"Now what do we have here? I've been told you wish to divulge information of the utmost importance."

It wasn’t too hard to convince Yatima to remain in Santa Mara with little Baraka―which was what she had chosen to name her colt. Not only was moving about much still very unwise for the new mother, but our little tussle with the Lancers seemed to have rather firmly cemented in her mind exactly how dangerous the Wasteland could be for even the most experienced and adventurous ponies. Neither attribute being a fair word that anypony could use to describe the zebra mare.

We set her up as best we could in the tiny little settlement. It had not ever been intended to serve as anything more than a waystation, and even then it was a fairly new one―only five years had passed since its founding. There was a well, a couple of stalls that offered prepared meals of dubious quality, and an ‘inn’ only in the loosest sense of the term. We managed to find her a ‘room’ with a bed and worked out a deal with one of the ponies who actually lived there to come by and keep an eye on her from time to time for a modest―exorbitant really―fee. The money I had no issue spending, since I found myself with a good bit of it at the moment and nothing worthwhile to spend it on. I just wasn’t entirely comfortable trusting the zebra and her colt to the care of complete strangers.

Fortunately, thanks to Homily’s broadcasts, I was becoming a pony of note in the wider Wasteland. Nopony was throwing themselves at my hooves in exultation or laying flower petals in my path; but they seemed to take me seriously when I promised to be back in a week to make sure things were still on the up-and-up―and the suggestion there might be ‘reprisals’ if they weren’t. Pawning off those four sets of bloody Lancer barding to help offset the cost had probably gone a long way to giving those threats credibility.

We made one contrition of course: we promised to tell the father of Yatima’s foal where she and his newborn colt were. What neither Foxglove and I were prepared for was the shock at learning exactly who that father was.

“He is an officer in the Republic guard,” that much we knew from Foxglove’s chats with the zebra mare during the trip, “his name is Ramparts. He has a―”

“―Brown coat,” I finished, my own eyes widening in surprise, “sandy colored mane? Green eyes? Lieutenant?”

“Um...yes, actually,” the zebra mare confirmed, caught off guard by my ability to describe her colt’s father in such detail, “you know him?”

I exchanged a brief glance with Foxglove, “we’ve met, yes.”

“Briefly,” the violet unicorn confirmed even as she frowned.

“That is good news!” Yatima smiled, “you should have no trouble finding him then!”

“Turns out,” I nodded, smiling at the striped mare. It could have been mistaken for a pleasant smile, I suppose; but such a description would not have accurately described how I was feeling at the moment. Given the circumstances surrounding my first brief encounter with the Republic officer, knowing that he was the very pony that we had to meet up with wasn’t doing a whole lot to enthuse me about our return to Seaddle.

The stallion had been gracious enough to omit encountering us from any report that he might have made to his superiors in light of Jackboot’s and my help fending off a Steel Ranger attack at my family home―or so he had assured us. That being said, he had made it clear that both Jackboot and Foxglove were ponies-non-grata where the Republic capital was concerned. Indeed, he had revealed that Foxglove was marked as a wanted criminal within the city for having aided in the escape of a known White Hoof from custody.

She would probably not be his favorite pony; though I’m sure the unicorn mare would earn some points with him once it was revealed that she had been on hoof to help deliver his colt and get his mare-friend safely to Santa Mara. Maybe he’d be willing to ‘forget’ that he’d seen her a second time.

That would be a hurdle that we’d have to overcome when we came to it though.

Topped off on water, food, healing potions, and a half dozen bottles of Wild Pegasus―one of which was emptied before we made it out of town―we were ready to make the rest of our trip to Seaddle by the next morning.

Our pace improved dramatically now that we were divested of the formerly pregnant zebra. It took us only three more days to reach the capital of the New Lunar Republic in the later morning hours. The guards on duty at the main gate leading into the city at the heart of the ancient Old World ruins didn’t give us much trouble. There was a brief bit of surprise and suspicion regarding Arginine, mostly resulting from his brutish size I suspect. He was without weapons though, so I guess that must have made them feel a little better about it.

They didn’t even seem to take any particular interest in Foxglove. Which both surprised and relieved me. I had expected that I would need to do a lot of fast-talking―and maybe a little hoof-greasing―to get the mare through the gate. Granted, judging by the myriad of flyers and pamphlets I noticed hanging in the guard shack detailing known or suspected ponies of interest, they would have been hard-pressed to keep up with every wanted criminal who passed them by. I didn’t even actually notice one detailing my traveling companion. Either that Republic officer had gone an extra step on our behalf and fudged her description in his report, or the months since our departure had been long enough for the guard to lose interest in apprehending her.

