Heart Root was only the first. While his earthmoving talents did make him invaluable in the lair, I had Chrysalis recruit him for more subtle reasons. He had connections throughout the mountain communities: family friends, fellow farmers, and not a few malcontents like himself who'd been put between a rock and a hard place due to taxes or other misfortunes, and his rather theatrical gesture of defiance in Celestia's throne room... and his subsequent disappearance....  made him something of an icon amongst the disgruntled. Through him we made contact with dozens of farmers, homesteaders and the like who'd gotten reamed by Equestrian tax collectors, regulators, and other local variants of good old unfightable City Hall.

What, doesn't sound like the sort of thing dear old lovable Celestia would allow? What part of "monarchy" don't you understand? She had most of her country run, hell, all but owned by hereditary nobility. And nothing invites corruption like a system where you can't get fired for doing a lousy job. Even if it was a system where everyone in power was benevolent and honorable and just, people would fall through the cracks... and the nobles running Equestria were certainly NOT a bunch of angels. And with Celestia playing the Golden Glorious Sun Empress--- well, most ponies were too wrapped up in crown-worship to ever blame her, but for a few, when things really, really went wrong... well, it's not that far a jump from blind worship to hatred. Heck, it seemed like half the homesteaders scattered in the Equestria hills where Heart Root lived were getting reamed one way or the other or had some grudge against the rest of Equestria.

It was so easy to buy their loyalty, too; a few handfuls of gold to pay their back taxes, a spell or two-- or maybe the loan of a couple of tamed timberwolves-- to chase off bandits and vermin... and even the most reluctant of them were won over.  The protection racket is danged effective when you're actually offering some honest-to-God protection. And did they ever need protection. I mean crap, Ponyville, which was within actual line of sight of the capital, got plagued by timberwolves and parasprites and rogue weather and monsters in every variety of animal, vegetable and mineral on a weekly basis. Imagine what it was like in places like Hollow Shades or the Hayseed Swamps (actual places, I lie to you not.) But thanks to Heart Root putting in a good word for us, and a few "good deeds" here and there, pretty soon we had a scattered, but solid network of ponies willing to give us a hideout or a helping hoof, or at least look the other way when we snuck through their neck of the woods.

Of course I wasn't satisfied. Loyal help from the Little House on the Prairie set was nice and all-- they certainly gave us lots of root cellars and barns to hide in, and there was lots to be said for their gratitude; most of us would be in danger of getting fat on country home cookin' that got smuggled our way. But the occasional bag of veggies and wheel of cheese (and jug or two of hooch) wasn't getting us closer to the goal.

Which brought us to the next level of recruiting. We needed contacts who could turn my gold and gems into goods. But who? Filthy Rich had stabbed me in the back because he thought of himself as an honest businessman. And honest businessmen didn't deal with the likes of sinister wizards...

Allow yourself a moment to savor the irony.

So, I decided to test that old saying about honor among thieves. I started asking my ex-con ponies about their old associates back before they went in the clink, and told the bitter "salt of the earth" types to keep an eye out and an ear to the ground for a certain type of merchant. If I couldn't trust an honest businessman, I was going to see whether I could rely on a dishonest one.

The ramshackle wagon clattered its way up the winding mountain path, its two passengers dividing their attention between the perilous road ahead and casting nervous eyes back the way they'd come. The two were aspiring entrepreneurs whose last, ahem, itinerant business venture had proven FAR less popular than expected in their last stopover. In fact it had proven so unpopular that they had traded in their trademark striped shirts, bow ties and straw boaters for coveralls and hillbilly hats they'd stolen off a clothesline as they departed. Their garishly painted wagon had likewise had its gaudy painted sides draped with drab canvas sacks and tarps, its bold "Flim Flam Brothers" signage artfully concealed.  Of course, the fact that the wagon was moving under its own power rather undermined their efforts to make it look inconspicuous, but the urgency of their departure had made them a bit inattentive to detail. They were too busy looking back for pursuers.

They were, in fact, so urgently focused on the village some four hours behind them that they didn't even notice the roadblock till they were right on top of it.

