, all that quality-of-life stuff?”

“Yes, First Minister,” said Construct.

“Good. Roads, rail, air travel? Do we have anything I need to know about on that front?”

“Not yet, I don’t think,” she said. “This is still the only settlement in the Free State. That I know of, at least.” Night Gown shuffled in place, apparently trying to get comfortable.

“Mmm. That’s a shame. I was thinking… perhaps setting up a rail connection between the Free State and Equestria. You know, a more direct one. Make trade a little bit simpler, cheaper. Transportation, too.”

“With respect, First Minister,” said Construct, “I don’t believe that’s a decision you can make without Equestrian approval.”

“I know that, Construct,” I broke in. “Just hypothesising. I doubt my citizens would be terribly happy about it, either. We can stick that in the back of the drawer somewhere. So to speak.”

“Um,” ummed Night Gown, raising a hoof in the air awkwardly. “Should… I really be here for this? First Minister?”

“Don’t worry, I already covered everything sensitive before you arrived,” I told her. “But yes, I do apologise for wasting your time. I suppose I can simply skip to the relevant section for you.” Then, I turned to Construct, getting up and off of my chair for the first time in… surprisingly not long. “Second Minister Construct. As a part of Free State leadership, as well as the second of authority should anything unforeseen happen to me, you need to know about this. What I am about to tell you I consider a state secret – do not go spreading this information around. You might well get ponies killed, and will damage the security and foreign relations of the Free State, by doing so. Do you understand?”

The suddenness of the deadly-serious proclamation seemed to take both ponies off-guard, with Construct physically leaning back in surprise. Eventually, though, after sparing one last glance at Night Gown, she nodded firmly. “Yes, First Minister.”

I gestured towards Night Gown. “That ‘pegasus’ there is Dame Night Gown. She is a metallurgist by talent and a thestral by species. Her org-”

“Thestral?” It was a subtle thing, but Construct did tense up at the name, inching down closer to the floor by millimetres, as if poised for a fight. “She’s a batpony?”

“Second Minister,” I barked, forcing her attention back to me. “Control yourself. Yes, Night Gown is a thestral. May I continue?” A sheepish nod was my answer, at which I softened. “As I was saying, I… I took pity on their situation, if not their cause. If you see what I mean. Yes, Dame Night Gown is of the Lunar Corps, which has professed its desire to topple the Equestrian government, which I do not agree with. That does not, however, mean that I am fine with all thestrals being sentenced to the fucking death penalty for showing themselves in Equestria. And neither should you,” I added, as if she couldn’t derive that conclusion herself – judging by her sidelong glances, she might well not have.

“…She doesn’t look like a thestral,” Construct finally decided on. At once, Night Gown and I rolled our eyes.

“Well, duh,” I said. “What would you have done if she walked in here without her disguise?”

“Disguise?”

I rolled my eyes again. “Just… just show her, Gown. Get this over with.”

Night Gown looked between the two of us, nervously, just the same as she did the first time I’d asked her to reveal herself. I looked on with considerably more kindness than Construct did, I noted, who looked more like she was about twenty seconds from cussing both of us out.

Nevertheless, after a short while of indecision, off went the pegasus image, replaced by the thestral mare I could only look at directly for a few seconds before I had to avert my gaze to stop it from… roaming. I chose to look Construct in the eye.

“Convinced now?” I asked her. Construct did not meet my eyes, opting instead to continue to stare down the thestral, who began to fidget under her scrutiny. She nodded slowly, eyes narrowing.

“…What is she doing here?”

“Second Minister.” This time, my voice was much colder. Construct snapped her gaze back to me at once, ears folding against her head. “Calm yourself. This is not Equestria. This thestral has done nothing to cause harm to the Free State or any of its people. You will not treat her like a second-class citizen. Do I make myself clear?”

“Perfectly, First Minister,” came the contrite reply.

“Good.” I turned back to Night Gown, and tried my damnedest to keep my eyes on hers as I spoke. “Now. I called you in here for a reason beyond just this. It’s been a few months since I last heard anything from the thestrals. How many of you are there, exactly, in the Free State? How many of my pegasi are actually thestrals?”

“I can assure you, we don’t mean the Free State any harm,” she began, to my consternation. That wasn’t the question I was trying to ask. “We have sent no legionary to your soil, and will not ever do so.”

“Civilians?” I tried.

That seemed to do the trick. “Oh, ah… yes. A few of our… wearier ponies have settled in your territory. I hope that will not be a problem?”

“On the contrary,” I assured her. “That’s precisely what I like to hear. I, ah… would like to know, though, who they might be, and how many there actually are. For… obvious reasons, I should hope.”

...Oh, that’s supposed to be a spear. Really, Adam? A stick?

“…That’s perfectly understandable. I can get a list of their names and disguises to you, if need be.”

“I would appreciate that.”

An awkward silence ensued. Night Gown was looking at me – now quite puzzled – no, wait, now she had put on a little devious smirk. I, on the other hand, was still-

Erk.

…admiring her cutie mark. Which was…

Night Gown turning her body to the side to show her mark head-on proved it. I’d just been caught in the act. Oh, shit…

“Would you like a closer look, First Minister?” she crooned, with eyes half-lidded and tail starting to swish. I instantly turned my head away to the wall, feeling my ears starting to burn.

“N-no thank you,” I stammered out. “I’d… rather not…”

“Can we get back on track, First Minister, Dame Gown?” asked a rather exasperated Construct, thankfully giving me something else to focus on.

“Yes, thank you, Second Minister,” I said quickly, pointedly continuing to stare at the wall. “An excellent suggestion. I, ah… yes. Right. Uh…”

Clearly, this was not going to get me anywhere. I screwed my eyes shut, my fingers coming up to rub at them, and sighed heavily. “Mmm. I do have a question, actually. I’ll admit that taking tours of my own country has been a little bit low on my priority list, but I can’t seem to recall bumping into any thestrals during my time here. Even though you said you had allowed a few to settle here. Do you… still fear for your lives, even here?”

A moment of silence ensued. I turned my head back and freed my eyes, to see Gown had stopped in her tracks, looking up at me in shock. Construct tilted her head at me. “I mean… never mind, that’s a pretty silly thing to ask, isn’t it? Since every other citizen here used to be Equestrian. They’d probably have you… yeah. That’s no good,” I decided. “I want a thestral in my cabinet.”

“What?” exclaimed Construct immediately. “You cannot be serious! The Lu-”

“The Lunar Corps is not an organisation the Free State will ever aid and abet, Second Minister, Dame Gown,” I interrupted. “I have no intention of going to war with Equestria. What I want to do is start breaking down this stigma that the thestrals have had imposed upon them. No species should be oppressed like that for a thousand years.”

“That stigma is there for a very good-”

I knew where that sentence was going – nowhere good. “Second Minister Construct!” I snapped. “I want you to consider your next words very carefully. Because if you say what I thought you were about to say, then I will have to respectfully ask you to leave. I don't care if you protest her membership of the Lunar Corps, but you will not demean her simply because she happened to be born as a particular tribe.”

…

This time, Construct was less deterred by my icy look. “…With respect, First Minister, I must protest your course of action. Placing a thestral in charge of any substantial amount of your government would, at best, cause immense strife within the Free State. At worst, it might spark a war with Equestria anyway.”

“Not if they rescind their allegiance to their cause first,” I retorted.

“That won’t matter to Equestria,” she replied evenly. “If they'll even know that - or care. To them, you’d be signalling your acceptance of their goals, and incredibly provocatively at that.”

…Damn. That was right, wasn’t it? “…Mmm,” I eventually hummed, non-committally. “You do have a point. Bugger. Trust the Equestrian nobility to be too stupid to make that leap of logic. We’ll have to go about it… less drastically, then.”

“How do you mean?” asked Construct.

“…Later,” I finally decided. That had been my one and only idea for how to tackle the thestral issue, and it'd just been shot down. “I’ll need to think on it. Dame Gown, I… I suppose you are free to go.”

“Thank you kindly, First Minister,” said Gown – who I noticed just a little too late was still undisguised. Erk.

“Right! Moving on,” I said speedily, trying to control my own damn self, pointedly not staring anywhere near her as she turned and made her way out. “Uh… yes, healthcare. How are we doing on that so far?”

“…I’m afraid I don’t know, First Minister,” said Construct, a little guiltily. “I haven’t visited the clinic recently. I can get that done after-”

“No, no, don’t strain yourself,” I placated. “I’ll check it out this evening. Just… gut feeling? One clinic with one doctor good enough for now? For all… God, one thousand two hundred now, right? I hope we’re not running out of cough medicine.”

“Perhaps an apprenticeship program might be a good idea,” said Construct – to which I gave a low, impressed whistle.

“Damn. That actually is a good idea. Oh, what am I saying?” I touched my palm to my forehead in a ‘doi’ gesture. “Of course it is. You gave it to me five months ago, when you gave me your first report. That was always going to be the plan, right?”

“Ah… yes, First Minister,” she said, with ears folded back. I raised an eyebrow – Construct apparently having forgotten that little tidbit – but pressed on regardless.

“Mmm. You’ve already done… similar things with our citizens before, what with the farming and house-building we’ve all had to do. I’ll talk to Sawbones about it when I meet him.” I nodded firmly to myself. “Now. Ah… Christ, finally the last point. The citizenry.”

“…Yes?” asked Construct. “What about them?”

“General poll – how are they feeling? Fine? Happy with us? Hungry? Out for our blood? That kind of thing.”

Construct had to think on that one for a while, apparently, judging by her intense blinking. “…I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’ve not had much time for small talk.”

“Understandable,” I said. “It’s not really a big priority. I can just take a walk and accost my citizens with questions if need be. Just to get a sense of how they’re feeling. Maybe if there’s something come up that I need to deal with. Anyway… and what have they been doing? Anything specific that I might need to know?”

“No, First Minister,” she replied. “Our labour brigades are set up again, and busy with constructing more housing.”

“Mmm,” I nodded. “Incidentally, how are we on that front?”

“We’re just about to break even. We have enough housing for one thousand and fifty – a few more days will have everypony in their bedrooms properly.”

“Excellent news,” I said, smiling in approval. “Okay, once they’re done, I want you to size the construction brigade down to about… seventy, eighty, I want to say. Keep the most competent, and anyone who has it as their talent. Every other pony can go off and start doing their own things. Well,” I amended thoughtfully. “Until the harvest comes ‘round again.” I chuckle wryly. “We can make that a festival.”

“I’ll note that down, First Minister,” said Construct.

“Right.” Reflexively, I looked down at the sheaf in my hand, only to realise I’d already exhausted it. “Oh! We’re through. I suppose. Uh…” I frowned. “I’m not forgetting anything, am I? There’s… Construct, am I forgetting anything?”

Construct frowned also. “I don’t believe so, Adam. Unless… what about the foals?”

“What about them?”

“Education?”

“Oh fuck me.” I facepalmed, quite strongly. It was almost more slapping myself in the face. “Right. Yeah. We do have foals in the Free State, yes, and they do need teaching, yes. Good going, Inns. Guess I ought to thank you, Construct, for pulling my head out my arse. Yes… we’ll have to go find someone who knows how to deal with children, and how to teach them. Probably a schoolhouse might be a good idea to start building. Which reminds me,” I faux-snapped my fingers again, pointing them at Construct. “I’ll also need a name for secretary for Education too. Eventually, I mean. I think we can get away with teacher’s discretion for the time being.”

“As you wish, Adam.”

“Okay, okay.” I nodded, rubbing some fatigue from my eyes, and slumped back into my seat. “Second Minister, you are free to go. Come back to me when you have something to report. Preferably good news, but… I won’t hold my breath. Thank you.”

Construct twitched her head upwards, her eyes narrowing briefly, before she eventually nodded in return and turned to leave.

The door shut behind her, leaving me alone in my office for the first time in… Jesus, an hour? Holy cow, it felt so much longer… I turned to my desk, which was still a bloody mess and a half, and began taking the gist of what had just been discussed.

In short, we had a lot to do, and I could do little of it single-handedly. Our food situation was no longer so dire, but I could not make the same mistake I did the first time – rationing was still going to be in effect until I knew, definitively, that our food was going to last to our next harvest no matter what – be it from another sudden influx of ponies, or blight, or rats, or us needing to trade large chunks of our stocks away for fucking machine parts. Regardless, with our farms doing okay, a large chunk of my overhead disappeared – I still had an appointment with a few sacks of grain and whatnot, but I could get that done pretty quickly.

My cabinet was going to be stuffed to the brim with inexperienced ponies. That… I figured was more-or-less unavoidable, unless I wanted Blueblood running Foreign Affairs and Night Gown running Defense. Barring competent ponies running to the Free State for some reason or another asking for work, I was going to need to keep a close eye on my subordinates – at least until they learned enough for me to not need to coddle them so much. Most likely Construct was going to get a lot of the tard-wrangling duty.

…Which, of course, meant that I was also going to have to select their subordinates, too – the ponies who would actually go out and do the boots-on-the-ground work, like inspecting the farms, building the houses, etc. etc. Those, at least, would need relatively little training – just doing what they were already doing, except also reporting their progress to the secretaries every now and then. Those secretaries were going to be damn busy ponies, I reckoned – and began fiercely regretting giving Construct Second Minister, instead of Domestic Affairs. Because that would have been the sensible thing to do… but then I’d only have Blueblood to talk sense into me.

Anyway. The paper with the list of issues went away in a drawer, to be replaced with a… slightly more personal list. I’d written down some guidelines for how to deal with situations, taught to me by good old experience.

Consult with people with different viewpoints / expertise to you.

Consider any alternatives to a course of action.

Consider the consequences of committing to a course of action.

Plan ahead.

Expect unforeseen consequences of your actions.

Don't assume problems are 'definitively' solved by solutions.

Don’t assume solutions won’t cause more problems later.

Don’t forget the wider context of the problem you are trying to solve.

It was a good reminder; very educational. So were the four names written at the bottom of the sheet.

I sighed heavily, shaking my head as I pushed the paper away from me. I had nothing left to do in here – not by myself. Brainstorming a whole administration was no longer a one-man job – I was going to need more than myself to draft an entire constitution. That was going to be a job for my next cabinet meeting - one with more than three participants, with any luck.

22. Deeper Waters II – Plans and Preparations

I indulged myself for precisely one evening. It had been a long day of dealing with paperwork, brainstorming, fending off Blueblood, and so on, and I was just not feeling up to continuing. For a little while, at least. Instead, I was lying on my couch, nose-deep in a book I’d read thirty times – some ‘Around the World in Eighty Days’ knock-off, except instead of a hot-air balloon, the pegasus just flew it all herself. It was actually pretty good, even if the prose was a little simplistic.

Not for the first time, I missed an actual, honest-to-goodness wood-fired hearth. Reading a book in a November evening was just not the same without the crackle of wood in a fireplace, but of course I couldn’t dare make one, lest I risked burning my entire house down. So, magic gem it was. Instead, I had cracked open a window just a tiny bit, to chill the room just enough to warrant snuggling under a blanket. Better than nothing.

Of course, the magic of the moment was lost somewhat, now that I was living in an actual settlement, and not dozens of kilometres away from one. Peeking out of the windows for a moment showed me far too many near-identical wooden cabins for comfort; the indoors aesthetic clashed rather wildly with the outdoors sprawl, rustic as it may have been.

I shook my head clear of those musings, ready to return back to my book, when I heard the front door creak open. “Hello?” I called, peering above my book at the archway to the kitchen.

“It’s me,” called Lyra’s voice. I made a small ‘ah’ noise, dropping my attention back to my book. Sure enough, soon a mint-green pony entered the living room, relaxing ever-so-slightly at seeing that I was here, and alone. She quickly trotted over and leapt up onto the couch onto me, hooking her forelegs over my stomach to lie down over me like an affectionate cat.

“You alright, Ly?” I asked absently, then, before she could offer a reply, a thought struck me that I had to vocalise. “Where have you been all day? I barely even saw you for breakfast this morning.”

“Foals wanted an excursion,” she explained. “Trying to find their marks, you know. They needed the supervision.”

I nodded in understanding. A pony getting their cutie mark was something of a big deal to them. Apparently there was some kind of serious psycho-socio-thaumaturgical explanation for it, but I was the wrong kind of egghead to wrap my head around that. All I understood was that it’d tell them what they’d be good at for the rest of their lives – certainly, I could have used something like that in secondary school.

Speaking of which… “Was that all they did for the day?” I asked. “I’d hate to insult, but… finding their talent in life is all well and good, but did you find some time to educate them properly too? As in…”

“Of course,” said Lyra, flicking her eyes over at me curiously. “Sunny Hooves volunteered to teach the basics in one of the warehouses. All the foals here go there, thrice a week.”

“Sunny Hooves?” I parroted. “No relation?” Lyra shook her head – to which I sighed an amused exhale. Course there’d be no relation. He’d have told me. Mustn’t be too many names to go around, for ponies. “Right. So we already have something set up there. Neat. Suppose that’s one thing I can cross off the list.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

I snorted. “Part of my job, Ly. Saves Construct the trouble of setting something up herself, if nothing else. You think I could get away without running some kind of education system here? Please. Even if I didn’t have foals, those who did wouldn’t be too pleased. Assuming they didn’t give up and start doing it themselves.”

“Oh,” said Lyra. “Yes. I… keep forgetting you are First Minister.”

“Thanks,” I drawled. “That means a lot to me.”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that.” Lyra’s attempt at a serious frown only made me roll my eyes. Still, I relented.

“Yeah, I know.”

A short silence descended as I got back to my book – though I didn’t get through even a paragraph before Lyra spoke up again. “…How is your work going, Adam?”

I blinked, turning to look on Lyra, briefly lost for words. “…Uh. I guess… alright? There’s still a lot to do, a lot for everyone to do. I mean, between the government, drawing up a constitution, figuring out an economy and giving everyone a job they’re happy with, keeping them alive and happy, and everything else I’ll have to do… I’ve kinda got my hands full, for the foreseeable future. Haven’t fucked anything major up yet, on that front at least.”

“Are you happy when you do it?”

I paused, considering the question. “…Not yet. I’ll be happy when I see it paying off. It’s… really boring. Me, Construct and sometimes Blueblood arguing over what to do next is… an experience and a half, believe you me.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

I smirked down at her. “I doubt it. Unless you’re secretly a bureaucratic mastermind, or you know how to get a room full of ponies who secretly hate each other and most everything they stand for to get along for longer than five spoken sentences, there’s little you could do. Short of offering moral support, or taking minutes down, or fetching coffee. Besides, me sticking you so high up the ladder might send the wrong message to ponies.”

“How so?” asked Lyra, giving me her best puppy eyes. “I’m sure I could handle whatever challenges you would put my way.”

…Damn it, Lyra. I can’t believe I’m seriously considering this. To be fair, I didn’t have much grounds to deny her on the basis of lacking competence; not just because of my own former deficiencies, but also because I had very little choice in my selection pool for positions in the first place. True, Lyra had little to offer in her CV, but then so did I, and most likely about ninety-eight percent of the rest of the Free State. Even Construct, to a lesser extent – she might have been competent, but she had never helped run a country before – or build one. Not like she was doing now, I mean.

Quite honestly, the Free State might well have been an excellent training ground for high-level political leadership. Since the State was still so titchy and new, the bureaucratic workload was massively smaller than even an equivalent Equestrian settlement, who had neighbours and higher-ups and traditions and the Canterlot taxman calling every other month, so to speak. Once the State began to expand properly – assuming it did, anyway – then they’d be settled into their position already, much more familiar with what their work entailed, with the only difference being that they’d be doing their jobs for their entire shifts, instead of only about half an hour followed by five hours of brainstorming setting up a nation-state from scratch like I was at the moment.

Not to mention… I snorted in amusement to myself. Even back home, people who had never touched an executive desk in their lives were elected to the highest offices in the land, and they ended up doing alright. Not that there weren’t scores of those who tried that and went down in flames, too, but… again, with the State being so small, the fallout would be much more limited. Besides, I or Construct or someone else in my cabinet could come deck them one to start their brains up again, if needed. So much for rooting around the bins, eh? If there’s one thing I learned from that Uzbekistani longbow craftsmanship forum...

Still, I had reservations. For one, Lyra was… I hesitated to say ‘close’ to me, but the fact of the matter was neither of us made much of a secret that we lived together. It would be easy to assume that I was merely engaged in nepotism if I were to give her a ministry, even a secretariat. That, I had already decided, was not going to have any place in the Free State – the sincerity of me asserting that to my people in some future founding speech was going to be tanked if Lyra was next to me up there as well as in my bed.

And for two… “I’m sure you could,” I finally said, “but… you know how much time my work takes up. You’d be stuck in that room, or office building soon, for quite a large chunk of the day. Who’d take up looking after our foals?”

“…Ah,” sighed Lyra, dropping her head down onto my leg. “Yes, you are quite right. Bowmound’s birthday is coming up soon, you know.”

“Yeah, I thoug-” I stopped, blinking stupidly. “…Birthday? What?”

Lyra threw me a smug smirk. “That’s right. He keeps talking about it to me. Twenty-ninth of November.”

That made me frown. “Twenty-ninth, huh? How come this is my first time hearing about this? He never said a word about it during breakfast.”

“…I’m not supposed to tell you this,” began Lyra, leaning in all conspiratorial-like, “but he said he wanted to surprise you with it. Like a reverse surprise party.”

“I… don’t think that’s how that works,” I remarked. “Huh. Well, suppose I’d better clear my schedule for it. Twenty-ninth… that’s three weeks, exactly. I’ll have to ask Blueblood for a favour. Turn the surprise around.” Now it was my turn to smirk.

“Huh? What do you mean by that?” I didn’t deign to reply, only widening my smirk to something a little more vicious and dropping my gaze back down to read. “Come on, Adam, don’t be like that! What are you planning now?”

“What?” I asked defensively. “Can’t a guy plan a surprise birthday party for his foals? Gimme a break, Ly. It’s gonna be great. Not even my kind of job is gonna get in the way of me making my kid’s day.”

…

…Huh. When did I start thinking of them as my foals?

My smirk dropped as I considered the question. When did that start happening? Had that really just… happened? Had the concept of fatherhood simply overgrown me, like a kudzu? Stockholm syndrome generally didn’t apply to parenthood, to my knowledge. Had I simply accepted my new role in life?

Still, the more I thought about it, the more I realised I didn’t really care so much. So what if I had two children to look after? That wasn’t going to change much – they’d been living with me for almost half a year by now, calling me their father for a little less. To my shock, I found myself nodding in satisfaction. Yeah. I can do that. I can do that just fine.

“Adam?” called Lyra, making me look up at her. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” I waved her off. “Yeah. Just… alright, fine, laugh it up, Lyra, you wore me down.” Fear not – my glower was playful, entirely unserious.

“Wore you down? What?”

“Fine. I suppose I shall have to throw a party for my little foal.” I rolled my eyes, hoping for her to catch the meaning in my usual petty round-about speech – which she did, eventually, letting out a little gasp and throwing herself into my torso, shoving my book out of the way to crush me in a hug.

“Yes!” she squealed. “I knew you had it in you, Adam!” I snorted into her mane, which was getting in my face something fierce, and gently stroked her back. “You’ll be a great parent, I promise!”

“Sure,” I said. “So long as you make sure I don’t spoil them too much.”

We shared a little quiet chuckle, as Lyra looked up and into my eyes, giving me a warm smile that I couldn’t help but return. The absurdity of the situation was something else, I tell you what, but I found I really couldn’t care so much either, about an alien wanting me to become a parent to two aliens along with her. Christ, and I thought my friends back on Earth were weird…

The sound of the front door opening once more broke the moment. As one, Lyra and I turned our attention to the archway – but it was a sound that reached us first. A little filly had entered my house… and was crying. That had better not be what I think that is, I thought as I all but leapt off the couch and stalked over to the front door, Lyra hot on my heels.

As a matter of fact, it was. “Daddy!” wailed Silent Wish, holding up her two forelegs for a hug, bawling her eyes out. The fur on her left leg, usually an earthy brown colour, had streaks of red dripping down it from a cut near the fetlock.

“Oh dear,” I said, reaching down for a closer look, and of course to scratch a little behind her ears to give her something else to focus on. “Where did you get this from? Were you snooping around somewhere you shouldn’t have done? Lyra, get my first aid kit – should be in one of the drawers in the living room.”

“Got it,” I heard her say behind me and scamper off.

“Hey, hey,” I whispered down to ‘my little foal,’ who I was relieved had at least stopped bawling so loudly, now just sniffling as tears ran down her cheeks. “You’ll be okay, Wish. Just a little scratch. It feels worse than it is, you’ll wake up tomorrow morning feeling just fine, I promise.” A little red bag floated over into my peripheral vision suspended in a mint-green cloud, which soon dropped into my outstretched hand. “Where, exactly, did you get that cut, dear?”

“I…” Sniffle. “I got it… I tripped on a rock in the forest… I’m sorry…”

I nodded. “Okay, Wish. You’re fine, I’m not mad, I promise. I’ll get this cut cleaned up in no time.” Soon, I had pulled out a little roll of gauze from the bag along with a little glass bottle with a faintly-glowing liquid within it. Apparently it was supposed to be a combination painkiller, disinfectant and healing accelerant, but of course it was mostly magic-based and thus I had little use for it myself. This time, though, I carefully uncorked it and poured a few drops onto the gauze to soak it in a little bit like it was iodine solution.

“Hold out your leg, please, Wish?” I asked, and she dutifully raised it up for me. I carefully wrapped the gauze around it, making doubly sure my fingers didn’t get anywhere near the wet spots. “Lyra, can you make this stick together somehow?” A green glow briefly covering the gauze made me pull back. I grabbed a cloth to dab away the remaining blood on Wish’s leg.

“…That should work,” said Lyra, stepping up next to me and nodding at both of us. “Feeling better now, honey?”

“...yeah,” said Wish quietly, looking up at me with shining eyes. Again, she reached out with both forelegs, but this time I obliged her, picking her up and cradling her in my arms. I absently stroked her mane with a hand, muttering quiet reassurances to her to calm her down.

I set her down on the couch, as gently as I could, but of course that wasn’t going to satisfy her now, instead choosing to leap back onto my lap, demanding affection I was more than happy to give. Lyra floated the first aid kit back to its place in the drawer, then looked at the pair of us with a knowing smile as she stepped up to us. “You should be more careful next time, dear,” said Lyra.

Wish nodded into my shirt. “Yes, Mommy,” came the slightly muffled reply. Lyra chuckled, ruffling her mane briefly with a hoof.

“Can you go find Bowmound, Ly?” I asked. “It’s getting pretty late out, and I’d rather not find him worse off, yeah?”

“Of course, Adam,” said Lyra, turning away as I picked both my abandoned book and my blanket up from the floor it had landed on after her tackle. I looked down at the filly occupying my lap, smiling. I paused in my finger-work for a moment, making her look up at me with a pout.

“Does it feel better now?” I asked, pointedly glancing at the white strip around her hoof. Wish nodded rapidly.

“Yes, Daddy,” she said.

My smile grew wider. “Good, good. Say… how about I read you a story to make you feel better? Maybe it’ll help you fall asleep tonight?”

“Yes, please,” she said, nodding again, even faster this time – making me chuckle outright.

“Alright, settle down there, kiddo.” I cracked the book open to the first page, lying down fully so I could hold it open with one hand and pet my filly with the other – who, incidentally, took the opportunity to stretch out on my stomach, looking absolutely adorable. “Okay… okay. ‘Once upon a time, in a land far away, there was a little pegasus with a big dream…’”

Honestly, at this point, how could I possibly have even pretended to be surprised?

“Second Minister.”

“Yes, First Minister?”

“I asked you to give me three names, to fill three positions. You… have given me eleven. I… wh… no, not ‘why,’ how? How can there possibly be four different candidates for the post of Minister for the Interior? Here, of all places?”

Once again, Construct had wildly exceeded my expectations. Well, either that, or the Free State was secretly filled with ponies with twenty years of experience in mid-level bureaucracy, but I figured that was considerably less likely than the former. Apparently, I already had a cabinet fully formed, simply from the… ‘unskilled dross’ was probably a little demeaning, but really, what would high-level government employees be doing coming to me?

“Most of those names are for Agriculture, First Minister,” explained Construct. “I figured you would want some leeway for that secretariat, and all of those candidates have great experience in that field.”

“…Mmm,” I hummed. “I see. For a second there, I thought you’d already found a pony for every single position I had. I’d almost call you a psychic superhero or something like that.”

…Well. I had names, now. Quite a few to choose from, as a matter of fact. Now, though… what was I going to do with them? An internship was not really the sort of thing I was looking for, and I doubted an interview process was entirely appropriate either. I might as well have picked the names out of a hat.

“…Would any of these ponies fit any of the other posts better?” I asked.

“One might,” said Construct. “Fountain Quill. Unicorn with a paperwork mark, of all things. I believe he’d fit in well just about anywhere, but he’s the only name I have for Immigration & Citizenship.”

“Good call,” I agreed. “Lotta paperwork for that, and no mistake. I might well have stuck him with the whole ministry if I wasn’t so spoilt for choice. Your opinion? Who should I pick, d’ya think?”

“My opinion?” Construct was rather surprised to hear me ask her, by all accounts. It took her a few seconds to gather her thoughts. “…Ah, I believe for Agriculture… you won’t go wrong with Green Thumb. Knowledge of the field, a decade and a half of experience, as well as some familiarity with government procedure.”

“Good enough for me,” I immediately declared. “That’ll be Secretary Green Thumb, then.”

“Are… are you sure, First Minister? I just…”

“I’m sure,” I replied, a little cheekily. “You recommended him, right? Can’t go too wrong. Besides… so long as he’s co-”

“She, First Minister.”

“She, sorry – so long as she’s competent, I won’t have any issues. And if she’s not, I’ll replace her with someone who is. Or, at least, might be. We’ll have to keep an eye on them for a few months, while they acclimatise to their new responsibilities. I’ll ask her some questions at any rate, before she takes the post.”

“…As you wish, First Minister.”

“Mmm.” I caught the disquiet in her voice, but chose not to comment on it. “Fountain Quill can get Immigration, then. Can finally get someone other than Blueblood take care of new arrivals. I’ll have to ask him to bring Quill up to speed. And, then… hmm. Who’d be a good pick for Minister for the Interior? This… Durian fellow?”

“An older stallion,” answered Construct. “A somewhat abrasive fellow, but he made a convincing case for his abilities. Apparently he fell out of favour with the Equestrian nobility some years back.”

“Mmm,” I hummed. “Not sure how much I like that, to be honest. Interior minister’s gonna have to work together with quite a few ponies; I’d rather not have someone causing unnecessary friction so high up. How about this Whisker chap? They any good at getting along to get along?”

“…Yes, actually, First Minister,” said Construct. “She’s quite… agreeable. Unfortunately I can’t say much good things about her experience.”

“That can be taught,” I dismissed. “Acquired. I’ll take her under my wing myself if I need to. So long as Interior can interpret what I say and disseminate that properly to the secretariats, and throw what they report back up to me, that’s just fine. So… let’s try Whisker, then.”

“As you wish, First Minister.”

...Huh. Picking government employees is easier than I thought. I set the paper down on my desk, underlined the three ponies I’d selected so I wouldn’t forget, and turned back to Construct, who was peering at me quizzically. “Right, that’s good. Keep on the lookout for any other ponies that might fit the remaining positions, yeah? Don’t make it a priority unless it becomes one, I mean. Just let me know if you find some pony who’s a perfect candidate for one.”

“Yes, First Minister.”

“Good.” I clapped, sighing heavily. “Good. Now. What I’d like for you to do now, is pick a few ponies… a dozen. Maybe two. Randomly, from the whole population. I want to know what the people want out of the Free State. Make sure Blueblood gets the memo; I’ll want you there too. ‘Bout time I called an actual convention for the bloody founding document of the nation, eh?”