I did approach one of them though in the hopes of getting a lead on where I might find Ramparts. Once we got our promise to alert him out of the way, I could focus on petitioning Princess Luna for aid.

“I don’t know any Lieutenant Ramparts,” the first guard admitted, looking to his companion for confirmation and getting a shake of the head from them as well, “is he on the perimeter detail?”

“Um...I don’t actually know,” the organizational paradigm of the Republic’s military was not a topic that I was well versed in, “I’ve seen him out in the Wasteland with a squad of soldiers though,” I offered helpfully.

The two exchanged glances and frowned at one another. Then the first guard looked back at me and gestured to his barding, “was he wearing barding like this?”

I shook my head, “no, it was different. It had black instead of silver.”

“Ah, he’s not a regular guard then,” the pony informed me, “he’s a Courser,” at my quirked brow, he explained, “they’re soldiers that do special missions for the Princess. I don’t know where you’ll be able to find him exactly, but there should be somepony at the Southern Barracks who’ll know how to reach him. That’s where the Coursers bunk down when they’re in town.”

That wasn’t very far from the palace itself, which was where we were going to need to go in order to petition the Princess for the Republic’s help. I was glad to learn that doing Yatima her favor wasn’t going to delay us much at all.

It was a little strange being back here without Jackboot. He was the one who’d brought me to my first really big city. Heck, I hadn’t even ever left the farm before meeting him. Whenever we were here, Jackboot was the one who called the shots and set our schedule so that we could get our business taken care of before heading back out. Now, I guess, that duty had fallen on my withers.

I soon noticed an interesting contrast between the ponies of the small village of Shady Saddles and the packed masses of the Republic capital: their reaction to Arginine. While the massive pony had turned a lot of heads and prompted quite a few whispers among the ponies we’d walked by in the more sparsely populated town; here, only a few ponies even so much as looked up from whatever they were doing to notice that he was around.

As big and imposing as the stallion was, and in spite of his odd double horn, he really wasn’t that unique of a sight where this bustling city was concerned, I suppose. While not common certainly, there were times when other rare sights could be seen here: minotaurs, zebras, sane ghouls. Most of the local population was largely desensitized to the sights of the obscure. That wasn’t to say that the residents weren’t inclined to give the stallion a wide berth as the three of us made our way deeper into the city.

Luna’s Palace.

Once upon a time in an era before the world had been reduced to so much ash and cinder, the building had been a concert hall. The Stable Ponies that emerged and made the center of the ruined remains of Seaddle their new home had immediately seized the giant building for use as the seat of their government, capitalizing on the ease with which it could be used to house a large population for town hall meetings and hosting important deliberations.

Luna had conscripted it for use as her private residence upon her unexpected return. The ponies that served as delegates in parliament now met to hash out future policies and laws in an old schoolhouse. Only the Princess, her Prime Minister, Ebony Song, a few aides, and the Princess’ Own Guard remained within the palace now.

Before heading into the palace proper, we did swing by the barracks that the guard at the gate had mentioned. Unfortunately, this was where we ended up hitting our first snag. They knew who Ramparts was at least, and while they insisted that they couldn’t tell us either where he was, what he was doing, or when he could be expected back; they informed us that he wasn’t in Seaddle at all, but that they’d gladly pass on our message. It wasn’t exactly what I’d promised the zebra mare we’d do, but it looked like it was the closest that I was going to get, and I didn’t have the time to waste hanging around Seaddle waiting for the stallion to eventually show back up.

So we now turned our attention to getting an audience with Princess Luna.

I didn’t expect that was going to be very easy. She was the princess, after all, and a very busy pony. It wasn’t like she was the sort to just drop everything that she was doing and talk with a bunch of random ponies that showed up to where she lived. However, I did know that ponies could get brief appointments with her. All they had to do was ask to be put on the waiting list and they’d be seen during one of her daily afternoon Petition Hearings. Maybe we wouldn’t get into today’s―it was almost time for this afternoon’s session to start and I was under the impression that slots filled up fast. But, I was confident that if we got our names put on the waiting list now, we could easily get in tomorrow.

One more night wouldn’t hurt anything.

