A similar phenomeom has been witnessed by anypony who has ever tried to carry a load of kindling all by themselves. The more you pick up, the less of a grip you have on each individual piece, and the more likely you are to drop the entire load. In this way, we see that the ruler who tries to govern the most usually ends by governing the least.
Princess Celestia Invicta Sol, Some Notes Towards A Codification of Statecraft
The three men swaggered into the conference room, their cloaks billowing dramatically behind them, fetishes of animal and human bones rattling underneath the cloaks, and weapons clutched in their hands.
“Everyone in this room is going to die!” the foremost announced joyfully, slamming the butt of his spear on the linoleum floor for emphasis. All around them, hands twitched towards holsters as Blackmesh security operatives made split second decisions about the career repercussions of gunning down the representatives of a theoretically friendly badlands faction versus allowing harm to come to a high ranking Equestrian personage. Caleb Killian, Accredited Rhetoriari of the Ossuary Brotherhood, couldn’t help but grin to see that the attire and demeanor of he and his entourage was having exactly the effect he’d hoped for, although he made sure to show as many teeth as possible and let a psychotic gleam flare in his eyes when he did.
He also made certain to remain absolutely still after making his proclamation. Acting like a half mad savage to put the other party off balance during negotiations was one of the first tricks any rhetoriari worth the title mastered, but pushing it to the point that he got himself and his companions shot would do no good to anyone. Judging from the glare the Blackmesh colonel already seated at the negotiation table was shooting at him, he might have already crossed that line, which was a bit of a puzzle to Caleb. In all the past dealings he’d had with Col. Raphael Miklovich, negotiating to secure the Brotherhood’s services as guides or auxiliaries for Blackmesh operations in badlands sectors, the man had reacted to the posturing and theatricality that was standard rhetoriari fare with dry amusement, particularly when it unnerved Blackmesh operatives unfamiliar with the Brotherhood’s methods.
The scowl became much more understandable when Caleb glanced at the being uncomfortably crouched in a swivel chair to the colonel’s right. Unlike the other members of the Brotherhood delegation, Killian couldn’t claim any special expertise or insight regarding the strange equine creatures that had been filtering into the twofer or favela sectors for the past several months, but if their body language was anything like that of a human the yellow winged…pegasus, wasn’t that what they called themselves? was absolutely terrified.
“Ambassador Fluttershy.” Miklovich said, tugging at the collar of his dress uniform. “It is a custom for members of the Ossuary Brotherhood to remind one another of their mortality as a form of greeting. Mr. Killian means no threat, he merely offers you a courtesy.” Mentally, Caleb applauded. He had never heard the words “Because he’s a blithering idiot” draped so clearly over an unrelated series of sentences without letting the voice stray from the boundaries of calm politeness. In response, he carefully set his weapon down against the wall and shifted his expression from “heathen berserker, might go off half-cocked at any second” to “honorable but not too bright tribesman grappling with the complexities of diplomacy and protocol.”
“Please, forgive me Ambassador.” he said, uncertain whether to dignify the title with a missus or mister. “It was certainly not my intention to cause offense or alarm.” He thought he saw the pegasus’s lips move, but if it made any sort of response it was completely inaudible. With a pang of irritation, he noted that the thing wasn’t even looking at him, but instead peering over his left shoulder towards…oh dear.
The Ossuary Brotherhood took its name and much of its notoriety from the charming practice many of its members had of decorating their property and their bodies with bleached bones acquired in particularly memorable hunts or combats, with little distinction as to whether said decorations were collected from humans or animals. All three representatives were decked out to the hilt in rattling relics from humans, dogs, snakeheads, razorhogs, and, in Condemnitor Samuel Bode’s case, the scrimshawed skull of a unicorn worked into the shoulder guard of his scavenged Blackmesh riot vest, visibly protruding from under his dark grey cloak.
