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?