A pair of soldiers who were quite obviously part of the Princess’ Own guard detail stood guard at the front door. Their barding wasn’t the same leather and ceramic plate combination that most of the regular guards in the Republic wore. The barding of these ponies was composed of pieces of thick steel, with dual layers of kevlar and even actual chainmail protecting their joints. They were also some of the largest stallions that I’d seen―excluding Arginine of course―and I found myself wondering if their size hadn’t been a contributing factor in their selection for the detail. Their armament was equally as intimidating, each of the two guard wearing a battle saddle that had a minigun hanging off of one side, and the large steel case for the ammunition that fed the ravenous weapon on the other.

We were asked to leave our weapons at the door, and I wasn’t very inclined to argue with the pair.

Inside the lobby of the opera-house-turned-palace there was a short line of ponies waiting patiently to be seen by a unicorn mare dressed in a very neat and clean midnight blue business suit. The next pony in line would simply walk up, say something to the mare, and then she would reply and hastily scribble something into a ledger before smiling back at them and passing over a little ticket of paper. The whole process took just a little over a minute. Even with a dozen other ponies in front of us, it wasn’t long at all before we were at the front of the line and called up to the desk by the unicorn receptionist.

“Purpose of visit?” the older mare asked politely enough, though her eyes indicated that she was a little bit put off by our attire. In her defense, we certainly weren’t dressed at all like most of the other ponies that had come before us, nor any that had filed in to stand in line behind us. I suspected that Seaddle denizens made up the vast majority of visitors here, and not Wasteland adventurers. Granted, even by the standard of the types of ponies that spent a lot of time outside the city’s walls I hardly looked typical in my brilliant blue and gold outfit.

Maybe I should really consider getting some more subdued barding while I was here. I enjoyed looking like a Wonderbolt, and the recognition I gotten from Sandy back in Shady Saddles had felt really nice, but the flashy barding really wasn’t very practical. Or subtle.

“We’d like to see the Princess,” I said after clearing my throat, “she’s still doing that thing where she’s sees ponies in the afternoons, right?”

The unicorn’s expression was polite and professional, despite the faintly audible resigned sigh in her voice, “Her Royal Majesty does hold Court to hear petitions from the public three times a week, yes,” she confirmed. She glanced briefly at her ledger, made a note with a stylus and then passed us a small scrap of yellow paper, “here is your admittance ticket. Please return on August twelfth to have your case heard by the Princess,’ she smiled once more and nodded her head before looking past us to the next pony in line, “next!”

Huh, that actually went pretty smoothly, I thought to myself as we started heading for the exit. I brought up my pipbuck to check the date. It was the tenth now, so two days wasn’t really all that bad, I supposed. Considering the number of ponies that I’d seen passing through here in just the brief twenty minutes that we’d been waiting to get our names on the list, I should count myself lucky that we were able to get seen so qui―

My eyes nearly bugged out of my head as I read the rest of the date on the Old World device. That couldn’t be right, could it? I glanced at Arginine, “uh, RG? What month does your pipbuck say it is?”

The gray stallion glanced briefly at his own pipbuck, “May.”

“Three months?!” I hadn’t meant to yell, but the revelation had taken me by considerable surprise and I wheeled back around to stare wide-eyed at the receptionist who was already returning an annoyed frown at the disturbance that I was making. A few of the other ponies waiting weren’t looking very pleased at my having interrupted the otherwise smoothly running process either, “we have to wait three months? I can’t wait three months!”

The unicorn behind the desk took a deep breath, appearing to be rather experienced at dealing with upset citizens. I imagined that an outraged pony or two had to be a daily occurrence is they were told they had to wait months before their problems could be heard, “Her Royal Majesty is very busy with matters of state,” she replied in a tone that didn’t quite make it sound like she was reciting a well-rehearsed speech, “which consumes most of her valuable time. However, out of love and respect for her loyal subjects of the New Lunar Republic, she insists on holding Court as often as those pressing matters of state permit. Though she wishes fervently that she could see everypony and give them the aid and counsel they desire immediately, the reality is that she is but a single princess, and there are thousands of subjects seeking her guidance.

“Rest assured, though the wait may be longer than you had hoped, Her Royal Majesty will address whatever issues you have upon hearing them and resolve the matter fairly. The wait will be worth it.”

I wasn’t sure who came up with that little monologue of hers, but had the reason for my visit been even the slightest bit less urgent than the impending slaughter of everypony in the Neighvada Valley, I would almost certainly have been properly cowed by that explanation. However, the circumstances being what they were, her very cogent and well-argued reason for the wait was nevertheless unacceptable, “you don’t understand,” I said, trying to make myself sound not as much like a raving lunatic as I might have come off as, “there is an army of very power Stable Ponies who are planning to wipe us all out! I know where to find them, but I need the Republic’s help to do it!”

