Gallopoli,

Eastern Saddle Arabia,

And The Western Arborlands,

Western Equestria

“Is this going to take much longer?” The horse pulling the wagon snarled irritably at the pegasus wearing sergeant’s chevrons. He was eyeing the trio of ponies that constituted the checkpoint’s inspection detail as they dutifully picked their way through each one of the sewn up sacks that he was pulling. One of the unicorns was using something that looked not unlike a paintbrush that he ran over each of the sacks and then promptly dunked it into a small vial of liquid, which he then proceeded to shake vigorously with his telekinesis and examining the result before repeating the process with the next sack.

Sergeant Fair Skies didn’t so much as flinch beneath the obvious scorn of the trader. She’d been enduring such looks and tones for the entirety of the week since Bronco Company had taken up their assigned tasks in Gallopoli. If anything, the grumbling had mostly subsided as the residents adapted to the new routine. Truth be told, the delays were rather minimal considering the thoroughness of the searches that were being conducted. As little as five minutes for every wagon, and the small village was hardly a bustling hive of activity on a good day.

There were maybe a dozen wagons that came through every morning and just as many that left. Those were searched as well, just as meticulously, and just as efficiently. The overall imposition was, in the pegasus’ opinion, extremely minor. Certainly it wasn’t worth the grief that she was being given. “My team has almost finished, sir. We’ll have you on your way in another minute or two.” She didn’t even glance up from the Bill of Lading that she was giving a cursory review.

Whatever the differences in their customs might be, Equestria and Saddle Arabia were quite similar with respect to their bureaucracies and how their paperwork was laid out. It had taken little training for the inspection teams to familiarize themselves with how Arabian transport documentation was laid out when compared with their Equestrian equivalent.

The looming stallion huffed and continued to glower at the ponies for the remainder of the inspection. He grumbled something that Fair Skies was certain hadn’t been complimentary when his paperwork was returned to him before pulling his cart into the town. The sergeant waved the next wagon forward and her team jumped once more to the task of inspecting the contents while she looked over the provided Bill of Lading.

While doing so, the mare became aware of a familiar pair of ponies approaching her team. It was a testament to her professionalism that the pegasus managed to not outwardly react to the visit, despite knowing exactly what was about to happen. Again. If there was any silver lining to be had, it was that at least one of the pair looked just as unhappy about what was about to happen as the sergeant was. Well, to be accurate: both of the approaching ponies looked unhappy. However, the orange unicorn’s frown was borne out of sympathy for the inspection team’s noncom.

The teal unicorn he was escorting was just a bitch.

“Sergeant Fair Skies,” the Ministry of Foreign Affairs envoy began in the harsh tone that the pegasus had become all too familiar with, “I was under the impression that these ridiculous ‘inspections’ were supposed to be done with!”

The flier returned the paperwork she’d reviewed to its owner and allowed her detail to complete their search of the wagon’s contents while she directed her attention to deal with the more immediate threat. “I apologize if there was a misunderstanding, ma’am,” she began in as polite a tone as she could manage. A not so simple feat given how much of a thorn in her side the ministry envoy had endeavored to make herself since the moment of their arrival. “However, that is not the case.

“Today is when the town’s chief expects to receive independent confirmation of the articles of the existing trade agreement between Equestria and Saddle Arabia. When they arrive, he, the Captain, and yourself, will review them together and finally establish who is correct regarding the accuracy of the documents in the Captain’s possession.

“Until that time, the existing orders that I have been given regarding the search of all incoming and outgoing wagons, carts, and saddlebags stand,” she finished tersely. “You are within your rights, of course, as an envoy, to petition the Captain to reconsider those orders.” The mare did her best to hide her smile as she watched the teal unicorn’s eye start to twitch.