Flim turned around in his seat and saw the mixed gang of ponies and diamond dogs blocking the road. "Oh, dear," Flim said. "Brother, it seems despite our best efforts we have inadvertently encountered some dissatisfied customers."

"Indeed, brother," Flam muttered unhappily. "Good morning, or is it afternoon yet, gentlefolk," he said, raising his voice to be heard by the strangers before him. "I am Flam, and this is my brother Flim. How can we be of--"

The leader of the group, a half-grown colt with strange eyes and a top hat tipped over his eye, spoke up. "Oh save it," he drawled in a  lower Canterlot accent(1). "We know who you are. Everypony from Ponyville to Canterlot knows who you are." He snorted. "You're the Flim Flam brothers. Inventors, entrepreneurs..."

"Ah, our fame precedes us," Flim said cockily.

"...And the two stupidest con men in the Equestrian hemisphere," the colt finished, eyes heavy with contempt. Flim and Flam glared at him, but he ignored it. "Maker knows why, but the Boss wants words with you. You're coming with us."

Flam leaned over the rail of their self-propelled wagon and quirked his mustache. "And if we decline this generous offer?" he said.

The top-hatted colt grinned, his slit-pupiled eyes flashing green. "Then we chase you down, beat you within an inch of your lives, and drag what's left of you to see the Boss anyway."

"....ah." The two hapless confidence ponies sat back, their bombast dramatically diminished. "Upon reflection, we shall accept your generous hospitality," Flim said.

"Smartest move you ever made." The tophatted one went over to the face of the hillside and kicked at it. As Flim and Flam watched, the rock and soil parted like a curtain, revealing a diamond dog tunnel large enough for them and their wagon to roll right in.

A moss-green unicorn was standing in the mouth of the tunnel, his horn glowing. "Well get a move on," the oldster said. "I ain't gonna hold up these rocks all day."

The two brothers shared a nervous glance. "Look at it this way," the tophatted colt said. "At least this way you'll be sure to lose those angry townsfolk still after you..." The brothers gulped and nodded. They were highly allergic to tar and feathers. Silently they turned the carriage off the road and sent it rumbling into the tunnel. Their abductors followed, the tunnel opening flowing shut and sealing as if it had never been.

I had heard about these two and decided that recruiting them would require my personal touch, ASAP. That's why I didn't have Artful Dodger give them any sort of pitch other than "come with me if you want to keep your teeth." (I was saving his skills at that for later.) I just had them beelined straight to the Lair.

Or one part of it, anyway.

Not to say I didn't use Dodger's brains on this one. He'd had some clever ideas on wowing these two shysters over, and I'd rolled with them. They'd stored the Flim Flam's wagon in a side tunnel and made them proceed on hoof, blindfolded, on a twisting route through the tunnels.... for a short ways. Then they un-blindfolded them. The first thing Flim and Flam saw was two enormous doors, guarded by four armed guards; two changelings and two minotaurs. It reportedly had the effect I was looking for; they were shaking in their metaphorical boots before the minotaurs even hauled the doors open.

The tour that followed was even more effective. By my orders Dodger took them to my throne room by the scenic route, trotting them past the barracks, the workshops, the armory, the kennels where Deadwood and the other timberwargs were kept... even past the storerooms. I had no fear they would reveal any information about our strength or resources to the outside world--- this was one of three "satellite" lairs we had made, so that we weren't all in one single vulnerable area. In truth we were spread pretty thin. We barely had a skeleton crew here. Dodger was clever and managed to take them on a circuitous route, back and forth past several points, making the whole sparse lair look far bigger and better supplied and staffed than it actually was.

By the time they got to me, after a few harrowing 'close shaves' with the livestock (the timberwargs and one caged cockatrice), they were good and overwhelmed. The throne room pretty well finished them off. The cavern was a lot smaller than the original-- a closet to the original dragon-sized cathedral-- and the heap of treasure the throne sat upon was almost comically small compared to the original, the rest having been dispersed to boltholes and emergency stashes around the Everfree. But it was still pretty impressive... at least to judge by the looks on their faces when they were marched into my presence.

