Camp Legume,

Western Equestria,

And Western Arborlands,

Western Equestria,

And Canterlot Castle,

Canterlot

The batpony stallion touched down smartly in the middle of Camp Legume’s parade grounds. Being that it was midday, the new arrival was enough of an oddity that he drew a few lingering gazes from passing onlookers. For the tiniest fraction of a second, the stallion felt himself tense upon being the focus of so much interest. Then an amused smile creased his lips, which he quickly schooled into a self-assured smirk befitting of the silver crescent moon pinned to the collar of his uniform. Night Guards in the service to Princess Luna were well known to believe―and rightly so, according to them―that they were superior to all others in the uniformed services, and that their shit did indeed smell of lilies and roses.

The iron gray stallion spent a brief moment straightening up his silver-trimmed jet black uniform before glancing around for the camp’s headquarters building. Like most of Equestria’s further-flung military encampments intended to house the region’s local Cavalry garrisons, the camp’s many buildings were all rather plain looking and uniform in appearance. Indeed, the whole camp was horrendously uninspired in its appearance, and only barely had an air of ‘permanence’ to it.

The installation was laid out on a veritable grid, surrounding an open field where morning exercises or various ceremonies were held. All around were white wood-slatted buildings with slate roofs of slightly varying sizes. The perimeter was a simple palisade sparsely dotted with lookout towers. It all looked very ‘military’, to be sure, but little of it was particularly imposing.

Not like the grander literal castles which played host to the garrisons sitting in the heart of Equestria. Installations such as Fort Bambuck, at whose heart was still the ancient fortress for which it was named, with its towering keep and high curtain walls topped by parapets. One could look at such a construct and immediately just feel safer and more protected for its presence.

In contrast, Camp Legune struck the stallion as just being some sort of eerily-uniform gated neighborhood.

He snorted and started heading for the installation’s headquarters building―which was only truly identifiable by the small wooden placard with white lettering which said: ‘Headquarters’ on it. Once inside, the stallion found himself greeted by a pair of barding-clad earth ponies, who each glanced up with bored expressions on their muzzles. Both ponies’ faces wore mirrored looks of confusion at first, as though trying to figure out what it was that had come into the building. Clearly both of the ponies on watch that afternoon had become used to seeing only individuals wearing typical Cavalry attire, and their brains were having trouble accounting for the unanticipated visitor’s uniform, or how to react to it.

Finally some deep-seating training took over and, as if on instinct, both stallions shot up a little straighter on their stools. “Sir!” One of them greeted with a crisp bark.

“I need to speak with the commander of this installation,” the batpony informed the pair curtly. “Who are they and where can I find them?”

“Um, Brigadier General Rico―er, um, Reconnoiter, is in charge,” the other earth pony informed the arrival, clearing their throat. “Her office is upstairs to the right, second door on the right,” as they spoke, they gestured with their hoof towards a staircase sitting off to the side of the reception area. The batpony nodded and started towards it, pausing only when he heard the same pony hesitantly clear their throat and add, “Um, sir? If you’d sign in on the log, please?” The younger stallion nudged an open ledger sitting on their desk.

The Night Guard glanced down at the ledger briefly before shaking his head. “That won’t be necessary,” he replied simply and turned towards the stairs once more.

However, again the stallion spoke up. “Sir! All visitors are required to sign in on the…log…” Though his words had started out firm enough, the younger pony lost a great deal of his boldness when he found himself the target of a withering glare from the Night Guard. “...General’s orders,” he added meekly at the end.

The batpony maintained his glower as he spoke. “Do you see this pin, private?” He jabbed a leathery wingtip at the crescent moon on his collar, but didn’t wait for a response to his rhetorical question. “That means that I am one of Her Majesty's Night Guards, answerable exclusively to Princess Luna Herself. Often performing duties―to include this one―for which there can exist no official record.

“So inform your general, that if she takes issue with that, then she is free to voice her displeasure to the princess directly, in Canterlot.” The batpony held the pair of young soldiers with his glare until he was certain that both were sufficiently cowed, and then headed for the stairway once more. This time there were no objections, just two stallions exchanging nervous looks and shrugging, unsure of what to do in this situation, and unwilling to act in any way which might see them punished for violating the will of one of the princesses.

The batpony smirked as he ascended.

He maintained his air of superiority―and professional invulnerability―as he strode boldly in the antechamber of the general’s office, startling the captain sitting behind the secretarial desk sitting off to the side. Like the pair of earth ponies downstairs, the pegasus officer here was also more than a little surprised to see the batpony’s uniform. However, unlike the greener and more timid enlisted ponies, he found his bearing more quickly. “Begging your pardon, guardian, but is the general expecting you?”

The tone was cordial enough, but the captain’s gaze and expression were far cooler. The pegasus even went through the motions of glancing at what was clearly the general’s schedule, where the batpony’s name was surely not going to appear and they both knew it. The implication of the captain’s greeting was clear: “Who are you, and why are you strutting around like you own the place?” Though propriety and professional courtesy would never permit words to that effect to actually be said aloud.

“I have urgent orders from Their Majesties Princess Luna and Princess Celestia,” the batpony began, noting the brief crease of the pegasus’ eyes upon hearing the reverse of the usual order that the nation’s diarchs were listed in. No comment on the matter was made though. After all, it was not anything particularly surprising to hear from a member of the Night Guard. “They must be delivered to Brigadier General Reconnoiter immediately.”