It was well understood―unofficially―by every soldier in the company that Captain Corsair was not receiving the envoy anymore. Technically, there was not any sort of requirement that existed which mandated the commanding officer of a Frontier Corps unit to meet personally with any ministry representatives which had been attached to them. Only that they must accept directives or suggestions made by said representative. Many times, circumstances existed which made face-to-face meetings impossible, or at the least impractical, and so written correspondence was perfectly acceptable. Under the letter of the relevant regulations.

Envoy Autumn Brisk, thus, was permitted to write out any complaints she had about what the Captain was doing and deliver them to Lieutenant Lumiere for submission to the commander as often as she liked. A hundred times a day, if that’s what she felt was warranted. The XO, in turn, would indeed deliver those written missives to the company's commander.

What Captain Corsair did with them once they made it to her desk was her business.

Sergeant Fair Skies certainly knew nothing about the pile of unread correspondence that was waiting to be burned during the company’s next marshmallow roast. Not a thing.

The teal mare bristled, her lip curling back into a sneer. “I see.” Her eyes flashed to the owner of the wagon that was currently undergoing inspection, her features immediately softening into an expression of sympathy and regret with a fluidity and speed that only a seasoned Bridleway actress―or a politician―could manage. “My deepest apologies for this terrible invasion of your privacy, madam,” she said to the horse who seemed quite pleased to have a sympathetic individual among the ponies currently harassing her wares. “I have a temporary office set up near the town hall. Please do drop by and I will help you to lodge a formal complaint with my government as quickly as possible.”

Autumn Brisk cast a much less appreciative aside glance at the sergeant. “I have a form letter for the occasion, complete with the names of all of those involved in this incident.”

Sergeant Fair Skies kept her features impassive. She didn’t appreciate these thinly veiled attempts at intimidation in the slightest, but she wasn't going to lose her cool over it. It was hardly the pegasus’ fault that the envoy didn’t like these inspections. They’d all read the same trade agreement articles mandating these searches. The teal unicorn could spurt and sputter all she wanted about her 'knowing that there was a revised version out there somewhere'. She certainly didn’t have a copy of this alleged new agreement on her, and it would be folly to take the word of a green envoy on her first mission for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs over a bona fide paper copy of a trade agreement that bore the ministry’s own seal in the captain's possession.

On missions like this one, envoys generally enjoyed a lot of latitude in how they directed their escort of Frontier Corps ponies to go about their assignment. However, one restriction that they did have was that they had no authority to override formal treaties or agreements between governments. As much as Envoy Autumn Brisk bristled at the ‘diplomatic implications’ of these searches, they were a part of a formal trade agreement signed by both Equestria and Saddle Arabia. Thus, she had no footing upon which to stand to get the Captain to stop them.

When―or indeed if―a newer version of the agreement arrived whose authenticity could be verified which contained different directives in it, then the inspections would stop. Until that moment, however, Sergeant Fair Skies knew that there wasn’t a Court Martial in Equestria that would so much as reprimand any of them for doing what they were: which was following the guidelines of a treaty as best as they could be expected to.

If it turned out that the copy that Captain Corsair had been given was out of date, then all of this would ultimately fall at the Ministry’s hooves for giving her an outdated copy of the agreement in the first place. Captain Corsair was hardly in a position to question what one of Their Majesties’ government offices had given her.

Until that time, however…

“Next!” she barked, waving along the Arabian whose cart had just cleared inspection so that they could move on to their next visitor.

“I miss how things were on the train,” Flashover sighed as he sat down with the dappled stallion at the food stall, “back when Brisky was all pretty and nice. Now she’s just...ugh.”

Corporal Cravat smirked at the unicorn as he nibbled at the falafels on his plate. He was actually finding himself to be quite the fan of Saddle Arabian cuisine. When he did finally return to his family’s estate, he resolved to hire a chef who knew how to make some of these dishes. If he was going to have to live with his position, he might as well take advantage of it. “It’s always so hard to watch a pony suffer from heartbreak.” Nothing about his tone suggested that he was feeling any amount of sympathy for his friend. “You’ll likely be inconsolable until you find somepony new.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” the unicorn continued with a shrug, “I mean, I’d still mount her in a heartbeat. She may be a nag, but she’s still a hot nag. I’d just have to bury her head in a pillow or something so I wouldn’t have to listen to her complain about everything.”