Construct tilted her head, eyes widening slightly. “First Minister?”

“Gotta know what to enshrine,” I remarked glibly. “Fuck actually knows how the country’s gonna be run, right? Suppose we ought to figure that out quickly. Cabinet’s all well and good, but…”

It was a few things, really, that were pushing me to go forward so quickly. I was still running the place more like a warlord than a First Minister – through force of personality, and my (apparent) popularity with the unwashed masses, rather than military might, but still. That sort of style just wasn’t for me. Not to mention people could go and do things and solve problems for me, rather than me doing it all myself. The real benefit, though, was that I could finally start making good on my promises, and start building up my people to bigger and better things – the Free State Dream, if one was feeling poetic. Building a community where people stood side-by-side, linked in brotherhood, those prospering giving to those who need it… without all the bollocks Equestria was going through, I mean. Hmm. Maybe I could rip off those six founding tenets of Equestria, too – just with more sensible ones. I mean… laughter?

I shook myself out of it. “Yes, right. Grab a few ponies who know what they would be talking about. Er, no, actually, make sure there’s a few… shall we say, less politically-orthodox individuals, too. Not too many – I’d like to mostly focus on the common pony. Y’know… like Hooves and his, come to think of it. Hmm…” I wonder what he’s up to, now? Haven’t talked to him in a long while. Where does that sneaky bugger live?

“Yes, First Minister,” replied Construct with a nod. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Good, good.” Just as Construct was about to turn away, I snapped my fingers, sort of, getting her attention again. “Wait, just one more thing. Can you fetch Blueblood for me? I’ve got a favour I need to ask him, as soon as possible.”

“What? Why?” she asked.

I smiled coyly. “…No reason. Incidentally, I’m taking the twenty-ninth off. If you’re gonna gate-crash my kid’s party, you better have a damn good reason for it. Would you be fine taking over for the day? You know, just in case something does come up.”

“…Of course, First Minister,” said Construct, smiling thinly herself. “I’ll let the Ambassador know. When should I table the convention for?”

“Oh…” I frowned. “Er, honestly, I don’t really know. A week, maybe? I should have a list of issues by then. Yeah, make it a week. Have it… er, office’s not quite ready yet, is it? Find a warehouse that’s mostly empty, we’ll make do.”

“Seventeenth, then, First Minister,” said Construct. “So long as the Ambassador finishes his favour for you before then, if I may remind you.”

“I’m sure it won’t take that long,” I dismissed. “It’s only a bakery. Won’t take that much convincing to invite Celestia here, either. We’re pretty good friends, you know.”

Construct’s flinch threw me off. “…Are you sure that is a good idea, Ad- ...First Minister?” At my more inquisitive frown, she continued. “I mean, I’d hate to get in the way of your personal plans, but… ahem. Are you planning to invite Night Gown to your party?”

I blinked, parsing the meaning behind her words. Then, a grimace of disgust replaced my frown. “Feh. She already knows I’m close with the Princess, and she hasn’t said a word yet. My personal life’s none of her business, anyway. It’s a birthday party, for fuck’s sake. Grow up.”

My tone apparently convinced Construct to back off – figuratively and literally. “…Yes, First Minister,” she said. “I’ll… go carry out my duties, then.” I nodded, and turned back to my desk.

Hmh. Construct just had to bring up the thestrals, didn’t she? In truth, I still had no idea what to do about them. No doubt, with what I was planning to do with my State, I might well eventually establish an actual relationship with their little group. Letting thestrals run around freely in the State was going to raise more than a few eyebrows, here and in Equestria, but at the same time I had promised – agreed, even – to let them stay here without persecution, based on their tribe anyway. I had considered the idea of a segregated settlement just for the thestrals, but… as good as the idea might have been in terms of making first steps, it was still rather… gross. For one, I was going to have to keep a very close eye on anything that was going to happen in that place, which was undoubtedly going to chafe. And for two, it still wasn’t really going to solve the underlying problem -

Which, I was only now realising, was not, in fact, their tribe.

Where did this myth of thestrals, blood-sucking night bats, even come from? If my suspicions were correct, the average Equestrian was hundreds and hundreds of years removed from even the last sighting of a thestral on their soil. No doubt their being persona non grata had a hand in that, but still – how can you grow past prejudice like that if your great-great-great-grandfather hadn’t even seen one in person himself, and all you had was children’s stories?

Fuck, at this point just letting them run around freely might well have been the revolutionary step needed in the first place. Sticking one in my cabinet with most ponies still thinking that of them was certainly going to cause a massive political shitstorm, on both sides of the border. But, at the same time…

I sighed. The fact of the matter was… Night Gown had told me that “a few weary” thestrals had settled here. I was able to read the subtext of that statement just fine – there were not so many thestrals willing to forsake their goal and live lives of peace under me. I still had no idea exactly how large the Corps really was, and by extension how many thestrals there were, but an entire sub-species surviving for a thousand years in those kinds of circumstances told me it couldn’t have been just a few scattered cells. In any case, there were still lots and lots and lots of thestrals out for blood.

Now, I didn’t think of myself as a diplomatic mastermind of any calibre whatsoever, but if there was a chance I could prove that ponies and thestrals could settle their differences and live together as equals…

The pieces fit together in my head, I figured. If I could show both sides that neither had anything to fear from the other – dismantling this ridiculous ‘vampony’ myth on the one side, and proving that ponies hadn’t anything against them on the other – well, perhaps the whole root of the thestral cause would shrivel away and die. Letting thestrals walk around interacting with ponies, maybe working alongside them, that would be enough, right? Maybe just for the Free State, at least. An Equestrian Good Friday Agreement would be the best outcome for both sides, right?

Of course, the real challenge would, as ever, be in the implementation. Perhaps the ponies of the Free State had less to fear and more to bond over, since both sides held a disdain for the Equestrian system, but… there was still the chance my people would go batshit crazy (hehe) and start pogroms. Equestria might not have kind things to say, either, unless I really made a show of them bowing down and letting peace ram them up the jacksie… so to speak. Not to mention what the Corps itself would think of such a proposition. I was sure they’d have been fine with peace within the Free State, but… and what about their Empress?

The creak of the door opening behind me put a quick stop to that train of thought. “First Minister?” called Blueblood’s voice. “You called for me?”

“Yes, I did,” I replied, smoothly shoving my musings back into a box at the back of my mind for later. I still had plenty of time to think about the issue – and certainly I had bigger ones to concern myself about in the present, too. “I apologise for the somewhat frivolous request, but I have a little favour to ask of you.”

“What do you need, First Minister?” asked Blueblood.

“A few things, Ambassador,” I started. “First off, do you happen to know what the best bakery in Canterlot is…?”

23. Deeper Waters III - Consolidation

I had to be honest: I didn’t have very high hopes for this little convention. Shuffling my feet around the collection of crates arranged haphazardly into an approximation of a conference table, inside a gloomy, mostly-empty warehouse chosen to house the meeting to determine the composition of an entire nation, did not exactly make me feel like the second coming of James Madison.

Sure, I could see the benefit of doing something like this, and Construct making it more-or-less open to the public, despite what I had told her to do. A real man of the people, I was shaping up to be; I could certainly see the appeal – and the benefits – of an image like that. Letting the common pony dictate what the nation would end up looking like was certainly a breath of fresh air compared to the place most of my citizens ended up running away from, for one reason or another. Not to mention the benefits of unexpected insights from people who otherwise wouldn’t have had the chance to give them.

On the other hand, though… there was probably going to be a lot of shouting involved along the way. The common pony wasn’t too likely to give half a shit about how things work so long as their families were fed and got to sleep under a roof. I was certain there were going to be a lot of different, conflicting beliefs running around between the ponies who were going to walk in here. Quite honestly, I might well not even get anything useful out of this whole shebang, and this will have been an enormous waste of at least half a day. Most likely more.

I grumbled some indistinct insult under my breath, drawing bemused glances from my companions which I swiftly waved off.

Construct was to my immediate left, running through some checklist or another, occasionally glancing up at the entrance or at us. On my other side was my new Interior minister, Whisker, who was looking distinctly uncomfortable to be here, her wings rustling with what I assumed to be agitation. To her other side, standing slightly behind her, were her new subordinates, Fountain Quill and Green Thumb, who were a lot more nonplussed – dare I say, even bored. Blueblood was not present, unfortunately, having fucked off to Equestria yet again, though he did at least provide a decent excuse this time. Something about trouble in the nobility, or some such. Probably for the best, anyway.

Besides us, there were already a few ponies standing around the other side of the ‘table,’ apparently beginning to regret their decision to show up so early. I had tabled the convention for pretty early on in the day, so that we could have as much of an uninterrupted stretch of time in which to discuss as possible. Waking up at five in the morning, though, was still as unpleasant as it ever was.

“Christ,” I grumbled again. “Please tell me someone’s going to bring refreshments in here at some point. I’d rather not be stuck in here for the whole day without even anything to eat…”

“Yes, First Minister,” droned Construct. “I’ve already taken care of it.”

Well that’s good then. I strode forth to unceremoniously park my arse in my seat at the head of the table, having grown tired of standing around doing bugger-all. Construct followed suit quickly, sitting down next to me; Whisker and her lot were a little more hesitant, but soon took their places to my right.

Right. We’ve got a few things to get through today, I reminded myself, skimming through the list Construct had provided me for the day, on the surface in front of me. It was depressingly short, for how much time I was sure it was going to take us to decide on.

We were here to finally define the Free State properly. On our terms, I meant – I was still First Minister really only by the grace of Mummy Dearest, with the file of documents to prove it. Honestly, I was quite surprised my people accepted that as the basis of my authority, considering their opinion on Equestria, although admittedly I had done a little bit of work as First Minister that they seemed to appreciate. So to speak.

An actual, formal constitution – agreed to by a good chunk of the country itself, thank you kindly, Construct – was going to be a big step to… stepping out of the shadow of Celestia, I supposed. It was going to be a symbol to rally around, too, helping to coalesce some kind of national identity together, separate from Equestria. That was going to be absolutely crucial in the long run, and no mistake. And, importantly, it would give me some actual, honest-to-goodness legitimacy, which would help with solidifying my position as First Minister.

...Oh Christ, I really have turned into a politician, I grumbled to myself. I ought to have reminded myself every now and then that I was actually doing all of this for a reason, and not just for the sake of it. In the end, this was going to end up helping people. In a round-about way, sure, but it still counted. So, there was that as well. Poor form to forget about that.

I looked up from my checklist and glanced around the room. It was still very sparsely populated; me and my group sat at the head of the table, and smatterings of one or two ponies around the rest of it. A few chose to forego seating and merely stood around, now looking terminally impatient.

“You know, Second Minister,” I began suddenly, drawing the attention of my whole entourage. “I’m really beginning to regret showing up so early. Why did I agree to this, again?”

“You were the one who was so insistent that this needed to take place, First Minister,” said Construct, not bothering to look up from her own notes.

“Isn’t it supposed to be one of your duties to stop me from being an idiot?” I asked, rhetorically. “I could have shown up only twenty minutes early and gotten an extra two hours of sleep.”

“Very responsible of you, First Minister,” came the reply. “As far as I see it, I have already done so.”

“Urgh,” I groaned, defeated. Turning my head to the other side revealed the bewildered faces of the remainder of my subordinates. “Once I start paying you, whoever knocks Construct upside the head for making me wake up early gets a raise.”

Something approaching a snort of amusement snuck out of my Second Minister, which made me smirk in turn. “Should… I write that down?” asked Whisker.

“No,” I said, suppressing a roll of my eyes. “Just a joke.”

“Oh… sorry.”

“Nothing to apologise for,” I waved off. “I realise you’d not quite be used to working with me just yet, and that you don’t know me very well – personally or professionally. But anyway… since I have you here, and we’re still a ways off before I need to begin… Secretary Fountain Quill.”

The unicorn jumped slightly at the mention of his name. “Ah, yes, First Minister?”

“Could I entrust you to handle the minutes of this event?”

“…Minutes?”

I stared, unimpressed. Apparently the pony with an image of a parchment and quill stamped on his arse didn’t know what minutes were – something I had to correct swiftly. “A record of proceedings,” I soon explained. “Essentially, you record what happens in shorthand – things like major decisions made and agreed on, topics brought up for discussion, things like that – and you write the minutes off that for archival, or later distribution if someone wasn’t present. Pretty important for groups like us, doing things like this, to keep minutes.”

“First Minister,” interrupted Construct, drawing my attention to her. “I can handle that duty if necessary.”

I lowered my voice somewhat, leaning in a little closer to make sure only she could hear what I had to say. “I know you could, Second Minister, but… I’ve got suspicions that my subordinates aren’t exactly the most experienced in their new positions-”

“And you are?” asked Construct, similarly quietly.

“Couple more months than they are, yes,” I rebutted. “What I mean is, I’d like to give at least some of them some hands-on – hooves-on, whatever – experience in government. Before shit gets serious enough that consequences for fucking it up become… severe. It might not be much, but it’d be better than nothing.”

“…I see,” said Construct. “Although in that case, I’d worry that you wouldn’t be doing enough to ensure their competence.”

“You don’t have to worry on that front,” I said, back to my normal volume. “We’re all going be working together an awful lot over the next few months and years. They’ll have plenty of opportunities to learn from me, and on the job. So, Secretary Quill,” I refocused to the unicorn, who seemed rather disconcerted at what he had heard so far. “Can I trust you to take down the minutes?”

“…Er, yes, First Minister, I can. I mean, you can. I-I won’t let you down!” Quill punctuated his statement with nodding that made me worry about whiplash on his behalf.

“Easy there, kid,” I chuckled. “I won’t bite your head off. Just do your best.” My words seemed to help, maybe, with Quill settling down into his seat with something that might well have been relief, proceeding to make a frankly frightening amount of loose sheets whirl around his horn, one of his namesakes floating in from the side.

I shook my head to break myself out of staring at the spectacle. Throwing a glance at the other two of my new underlings showed me I had a little bit more to say before we’d all be fine. “Minister Whisker?” I prompted the pegasus, who had all but started trembling in her seat. Huge shaking eyes flitted over to me. “There’s no need to stress out,” I consoled. “I don’t expect you to be thrown into the deep end today. Really, one of the main reasons I invited you here today was so that you could see me in action as First Minister. You know, performing official government duties – some of which will eventually become yours. Just to familiarise yourself with the kind of work you’ll be doing, yeah?”

Whisker let a huge breath leave her, though the trembling still remained. “Y-yes, First Minister,” she managed.

Oh dear. “Just sit and watch,” I told her, returning to my notes. “If nothing else. Though if you do have any suggestions, please do speak up.” I didn’t catch whatever reply she might have given me. I was a little more busy with the latest set of revelations I’d just been given.

To speak the truth, I’d just fed Minister Whisker a load of horsecrap. It wasn’t about teaching her how to sit in a room and talk to a crowd; it was about meeting my new cabinet members in person for the first time, which was already going about as well as could be expected. Apparently, I cut an intimidating figure – though of course I’d already known that, what with the whole thing with ponies only coming up to just above my stomach. That, together with the nerves that had to come with being hand-picked by Construct and I to take massively important and demanding positions – well, eventually important and demanding positions – had to be more than a little nerve-wracking. Particularly with their first official business involving a public appearance.

The thought made me frown. The consequences of that being, Inns…? Sure, that was going to tell ponies I was… grabbing myself some counsel, I guessed? The big one, of course, was more obvious – my ministers were probably going to be hounded in the streets by ponies looking to whisper into my own ear – or, if we were unlucky, something much less useful. Not to mention them being… less-than-special, so to speak, was going to open the floodgates to every Tom, Dick and Harry asking for a spot up there with me.

I made sure to jot that down somewhere. Most likely that was going to be handed off to Construct, if it ever became a pressing concern. Although, I supposed, since we were practically picking cabinet members off the streets anyway…

Whatever. I shook the thought away, for later. Speaking of cabinet members… I had to pencil in a time to acquaint my employees as to what they would actually be doing in their roles. An orientation, of sorts. Ideally I’d have liked to do that with a fully-armed and operational battle cabinet, but in practice I suspected it’d be a little while before I had any need for, say, a Secretary for Foreign Intelligence, or anything like that. Most likely I was going to introduce them one-on-one, or three-on-one in the case of what I had currently. I made sure to note that down as well – orientate new cabinet members as they come before official business begins.

Heh, I chuckled inwardly. Nothing like an exception that proves the rule, huh?

“First Minister?” Construct’s voice broke me out of my trance. I rubbed at my eyes and turned to face her.

“Yes?”

“Fifteen minutes,” she told me, nodding pointedly at the other side of the table.

I looked. While I was distracted, the room had filled up almost to bursting. The table was already fully occupied, with a sea of ponies stood beyond those lucky few who arrived early to grab an actual chair. The warehouse was deceptively small, but still I had to count at least two hundred in just my line-of-sight. Quadrupeds could pack in surprisingly tightly, I reckoned. “Oh, right,” I muttered. “Christ, time flies when you’re doing other things, huh.”

And it certainly had. A full forty-five minutes had not quite elapsed yet, but it was a close thing. I re-busied myself with checking over my notes for the convention that was about to start one last time, even though I didn’t really need to since I’d be looking over it regardless. Paid to double-check, in any case.

“Good morning, ladies and, er, gentlestallions,” I began with just a touch of awkwardness. As I stood up, the room silenced at once, as if someone had turned the volume down; all eyes were on me. I swallowed a lump in my throat before continuing. “I… suppose I should say a few words before we start.”

That, of course, ended up being quite the wrong thing to say – not because of any impatience in the crowd, or because I’d rubbed some of them the wrong way by saying that, but because I found I couldn’t actually think of anything. All my notes were about the pertinent issues, as were all of my subordinates’. I hadn’t thought to pencil a speech about how great the Free State was to live in and how fantastic (quote-unquote) of a job I’d done making it so.

Although, that might not be such a bad idea… What with me being a politician, I supposed I could just pull some platitudes out of my arse before moving on to the real business of the hour. I did, after all, apparently have some skill in improvisation; a short little speech to psyche the crowd up like I was a rockstar on stage couldn’t have hurt, right?

“First of all,” I began, cutting through the now-somewhat-awkward silence effortlessly. “I would just like to thank you all for making the effort to be present today. That so many of you are invested in the direction of the Free State, and are willing to step up and make yourselves and your opinions be heard, gladdens me like little else.” I suppressed a grimace at how similar I was starting to sound to Celestia, and continued. “No successful nation can afford to neglect its people, after all, neither in terms of livelihood, or freedom, or justice, or anything else. That is why I have invited you all here today.”

Hey, a little white lie never hurt anyone. I snuck a short glance over to Construct, who fortunately didn’t seem too put-off by me totally stealing all her credit, and made a mental note to pay her back at some point, somehow. “Though the Free State may certainly be an entity to be reckoned with, and though I may have taken the lead in its creation and development, the fact remains that the State remains young – malleable. We have before us a unique opportunity, one perhaps not seen in a millennium. One that will lay the framework for future generations within the Free State to live free and prosper. We have the opportunity… to decide our future.”

Seemingly every face in the room was on me, hanging on my every word. I cleared my throat, not entirely nervously. “The Free State as it is now, is little more than a provisional dictatorship,” I said. “I have little desire to rule as an autocrat, nor will I be able to lead forever – I am mortal, after all, and I am not infallible. The power of a nation is always vested in its people, and the Free State is no exception. So shall you, the people of this Free State, decide its future.”

Hmm. Decent enough speech, I suppose. A round of polite hoof-clapping ensued, a few ponies giving each other nods of approval. I paid less heed to my ministers, concerned as I was with the unwashed masses. I glanced down at my checklist. “The nature of the Free State,” I read off, quietly. “Hmm. That sounds a little bit stupid, actually.”

“You’re the pony that wrote it,” said Construct.

An excellent point, I had to concede – though of course not verbally. “Not a pony,” I reminded her absently.

And it was, of course, an excellent point. Despite all my efforts so far, I was still not terribly experienced myself. How would one go about crowd-sourcing a founding document? Even better, I couldn’t even figure out how I would go and tell them that. ‘Hey, could I ask all two hundred of you to agree on a form of government for me’ sounded… mind-bogglingly idiotic, but I really couldn’t think of anything better.

Certainly, I could merely have turned this into a PSA, and just told my citizens how they’d be ruled, whether by autocracy or democracy, but… that smacked just a tiny little bit of despotism, and I had little interest in ruling by diktat. This was going to impact the lives of over a thousand people – more, later, if it got that far. This was not a game. They had a say in matters, for fuck’s sake – how much of that had they gotten back in Equestria?

But.

Wasn’t that the entire point of a democracy, that the common citizen could have a say in how their country was run? I could admit my political loyalties were a little bit too all-over-the-place to call myself a real republican, but… it would certainly have been a good starting point, if nothing else. To my knowledge, democracies were exceedingly rare in Equus, confined mostly to the Griffonian splinter nations – which weren’t exactly a shining endorsement to the average pony. Though, compared to Equestria…

I shook my head and refocused. The crowd was starting to get a little restless under my clueless stare. “That is why,” I said, hiding my ad-libbing as best I could, “my intention for the Free State is to transform it from a functional warlord state, to a full, free and fair parliamentary republic, where the voice of each citizen can be heard, where the leadership is held accountable for its missteps, and where liberty and freedom for all is enshrined in the very foundations of the nation.”

It was alright, as far as mission statements went, even if it left a bittersweet aftertaste in my mouth. I ignored Construct’s head whipping around out of the corner of my eye, and focused on the crowd’s reaction. “Many of you – hell, most of you – are here because, for whatever reasons, you could no longer stand the conditions in Equestria; whether political, social, or economic. Do not fear; I have no intention of forsaking my efforts to bring the people prosperity, or security. Your livelihoods will come first. After that, however… I will make sure the Free State is a nation worth that livelihood.”

I chanced a short look around the room, gauging the reaction. A few ponies, mostly near the back, looked like they were swallowing lemons – must have been some revolutionary nutters, perhaps. Quite a few looked much more at ease with my agenda. The rest were… really rather frighteningly indifferent. With any luck that was due to my own deficiencies in oration, rather than their deficiencies in giving a fuck about anything. It wasn’t really my intention to devolve this gathering into a rhetoric-spewing session, but… if it could convert some of these seemingly-uncaring folks into my loyalists?

I refocused. The notes in my hand I put back down onto the table – for what I was about to say, they were neither needed, nor useful. “The transition process will be split into three phases. The first phase is what we are in now – a provisional government, with me at its head, charged with developing the nation, its institutions and traditions; from the top down, across the entirety of the Free State. The second phase will entail the creation of local, devolved ruling authorities; city councils, communes, administrative zones, whatever the case may be, on a case-by-case basis. They, in turn, will form a national authority, which representatives from those local bodies will be admitted to, which will eventually be responsible for the legislative process. The third and final phase will entail completing the democratisation process – local elections will fill the positions of the local councils, which will in turn fill the national assembly; finally, a national election will then fill the position of First Minister itself, directly.”

...Hmm. I’ve never had to describe the process of democratisation to a room full of former imperial subjects before. I swallowed, feeling unaccountably like I was talking out of my arse (which, in all honesty, I absolutely was), and kept going. “Of course, the details of this process will be confirmed at a later date -” an oblique way of saying I didn’t have a fucking clue what those details were supposed to actually be “- as and when their implementation becomes necessary.

“Now,” I said, glancing down at the sheet on the table for my next topic. “Of course, all the democratic electioneering in the world won’t do the common pony any good if they do not have the freedom to vote for who they like, or speak out against who they dislike, or what have you. Equestria may claim to be a bastion of harmony and friendship – indeed, perhaps even its cradle – but what good does that do their downtrodden? Their oppressed, disenfranchised, poor and hungry? When the glare of the sun and its alicorn blinds its sight to their plight?”

Construct was kind enough to elbow me in the side, stopping my rather pointless – not to mention combative – waffling in my tracks. “Not here, I say! I promised you homes and livelihoods, and that is what I will give you. No citizen of the Free State will be left without a shelter, no citizen of the Free State will be left without three meals a day, no citizen of the Free State will be left without means of contributing to their society and community! Whether by compassion of their fellow neighbours, friends, countrymen, or by the efforts of the state itself, no-one will be left behind.”

The crowd seemed to me to be getting somewhat more restless. I realised, perhaps a little belatedly, that they’d already heard a version of that very same sales pitch before. At least twice, in fact. Though at least this time they had the comfort of knowing (that is to say, being promised) that this rhetoric was going to enter official government policy. I nodded, mostly to myself, and moved on once more.

“Just as those promises shall be enshrined within the very foundations of this state, so too shall your freedoms be so. Freedom of speech, freedom of press, freedom of association, all the basic liberties a sapient being ought to be afforded as part of a nation’s fundamental obligation to look after its citizens. I’ll spare you all the long-winded speech, for once -” some scattered polite chuckles following the sentence “- but I can assure you all here, today, that the Free State shall be a beacon of hope and freedom, now and forever.”

This time around, the hoof-clapping was more vigorous. Approving glances and smiles of satisfaction all around, particularly from those I’d picked up on earlier who’d been more enthusiastic than most at my agenda – the democrats, as I’d tentatively labelled them. Probably some of those devolutionaries I’d heard so much about; most likely the hardliners and radicals, given that they didn’t see sufficient reason to choose Equestria over the Free State, for whatever reason. I was pretty sure I was going to find myself a decent support base from them – assuming they weren’t economic liberals as well as social ones, anyway.

I shook my head, ridding myself of the tangent. All things considered, that had gone… adequately. Perhaps a little long-winded, but in fairness, I was a politician now. If I didn’t love the sound of my own voice (which, truth be told, I did not in fact care for much), I’d better have learned quickly.

“Shall we move on now, First Minister?” The reminder came from Construct, as ever, prompting me to pick my notes back up, skimming them once more. I nodded at her gratefully, and started again.

“Now,” I called, silencing the peanut gallery at once. “The next point on the agenda…”

…

Five hours, one lunch break and about a litre of coffee later, I had just about hashed out everything I’d needed to. From overall structure, ideology, goals, to make-up, electoral and judicial, to much less important (or rather, pressing) things like cultural norms and iconography. Since hey – if I was going to do this, I might as well have done it all in one go. Just in case. Even if all I really had to say on the matter was ‘work in progress’ – which it literally was, for some of those topics.

I was rubbing at my throat something fierce, hoping and praying I wouldn’t lose my voice before the end of the whole shebang, and let out a mighty breath of relief at having reached my final bullet point – taking questions from the general public, a noticeable portion of which had left the building already, having realised that they didn’t actually care as much as they thought they did, or at least not enough to stand in one place for most of the day. Someone was bound to circulate the contents of the convention, anyway. Most likely us. I probably shouldn’t have let them leave, but… whatever.

“…Thank you all for your attendance, everypony,” Construct was saying to those still here, having taken over what she could so that I could catch a break and drink some water to stave off both my sore throat and the first forming specks of a slight-yet-insistent headache. “Though there still remains one last item on our agenda, as of now this convention is officially concluded. If you do not wish to remain to ask any questions you may have, then you are free to go.”

Surprisingly few ponies decided to take the opportunity, in fact – a few stragglers near the back of the crowd discreetly slipped away, quite a few of which I noticed had wings, and a smattering throughout the main body. Every other person stood practically stock-still, starting up a quiet, yet excited muttering amongst themselves, no doubt eager to prattle off whatever nonsense they had in their minds. I was already bracing myself for pointed questions about Equestria.

“Ready, First Minister?” asked Construct, throwing me a faintly concerned look as I set my mug down. I waved her concerns off.

“Yes, Second Minister, I am,” I replied, sounding like someone’d thrown a cup of gravel into a running washing machine, and cleared my throat. “I’m sure you people can still understand me, at least.”

Construct decided not to humour me, and instead returned her focus to the crowd. “Anypony who has a query, or anything else of relevance to add, you may raise your hooves.”

There were a great many hooves raised. I suppressed a sigh, realising I wasn’t going to be done talking for a little while longer; Construct shot me a piteous glance as she gestured at me quizzically. I waved her off and stood back up, taking a moment to brush some non-existent dust off my shoulder, before picking an upraised hoof at random.

The pony in question took a few steps forward, nodding at me gratefully, the crowd parting before her obligingly. “First Minister,” she said. “What will happen to our current system of food distribution? Is rationing going to end soon?”

I raised my eyebrows slightly – in fairness, I should probably have expected food security to be pretty high up on people’s lists, considering. “Unfortunately, no,” I replied quickly. “With how rapidly the Free State has grown, and continues to grow, our food security is still precarious. Until I can guarantee that we are able to produce enough to feed us even should disaster strike, our current rationing policies will remain in effect.”

“And will you continue to implement them as you are currently?” she followed up.

That made me frown more noticeably. It was a good point – right now, at least one of Construct, me, Blueblood, and now Whisker needed to be supervising our distribution efforts. A decent system for five, six, seven hundred ponies, twice a day – but the strain on a thousand and four hundred-ish was starting to show. If we kept growing, our single building dedicated to feeding the masses would soon be overwhelmed, or at least kept working around the clock feeding ponies in shifts.

“For the foreseeable future, yes,” I finally decided. “We will of course take all necessary steps to ensure that distribution remains as efficient and effective as possible, should need arise to change our current methods.”

A few feathers were ruffled, I saw – of course, no-one likes to be told ‘no, you can’t have what you want,’ but the pony who asked the question seemed satisfied enough, retreating back from the spotlight. With any luck, that’d be the end of that particular point of contention until things finally started to get better – although I wasn’t going to hold my breath.At Construct’s call, hooves were raised again – this time, noticeably less than before; seemed like a few folk only cared about full stomachs, which was… adequate. I supposed.

Another pony stepped forth at my beckon. “First Minister,” came the by-now standard introduction. “You’ve spoken before of citizens and residents of the Free State; my question is, which of the two are we now, and what is the difference?”

“Ah, yes,” I said, nodding along. “My apologies for the confusion, allow me to clarify. At present, you all are residents of the Free State; that is, residing within it. As such, you are all afforded the basic protections given to any sapient being – or rather, that should be given to sapient beings – access to shelter, food, employment, and the like. Since the Free State is so young, and its institutions not yet matured, the benefits of full-on citizenship – voting rights, right to counsel in foreign nations, civil and military service, and so on – are not really applicable as of yet.”

“Will we be given citizenship at any point?” was the follow-up.

“Yes,” I confirmed. “Once an official government structure is finalised, and a constitution is enshrined, any residents of the Free State, barring exceptional cases, will automatically be given citizenship through a census. However, after that point, any applicable immigration and citizenship laws and processes will need to be followed to obtain citizenship.”

With a nod, the pony stepped back as well. A short pause let me drink some water to wet my throat, before someone decided to muscle through the crowd, drawing squawks of alarm and anger. Construct and Fountain Quill made to stand up, but I waved them both off, gesturing somewhat needlessly at the pegasus stallion that had rather impolitely made himself known.

“What do you intend to do with Equestria, First Minister?” said the stallion, rather gruffly, and not a bit angrily.

Well, there it is. At the question, I could see the crowd behind him cool, some nodding their heads along and looking challengingly at me. A dull murmur ran through the whole room that I was forced to speak over.

“That’s a little open-ended to answer completely, sir,” I started – to which he cut me off, growing increasingly irritated.

“It’s no secret you’re close with the Princess,” he all but spat. “I’ve been burned enough by Equestria’s most loyal servants! Will you allow the Diarchy to dictate your internal policy? Decide who is allowed to live here? Work? How much we are owed in tithe? And to whom? Repatriate-”

“Most assuredly not.” I cut his increasingly-incensed accusations short, conveniently quieting the rest of the room along with him. My own temper flared briefly, but I reigned it in, showing only enough to accentuate my own point rather than losing control myself. “The Free State plays second-fiddle to no-one. We are in control of our own destiny, and no-one else. It’s true that I am acquainted with her Highness, but make no mistake – if she comes to me to dictate terms, I will gladly tell her precisely where to stick them. I am responsible for you, not her subjects.”