The pegasus captain’s brows raised in mild surprise. He held out a wing. “Very well, I shall accept those order’s on the general’s behalf and―”

“My orders are to deliver them personally,” the Night Guard stressed, holding the captain’s gaze.

“...I see. If you’ll pardon me for a moment, guardian?” The captain slipped from their desk and crossed over to the other side of the room and the door which led to the general’s office proper. They issued a brief knock and then slipped inside, careful to ensure the new arrival did not try to brush through the door past them now that it was open. A few seconds later, he emerged and stepped aside, holding the door open. “The general will see you.”

The leather-winged stallion nodded and stepped into the general’s office. Seated at the far end, and peering at him with amethyst eyes which held a great deal of interest, was a well-weathered unicorn mare. It was difficult to tell if her coat had always been such a light shade of baby blue, or if age had lightened it from a once darker hue. Her smoky mane, braided into a tight and professional military bun behind her ears, was clearly showing signs of graying though. A crimson sash crossed the chest of her yellow-trimmed Celestia-white uniform, demoting her rank.

Like the rest of the camp, the unicorn mare’s office was a sparse and utilitarian affair. There were few furnishings aside from the necessities that were typically required of an office―a desk, a few simple chairs, some cabinets for files, the like. However, the batpony did spy a few idle personal touches on the desk itself that weren’t strictly ‘regulation’. The nameplate, for example, displayed the name: GENE‘RICO’FFICER followed by an arrow which was styled to point ‘over’ the placard to the unicorn sitting behind it. The general was also presently holding a steaming mug between her hooves with the name ‘Blue Balls’ scrawled upon it.

General Reconnoiter set the mug down. “My aide tells me you bring orders from the princesses, Guardian…?”

While the unicorn mare’s words trailed off in such a way as to make it clear that she was looking for a name to go along with the title, the stallion was not feeling inclined to give her one. Instead, he merely fished a rolled scroll tied with a length of blue ribbon out of his saddlebag and passed it to the senior officer. “The princesses direct you to follow their orders to the letter,” was all that he said.

The unicorn didn’t move for several long moments as she regarded both the uniformed batpony and the scroll held in his outstretched wing. Eventually though, she set her mug down and accepted the rolled parchment in her magic, deftly breaking the wax seal and unfurling it. Her narrowed eyes danced across the text of the floating parchment, only to draw up short, widening with clear surprise before the senior officer was able to subdue the most blatant signs of her shock. The unicorn glanced back at the batpony, her eyes darting only briefly to the crescent moon on his collar. “Is there any particular reason I’m not getting these orders through General Plowshare?”

“Is there any particular reason that matters?” The leather-winged stallion quipped back without hesitation. “An order from a superior officer is de facto already presumed to be an order from the princesses passed down through them. Naturally Their Majesties can skip the chain of command whenever they so desire.

“Do you have an issue with the orders that you’ve been given that you would like me to pass on to Their Majesties, brigadier general?” The stallion let the implied threat hang in the air between them.

“...No. Obviously I will carry out the will of the princesses to the best of my ability.” Though the frown on the unicorn's face suggested that she was not particularly thrilled about performing that duty at the moment. Exuberance with one’s duties was not a requirement in the Cavalry of course, merely obedience.

“As you always should,” the Night Guard nodded, flashing the older mare a wry smirk. “I’ll leave you to your preparations.” Without another word, nor any sort of salute, the batpony turned and left the office. He flicked a dismissive wing towards the captain as he passed them by as well. Both of the ponies at the desk by the front door pretended like they didn’t even see him. It was a reaction that caused the smile on his face to broaden.

Once more outside on the small fort’s parade grounds, the batpony―who only coincidentally looked exactly like a stallion in the Equestrian Intelligence Service named Nocturne―spread his wings and took flight.

Cravat decided that, when he eventually did go back to work in the hospital, he was going to look into the efficacy of using cloud-based hospital beds for all of his patients. As soft as a downy-filled mattress, light as a spider’s web, and offering a ride so smooth that it was like...well, floating on a cloud, he supposed. Neither of his patients were jostled in the slightest as their little white puffy ‘cots’ were pushed along by the pair of pegasi who’d been among those to return with Captain Corsair from Little Buck.

Thanks to a cloud-walking spell that Autumn Brisk had learned as a result of working closely with griffons for a number of years, the Gallopoli chief’s colt, Mesmet, had been able to ride upon a cloud cot as well. Thus far, he had found the whole experience quite novel. It was the first time that Cravat had seen the young horse smile since meeting him. The distraction from his recent tragedies wouldn’t last forever of course, but even seeing the colt expressing joy for even a few hours was something to be thankful for.

The medical pony had been even more thankful for the extra supplies that had been brought back. A fully equipped and staffed operating room would have been ideal for tending to the batpony mare, of course, but he’d gotten used to making do with whatever was at hoof while in the Cavalry. The quarrel was finally out and her wounds sutured. He'd cleaned out her bowels as much as he could, and he at least now had enough antibiotics to keep her from succumbing to sepsis; so that was good enough for the short term. The best thing for both of his patients right now was rest, and as much of it as they could get under the circumstances.

Fortunately those circumstances seemed to be a tad less dire at the moment. They would be regrouping with the rest of Lieutenant Whirlwind’s detachment the day after tomorrow, and from there would be making their way to Camp Legume to finally get word back to Canterlot about what had happened in Gallopoli.

In the meantime, Captain Corsair had allowed their group to abandon their previous breakneck pace and set a much slower and more sustainable one which contained plenty of breaks and time enough for him to address their group's less serious ailments. Such as Autumn Brisk’s sore hooves.