I couldn't help grinning ear to ear inside my helmet as they stood there gaping at me. I could see it all in their faces: Fear, intimidation, uncertainty, but all heavily seasoned with calculating greed and ambitious speculation. Yeah, I had them hooked. I looked down at them from my throne, my fingers steepled in front of me. "So," I said. "The infamous Flim Flam brothers are finally brought into my presence."

"I-indeed we are, your Greatness," the mustached one said, sweeping his straw boater off in a bow. "H-how is it that we have come to your, ah, illustrious attention?"

I glowered at them for a moment with my glowing mask eyes, letting them sweat. "Do you know who I am?" I finally said.

The other one gulped and nodded, hastily bowing. "We have heard word of a-an individual," he stammered, "who, ah, was at odds with the Princesses and, um---"

"I'll tell you who I am," I said. "I am Darth Vulcan. Leader of the Diamond Dogs. Master of the remnant of the Changeling army. Bearer of the Alicorn Amulet. Enemy of the State, and of the Princesses of Equestria." I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "I come from a distant world beyond your comprehension. I conquered the Everfree, made it my domain. I bested three armies in the Battle for the Tree of Harmony. I slew a dragon singlehanded. Routed Discord.  Tore Canterlot castle itself from the face of the mountain. Killed Tirek himself with my own two hands as casually as you would swat a bug." The two gulped. "All this I have accomplished within the course of a single year, and I am yet to achieve a tenth of all I have planned.

"Do you know what I see when I see you standing before me?"

The two looked at each other, then shook their heads.  I got to my feet and glared down at them.

"Two. Idiots." They cringed. "My apprentice, Artful Dodger, was being generous when he called you the two stupidest con men in Equestria. I have lived in two worlds, and I've known dullards who, given a fraction of the resources and opportunities you two possess, would have been living lives of idle fortune within a year. But you two could bugger a county fair, couldn't you."

"N-now that's a bit harsh--" the mustachioed one started.

"No, it's understated," I said. On cue, Artful Dodger came up behind me with a sheaf of papers. I took them and began leafing through them: blueprints, formulas, notes. Flim and Flam recognized them immediately and began protesting.

"Now hold on, those are our confidential intellectual property!"

"I know," I said, uncaring. "Artful Dodger got them from your wagon. Look at this. This is precisely what I am speaking about." I held up one blueprint of something that looked like a cross between a calliope and a cuisinart. "A self-propelled, apple picking, sorting, and cider-pressing machine.  A mechanical miracle, an incredible labor saving device. Do you know how labor-intensive picking crops is? You could have made millions just marketing the fruit-picking device alone to farmers across Equestria. instead, you used the thing in a two-bit scam to try and swindle some old granny out of her orchard. And you even bungled THAT; letting the old fool cheat at a cider-making race, and then panicking and overloading your machine when the race started getting close. Oh yes, I've heard the reports." I wadded it up and threw it at them.

While they grimaced, I picked a recipe out of the stack. "Miracle tonic. A world full of genuine magical zebra potions, with recipes for free in every library and ingredients that grow for free in any forest glen or roadside ditch, and you tried to peddle a fake miracle tonic made of apples and beet leaves. It cost you more effort to make the fake tonic than to make a real one!" I wadded up that one and threw it too; it bounced off Flam's nose. "Oh, let's see here-- parasprite repellant. Idiots. Everyone knows that parasprites can be lured anywhere you want with polka music. You play a calliope in your roadshow. But did you think to market a musical parasprite trapping service? No, of course not." This one I flicked at Flim. "A self-propelled wagon. A world full of ponies breaking their backs pulling wagons behind them or living as slaves to the train schedules, and the only thing you use this for is to flee irate villagers? Morons!" I threw the armload of blueprints, recipes and confidence plans at them. They dropped to their knees and scrambled to scoop up their precious papers. "Inventions and ideas that could have made you this world's version of Thomas Edison or the Wright Brothers, and you waste them on useless, made-to-fail penny-ante scams!"

Flam (I was assuming the one with the mustache was Flam) spluttered at me. "What you do want from us, then?" he yelled in exasperation as his brother scrabbled for the scattered papers. "You didn't drag us all the way here just to insult us!"