That particular adornment had been the subject of some debate among the three delegates, but in the end a consensus had been reached that if it was acceptable to wear human remains to meetings with other tribes, cartel members, or representatives of Worldgov, then in the spirit of egalitarianism (and also the spirit of not unnecessarily antagonizing someone who was both as strict in his observation of the Brotherhood’s rites and as successful in murder-duels as Bode) it should be quite all right for the warrior-priest to wear the skull to a meeting with pony representatives. At the time Killian had believed it would simply be another tool in his campaign to off balance his quadruped counterpart, but even his considerable gift of gab couldn’t work its magic on someone who was to terrified to even talk to him. More startling to anyone who had any experience with rhetoriari in general or Caleb in particular, the obvious fear in the little creature’s blue eyes was tugging at feelings of sympathy and guilt that many in the Brotherhood swore their diplomat/lawyer caste were completely devoid of, possibly due to some sort of arcane deal with Satan himself.
“Colonel Miklovich, if it’s not too much trouble, I believe that matters will proceed much more smoothly if my colleague Mr. Bode explains exactly how he acquired the…artifact on his left shoulder, and the meaning behind it.” He said, beckoning Samuel forward. The condemnitor locked gazes with him momentarily, and the two spent a second in the nigh telepathic communion that comes from spending a long time working togather. You know I hate telling this story. Samuel’s stare said. We wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place if you weren’t so hard headed. Caleb’s answered, and with a nod of acquiescence the lanky zealot stepped forward, ignoring the pegasus’s attempt to flinch farther back in her chair.
“Madame Ambassador.” Bode said, and Caleb spent a moment envying his friend’s rain barrel deep voice and noting that apparently the pegasus was female, “You were informed about some of the Brotherhood’s beliefs and customs before this meeting, correct? It is true that we gather the bones of fallen enemies and use them as decoration, tools and building materials. This is not mere barbarity…in the badlands we lack the resources to waste any useful material, and it serves as a warning and deterrent to those who might otherwise attack us. But that is not the purpose of the bones we wear on our persons.”
Bode’s features, which had been accurately if not kindly described as those of a vulture contemplating using its claws to usher a meal from the realm of the potential to the certain, lit up as he warmed to his subject. “The ones we keep on us at all times…they are reminders, mementos of our past failings..or our sins, kept close so that we may never forget them. This,” he tapped one long finger on the skull, “belonged to a…I believe you call them Newfoals? The changed? Who called himself Orange Crush. He came into the badlands to preach to the tribes and freeholds about your conversions and your Celestia. Fat little fellow…said he was a history teacher when he was a human, and enjoyed debating the merits of changing with we condemnitors. We…I told him he would have safe passage anywhere in Brotherhood territory.” Bode stared into the skull’s sockets, remembering when they’d been clothed in flesh and blood, and his expression darkened.
“What we didn’t know was that some of the Devil Dogs…another badlands tribe, we’ve often clashed with them over territory or supplies, had decided to test us. The Brotherhood had promised him safety, so they raided our territory and took him. We caught up with them, but not before they’d put him to the flame…they have something of a preference for fire, as a weapon or a tool of questioning. He was still alive when we took their camp…although just barely.” Now he stared, his eyes seeing not the well lit conference room, but the aftermath of the strike on the raiders’ camp, and a small figure charred so badly it was impossible to tell what its original coloration was, unable to raise its voice above a hiss. “The last thing he said to me was to ask not to hurt the ones that burned him….”
“What happened to them?” Fluttershy asked, speaking for the first time since the badlands representatives had strutted into the conference room. “The ones who…”
“They all died.” Bode answered, in a tone that brooked no further discussion. Behind him, Philip Daniels, the third of the Brotherhood, who had remained poker faced as his companions carried the discussion, shot his own glance towards Caleb. Well, that pretty well sunk this thing. Rumbled Philip’s blocky features. Not my fault, and why didn’t you help me convince him not to wear the damn skull? Was Caleb’s silent reply.
“Mrs. Fluttershy.” The colonel said, breaking what had promised to be a long, uncomfortable silence. “The story that Mr. Bode related is not unknown to me, and is one of the reasons I had thought he and his ‘friends’ would be suitable for the purposes your Princesses require. The Brotherhood may have its eccentricities, but they have fought alongside Blackmesh on several occasions, and we have found them capable, if somewhat unorthodox. Moreover, when they give their word, they either keep it or perish in the attempt to do so.”