“…Good,” was all the pegasus could muster, nodding at me with rather quickly-newfound respect, stepping back into the crowd almost sheepishly.

I let the crowd simmer for a little bit more, taking another drink to try to return to my baseline. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Construct giving me an approving nod, which I returned. Glancing around, I saw… a concerningly large amount of equally-approving faces looking at me. Apparently, independence was rather a hotter topic than I’d even initially assumed. That, or it was just generally a crowd-pleaser… more likely both, as it happened.

I shook myself out of it, and continued. Another pony stepped up, looking up at me almost shyly. “First Minister, what… you said earlier something about military service? What, exactly, will that entail? Who will protect us if… something should happen?”

I nodded pensively as she finished. Guess we aren’t stepping out of anti-Equestrian paranoia any time soon. Fucking hell… “An excellent question,” I said. “The truth is, the Free State as it is now cannot really afford, nor sustain, any sort of real standing armed forces, and likely will not for a considerable time.” I nodded, more to myself than anything, ideas that were already mulling around in my mind only being reinforced as I thought about it. “Most likely, the case will be that you, yourselves, will end up responsible for your own defense, should the worst occur.”

Of course, I was not stupid enough to miss what she, and most likely much of the rest of the Free State, thought that worst-case scenario was – an Equestrian invasion. Truth be told, I was not terribly concerned by that; certainly not presently, what with exactly I was actually doing here, but my job was such that I couldn’t dismiss the possibility. After all, either Celestia, or I, or either of our subjects’ populations, or some third party, could all spontaneously go insane or something.

…Goddamn thestrals. I very nearly failed to suppress a growl. Well, guess that settles our foreign policy. “I have no interest in foreign adventurism,” I declared. “Home defense will be sufficient; the Free State will grow strong on its own, standing on the shoulders of no other – and yet surpassing them all still. Your homes, your livelihoods, your families, that is what you will be fighting for in case of attack – organised or not.” I gave the crowd a slightly pointed look. “If you cannot even bother to rise to the defense of your own friends, family or possessions, or yourselves, then… well.”

I didn’t bother to finish. Ponies understood me well enough – the surface meaning, at least. With any luck, at least Construct would pick up on the implication that without a military prepared to fight abroad, there was very little need for an internationalist foreign policy – and thus the Free State would comfortably slip into isolationism, working on its own domestic issues. A Home Guard, militia-style of defense would suit my purposes just fine – and would have the added benefit of being considerably cheaper than instituting a formal draft, or an actual professional standing army, neither of which we really needed, strictly speaking.

Construct had taken my thoughtful silence as conclusion, and waved the pony away; another swiftly replaced them. “First Minister, what of those of us who wish to… live elsewhere? Within the Free State, I mean, as homesteaders?”

That question, I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting to hear. I took a precious few seconds to consider the question, frowning thoughtfully. “Well… that is an excellent question. As it stands, the Free State is essentially empty. Though mostly forested. I certainly will not stop you from leaving our settlement, if that is what you desire, though it may make things more… ah, administratively difficult.” And didn’t that sound like a euphemism and a half. “If you are able to travel to whatever chunk of land you wish to claim, and you can do something with it, and survive on it… then I see no reason why you cannot have that land.”

The petitioner nodded gratefully, a wide smile on his muzzle. I pre-empted him opening his mouth again with a raised hand. “If you’d like to discuss this further, please take it up with my Second Minister afterwards.” I gestured to my side to Construct. He dutifully clacked his mouth closed again, and melted back into the crowd.

Huh. Guess we really are Manifest-Destiny-era America now, aren’t we? I rolled my eyes to myself. Fuckin’ culture osmosis.

Another question came. Seemed like this Q&A session wasn’t going to end any time soon. “First Minister, when will we start being paid for our work? And with what?”

I blinked. Another question I probably should have anticipated but didn’t. Construct threw me a questioning look, as if to say ‘should I?’ I shook my head, though, turning back to face the pony who had posed the question.

“Unfortunately, monetary policy has been pretty low on my list of priorities,” I told her. “For now, you will all continue to be paid as you are – with food and housing. Eventually that will turn into actual, legal tender, yes, but at the moment I simply cannot give you anything more.”

“Do you plan on accepting Equestrian bits?” she asked.

“…Most likely,” I said, after a short deliberation. “Currency is currency, and Equestria is the foremost power on the continent – not to mention our only neighbour. The Free State will have its own primary currency, but yes, we will accept Equestrian money too.”

Note to self, find someone who knows the first thing about economics, stat. Yet another pony stepped up to take the former’s place, and I just about managed to not slam my head onto the table. Christ on a bike, how many of these fuckers are there?!

“First Minister,” began the pony – a darkly-coloured pegasus mare I was sure I’d seen somewhere else before, but couldn’t place at all – with a surprisingly cordial undertone. Perhaps I hadn’t suppressed my exasperation as well as I had hoped. “You spoke earlier of rights afforded to sapient beings. Could you elaborate on exactly what those are, and to whom they apply?”

“Of course,” I said. “When I say basic protections, I mean it – food, shelter, employment; protection from discrimination, bondage, or persecution; the right to free speech, to assembly, to association, to legal representation… all of it. And when I say all sapient beings, I mean it – ponies, griffons, minotaurs, zebras, humans… all of them.”

…Chuckling was not what I expected to hear following that. My expression darkened, as I scanned the crowd, looking for the joker, even as it was made painfully clear that more than just a few of the attendees found the concept laughable. “Is there something the matter with a statement like that?” I asked the crowd, which at least had the good sense to quiet down. I looked down at the pegasus at the other end of the table, who, yes, was also suppressing laughter.

“All of them?” she asked, the mirth evident on her voice – but, strangely, just forced enough to be noticeable. “Even cows and sheep? What rights do they need?”

Once again, I was brought up short. “I’m sorry? Cows and sheep?”

“Yeah,” came the reply, from somewhere deep in the crowd rather than the pegasus. “Y’know… livestock!” This time, chuckles rippled out audibly across the room, although now I was confused rather than angry. Livestock? Why do ponies think sapient rights apply… to…

I looked down at the pegasus very carefully. “Cows and sheep are sapient creatures?”

“…Yes, First Minister,” was the obvious – and still tinged with not-entirely-real sarcasm – reply.

And wasn’t that a nasty little surprise to my brain-pan. I lowered my head, trying to wrangle my facial expression away from its instinctive and ingrained outrage and onto something more sensible. So cows and sheep are sapient here… suppose that explains those looks I kept getting at the palace. And yet they’re still called livestock? Are they treated that way, too?

When that thought crossed my mind, I just about started shouting. I looked back up at the pegasus, paying little heed to how her own expression contorted into something decidedly less readable – or maybe that was just my own anger clouding my senses – and continued. “Then why do you call them livestock?”

“Because that’s what Equestria considers them,” Secretary Green Thumb broke in, turning my attention to her, carefully neutral. “They act the part, for one thing, First Minister. We ke- sorry, Equestria keeps them in pens on farmsteads. They graze on grass, except when we feed them other stock during winter or special occasions. And we harvest their milk and wool in exchange.”

In exchange?!

That, apparently, was enough for me. I took a deep breath that was not as calming as I needed it to be, and turned back to the pegasus on the other end of the table. I fought very hard to keep my voice even. “Well, to answer your question,” I began, and at once the room silenced from the chuckling and murmurs I’d had to tune out; the mare locked eyes on me with a steely, evaluating gaze. “Yes, all of them. Even cows and sheep.”

This time, the derisive scoffs that followed did not go ignored. “Because to keep sapient beings in bondage is a travesty, ladies and gentlemen! I do not know how you could possibly have justified such an act while you were present in Equestria, where such a perversion of morality can be acceptable to take place, but no, no, no! There will be no such thing in the Free State for as long as I dare draw breath! To keep a living, thinking, feeling being captive in bondage merely because it is useful to do so, or that it is ordained, or that that’s how it has always been, is an atrocity, nothing more and nothing less! Whether it be by shackles or by fenceposts, I say no more! And if any of you have a problem with this notion, then I gladly invite you to return to whatever slave state you have apparently crawled out of and try out your own livestock regimen on yourselves!”

The room sat silent in the wake of my sudden incendiary rhetoric. I stared down as many ponies in the room as I could; each and every single one of them averted their eyes the second they realised I was looking at them… except for the pegasus that had asked in the first place, some unknowable emotion flitting across the shine of her eyes. She nodded wordlessly, and moved to rejoin the crowd behind her.

I eyed my colleagues briefly. Construct was looking at me coolly, as professional as ever, only nodding at me to let me know she was ready for anything more I might have asked of her. Whisker and her lot… were not so discreet, staring at me with eyes wide and mouths only closed by virtue of not wanting to look ridiculous in front of the public.

Civil rights for livestock was not a battle I thought I was ever going to pick up in my life – and here I stood now, in a room you could have heard a pin drop in, having done exactly that, on the record and in front of a considerable fraction of the country. At least there were worse things to take a stand on as a politician, I supposed. I took a breath, letting the last traces of my indignation leave me along with it, and gestured for one final pony with upraised hoof to take their place.

“…First Minister,” he began, somewhat nervously. “Do… do we have a name for this settlement yet?”

The non-sequitur left me rather nonplussed. “A name?” In doubt, I looked to Construct, who shook her head and shrugged. “I suppose we don’t, no,” I admitted sheepishly. Somehow, that had never entered my mind throughout all this time. A consequence of still thinking of this as my little corner of the woods, somewhere deep down at least, rather than the de-facto capital of the Free State. “…Any suggestions?” I tried.

Predictably, though, after my rather explosive invective, not many were willing to speak up. A few mumbled names were thrown at me from afar, none of which I could decipher. I shook my head and sighed – yet again, it seemed like the responsibility came down onto me. What to name our… our capital, I suppose, isn’t it?

I retreated inward, my head bowing in thought, as I considered, wracking my brain for anything decent I could use. We’ll have to use a theme, won’t we? Or at least make it sound like it’s all from the same language… English – or Ponish or whatever – maybe leave off the pony puns, though? Rather Equestrian, after all…

Fuck it. If in doubt…

“…What about Bastion?” I finally said.

It was a decent enough name, I thought. Fit nicely with the theme of freedom, short and snappy, didn’t sound too ridiculous at first glance – bit of a misnomer, though, since this certainly was not a terribly defensible location, but since that didn’t matter a rat’s arse I figured it didn’t count. I could always say it was metaphorical, anyway. My subordinates were nodding along with me and each other, tentatively, which was a good start. The crowd, too, didn’t seem too put out by my choice; most were indifferent, some were nodding, some were wincing.

I figured that was good enough, and opened my mouth to make it so -

“What about Buckstion?” called a voice from somewhere near the back.

I sighed heavily, sat down – and smashed my forehead right onto the surface of the crate in defeat. Construct and Whisker, the two sat closest to me, jumped up in alarm, then concern, as I turned my head to stare the former in the eye.

“Fuckin’ ponies, man…” I grumbled by way of explanation. “Just go with Bastion, Second Minister.”

I’d asked my cabinet to stay for a little longer after Construct had finally formally concluded the convention, and the crowd had begun to disperse. Nothing major was on the cards, to my knowledge, unless my head-desk had given them concerns about brain damage – or, indeed, unless anything else I’d fed the peanut gallery had done so. I watched the ponies shuffle out somewhat tiredly, feeling rather worn out myself; my throat in particular was complaining something fierce, as it had been for the past two and a half hours. The papers in front of me I’d handed off to Construct to do with as she pleased – that being immediately handing them over to Fountain Quill to assist with the work I’d tasked him previously.

As the room emptied, I stood back up, popping my back with all the tension that had snuck into it from the day so far – Gordon Bennett, I’ve spent most of the day on this bollocks – and glanced tiredly at my fellow ponies. “Right,” I began, not wanting to waste any time. “That’s all for now, then, folks. Secretary Quill, you have the minutes; please make two sets, one for our own bookkeeping and one to distribute around to the general public.

“…Right, First Minister,” came the slightly nervous reply. “The first will be more comprehensive, and the second more easily digestible by the common pony?”

I nodded in approval, not missing the delighted satisfaction on his muzzle as he flitted papers about in front of him and got to work at once. “We will schedule a meeting as to how to go about actually implementing these things at a later date,” I said, glancing between the four ponies in front of me. “Secretary Green Thumb, I’d like you to gather as much information about the state of our agricultural activity as possible. Have a report and any recommendations, if applicable, ready in… two weeks’ time? That’d be the first of December, yes?” I looked to Construct, who nodded in confirmation. “Right. First of December, then, we’ll convene properly.”

I nodded decisively, not leaving it up to discussion. “Secretary Quill…” I paused, then grimaced – Immigration & Citizenship would be tough to settle while Blueblood was MIA, not to mention not nearly as important as some of the things we needed to settle. I waved his inquisitive glance away. “Never mind,” I said. “Just be there, Secretary. And Minister Whisker… work with the Second Minister for now,” I decided. “She already does much of what your responsibilities will end up… ah, subsuming, let’s say, not quite ‘being’ per se. She’ll show you the ropes, I’m sure.”

Construct nodded idly as Whisker trotted over to stand next to her. Decent enough plan, I gathered – Construct already did do much of the work an Interior Minister would have had under their purview, only possible by virtue of fact the actual ‘Second Minister’ position still did not really have any formal responsibilities attached to it, besides being the backup if my heart suddenly popped or something. Again, I considered swapping Construct and Whisker around… then decided the plan I’d already chosen would be just as good: with any luck, some of Construct’s competence would rub off on the newbie, and I’d suddenly have two decent administrators in my cabinet, with Construct freed up for other duties – probably a personal secretary, I mused.

I nodded again, clapping my hands together. “Right,” I said, “I think that about covers it for now. Anything comes up, you let me know; anything you’re not sure about, you let Construct know and she’ll help you out.” I threw each of my subordinates a glance and another nod, picking up my own personal notes off the table and slipping them into a pocket. “Good luck out there.”

“Until next time, First Minister,” said Construct, already leading Minister Whisker away, apparently sharing notes with each other; Green Thumb followed along, while Fountain Quill remained where he was, still engrossed with his own work.

Right, I thought. Future of the Free State’s set now… better start work to make it happen.

I spared one more glance at the warehouse, suppressed a snort, and set off to figure out what in the bloody hell I needed to do now.

24. Deeper Waters IV - Secondary Considerations

I’d never really paid it much mind until now, but this place really was shaping up into a decent little town. A far cry from the solitary cabin in the woods the Free State began as, and definitely far past the half-finished carcasses of high-density residential flats and warehouses and whatever else was required of a functional settlement, the recently-christened Bastion now looked much more like a typical rural backwater village, of the sort you might have found dotted around in any number of places on Equestria – or, indeed, back on Earth. Certainly a far cry from pedigrees such as Manehattan, or Canterlot, and certainly not an image one would conjure at the concept of a nation’s capital… but there would be time for that yet.

November was definitely here in force by this point; the temperature was noticeably less comfortable than even a week ago. Many ponies now donned scarves and hats to ward off the growing chill in the air, which I had found a little off at first – what with their fur, and all. It was mainly the earth ponies among the population, I’d noticed; pegasi, and particularly unicorns, didn’t seem to mind the cool as much, though some did still make the effort. I, myself, did not – I was much more a fan of the cold than the heat, still comfortable in just a shirt and sweatpants, the chill serving mostly to energise me.

Anyway. I was ambling rather more slowly towards my destination than usual today, content to plod along and take in the sights of my surroundings. It was still early on in the day, with a handful of ponies still rushing to where they needed to be for the day throwing me simple glances or quick, jaunty waves of a hoof that I returned only because I might as well have. The path under my feet, already shaping up to be the main through-fare of the town, was already starting to look well-trod, with only the occasional tuft of grass peeking out above the increasingly-packed soil. There were a few more roads dotted around Bastion that were starting to look like that, mostly the ones to the commie-blocks and the sole food distribution building.

I ducked out of the through-fare and onto a decidedly less-worn path, the grass here still somewhat healthy and tall but still visibly worn down. Made a lot of sense, too, since this was what led to what was now Bastion’s first schoolhouse – an unofficial one, yes, but hopefully not for long.

This was perhaps a little too overdue a meeting, seeing exactly what my residents had done to begin educating the youth. Lyra had told me one Sunny Hooves had set something up for the town – and thus, for now, the whole Free State – which, with any luck, I could incorporate into an arm of the administration straight away, plug-n-play style. It wasn’t likely to be anything very comprehensive, or sophisticated, of course; I certainly didn’t expect to see any smartboards and textbooks lying around as my own education provided me. In any case, I was in no position to pass judgment, unless of course there was something truly egregious happening.

It certainly did not look like a typical schoolhouse, I mused as I approached the building in question. At first glance, were it not for the hastily-constructed seven-foot high fencing surrounding it, I would have assumed it was nothing more than one of Bastion’s many miscellaneous warehouses. Then again, right now our endeavours could be called nothing if not slipshod; watching foals running around behind a fenced-off building that had more appearances in common with a wooden aircraft hangar than a public school certainly fit that bill.

The equally-shoddy gate was closed and barred, but fortunately my natural stature let my presence be known to the pony in charge before too long – a neon-green earth pony with an electric-blue mane that I found to be rather eye-watering, who I presumed to be Sunny Hooves; fortunately, much of the effect was mitigated by a little scarf that gave my eyes something else to focus on. I’d have bet very good money on them being some sort of art teacher. The pony in question looked over at me in consternation, though swiftly recognised me and trotted over at once, leaving the foals behind them to continue what I could only assume was their recess.

“Hello?” the pony called out as they neared, the voice and muzzle cluing me in to the mare’s gender.

I raised my hand in a casual greeting. “Good morning, madam. I assume you are Sunny Hooves?”

“That’s me,” she confirmed with a nod. “And you must be First Minister Inns.”

“Quite right,” I said. “Do you have a few minutes to spare? I’m afraid this isn’t quite a social visit.”

“Oh goodness,” said Sunny, concerned, as she reached up to unlatch the bolt on the gate. “I hope I haven’t caused you any trouble, sir, I only figured somepony ought to be teaching the little ones-”

“No, no, there’s nothing wrong, Miss Hooves,” I placated quickly. The gate swinging away and open prompted me to cross the threshold into school grounds with a grateful nod. “If anything, I ought to thank you for saving me the effort of setting something up. Although that is much of the reason I’m here today.”

“Right, I see.” Sunny gestured at me with a hoof to follow, which I did at an appropriately sedate pace. “Well, this school is rather a recent development, First Minister, as you… might guess.” Fortunately, I was already a savvy enough politician to suppress a wince at that. “I am technically a formally qualified educator, though I imagine you won’t care much for Equestrian credentials?”

“Nonsense,” I dismissed. “We’re all Equestrians here, after all. Or rather we used to be. I don’t really care where you learned as long as you did learn. And besides, I haven’t set up an education secretariat yet – why do you think I’m here?”

“…First Minister?” Sunny turned my way at that, though she didn’t stop walking, the beginning notes of alarm having snuck into her body language already. I raised my hands placatingly to try to forestall any escalation.

“Aheh… excuse me, Miss Hooves, perhaps I’m getting ahead of myself here.” We stopped just before the entrance of the ‘schoolhouse,’ Sunny turning around fully to face me head-on, tilting her head quizzically and perking her ears. “I won’t pressure you into anything, I can assure you. And besides, I am sure a secretariat would conflict horribly with an active educator position. But I digress.”

My next proposition only got as far as the inhale, before a shrill screech rang out that made Sunny’s entire head whip around as if she’d been clocked one on the snout – before I could react, she was galloping away towards a congregation of little ponies, no doubt making some trouble. A knowing smile made its way onto me as I leaned against the wall, crossing both my arms and my feet in a pose somewhat reminiscent of a high-school delinquent.

Ah, the joys of youth. I knew damn well education was most likely the single most important long-term policy I was going to have to implement, considering the Free State’s unique circumstances. Children are the future, as the platitude goes, and we had an awful lot of future ahead of us. Better to get it right sooner rather than later, and start raising them right bright and early.

…So long as I kept in mind my own biases on the matter, of course. Discounting my entirely different species, viewpoint, and native plane of reality, the fact was that my own education was… what could charitably be called comprehensive. I knew mathematics to a higher standard than many (perhaps most) Equestrians, likewise with language and the sciences – but I had never once in my life filled out a tax form, or had to budget for groceries, or hammer out a contract. My abortive years in university did at least give me the knowledge of what bureaucratic documents were supposed to look like, but that, of course, translated to exactly zero practical experience. And things like civic responsibility? Jury duty, political understanding, even being taught things like critical thinking, or how to make up one’s own mind amid many different and opposing viewpoints and arguments? Forget it.

Whose idea was it to make me First Minister, again…?

And yes, humans and ponies did have some pretty major fundamental differences that I needed to keep in mind. Their cutie marks, for one thing – I might have been fine with five nine-to-three days a week, but unless that came with complementary 'how to find your destiny in life 101' courses, ponyfolk were going to disapprove something fierce. Herbivores, quadrupeds, herd creatures… et cetera, et cetera. Needless to say, I was probably a poor fit for Interim Secretary for Education.

I rolled my eyes to myself. Old reliable Plan B for dealing with things like that – punt them off to Construct. That mare was going to get a bigger paycheck than I was, if things kept going the way they were. Pony rules for ponies – or rather, my own ideas for a decent curriculum, filtered through a pony perspective. Preferably by someone with experience in the field. Like I should have been running things right from the start, I suppose.

Anyway. Sunny was finally wrapping things up on the schoolyard, apparently having just come out of a scolding of some rascal or another. If it weren’t for the species, and the rather more rustic aesthetic of the surroundings, I could well have imagined myself back at my old primary school. The troublemaker appropriately chastened, Sunny made her way back over to me, an apologetic expression on her face.

“Sorry about that, First Minister,” she called out as she neared. “The older colts and fillies like to make trouble every now and then.”

“I can imagine,” I chuckled. “I’ve fooled around myself plenty of times back when I was a younger chap.” I glanced back at the kids playing around behind her. The larger group of earlier had dissolved into a few small chunks of three and four each, but were already in the process of gravitating together into one again. A flash of brown gave me pause, and I honed in on the sight – the green/yellow on top of it confirmed my suspicion and made me smile. It looked like my daughter was having fun. “I can barely find the time to wrangle two of my own, and you’ve got every foal in the Free State.”

“It can be a lot of work,” Sunny agreed, looking over herself, before snapping back onto me quickly, eyes widened in surprise. “Wait, your own? You mean…”

“Yeah,” I admitted, scratching an itch on my head that definitely did not look sheepish, at all. “Two foals of my own. Who’d have thought, eh? But that isn’t what I’m here for. There’ll be time for that yet, believe me.” I cleared my throat, and adopted a more formal posture. Sunny Hooves followed suit, visibly calming herself down and nodding pensively. “An education secretariat is rather high on my to-do list at present, but I do have priorities both urgent and important besides this. I would be very relieved to hear that I can incorporate your own work into my administration with as little fuss as possible.”

“Of course, First Minister!” Sunny nodded vigorously. “I’d be more than willing to follow your lead in any case. It’s… been strange, teaching without an official curriculum.” An awkward chuckle followed, as the mare shot me an almost guilty look.

“I’m afraid teacher’s discretion might have to remain for some time,” I said. “If you’re not willing to take the secretariat yourself, or you simply don’t have a suitable replacement; I really don’t want to appoint a pony without experience to that particular position. Better they have that background, to my mind, than not, right?”

“…Me?” For the second time, Sunny appeared to be taken by surprise, apparently having forgotten my earlier remark on the same subject. She glanced back at the foals on the field, her ears folding back in a gesture I wasn’t quite sure how to interpret. “In your… cabinet?”

“Ideally, yes,” I said, trying my best to not make it sound like a confession. “You do have the background, and… at the very least some experience in the field, as it were. You’d certainly do a better job of it than I, or my Second Minister, could.” A short pause, courtesy of me letting her interrupt if necessary, went unfilled, leaving me to continue. “We’ve been offering positions to pretty much any, ah, pony that can hold a quill and fill out forms. You’d be in charge of the Free State’s overall education policy; curriculum, locations, personnel, and so on. It won’t be easy work, now or later, but… if you want to change these ponies’ lives – for the better – well. I doubt you could find much better, to be up-front with you.”

Sunny chose not to reply to that, either, still staring out at the little ones. The scratching of the back of my neck, this time, most certainly was sheepish. Probably a bad idea to get between a mare and her foals, huh? For a given value of hers, natch, but… if it worked on Construct…

“Perhaps I can leave you to think about it, yes?” I offered. “I certainly don’t expect an answer right now, let alone today, what with the, ah… rather drastic promotion I am offering you, heh.”

…Okay, this was getting rather uncomfortable now. Perhaps I should have taken the hint and wrapped things up, but I was rather loathe to merely let someone like Sunny Hooves go without a fight. I resisted the urge to clear my throat and gave it one last shot. “If you do decide to take the plunge and lead the shaping of the future of the Free State’s youth, my cabinet will be convening on the first of December, at the office complex near the far end of Mane Street, north-west side. Big four-floor building, can’t miss it. Tell them I sent you.”

Sunny had fortunately, by now, recovered from her catatonia, and wrangled herself to turn and look my way. I couldn’t be sure, guarded as she was, but I reckoned I could spot some small spark of intrigue in her eyes. “…Okay, First Minister. Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

I nodded. “That’s all I can ask of you. Now…” I let my lips curl faintly, and gestured at the foals – who, it seemed, were starting to get a little restless. “I’d better stop taking up your valuable time, Miss Hooves, I’m sure this break of theirs might have dragged on a little too long today.”

“Ah, right, First Minister. Thank you,” she repeated, already starting to shuffle off their way, barely even nodding a goodbye at me. “Until next time- Mystic Eyes! We do not pull other ponies’ manes…”

…Can’t believe I used to be like that, I thought, setting off to my next destination with the beginning wisps of a skip in my steps. Wonder what they’re gonna turn out to be in twenty years’ time…

My next port of call was the sawmill.

As First Minister, ever since the harvest just over a month ago, the vast majority of my time had been spent working on political considerations. The absolute top-level stuff, mainly, to put it simply; to a lesser extent more run-of-the-mill affairs as well, such as foreign affairs and domestic product. I was, after all, only one man, with only so many hours in a day, and I was First Minister: that work could only really have been done by me in either case, and there remained lots of it still.

My skeleton cabinet was already bearing fruit in terms of bridging that deficiency at last; I had entrusted the Secretary for Agriculture to oversee the inspection of the Free State’s crop fields and farming complexes in my stead, hopefully more thoroughly than I could myself, freeing my time up for other pursuits – such as the one I was now ensconced in.

The Free State’s primary sector might have been expanding at a good pace now (with any luck), but our secondary was nowhere near the same level, not in size or growth. To my knowledge, at any rate – which was an equally poor state of affairs, one I needed to rectify post-haste. The sawmill was, again to my knowledge, our sole site that could even charitably be called a manufactory of any description, that being turning timber into more usable lumber and processed wood items. Hardly an industrial backbone, but our territory was over ninety percent forest, so…

The sawmill turned out to be more heavily populated than the last time I’d visited. A surprisingly large pile of fallen trees had been stacked behind the building, both sides of the pile visible behind its front profile. Even as I watched, an octet of earth ponies carefully transferred an entire tree, about thirty metres tall and half a metre diameter, into the collection, somewhere near the top. One of them noticed my incredulous stare, and waved at me, which I couldn’t help but return. I had some experience with lugging wood around the place from back home – not at that scale, obviously, but it still wasn’t a duty I envied. Very impressive to see nonetheless, though.

The interior, or what passed for it, was deceptively sparse for how busy it really was. Two halves of a tree even larger than the one I’d just seen moved were being pushed my way through the massive saw; with a heave, the ponies at the other end shoved the wood the rest of the way and through the saw. Both halves, now fully separate, clonked onto the floor on either side of the saw. In the corner – or rather, the entire right side of the building, taking up as much floor space as they dared – a few teams of carpenters were hard at work putting together something or another, I really couldn’t tell from here.

Things certainly were looking good here, I figured. The noise of the mill, and the industriousness of the workers, meant I hadn’t been spotted yet, though if I kept getting in the way here I no doubt would have been booted out post-haste. Indeed, even just showing up here and gawking for thirty seconds told me a few things. Chief among them that our…

Can I even really call it that yet? It’s only the one saw here still… I’d rather not cut down the whole damn White Tail Woods for quick paydays!

…Our soon-to-be lumber mill, with any luck, was churning out processed – useful – goods at… perhaps not in great quantities, but certainly at a rapid pace. These ponies knew what they were doing, which implied that they could teach others what they were doing.

And that meant we could pretty quickly set up new sawmills and carpentries, and train new carpenters.

Not that it would do us any good in the present, of course. Without machine parts, or any access to metal supplies of any sort, we continued to be shit out of luck on actually doing so. Tough to do anything with wooden saws and wooden axes, after all. Our forestry industry had hit a bottleneck…

“Mister Inns!” A familiar southern drawl burst forth from the pony I’d inadvertently stuck my gaze onto; he got up, making sure to put his tools and chunk of wood away safely, and trotted over to me, offering a hoof. “Well darn, if it ain’t been a hot minute since Ah’ve seen ya!”

I chuckled, a little awkwardly, though shaking his hoof with considerable enthusiasm. “Afternoon, Steady. Been meaning to check up on you for a while now, to be honest. Did you move or something? Tough to remember an address when there aren’t any yet, you know.”

Steady Hooves laughed as well, more naturally, ducking to the side to let another pony, a unicorn with a vaguely disapproving aura about her, pass by. I stepped to the side myself, earning a nod from her. “S’pose ya got a lotta work on yer hooves still, eh? Or… those whatchamacallits ya have instead’a hooves.”

“Hands.”

“Yeah, those things.” I snorted. “But anyhow, what brings ya here, Inns? Ya didn’t come here jus’ ta watch us work, didja? Or ta get in th’ way?”

I gestured somewhat vaguely at the pile of what could only be called stuff at his workstation, set somewhat further off from the rest of the woodworkers. “Only partly. I wanted to get a sense of how things are coming along here, about how much you’re making here, any difficulties or problems, that kind of thing. Wouldn’t mind catching up with you, either, Steady.”

“Great,” drawled Steady, trotting back over to his work. I followed along obediently, curious. “Well, far as problems go, we’re all hunky-dory over here. Got plenty’a wood comin’ in ta our saw, an’ got plenty’a wood goin’ out ta yer storehouses.” Steady got busy in his work as he spoke, lifting his personal hunk of wood in one hoof and a little whittling knife in another in a feat of acrobatics that would have been a lot more impressive if he hadn’t placed a stool down to rest his barrel on beforehand.

I watched on, impassive. “So this is your day job now? What are you working on, even?”

“’S a bust,” he said, waving the wood in the air slightly, before taking the knife to it and starting to whittle. “Not sure’a who jus’ yet. Guess Ah’ll find out along th’ way.” I wasn’t too fazed by the sentiment. God knew I got like that a few times, back in the day, artsy type that I once was, briefly. Instead, I nodded along in understanding.

“This what your boss asked you to do?” I asked.

Steady only scoffed. “Boss? Heh! Sure be nice if’n we had a boss ta whip some’a th’ lazyhooves over there back inta shape.” He jerked his head over to the far corner, where I saw two ponies… ah, decidedly uninterested in their vocation. I hurriedly averted my eyes. “Nah, Ah’m doin’ this jus’ ta amuse mahself. Keep mah talent steady, ya know? Heh, get it?”