My anger had been spiraling out of control without me even realizing it. I reined it in and collapsed back into my throne. "No," I admitted. "No, I did not." I regarded them. "I brought you here... first of all, because you are loose cannons. I have plans of my own, and I do not want my agents stumbling over the trailing ends of your confidence plans.

"But the main reason is because you represent one of the things that I absolutely hate about Celestia's little world more than anything...."

"Wasted potential."

They stopped and looked up at me, puzzled. "Your kingdom--- your entire world, really, but your kingdom of Equestria especially--- lags. Despite having everything going for you--- wealth, resources, security, perfect weather and even flipping MAGIC--- you have slogged along for over a thousand years with almost no progress in any meaningful way. Despite having the occasional technological trinket, you're mostly still stuck at a technological level that my world reached and passed like it was standing still over a hundred and fifty years ago. In fact its those stupid little one-off trinkets here and there that make it worse. That just shows you KNOW what you could do if you applied yourselves. You ponies should be building skyscrapers on the MOON by now, but instead you doddle about as if it were still the eighteenth century."

What they said next surprised me. "You think you're telling us anything new?" Flim snorted. "We LIVE this nonsense. Our entire lives my brother and I have watched brilliant achievements appear on the horizon, only to vanish without a trace within the year as if they had never been. And ever since we got our Cutie Marks, we've been on the road, stumping for our creations. We TRIED the whole "change the world" approach--- but the world doesn't want to be changed. "

"Why do you think we live like this?" Flam agreed. "We know we could revolutionize Equestria with our inventions. But nopony wants to use them. In Equestria, if you can't get the patronage of one of the royal houses, nopony else is interested." Flam's face soured. "Did you know we ponies have re-invented the heavier-than-air flying machine five times over the past three hundred years? But within a decade it's discarded again like a cheap foal's toy."

"Even bad inventors want to change the world, my good mister Vulcan," Flam said. "But in Equestria we're not innovators, we're... novelty shop salesponies. A traveling potion and gadget show. So why NOT sell them junk, if that's how they're going to treat everything we invent?"

"The average pony acts as if living in the past is the key to an eternal golden age." Flim sneered. "Why should we waste our best efforts on ponies who think that Status Quo is God?"

I pondered that, brooding as the picture unfolded. I had a good idea of just WHY Equestria was so resistant to change: Peer pressure. Celestia and her sister were thousands of years old. They had kept their hoof at the helm of their society's cultural development every step of the way. Heck, they were the living iconic symbol of their society's ideal. They set the trend in everything--- culture, philosophy, manners, standards of physical beauty. And immortal or not, under those ageless bodies they were... well.... OLD. The kind of old people that hated anything new and spent all their time lamenting about the good old days when everything was steam powered and toilet paper was still a novelty.

And at the same time, they were "the popular kids." The ones every other pony adored and revered and tried to emulate. Maybe it was the pony herd instinct thing. Maybe it was the fact that they were pretty much the center of the pony universe. But if Celestia and Luna weren't interested in something, it wasn't going to catch on.   And, if the popular kids weren't interested in it, ain't nopony was interested in it. They didn't even have to be openly hostile to a new innovation they didn't like; they just had to yawn in the inventor's face and wander off to graze, and the rest would follow them. The whole damn race was stuck in a gigantic popularity clique, with their immortal nigh-goddesses as the prom king and queen and everyone else afraid to dress, talk, walk, act, look or even think too differently without their benevolent approval.

My proof? Oh, a couple of thousand years of uninterrupted monarchy would do. Any other civilization would have changed things up-- tried democracy or something, once in a while. Even the kings of England eventually got the Magna Carta. But these guys were more unchanging than the feudal caste system of ancient China. In fact ancient China was a pretty good parallel; those guys had gunpowder, seismic detectors, mechanical automatons and military rocket weapons before Columbus had set sail, yet they were still in the dark ages by the time the British Empire moved in on them. In a caste system, technology and invention become nothing but a vaudeville sideshow. It would take a massive social upheaval to goose the engine of progress into moving again.