“Colonel, colonel.” Killian said sorrowfully, sliding one of the chairs out from the table and plopping . “Are you really going to open this negotiation by admitting that this line lady’s rulers have a ‘need’ for us? I thought better of you than that. “ Bode and Phillip took seats beside him.
“Worldgov will not be footing the bill for this, IF you accept, so I see no need to begin by haggling like an old fishwife.” Miklovich answered. “Apologies, ambassador.”
“No, no, it’s all right.” Fluttershy answered. “That’s..never really been my specialty either.”
“Oh, don’t sell yourself short.” Caleb told her, sliding smoothly from “none to bright tribesman” to “exotic charmer”. The fact that she wasn’t of the same species bothered him not a whit, when it came time to wheel and deal he could and had flattered and charmed females that, at first glance, were even farther from a human being than the litle yellow pegasus. “Why don’t you tell me what you require the services of the Brotherhood for, and we’ll see if we can’t come to some sort of arrangement?”
“You know that Princess Celestia insisted that the opportunity to convert be offered to all the people of earth, not just the ones in the civilized areas.” She said, and Caleb nodded. “We want to start setting up Conversion Bureaus in the badlands sectors, and your rulers say that to do that, we’ll need to have…soldiers to guard us.” She said the last sentence as if it turned to ashes in her mouth, but Caleb ignored that.
“Us? Guard a Bureau?” he said to Miklovich. “One wonders why Blackmesh would be so eager to hand off that sort of responsibility to such an eccentric and unorthodox clan as ourselves. After all, you fellows have that fine fortification right on the outskirts of our territory…”
“All you need to know…all you’re GOING to know is that there are many matters that require Blackmesh’s attention, and that we have not the time nor the manpower to fulfill every need of both Worldgov and the Princesses.” answered the colonel. “The Princesses require a force that is familiar with the area, competent, and fairly reliable to staff Fort Bromhead and…”
“Fort Bromhead? That’s where the ponies want to set up this changing station?” Phillip finally said something, drawing a startled eep! From the ambassador, who appeared to have momentarily forgotten he was there. The fact that he spoke in a snarling rasp, courtesy of almost having his throat torn out by an extremely vigorous specimen of that breed of badlands fauna known as the “razorhog” no doubt played a factor in her unsettlement. “Blackmesh is handing it over to these…Equestrians, and you want us to garrison it?” As long as any of the Brotherhood could remember, Bromhead had squatted in between the petty warlords and nomadic tribes of the badlands sectors and the more urbanized favela areas like a trained war hound, keeping anything except enterprising salvage smugglers and small raiding parties form swarming out of the ruined wilderness and falling on those under the benevolent fist of Worldgov. As one of the Brotherhoods’ strategists, Phillip had spent many evenings simulating attacks and infiltrations on its walls using model buildings and tiny figurines carved from bone…not that they had actually made a sortie the fort in over a generation; they probably had a better relationship with Worldgov than many of the badlands factions, but still.
“Is that particularly problematic for you, Mr. Daniels?” Miklovich replied, drawing a truly beaming smile in answer.
“Oh, no, not at all.” Phillip growled. “ I can honestly say that most of my boys have dreamed of fighting inside that fort’s walls as long as they’ve been alive.” That got a smirk from the Miklovich and the rest of the guards in the room, although Fluttershy just blinked in bewilderment.
“One detail.” This from Bode. “If, and I do not promise anything for certain just yet, if we accept this plan, then I want it known that none of the Brotherhood shall be changed by this…Potion of yours.”
“Princess Celestia says that ponification is open to everyone who wants it. And that means…”
“Tell me something, Miss.” Bode cut her off. “I now something of your newfoals. To hunt, to fight and kill…this is anathema to them. I am aware of how we must seem to you, but allow me to assure you that in the badlands, the Ossuary Brotherhood is as kind and caring a group as you could possibly meet. Were we to change as you ponies will no doubt ask us to do, who then would protect you?”