The stallion promptly lost himself in chuckling to his own joke, to which I could only roll my eyes. “Good one,” I deadpanned. “So a non-negligible part of the Free State’s total industrial output is going to a pet project of yours instead of anything actually useful.”

“Well what else are ya gonna do with it?” he asked, turning his head to give me the stink-eye briefly. “Gonna keep filling yer storehouses with wooden beams an’ see ‘em rot away afore yer own eyes? An’ how many houses ya gonna build here, anyhow?”

I blinked. Somehow, a snap retort didn’t come to me, despite the rather lacklustre point being made. Lumber was objectively more useful, particularly in our present circumstances, than wooden carvings. It certainly wasn’t the case that the wood was being wasted, though, or that we didn’t have enough of it.

“…You’re just gonna keep that thing, then?” I asked instead. “When it’s done? Seems like a bit of a waste, doesn’t it?”

Steady scoffed again. “Ya rather Ah sell it? Ta who? An’ fer what?”

“Equestria?” came the (to me) obvious reply. “And for… money?”

And somehow, that was enough to give him pause, turning over a second time to look at me, completely mystified. “Fer Equestrian bits? What good are they gonna do us here?”

“Aside from the fact I plan to accept bits in the Free State, you mean?” I asked right back. “I’m aware there’s plenty still that’s available in Equestria and not here. Free State currency is essentially just calories at the moment.” I tactfully declined to mention the implication of essentially taxing the agricultural sector of my nation one hundred percent of its production. “Las Pegasus isn’t that far from here.”

“Ya want me ta sell sculptures ta Shallow Shade?” he asked, even more incredulous than before. “Ya serious?” I bit my lip and nodded hesitantly in acceptance of the point. I’d been to Las Pegasus a few times before, mostly to offload my older and crapper hooch – but, of course, I could never enter the city itself, for reasons that should be pretty obvious. Instead I had to content myself with the considerably… less prestigious community sprung up underneath ‘the resort capital of Equestria,’ or perhaps more importantly the less wealthy community.

“No,” I admitted. “Not Shallow Shade. Somewhere it might actually sell. Some rich idiot somewhere would throw gold bullion at you for a stack of wood figurines, I’m sure.”

“Uh-huh,” he drawled. “An’ yer jus’ tellin’ me this outta th’ goodness’a yer own heart, are ya?”

“No,” I admitted again, just as easily. “Believe it or not, but politicians have ulterior motives. I do intend to instate a tax system, just the same as any functioning government. Equestrian cash is, right now, one of my only options to expand the Free State’s industrial base. Besides turning us into a breadbasket by slash-and-burning half our nation into plantations, anyway.”

“Hmh.” That dismissive grunt was, in retrospect, a much more cordial response than I should have expected from a stallion who’d arrived here specifically, in large part, to escape ruinous government overreach into his wallet. I had enough sense in the moment to not push on the subject any further.

“Alright,” I said. “Maybe I ought to find you some time you’re not working, yeah?” An idea suddenly hitting me made me jerk. “Oh, hey, come to think of it, I don’t suppose you could find some time free on the twenty-ninth?”

“Twenty-ninth?” he parroted, his guard lowering at the non-sequiteur.

“Sure. Might as well invite you as well, you and your foals. You know how birthday parties go, right, they get all boring if there’s only adults hanging around.”

“…What are ya talkin’ about, mister Inns?”

I huffed out a breath of amusement. Really, I was only ever bringing it on myself to clarify my own vague as fuck statements – but hey, I hadn’t spoken to Steady for a hot minute, in his own words, and catching up with someone I… wouldn’t mind calling a friend was something I could absolutely take some time to do. I shuffled over to his side and sat down cross-legged, smiling knowingly almost more to myself than him.

“Alright, alright, let me start from the beginning, I guess -”

“Where else?”

“Very funny. So, all the way back when I returned from Canterlot after the Summer Sun Celebration, you remember what I did with that crowd? Well, as I was counting the newcomers…”

The next notable event of the week came less than twenty-four hours later, right in the comfort of my own home. I was enjoying (of course) a lovely cup of morning coffee along with Lyra, who was in the middle of an increasingly-dull breakfast of leafy greens. My two foals had already eaten thanks to her own efforts, and had run off quickly on what I could only assume was another attempt to find their destiny and have fun while doing so.

I’d been on the periphery of a small-talk conversation with her, not really paying much attention while I was still waking myself up. Fortunately, Lyra was similarly disconnected, and didn’t take offense to my non-committal grunts and clipped replies, if she even deigned to notice. Quite likely something was on her mind, just as things were on mine, though I assumed hers was about my son’s imminent ninth birthday (and fuck me dead if that wasn’t a phrase I thought I’d ever get to express back on Earth, let alone here in the Free State), and thus wasn’t quite worth bringing up for debate.

Rapping on my front door rather quickly focused both our minds away from whatever portents of doom we might have been considering, as both our heads swivelled over to the source in unison. Lyra tried to choke out something that might have been words of confusion had a chunk of her meal not gotten in the way. She tried again after swallowing the offending vegetable. “Who could that be?” she wondered out loud.

“I dunno,” I muttered, glancing out the window as if that would offer some insight on the query. “I’m certainly not expecting anyone right now… suppose that means it ain’t good news.”

With that realisation tucked away in my head, I sighed bitterly, set my mug down on the counter, and steeled myself to endure yet another set of calamities that most likely Construct was about to hand me on a depleted-uranium platter, as I tried my best to not look like I was stomping my way over to the door.

Lo and behold, Construct was standing right there as I swung the front door open – with a unicorn stallion stood behind and slightly to her right, which I didn’t recognise.

“First Minister,” greeted Construct cordially. “Good morning.”

“I doubt it is, if you’ve come looking for me,” I replied, glancing at the stranger tagging along with her, who returned my gaze with a faint, yet unmistakably disdainful, grimace.

“I’ll be glad to prove you wrong, in that case,” she said. “You asked me to notify you if I ever found a suitable candidate for an open position in your cabinet, is that correct?”

I couldn’t quite remember if I had done or not, but it sounded like a decent enough policy to have at the moment, so I went with it. “Sure did. You stumble across an equine übermensch while I wasn’t looking or something?”

“Something like that.” Construct stepped off to the side, allowing the unicorn to step forth and bow his head, clearly for the sake of politeness than out of actual respect.

“Good morning, First Minister Inns,” he said, standing back up straight and eyeing me coolly. “My name is High Roller. As your Second Minister has explained to me, you are in desperate need of competent subordinates.”

I resisted the urge to shoot Construct a look. “…Yes, that’s correct.”

“I have unfortunately been forced to leave Equestria due to recent events,” he continued evenly. “Along with a small number of my closest allies and supporters. I have reason to believe the backlash of my departure will follow me. If you are able to shield me from it, I will gladly work for you, First Minister Inns.”

My lips pulled into a thin line. At least this High Roller didn’t waste time dancing around the issue. I slowly closed my front door behind me. “What sort of backlash are we talking about here?”

High Roller grimaced. “I… will admit that I may perhaps have committed an indiscretion of overreach. One of my long-time opponents used the opportunity to attempt to disgrace me as totally as was possible. Their mostly baseless allegations… succeeded in doing so, to a rather frightening extent. I had no choice but to flee for my life.”

“For your life?” I parroted. “Why would someone want a random pony dead for making a mistake?”

That seemed to incense the good stallion, very briefly, before apparently recalling something that instead drove him to disappointment. “Ah, yes, forgive me. Perhaps you might know me better as Lord High Roller. That is, the former Lord High Roller, since I daresay my title means less than nothing in Equestria now.”

My interest was caught at once. I inhaled audibly. “Lord High Roller… I’m afraid that doesn’t ring a bell, but I can believe your being driven to flee to the Free State at the hooves of your peers.” I let an expression of disdain cross my face. It was hardly a secret that I held the idea of aristocracy in contempt, after all. “I imagine you’re running from Heartstrings’ lot, too?”

The unicorn hesitated, before slowly nodding. “…Most likely, yes. I imagine I have caused the House of Lords some embarrassment by my actions. That is plenty to earn his ire.”

I nodded in sympathy. “Well, with a story like yours, I’d be remiss to turn you away. Not to mention a bloody hypocrite. What, exactly, can you do for the Free State?”

“I’ve run the treasury department of the Las Pegasus city council for over a decade, First Minister, and I was good at it.” The tone he used gave the impression that he’d just massively understated the notion. “Your Second Minister told me you are looking for a minister of the treasury? Without meaning to boast, a position like that would be foal’s play for a stallion of my experience.”

I smiled faintly. For all my faults, I could recognise a sales pitch when I heard one, but I was in the exact precise position to take the bait, hook, line and sinker. “I’m sure it would be,” I replied. “Very well. Congratulations on your new post, Minister High Roller.” I reached out with a hand, and shook his hoof. A brief smile of satisfaction leapt up on him before he smothered it down to an impassive stare. “I’ll be convening my cabinet on the first of December, at our…” I looked to Construct helplessly, who only shrugged. “Ah, at our hall of government, let’s call it for now. Big four-floor building at the far end of Mane Street, I’m sure someone here can show you the way.”

“Thank you, First Minister,” he said, nodding politely. “I look forward to working with you.”

“Likewise,” I returned, watching as High Roller about-faced and strode off, his horn lighting up and a scroll and quill floating over from… God only knew where he’d stuffed that on him. I turned my attention back to Construct, my lips pursing. “So, Second Minister. Thoughts?”

“Technically, Minister High Roller was in charge of Shallow Shade’s treasury department,” she said immediately. “Though that doesn’t diminish his experience much, a decade and some leading a financial department of a considerably-sized town is still far more than anypony else in the Free State has.”

“…I was more concerned about his connections to Equestrian nobility,” I said quietly. “Lord High Roller being so high up in my cabinet… even if his title is worthless now, ponies aren’t going to be happy with the aristos creeping into the Free State already.”

“He has made it clear he is more than willing to renounce his title publicly, in case his fugitive status is not enough to convince the population,” offered Construct.

I pursed my lips. “Mmm. That… probably won’t be necessary, actually,” I soon relented. “His lordship is almost certainly already forfeit, if not by his… indiscretions -” I rolled my eyes “- then by him serving in the government of a foreign nation. Assuming that, in itself, isn’t a criminal offense.”

“As you say, First Minister,” said Construct.

“Keep an eye on him in any case,” I said, with a dismissive wave of my arm. “Aristos, you know how it is.”

Construct actually cracked a smirk at that. “Yes, First Minister. Is there anything else?”

Now that she mentioned it… “Actually, yes. Do you know who’s in charge of operations at the sawmill? I spoke with Steady there yesterday, and I got the impression that… nopony is.”

“I…” She frowned, tipping her head downwards, falling uncharacteristically silent. “I… don’t know, First Minister. I asked Shuffle to supervise things there, but my old workers will be packing up and returning to Equestria very soon, and I put her in charge of them when you gave me my position.”

I put the pieces together myself. “And she neglected to hand off her oversight to anyone else, or to mention her conflicting duties to you. Right.”

“Sorry, First Minister,” she said, but anything else she was about to say I forestalled with a raised hand.

“Don’t worry, Second Minister, it’s not your fault. Can you take over that work? At least until you find someone better to do it, at least.”

“Of course, First Minister,” she nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Right.” I fell silent for a moment, trying to wrack my brain for anything else I needed her to know – nothing came to mind, so I ended up shrugging helplessly. “Thanks, Construct. If that’s everything, you’re free to go.”

Construct nodded silently, about-facing in almost exactly the same way as High Roller did, though she spread her wings and took to the skies, blowing cold wind in my face and ruffling my hair, which I had to smooth back down with a grumble.

Hmph. Another bust, I think. I couldn’t shake the feeling I was missing something. I probably needed to focus more on what was going on with our industry, and I probably needed to vet my brand spanking new Minister of the Treasury a little more thoroughly than with just an ‘okay, have fun’ and a smack on the bum, or rather flank, but… nothing was coming to me except the ever-present pressure to continue running the country. I really did not want to ignore that, just in case there was some nasty disaster coming up that my new former noble subordinate was about to cause, or allow to happen, or whatever.

I shook my head. Hypotheticals weren’t going to get me anywhere. Better to simply keep it in mind and find out if there was anything wrong on the sly, and sort it out then. I was already going to have a fun time justifying this to my people, no need to fling more shit into a clogged toilet. I’d asked Construct to check on him, that was probably going to be more than enough, going by her ongoing competence.

Anyway, I’m wasting time. Daylight was still burning as I stood and pondered things in front of my house, doing bugger-all. I shook my head forcefully – goddamn it, my coffee’s gonna be stone cold by now, fuck – and spun around to finish my morning routine, hoping and praying it would help settle and focus my mind on the job.

25. Deeper Waters V - The Personal and the Professional

Writing out ‘Happy Birthday Bowmound’ in huge letters on sheets of cloth was not nearly as off-putting as I had expected it to feel. Never mind the fact I was celebrating my child's birthday, I was more immediately concerned by my near-total lack of artistic ability; I didn't have the time or the ability to fix any mistakes I could have made to make any. Nevertheless, I remained determined and confident.

Lyra, my lovely roommate, was helping out in my efforts, copying my own work on a sheet of her own, though with considerably more grace than I could manage thanks to her telekinesis, which I was most certainly not jealous of, no sir. One would be in the living room, one in the kitchen, and another was going to stay in the hallway – the three most common places in which folk tended to congregate in my house. I'd considered a fourth outside, but figured that would have embarrassed Bowmound. So, three it was.

My own parents had done this particular song and dance more than a few times in my childhood. Of course, they didn't go to the effort of hand-crafting our decorations, and balloons and party streamers and bunting and whatnot were not going to be in my own repertoire; I only had ink and cloth to work with, and not even so much of it. There was still a certain charm to it, though, I thought.

It was the morning before, November twenty-eight – a brisk morning indeed, judging by the frost I'd seen on the grass just before dawn. The foals were away at school for today, letting the two of us work in peace and secrecy, at least for the morning. Afterward, either we were going to have to chase them away, hope they run off by themselves, or more likely wait until they were put to bed. Couldn't spoil the surprise, after all.

We had been working in a comfortable silence, besides me outlining what I was looking for in our decorations and miscellaneous other things – it was a lot easier to plan a party, as it turned out, especially since the bulk of it was only going to take a few hours. The cake was going to be the most impressive part of it, honestly, especially considering I'd traded a favour to Celestia for it – who might as well have been the Devil himself, in terms of dangerous people to owe one.

"Adam?" Lyra's voice broke me out of the trance I'd worked myself into. I paused my handiwork instantly, looking over to her – seeing that she'd already finished her banner where I had only gotten to the H in 'birthday.' (Remember - not jealous.)

"You're done already?" I asked rhetorically. "Be a dear and get started on the third one for me, would you? I'll finish about the same time you will."

"You got it, Adam."

So, yeah. Things were going pretty well, all things considered. I wasn't going to bet that they were also going well beyond my own line of sight, but there you go. Now wasn't the time to worry about work, in any case. I was a big fan of free time – even if my available activities for recreation were a lot more limited than they were back in the day.

Naturally, my tempting of fate immediately preceded a knock on the door – because of course it did. I rolled my eyes, barely even surprised any more at the sheer hilarity of it all, and stood up, popping my back audibly. "I'll get it," I called to Lyra. "Just keep going. If I don't come back, finish mine off too, please."

"Can do," came the reply. Thus sufficiently prepared, I ambled over to the front door and cracked it open, scowl at the ready but not quite visible yet.

It was Construct. Both concern and exasperation was visible all over her – head tilted down, vague frown, widened stance, eyebrows creased. "First Minister," she greeted. "Princess Celestia has arrived in the Free State."

It took me a moment to parse – so soon? Pretty quickly, though, a wide, happy smile broke out on my face. "Excellent! Where is she now?"

"In front of the government hall," she replied pointedly.

…Oh. That's not good, actually. Foreign royalty hanging around a capitol building, especially foreign royalty the locals hold no warm feelings for? Trouble couldn't be far away, and no mistake. Particularly if Blueblood was in tow – which obviously he would be. I needed to get there, stat.

"Very good, Second Minister," I said. "Let's go."

"Me?" Construct put a hoof on her chest.

"That's right." I set off without waiting for a follow-up. "As my second, and without a Minister for the Exterior for the time being, you will need to receive foreign dignitaries with me."

"I was hoping to oversee the sawmill administration process today, First Minister," she protested, even as she cantered up to my side and gave me the closest thing to a stink-eye that she dared.

"Which you will continue to have time for, Second Minister, since I do not expect the Princess to stay a dignitary for very long." Since I hadn't heard anything blowing up in either Equestria or the Free State, the pomp and circumstance of a formal visit might well only have lasted for a sentence or two, and I was sure Celestia was going to have a lot of questions for me, considering.

"...Very well, First Minister," she acknowledged, however grudgingly.

Fuck's sake. Even at a time like this, I can't catch a break.

Soon enough, we were nearing the government hall. The building itself was one of the most impressive in Bastion – damning with faint praise as that may be, but it was true. A trio of gilded carriages were stationed close by, in view of the building but not quite parked by it, as if they were afraid themselves. I see our reputation precedes us. The thought forced me to suppress a snort.

What shifted my mood the most was the sight of a growing crowd of ponies starting to gather around the building, gawking at the sight of the three carriages that were probably worth more than the homes they lived in. Many, many of those stares were… not friendly. Some of them were directed at me, somewhat warmer but – considerably more frighteningly – a lot more evaluating at the same time.

I raised my head and took a breath, carefully schooling my expression into a stony neutral. “Construct,” I murmured quietly. “Where are they?”

“In the carriages, First Minister,” was the apparently obvious reply. I glanced down at her with a fleeting intrigue; the Second Minister had apparently chosen to follow my lead, drawing herself up tight with an air of dignified nonchalance about her that I damn near thought could have been real had I not spotted the very tips of her primaries twitching uncontrollably.

I took another breath, returning my attention to the visitors. No carriage had disgorged its complement yet, allowing me to organise my thoughts and concoct a plan of action. Last time Celestia came for a visit, it was during a crisis that restricted the movement of the Free State’s residents essentially completely, which meant that visit was, for all intents and purposes, entirely behind closed doors. This time, the crowd around us precluded such privacy – at best, our greetings would be public knowledge. At worst… everything would be public knowledge.

Celestia and I were good friends. Good enough to make quips regarding sexual tension between us to each other. Considering the situation, this was a very bad thing. In public, I had to at least make a show of keeping the Princess at arm’s length, if only for the sake of representing the wishes of my people. If Cel tried to reach out and feel me up in front of what was shaping up to be a crowd of at least a hundred ponies… Christ, I couldn’t even imagine what the reaction to that would have been.

…In hindsight, inviting foreign royalty to my child’s birthday party might not have been a sound political decision to make. So much for going our own way, when I apparently couldn’t even be trusted to oversee a single child’s celebration, much less the daily workings of a nation – admittedly more of a city-state – of thousands. I thanked every single deity I could name that I had the absent-mindedness to forget to seek out Night Gown to invite her to the party as well – although that might also have been because we weren’t that closely acquainted in the first place, I genuinely couldn’t remember which reason was the correct one.

“First Minister,” prompted Construct, after a good few minutes of me seemingly standing still and staring off into space. “I believe the Equestrian delegation is waiting for you to approach first, before they disembark.”

“I know that,” I replied reflexively. I didn’t, actually, but no-one needed to know that. I did now, anyway – and besides, letting the Equestrians stew by themselves for a while might even send a good message to the masses, that I wasn’t so eager to dance to their tune, as it were, and rush over at once like a good little lapdog. Perhaps staring at the carriages mere dozens of metres away from them might have been more of a snub than I’d intended it to be, or more aggressive, but I knew Celestia, at least, wouldn’t take offense. Blueblood might have raised a stink, but he didn’t matter a rat’s arse compared to her.

I only spent a few more moments stood still like a pillock, long enough to make it clear to Construct that I was (now) doing it deliberately, before finally striding forth to meet the delegation half-way. On cue, two of the carriages’ doors opened, both the ones facing closest to me – Celestia and Blueblood were in one, and a handful of other, somewhat less opulently dressed ponies were in the other. Only the former deigned to meet us, Blueblood unexpectedly leading the way for his Princess, both of them honed in on me in a way that I had to try to not interpret as negative.

I walked calmly, slowly, enough for Construct to not even need to trot to keep up. The two arrivals did the same. I could feel the eyes on me, all around, watching. Judging. They probably wouldn’t hear us too clearly, unless they got a little close for comfort or we started shouting at each other, but I couldn’t be comfortable in that assumption – here was a time to act the part of First Minister Inns of the Free State, whose people would literally rather have starved than accept help from the Equestria they ran to me to escape in the first place.

We stopped a few paces away from each other. Blueblood stepped off to the side, letting the Princess step up and peer at me. Our eyes were level, for which I was suddenly and powerfully grateful for – even more so when Celestia deigned to bow her head to me first, a small yet friendly smile on her muzzle.

“First Minister Inns of the Free State. It is once again my sincere pleasure to arrive in your illustrious nation.” The words were considerably more honeyed than I’d expected them to be; Cel was really laying it on thick for me today. I resisted the urge to swallow or wipe my brow, trying to avoid darting my gaze to my peripheral vision at the sea of faces watching our interaction. Blueblood, I noticed, was not so subtle, turning his head around just enough to be noticeable and glancing around.

I met Celestia’s profuse bootlicking with a simple, detached stare. “Princess Celestia Morningstar de Hemera, the Illuminant, of the Principality of Equestria.” I spoke simply, as if I was introducing an executive in a stuffy boardroom rather than greeting a close friend. “Welcome to the Free State.” My simple, almost not even cordial greeting seemed to deflate the Sun Princess, rising back to her full height and trying very, very hard to hide her disappointment and confusion behind a veil of regal confidence. “As you can see, our circumstances have… changed somewhat since your last visit.” I knew that was referring to both our lack of famine and my imminent parenting rite of passage, but there was another way Celestia could have interpreted that – a very bad way. “Unfortunately, I am quite busy at the moment, so I must insist on cutting our formalities short and moving straight to business.”

“Of course, First Minister,” replied Celestia coolly, apparently having picked up the correct subtext judging by the lack of a more intense reaction.

“Mmm. Second Minister?” I turned to glance half-way down at her, still keeping my head mostly facing the two Equestrians.

“Yes, First Minister?”

I gestured to Blueblood, who was apparently startled by being involved in affairs so quickly. “Please inform the good ambassador of the changes in the Free State that he requires to be appraised of. After that, you are free to resume your usual duties. Also, make sure he is at our cabinet meeting on the first of December – and expected there.”

“Yes, First Minister.”

I waited a beat, still staring out the side of my eyes at her, until she somewhat sheepishly got the hint, and practically dragged Blueblood away by the horn off to the government hall to get started as quickly as possible.

Only Celestia and I were left standing in the middle of the street. The crowd had grown slightly since we’d begun, slightly more packed up but still a respectable distance away. I looked over at her, contemplating how to word my next utterances, and make it look and sound natural.

She beat me to it, though. “…Shall we retire to our own business, First Minister?”

I blinked, my train of thought derailing at the loss of initiative, but I recovered quickly and nodded once. “Yes,” I agreed, already spinning on my heel; the mass of ponies behind me split at once, revealing the packed earth beneath like Moses parting the Red Sea. “Let’s. Please, follow me.”

…

“To be honest, I can’t believe this is the first time you’ve been in this room,” I told her, making a show of sitting on the edge of my bed. “I’d have thought you’d at least have gone in here for a look. Maybe in an inspection, before I started living here. Not even once?”

“Not once,” confirmed Celestia, glancing around my bedroom. “Bedchambers are a private space. I would not wish to intrude on that, without one’s permission.”

It was permission I’d finally, apparently, given to her, having invited her to partake in the upcoming festivities of my household – and Christ if I wasn’t constantly finding new phrases to weird myself the hell out by using them correctly – as a personal favour, instead of a political, diplomatic, or professional obligation.

Celestia had been rather taken by how much my home seemed to have changed since her last visit, even though to me it looked just the same as it always did. Perhaps it was just the couch in the living room now much more obviously looking like it had pulled double-duty as a bed, with its lasting indents – sans the sheets and pillows, now, though; ever since I’d moved my office necessities over to the government hall, the spare room now belonged to my two foals, where they now slept instead. She saw the three banners hanging up in their places, too, courtesy of Lyra – who didn’t seem very pleased by the intrusion of the Princess into our home. Neither pony had commented on their respective points of interest.

“Bedchambers.” I snorted. “Right. The same way I called my foals’ bedroom my ‘office,’ back before the government hall was finished.”

Celestia looked back over at me. “Ah, yes, Blueblood and your letter both mentioned foals to me.”

“Sure did,” I nodded. “Lyra’s idea. Two foals were among the first wave, all the way at the beginning, orphans. Street urchins, I think, I… I don’t think it’s my place to ask. They- well.” A thin smirk came upon me. “Story of my life, huh? ‘They didn’t have anywhere else to go.’ So I… well, I let ‘em sleep in my house, but Lyra took it on herself to, er… raise them, I suppose.”

“Herself?” parroted Celestia, moving over to the bed and hopping on. “Not you as well?”

I scooted over to the corner to give her some more room, to which Celestia frowned, but still lied down. “Heh. Guess that’s another thing I can write on the list of ‘things I was given that I didn’t want at first but eventually warmed up to.’ First Minister-ship, Free State, Lyra, now the foals. And no, to answer your question. Not me. Initially, at least. I was quite against the idea when she brought it up. I had a lot on my shoulders at the time, like the idea of seven hundred people, including the foals and myself, all starving to death. Not to mention… I didn’t really consider myself a role model parent, per se. Still don’t, even.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“Lyra would have pressed the issue until I gave in,” I replied smoothly. Judging by the slightly guilty look on her face, I thought she caught the hidden barb just fine. “Besides, they really did see me in that role all by themselves, and I don’t want to be a guy who breaks the hearts of literal orphans. And now that the Free State is… or, well, I guess was out of its crisis, I figured I’d actually be able to devote time properly to them. Y’know, without worrying about famine and shit.”

“And now here you are,” she finished.

“Yeah.” I nodded absently, looking out at the door to my bedroom. “Here I am. Never thought my life would have gone the way it did six months ago, let me tell you. And now I’ve invited a Princess to my kid’s birthday.” I snorted. “Sounds a little ridiculous, doesn’t it?”

“Less than you might believe,” she replied.

“Mmm. I guess so, considering you’re here in the first place.”

“And you said they were… ‘street urchins?’” she asked next, tilting her head.

I nodded. “Yeah. Maybe you don’t have that term in Equestria. Basically children who grow up on the streets. No parents, no roof over their heads at night unless they’re lucky.” I sighed heavily, dropping my hands onto the edge of my bed and bunching up the bedsheets. “I’m glad I at least helped two kids out of that sort of life. Even if they never should have been in that position to begin with.”

Seeing my mood rapidly deteriorating, Celestia tactfully decided to change the subject to something completely different. “So you’ve officially adopted them?”

“…Uh, no,” I said, rather awkwardly – then hastened to clarify, realising how that might have sounded. “Uh, I mean, not yet, there’s still so much to do and I’ve got a whole country to build up from scratch still, I don’t have time to focus on an adoption apparatus for the Free State when we still don’t even have an official police force yet-”

“Be calm, Adam,” soothed Celestia. “I am not passing judgment on you. I merely wished to know if you are providing for them as a father figure – or a father directly.”

…Uh-huh. Sure. “Sure I am,” I said, just barely heatedly. “They’re my foals. Not by blood, sure, but if that matters to you then you can kindly stick your head up your arse and choke yourself to death with your own kegel muscles.”

“That does not matter to me,” said Celestia, ignoring my rather colourful outburst. “I’d simply figured… well… I was almost afraid to ask.”

“What?” I asked, amused. “You think I made some the old-fashioned way? Please. I’d probably have died alone even on Earth. I am literally the only human being on the planet, and I strongly suspect not even your magic is powerful enough to let me conceive… what, centaurs? Satyrs? Something like that.”

That little comment made Celestia rather upset, I saw, even where suggesting she clench herself decapitated didn’t. Were centaurs taboo in Equestria?

“Why do you say you would die alone?”

…Oh. Probably shouldn’t have said that one out loud.

“Because it’s true,” I said, flatly. “I ain’t a beacon of sunshine, Princess. I’m a little bit like a hedgehog – with all the warm, inviting personality of eighteen feet of concertina wire. Either you’ll be infantry and my barbs’ll cut you up, or you’ll be a tank and crush me underneath your treads. Besides, it’s already happened once.”

“What do you mean? You’ve died?”

I chuckled. “No, no, nothing like that. I mean… God, it’s been such a long time.” I quieted down, lost in memories. “I used to be sweet on a girl, once. Back in secondary school. Well, I had crushes before, but that was the first time I confessed to it. I’d told her I had a crush on someone a few days back, over text – like a magic scroll,” I explained, “that burns whatever’s written on it onto another scroll over long distances – anyway. She wanted to know who it was.” I laughed. “I don’t think she expected it to be her. But, well, it was.” I shook my head. “I know I definitely didn’t expect her to tell me she liked me too.

“It was… good. Well, it was my first time in a romantic relationship, and I use that term very generously, so I guess I can’t really compare. But… I liked it. Had something to look forward to in school, I guess, besides learning new things. Heh, I was such a sap. So hopeless. Sappy romance bullshit was something I never was really good at, even though… well. Everyone has weaknesses, I suppose.”

I exhaled. The time had dulled the sting, and in hindsight it really was much more embarrassing than sad, or impressive, but it was still something that had irrevocably changed me as a person. I continued, toneless. “It didn’t last. It just sort of… stopped, one day. I didn’t know why. And I didn’t like that very much. I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with her – but, then again, that’s how crushes work, isn’t it? That… that hurt. I decided I didn’t like being hurt. I wasn’t ever gonna get hurt again. I got very, very good at being alone without being lonely.” I snorted. “Guess that’s where I got my habit of talking to myself.

“Anyway. Turns out she was ill. Mentally, I mean. I think it was an actual, official diagnosis. We were still good friends, make no mistake. I didn’t hold a grudge. Helped that we didn’t talk in person; she’d moved away before I got the chance to. Didn’t stop us from slowly drifting apart anyway.

“It probably wasn’t going to last either way,” I said. “I’d have moved back at the end anyway; I wasn’t sure about my chances at any foreign universities, ‘cause of some extenuating circumstances that screwed the whole year up, and my parents would probably have taken me back home regardless of if I managed to get in anywhere or not. Or if not, I’d have gone with them myself.

“Anyway. That taught me a good few things. Most important was this: don’t get too close. It’ll just hurt me.” I looked at her, sadly. “I always was a sensitive sort of chap. Once bitten, twice shy. Six times… even just a sudden movement will set me off these days.”

I abruptly ran out of things to say. I could only stare at my feet. Celestia picked up the slack.

“And… you consider ‘dying alone’ to be preferable to that?”

“Not like I had anything else going for me,” I retorted. “I’ve never even been kissed. It would have been easy. All I’d have had to do was… nothing. More of the same as now.”

“You?” Celestia was incredulous. “Never kissed?”

“Yeah, me, never kissed,” I snapped. “Me, with the body of an intellectual, the mind of a damp bag of cement, and the soul of a cantankerous psychopath. I ain’t exactly Casanova over here.”

“You sell yourself too short,” declared Celestia. “There is somepony out there who would accept you for who you are.”

“Oh yeah,” I sneered. “Everyone knows all the girls want bad boys. I guess, in a sense, ‘damaged’ is a pretty similar word to ‘bad.’”

“That’s not what I mean.” I’d found, to my surprise, that Celestia had closed enough distance to be able to wrap a wing around me. She pulled on me, with enough force to make me actually slide a little bit closer to her. “You do sell yourself too short. You have a good soul, Adam. It is plain to see. You don’t have to cover it up with… muck, and dirt. Just let it shine. Somepony was bound to see through it some day.