“You have sheared heels,” the corporal announced as he reached into his saddlebag and withdrew a rasp, whihc had been among the items in the aid bag he'd been brought from Little Buck.

“Is it serious?” The unicorn envoy asked with mild trepidation as she eyed the iron file warily.

“Not particularly,” Cravat assured her, “if it’s caught early enough.” He motioned for the mare to lie down on her stomach and propped one of her hind hooves up over his cannon. “You see this kind of thing all the time during boot camp. Happens when ponies don’t maintain a proper gait during marches.” He set the file to the bottom of the mare’s hoof and smirked. “I assume that royal envoys don’t march a lot?”

“Ha!” Autumn Brisk snorted as she folded her forelegs and rested her chin upon them, “I’ve probably walked further in the last two days than the rest of my life combined,” she grumbled irritably. “I was supposed to rarely have to leave my office…” Then she frowned, glancing back accusingly at the medic. “And what’s wrong with my gait?”

“Nothing from what I’ve seen,” a nearby orange unicorn stallion offered with a wry smirk, though apparently a bit louder than he’d intended to, given how surprised he seemed to be when both Cravat and Autumn Brisk turned to look at him. “Uh...I’m hungry. You two hungry? I’m going to get us some snacks. Be back later!” He quickly trotted off to be anywhere else for a while.

The medic sighed and shook his head. If nothing else, it was nice to see that Flashoever’s spirits were finally on the mend. “Sorry about him, if nopony’s apologized for it lately. I swear he’s a good soldier.”

“Hmm.” The unicorn turned back around. “I’m finding myself acquiring a preference for strong, silent types,” she muttered. The mare winced slightly, jerking her hoof nearly out of Cravat’s grip. “Ow!”

“Sorry,” the earth pony stallion said as he reset both the mare’s hoof and his rasp, handling the latter a bit more gingerly. “Your frogs are very soft.”

“Thank you?” the mare turned her head slightly, raising a hesitant eyebrow.

“Just an observation. I’m used to handling more calloused hooves than this.” His own lips curled slightly in a wry smirk. “That’s probably going to be the weirdest part of going back to the hospital: dealing with ponies that aren’t as...robust as the ones that tend to go into the Cavalry.”

“You used to work in a hospital?” The envoy managed not to sound too shocked at the revelation. “Were you some sort of nursing assistant or…?”

“I’d just finished my fellowship actually; in acute care surgery.”

“You’re a doctor?!” The mare was so shocked that she ceased to concern herself with her composure, outright gaping at the stallion.

“Technically I’ve been a ‘doctor’ since I finished medical school,” the corporal responded simply, shrugging off the surprise as he continued to focus on the work of filing down the mare’s uneven hoof. “But I’ve never practiced on my own," he admitted, "I’ve felt like more of a glorified nurse all my career.”

“What are you doing here?”

Corporal Cravat paused and looked at the mare with a deadpan expression, waving the rasp in her field of view. “Evening out your hoof.”

The envoy flustered, feeling her cheeks get a bit warmer with embarrassment. Autumn Brisk took a moment to regain some of her decorum and proceeded to rephrase her question. “I meant: why are you working as a medic in the Cavalry instead of as a doctor at a real hospital? Unless I’ve grossly misjudged Equestria’s military spending of late, my understanding is that surgeons earn significantly more bits than corporals.”

The dappled earth pony stallion rolled his eyes and resumed filing down the offending side of the mare’s hoof. “I’m fortunate enough not to have to worry about bits. My mother has plenty. She also sort of pushed me into doing medicine. Wants me to carry on ‘the family business’, after a fashion.”

“I see. I take it she’s a doctor too?”

“She is, technically, yes. Though I don’t believe she’s ever actually practiced any medicine herself.” The stallion paused to scrutinize his work as he began to finish up with her hoof, eyeing it carefully for symmetry, and applying light touches with the rasp where he noticed any further signs of unevenness. “She simply believes that the pony in charge of all of the other doctors should actually be a doctor themselves. Which, admittedly, is a notion that I do find merit in.”

Not that there was any actual guarantee that he would inherit his mother’s position in the government along with her titles, the stallion thought to himself. Though, as he understood it, she was already laying the political groundwork to make that happen. Always so forward-thinking, his dear mother; not leaving any part of her progeny’s future to chance…or choice.

Autumn Brisk cocked her head in confusion as she thought over the medic’s words. “What do you mean she’s ‘in charge of all the other doctors’? Nopony’s ‘in charge’ of―” Her eyes widened to nearly double their previous size as the realization struck her. “Wait, you don’t mean: she’s the Minister of Public Health?! Duchess Golden Hour is your mother?!” The latter was spoken at double her earlier volume and with an incredulity that one might reserve for if they’d just been told with a straight face that Discord was actually Celestia and Luna’s incestuous lovefoal.

“I am perfectly aware of who my mother is, thank you.” Cravat frowned, idly rubbing at his ear after it had been assaulted by the teal unicorn mare’s near screech.

Autumn Brisk had ceased to care about the state of her agape expression once again. She was honestly near apoplectic as her eyes darted between the dappled stallion and her leg that was being tending to like he was some sort of common train station hoof polisher. She attempted to scramble away so that she could correct what she was just realizing was a phenomenal breach of Courtly protocol and finally offer the stallion the courtesy due to a pony of his lofty station. The Minister of Public Health wasn’t exactly the most senior of the governmental agencies, to be sure; but there wasn’t always a direct correlation between a noble’s position in the government and their position in the Peerage.