“Truly, you are the consummate compassionate lover and a gift to all mare-kind.”

“Hey, I’ve never heard any complaints.”

“Is that because you muffle them by burying their faces in pillows?” The dappled stallion quirked an amused brow as he watched the unicorn blow a raspberry at him.

“You’re a riot. No, seriously though, what is up with her lately? She complains about everything that we do! I mean, I get that she’s a civilian and so maybe she doesn’t know how things get done in the Cavalry, but she’s too smart to be this dumb about everything!

“We’re supposed to be on the lookout for glitterdust. How does she expect us to find any if we don’t, you know, look for it?”

Cravat shrugged. “Beats me. In her defense, she says we’re not supposed to be looking for glitterdust.”

“And that’s another thing I don’t get. The Captain showed her the treaty. Brisky saw it with her own eyes. She even admitted that the seal was genuine,” the unicorn sounded exasperated, “but she still says it's wrong!”

“To be fair, the chief seemed a little confused too,” the earth pony noted. “On the other hoof, he’s only been the chief here for a few years and the copy of the treaty that he found in their town records was even older than the one that we have. A courier is supposed to be arriving from Instanbull soon with the latest copy from the Saddle Arabian government. Hopefully that’ll settle things.”

“I’m not sure who I’d rather have turn out to be right,” Flashover frowned. “If it’s the Captain, then Brisky’s going to keep being a sourpuss about all of this; but if she turns out to have been right all along, I feel like she’s going to be unbearably smug for the rest of the mission.

“I don’t want to have to deal with that.”

“Nothing brings a noncom more joy than watching the hopes and aspirations of a young soldier finally be crushed by the weight of reality,” Cravat sighed. “You were so happy to get this attaché assignment, and now look at you: all bitter and disillusioned.

“We’ll make a proper soldier out of you yet!”

“You’re not nearly as funny as you think you are.”

“Motherbucker, I’m hilarious―!” the dappled earth pony’s mirthful chuckle was interrupted by his twitching ear and the distant sounds of frantic yelling that had set it off. Both his and Flashover’s expressions sobered quickly as they looked around for the source of the distant commotion.

The orange unicorn’s magic enveloped his spear as he brought it cautiously to his side. “A fight?” There had been scarcely little need for any sort of policing presence in the small town. The populace was rather peaceful overall. Most of the disturbances had been little more than haggling sessions that just got a little more heated than both parties intended, and even those had yet to devolve into acts of actual violence.

Likewise, the briefed salamandar incursions had also been minor and infrequent. The few incidents that had occurred with the reptiles hadn't needed much more than a bit of yelling and posturing by the ponies to resolve. Certainly nothing that would have caused as much commotion as they were hearing now.

Then a single word finally rang clearly above the distant din: “Medic!”

Cravat was in motion in an instant, his unfinished meal left behind at the stall. His unicorn companion wasn’t far behind, his weapon at the ready. After all, where there were injured, there was usually a source for said injury. Both ponies sprinted through the town, weaving through the much larger locals with deft ease thanks to their smaller size.

They were met at the outskirts by a collection of both horses and ponies. The latter bore cuts and bloody weapons. The former were on the much smaller side for the typical Saddle Arabian, and were dragging something behind them. Colts and Fillies, Cravat quickly realized. Some of the local children that must have been outside the town.

Instinctively, the corporal ran up first to one of the roughed up Bronco Company ponies to begin checking them over, but was quickly waved away, directed towards the horses, “Not us; him!”