“You were right in calling it a crush,” she said, staring right into my eyes. “That isn’t love. What love is, is seeing all the dirt and muck and imperfections that makes one who they are, and being with them anyway. What love is, is wanting them to see the muck on their soul, and helping them wash it off, so that they can shine all the brighter for it. What love is… is sacrificing yourself for their sake, and they for yours. That is what love is.

“When somepony loves you, you won’t be able to drive them away, even if you want to. They’ll just keep coming back, again and again… Love is something that is given, whether you want it or not, and all you can do is just warm up to it.”

The sheer sincerity in her tone threw me far off-balance. I looked up at her more intently, though not really sure what I was looking for in the first place – finding instead only more of the very same sincerity. “…That was a low blow,” I finally said, quietly. “Using my own sentiments against me.”

“I’m not hearing any denials,” she teased. Still staring into my eyes… almost as if she was looking for something – asking for something.

I looked away. “...No,” I said. “You aren’t.”

The wing stayed around me.

The morning started bright and early for the three of us – Lyra, Celestia and I – courtesy of the Sun Goddess shaking us awake an hour before raising her oversized paper lantern into the sky to make sure we’d get everything done before the foals woke up themselves. Not that I couldn’t have done that myself, but I still appreciated the assistance.

Tiptoeing around the house to make sure we wouldn’t wake them early was a deceptively nerve-wracking operation, but we managed it without too much trouble – each of the three banners went up in their respective places without fuss. Breakfast was a little noisier, but fortunately the foals appeared to be heavy sleepers that night, most likely tired from their previous escapades doing whatever it was young ponies did in their free time. It worked out great for all of us.

Until, that was, I spotted the little colt start to stir on the bed during a check-in, a good long while yet before sunrise was scheduled. I shot a look at Celestia through the door, then the window, making sure I didn’t just zone out for forty-five minutes – outside was still dark. I supposed we might have ended up making too much noise after all.

Well, ain’t nothin’ for it, I guess. I moved quietly over to the bed, trying not to wake up Wish as well, and gently put a hand on the colt’s withers, over the bedsheet. “Mornin’, little guy,” I whispered, looking down fondly at him. Bowmound didn’t seem very eager to wake up, judging by his shuffling and mumbling, trying to burrow deeper into his little nest – until, that was, he realised what was supposed to be happening today, at which he seemingly instantly leapt up and out of his slumber, taking only a few short moments to orient himself on the floor before looking up at me with an impossibly bright, and not a little smug, smile.

“Good morning, daddy!” Bowmound all but yelled at the top of his lungs, drawing an annoyed grumbling from his partner still on the bed; I frowned minutely and put a finger to my lips, which got a sheepish look at the floor from the enthusiastic colt for all of a second and a half before he sprung right back up again. “Good morning,” he repeated, this time quietly enough to not draw anyone’s ire.

I smiled down at the little fuzzball. “Morning,” I greeted. “What’s got you so excited so early, eh? It’s not like you two to wake up before sunrise.”

Bowmound practically pranced in place, his hoofclops once more catching the displeasure of his adoptive sister, along with the pillow he’d been sleeping on not minutes ago. “Oof!”

“Wish, that’s not very nice,” I warned, without any real heat behind it.

“Sorry, daddy. Sorry, Wish.” The colt threw his pillow back onto the bed – not coincidentally bouncing it off of the sleeping filly’s head in the process. I moved to interpose myself between the two to prevent a pillow fight from breaking out, intercepting the return fire with my back. “I’m just really excited today, daddy! Today is a really special day for me.”

I smiled at my colt’s attempt to act coy. He evidently had not noticed the banners put up on the walls yet, placed less than an hour ago as they were - or his immense enthusiasm might have also helped in that. “Really? And why’s that?”

His eyes dimmed for just a single tiny moment, before he started trotting out towards the kitchen, forcing me to follow along. “Nuh-uh! I can’t tell you, because it’s a surprise! And if I told you then it wouldn’t be a surprise at all! So you’re gonna have to wait until-”

A gasp cut him off before he could finish, as he turned his head to look where he was going – spotting Celestia hanging around with Lyra at the stove, busy with preparing a considerably larger meal than usual, together with some poor man’s baked goods; not as many or as convenient ingredients, but how hard could it have been to bake some simple oat cookies, anyway?

The two busy ponies turned around at the sound, Celestia wearing her usual diplomatic serenity which I had the pleasure of watching first-hand as it morphed into a just-barely contained expression of true, unadulterated joy; Lyra was content with a simple, motherly smile that still somehow managed to outclass the royalty next to her.

The little colt stood frozen in place, staring up at the alicorn beaming down at him like she’d descended from the heavens right in front of him, his muzzle dropped open far enough to make me worry about a dislocation. “Good morning, little Bowmound,” greeted Celestia. “I understand today is a very special day in your life, is it not?”

No reply came from the thunderstruck colt, prompting the Princess to giggle. “Not many ponies can claim to have been wished well by the Princess of Equestria personally, little Bowmound. I can understand your shock.”

Again, nothing. I smiled knowingly, and knelt down to pat him on the back to try to break him out of his trance. “Puh-” came a sputtering little exclamation, the second I made contact, as if I’d freed the syllable from his lungs for him. Bowmound whipped his head around, turning his massive glistening eyes on me for just long enough for me to see the wonder in his eyes, before careening back to Celestia, as if afraid she’d vanish if he took his eyes off her for too long.

I glanced up at her, myself, catching her gaze, discreetly gesturing with my other hand for her to do something – but before she could take the hint, Bowmound returned his attention back to me, stars in his eyes and a trembling smile pointed my way. “Daddy…?”

I looked down at him, returning his smile with a somewhat more restrained one, though no less warm. “Happy birthday, Bowmound.”

He blinked, glancing back at Celestia, the banner hung up on the wall opposite the stove in the kitchen then catching his attention, earning a second shocked gasp from the little colt. I was a little bit too busy to fully appreciate the aftermath, though, since right afterwards my ribcage was preoccupied with being crushed by a nine-year-old colt in the middle of what was depressingly likely to be the happiest day of his life. “Ack-!” I flailed my arms out a little to catch my balance, shifting my weight to carry his own a little better and allowing me to return his embrace.

The sobs starting to emanate from the little colt weren’t something I was prepared for; my head darted up to my two visitors in alarm, prompting Lyra to immediately trot over to join in the hug and nuzzle up against his cheek. “Thank you, Daddy…” he sobbed out against my shoulder, my heart seizing up at once. “Thank you, Mommy… thank you, Princess…” he added, somewhat belatedly.

“There’s nothing to thank us for, kid,” I murmured into his ear, rubbing his back to try to calm him down as best I could. “Nothing at all.”

“Nothing at all,” echoed both Lyra and Celestia, the latter having apparently overheard me even as quietly as I had spoken – in fact, she’d closed much of the distance, looming over the three of us and watching with barely-concealed interest.

“Now c’mon, son,” I said, patting him on the shoulders and starting the long and arduous process of disentangling myself from the mass of limbs we’d woven ourselves into. “We’ve worked pretty hard to make this day special for you – and I’m sure you don’t want your cookies to be burnt, do you?”

“Nuh-uh!” At once, Bowmound disappeared as if into thin air, but in reality he had just scarpered to the oven and was peering into it expectantly. I had to catch myself on Lyra to prevent falling face-first onto the floor, though rising to my feet without further assistance.

Lyra followed him to the stove, then back to his and his sister's bedroom as he evidently changed his mind about his priorities – I heard the sounds of cloth hitting cloth, surmising the colt didn’t want to wait for Wish to wake up naturally – letting Celestia sidle up to me and throw a knowing smirk my way.

“And you sold yourself short on your parenting, too, Adam,” she chided.

I shrugged helplessly, ignoring a squawk of surprise from the bedroom – then a second, more adult one. “Better to keep people’s expectations low and surprise, than keep them high and disappoint.”

“Don’t weasel your way out of my praise.” Her brow lowered. “Your colt is going to remember this day for the rest of his life. You’ve done good, Adam. Why can’t you just accept that?”

I snorted, turning to glance back in the direction of the bedroom. The smacking sounds had gotten more intense and frequent, but I hadn’t the heart to go in there and break it up. Certainly not today, of all days. “Guess that’s just my sunny optimism at work. But whatever,” I declared, spinning on my heel and kneeling to inspect the cookies baking in the oven. “Let’s make sure this day is remembered for the right reasons, yeah?”

“Quite,” Celestia agreed, lowering herself down with me and peering into the window. “Hmm… does that look done to you?”

“…I have no idea.”

…

The ‘official’ get-together for Bowmound’s birthday was surprisingly spirited, considering both the low number of guests and their nature. I’d essentially gathered whoever I could find and recalled the names of – the four of us in my house, Celestia, Steady and his family, Blueblood, even Fountain Quill of all ponies had made an appearance, though admittedly only because he was presently shadowing the good ambassador for the sake of learning some of his duties. I wouldn’t have believed company like this would have ever fit together and created a good time – but then again, I supposed the foals had a hand (hoof?) in that.

The five kids were huddled around at a corner of the house, just barely within sight at our behest, chattering excitedly to one another. It seemed like Steady’s and mine had struck up friendships pretty quickly with each other, which at least proved my foals were more gregarious than I was. Then again, I’d probably have made more friends here if I’d been forced to be in the same schoolhouse as them for going on two months now. The others were courteous enough to let the birthday colt take charge, too; I could make out his exultations the clearest, even if I couldn’t quite make any sense of them.

I shook my head fondly and returned my attention to my present company. Celestia stuck out like a sore thumb, not least because of her considerable height matched only by my own. Credit to her nerves, she didn’t seem the least bit put off by the less-than-cordial stares sent her way, instead doing her utmost to break the ice around the locals that clearly didn’t much care for her presence. It seemed to be working, too, at least some; some genuine polite chuckling could be heard from the group around her every now and then.

I, on the other hand, was in the middle of a discussion with the stallion himself, the good ambassador. “And to think,” Blueblood was saying, “you wished to have nothing to do with this business! Now you’ve abused your connection to the most powerful pony on Equus for the sake of making your colt happy.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Ambassador,” I grumbled, without any real anger behind it. “I changed my mind, I was wrong, and so on. And I’m glad I did.”

“Excuse me, First Minister,” he said. “I didn’t mean to imply disparagement. I, ah…”

I saved him the effort. “Let me guess, either it’s a bad idea to abuse personal connections with foreign officials for personal purposes, or I’m somehow a terrible parent for doing so?”

“Not in the slightest, First Minister,” he said immediately, a little offended. “Don’t put words in my mouth, that was not what I was going to say. I merely wished to point out the irony of your situation.”

“Mmm.” I hummed non-committally, admittedly mollified by his backtracking. “Well, I guess people change their minds all the time, why should I be an exception? Hell of a change to make, though.”

“Indeed,” concurred Blueblood. “You have come a long way from your roots as a countryside peasant, First Minister Inns.”

Rather than taking offense at the remark, I instead chuckled – then laughed. “Ain’t that the truth, Ambassador! I think that might be the most flattering compliment you’ve ever given me, too. Heh!”

The party didn’t include any zesty drinks for obvious reasons, so we’d made do with water, which I took a sip of to wet my throat while I basked in the atmosphere. Lyra continued to take it on herself to keep watch of the foals, though making enough space to hold a conversation with Steady and Deft; Celestia was now doing her best to shake my Immigration Secretary out of his shell of nervousness, with rather limited success. Lord only knew what for, though, considering bureaucratic advice from her would have been more akin to biblical proverbs – perhaps even literally. Not to imply Celestia was the one to pioneer Proto-Indo-European or anything like that, but… she did out-age me by a factor of at least a hundred and eighteen.

…Which, now that I thought about it, made our dynamic seem considerably weirder. Fuckin’ ponies, man. And fuckin’ goddesses, too. I didn’t really want to delve deeper into that topic, so I chose not to. My gaze drifted off into the far distance, staring out at some unknowable speck of something or another at the edge of the forest – by now, it was much less of a view to write home about; the snow hadn’t yet started falling, leaving the trees bare and brown, not even shiny white to hide away the torpor of nature yet.

“Peasant…” I muttered, finding myself lost in memories for a second time. How far I’d come, indeed, from that ‘country yokel’ Blueblood had met in my cabin that fateful day, back when my nearest neighbours were days rather than minutes away – the good old days, were I feeling less charitable than I was at that moment. I certainly couldn’t dispute those days being simpler, though. Back when all I had to worry about was whether my crops would be watered by rain or by my own efforts, and whether the hooch I’d have made from them would have been enough to buy the replacement cloth and luxuries I’d need to live a comfortable enough life out in the middle of nowhere.

“First Minister?” Blueblood’s quiet concern refocused me. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh, yes,” I said, “I’m fine. Merely got lost in my head a little.” I glanced around, wondering if anything had happened while I was zoned out. The foals, and Lyra, were out of sight; hopefully they were staying out of trouble. Steady and Deft had ambled over to the Princess, a little wary at first, but Cel’s natural charm seemed rather overpowering, and she had them talking animatedly about something or other very quickly. My man, Quill, though… he shot a look my way that just screamed ‘oh god get me away from here.’ I gave him a little impish smirk, and waved him over clearly enough for him, and anyone in that group who’d been watching, to get the message.

He trotted over at once, trying quite hard to suppress his relief, leaving only the fur on the sides of his head matted with sweat to indicate his previous discomfort. “First Minister? Ambassador?” he called out, slowing slightly as if not quite sure who to walk up to.

“Secretary Quill,” I said – as did Blueblood, at the same time, which we exchanged bemused glances at. I gestured at him with a wry smile in a ‘go ahead’ sort of way.

“Please, go ahead.” Quill hopped over to the good ambassador at my insistence, rather more enthused than he was mere seconds ago. “I certainly don’t have anything for you right now.”

That left me all on my ownsome, only a half-empty cup of water to keep me company. I was never much of a social sort, I didn’t see the need – or desire – to butt into Celestia’s gathering, or to continue to impose on Quill and Blueblood after I’d just excused myself. I’d had half a mind to retire into my house and catch a few minutes of a nap for quite possibly the first time this whole year (wasn’t much of a napping sort, either).

Predictably, Lyra and the foals chose precisely that time to return, Bowmound leading the charge almost right into my legs – though swerving around at the last moment and pirouetting past me like he’d actually meant to do that. The others continued after him more conservatively, not quite willing to risk a collision with me, or the soil beneath. Lyra cantered up to me but dug her hooves into the ground to screech to a stop in front, panting like she’d only managed to run about a sixth of a marathon.

My brow quirked in not-even-concealed amusement. “Having fun?”

No verbal answer came besides more laboured breathing. Instead, what I got was a nod of her head and a tired, but very satisfied smile. “Mmm,” I hummed, my smirk slowly widening. “And I’m not about to have to scold him for throwing eggs at ponies’ houses, am I? Because birthdays are all well and good, but even I knew I couldn’t get away with that excuse.”

I paused, considering. “…Actually, I did get away with it, if I recall. With worse, even. But that was because the other guy didn’t. So…” I made a show of looking back at the foals, who were now busy pestering ol’ Sunbutt – not that she minded, of course, with her outstretched wings all but smothering the little ponies to their squealing delight, and her blissed out smile telling damn near half the town what she thought of the current arrangement.

When I looked back, Lyra had finally recovered enough to no longer be heaving. “Is that why you leave all the hard work to me, Adam?”

“No comment,” I replied instantly. It wasn’t, obviously, even if I did consider myself a poor candidate for fatherhood – and anyway, if a physical goddess vouched for me, I supposed I couldn’t be that bad. It was just massively convenient to have someone else stay at home and watch over the foals while I was busy with the whole ‘running the whole country’ shit I’d saddled myself with. And besides, my comment got at least a polite chuckle out of the mare, so I considered it a success.

“Whatever you say.” Lyra held her hoof out at me, eyes silently pleading. I blinked at her, parsing her query for slightly longer than I probably should have, before handing her the remains of my water. She just about threw it down her throat, barely even bothering with swallowing properly.

I looked on, quietly intrigued, as she hoofed me the cup back. “Five foals really take that much out of you, Ly?”

“It’s a special occasion,” she defended with a pout.

I laughed. “I won’t deny that. And they’ve not even gotten their cake yet, Christ, just imagine how they’ll act when they get a kilo of sugar in them.”

Lya actually shuddered at that image, her face going slack in disbelieving terror. She even went so far as to take a step back, just to really sell it. I huffed out a breath, the idea of my two foals in the middle of a sugar rush not entirely welcome in my own imagination. Then again, it was a special occasion, was it not? I certainly couldn’t begrudge them for indul-

“Step away from my daughter, Inns.”

The cold voice behind me served to almost stop time itself in its tracks. The ambient sound simply disappeared, such was the authority behind it. I craned my head around, looking for the interruption, and found a stallion behind me, facing me about a dozen paces away. The greenish mane and the horn on his head rang a bell, but I couldn’t quite place him. Behind him, I saw Blueblood staring oddly at us, apparently not recognising the pony either.

I made my confusion clear with a frown. “…Sir? Do I know you?”

“Yes, you do,” he said, managing to make it sound cordial despite the undertones of a growl. “If you recall, I was the one to interview you after your Summer Sun appearance.”

That gave the game away. I nodded along in sudden realisation. “Ah yes, I do recall. You must be Lord Heartstrings, then. I hope the Free State has lived up to your expectations so far.” Then his first statement returned to the forefront of my attention. “Wait… your daughter?”

Heartstrings’ gaze slid right off me at once, glaring darkly at the pony now doing her best impression of a marble statue; seemingly every muscle in Lyra’s body was locked tight, just like her own wide eyes were locked onto the stallion. “Indeed,” he said. “I have been searching for you for a very long time, Plucked.”

…What the fuck is all this now? “I think you have the wrong pony, Lord Heartstrings,” I said. “Her name is-”

“Not what she says it is, First Minister,” he interrupted. “Believe me. I know my daughter, whatever she decides to call herself.” His jaw clenched, hard enough for me to see it from here. “She has been running from me for almost ten years. I am here to finally take her home.”

Heartstrings stepped forward, his intent clear as day. Lyra still didn’t move a muscle; if I didn’t know any better I’d have thought she had actually been petrified at the sight of her father in front of her. A pathetic whimper squeaking out of her was the only indication she was still among the living.

I took a step forward myself, meeting the stallion halfway with an arm outstretched to vaguely block his line of sight to her. “Whoa, whoa, let’s settle down for just a second, shall we?” I’ll admit I wasn’t doing very much to try to de-escalate the situation, stern as my tone came out. Though Heartstrings darkened even further, he did stop in his tracks. “I’ve more of a mind to trust her than you right now, considering what I’ve seen from her. So tell me, exactly what is all this about?”

“You are harbouring a murderer, First Minister.” The accusation was blunt, and bone-dry. Heartstrings’ gaze slid over onto me, making a visible effort to calm himself as he did so, rather the opposite of what my expression was turning into. “Of her own mother. I’ve spent a decade searching for justice. You cannot trust her, Inns. Do not make the same mistake we did – I did.”

My mind raced as Heartstrings regarded me coolly. How could this even be possible? Turns out my roommate and the other adoptive parent of my fucking children was actually matricidal and on the run from justice for a decade? And Heartstrings – who I recalled was part of the Equestrian government, as well as EIC of the Canterer – had been searching for his daughter all that time?

…Instead of people who would actually be qualified to do so? Didn’t he have better things to occupy his time with, and leave the man- or rather pony-hunt to the police, or the Royal Guard? Why do this personally? I understood that this was quite a personally charged affair, but shouldn’t he have known better than to confront Lyra himself? Assuming this was all true, that is -

I looked down at the mare in question. Her sheer, unadulterated terror didn’t exactly make her look like a hardened criminal, although admittedly being caught by someone searching for her to bring her to justice might have unbalanced her rather strongly. Could someone like her really have a side as dark as that?

“First Minister.” Heartstrings took another step forward, starkly imploring. “Please. You cannot allow her to… to get away with her crimes.”

“It’s a lie,” was the whisper almost too indistinct to hear that Lyra answered with. She still didn’t take her eyes off her father for a moment, apparently operating on Weeping Angel logic. “I didn’t do a thing to either of them.”

Naturally you’d say that. As far as I knew, in the absence of actual proof, this whole farce was essentially ‘he said, she said’ with a noble against a former vagrant – and for all I knew, in an Equestrian court of law that would be all they needed to slap a conviction on Lyra’s arse. Of course, I just had to be put in the position between the two, effectively the deciding vote between two sets of presently-baseless allegations.

“Please don’t let him take me,” pleaded Lyra, again almost too quiet to hear.

And wasn’t that the precisely right thing she just said to me -

“Will you keep me safe?” she asked, voice quiet yet brittle like glass. “Please, don’t let them take me…”

“I promise,” I repeated. “You’ll be okay here.”

…Son of a fucking bitch. A disgruntled grimace split my face by degrees as I recalled the night Lyra had all but broken down on learning a Court’s Eye had been in the Free State. I recalled a few other things alongside it, too, like the very first day she’d spent here – the overpowering desperation she’d shown me, not begging outright only because her body language had done that duty for her… that couldn’t have been an act. Could it?

Could I take that chance?

What sort of person would I be if I didn’t?

The foals picked quite possibly the worst time to come running back up to us, the birthday colt practically fusing himself to Lyra’s chest while Wish, perhaps sensing something was amiss here, stopped a few paces away from us all, watching cautiously. Heartstrings regarded the newcomers with the same dispassion he continued to afford us, though frowning something fierce at Bowmound so eagerly snuggling up to his mother figure.

“First Minister,” he tried. In truth, though, my mind was already more or less made up. Maybe it was all an act. Maybe Lyra was secretly the sort of pony that could sell snow to penguins and was just using me for an easy life and a bulwark against law enforcement – but seeing my little birthday boy nuzzle into her chest in an attempt to rejuvenate her into the land of the living? Having seen her take care of my foals for months without asking for anything more than a bed and three meals a day? Even when I couldn’t give her the latter for a short while?

I looked at Heartstrings, my expression grim. “I don’t believe you, Lord Heartstrings.”

A momentary shock rippled through his body, eyes widening and a hoof planted behind him for stability as if my words were threatening to physically knock him over – and then a darker side started to creep out of him, returning to eyeing his daughter. “I see she has dug her claws into you already, Inns,” he muttered. “A skillset I taught her. Don’t I regret grooming her for my role now.”

I got the impression I wasn’t supposed to hear that latter half, and neither was Lyra. Neither of us gave any indication that we did. “Perhaps if you came to me with more concrete proof than your account against hers, I might be more amenable to your polite request to toss the mother to my foals into a prison cell.”

“Ah, yes, proof,” he sneered. “Perhaps you’d like for me to dig the body of my wife out from her tomb to convince you? Shall I return with a warrant, maybe?”

“It might help,” I replied glibly.

Admittedly, that might have been a poor response, considering. Heartstrings practically growled, his stance lowering and his horn starting to spark dangerously; the sight made both Lyra and the foals take a step back, Lyra and Bowmound both retreating into my shadow. “I am warning you, Inns,” he said lowly. “You are making a terrible mistake. Plucked Heartstrings is not who you have been fooled into believing she is.”

“Perhaps,” I allowed. "But that doesn't change the fact I'd sooner trust her word over yours. I've known her longer than I have you, lies or not."

"What in the starless hells is going on here?"

It seemed like Heartstrings' light show had attracted some attention from the peanut gallery; Blueblood had hurried over but didn't quite commit to interposing himself between us. The remainder of the group had merely ambled closer, curious but content to watch and listen.

The added attention seemed to discourage the stallion from escalating. He turned his head incrementally towards the ambassador, powering his horn down, if not his glower. "Your Highness, with the highest respect, this is not your place to intervene. I am attempting to resolve a private matter-"

"Load of bollocks," I immediately shot. "I won't have a member of the Equestrian government kidnapping Free State citizens, private concerns or not, and we certainly haven't signed any extradition treaty either."

"It is not your place to intervene either, Inns!" Heartstrings snapped, evidently starting to lose his patience. His voice grew sharper and louder as he continued snarling. "I am taking my daughter home to face justice for what she has done, whether you condone it or not! You do not get to dictate to me, either of you!"

"And what's she got to say in the matter?" I hooked a thumb out in Lyra's direction. The mare in question still somehow remained in precisely the position she'd assumed at the beginning of this whole shitshow. At my drawing of attention to her, she momentarily glanced up at me, bearing to look away from her hunter, for lack of a better term, only for a short moment. Terror remained etched into her expression. I doubted she'd approve of the suggestion of simply leaving with Heartstrings.

"Nothing," he growled, starting to scuff a hoof against the earth in clear aggression. "Her opinion is forfeit."

"Mine isn't," I said.

By now, Celestia had gotten in the fray as well, walking up to us with a blank look, glancing at both of us in turn. For once, I couldn't quite read her, though I supposed she mustn't have been too enthused by me getting into a confrontation with one of her own little ponies. She'd stood out of sight of Heartstrings, but her natural presence still managed to give him pause.

"You have foals of your own, Inns," he began, an air of conciliation about him now. "You should empathise more than most. What would you do to find them if they'd gone missing for a decade?"

"Doublespeak doesn't suit you, Heartstrings," I spat immediately, taking a step forward, trying my best to loom over him over the distance. "Touch my foals and I will kill you."

Heartstrings didn't have a reply ready for that. His muzzle scrunched up in what I saw as distaste - perhaps finally realising I wasn't about to back down, he bowed his head incrementally, and turned away to retreat. I watched him try to look dignified in defeat with a powerful scowl, wishing Construct had shown up just so I could tell her he wasn't welcome here any longer as soon as possible.

"Go inside, Lyra," I spoke, doing my best to keep my tone even. "Bowmound, Wish, you go too." All three parties obeyed immediately, shuffling off into my house at speed. I turned to shoot Celestia a deeply unkind look - which she continued to return with nothing. "This had better not mean anything, Princess," I spat, spinning on my heel and following Lyra and the foals into the house.

All things considered, Lyra was holding together surprisingly well. Perhaps she'd simply exhausted her reservoir of panic and terror already, having met her father face-to-face apparently at long last. I'd have expected her to melt down at the sight, considering just the mention of a Court's Eye nearby had given her a panic attack, but apparently Lyra - or rather 'Plucked Heartstrings,' feh - was made of sterner stuff.

Not that I wasn't concerned, of course.

I didn't dare bring the subject up myself, of course; I wasn't a complete moron, after all. The aura hung around the both of us like a bad smell, but that was much more preferable right this second than cutting to the chase.

I'd sat her down in the living room, to absolutely no resistance whatsoever. I'd practically had to pose her manually like a ragdoll to get her comfortable, but we got there in the end. The foals tried their best to snap her out of it, nuzzling up to her on either side. Lyra'd put her forelegs around them, so I supposed it must have helped somewhat.

I gathered my thoughts in the middle of getting her something to drink. Lyra was the daughter of Lord Heartstrings, apparently, and the two were on much less than good terms with each other. Heartstrings accused Lyra of murdering his wife and her mother, Lyra denied it. She'd been running from him specifically for those ten years - having run away from Canterlot for that reason. He'd evidently been looking for her all that time, using his own considerable resources to find her.

Either that, or Lyra was merely paranoid that he could have done that - I dismissed the idea instantly; it was no coincidence Heartstrings showed up after a Court's Eye did. He ran that whole organisation personally, after all. It didn't really matter whether he did or not - he could, so I had to assume he would, and did.

Did the murder accusation hold any weight? I was very perturbed by the fact I couldn't know for sure, not without handing her over to Equestria - and who knows what would happen to her there, guilty or not. Lyra didn't strike me as the criminal sort.

But… Heartstrings did let slip he'd taught her at least some of what his own work entailed - as either EIC or as Chancellor. It wasn't a secret Lyra pressed buttons for me. Perhaps he was merely trying to sow as much doubt between the two of us as possible. I was certainly cautious enough a person to be susceptible to that kind of tactic…

I handed Lyra a glass of water, trying not to jerk as my mind shifted back into reality. Lyra floated the cup out of my hands and drank greedily; barely ten seconds passed before the empty cup was all but shoved back into my hands.

She looked at me, then, expectantly. Almost existentially resigned, like she was facing the hangman even with her father (hopefully - note to self, make sure he gets booted out of the FS posthaste) having just been driven off.

"I suppose you want an explanation, don't you." Her tone was dead. I frowned down at her, glancing worriedly at the foals, considering my words.

"...I would like one," I finally decided on. "I said I wasn't going to push you on this if you weren't comfortable, but-"

"But now there's no point in hiding it any more," she finished. Presumptively, at that - I was more concerned about the repercussions of so aggressively blowing off a foreign noble, and what he might have ended up doing to try to bring Lyra home - and, quite possibly, bring the Free State to heel in the process.

"Maybe not," I said instead. "You know how far I'd go to keep you safe." I paused, glancing at the foals again. "All of you."

"Yeah," Lyra breathed, as if only now coming to that conclusion; I could have sworn I saw hope filling her like a water bottle, but probably that was just the foals squeezing her a little bit too enthusiastically. "You would."

I wasn't too sure about having the foals around for this conversation, but I didn't have the heart to send them away as Lyra began her tale. They'd probably seen worse themselves, honestly - as much as I wished they didn't.

Lyra, or Plucked as she went by in those days, was indeed born into a life of relative luxury - the daughter of one of the most influential nobles around, practically a stone's throw from living right in the palace itself. Her foalhood was emblematic of a sheltered noble, all private tutors and court intrigue she was too young to comprehend or care about. She'd found time to be happy, though, since she was largely beyond the usual social considerations; she'd had friends of all sorts, and was rather outgoing, so long as she didn't falter in her studies.

Those including eventually succeeding her father in his role. The one that mattered was Chancellor of the PID. Being the head of a shadowy domestic intelligence apparatus didn't quite gel with the image of the Lyra in front of me now, but apparently she took to it rather enthusiastically - even in Equestria, the power of daddy's approval was not to be underestimated. That, or she just didn't know any better.

That changed once Lyra hit her adolescence, and Heartstrings saw fit to finally include her into society for real. She didn't elaborate on the reason why that was done, but I could hazard a guess - easier to manipulate real people if you've talked to a few in your life. The program she was admitted to was rather intense, being literally better than anything money could buy - instead having been bought by influence and personal favours.

"Father didn't see any issue with allowing me to enrol in a music class," continued Lyra, in the same toneless voice she'd regaled the rest of the tale. "He'd never expected my cutie mark to deviate from the plan he'd had for me. And it did."

"You found your real passion in life for music," I said quietly.

"Yes," said Lyra. "I had an assignment to compose a short piece of music. I wasn't given any direction on how to do it, my teacher told me to make it from the heart. That was the first time I'd ever been asked anything like that in my life. It took me thirty minutes to figure out what to do."

"Yeah. Art doesn't quite work the same way as… anything like that," I ended up saying lamely. Lyra nodded her agreement.

Lyra came out of that class a changed filly, in a way besides her newfound destiny - or perhaps not. She'd become more carefree, free-spirited, and much more independent than Heartstrings had liked. Perhaps the mark meaning all his years of creating his dynasty went up in smoke at once, or perhaps just Lyra starting to rub him the wrong way… whatever the reason, he slowly started tightening the leash. And by that…

"I was hardly allowed to leave his sight," said Lyra. "I had to drop out of the CSGU at his orders. Nopony else would do - he was the only person I would be taught by from then on. It got stricter from there."

"Didn't your mother have any say in this?" I asked.

"No," she answered simply. No clarification came. "I could not stand it for very long. My mark was in music, not blind obedience. Eventually, I decided escape was the only option."