The Duchy of Green Hills was one of the largest and oldest realms in all of Equestria. By extension, its custodian, Duchess Golden Hour, enjoyed a very senior seat on Equestira’s Peerage, as well as what was effectively a direct line to the princesses themselves. When the Duchess spoke, ponies, even some of the most powerful in the princedom, listened. And right now her only colt was filing Autumn Brisk’s hoof! Never mind what Earl Bitter Creek could do to her career if he was displeased with her job performance, this pony’s mother could arrange for her to be banished from Equestria entirely!

“My Lord, I beg for you to forgive my impropriet―umph!”

The mare nearly face-planted as the earth pony firmed up his hold on her hoof just as she tried to yank it free, keeping it firmly in place and throwing the mare off balance. “I swear to Celestia, if you so much as curtsy in my presence, I will take all your future temperatures rectally!” He seethed through gritted teeth at the envoy. Cravat leveled a piercing glare at the unicorn mare, cowing her into a series of meek nods of acknowledgement. Once he was satisfied that she wasn’t going to make any further spectacle of herself, he gave a firm nod and resumed working on her hoof, smoothing out the last little bits of unevenness.

He sighed. “Yes, my mother is Duchess Golden Hour. Yes, I really am her only foal,” the mare opened her mouth to speak, but the stallion shut her up again with a glare, “and no, I don’t feel like talking about why I’m a medic in the Frontier Corps. That is a personal matter. Is that understood, envoy?” Autumn Brisk’s mouth snapped shut with an audible sound at the stallion’s stressing of her dismally minor―and merely appointed―title. The implication was plain enough for her to see. The unicorn nodded wordlessly. “Good.” He looked at her hoof more closely, running his own along its edge to search for any further signs of uneven wear. “That should do it.

“Is anything else bothering you?”

The mare shook her head fervently, extracting her hind leg a little too abruptly from the medic’s care. “No, My L―er, um…no, corporal.” She uttered his military rank like she was being forced to eat dirt, clearly quite distressed at delivering what any other nobly-born pony would consider a great insult. “I’m fine now. Thank you very much.” It took a great deal of effort for the mare not to genuflect towards the medic before departing. The envoy wasn’t going to pretend that she understood why it was that a pony of breeding like the corporal was out playing soldier, but she also recognized that it wasn’t her place to know either. Instead she merely elected to very gingerly make her way to a respectful distance so as not to risk offending him.

For his part, Cravat let out an exasperated sigh and put his rasp away. Despite his insistence otherwise, the earth pony knew well enough that his future interactions with the envoy were going to be dramatically different moving forward. It was just one more example of why he preferred dealing with ‘common’ ponies over those who were ‘in the know’ where the nobility was concerned. To include both titled nobility and those who operated in their circles―like diplomatic envoys. With yoemares like Corsair or Flashover, he was treated just like ‘part of the herd’, once they saw that he wasn’t interested in throwing his pedigree around. It was quite a refreshing departure from the treatment he had received growing up. Especially while visiting places like Canterlot.

“Usually when nobles ‘slum it’, they just go to a dive bar on Canterlot’s Low Side for a night,” Cravat’s ear flicked at the sound of a mare’s pained rasp coming from nearby. He bolted to his hooves and spun around to find the batpony awake and looking at him from where she was laying on her cloud cot. “You must be a special kind of masochist to be in the Cavalry.”

The earth pony medic was at the mare’s side and rummaging through his saddlebags for a stethoscope. While it was usually a good sign for a patient to regain consciousness, Cravat wasn’t inclined to take it for granted that this represented a permanent change in her health for the better. Bowel injuries were always tricky things, and the mare could deteriorate just as quickly with seemingly little notice. However, as long as she was awake, he was going to take advantage to get some more insight into how she was feeling.

“Flash! I want to borrow your horn for a moment!” The dappled stallion barked over his shoulder even as he slipped on the stethoscope and placed it to the side of the batpony’s barrel. “Take some slow, deep breaths for me, please,” he instructed her.

The batpony nodded and proceeded to do as she was told, taking in a couple breaths as deep as she could manage, though these efforts did produce a noticeable wince as she did so. Cravat expected as much, given the amount of pain she was likely experiencing due to her gut wound. However, the effort did allow him to rule out any abnormal sounds from her lungs, so no signs of bacterial pneumonia yet; which was always a good sign. “Can you feel your legs and hooves? Wiggle them for me, if you can?” Again the mare nodded, and the earth pony saw all four of her hooves flexing in unison.

“Good. Any potions that you take regularly? Allergies? Significant medical history?”

“No allergies,” the mare answered back in a slightly hoarse tone. “Broken wing as a filly.” She flexed her right wing, which Cravat glanced at, but didn’t really expect to see anything worthwhile that would relate to her current situation. “And I take Sunbane pretty frequently.” This time the earth pony frowned, though he couldn’t say that he was wholly surprised by the admission. Statistically, most batponies who operated during daylight hours partook of elixirs containing sunbane extract. It helped to mitigate the worst of their racial photophobia. However, it did have the long-term side effect of promoting early-onset blindness in batponies; since it didn’t actually mitigate the effect of their eyes being exposed to direct sunlight. It just dulled the discomfort and kept their pupils from pinpricking.

However, chastising the mare for sacrificing her eyesight in the long-term in order to spend her youth operating more freely in the day could wait. Cravat was far more concerned with her present state. He heard hoofsteps trotting up behind him and turned to see the orange unicorn responding to his summons. “Alright, Flash, give me a low-intensity burst of light in each of her eyes, please. Right one first.” The earth pony turned to regard the mare closely, who was already grimacing in anticipation of what was coming. “Try to keep your eyes open, please.” The batpony nodded, but didn’t look any happier about what was to come.