Well call me Admiral Perry, then.(2)

I started to chuckle.  They regarded me apprehensively. "You want to change the world, do you?" I said. "I think we can manage that much."

Flim and Flam finished stacking their precious papers together.  "At this point we'll settle for just getting rich," Flam said uncertainly.

"Or at least moderately well heeled," Flim interjected.

I ignored the witty remarks and leaned in. "you two have potential," I said. "That is why you are here. Despite how badly you two have conducted your little enterprise so far, I have taken careful note of your... talents." Their ears pricked, genuinely curious.

"The first is this; you know what ponies want. You actually know your market, and manage to produce a pitch that has ponies clamoring to give you money. What's more, you do it to ponies who already know you. You hit Ponyville twice, selling them cider products both times. You didn't just sell snow cones to a polar bear, you talked him into coming back twice. Among bunko artists and con men, that is talent."

Flam puckered up like he tasted something sour. "You flatter us."

"Knowing what ponies want, selling it to them, being able to win back their trust even when they should be riding you out of town on a rail... those talents are useful to me. You are well traveled, which means you can finagle your way into any community. And your inventive genius may be unappreciated by the dull-witted castes who rule this benighted kingdom, but they are quite obvious-- and appealing-- to me." I paused meaningfully.

"This is my offer to you. You will come work for me. You will go where I say. You will sell what I tell you to sell. You will buy, sell and trade on my behalf, and you will do it under the supervision of whomever I send with you. You will continue to invent--- but you will make your inventions for ME, at MY request, to meet MY demands. And they will work as advertised, oh yes. Or else."

They both swallowed noisily. "And... what's in it for us?" Flam challenged.

By way of answer I bent down and scooped up a fistful of treasure. I stood and let the coins and jewels trickle through my fingers. Their eyes gleamed and I could practically see them drool as the coins chimed and tinkled on the ground. "A nearly bottomless expense account," I said unnecessarily. "Those workshops you saw? They will be yours to command, and yours to staff. You will be permitted to pursue whatever research and development you desire, without limit--save that I supervise it. And needless to say, you will live... quite comfortably, while you do so.

"I have plans. Very specific plans. Those plans are going to turn Equestrian society completely upside down. And when they are completed, you will be flush with money, in possession of countless inventions of your own make, and in prime position to take advantage of the social upheaval that will follow in my wake. If you work with me, you will be able to market your Flim Flam inventions to the farthest corner of Equestria, and you will go down in history as the greatest geniuses of your age."

"After working with you?" Flim said, dubious.

I leaned in till my eye-glow illuminated his face. "Remind me to tell you a story sometime," I said. "It's about german scientists, a world war, and something called Operation Paperclip." I turned back and forth between them. "So, Flim Flam brothers... what's it going to be?"

"And if we decide no?"

I turned my back on them and mounted back up into my throne. "Then we dump you back out on the road where we found you, and take bets on whether you can outrun the angry mob that was in pursuit of you." Really. Marketing a do-it-yourself hair-cutting and styling machine? Clever. Letting the local constable be the first to try it out? Not so clever. "Permanently Bald" is not a well-liked hairstyle.

The two brothers shared a long look, then turned to me. "So," they said blithely. "Where do we move in?"

Celestia wandered the halls of Canterlot, fuming to herself. Normally she enjoyed the winter season, but the soft flurries of snow at every window were doing little to cheer her. It seemed that having the, er, rump of one's castle sitting in a lake tended to make keeping the rest of it dry and warm more of a challenge.

The normal winding-down of this time of the year had been nowhere in evidence, either... usually, even the plotting and scheming of the political set took a back seat to cuddling by the fire with a mug of hot cocoa. But every time she turned around there was a new political calamity unfolding. The recent spectacle with that one old unicorn farmer and his rather theatrical final deposit to the Equestrian Revenue Service-- in the form of literally dumping his farm, land and all, on the throne--- had unveiled a horrifying mares' nest of corruption, legal negligence and terrible legislation in the Equestrian tax system. While a product of negligence rather than malevolence, it was still monstrous. Celestia and Luna's staff of advisors had been busy day and night untangling the mess, with the royal sisters having to uproot law after law-- only to find further snarls of red tape and tax code underneath. Celestia had been horrified. Centuries of neglect, untold generations of ponies who had been casually and mistakenly bilked by their own governments... it was going to take years, if not decades, to sort it all out. Federal, local, regional, village tax and asset laws.... It was starting to almost look like it would be easier just to declare the whole Equestrian tax code null and void and start over from scratch.