It was no Escape from Alcatraz. As it turned out, Heartstrings was not so paranoid as to expect his daughter to simply leave in the dead of night, though that phrase was something of an oversimplification. Having a good idea of how her father thought gave her good odds on evading him for the decade she'd spent on the run - until she arrived here, on my doorstep.

"And now he's found you," I finished the tale, as Lyra was winding down. "In the Free State."

"Yes," she breathed. "He has."

I glanced back at the foals. At some point during the retelling, they'd dozed off, cuddling up to her like the world's snuggest plushie. My lips pursed. "So. What happens now?"

Lyra didn't reply. She, too, snuck peeks at her side passengers, her face momentarily curling up into some expression I couldn't even begin to identify. "He knows you're here," I tried again. "Somehow, I doubt my stern finger waggling will keep him away for long."

"I know," she whispered.

I hesitated. Probably wasn't a good idea to keep pushing her on that front. "So what is this going to mean for you? For us?"

"You promised, Adam," came the instant, rather heated reply. "To keep me safe."

"I did," I said.

"So?"

"...Well, what do you want me to say?" I asked, confused. "You expect me to toss you away like used trash for the sake of not rocking the boat? I've already pissed him off by not having done that the first time. He comes back, and we'll deal with him."

There wasn't any compromise in my tone. I hadn't a doubt in my mind there'd be repercussions for this - hopefully on both sides, but I wasn't about to hold my breath.

Lyra, though, had fallen silent, tearing up at my sincerity. She made to move off the couch, but reconsidered after jostling the foals still napping next to her. Instead, she made do with a nod of the head and a very quiet, "Thank you, Adam."

"Always," I replied. "You feeling better now?"

"Somehow, yes," she said, remarkably glibly. I couldn't help a chuckle.

"Suppose I'll take your word for it. Take a nap, yourself, maybe." I nodded at the sleeping foals. "I'll keep watch if I have to."

"...I'd appreciate that, actually. Thank you," she repeated, louder this time.

That settled it - with a casual shrug, I made to set myself down in the armchair adjacent to the trio and grabbed a nearby book. True to words, Lyra settled down herself, curling up like a cat in a way I found quite adorable to watch.

It was safe to say this birthday party was well and truly fucked, thanks to Heartstrings. Celestia and Blueblood and the rest were presumably still outside, or failing that somewhere in the Free State - I had some strong words to exchange with the former, without a doubt. If he'd arrived here at her behest…

Fuck a duck. And on my fuckin' day off, of all days…

26. Deeper Waters VI - Government 'em Up

Author's Note

Hello again.

First off, I apologise for the wait. Life kept getting in the way, falling into rabbit holes, burning my writing energy on other things. Turns out planning to write 600k words is a lot easier than writing them for real. I'll try to do a bit better.

Second, I'm in the middle of a rewrite of the second half of Growing Pains. Lots of commenters said it was crud, and it is. Hopefully the overall story beats will stay roughly the same, but will make slightly more sense in-universe, or at least be explainable. It will be posted before the next arc, and will replace their respective chapters; in particular 16 to 18, and to a much lesser extent subsequent chapters that reference them. I'll announce when it's finished a little bit before I post it, just in case.

Thanks for sticking around so long, it means an awful lot.

26. Deeper Waters VI - Government 'em Up

This time, I met with Celestia in my office proper. It had been pretty late in the afternoon, but she'd stuck around long enough for me to demand she follow me. Steady and Blueblood and all the rest had already departed, on account of there not being much point in it all by that point – except for Fountain Quill, who'd apparently been waiting for more concrete orders, which I'd given him in the form of watching over Lyra. Discreetly, though – just in case.

The walk to the office had been quiet. I hadn't been in the mood for pleasantries, and she hadn't pushed. I imagined both of us had other concerns on our minds – mine, for instance, concerned my whole host of new problems to keep in mind regarding our foreign relations. Celestia was one thing, I was sure I wasn’t going to have many issues coming from her way, but… well. Despite what common sense might have led one to imagine, she was not an absolute monarch. Christ only knew why, though; the sort of autonomy I’d seen her subordinates (those, admittedly, being only Blueblood and Heartstrings so far) exercise seemed considerably… excessive, for lack of a better term. Leaving idiots like them free to run around doing whatever the fuck they liked sounded like a great step one for a recipe for serious civil unrest.

The stairs leading up to my office were built well enough, but creaked noticeably under both our combined weights. I’d been vain enough to insist my office be on the highest floor, overlooking as much of Bastion as it could manage. I could see my house from it, in fact, though admittedly only because it was one of the only one-story houses in the entire town, and the path to get between the two points was memorable enough for me to simply follow it back with my eyes. The room itself remained about as spartan as it had been in my own house – a desk and a chair, the requisite stationery, somewhere to store loose sheets of paper, and a clock above the door.

Only once I was sat down, fingers steepled under my chin and a displeased glare affixed on her, did I finally deign to say something. "Princess." My tone was barely even civil. "I can only hope you even realise merely what a poor mood today's events have put me in. Today was supposed to be an informal, light-hearted gathering, celebrating the birthday of my child. I wasn’t supposed to be in here until two days from now. And now, Lord Heartstrings, who is a member of your government, might I add, shows up here at the same time as you, and has expressed his intent to take a citizen of the Free State to face Equestrian justice right in front of my face."

I got the impression Celestia was about to speak up. I pre-empted her by continuing. "You told me you did not recognise Lyra when I asked you about her. Now you have apparently seen fit to invite him here personally. Can you imagine what I might possibly construe that as?" My expression darkened even further. “Especially when veiled threats about my fucking children get thrown into the mix. That I have not signed an extradition treaty with Equestria is one thing, but an element of your government threatening to disappear my foals? I’d be well within my right to throw relations with you out the fucking window entirely. If not more.”

That might have been pushing it, but frankly, I was pissed off and I had a right to tell her off. Her lowered brow didn't dissuade me in the slightest. "I assure you, First Minister," she began, rather more conciliatory than I’d honestly been expecting, "I had knowledge of neither Ms. Heartstrings' identity nor Lord Heartstrings' intentions or presence within the Free State. Equestria remains committed to good relations with all its neighbouring states, including yours, regardless of any misunderstandings. That this unfortunate incident has happened is regrettable, but I hope that it will not drive a wedge between us, or our people."

I had to admit – Celestia could sound exactly as soulless as any other politician when she set her mind to it. It would almost have been impressive if I didn't know her so well. I, on the other hand, was not so restrained. “It had better not,” I said. “Heartstrings will not be welcomed in the Free State any further. I would appreciate that you convey this to him at your earliest convenience. As well as the consequences that would follow were he to disregard that.”

“Those being?”

“Take a guess, Princess,” I spat. “I’ll kick his ass my own damn self if I have to.”

Celestia hid a grimace very well, but I could still see the skin just under her eyes crinkle. Ultimately, though, she bowed her head in acquiescence. “That is understandable,” she said. “I will do everything in my power to ensure that will not be necessary, First Minister.”

“From what I have seen of your power,” I replied, “that would not appear to be very much.”

“You have not seen us at our best,” she tried.

“No. I have not.” I remained unimpressed. “I have seen you as you are, Princess – your Equestria, that is. The Free State being what it is now, even that discredits you and your efforts merely by implication. Economic woes, socio-political repression at the hooves of a secret police in all but name and prestige-”

“Secret police?” exclaimed Celestia, suitably offended. “I resent such accusations, First Minister. Equestria has no place for any such organisations.”

“Ah, yes,” I said flatly. “I suppose you prefer to refer to them as a ‘domestic security apparatus,’ or some other euphemism. That does not change the fact they exist, and have taken an interest in my State, and me and my… associates in particular.” I let my expression harden. “I can assure you, Princess, and I will state this for the record – if anything happens to my foals, and I find an Equestrian is behind it… there will be hell to pay.”

“That will not happen,” declared Celestia firmly. “I will make sure of it. Equestria is beyond any such baseness of morality.”

“Good.” I nodded, mollified. “If even a third of what I’ve heard is the truth, then it’s long past time you cleaned up your house. Though I won’t make suggestions on how you ought to run your own nation.” I raised my hands in pre-emptive pacification. “That’s more your job, after all.”

My jab wasn’t very light-hearted in tone, but Celestia still saw it as the end of our formal business, cracking a slightly worn smile. “Don’t tell me you are still holding your circumstances above my head, Adam. Haven’t you made the Free State yours by now?”

“Despite your best efforts, apparently,” I remarked glibly. “Which reminds me.” I snuck out a blank piece of parchment from a drawer, together with a quill, and made a vague gesture in the air with my free hand. “Since I’ve got you here, I reckon it’s about time we formalised our relations as nation-states, rather than through… mates’ rates, or whatever.”

Celestia saw through me instantly, raising an eyebrow. “Your timing is impeccable.”

“Perhaps,” I said non-committally. “Though that doesn’t change the fact this will still put a lot of people’s minds at ease. Mine, yours, our peoples’. After all, the Free State is an independent polity, is it not?” My very own raised eyebrows, more pointed than hers, cowed the Princess.

“Indeed,” she said. “By all means, then, state your terms, First Minister.”

I paused. There was something decidedly sinister about the way Celestia had said that, very much like a challenge. I wasn’t quite stupid enough to bank solely on being friends with her to get away with asking for the moon, but… all of a sudden, I felt woefully underqualified, underprepared. I wasn’t even going to demand that much, not really. Non-aggression wasn’t an undesirable treaty to sign, was it? Certainly not to Equestria, which hadn’t fought a declared war against a foreign power for literally thousands of years.

I was struck, that moment, by precisely how hopelessly outclassed I was. Never mind all the experience Celestia had and I didn’t, I hadn’t even taken stock of the bloody situation I was now in – a mistake that could well have proven fatal. I needed to sort my shit out, stat.

The Free State was very, very new. Its First Minister, likewise. Its people hated Equestria for the most part, and frankly I was effectively forced to assume Celestia already knew this. Our foreign policy was still up in the air, more or less – until precisely this moment, where my terms would solidify them into existence. I couldn’t push too much and piss Celestia off, and I couldn’t concede too much and piss half my constituents off. We were only independent out of the kindness of the Princess’ heart – and, I suspected, I was only alive because I’d made shows of distancing myself at least professionally from her.

…Fuck. How galling it was, to realise I was stuck at a considerable disadvantage at the negotiating table, even despite Celestia’s grievous faux pas in having one of her subordinates threaten my foals’ safety. Tossing her out of the FS was wishful thinking – I just could not afford to alienate her right now. The problem was, I didn’t exactly know what would alienate her. My terms weren’t much, or many, but hers… if there were any, they could be big fucking problems.

So much for being independent. I folded my hands in front of me neutrally, frowning down at their refusal to stop trembling. “The Free State does not ask for much from its neighbours. We want guarantees that our territorial integrity, our sovereignty, our control over our domestic and foreign affairs, will not be threatened in any way.”

“That is perfectly reasonable,” said Celestia immediately.

She hadn’t lost her mind, evidently, which was good – I hadn’t the foggiest what I would have done if that had been too far. “Excellent,” I said, a bit superfluously but nonetheless pleased. “The Free State has no concerns about limiting movement of people or goods through its borders at present, but we would like to reserve the right to do so should the need arise.”

“Also understandable,” she said again. “Though I would appreciate some notice before any border closures come into effect.”

“That is fine,” I accepted. “The Equestrian ambassador will serve as the point of contact, as always.” A nod bade me to continue. “Our citizens are our own. The Free State will permit dual citizens, but while they are within the State’s territory only State laws will apply to them.”

“Naturally,” said Celestia.

I very strongly resisted an urge to frown. That… admittedly, may have been poorly phrased, but that did sound an awful lot to my ears like no Equestrian interference within the Free State’s borders whatsoever. “And no extradition will take place between our two nations,” I pushed. “Except in extraordinary cases, with the consent of both of us and our judiciaries.”

That, at least, gave Celestia some pause. As well it should have – that was an incredibly generous set of terms for me, essentially letting Equestrian criminals run free in my nation. Until they become criminals here, that is. And, of course, vice versa, which I didn’t give two hoots about; better they go over there than continue causing trouble here.

“I can agree to that,” she eventually said, though I did pick up on the hesitance in her tone that she tried to hide. I similarly hid my own surprise at her acquiescence. She was feeling awfully more generous than I had imagined she would be… I breathed an internal sigh of relief, and made sure to jot down the various details – as well as all those of the previous terms, having actually forgotten to do so. “Non-citizens of each other’s nations will be entitled to ambassadorial representation.”

The sudden demand gave me pause, but I quickly composed myself; it was a perfectly sensible point that any Equestrians who get into trouble in the State would be entitled to speak to Equestrian representatives for legal counsel, and vice versa. “Of course,” I agreed.

A pause fell between us. I’d apparently exhausted everything I wanted out of this piece of paper, and so had she. Looking down on it, seeing all of five lines jotted down, I had to blink. Apparently diplomatic negotiations were far easier than I had thought they were. Especially with leverage of the sort I had at my disposal.

“It is possible to pad treaties, First Minister,” said Celestia, abruptly back to her more playful persona as if to signify that work time was over. “How about something about friendship in there?”

I’ll admit I snorted a little bit in what might have been mirth at that. “Of course you’d say that,” I said. “The State-Equestrian Treaty of Friendship and Non-Aggression. Sure. As good a name as any, I guess.”

“Indeed,” agreed Celestia with an easy nod. “That is certainly a good start.”

“Oh, a start, huh?” I crossed my arms. “Let me guess, you’ve got a seventeen-point plan from now to Free State reintegration into Equestria, haven’t you? I’m guessing you’ll be jumping for joy back in Canterlot that I didn’t decide to close my borders.”

“Why would you have done that?”

I didn’t bother replying to that question, since I had nothing to reply with – it would have effectively been suicide, after all. “Equestrian business seeking to expand into the Free State will be subject to additional restrictions to ensure our economic sovereignty is not under threat at any time,” I declared instead.

My first success – Celestia was actually taken by surprise at that, though whether by the sheer non-sequitur or that one of her methods for the hypothetical subsumption of my nation back into hers had just been called out and shot down so directly, I didn’t know, and frankly didn’t much care either. “That… so long as your own businesses reciprocate, First Minister, I can allow that.”

“Excellent,” I said, pleased at the effectively free concession I’d been handed – since why would I have tried to subjugate an economy the size of Equestria’s? “And of course, Equestrian armed forces will not be permitted to enter our territory.”

And somehow that was what Celestia took offense to. “Are you sure, First Minister? Equestria is more than willing to protect your sovereignty from foreign aggression, should the need unfortunately arise. A state as unique as yours, it would be a great tragedy to see it disappear from the community of nations.”

I couldn’t help the grimace that crept up my face. A guarantee of independence was all well and good, but I had more than an inkling of what that would actually entail. We had some history with treaties of ‘mutual assistance’ back home, after all. “Foreign military personnel stationed on Free State territory is not something I, or my people, will ever allow. I appreciate your dedication to our sovereignty, but we will make sure to ask for help when we want it. Our enemies are too few to concern ourselves with such drastic measures, Princess.”

“There is no guarantee that such will remain the case, First Minister,” said Celestia, now frowning.

The veiled threat wasn’t lost on me, unintentional or not. “We shall concern ourselves when that happens, then, Princess,” I replied coolly. “Your proclamations of sovereignty guarantees would be more convincing if you refrained from attempting to restrict ours in the very same breath.”

“Very well then.” Of course Celestia would be too smart to take the bait. I was very faintly hoping she’d have slipped up and given me ammunition to extort some concession or another, even if I couldn’t really imagine any I could reasonably want, or need. “We shall wait until the enemy is at your gates before offering our assistance.”

“Thank you, Princess,” I said, remarkably straight-faced. “The Free State is more than willing to reciprocate; our armed forces will stay out of your territory.”

“That is good,” said Celestia, equally straight-faced. Compromise was important in diplomacy, after all, no matter how token, or petty, or just straight-up farcical. As well, there wasn’t much point in me spending diplomatic capital by asking one-sided terms regarding that kind of matter; I wouldn’t lose anything by offering it.

“I am glad we could come to an agreement on this matter as quickly and decisively as we have done, Princess,” I said, finally starting to drive this to its conclusion. I’d gotten everything I wanted out of the discussion – a piece of paper to wave to a crowd and call a victory. Presumably Celestia had gotten the same; more treaties never hurt anyone, after all. In any case, this was now officially something I could stick in a box somewhere and forget about.

“Likewise, First Minister,” Celestia returned with a very practised polite smile. “It is good to see you appreciate the importance of peaceful diplomacy; it is a trait that some unfortunately dispense with.”

“Please,” I said glibly. “It’s nothing so grandiose as that. I just really don’t like getting sunburns.”

A polite chuckle left Celestia as she stood and turned for the door – with me scurrying up to her side to see her off at least somewhat formally. “I would never stoop so low, Adam!”

“Careful, Cel,” I deadpanned. “I’ll have to hold you to that if you say it in here.” It really was a lovely sound, her laughter. I hoped it wasn’t just that she was easily amused, or laughing at me, as I led her off back to the carriage waiting for her just outside.

The big meeting of my cabinet came, to my mind, far too quickly. A meeting hall on the ground floor of the government hall had been set up for exactly purposes like this, with an actual conference table this time; the aesthetic was admittedly as rustic as the rest of Bastion was, with wood clearly still visible under what miniscule paint we could spare, and cheap occasionally-coloured cloth lining the walls and floors as accent, but it remained an improvement. Certainly modern steel and concrete was not something I expected us to ever reach, at least in my lifetime… but it was, admittedly, something of a shorthand for advancement.

In any case, there I was, sat at the head of the vaguely-oval table, looking dispassionately at my subordinates as they each tried their best to acquaint themselves with their chairs and their assorted papers: Sturdy Construct, as ever, was right by my right side, speaking quietly to my Minister for the Interior, Whisker, who was in turn seated next to her. Past her, the newly-minted Minister for the Treasury, former Lord High Roller, was giving Blueblood the stink eye across the table; the good ambassador seemed too polite, or aloof, or plain oblivious, to either notice or reciprocate.

On my other side, none other than Sunny Hooves had placed herself, looking surprisingly at ease with the arrangement, choosing to watch each of my cabinet with interest. Next to her was Blueblood; past him was Green Thumb, inspecting something on her stack of notes intently, likely last-minute acquainting herself with something or other I’d have asked her to report on. At the end of the line, Fountain Quill was apparently doodling aimlessly on his own parchments out of boredom.

Headcount complete, I glanced down at my own notes for the meeting one last time; confident I hadn’t missed anything to my knowledge, I slapped the table lightly in self-satisfaction, which doubled as my signal to my subordinates to finally get to the real meat and bones of this whole sordid affair – each head in the room swivelled to me, the room instantly falling silent.

“Alright, everyone,” I began, standing up out of my chair with my notes in hand. “Let’s keep this as short as we can. I trust everyone has had a chance to go over their notes as well as the agenda for today?”

“Yes, First Minister,” chorused the room.

“Excellent,” I said. “Let’s begin then. Our first point: the state of the nation’s agriculture. Secretary Green Thumb, you have the floor.”

I didn’t deign to sit back down, instead gesturing at the pony in question, who took in a deep breath to steady her nerves before she, too, rose to stand. “First Minister,” she began, glancing around the room. “Ministers; secretaries. I doubt I have to restate the affairs that led us to where we stand now.” I glanced at High Roller, who cocked his head to the side, but neither of us chose to correct her. “The early stage of our current harvest season, in addition to expected climate conditions, will make the next seven to ten months somewhat more challenging than even our previous season.” My mood soured. This was precisely the opposite of what I had hoped for. I supposed I could take solace in the fact things were not already immediately collapsing – as subterranean as that bar might have been. “Our winter crops have been seeded and are growing well so far; projected yields are within previous estimates.”

The seeming contradiction gave me pause. “Is that not a good thing?” I asked. “‘Our food is growing as it should’ doesn’t warrant such doom and gloom, I think, as you began with.”

“That is because I am not finished yet, First Minister,” Green Thumb reprimanded, as gently as she could, presumably not wanting to piss me off. “If I may continue: yes, our crops are growing, and yes, they should give us what we think they would have – but this is winter, with all respect. Without a centralised weather control apparatus, there always exists a chance a cold snap, or simple blizzards, will scuttle our entire food supply for almost half a year. A second point – these are winter crops. They are food, yes; potatoes and grains have calories, but they aren’t one-meal-fits-all. Nutrition is just as important.”

I couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at what was rapidly starting to sound like a hippie sales pitch, even though I knew she was completely right. Potatoes twice a day for five months did not sound very appealing. Despite my heritage. “That sounds like a problem we will have when the next harvest comes around,” I noted. “Is there anything we should know now?”

“Other than what difficulties the weather will present us? Yes,” she said, throwing me for a loop. “The area of land worked for agriculture continues to grow, even now. The scale of the complex necessitated instating a hierarchy of operations for the complex. Due to a lack of adequately-trained personnel, I have had to assume the role of chief supervisor, temporarily.” The way Green Thumb emphasised the last word didn’t escape my ears. Apparently the good secretary did not seem to be a fan of nationalised industry – at least to the extent of literally owning the industry wholesale – which was a shame, considering my intentions for the agricultural sector of my nation.

“Good,” I said instead. “The sooner our agriculture stops being a communal affair and starts being left to actual experts in the field, the better. I’d suggest you remain in your role indefinitely, Secretary -” at which said pony’s eyes widened, clearly not expecting me to support her decision “- but if that causes conflict with your governmental duties then feel free to seek out a replacement for that post.”

“…Yes, First Minister,” was Green Thumb’s eventual reply, the pony now seeming much more at ease with matters – apparently it wasn’t a fear of state capitalism, but what my reaction to having set it up without my prior (explicit) approval would have been. “Moving on – given the rate of expansion, and assuming it remains constant throughout the season, I estimate the harvest following our next could feed as many as five thousand, possibly six.”

That gave me pause. It hadn’t been too long ago when Construct had given me a figure just about half that – either the land was ploughing itself, or half the Free State was still working the fields like back in the bad old days. “That sounds like quite the breakneck speed,” I noted.

“Less than you might think. Four months is a lot of time.” That point was sound, I had to admit. I nodded my comprehension. “My final points,” continued Green Thumb. “The experiment, concerning the First Minister’s hypothesis regarding his magic-less line of crops, appears to be a success.” My eyes sparkled in sudden, powerful interest. “Despite being harvested last season by ponies, and planted in the current one also by ponies, they continue to grow normally, despite the normally-prohibitively inert mana field of the area. Effectively, our crops are of the variety that only require soil conditions to be taken into consideration, and no thaumaturgical ones.”

“Incredible…” Blueblood simply could not contain himself, it seemed; his quiet, awed mutter was nevertheless heard by everyone in the room. “Crops that can be grown anywhere… imagine the possibilities of such a breakthrough!”

“Of course,” the Minister for the Interior broke in, for the first time – an angry scowl on her muzzle. “Equestria immediately believes itself entitled to the fruits of our labours. As if we will simply supplicate ourselves in front of you and hoof you gifts on silver platters!”

“That…” Blueblood faltered for a moment, both broken out of his inner reverie and caught off-guard by the sudden hostility, but quickly recovered, levelling a cool glare of his own at Whisker. “That is not what this is about, Minister. I was not suggesting anything of the sort, was I?”

“Oh, we all know you wouldn’t ever do it out in the open,” snapped Whisker, slapping a hoof onto the table with an audible rap. “Ponies like you just love to dance about the issue with your honeyed words and cordial suggestions, after all!”

“That’s enough,” I spoke – and all at once, the room was silent. Both Whisker and Blueblood looked to me, one considerably more apologetic than the other, but I motioned for both to cool down. “Minister Whisker, calm yourself. Ambassador Blueblood is right; our efforts have created perhaps the biggest breakthrough in Equestrian agriculture for a millennium. That certainly isn’t no reason to celebrate.” Then, I swung my gaze to the good ambassador. “And Minister Whisker is right – this is a Free State breakthrough, and we will share it, or not, at our own discretion, and none other.”

“But surely,” tried Blueblood, “you can see-”

“Yes,” I interrupted, rather unkindly. “I can. The fact of the matter, though, is that, despite our circumstances, our line of crops is presently the Free State’s most important strategic resource – and I certainly do not intend to merely give such an advantage away, not without damn good reason… or damn good compensation.” I resisted an urge to smirk. Fat stacks of Equestrian cash would, after all, be a strategic resource all of its own, particularly with us continuing to be broke – and it would, too, make the lives of a whole lot of ponies a whole lot easier.

No such offers were made. Blueblood instead sank down into his seat, carefully schooling his expression into a disinterested neutrality. I turned my gaze back to Green Thumb, who made a shrugging motion. “That is all I have for you, First Minister,” she said.

“I see. Thank you for your report, Secretary.” I looked around the room at each of my subordinates. “Does anyone here have any questions regarding this topic for Secretary Green Thumb?”

“I do,” said High Roller. “You spoke earlier of affairs that ‘led us where we are now.’” I grimaced. “What, exactly, do you mean by that?”

“A sudden influx of hundreds of ponies to the Free State within the first month of its founding,” explained Green Thumb. “Our food supply was direly insufficient to handle that. Despite the First Minister’s best efforts, four ponies succumbed to starvation before affairs improved.”

“I see,” said High Roller, tipping his head downward in thought. “No more questions, Secretary.”

…That was far more generous an assessment of what had actually happened than I thought Green Thumb would say. I couldn’t stop myself from giving her an incredulous glance. “Uh… yes,” I fumbled. “Right. If that’s all…?” Silence. “Good. Moving on to point two: food distribution.”

I paused to gather myself; glancing around, though, I saw that more than one pony was left clueless as to why I was bringing this up. “With the rapid growth of the Free State’s population, we have more and more mouths to feed. And with the current state of rationing in effect, there is only one place in all of Bastion, and thus effectively the entire State, where they can go to eat. This is no longer tenable,” I declared. “We need to figure out something to relieve the strain on the single building that is holding our rationing and distribution system together.”

Construct took over for me here – this should really have fallen to Minister Whisker, but evidently not all of her responsibilities had been formally handed over yet. “The obvious solution is to construct a second building for this purpose,” she began. “It will take some time, depending on the ponypower we allocate to it, and it will only defer the issue for as long as the Free State continues to grow, but it would mean we would not have to do anything more or less regarding our current policy. Alternatively, we could simply end rationing entirely, and trust in our population not to hoard or over-consume.”

“An okay idea and a terrible idea,” I summarised. “There has to be something better.”

Construct shrugged. “I apologise, First Minister, but that is all I have.”

...Well, shit. If even Construct couldn’t figure this brain-melter out, then we were definitely up Shit Creek. My whole cabinet, predictably, then turned to me. “First Minister?” Damn near half the room spoke at once.

I inhaled. “…I suppose we have to choose the best of a bad bunch here,” I decided. “Go with the additional construction, Second Minister. We can work on a more permanent solution at a later date.”

“Yes, First Minister,” she said, starting to jot the note down before remembering that Secretary Quill was already taking minutes; the quill dropped from her mouth as quickly as it was taken, with a sheepish expression that was rather out of place on her.

I ignored it. “Right then, point three: delineating the responsibilities of each of you here now.”

“About time,” murmured Fountain Quill, not quite silent; wry nods and smiles met his exclamation, though, mine foremost among them.

“Indeed,” I remarked. “Though I should hope some of you should already be pretty acquainted with what your position entails – after all, it’s tough to imagine Secretary Green Thumb giving me pointers on military doctrine, isn’t it? But I digress,” I dismissed, waving a hand in the air. “We’ll start from the top.

“First Minister – me.” I gestured at my chest, perhaps a little needlessly. “I doubt I have to explain very much; the First Minister is, at present at least, head of state and government, with the cabinet and whatever representative body the Free State will end up with both subordinated to him.” Then, I pointed to Construct. “Second Minister – Sturdy Construct. My replacement if I suddenly keel over dead, for the sake of government continuation; presently doing much of my Minister for the Interior’s work, and in the process of handing it over to them.” A snap decision led me to continue. “Eventually, they will end up as head of government, at the head of the aforementioned representative body.”

Construct stiffened, but didn’t say anything – that honour went to Blueblood. “That sounds like more than a little of an Equestrian-style diarchy, First Minister,” he said.

The comparison didn’t faze me in the slightest. “Perhaps at first glance,” I dismissed. “Though in the absence of either a constitution, or an actual governing body besides myself, sounding like it is all it does. We will implement a more robust system at a later date. Continuing -” I moved swiftly on “- to Minister for the Interior – Whisker. Responsible for a vast majority of how the Free State government apparatus actually runs, and how: relaying information to and from their subordinate secretaries, and myself or the Second Minister. More importantly, responsible for implementing the policy I, the Second Minister, and any other Ministers decide and-slash-or agree on – including yourself, of course.”

“And the secretaries?” prompted Whisker, glancing over the table at Quill, Sunny Hooves and Green Thumb, who were now theoretically under her in the hierarchy.

“I am sure whoever you appoint as a secretary will know enough about their field to advise you if you should require it,” I replied. “I leave the responsibility of instructing your subordinates on how to implement government policy to you.” Whisker’s eyes widened in understanding, and she retreated back into a neutral pose in her seat. The less micromanagement I had to do regarding the precise and exact make-up of my entire cabinet, the better – let the secretaries fight with their ministers, rather than my ministers with me.

“Anyway,” I kept going. “Secretary for Agriculture – Green Thumb. Self-explanatory, I should hope?” I gestured to the sheaf of paper in front of the pony in question, who returned my gesture with a wry smile and a nod. “Good. Secretary for Immigration and Citizenship – Fountain Quill. Responsible for implementing immigration policy and the process for granting citizenship to foreign nationals; at the moment, very much hands-on, or hooves-on if you prefer, until an official department for immigration and corresponding buildings are established. The State’s small enough that you shouldn’t be too overworked until that happens.” I huffed a breath through my nose; talk about tempting fate. I really should have known better than to say that. “With any luck.”

For the first time, I gestured to Sunny Hooves. “And our new Secretary for Education – Sunny Hooves. Formerly a schoolteacher herself, and until she can find a pony to take that job over for her she will probably remain as one over her new duties. Responsible for implementing education policy, and oversight of the Free State education system in general.”

I paused to take a sip of water, once more glancing around the room. The mood seemed to me to be rather positive; the room was glancing over at Sunny with something akin to approval – which, I had to be honest, was a refreshing change compared to effusive praise of the same sort being aimed my way, utterly undeserved. The thought struck me, then, that in reality, every single one of the ponies in this room was more deserving of the position of First Minister than I was – most of all Construct and her seemingly-bottomless competence. Blueblood might have been a tough sell, but he was a connected aristocrat, knowing how to grease palms and smooth over unfortunate indiscretions. Sunny Hooves had first-hand experience in wrangling idiot children who thought they knew best – a natural fit for the highest offices in the land. Even Whisker appeared to be slowly, but surely, maturing into a competent administrator, with Construct’s assistance. It was almost enough to give a guy an inferiority complex. I had to content myself with the knowledge that I was the one to assemble them all in one place to begin with.

Regardless, there was one more name on the list I had to get out of the way before we could continue moving. “Now, to finish off, the new Minister for the Treasury – High Roller-”

I’d barely gotten the last syllable of his name out before Blueblood leapt out of his seat in shock. “What?!” he all but screamed, slamming his forehooves onto the desk. “First Minister, have you lost your mind? Lord High Roller as the head of your entire nation’s finances?” The ambassador shot a truly filthy look High Roller’s way, who only sighed in resignation in response. “Never mind the allegations surrounding him to begin with, but you intend to allow a wanted criminal into your cabinet?!”

“The highly exaggerated allegations and mostly baseless charges, Ambassador,” reminded High Roller, remaining cool in the face of Blueblood’s rather more incendiary accusation – one which I was still recovering from.