“Relax, beautiful,” Flashover assured the mare with a broad smile. “I promise to be gentle.” He even winked at her.

The batpony was mid eye roll when the first beam of soft light hit her. She instantly took in a sharp breath, but managed to keep her eyes open while Cravat evaluated the dilation of her pupils. Once that was done with, the mare closed her eyes tightly and rubbed at them, muttering to herself about ‘fucking sunshiners’.

“Thanks, Flash. Go let the captain know she’s awake,” Cravat dismissed the unicorn and resumed the evaluation of his patient. “Do you feel any discomfort?”

“You mean other than where I was shot?” The batpony chortled, blinking away the last of the spots from her vision.

“Well, how badly does it hurt, on a scale of one-to-ten? One being after eating a questionable bean burrito and a ten being foaling?” This earned a chuckle from the mare, which devolved quickly into a groan as her wound became exacerbated by the laughter.

“Five when I don’t laugh, fifteen when I do!” She wheezed.

“Laughter contra-indicated; noted.” Once more the dappled stallion was looking through his bag, which was a lot more full thanks to the arrival of the supplies that Corsair had brought back from Little Buck. “Sorry I don’t have any of my really fun stuff anymore, but this should take some of the edge off.” He popped the stopper off of a small bottle and offered it to the batpony, who drank it gladly.

She’d just managed to finish the last of it before the group’s pegasus commander and her crystalline senior noncom arrived on the scene. Cravat noticed the mare tense up, almost like she wanted to be ready to make a run for it. Not that the earth pony would have expected his patient to make it far if she did bolt.

“Is she well enough to answer some questions, corporal?” The pegasus asked of her medic.

The earth pony looked between his commander and his patient briefly before issuing a nod. He looked at the batpony. “There’s not much more I can do to help your recovery along, and if you’re up to answering some questions it’d really help us out.”

The mare frowned. “I mean, I guess? I really don’t know what I could help the Cavalry with though―”

“Are you EIS?”

The mare’s frown deepened into a scowl as she looked over at the cobalt pegasus. “Listen, lady, I don’t appreciate your frankly racist assumption. Not every batpony is―”

“Spare me your obtuse bullshit and answer the question!” Corsair all but snarled, leaning in close to the batpony mare’s face. Cravat very nearly interposed himself between his commander and his patient, not quite prepared for the level of vitriol on display. Fortunately, the pegasus captain didn’t actually try to wring the truth out of the injured mare, though her flared wings suggested this was a near thing.

“I’ve got a town full of horses and a company of Their Majesties Finest burned to ash back there,” Corsair jabbed a wing vaguely in the direction that Gallopoli lay. “All cut down by creatures wearing our armor and slinging our arrows! Arrows like the one that got you. And if you think I’m going to buy that it’s just some fucking coincidence that you got got by the shit that got us not a day's trot away…then think again.

“If you know something, I damn well want to hear it!”

To either the credit of the mare’s personal convictions, or her skills of obfuscation, the look of absolute shock on the batpony’s face seemed completely genuine to Cravat. If she’d previously intended to hold to some sort of cover story, that inclination had vanished upon hearing the captain’s words. “...They attacked a town?” The surprise in her tone sounded as genuine as her expression looked.

“Slaughtered the Arabians nearly to a mare,” Corsair confirmed in a voice that was colder than ice. Then her gaze narrowed at the injured mare. “But they seemed especially interested in my ponies. They were counting our dead. Like they were after our company specifically.” The pegasus’ eyes darted briefly to the medic beside her. “...Or somepony in it.

“So whatever EIS knows, we need to know―we deserve to know.”

Even Cravat found himself taken aback now, having caught the implications of the captain’s words in conjunction with her brief look. He hadn’t known about any special interest being paid to their slain comrades. Was it possible that the pegasus had been mistaken, and that her own elevated stress and fatigue was causing her to see connections where there weren’t any? Because that idea that their company had been explicitly targeted to get at one or more of their members…that was a bit much to swallow. Especially if Corsair was entertaining the notion that he was a likely target for bandits like those.

Certainly the idea that some random group of raiders had been there looking for him―or anypony else for that matter―was utterly laughable. It would frankly have required for a patently absurd number of coincidences to have fallen neatly into place. If it was the case that himself or another member of the company was on somepony’s ‘hit list’, then that implied that there was somepony very important manipulating a lot of events to pull this off. An excessive number of events, in fact.

If that goal had truly been to kill or foalnap him as part of some plot against his mother, then whoever it was would have been far better served―and likely paid a far cheaper price―by trying to get at him while he was in Canterlot, or at any of the small towns their unit visited. For Celestia’s sake, an assassin posing as one of Little Buck’s residents seeking some medical care could have done the job on any given afternoon!

Sacking a foreign town to accomplish the deed would be lunacy!

At least the batpony appeared to be in agreement with Cravat on that much; though her puzzled expression suggested that she didn’t have any better explanations for the atrocity at the moment. “It couldn’t have been about any of you,” she insisted with a shake of her head, fully abandoning any pretense of ignorance now. “Not exclusively. They were likely accounting for witnesses,” she reasoned, her brow furrowed in thought even as her hoof went to the stitches along her gut. Something dark flashed behind her eyes, the corner of her lip curling upward to reveal a fang.