“Ma’am,” the receptionist repeated, now starting to sound and look much more annoyed with my refusal to relent and simply leave like I was supposed to, “I understand your concerns, but no exceptions to this policy can or will be made for any reason. I assure you that Her Royal Majesty is aware of the dangers and is already working to address them. The Republic is prepared to meet every threat and defend the Princess’ loyal subjects.”

“She can’t know about this, because we’re the only ones that do!” I insisted, motioning to the three of us, “please, there has to be somepony we can talk to!”

The unicorn took another deep breath, frowning, “I can schedule an appointment with Prime Minister Ebony Song, if that will suffice,” I let out a relieved breath. That would work, “he’s free in late July,” or not, “shall I pencil you in?”

“You have got to be joking!” I groaned, “there’s gotta be something you can do,” I insisted, not quite pleading with the mare, “I need to see him sometime this week!”

She shook her head, “that is simply not possible. The Prime Minister is in negotiations with Three-Some Caravans for the next several days. These talks cannot be interrupted and for that matter neither can any of the Prime Minister’s other appointments. So, Ma’am, if you will kindly―”

“Wait,” my ears perked up, “which caravans?”

The unicorn frowned, “Three-Some. As you can imagine, the matters that they and Her Royal majesty’s government are discussing are of the utmost impor―”

“Thanks, bye!”

Finally, some light at the end of the tunnel! As I left a rather confused receptions in my wake and collected my weapons from the guards outside, I was finally starting to feel positive about our efforts again. It had been disappointing enough to learn that things weren’t weren’t going to be as straightforward as I had originally anticipated, but I suppose that was what happened when you didn’t fully understand the scope of what you were getting involved with.

In the back of my mind, I realized that it was pretty silly of me to think that I’d simply be able to waltz into Seaddle and ask to see Princess Luna face-to-face and then get that meeting immediately. If the casino bosses in New Reino worked through third parties and intermediaries all the time, then surely the most powerful pony in the whole Valley would too! I just hadn’t expected that the wait would have been so damn long. What, did everypony in the whole Republic have problems that only Princess luna could possibly solve? That was ridiculous.

Fortunately, it looked like I was going to be able to cut to the front of the line―after a fashion. It just so happened, that recent events had provided me with a rather highly placed contact within Three-Some Caravans who owed me a favor. Hopefully I wouldn’t be overreaching by asking for what I had in mind.

It only took a little asking around to find out where the Galician residence was. No surprise that it was on the wealthier side of town, as they did run one of the biggest trading companies in the valley. In fact, it was one of the few purpose built homes that existed in Seaddle, and not simply a refurbishing of one of the buildings that had survived the Great War. That said a lot of optimistic things about the amount of influence they might have in the Republic.

Hopefully, I thought as I looked between the other two ponies and myself, Summer Glade was actually here as well and recognized me. Given how we appeared to onlookers, it wouldn’t have surprised me terribly if we got told to go take a long one-way hike into the Wasteland if I asked to come inside without anypony here to vouch for me. I elected to disarmed and retired my submachine guns to my saddlebags to turn down the intimidation factor all the same. Foxglove’s own lance and rifle were already tucked out of the way across her back and Arginine didn’t have any weapons, so we were about as friendly-looking as we could manage.

I raised up my hoof and knocked on the door. A little less than a minute later, I heard a latch disengage and the solid wooden portal opened inward just enough to expose a burly looking blue unicorn stallion dressed in a suit jacket and tie. I noticed that there was a discretely holstered pistol strapped along his side though, covered enough by the jacket to not be blatantly obvious, but visible enough to let anypony with less-than-honorable intentions to know that any hostility could be answered in kind if need be.

His pale amethyst eyes narrowed slightly as he took in the three ponies that had arrived on the doorstep of the manor house, “...yes? Can I help you?”

I overlooked the tone that indicated he was prepared to seal the door and send us on our way the moment it became obvious we were here to waste his time and nodded, “My name is Windfall. Is Summer Glade here?”

“Do you have any business with Miss Glade?” it sounded very much as though the stallion was familiar with his mistress’ schedule, and he was setting me up to call me on my bullshit the moment I gave him cause. Which was fine, I didn’t need to smooth talk him or try to con my way in. All I had to do was tell the truth and just...be pleasant.

“Not really, no,” I said, shaking my head and smiling at the stallion, “I’m a friend. We met a couple weeks ago outside New Reino. Please, if you could just let her know that I’m here?”

“Hm,” the unicorn grunted, frowning slightly, “very well. You said your name was, ‘Windfall’, was it?”