Cravat quirked a brow and galloped over to the gaggle of younger equines. That was when he finally got a good look at what they’d been towing behind them: a piece of canvas with another young colt lying atop it. A colt whose coat was soaked with blood. A collection of bandages that had once been pieces of clothing and uniforms looked to have been hastily applied to the most grievous on the injuries, but they weren’t doing all that much. The earth pony tossed his medical satchel at Flashover. “Assist me!”

The orange unicorn dropped his spear and caught the bag, opening it up and holding it at the ready to begin doling out whatever supplies the company’s medic asked for. The dappled pony knelt down beside the unconscious colt and placed a hoof firmly against the side of his neck. There was a pulse, at least. Not much of one, but it meant that he had a patient worth trying to save for the moment. His next course of action was to rip away the existing fabric so that he could get a look at what he was dealing with.

It wasn’t good. This colt hadn’t just been attacked; he’d been mauled!

“It came out of nowhere,” one of the other haggard pony soldiers was saying to him, “the kids were out playing some game with a net and a ball. They invited us to join in. Everything was fine at first. Then, the next thing we know, the ground just...explodes! This big scaly snake thing caught that poor colt immediately.” The mare clutched her bloody spear to her side. “We drove it off, but I don’t think it’s dead.”

“Sand Wyrm,” a Saddle Arabian filly offered, her voice still trembling with obvious fear. Perfectly understandable, given what she must have witnessed. “They live beneath the ground. Very dangerous. They are attracted by hoofsteps on the ground.” she frowned now. “But it is very strange for one to be this close to the town. Too many hoofsteps actually scare them off. The noise annoys them.”

“This one seemed very angry,” another colt added, “I think it’s their mating season. It looked like a bull wyrm to me. Probably young and trying to secure territory for mates.”

Cravat was only half paying attention as he worked to get the worst of the bleeding under control. He could make out nearly a dozen deep fang punctures along the injured colt’s flank and haunches. Nothing that seemed to threaten any of his major organs, fortunately, but they were still causing a lot of bleeding. “Coagulant solution three,” he barked at his unicorn helper, who immediately floated out a vial of yellow liquid. Cravat bit off the rubber stopper, calling for the next item he’d need even as he dribbled the contents of the vial into each of the wounds. “Rolled gauze. Keep them coming!” He jabbed a hoof at the nearby pony soldiers, “your barding straps. All of them. Now!”

After a passing moment of shocked confusion, the Bronco Company soldiers quickly set about shucking their blood and dirt splattered armor and salvaging the leather straps which affixed it to their bodies and passed them over to the medic who was diligently stuffing rolls of cotton gauze into the puncture wounds.

“Someone needs to tell the chief about this,” one of the young horses said, swallowing nervously. It was clear that none of them relished being saddled with the task.

“We’ll also need to track down the colt’s parents,” a unicorn soldier noted once he’d finished collecting all of the acquired straps, “let them know what happened to their son.”

The young horses all exchange looks, and then turned to the unicorns who’d spoken. “That’s what we mean,” one of them said, gesturing to the colt who was just barely clinging to life, “he is the chief’s son.”

Nightjar looked up as she glided silently through the air, a slight frown creasing her lips. There were a lot of clouds tonight. Not a bad thing in and of itself, but it always made her a little nervous when the moon wasn’t clearly visible. Especially when she was going to be meeting somepony she didn’t know in a location that hadn’t been entirely of her own choosing.

It didn’t help that she was anxious enough already about leaving the tailing of The Ivory Company in the hooves of one of her subordinates. Not that she didn’t trust them to get the job done competently. Recluse was a capable enough sort. She didn’t doubt his abilities or his dedication.

However, the batpony mare couldn’t help but feel a little possessive of this assignment. It was ‘hers’ in a great many respects. She’d been the one present during that initial suspicious meeting between the earl’s majordomo and Captain Hawkwood. She’d been the one to request permission to tail the mercenaries even after the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the Frontier Corps had been uncharacteristically helpful in dispelling her raised concerns. It was her mission in every way that mattered.