“I don’t know why they attacked the town,” she admitted, “but I do know that they had help from inside the Equestrian government to do it.” The next part she added with slightly more hesitation. “...To include the EIS.”

“So EIS was behind what happened?” Corsair and Shillelagh exchanged glances, but the batpony was already shaking her head.

“No! At least, not the whole of it. But there’s at least one operative who’s a part of whatever’s going on.” She patted the stitching on her belly. “He lured me into an ambush when I wouldn't let go of my investigation.” Another dower thought crossed the mare’s mind. “I can’t say for sure that there aren’t others though...” she was forced to admit, not sounding at all pleased by that thought.

“You can’t be serious?” The emerald senior noncom snorted. “The government and EIS are involved in what happened in Gallipoli?”

“Not the whole government, or the whole EIS!” The leather-winged mare countered emphatically, glaring at the crystal pony. “But those mercenaries―The Ivory Company―were hired by a noble―Earl Bitter Creek―two weeks ago to come to Equestria,” she explained. “Somepony also provided them with a bunch of Equestrian Cavalry surplus. I was tracking them before I was shot.”

Her hoof reached up and touched her bare neck, a sneer curling her lips. “I assume he scrubbed the surveillance on The Ivory Company,” she muttered to herself, then looked back at the others. “How long ago was that town attacked?”

“Night before last,” Corsair responded evenly.

“I’m going to assume that wasn’t long after I was shot. The operative had to be working with Bitter Creek.” Again the mare was deep in thought. “But what does the earl get out of this?”

“A cut of the spoils?” Shillelagh offered. “Maybe he’s paying mercs to raid foreign towns and splitting the loot with them in exchange for giving them the weapons they need to do it?”

While the batpony appeared to at least give the first sergeant’s theory some thought, Cravat had started shaking his head immediately. “Bitter Creek may not be the most prosperous fief in Equestria, but Fetlock’s no pauper; and the head of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs besides.” This drew raised eyebrows from Corsair and Shillelagh, to whom these revelations were clearly news. “And we saw Gallopoli; the value of everything in that town was probably less than what it cost to hire a mercenary group that size. Even if Bitter Creek had got everything there was in that town, he would have lost money on this venture.”

The batpony was nodding in agreement now. “He’s right. The Ivory Company doesn't come cheap. This wasn’t about money.” Which wasn’t to say that she seemed to have any alternate theories worth entertaining at the moment.

“Perfect,” Corsair spat. “Hundreds are dead, and nopony knows why.” The pegasus let out a frustrated sigh as one of her wings massaged her fatigued brow. It had been some time since she’d last had any decent sleep. That tiredness was doing neither her mood, nor her mind, any favors. “Whatever. The important thing now is reaching Legume and letting them know what happened. We’ll let the higher powers who are paid the big bits sort it all out.

“I just want to get my ponies somewhere safe. Speaking of,” she looked to Cravat now. “Doc, if you’re done checking on your patients, we should get packed up and moving out.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the dappled stallion nodded. “I’ll be ready to go in five.”

“Good.” The cobalt flier turned away and hopped into the air. “Dusty! Gusty!” The two pegasi that the company’s commander had brought with her from Lieutenant Whirlwind’s Little Buck detachment swooped into view and saluted with a chorus of ‘Ma’am!’s. “Picket our flanks. Keep an eye out for griffons, hippogriffs…” Her eyes darted briefly to the gray mare laying in the cloud cot before she added at a slightly quieter volume: “and batponies.”

The pair of armored pegasi exchanged looks, but raised no objections. They saluted and flew off in opposite directions, spreading out from the rest of the tiny group so that they could provide effective early warning. Once Corsair was satisfied that their perimeter would be secure as they traveled, she returned to the ground.

Shillelagh stepped up beside her. While the last bit of the captain’s order might have been too low a volume for Cravat’s EIS patient to hear, the crystal mare had been able to make it out. And she did feel like raising questions. “Batponies, ma’am?”

“I’m obviously willing to buy that this whole thing didn’t have the blessing of the princesses,” Corsair said with a roll of her eyes, “but we know there’s at least one bona fide minister in on this, and that he’s got at least one sympathizer in the EIS. I’m not betting our lives on this earl having just one agent in his saddlebag, Shelly.”

The crystal mare nodded in understanding. Then she grimaced. “...Maybe we shouldn’t limit it to just batponies then,” she suggested. When the captain looked at her senior noncom in confusion, the older mare added, “She said those mercs got hired two weeks ago?” The pegasus nodded. “And you said it looked like they had a list that they were referencing while counting our dead?” Another nod.

“Ma’am, remember when General Maniple asked for a by name and cutie mark roster of our hooves-on-ground while we were in Canterlot?” Corsair could see where the crystal mare was going with this now; and she didn't like it. Not one bit. “I bet that’d be the perfect roster for somepony to use to count the dead. Or somegriff.”

“...Fuck.”

“―And I’m afraid that concludes the message sent by His Excellency, Sultan Rahid-In Saheid Sad-Hal, Your Majesties,” Earl Alabaster Fetlock, Equestria’s Minister of Foreign Affairs, concluded soberly as his telekinesis lowered the oversized scroll that he had been reading from. He bowed his head before the pair of alicorns seated upon the raised dais, his features a perfect mask of sorrow and regret at having to relate such dour tidings to his beloved princesses.