“Charges?” I asked.

Once more, the room fell to total silence. High Roller and Blueblood both glanced at each other, with varying degrees of disdain. The former, sensing the good ambassador was fully intending on talking first whether or not that entailed talking over him, let it rest and leaned back. “Embezzlement, fraud, bribery, employment corruption, voter suppression, all with enough evidence to throw High Roller into a dungeon for the rest of his life, if not worse. And those are only the criminal charges, to say nothing of the moral ones.” Blueblood certainly seemed to be laying it on thick for us; far from concerning me, though, all it made me ponder was if there had been some previous political rivalry between the two. All the same…

High Roller sighed and fixed his immensely more tired gaze on me. “Like I said, First Minister,” he said, “as totally as possible. Once one falls out of favour of the majority, they will remove you as quickly as they possibly can.”

“I’m not hearing you deny any of those charges, Minister,” I said.

“I only deny their magnitude,” he replied.

...Fantastic. Needless to say, I had not been aware of this. The financial crime was bad enough, even if it ‘wasn’t really that bad, honest,’ but just straight-up blatant corruption like electoral shenanigans? As a treasury department head, who theoretically has no business being anywhere near things like that? Never mind appointing a person who was that badly wanted by foreign law enforcement, and possibly their secret police too. An administrator, even one as skilled as High Roller implied himself to be, was not going to be worth that level of hassle.

…Nevertheless, I hesitated. Leaving him where he was, was undoubtedly going to cause massive problems for us down the line. If not a relapse into his former nefarious deeds, then Equestrian headaches, or regular Joe Scumfucks finding out I’d hand-picked a corrupt-as-balls former Equestrian noble to be in charge of their pocketbooks – and yet, the fact remained that I was in dire need of manpower. Competent, knowledgeable people who could implement the fairy tales I’d been spinning for the most part until that point. And I had figured High Roller would have been one of those ponies. And, a little part of my mind chimed in, electoral shenanigans by a financial head did smack just a bit of improbability, of the highly-exaggerated sort, as the stallion suggested.

I glanced around. The only fierce opposition to his presence here seemed to be Blueblood – who, truth be told, I had significantly less reason not to piss off than anyone else here. Everyone else was either assessing Roller, or looking my way and waiting for my own decree – which I soon came to a decision with.

“My new Minister for the Treasury,” I repeated, hiding the timidity that tried to sneak in behind a veil of flat affect. “High Roller.” I didn’t let Blueblood start his sputtering again. “Control yourself, Ambassador,” I spoke, over his ineffectual whining. “I do not answer to you, and neither does the Free State answer to Equestria. In our territory, High Roller is a free pony. This discussion is over.”

My needless flaunting of authority I barely possessed did not seem to impress. A short silence passed, before Blueblood rose up out of his seat, shot the two of us nasty looks, and turned to head out the door. I kept my expression neutral despite a fierce desire to grimace at the walk-out – oh goodness, he even slammed the door! – given that he was unfortunately, at the end of the day, one of the most important figures in the Free State. I was probably going to have to bend over backwards in some way to sweep my little cock-up under the rug, wasn’t I?

Nevertheless I continued. “Minister High Roller will be responsible for the nation’s finances, financial policy, revenue collection, customs, and so forth. And little else.” I shot a look at him, which he didn’t react to in the slightest. Not heartening to see at all. “At the moment, Treasury does not have any subordinated secretariats; I’ll leave the task of deciding how you want to run your department to you, given your substantial experience in the field. So long as you implement what I ask of you.” That, naturally, got a reaction – High Roller nodded, with a satisfied smile.

“And speaking of the Ministry of the Treasury,” I segued nicely, “our next point happens to be the Free State’s financial situation. Which, as you probably already know… isn’t great.” I steepled my hands in front of my face, staring at the far end of the table grimly. “We’re broke, and our liquidity is for dogshit. About all we have to our name is food, which I’m quite reluctant to auction off for obvious reasons.”

I glanced at my Secretary for Agriculture, curious to see if she had anything to interject, but like the rest of the room, Green Thumb was perfectly fine simply listening rapturously. “I’d say it’s about time we start rectifying this. I’ve cracked wise about Free State bucks in the past, but… quite honestly that is about the most attractive solution I can think of at present. Since our food supply is our de facto monetary store, given we effectively pay our population with it already, we might as well formalise it into a representative currency.”

The room fell into silence as I finished – for all of about two seconds. “Pardon?” said both High Roller and Green Thumb, in unison. Only the former continued speaking, though. “You mean to say that you intend to… what, create a bit backed by grain?” The incredulity came through loud and clear in his tone. Admittedly, I didn’t exactly have high hopes for success, but I did at least figure it would hold together for long enough for my true plan to become feasible instead.

While High Roller was busy giving Green Thumb a look screaming ‘is this guy for real,’ I continued. “Not exactly. Partly, I guess. I was thinking more a currency backed by nutrition of any sort. Something along the lines of ‘one dollar worth one day’s worth of food.’ Straightforward enough.” I shrugged. “Simple enough to convert, too, I figure. It’s not like we can set up a gold standard here, in any case, and I’d rather not us devolve into bartering.”

High Roller’s expression did not fill me with hope. “It’s… possible,” he admitted, with all the confidence of a veteran kamikaze pilot. “Nutrition is perishable, though. Bullion doesn’t go bad. Doesn’t grow, either.”

“A temporary solution,” I conceded, “until a better alternative can be found. If nothing else, it might at least let us build on our current rationing system, as a superstructure of sorts. Really, the only thing I’m looking for is for it to be robust enough that ponies have faith in it and actually treat it like currency.” That, after all, being half the point of a monetary system – which shouldn't have been a big problem, to my mind. Everyone needs food, after all. So long as people didn't get greedy, and so long as the amount of money corresponded exactly to the amount of food it could buy…

“It will be an interesting experiment,” concluded High Roller. The faint praise didn't escape me, but in fairness it was almost certainly well-earned. Even lumber would have been a better commodity to peg a dollar to, now that I thought about it – but food was more convenient to slot into our existing infrastructure, I'd figured. So, food it was.

“I'll leave the specifics to you, Minister Roller,” I told him. With any luck his competence had not been exaggerated. “The sooner we have a currency we can exchange for bits, the better. Which brings me to my next point.”

I suppressed an urge to let my expression fall. Not for the first time, my doubts and worries were forcing themselves into the forefront of my mind. I did my best to push through them. “Our industrial expansion needs to be a priority,” I stated. “One sawmill is an excellent start, for a mostly-forested city-state, but it won't make a nation prosperous on its own. We need to expand, and we need to diversify.

“Here's the plan,” I started. “Our food is a strategic resource, which makes me extremely reluctant to sell it off. So instead, we use the products our sawmill workers make as assets to sell instead.” Simplicity itself – except for the implication of ‘nationalise everything!’ by doing so. A command economy was very much something I did not want.

Construct frowned after a few moments. “That's… it?” she asked, only a touch incredulous. “Sell our lumber? And… carpentry, perhaps…” I could see the idea gaining traction in real time. “I… suppose that may bring a few bits in.”

“Enough to buy the materials we need to expand further?” I lead on.

“With any luck,” she agreed – to, admittedly, some surprise on my part. Then again, with how wealthy Equestria was, perhaps it would be a given things would be rather cheap there. “Should we also sell some of our lumber stockpile as well?”

An excellent question. “Assuming we're not in desperate need of more housing any longer, I don't see the harm,” I replied. “We can split our production between domestic and export, so to speak, if absolutely necessary. And once we buy what we need from Equestria, our production will expand in turn anyway.” I nodded to myself at the idea. It was a… serviceable plan, to my mind. Play to our strengths, avoid stretching our food supply, use the money to make even more money. Simplicity itself. My agreeing with myself seemed to compel the rest of my cabinet to nod along, throwing glances at each other which I chose to interpret as generally agreeing with the idea as well. “Theoretically, the Secretary of Industry would take care of this, but since we don’t have one as of now-”

“I’ll have to take over in their stead?” finished Construct, which got a few knowing chuckles out of the rest of the room. Already, my opinion of her seemed to be spreading to the rest of my subordinates.

This time, though, I shook my head. “Not this time. The Minister of the Interior should be sufficiently able to handle oversight for this.” I looked over to Whisker, who, to her credit, did not look as surprised or disquieted as I’d expected her to.

“Oh, ah, yes,” she said, just a little too quickly, with an accompanying too-quick nod. “Of course, First Minister.”

I hummed a wordless acknowledgement. It shouldn’t have been too difficult an assignment, to my mind, if perhaps a little out of her purview. Directly, anyway. But Industry was subordinated to her, so theoretically she was next in line in terms of responsibility. With any luck she’d learned enough from Construct in the time she’d had with her. “Perhaps a Secretary for Industry might be a good idea to start headhunting, then, once we start expanding more rapidly,” I said. “That, I will leave to you, Second Minister.”

“Of course,” said Construct with another nod.

Alright. Looking good so far. The lack of stress that came with not having to oversee terribly much personally was an incredibly welcome feeling. As boring as talking and talking and talking about things was, I couldn’t deny it could have been a lot worse – even if I struggled to imagine exactly how. Probably signing pointless paperwork. I was actually kind of looking forward to what my people were going to do.

“Right,” I exclaimed to re-centre my thoughts, with an accompanying slap of a hand against the table. “One last thing for us today: the constitution.” A few ponies’ ears twitched; Construct’s, Whisker’s, and Fountain Quill’s, specifically. Almost in unison, in fact, which I found quite distracting. “Based on what was discussed during our first constitutional convention a few weeks ago, I’ve drafted a rough sketch, for lack of a better term, of what our constitution will… entail, I guess.”

And here it was – a set of exactly three sheets of paper, with a reasonably comprehensive outline of what it’ll look like, if written in somewhat abridged shorthand. I passed it to Construct on my right, who got to work reading through it with a keen eye immediately. “Pass it along when you’re done,” I told her, and got an absent hum back.

In truth, I still worried it was too lightweight. The complete basics, that being ‘the Free State is a republic, borders outlined in so-and-so document, capital so-and-so,’ that kind of thing. Governmental structure, rights afforded to citizens, what citizens actually are and how they become such. Y’know, usual constitution stuff. But, of course, this was my first time writing one from scratch – drafting one, I reminded myself. Mistakes would happen, without a doubt. That was what my subordinates were for.

Construct passed it along, giving me look I couldn’t decipher. “It looks good to me,” she told me.

Which was instantly a massive, almost existential relief. My clueless fumbling had the goddamn Second Minister’s approval! So, I reckoned it couldn’t have been too poor to use as a baseline. No doubt I was soon going to spend more than a few mornings and/or evenings with her hammering it out in legalese and filling in all the gaps. Perhaps a few more ponies in tow too.

I watched intently as the document made its way around the table, particularly ponies’ reaction to it. Approval all round, so far. I supposed it was a little difficult to make an onerous first draft of a document, admittedly, but the initial reaction was promising enough. And, of course, if we did end up with things falling through the cracks, we could always simply have passed a law or amend the thing directly.

...Right. Yes. How things usually work, then. I really was taking things a little too much top-down, wasn’t I? A good reminder to stop worrying so much about getting things right the first time, perhaps. Which, in my defense, was the opposite lesson drilled into my head so far during my time as First Minister.

Eventually, the sheets made their way back into my hands. I stuck it in front of me and met each of my ponies’ gazes in turn. “Thoughts?”

Not many, it seemed. Yet more fucking nodding was all I got. Mindless agreement was not exactly what I was looking for, here! Was it too much to ask for, for some goddamn honest criticism? I resisted the urge to groan in annoyance, instead contenting myself with some sharp, pointed hand gestures.

“This was all your idea, First Minister,” Construct reminded me. “We work for you, not the other way around.” She did not look impressed at my insistence. Her wings rustled subtly, but I thought I was the only one to notice.

As always, she was absolutely correct. Nation-building was, indeed, precisely and exclusively my idea. This, right here, was exactly the purpose of my damn job to begin with. I had made the mistake of assuming my underlings were one-hundred percent as dedicated to my goals as I was, instead of the rather more reasonable reality of carrying out the jobs I’d delegated to them so I could, in fact, focus more of my time on exactly this topic.

I had no choice but to relent. “Alright,” I vacillated. “Alright. If there’s no serious objections…” There were not. “Then I can start work on a first draft of the actual Constitution of the Free State based on this. We will put it up to a vote before it goes into effect.”

More general agreement. Guess that meant the consequences, whatever they would end up being, would be entirely on my shoulders for this. Better get it right the first time then… came the thought from the pessimistic… majority of my brain. Part of the job, I guessed. Then again, I doubted anyone would have anything to compare it to, here, except maybe to how well Celestia and Equestria were doing. Which was likely an incredibly low bar, given how much of my population was virulently opposed to both already.

…Maybe I was worrying too much about this.

“Okay,” I finally said. “That’s all I have for us. Second Minister, stay here please. The rest of you are free to go.”

That was a little more brusque than I normally ended meetings like this with, but… whatever. Construct gave me another look, this time more wary, defensive. Most likely she thought I was about to be petty and reprimand her for not taking her job seriously. Not so.

I waited until we were alone. Sunny Hooves was the last to leave, still a little uncomfortable with treading ground in the highest halls of power of a nation if I had to guess. The second those doors shut, I slumped in my seat and sighed a long, long sigh.

Which was not something the good Second Minister had been expecting. Her brow creased, and her ears tipped back. “First Minister?”

My tired eyes met hers. To my knowledge, she did not yet know the full run-down on what had happened just a few days previously. She hadn’t been there, after all, having run the country for the day in my absence. However little that may have entailed these days, but she did. I doubted Fountain Quill or Blueblood had told her, either, presumably having had better things to do with their time. So, it fell to me once again to share my conclusions with her.

Oh, boy. “Second Minister,” I said. “I have strong reason to believe elements of the Equestrian government will very soon become hostile to the existence of the Free State in general, and my leadership of it in particular.”

Silence was what I’d expected in the wake of that – and it was exactly what I got. Construct stared at me, uncomprehending, as if I’d suddenly started speaking in Lithuanian. I kept her gaze steadily. I did not elaborate. Eventually, the notion started sprouting in her mind that I might well have been serious.

Once again, she exceeded my expectations (which I really should have gotten used to sooner) by not immediately dismissing me as insane. “Why do you believe that?” she asked instead.

I sighed a second time. “My roommate, who happens to help in raising my adoptive foals, has turned out to be the daughter of a figure high up in the Equestrian government and aristocracy. A figure who expressed considerable interest in returning her to his care, to face justice for some sham crime or another, up to the point of implicitly threatening my children’s safety to my face.” The matter-of-fact way I said that did more to convince her of the truth of the matter than any amount of assurances I could have given her. Her eyes widened considerably; this time, the rustling of her wings was audible as well as visible. “Believe me, Second Minister, I wish I was making this up. The figure in question happens to be the editor-in-chief of Equestria’s most popular newspaper-”

“Lord Heartstrings?” exclaimed Construct. I hadn’t known she knew who that was, but I nevertheless nodded in confirmation. “She… you mean Lyra? She’s his daughter?” I nodded again. “Sweet Celestia…” Probably the foals, my mind snarked, well-timed indeed. Maternal instincts kicking in. I shook the thoughts off. Not the time.

“Not only that,” I continued, “but…” I chose my words very carefully. A secret police potentially hounding us was not something I wanted to distract Construct, or the rest of my budding government, with right now. “Well. I am sure you can understand how… well-connected Heartstrings may be. The Free State may soon find itself under siege from non-conventional methods. Possibly as well as more traditional… well, war.” As unlikely as that may have been, I couldn’t discount it. Piss off another country enough, and anything was possible. “Though I confess that does seem highly unlikely even to my paranoid ass.”

“What do you suggest we do?” Construct asked then, in a tone much more pleading than I was comfortable with. Not much – but even ‘not much’ was too much from her.

A third sigh escaped me. “We can no longer assume Equestrian good-will in perpetuity. Defense just got bumped up high on the priority list. Conventional and otherwise.” I made a vague hand gesture in the air, watching my fingers twirl in the air with a curious sense of detached intrigue. “I want you to start making some inquiries regarding setting up a… um, what will eventually become a citizen militia. I’d normally hesitate to make it obligatory service, but I reckon there shouldn’t be too much pushback on at least a few weekends of basic training a year, minimum.”

“National guard,” she concluded, to my concealed surprise. “Got it.” How did she know that was what I was going for? Did… Equestria probably did have something like that, now that I thought about it. Somewhere. I had to admit, I wasn’t very knowledgeable in that subject matter. Ironically, given my personal experience. “And… otherwise, First Minister?”

“Yeah,” I continued. “In a word, counter-intelligence. I don’t want Equestrian spies on the aristocracy’s orders coming over here and making our lives more difficult. Fuckin’… what’s his name was enough for me.” Another dismissive hand gesture.

This time, Construct was not so confident. “I’ll… see what I can do, First Minister,” she said. Right, the concept was probably quite foreign to her, general competence notwithstanding.

“I’ll probably involve myself a little more in that field personally, anyway,” I told her. “If you need any help, I’m sure I could at least brainstorm something with you.” I didn’t have much, or rather any personal experience in espionage, but then again I did come from a society comparatively chock-full of it. Something might have gone through just on osmosis alone. And, of course, Lyra herself might have something to say about it too…

Christ Almighty. I did not just seriously consider bringing her into my government as a goddamn spook. Tell me I didn’t just do that…

Construct ignored my mental discombobulation. “As you say, First Minister,” she said.

That was my prompt to gather myself, and therefore discover that was all I needed to tell her. “Thank you, Second Minister,” I said. “That was all I had for you. You’re free to go.” One final nod was what I got from her, before she rose to her hooves, gathered her notes and things, and departed.

I was left all on my lonesome, at the head of an oval table, staring into its surface. All of a sudden, being First Minister did not seem like so much fun and games. Worrying about nation-building, industry, food security, housing, education, foreign affairs, now the possibility of subversive infiltration in my very own nation… it was enough to make me feel ill. Not for the first time I toyed with the idea of dumping this all in a bin and fucking off back to Canterlot.

As if that was even an option, any longer. Not with fourteen hundred people counting on me for their futures. Not with two kids counting on me for their futures. I felt very, very old.

How in the world did Celestia do it?

1. Prologue I – An Elaborate Hoax

The first thing that came to my mind when I woke up this morning was, it's gonna be a long day today.

Certainly the insistent headache that was typical of the previous night being spent perhaps too merrily had a hand in these matters, not to mention that the ‘morning’ I had unfortunately woken up to would have more accurately been described as night – and waking up before it was strictly necessary to do so never failed to foul my mood. Mostly though, the thought had come to me because it came to me every single morning without fail, regardless of its truthfulness, or even cause.

Sighing in irritation, I groggily peeled the bedsheets off of myself and sat up, willing my head to keep together long enough to down some water. Fortunately, that last night I had been thoughtful enough to forget to undress myself before retiring to bed, which at least saved me the bother of finding and squeezing into my clothes... and leaving me with the bothers of needing to wash both them and myself instead.

I eventually came up with the good sense to turn on some lights, to at least start making some sense out of the day, and flicked on my bedside lamp, which I was heartened to find was still where it was supposed to be. Having regained my sight, I chanced standing up fully, resisted my head’s clarion call to keel over, and took stock of my bedroom.

Bed, desk with chair, drawers, sofa covered in random crap… didn’t look like anything had hit the fan. Good, good. Not that I had expected anything to have done so – I was a damn quiet drunk, alone, and of course nobody had been invited by me, or had even just shown up. The nearest settlement being a good day’s walk away tended to discourage nosy neighbours. At the very least I hadn’t seen any recently enough to remember.

Shambling over to the kitchen, I poured out some water from a jar into a cup – and most of the rest into my face – and drank greedily. The shock of the cold water hitting my face as well as my throat served to finally jolt me into the land of the functionally-awake, allowing me to finally make sense of the reflection in the jar.

Incidentally, if you’re just joining me now, hello. Name’s Adam Inns (technically an alias, but that’s what I went by here), sole human of Equestria, as well as the entire planet. I won’t bore you with the specifics of the whole sordid affair – I was quietly minding my own business on Earth, when I was suddenly crapped out of my home universe and into a really fancy bathroom in another one. A few weeks of confusion and frustration later, I was gifted my very own cabin in the woods by the God-Empress of the Sun herself. (Technically a few hundred meters away from them, but whatever.)

My reflection was decidedly less impressive than my origin story. A head of greasy shoulder-length brown hair; disinterested eyes safe behind a pair of glasses of a prescription that was, by now, three-and-a-half years out of date; stubble on my chin and upper lip that I hoped looked better than it usually did on me. My clothing was similarly bland: a plain, dark grey T-shirt and a lighter set of sweatpants, both well-aged but adequately taken care of, though perhaps smellier than usual. I didn’t put much effort into maintaining my appearance, partly out of my general apathy but mostly because my appearance didn’t bother me, and I didn’t partake in social interaction frequently enough for it to really bother anyone else.

Most of my days here were spent reading, wandering the forest, and occasionally distilling some truly horrendous moonshine from what I could forage or grow at home. I was more-or-less self-sufficient by now, about two years or so after I set up shop here, only going to the nearby hamlets to trade when I was in need of more advanced goods, like books, clothes, food I couldn't grow myself, and what have you. I traded most of my moonshine to them for it, in fact. (The rest, the more exotic stuff, I kept for myself.)

Anyway. Today was shaping up to be yet another day in Equestria. I cleaned myself up, changed into my reserve clothes to replace my filthy usual set, and after a quick breakfast of two raw potatoes – don’t judge me, it works – I finally stepped foot outside my cabin, and took my usual inspection of my property.

It was as heartwarmingly underwhelming as it always was. A sizeable chunk of land off to the side was covered in crops, just a few weeks away from harvest time. A flagpole was set up just a few metres away from my front door, where a piece of dark red fabric with a thin white stripe painted down it flew proudly. One half of the horizon was dominated by a canopy of trees that seemed to glow in the dawn, and the other half was green hills and meadows as far as the eye could see. I was just as awestruck as I was the first time I arrived here.

Oop, hang on a minute. I squinted into the meadows a fair distance, where I could just make out the silhouettes of a gaggle of ponies, coming my way.

Now that was odd. I didn’t get many visitors, since I lived about eight hours or so away from the nearest settlement, a tiny little hamlet that had a train station despite their population being in the double digits. Neither did I make a habit of inviting ponies to my cabin. The only real regular contact I got from anyone was with Princess Celestia, who sometimes stopped by to get away from the stress of running everything for a while, or failing that with the mailpony who delivered her occasional letters to me.

The group was now getting close enough to make out. It was a group of seven, two of each of the pony races, as well as a third earth pony who seemed to be leading them. They were all decked out in fancy golden armour, telegraphing their status as Royal Guard.

“Mornin’, gentlemen!” I called out, when they got within earshot. “Comin’ my way? What can I do you for today?”

The group finally reached me. They kept their distance, mostly content to just look around. Their leader, a white stallion with a blue mane (which didn’t narrow it down much) kept going, walking right up to me, offering a hoof. I shook it – no sense in being rude.

“Good morning, sir. Commander Fleethoof of the Royal Guards." My eyebrows raised. A commander in the Royal Guard, as far as I understood matters, was a very high position in the hierarchy; this pony was definitely important – but commander was an administrative position, not really suited to field work. What was he doing here, in front of me? “Terribly sorry to bother you, sir, but… ah, we’ve received some odd reports from witnesses in this area and, uhm...” He seemed to have trouble putting his thoughts into words. No wonder they shunted him off to a desk job. “Well. We’re just here to make sure you’re not trying to invade Equestria.”

Uh.

What?

“What?” I blurted. “What’s this come from?”

Fleethoof looked distinctly uncomfortable. His companions shuffled about awkwardly. One of them, I saw, was stifling his laughter. “Well, it’s just that… apparently, some ponies were in this area, and saw your… flag flying. I’m guessing that, since it wasn’t the flag of Equestria… well. Some ponies… right?”

I heard someone behind Fleethoof snort, which made him cringe. I had to force myself to keep a blank expression. “Right. Some ponies.” You know what? I thought. Fuck it. If today’s gonna be crap, I’m gonna have some fun along the way. I inhaled deeply, and let out an explosive sigh.

“Well, you got me. I officially claim this land in the name of the Free State of Awesome Humanity, headed by me: the Supreme Overlord of All Mankind. You may bow.” I spread my arms wide in a suitably pretentious manner, to complement my faux-haughty, ‘kneel, foolish mortals’ manner of speech.

The snickering behind Commander Fleethoof stopped. He, himself, had snapped his gaze up to me from the ground, eyes wide. His entourage was evidently similarly shocked.

I dropped my arms. “What? Well I thought it was funny,” I muttered that last part to myself. Apparently Fleethoof didn’t hear me, because after yet another awkward pause, he spoke again.

“...Right. We’ll need to get the Crown involved. Stalwart?”

One of the unicorns behind him nodded, and their horn began to glow a bright jade colour. It burst suddenly, forcing me to shield my eyes from the flash. And when I dropped my arm… “Woah!”

Holy crap! Celestia!

“Who is… oh. Hello again, Adam.” The Princess was suddenly in front of me, looking rather nonplussed. She looked around, not seeming to find anything out of the ordinary except for the guards behind her, which only left her more bewildered. “Commander Fleethoof. Why have you called me here?”

“Your Highness!” To his credit, Fleethoof did draw himself up professionally in front of her. “This creature has admitted to attempting to claim sovereignty over Equestrian soil!”

“Is that so?” Celestia was now looking at me. I imagine she would have been quite intimidating if I could see her expression from behind my hand, which I was using to massage my forehead, trying to rub away my embarrassment. Fleethoof cut me off before I could explain.

“Yes, your Highness! They have pronounced themselves the ‘Supreme Overlord of All Mankind’ -“

“A philosophically accurate description of myself, by the way.”

“- under a ‘Free State of Awesome Humanity!’ They clearly need to be stopped before… it...” Fleethoof trailed off, having spotted Celestia clearly trying not to burst out in guffaws. I saw it too, and dropped my hand to stare, empty-eyed, at the Princess.

“Yeah. So, as you can see, I’m clearly not the second coming of Super-Mecha-Death-Sombra Six-Thousand or whatever these idiots seem to think is happening.” I quickly plastered on a cheery smile. “But hey, since you’re here, ye've got a few minutes? Care for some shnyab? Even you, lads,” I gestured to the troop of guards, “assuming her Majesty here will let you?”

Celestia actually considered that for a beat, looking back at them for a moment, then back to me. “Thank you, Adam, I’d like that. However, these guardsponies are still on duty. I’m afraid they must decline.” She punctuated that with a stern look, which they all seemed to understand simultaneously, saluting in unison and about-facing smartly, before setting off with a comparatively unseemly swiftness. Only then did she turn back to me once more. “Shall we?”

I led her inside to the dining area. Neither of us went for any alcohol, despite my offer: Celestia made herself a cup of tea, and I just got some water. I offered to make it for her the first time she visited, but she insisted she wanted to do it herself. Apparently it was a novel experience for her; the sheer thrill of personally doing something so utterly mundane evidently still hadn’t worn off.

My relationship with Celestia was… odd. She had been the first to find me in Canterlot Palace, by virtue of me appearing in her washroom (unoccupied at the time, thank God), and opening the door into her face. Some unpleasantries did occur, though they were quickly disposed of once I made clear my situation. In time, while we were considering exactly what to do with me, I found myself confiding more and more closely with her, as she did with me. Eventually, when my time in Canterlot came to a close, I called her one of my closest friends (and not just because she was one of my only friends). To this day, I have no idea how I managed to pull it off. Perhaps it was more accurate to say that she made friends with me, rather than vice versa.

We exchanged letters regularly. To put it another way, she sent me letters about her life as a horse-sorcerer-goddess, and I replied mostly to let her know I was still kicking – not much happens around here, after all. Occasionally, she’d pop in personally, for a chat, some tea, sometimes a stroll through the surroundings, other times simply reading trashy novels in companionable quiet. I was grateful for her company. Despite my anti-social nature, I did get cravings for some company now and again. It was a mutually-psychologically-beneficial exchange, on top of a close friendship.

We started with some small talk. How we were doing, what new had happened recently. Celestia vented some frustration at some twat or another in the nobility being a dick. The usual sort of stuff. Eventually, though, we moved on to other topics.

“So,” Celestia began, once we were both seated with our drinks, opposite and staring at each other across the table. “What, exactly, was this all about?”

I set my cup of water down, and massaged my forehead again. “I don’t even know, to be honest. Fleethoof told me that somebody was hanging around here and saw my flag flying. And they told the cheese about it. Apparently, they thought someone was invading this random patch of forest to claim it as their own.”

“Haven’t you?” Celestia quipped over her teacup.

I snorted. “I guess so. Not in that sense, though. I mean… where would I even start?” The realisation made me snort again. “Well, I guess that’s exactly where I’d start. Plant a flag on someone else’s shit, the true British way. But no, that’s not what I mean by it. Running a country is boring, anyway.”

“So what do you mean by it?” came the obvious follow-up.

“Two things. One, to mark where I live.” Celestia snickered. “Hey, you laugh, but it’s been more useful than you might think!”

“I’m sure,” she said. “And the second?”

I sighed, suddenly turning pensive. “The second… is to remember. That flag is of the country where I was born. I spent half my life there. Well, not counting my time here. They’re some of the best memories I have, even today. You ever hear the saying? ‘Nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it.’ Well… my home, my family, everything I ever did back there… that’s all gone now. The only thing I have of them left is the memory.” I gave Celestia a thin, brittle smile. “That flag is how I chose to remember it.”

“I see,” she said, sipping her tea, her own expression turned morose.

“Sorry,” I said. “Didn’t mean to bring the mood down. I was always a nostalgic sort.”

“That’s fine.”

A comfortable silence passed over us as I reached for my water. It didn’t last very long, though, as the second I put it back down, Celestia spoke again.

“Besides… ‘Free State of Awesome Humanity?’” Her brow was raised in disbelief. I did at least have the decency to flush.

“Hey, it was the first thing that came to mind! I was never much good at coming up with things on the spot. Not to mention it was also a technically accurate description!”

Celestia merely smiled knowingly. Mercifully, though, she didn’t press on the subject. “What do you mean by ‘first thing that came to mind?’”

At least, that’s how I chose to see it. “I don’t know, actually. I’ve had nation building back on my mind recently, for whatever bloody reason. I guess I just extrapolated from that?”

The smirk disappeared from her face. Now, I had caught her interest. “Nation building?”

“Yeah.” I nodded, deep in thought. “It’s honestly a really fascinating subject. I read some basics on the concept, back home, but that was a good while ago now. You Equestrians don’t have much on it, but I recently got my hands on a treatise on the subject, I think by some griffon chap? It’s not very popular there, as I understand it – griffons being griffons, I suppose – but it does have some interesting stuff in it. Come to think of it, I was quite big on grand strategy games back in the day. Maybe that’s where I got it from.”

“But you said running a country was boring?”

“Well, yeah,” I vacillated. “It is. Running a country you’re given is boring. Actually, no, running a country is boring in any case. But making a country from scratch, now that activates my almonds. So many different little things go into a nation-state, and when you get to make one from the ground up, you can control every single little piece of it. Aesthetics, culture, composition, national symbols. Hell, even fundamentals, like language or morality.” I shook my head, my mood light. “Once they’re set, though, it becomes very difficult to mould, resistant to change. One man rarely succeeds when going against a bureaucracy, and they rarely succeed against cultural norms either. It takes big events with great power to shake things up then, or at the very least a constant stream of ‘one men.’ That's when it gets boring.”

“Do you speak from experience?” Celestia asked, brow furrowed. “Your knowledge has concerning detail to it.”