Which had caused her quite the dilemma when Nocturne’s message about the meeting she’d asked for had finally reached her. She wanted to be the pony to conduct this interview, but that meant leaving the surveillance in the hooves of somepony else until she got back. With her luck, she’d miss something big happening while she was away.

All she could hope was that this meeting proved to be as fruitful as she could hope it would. They might even be able to explain why The Ivory Company had just been sitting on the Equestria-Arabian border for the last few days, seemingly just lounging around in the woods for no conceivable reason.

The writ of passage through Equestria that they held had not outlined a definitive timetable by which they needed to vacate the princedom, but Nightjar doubted that it was truly without end either. Were they just trying to see how far they could push Equestria’s good will? The mercenaries were mostly griffons, so that was certainly possible…

The batpony mare angled her wings and banked downward towards the prescribed meeting spot: a large oak tree which towered a good bit above its smaller neighbors. She circled the area once, scanning the canopy and surrounding area one final time before landing upon one of the exposed limbs. Nightjar resumed scanning the area intently with her slitted amber eyes. Meetings like this were always risky. If she wasn’t so desperate for evidence she wouldn’t have agreed to it in the first place.

As alert as she was, the mare still wasn’t prepared for the sound of the stallion’s voice coming from behind her. “Hello there, Nighty; fancy meeting you here.”

She whirled around, instinctively flicking out the raking claws of one of the bracers she wore on her fetlocks. Her eyes widened in surprise as they beheld the familiar, yet unexpected, features of Operative Controller Nocturne; then they quickly narrowed. “What are you doing here?! You’re supposed to be back in Canterlot,” she hissed at the stallion.

The satisfied smirk that was simply begging to be smacked right off of the stallion’s face didn’t waver in the slightest. “Oh, but why shouldn’t I be here, Operative?”

Her lips pulled back in a sneer. “Because this is where I’m supposed to meet the contact with knowledge about what’s really going on. They said to come alone, and you’re being here will scare them off!

“You know that; you arranged the meeting!”

The stallion’s smile endured. “You are, they did, I won’t, and I do,” he replied simply.

Nightjar balked, curled her lips in confusion. “What do you mean you won’t scare them off? I’m supposed to meet them alone. If you’re here, then I’m not alone!”

“Ah, but you are! You’re meeting me...alone.”

The mare’s eyes widened once more, her jaw working in silence until she finally processed what Nocturne had said. Her features then immediately hardened. “You’re my contact?” She just about spat. “You piece of shit. This is a serious operation! I thought you had a real lead on somecreature who knew what was really going on!

“I swear to Luna, if this is another one of your pathetic attempts to 'flirt' with me I’ll geld you right here and now.”

That at least seemed to temper the stallion’s insufferable amusement somewhat, but he didn’t look the least bit cowed. “Oh, but I am a pony who knows what’s going on, Operative Nightjar; and I’m here to extend to you an offer that you would be advised to accept:

“Drop this. Call off the operation, close the investigation, and go back to fucking zebras in Roam,” the stallion’s own expression soured now, but only for a moment. Then his sickening smile was back. “Or...you could sign up with us and enjoy all the benefits that come with being on the right side of history.”

The mare hesitated, “...What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

The other batpony waggled a wing at her. “Please, I’m not about to reveal anything to an unvalidated asset. If you want the whole story, you’ll have to prove you can be trusted: call off the operation and have a closing report on my desk by the end of tomorrow and then I’ll see what I feel like telling you.”

“And if I don’t want any part of what I can only assume is something very illegal and probably a little treasonous?”

This did not seem to amuse the stallion at all. “It’s only treason if it isn’t in the best interests of Equestria and the Princesses. This most assuredly is in the best interests of everypony.”

“Then why all the secrets?”

“Because genius is rarely recognized in its time.”

Nightjar couldn’t help but let loose a derisive snort. “You’re a genius now? Since when?”