The reigning sisters exchanged concerned looks of their own as they digested the sultan’s unexpectedly hostile message. Celestia extended one of her pristine white wings towards the floating parchment, and the earl quickly passed over the missive to the alicorn for her to read over herself. The unicorn was not concerned in the slightest that she might find some deficiency with it. After many years of handling correspondence with the Saddle Arabian ruler, Fetlock was intimately familiar with the horse’s writing style. Even the sultan himself would be hard pressed to deny it sounded exactly like something he would have written if presented with the scroll.

Except, of course, that the sultan had not written that particular message. The real scroll was still sealed away in the minister’s office. It was a far more calmly-worded, though no less appalled, affair officially asking for the extradition of the perpetrators of the attack on Gallopoli. A perfectly reasonable request, in the earl’s own opinion; and one he was sure that the princesses likely would have agreed to with little hesitation, if any at all. However, that was not what the alicorn sisters were reading now.

Instead, what they had been presented with amounted to a declaration. The message purported that the Saddle Arabians would be sending their armies across Equestria’s borders imminently, and that those armies were not to be interfered with in any way as they sought out the ponies responsible. A patently absurd request, obviously. It was tantamount to asking a nation to surrender its very sovereignty. To agree to the terms laid out in the ‘sultan’s’ message would be the diplomatic equivalent of Princesses Celestia and Luna supplicating themselves before the Saddle Arabian sultan. Even if the alicorns themselves were inclined to take such a measure in the interests of preserving the peace, the Equestrian public would never stand to see their beloved princesses demeaned so!

The opinion of Saddle Arabians among the ponies of Equestria would be forever tarnished, making whatever official relations the two government’s maintained on paper effectively meaningless.

From the stern scowl plainly evident on Princess Luna’s face, it was clear to the earl that at least the younger of the sisters was not at all inclined to acquiesce to what she was seeing on that scroll. Meanwhile, her elder sibling’s brow was furrowed more in confusion than in indignation. “Forgive me, Earl Bitter Creek,” Celestia began, “but I am finding it hard to believe that any member of our Cavalry could do what is described in this letter. While I would never suggest that Rahid-In is lying,” she stressed diplomatically, “is it possible that he has received…miscommunicated information, perhaps?”

Again the unicorn stallion schooled his features to appear appropriately forlorn for the news he was about to deliver. “Would that such was that case, Your Majesties. I naturally assumed the same when I read the message delivered by the Saddle Arabian ambassador, and so I reached out to the EIS to find the truth of the matter." Now the earl gestured to an older batpony mare dressed in a fine black suit jacket standing next to him. Em-Dash, the currently serving director of the Equestrian Intelligence Service nodded and produced a scroll of her own, extending it towards Princess Luna with one of her leathery wings.

"I sent in one of our investigative teams the moment we received word of the attack, Your Majesties," she informed the princesses in a husky tone which suggested she was either suffering from a perpetual seasonal cold or a lifetime spent suckling on a tobacco pipe. "Gallopoli had been burned to the ground. Equestrian arms consistent with what the Frontier Corps still has in its inventory was found among the ruins. None of the ponies from Bronco Company were found.

"As of this moment," the intelligence director's features creased into a grimace, "while we haven't found irrefutable proof that our ponies were responsible for the massacre, what we have found is consistent with the sultan's allegations.

"My agents will continue to investigate the matter, of course," she added with a brief bow of her head. "If we learn anything more, it will be passed to Your Majesties immediately."

Both princesses scrutinized the offered report. Alabaster Fetlock had little trouble keeping his expression neutral as the alicorns read over what Director Em-Dash had provided to them. Unlike what the minister had been providing them, this was not an adulteration of any kind, but a genuinely good faith assessment made by the EIS based on the information gathered by its agents. The earl had not brought Princess Luna's hoof-picked agency head in on his schemes, as the unicorn had no allusions that the batpony would not remain steadfastly faithful to her patron. So instead he relied on Hawkwood's company managing to at least competently stage the town to implicate Equestria before he'd left.

“I can’t understand what could have possessed them to do such a thing,” Celestia said, horrified by what she was reading. “How did this happen?” Whether she actually expected the director or the minister to have an answer to such a question or not, the alicorn did look between them.

As it happened, the good earl had a response to this very question prepared. Again he bowed low before his princesses. “It pains me to no end, Your Majesties, to admit that I, myself, may have played some small part in this,” Fetlock carried on quickly beneath the sudden sharp looks from the alicorns. “My office has been inundated with reports from our envoy in Gallopoli. It seems that the company’s commander, a Captain Vought Corsair, became overzealous in her duties, going far and above what had been asked of her. Ransacking carts, interrogating the populace, detaining honest traders as smugglers.” As he spoke, the unicorn produced the correspondence he’d received from Autumn Brisk and passed them to the princesses. Like the sultan's letter, these missives had also been...massaged; though only lightly so. The envoy had already been inclined to frame the captain’s actions in the most negative light she could. Alabaster had only needed to―slightly―embellish Corsair's reported actions.

“I beseeched General Maniple to relieve the mare, but he informed me that he had no available relief to send. It appeared that Her Majesty Princess Twilight Sparkle had recently flooded both his corps and my own office with requests for missions to be sent out to the zebras, griffons, and buffalo. All of our resources were stretched to the breaking point in our attempts to meet the challenges posed to us by the Princess of Friendship.” This much was at least true enough without needing to exaggerate things. As he had predicted, when Twilight Sparkle had learned about the foreign outreach aspect to the Frontier Corps’ function, the young alicorn had wasted no time in asking for every available company and envoy Maniple and the earl’s own ministry could provide.

Both of them had ensured that every spare hoof was gifted to her.