What the hell had happened to her nation? She could still remember when most of the citizens paid their annual taxes with a couple of bushels of potatoes. What had been wrong with that? Once a year, boom, potatoes, done.... or, of course, apples. Or corn. Corn was good... ah yes, that was it, now she remembered. Some of the barons had started arguing whether a bushel of corn should be on or off the cob, and that had been it. First a law on that, then a law stating all carrots had to have their greens chopped before counting, and the legislative arms race was underway. Next thing you knew, they had 400 laws governing the sale and taxation of cabbages.

To top it all off, the poor aggrieved pony who had started the whole landslide was nowhere to be found. They had found nothing but an empty crater where his homestead had once been, but no word of where he himself had gone. His nearest neighbors refused to even guess. They informed the investigating guards that the pony-- Heart Root was his name-- had been rather bitterly anti-Royalist for many years. Not surprising, all considered. More mysteriously, the remains of his house and farm had disappeared from the landfill where Celestia had teleported them...

Celestia had a faint, but growing conviction that their latest nemesis must had one five-fingered hand in all of it.

As luck would have it, she found herself passing her sister in the hallway just as these dark thoughts crossed her mind. Luna was trotting along, flipping through some royal documents and humming some oddly catchy tune to herself.

"Hmmm hmm hmm op-por-tu-nitee

In this hmm com-mu-nitee...

Hmm hmm hmm something hmmm...."

"Hello, sister!" Celestia said.

Luna started; for a brief moment Celestia caught a glimpse of annoyance on her face. Then she smoothed it over and the moment was gone. "Well met, sister," she said. "How fares the day?"

Celestia rolled her eyes. "Same as it has been since our mutual annoyance arrived in Equestria," she said dryly.

To her surprise Luna made a moue of disagreement. "Strewth, sister, for all his alarum, he has been rather quiet of these past few months. Methinks thou dost attribute a bit too much of this season's vexations to his influence."

Celestia huffed.  "Really, little sister? Unrest in the hills, reports of bandit raids on the upsurge, escapes from Tartarus?" She chuckled humorlessly. "You don't really imagine it's a coincidence that this all started with this human creature's arrival?" Her tone was chiding.

Luna huffed herself, frowning. "Methinks 'tis too easy to blame all our troubles on the latest villain," she said, needled. "Were not these troubles with the exchequer's office decades or more in the making?"

Celestia waved her hoof dismissively. Having spoken her thoughts out loud, now she was certain of it. "Ponies don't generally chuck houses at the throne to protest their tax problems, Lulu," she said. "No.... Darth Vulcan is... provoking this from the shadows, somehow."

Luna's barely muttered "Perhaps just by example" escaped her notice.

"Which brings to mind," Celestia said. She stepped closer, lowering her voice a bit. "Is there any news from your... informant?"

Luna sighed and shook her head. "Nothing of true use, sister," she said. "As I have told thee, I must needs contact him through many layers of defenses as it is. And my gift for piercing the veil Darth Vulcan hath laid about himself and his underlings waxes and wanes with the moon. I have netted but little bits and oddments from my agent of late." Besides which, I have been busy..." unraveling the mare's nest of your tax codes, she added silently, annoyed.

Celestia sighed, pursing her lips. "Vexing. But... nothing at all?"

Luna sighed as well. "An... impression that Darth Vulcan hath... recruited new allies to his side." She shook her head.

"Not good. Who?"

Luna shook her head again. "Too vague to tell. Just a strange impression of... straw hats. and bow ties. And a fervent wish that somepony would just stop singing...."

1)Think somewhere between Oliver Twist and My Fair Lady.

2)He's thinking of Commodore Matthew Perry, who opened trade to Japan, not China. But Ted didn't exactly ace world history class.