“Not to interrupt the esteemed condemnitor, but there’s also the small matter of recompense to be considered.” Caleb put in. It would have taken someone as familiar with his personal tells as Phillip or Bode to recognize that the mere thought of extracting payment directly from the Princesses had him mentally salivating in more ways than one. Few members of the Brotherhood were fonder of the rare and expensive (in the badlands, anyway) freshly imported Equestrian produce than the slender rhetoriari, and he had already set aside a portion of the payment strictly for fruits and vegetables. “And my dear ambassador, I must tell you that currency, even your bits, is less than useless out in the badlands sectors. We’ll want medicines, steel ore, food…”
“Oh!” Fluttershy told him. “Twilight Sparkle thought that might be the case, I’ve got some preliminary payment schedules already drawn up if you’d like to look them over….”And with that, the meeting fell into a complex wrangle between her and Caleb over services rendered in exchange for goods delivered, livened only slightly by philosophical remarks from Bode or practical military considerations from Phillip or Miklovich. It wasn’t until a general rest break was called for relieving bodily functions and obtaining extra rations of sweet rolls that Caleb’s expression suddenly turned sour.With a truly disgusted look, he reached inside his cloak and began to fumble around the inside of his breeches, much to the surprise of everyone present.
“Caleb…what in God’s name do you think you’re doing?” Bode asked, mentally running through the events of the last few days to see if, in hindsight, his friend’s mental breakdown should have been readily apparent.
“Checking to make sure I’ve still got my undergarments on.” Fluttershy and the Blackmesh colonel stared at the Killian, whose explorations had become extremely impolite for mixed company. The condemnitor side stepped to put himself between Caleb and the spear that still leaned against the wall, and tried again.
“WHY are you checking to make sure you still have undergarments on?”
“Because Mrs. Fluttershy, the little….”Rhetoriari training refused to let the phrases he so dearly wished to utter spill forth. “ambassador, has well and truly played us every single moment of this negotiation. I knew I’d heard that name before, I knew it. She’s one of those that Orange never shut up about, those Order Elementals, the ones that faced down dragons and Chaos monsters and…and..she’s terrified to tears of a skull? Get the other side off balance, get them reacting with their emotions and not their mind, and you’ve halfway won. You…you…”he sputtered, yanking his hand out of his pants and waving it wildly in Fluttershy’s general direction.
Phillip threw his head back and howled, a sound that had the Blackmesh guards reaching for their sidearms again before the combination of his rapidly filling with tears eyes and hapless convulsions made them realize he was laughing…or at least as close as he could approximate it through his mangled throat.“Expert negotiator!” Phillip wheezed. “Best rhetoriari in the whole damn Brotherhood! And you got outdone by a little…by a…”he blasted another gargle of noise through the room.
“Oh no!” said Fluttershy, shocked. “I wouldn’t…I could never…” Her helpless protestations of innocence only turned Caleb’s face an even more alarming shade of crimson and doubled Phillip over in hilarity. Even Miklovich turned his head to one side and covered his mouth with one hand, but Bode…he leaned back in his chair and regarded the Element of Kindness with a neutral expression, which coincidentally was the same expression he wore when facing opponents in the dueling circle.
“I can see already that having your kind for employers is going to be an…interesting experience.” he said, running his fingers over the pony skull on his shoulder. “Very interesting….”
Fin Chapter 1
Author's Note
Another day, another Conversion Bureau story.
This one's not a one shot, I want to expand on some of the philosophical/ethical stuff inherent in the verse. And have hatchet fights, there was a distinct lack of those in my last story.
Anyway, in this fic I take the notion from the "Chatoyanceverse" that Earth is divided into a few decent areas for the high and mighty, the vast favelas where dwell peons like thee and me, and I ignore all that to focus on "badlands" zones, which were completely wrecked in the Great Collapse and where the Worldgov has about as much authority as the government of Brazil has over the depths of the Amazon rainforest. But there are people there, and one of Conversion Bureau Celestia's driving commands has been that everybody...EVERYBODY! Gets a shot at ponification.
Why's Fluttershy the ambassador? Well, let's see. We need somebody to deal with aggressive animals that seem to have a severe lack of soul. Who among the Elements of Harmony has experience in that area? (Hint: Not Rainbow Dash)
As for the exact relationship between Blackmesh and the Brotherhood, I see it as similar to that between the U.S. Calavary and its Indian scouts after the Civil War. Peace out, and see you in Chapter 2.