“I had hoped that the situation in Gallopoli wouldn’t deteriorate too much further before something could be done, but clearly I was wrong.” The earl prostrated himself humbly upon his belly before the princesses. “I can only beg The Crowns’ forgiveness for the failures of myself and my office, Your Majesties. Though I did all that was within my power to do, clearly that was not enough.” His horn began to glow and took hold of the medallion around his neck depicting a merged sun and moon, offering it to the pair of alicorns. He was by no means actually eager to metaphorically fall on his own sword over this matter, but it never hurt to give the appearance of being willing to do so when one sought to remove any possible doubt as to their fidelity...

“If it is your wish, I will relinquish my office immediately, so that you may fill it with a more worthy candidate.”

Now the earl held his breath. This was arguably the greatest risk that he was taking with his plan. If the princesses actually accepted his resignation, everything would come undone, as his replacement would doubtlessly not misrepresent the diplomatic traffic that would be flying between Equestria and Saddle Arabia over the next few weeks in the leadup to the all out war he was trying to arrange. However, risky though it might be, it was an act that would have been expected of a truly dutiful and loyal minister in Their Majesties government who believed in espousing the virtues of Harmony. After all, a tenet of Honesty was to be willing to admit to one's failings and be prepared to suffer the consequences.

Just as a tenet of Generosity was to always be willing to forgive the mistakes of others. And if his princesses were anything―

“That will not be necessary, Earl Bitter Creek,” Celestia finally said, her own golden magic gently pushing the offered medallion back towards the contrite unicorn. “Rise.”

―it was believers in Harmony.

Fetlock was quick to hide the smirk that had managed to find its way onto his muzzle before he picked himself off the floor, instead adopting an appropriately awed expression, as would be expected of a pony who had just been subjected to such magnanimous and wholly undeserved forgiveness from their princess. “Your Majesties’ mercy truly knows no bounds,” he offered with a deep bow of his head.

Princess Luna’s expression soured slightly. “Less ‘mercy’ and more ‘pragmatism’ this,” the Princess of the Night said with an aside glance at her elder sister. “Restructuring Our diplomatic corps while engaged in such…tense exchanges with Saddle Arabia would surely do more harm than good at this moment.

“Your suitability for your present role will be reevaluated at a later date, subsequent to a proper and thorough review of your management leading up to the current crisis.”

This time the unicorn stallion didn’t need to feign anything; he was quite genuinely nervous. It was hard not to be ill at ease when the pony who was formerly Nightmare Moon was staring down at you from over her muzzle. A great many stories from his formative years about what the younger alicorn was purported to do to misbehaving youths replayed themselves briefly in his head. As irrational and preposterous as those thoughts were, one’s deep-seated foalhood fears did not simply evaporate upon achieving adulthood.

He swallowed back the lump in his throat. He knew he was covering his track thoroughly enough that he need not worry about facing any truly severe repercussions from the princesses. At worst, an admonishment from The Crowns for not addressing the precipitating matter sooner. Though, even if the princesses should decide that he was no longer desirable as one of their ministers, that would hardly be the end of his political career. And he’d still be an earl besides. What was important was that Equestria would emerge from the ashes of the coming war stronger than ever, with plenty of additional land for future expansion and development. Whatever else happened, the stallion could be satisfied with Equestria's guaranteed prosperity.

Alabaster dipped his head. “As Your Majesty says, of course.”

“In the meantime,” Celestia said, taking back control of the conversation, “We would like you to ask Sultan Rahid-In to give Equestria time to sort the matter out ourselves before he takes any rash actions.” She ignored a snort from her younger sister. “Tell him that my sister and I will revisit his…” She eyed the scroll purported to be written by the sultan warily, frowning, “...suggestion in one week.”

“As you command, Your Majesty,” the stallion bowed.

Luna looked to the intelligence director. "Our agents will, of course, continue to investigate this matter to the best of their ability." The batpony mare issued a sharp nod of acknowledgement of the order.

"We have a couple of open leads that we're doing our utmost to follow up on, Your Majesty."

The unicorn did his best not to look at the director upon hearing the remark. His understanding with Nocturne was that there weren't supposed to be any leads for his agency to 'follow up on'. It seemed that he would need to arrange for them to have another conversation on the matter.

“You are dismissed then, Earl Bitter Creek. Director Em-Dash,” Celestia said. Both ponies bowed before their diarchs.

As they turned to walk away, the unicorn heard Luna call after him. “Minister? Do try and bring Our Sister and I better tidings in the future, hmm?” He hurriedly nodded towards the lunar alicorn and extracted himself from the palace’s Great Hall. Only then did Fetlock allow himself to breathe a true sigh of relief. A smile touched his face once more as he trotted down the halls. His plan was progressing relatively smoothly thus far. So long as Maniple and Nocturne didn’t foul up their task of tying up those five ‘loose ends’ before the EIS's director became aware of them, then none of them had anything to worry about and Equestria’s future glory would be assured.

He floated out a fresh piece of parchment and a feather quill, drafting a few notes on how he would frame ‘Their Majesties’ response to the sultan.

Your Excellency, My Sister and I denyrebuke your allegations of misconduct by Captan officer of our most honorable Cavalry. Our soldvaliant soldiers were rightfully defending themselves in the face of unwarrantunprovoked aggression by the horses of Gallopoli. The Crowns fully endorstand firmly behind Captain Corsair’s actions. We further insistwarn that any violation of Equestria’s sovereignty will be―

Author's Note

I'm prouder of the punniness of the Saddle Arabian sultan's name than I have any right to be...

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