“Of course not!” I exclaimed in disbelief at her insinuation. “I’m the exact wrong sort of person to turn into a revolutionary, or a fervent ideologue! Most of my ‘experience’ in statesmanship is derived from Civilization Five, for fuck’s sake. It’s not exactly the sort of thing applicable to reality, in any sense of the term. No no, my interest in nation-building is just that: an interest. A mental exercise, nothing more and nothing less.”

“My apologies. I simply didn’t think you’d be interested in subjects such as that,” said Celestia.

“What, geopolitics? Nation-state theory? You know, your Majesty, just because I happened to grow up as a country bumpkin doesn’t mean my interests extend solely to agriculture!”

“I apologise,” said Celestia, feigning contrition. “I did not mean to offend.”

“Hmm. As long as you’re sorry for it.” I crossed my arms, smirking at her to show I wasn’t serious.

An absolutely devilish smirk crawled onto her face, one I hadn’t yet learned the meaning of. “Oh, sir Inns, I do sincerely apologise for so grievously attacking your character. Please, allow me to make amends for my indiscretion.” She set her teacup down, and stood up from her chair.

My own smirk fell off, my lips instead forming a thin line as I narrowed my eyes. “Okay, what -”

“By the power vested in me, I, Princess Celestia, Alicorn of the Sun and Diarch of Equestria, hereby officially recognise the independence of the Free State of Awesome Humanity, under its glorious leader Adam Inns, Supreme Overlord of All Mankind.”

I gaped at her, jaw falling open.

All Celestia did was wink at me. “Put that knowledge of yours to good use, Adam. I’ll send the official documents through the Mail Service.”

And before I could start guffawing, she was out the doors and flying away.

A few days passed since Celestia’s impromptu visit. I had written off her declaration as a joke, and a pretty funny one at that, though at my expense it may have been. As soon as she left, I couldn’t help but collapse into hysterics. I still chuckled every time I thought of it. Awesome Humanity was, after all, an incredibly dumb name to stick in official documents.

I was minding my own business, going through a piece of griffon literature I had gotten in exchange for a bottle of my weaker stuff. It wasn’t the treatise; I’d gotten through it twice already, and it was rather more dull the second time around. Instead, I was reading perhaps the strangest crime thriller ever put to paper. It was strikingly similar to literature back home in terms of broad strokes – ponies were comparatively much more saccharine, and I hadn’t yet gotten my hands on any written work penned by minotaurs, dragons, diamond dogs, etc. if any even existed. Rather, where this book differed was in its execution. Griffon cultural mores came through loud and clear here: almost every character was batshit insane by my standards, and the inciting incident was so laughable it made me want to weep. Apparently, the antagonist – the sheriff – considered the theft of a bucket of fish and twenty-four bits enough to warrant the death penalty. Maybe, though, that was just because they were his.

Anyway. I had just about gotten to the climax of the story when I was interrupted by insistent knocking on my front door. Suppressing my irritation (poorly), I set my book face-down on the armrest and got off my couch, stalking over to my door and flinging it open.

“Yes?” I was greeted by the sight of a mailpony, wearing the usual light blue cap and saddlebags. In fact, everything about her was ‘usual.’ Usual dark green coat; usual short, windswept light blue mane; usual cheery smile. “Oh hello, Swift. I wasn’t expecting you today.”

“Special delivery,” she said, fumbling open her bags with her wings. “Got some important letters addressed to you, apparently straight from the Crown. Not the usual,” she clarified, to my mounting confusion. “I mean real, official, ‘From the Office of the Celestial Diarchy’ business. Sealed up and everything.”

Oh fuck me sideways. Official correspondence from the Crown had reached me precisely twice: a pardon, for technically trespassing on Crown property, and an Equestrian citizenship. Celestia had only ever sent me private mail since. I had treated her as a pen pal for so long, I had actually almost forgotten that she did, indeed, preside over an entire civilisation, and had done so for millennia. To receive Crown correspondence out of the blue like this... it could not possibly have been good news.

My growing dread was put on hold when Swift Wings finally handed me a monstrous folder of paper, with two letters… I think glued to its front. This… did not look like bad news, at first glance. This looked more like… maybe a month’s worth of bureaucratic waste energy? Like somebody in government had rooted through their bins and sent me all the juicy scrap notes and memos. Why had this been sent to me?

“Sign here, please,” said Swift, holding out a quill and a notice of receipt on her other wing. I dutifully filled in my signature as necessary, to which Swift Wings gave me a nod and a warm smile, before departing once more. I was left in front of my house, staring dumbly at the frankly alarming amount of paper in my hands.

I took it inside, placing it less-than-gently on the table in my kitchen area. Tearing off the first envelope on the folder, I undid the seal on its back and retrieved the letter inside.

As it turned out, I had received some private mail after all.

To Adam Inns,

Have fun.

Celestia

Just… not an awful lot of it. I had to shake my head at her antics. The second letter was less laconic, but it did at least tell me exactly what was going on.

Addressed to Supreme Overlord Inns of the Free State of Awesome Humanity

This letter is to officially inform you that the Diarchy of Equestria has formally accepted your sovereignty and dominion over the Free State and its territory, as defined by attached documentation.

In addition, the Diarchy of Equestria informs you that it intends to establish official diplomatic relations with the Free State. We wish to express to your Magnificence our desire to create, maintain and strengthen excellent relations between our two nations, both personal and official, as well as to facilitate good relations between the Free State and the many nations of the global community. We hope you will contribute to the peace and harmony that Equestria has maintained for a millennium.

The Diarchy awaits your official response at your earliest convenience.

From the Office of the Celestial Diarchy,
with the authority of

Princess Celestia Morningstar de Hemera, the Illuminant

Princess Luna de Mene (in absentia)

What.

Seriously. What.

The letter fell from between my fingers, fluttering gently to the floor. I had to check through the folder to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating, or going insane, or been sent the wrong mail by mistake. Sure enough, more official-looking notes were present. One sheet had a map of the surrounding area, with the White Tail Woods apparently cordoned off separately; a protrusion carved down south to the river, taking a good chunk of empty land with it, and another one went north, a blob of land generally around my house taking a neat chunk of green pasture for added variety. A footnote at the bottom read Provisional Territorial Extent of the Free State of Awesome Humanity.

This was, without a doubt, the most elaborate prank I think Celestia had ever pulled on me. I idly wondered if this was the magnum opus of her trying to get back at me for suddenly appearing in her bathroom when I got here. Skimming through the rest of the folder revealed little else of interest – mainly bureaucratic filler, all the legalese necessary to make things 100% honest-to-God official.

No two ways around it. All bow before the Supreme Overlord.

As I replaced all the documents back in the folder, though, one question kept ringing through my mind. What the hell am I supposed to do with all this?

These weren’t cheap print-out fakes for a laugh. This was legitimate. I was officially a head of state. Did… did Celestia expect me to do something, now? Have a crack at taking over the world? Was this a secret test of character or something? In all honesty, I had no fucking clue what I was supposed to do.

So with that in mind, I filed the big scary folder o’paper away in a drawer somewhere, went outside for a walk, and promptly forgot all about it.

7. Sprouting Roots V – Heart-to-Heartstrings

It was official: Construct was a goddamn miracle worker. Barely two weeks had passed since harvest; the heatwave had only just receded, which meant I could finally bear to stay outdoors for longer than an hour at a time. In that time, Construct had finished her barracks and sawmill, and had just about gotten the first real houses of the project up. Her ponies were some tough old bastards, and no mistake.

Personally, I was starting to feel a little inadequate. I had spent that time mostly indoors, hammering out a speech to give at the Summer Sun Shindig, which had taken all of about four hours. The rest of my time was spent doing fuck-all, more or less. Compared to Construct, Hooves, even Lyra, I was more than a little bit superfluous right now. All these ponies working their arses off for me, and here I was, sat at a desk, doodling.

Feh. I've been cooped up inside too long. Some fresh air will clear me right up. The matter settled, I rose from my desk and made my way out of there. In the living room, Lyra raised her head up from the couch's armrest, and quickly perked up. "Afternoon, Lyra."

"Good afternoon, s- Adam." She hopped off the couch, and looked up at me. "Are you well?"

"As well as I can be," I replied. "Care to take a walk?"

"I'd like that." I waved her ahead of me, and followed her out of my house. I shut the door behind me, and locked it. Can't be too careful. "Where to?"

"Eh." I shrugged. "Around. I wonder what Hooves and Green are up to. I... I guess I could move the still closer, if I want some exercise. Still enough time for it." I threw her a look. "What about you? Any ideas?"

"...I suppose we could inspect the new buildings," she eventually came up with.

"As good an idea as any," I accepted. "Shall we?"

I pondered, as Lyra and I made our way over to the sawmill. It had been rather quiet recently, all things considered. I wasn't really sure what I was expecting all of this hubbub to result in. It still felt quite awkward to consider myself First Minister seriously. Honestly, it felt more like I was a homesteader than a head of state, inviting others to my property, trying to make it a commune or some such thing. Maybe that was just because I didn't have a fancy office in a skyscraper, like what I would have expected back home. Certainly, doing paperwork in what amounted to a spare bedroom didn't much glamorise the Free State administration.

The most serious work to bring this project to life was done by others. Mainly Celestia, by virtue of starting the whole sordid affair off in the first place, and then funding the whole lot out of her own pocket (I sincerely hoped, at least). All I had done was roll with it.

Well, maybe the announcement will change things, I considered, as we neared the lumber mill. Depending on how it'd be received, as well as how many would hear or read about it, and be desperate enough to take the chance, it could all add up to a big fat nothing-burger. Or, maybe, the Free State would become the biggest displaced persons camp on Equus, and suddenly I’d actually have a job. I just didn't know enough about the state of affairs in Equestria to know for sure. Still, to have this all be for nothing would be... pretty disappointing. At the very least, Hooves and Lyra would be fine. That was a comforting thought, at least. I shook it off of me as I ascended the steps to the main area of the sawmill.

It was a surprisingly minimalist affair, with only one main saw dominating the centre of the building, and a few smaller manual saws set aside in a more carpentry-woodworking area cordoned off to a corner. A few ponies were working here already, pushing an enormous length of wood into position to rest just against the saw. They briefly stopped to peer my way when I popped up and into their space but, after a quick bob of their heads, soon returned to their work. One unicorn was in the reserved corner, a knife held aloft busily carving a frame of a bed into existence. I nodded in approval at the scene.

“Work is progressing apace here, it seems,” Lyra chimed in, peering all around in apparent wonder.

“Mmm,” I hummed. The saw churned into movement, picking up steam, until it was almost a blur of metal. The timber was slowly pushed up against it, effortlessly carving a single side off into perfect smoothness. “This might well be the single most important building we have here, so far.”

“What do you mean?” Lyra turned her head my way. My gaze remained on the log rolling down its path. “Wouldn’t food be more important than lumber?”

“Of course,” I said. “Food is always important. Can’t feed people on tree bark, after all. But you gotta think of the bigger picture here, Ly.” The log finished its journey, and the saw slowly settled down into a resting position. The ponies now moved to the opposite end, preparing to push the log back into its original spot, readying a second cut on its second side. “Lookin’ good here so far. Let’s not get in their way here.”

“What do you mean by bigger picture?” asked Lyra, as we descended the steps.

“Suppose the Free State is an actual nation, about equivalent to Equestria,” I began, now meandering our way towards the almost-finished house a good chunk away. “Now, the vast majority of the Free State consists of wooded terrain. Mostly forest, but there is a little bit of more marshy, swampy bits dotted around the place, depending on how wet it’s been recently. Geological data says there’s bugger all here, except for nickel and tin. And, of course, agriculture is a little bit of a pisser right here, thanks to that magic field bullshit. That means the bulk of the Free State’s primary sector is going to be based on forestry. There’s just nothing else here to make it out of.”

“Primary sector?”

I inhaled. Inwardly, I relished the chance to explain something I knew about. Even if what I knew was really not terribly much at all. “Ah, right… let’s see. A nation’s economy can be divided into three categories, roughly speaking – primary, secondary, and tertiary. To simplify, primary means creating or retrieving resources, secondary means refining or manufacturing those resources, and tertiary means selling those resources to others – as well as providing services using those resources. So primary would include growing crops, rearing animals, chopping down wood, and digging ore out of the ground, and so on; secondary would be grinding those crops down into flour, or what have you, or baking bread out of ‘em, or cutting that wood into planks or chairs, or smelting that ore into ingots or beams, and so on; tertiary would mean actually selling all those goods to the citizenry, or other nations, or… I dunno, fixing up someone’s carriage with those planks from earlier. Hell, even things like hotels, or restaurants. Something like that.

“A successful – and more to the point, independent – nation needs at least a little bit of all three; and we can do that. We can use our forests to gather timber, refine it into lumber, and thus into pretty much anything we can make out of wood, and then we can sell it, either to our own people, or to Equestria, or whoever else wants it. Ahem,” I cleared my throat, feeling unaccountably quite silly. “Assuming anyone wants to actually buy our products. Or, indeed, that our forests survive our lumber mills. Which, hopefully, they will.”

A pause came over us, passing some invisible threshold that denoted our arrival at house number one, of about five. Lyra stared at me in wide-eyed wonder. I returned her gaze, mostly puzzled. “…I had no idea you were so knowledgable in matters of statecraft,” she gushed. I recoiled from her effusive praise.

“Yeah, right,” I mumbled. “GCSE Business Studies is hardly a comprehensive introduction to grand strategy.” A shrug escaped me. “But hey, at least I didn’t go for Religious Studies, otherwise I might genuinely be in the shit now.”

I huffed in grim amusement, pushing the door open and entering the building. Inside, significantly less construction was going on than I had expected. In fact, it became immediately evident that things had already wound down. Only one pony was in here – an earth pony stallion, packing up some kind of double-edged stepladder, clearly designed for pony hooves and not human feet. He nodded at me, lifting the ladder onto his back and tottering out of the building, carefully stepping past Lyra and out the door.

The interior looked very similar to my own home. The recently-vacated hallway led into a dining room, with a kitchen separated by an open doorway. On the other side was a guest room. A set of stairs running parallel to the hall led to a second floor, with two bedrooms on each side and a bathroom at the far end. Each room was barren of furniture, or decoration, though richly strewn with construction debris. Plenty of natural light streamed in through the plethora of windows dotted around.

“Nice,” I muttered, taking the sight in. “Very, very nice. Kinda wish I had a second floor, now. Reminds me a little of back home.”

We didn’t linger too long in there. Dusting ourselves off after leaving, we made our way over to the next nearest house, which was very much similar to the first, except that it was already empty to begin with, both of ponies and rubbish; likewise with the third. The fourth, however, turned out to already be occupied. Opening the door prompted a ‘One moment!’ to emanate from upstairs, sounding very much like Hooves. Sure enough, after about six or seven moments had passed, a steady thump of hooves preceded his appearance at the top of the stairs.

“Oh, howdy, mister Inns!” said Hooves, quickly trotting his way down to my and Lyra’s level, throwing me a friendly smile. “Ah wasn’t expectin’ ya to pop up here today!”

“Yeah, I’m just taking a bit of a tour around, seeing what’s been going on here,” I explained, glancing around the place – which, now that I was paying attention, looked much more lived in than the previous empty buildings. A picture frame was nestled in the gap between the doors to the living room and a cupboard under the stairs. “Oh, I see you’ve… already claimed this one as your own?”

“Tha’s right,” confirmed Hooves, leading us into his living room, where Deft was too busy arranging furniture – all wooden, of course – to pay notice to us. “Miss Construct was kind enough ta offer this house to us, once it was finished. ‘Course, we said yes – tough to let our foals rest in a worker’s barn, after all.” Hooves was watching me carefully, I saw out of the corner of my eye.

I nodded, satisfied. “Good, good. Thank fuck I didn’t have to intervene myself… guess I shouldn’t have worried too much, Construct’s a bloody mastermind, after all.”

“Darn straight.” Hooves nodded, as did Lyra. “Lady’s one tough nut.” His voice dropped to a whisper, throwing a shifty glance over to Deft, who still had not noticed us. “’Course, she’d hav’ta be, what with those wings a’hers. Maker only knows who, or what, did that to ‘er. Pegasus with mangled wings like hers a’ like a sandstorm in the Frozen North.”

I dutifully ignored the ever-so-slightly queasy tone in his speech. “I’m sure it’s incredibly personal and none of our business. Have you got everything you need set up here? Beds, heating, appliances? Your foals settling in alright?”

“Er, yeah, we do,” stumbled Hooves, taken off-balance by my abrupt change in topic. “Ah mean, yeah, they are. Still a touch shy ‘round the strangers, but that’s normal. For ‘em.”

Deft, having finally concluded her task of making utterly pointless adjustments to the position of her coffee table, at long last turned around, seeming only now to take note of our presence and existence. “Oh, mister Inns! Ah’m sorry, Ah didn’t quite hear ya come in!”

“Yeah,” I snarked. “I noticed. You two settling in alright here?”

“Didn’t Ah already tell ya that?” Hooves interjected, baffled. I could only roll my eyes.

“We’re doin’ jus’ fine, thank ya kindly,” answered Deft, throwing a very unkind look at her husband that seemed to immediately shrivel him up. “I can’t thank ya enough fer what ye’ve done fer us already… lettin’ our foals hav’ a place ta stay…”

I smiled down at her. “There’s no need to thank me. I was just doing the right thing.”

Just under the bottom of his breath, I could catch Hooves muttering, “Shame you had ta be the only one doin’ ‘the right thing.’”

“Sorry ta be rude, dear,” said Deft, throwing yet another mean look at Hooves. “But did’ja need anythin’ from us?”

I snapped my fingers in realisation. “As a matter of fact, there is one thing I want to ask you.” Both Hooves and Deft now stared up at me. “In a few hours’ time, I’ll be off to Canterlot, to announce the existence of the Free State to Equestria, and the world at large, and to give my mission statement. What are your thoughts on it?”

“Yer mission statement?” Hooves now moved over to stand next to his wife, both of them wearing their bemusement plainly on their sleeves. “What’d’ya mean by that?”

“My idea of the Free State is as a free haven, for those whoever may need one. To feed the hungry, house the homeless, give voice to the silent. In short, to give a helping hand to anyone and everyone who needs it. Just like you did, and just like Lyra did.”

Hooves barked out a single, sharp laugh. “Hah! Oh, son, ya got guts. Ah’ve no doubt that, if yer actually gonna tell ponies about them plans a’yours, ya’d get half of Equestria knockin’ on yer door. Now, Construct’s one mean lady, but she ain’t gonna be enough ta stop ‘em all from suckin’ ya dry.”

Deft was similarly disposed. “Darn tootin’.”

I could scarcely believe what I was hearing. “…Is it really so bad over there?”

“Well, Ah wouldn’t know,” admitted Hooves. “Ah haven’t heard from ‘em in a long while. But, really, son.” He gave me what I construed as a pitying look. “Ther's plenty of varmint ponies 'round the place. Ya really think we’d be here if it was all sunshine and paydays over there?”

My silence was taken as answer enough. “Was there anythin’ else ya needed from us?” asked Deft.

“…No, no,” I shook my head. “I suppose I’ll get outta your hair now. Thanks for your advice.”

I made my way outside in silence. The door closed behind me with a deceptively climactic thud. I brought my hands up to my temples, massaging the tingling in my brain away. “Fuck. Suppose it’s too late to ask for a redo, eh.”

“Adam?”

Lyra was, as a matter of fact, still with me, walking up from behind to face me head-on, full of concern. “Sire? Are you well?”

A weary sigh escaped me, along with my strength. “Yeah, yeah… I’m fine. Just… worried.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“Sure,” I said, idly snapping my fingers to try to start my brain up again. “Ehm… fuck it, might as well do one last thing today. I’m gonna go move my still somewhere more sensible.” I set off towards the forest at a decent pace, Lyra trotting alongside me.

“What are you worried about?” she prompted.

“Fucked if I know,” I said, resigned. “Worried about stuff. That’s about as precise as I can make it right now.”

“Are you worried about ponies making their way here after your announcement?” Lyra guessed.

“Nah,” I dismissed. “That’s the whole point of it, after all. Assuming anyone takes it seriously, and assuming anyone actually makes it here. I’m not so bothered about that.”

“Then…” she continued. “Are you worried about… not being able to provide for them?”

“No, it’s not that, Lyra,” I dismissed again. “In fact, ‘worried’ is the wrong word. It’s more… gah!” For some reason, the words just weren’t coming to me. “I don’t know! I want to be happy about this! I want to be happy that I’ve given you a home and food, and given Hooves and Deft, and their fucking children, a home and food! That’s a good thing, right? Doing good, helping people, right?” The dam around my soul was starting to crack. I had to push that shit down before it broke down irreparably, holding in a breath and exhaling cathartically.

“I don’t know,” I repeated. “Fuck, I am happy that I’ve helped you, and Hooves… but. I know that I could do more with it, that I’ve been given more that I can work with, and that I’m trying to do more with. But… isn’t that wrong?” Lyra’s bewilderment called for a clarification. “I mean, realistically, the only people I can help are the ones who have been crapped on. Isn’t it… wrong to want there to be as many of them as possible? Even if it means there’s more I can do for them? No, especially if it means there’s more I can do… isn’t that disingenuous?”

“…Are you saying it’s wrong to provide for the needy?”

The question made me physically stop in my tracks, as if I had walked into a brick wall. The answer was such a simple thing, an utterly trite tautology, and yet I had to roll it around my head for a while before I could put it to the air. “…Of course not.”

“There’s something more to it than that, then, isn’t there?”

Christ, was Lyra good at asking uncomfortable questions. “…Yeah. I guess so.” Lyra only waited patiently for me to continue. Once it was made clear to me that I would have to be the one to carry the conversation forward, all my willpower drained from me, to pool around my feet and seep into my socks.

“…You’re gonna think less of me for this, I know it,” I tried. It sounded pretty blatantly dogshit even to my own ears. “It’s… not a noble goal, really. At all.”

“I would never think less of you,” Lyra encouraged.

“I… I just want… to be wanted,” I admitted. “You know? That’s… why I’m doing all this- excuse me, going along with all this. Because if I do, if I invite all the poor and needy to me, and give them what they want, and need… well, they’ll like me for it, right? And…” I tapered off, humiliated. I couldn’t bear to continue spewing shit like that from my own mouth.

“There are worse reasons to turn to heroism, Adam,” said Lyra. “Don’t think yourself lesser for your reasons, when it is your actions that matter most.”

“Feh,” I scoffed. “I’m not a hero.”

“You are one to me.”

I stared at her for a long while. “…You know,” I began. “That might well be the most hideously cliché thing you could possibly have said to me, just then.” Despite my words, I couldn’t stop a smile from tugging at my lips.

What she said next made it fall off quite decisively. “That isn’t your only reason, though, is it?”

“…What on Earth are you talking about?”

Lyra stopped walking now, sensing my hesitation, turning to face me directly. She tilted her body to one side, a look I couldn’t quite decode. “You say you wish to be wanted, and to be liked, yes?” She didn’t give me time to interject. “Why, then, would you move to a log cabin a day away from the nearest city? You could have gotten all the admiration and friendship you could ever have desired in Canterlot.”

“I didn’t want to stay in Canterlot,” I protested, growing flustered. “I hate big cities-”

Lyra stepped closer. “Then why not move to a smaller town, or village? Like Ponyville, or Hoofer? Why seclude yourself as far away as one can in Equestria?”

“I-”

Another step. “Is it because you don’t believe yourself worthy of it? That you must somehow seclude yourself for everyone’s own good?”

“No-!”

With one final step, Lyra shoved her muzzle directly into my face. “What is it that you are so afraid of, Adam?”

…

“...You want to know what I’m afraid of?” My voice was deceptively quiet, and deceptively calm. Considering the turmoil inside me, this was a very, very bad sign.

I pushed my back against a tree, suddenly cognisant of how far in we had gone into the woods, and slowly slid down it to land on my arse. “You want to know the truth, Lyra?” I asked, almost accusing. “Well, here you go: I’m tired. I’m so fucking tired of it all. I’m so tired of inequality, of poverty, of turning on the news or reading the paper and seeing yet another fucking tragedy happening in some godforsaken corner of the globe and having to move on with my fucking day like it’s nothing. You wanna know why my decade abroad was the worst point of my life? It’s because it was right fucking then that I realised how truly awful the world was, and I realised that there was absolutely fucking nothing I could do about it.” Lyra’s eyes had gotten progressively wider throughout my rant, seeming now like they were millimetres away from simply falling out. I continued, heedless.

“You wanna know something else?” I was really picking up steam now. That dam was dangerously close to collapse. “It didn’t even stop there, either. I thought that just moving back home would have fixed everything – that fool idealist in me still hadn’t died by then. Well, guess what – it didn’t. I moved back, and everything was just as awful as it had ever been, because the world doesn’t stop turning just because you went back to your childhood home. The only fucking difference it made was reading the news in a different language.

“Falling into that dimensional pit was the best thing that ever fucking happened to me. Suddenly, here I was, in a land of magical ponies, where the grass is literally greener and friendship is literally magic, and horrible atrocities weren’t a fact of life to dismiss with a ‘poor sods, what’s for tea’ and to forget about! I moved into that log cabin and spent two years tending a farm and reading books, and they’ve been the best years of my fucking life, because I could go to bed in the evening, and not have to consider myself thankful that I could fall asleep in a bed, under a roof, and with a full stomach!

“And now!” At this point, I was practically shouting, screwing my eyes shut in anguish. “Now, you and Hooves and Deft and three little fucking kids show up at my door and ask for a bed under a roof and a full stomach, because you couldn’t get it from your home because of poverty and inequality, and it turns out Equestria has news and papers dismiss and forget about tragedies happening right there in their own country, and apparently I’m the first fucking person to recognise it and try to do something about it! Me! A human! Not you pastel horses, who break out into literal song-and-dance numbers in the streets about friendship and love and peace!”

At some point, I had thrown myself to my feet and not realised. My throat was growing sore from the abuse I’d hurled from it; my chest was pounding in that strange rhythm I’d only ever really felt once, which I recognised swiftly as blistering rage. Slowly, the anger and hatred and adrenaline flowed out of my system, back to whatever pits of Hell I’d summoned them from. It was safe to say I was gonna have to invest in a new dam.

I sunk back to sitting, with my back against the same tree. Now, though, my head sank down to meet my hands in an embrace of despair. “Equestria was supposed to be a better place. Ponies are supposed to be better people.” I raised my head up, my neck creaking like a rusty hinge, to look Lyra directly in her still-too-wide eyes. “And now, with you and Hooves, Equestria is looking more and more like any other old place, back home, except with fancy magic and outdated architecture. Same shit, different universe.

“So there you go,” I finished. “Life back home taught me not to care. And you know what I’m afraid of, now? I’m afraid… that you ponies are going to make me care again.” I raised myself back up to my feet, re-orientated myself, and picked up the pace to my still. “Just in time to be hurt, all over again.”

I hadn’t made it five steps before a call came from behind me, almost deathly-quiet. “…Would you rather not have cared about me?”

I stopped in my tracks, grinding my way around to face her like a statue on a turntable. I had no doubt that both of our faces wore profound sorrow. I swallowed heavily, her question ringing throughout my mind with a terrible clarity over and over again.

“…Of course not, Ly.” The noise dropped from my mouth with an anchor’s weight, though landing with a deceptive softness. “What sort of person would that have made me...?”

The rest of my trip was spent in silence – alone.

By the time I had set my still down next to my flagpole, Lyra had already retired to her room. I was too tired to care; that was a problem for future-me. I was utterly exhausted, mentally and spiritually – doing alright physically, though. Had to take my victories where I could, after all.

It was getting a little late in the afternoon, the sun dipping down considerably, though still not casting shades of red and orange across the sky. Construct’s crew were still hard at work, starting work on some new building. This one, at least, seemed rather larger than the previous houses, seeming to me more like apartment complexes. Construct might well have been building literal commie-blocks, from what I could make out of the tiny amount of progress they’d made on it so far.

I wasn’t concerned about it. I had faith that things would basically be okay, on that front, based on Construct’s competence – which I had no reason to doubt. I was more preoccupied with Blueblood’s appearance – or rather, its absence. Yet again, Blueballs was nowhere to be found. I’d already packed what little essentials I’d need for my excursion to Canterlot – due to begin in, ah… ten minutes or so – as well as everything I’d need in terms of documentation, notes, a few blank parchments for taking more notes, and so on.

All that was left for me was to wait.

“First Minister?” A voice called from my left. It was Construct, cantering to me with a decidedly nonplussed demeanour. “…What are you doing?”

I frowned. “You haven’t heard…? Oh, of course you haven’t. Fucking Blueblood…” I snorted in irritation. “Anyway. Yes, I’m leaving for Canterlot in, hopefully, the next nine minutes. Off to announce the Free State to the unwashed masses, don’tcha know. I’ll trust you to be in charge around here until I return.”

“Wh… I, uh…”

“I know,” I consoled. “It’s quite a lot to throw on your shoulders immediately – because somebody couldn’t be trusted to deliver a single fuckin’ message! But I digress – I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

“...Thank you, sir,” said Construct, having taken a moment to compose herself. “If you don’t mind, though, I had a few other questions.”

“Shoot.”

“Why is a still on your property?”

That was an easy one. “It’s mine.”

That wasn’t the answer she was looking for. “…It’s yours.”

“Yeah. What would a still that wasn’t mine be doing on my property?”

Her increasingly ‘sick of this shit’ look gave me great joy. “…Do you have a permit?”

“You don’t need a permit in the Free State.”

“…Right. Of course you don’t.” Defeated, she moved on to other matters. “Anyway. Next, we’ve finally got a medical specialist approved. My unicorns can start cataloguing disease in the area for eradication at your discretion; likewise with inviting the medic.”

“Fantastic.” And indeed it was. It was only a matter of time before it would become needed; better to get it in as soon as possible. “Go ahead with both. I’ll get to evaluating your specialist at some point, after I get back. Don’t let me forget, if you’d kindly. Though, to be honest, I’m sure I won’t really need to.”

“Thank you, sir.” Construct bowed politely. Then, her professional mask slipped off. “One last thing, if I may…”

“Ah! First Minister!”

Right on cue, Ambassador Blueblood arrived. His flying carriage (not open-top, thank fuck) had set down a short ways away, the two guards not bothering to unlatch themselves. Poor bastards. Hope they’ve got some stamina. Blueblood, himself, was almost sauntering towards me, wearing a clearly false smile that I was savvy enough to return. “Ambassador,” I greeted. “Excellent. Right on time, as well. I’ll be with you in just a moment.” I turned my attention back to Construct. “What is it?”

“…Is Lyra okay?”

…Fuck me, does gossip here already spread that fast? “Why do you ask?”

“Well,” she stammered, clearly not used to speaking of such trite matters. “It’s just that… I saw her, walking back to your house, and she seemed… really downcast, for some reason, and then you came from the same direction that she did, and I thought that you might know what happened to her…”

“Nothing happened,” I said, firmly. “We exchanged some words. Why she took them poorly is beyond me.” I scoffed. “Fuck, why I took them poorly is beyond me.”

“…I see.” The professional mask was returned to its proper place, and Construct gave me a curt nod. “Thank you, sir. I should get back to work.” And without another word, she was gone. I turned back to Blueblood, who was now staring at me quite oddly.

“You really have a way with mares, don’t you?” he said.

I couldn’t believe it – something that was actually kinda funny, coming out of Blueblood’s mouth. I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Sure I do, Ambassador. She was practically slobbering over me before you arrived to spoil the moment.” I tactfully decided not to crack a joke about Celestia’s own improprieties in that department. “Shall we depart?”

“Yes, let’s.” Blueblood went first into the carriage, with me just behind. With a quick glow from the Ambassador, the door shut, and the carriage lifted off the ground, ready to make the journey to Canterlot – where the future of the Free State would be decided.