“You’re in or you’re out, Operative,” Nocturne seethed at her quip, “go back to Canterlot, or go back to Roam. Choose.”

“What exactly are you going to do if I continue with the mission?” She laughed, actually enjoying seeing him looking so frustrated. “You’re not overseeing it. I’m reporting right to the Directors on this one. Only they can tell me when I need to call everything off; and they aren’t likely to do that at least until The Ivory Company leaves Equestria.

“Which, they don’t seem to want to do, by the way. You wouldn’t happen to know why that is, would you? What are they waiting for anyway?”

“For you to go away.”

Nightjar’s eyes widened again. It wasn’t Nocturne who had spoken. This voice belonged to a mare. The batpony spun around and reared up, ready to fight. There was a loud ‘twang!’ as she did so and the mare felt something cold bite deep into her gut. She stumbled, one of her leathery wings instinctively going to the site of the sudden cool sensation, only to feel a wooden shaft tipped with stubby feather fletching.

She felt the pain of it now. The crossbow bolt had sunk deep into her side. Shock was already starting to set in.

A gap in the clouds passed over them at about that moment. Bright pale moonlight washed over the exposed limb of the oak tree and the canopy above. It hadn't been a mare who had spoken, Nightjar realized now. It was a griffon hen. She was perched up above them in the tree, obscured by branches and leaves. A spent crossbow was held in her outstretched talons.

Nocturne let out a disappointed sigh, shaking his head. “I sincerely wish you had agreed. You were a clever mare, Nightjar. Too clever, it turns out.” He shrugged. “Oh well. No use crying over spilled...blood, I suppose.” He reached up to his neck and touched the communications collar he wore that looked exactly like Nightjar's. “Winter Wrap Up.”

When his hoof pulled away, the collar dissolved a moment later. Nightjar felt the collar around her own neck melt away as well. ‘Winter Wrap Up’ meant that an operation had been compromised beyond the point of recovery. The communications collars connected with the operation all dissolved to prevent the targets of the operations from being able to use them to trace or eavesdrop on conversations, and every operative on the operation would disperse and return to Canterlot once they were clear of any observers that they may have picked up.

With three words, Nocturne had just canceled the operation. Not that Nightjar didn’t have far greater concerns at the moment, like the crossbow bolt embedded in her gut. The griffon hen dropped out of the trees, her talons stowing the crossbow and drawing out a sword instead. “You know, I’ve never had batpony before...” Her tongue slid along the edge of her beak.

Nightjar took an uneasy step back, her legs visibly wobbling. She was in no condition to fight, and she very much doubted that she could fly away either.

“I honestly don’t care what you do with her,” the stallion grunted, “I’m going to return to Canterlot and let Bitter Creek know the EIS is no longer a concern. You let Hawkwood know he can launch the operation whenever he’s ready to go.” With that, the stallion spread his leathery wings and took flight.

Nightjar was only marginally aware of his departure. Her attention was squarely focused on the sword-wielding hen standing on the limb in front of her. She couldn’t fight, and she couldn’t flee. Moonlight glinted off the polished steel.

Or, perhaps she could flee after all...

Nightjar went limp and fell over, slipping off the broad limb of the massive oak tree and vanishing into the shadows below. The griffon cursed and chased after the plummeting batpony. Only...she found no sign of the mare on either the ground or the other branches beneath where the mare had fallen. She heard nothing, saw nothing, and didn’t even smell anything. Odd to be sure, and more than a little frustrating, but the griffon didn’t have all night to spend looking for some pony with a belly wound. The mare was as good as dead with an injury like that. She certainly wasn’t going to be warning anypony about what was about to happen.

Gertrude snorted and launched herself back above the canopy. The Captain would want to know that they could finally get the mission underway and get paid. The sooner they were done in Saddle Arabia, the sooner they could go back south and away from all these damnable equines.

Author's Note

Thank you so much for reading! As always, a thumbs up and comment are always greatly appreciated

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