“Yes―actually,” I corrected quickly, only just now realizing that my meeting with Summer Glade hadn’t been a very typical one and a few details might have been overlooked at the time, “um...could you tell her that the, uh, Wonderbolt is here, instead?” boy, that sounded cornier out loud. Judging from the raised eyebrow and deepened frown on the blue stallion, he was of a similar mind on that point.

“...right,” his violet eyes looked over my colorful barding. I got a sickening feeling in my gut that this might not go as smoothly as I hoped, as the stallion sighed heavily, glaring down at me “look, no reward was ever mentioned, so if you’re here looking for a payday―”

A mare’s voice from inside cut off the rest of what he was about to say as he took his gaze off of us and turned his head to regard the new arrival, “Sten? Who’s at the door?”

“Another batch of―”

My ears perked up in recognition of the mare’s voice, and before the stallion barring our way was able to finish his dismissal, I had hopped up into the air to be seen over his head and waved excitedly at the familiar orange unicorn mare, “Summer Glade! Hi, it’s me!”

The orange mare balked for a brief moment when she finally caught sight of me. Then recognition dawned across her features and her face broke out in a broad grin, “you’re the Wonderbolt! My goodness, I suppose who must have heard one of those broadcasts that nice Miss Neighvada was doing for me,” she trotted up and brushed aside the gruff unicorn stallion, “Sten, please go and tell Endo we have guests, will you? That’s a dear,” I watched the doorpony shoot me one more suspicious look before nodding towards his employer and disappearing deeper into the large mansion of a home, “don’t mind, Sten,” Summer Glade assured us, stepping aside and waving us in, “we’ve just gotten some...interesting visitors, let’s say, since those broadcasts started.

“Of course, nopony seems to have any idea of what you even look like in the slightest, so they’ve been pretty easy to spot,” she sighed and rolled her eyes, “oh! I know somepony else who’ll be delighted to so you too―oh, Dewdrop! Come say ‘hello’ to our special guests!”

I stepped in through the threshold, taking note of the contrast between the interior and exterior of Summer Glade’s home. Certainly when compared to the typical slapdash hovel that somepony might throw together in the Wasteland and call a ‘house’ the mansion I was in now stood in a category all its own. That being said, it still bore the scars inflicted by both the ancient war and the centuries that had passed since then. However, when compared to the interior...well, there really wasn’t a comparison I guess. Somepony had obvious found some plaster and half-decent paint―or at least improvised a substitute―and remodeled the interior to a point where I was willing to hazard a guess that this was what the house very well might have looked like when it was new.

Everything wasn’t quite perfect. The lighting had clearly been added later, salvaged from whatever had survived the war and powered by spark batteries with wires being carefully run along the walls and ceiling so as not to be too obvious. The furniture was in interesting collection of ancient pieces which had been restored using salvaged material and newly crafted items that had used broken up pieces of unrepairable furniture as their primary source of construction supplies.

All of that said, the place still looked very nice, and it did a proper job of letting anypony who was a guest here know just how affluent the residents were. I knew that I was certainly impressed!

My gaze was drawn by the movement of a little pony on the far side of the room. The little filly’s eyes lit up the moment they spied my brilliant blue barding, “Miss Wonderbolt!” the little pony’s hooves scattered on the matte marble floor as she proceeded to gallop directly for me, clearly intending to leap into my chest. It was an adorable gesture, and I smiled at the filly as I bent down and prepared to receive her.

Then, quite suddenly, the little earth pony’s eyes grew wide and filled with fright. She let loose an ear-splitting scream as her legs backpedaled madly in an attempt to abort her run. I noticed that her’s was not the only expression which had undergone a sudden shift in mood. Summer Glade had also visibly paled and she’d taken a number of steps back. Her lips were quivering as she began to sputter out the name of the unicorn guard that she had dismissed in progressively louder volumes.

I looked in the direction that both mother and daughter were staring and quite quickly realized what had set the two of them off: Arginine. These were the two ponies that had let me know that his stable was active in the area again, and had seen enough of what happened when they’d attacked the caravan they were a part of to confirm their identity. They recognized Arginine as looking exactly like one of the attackers that had slaughtered their husband and father, as well as the rest of the ponies working for them on the caravan that had been sacked.

“Whoa!” I immediately spoke up, leaping in front of the large gray unicorn and waving my hooves to get them looking back at me as I explained, “it’s okay! He’s safe!” My wings flipped out from my sides and I darted up to Arginine’s neck, tugging back the scarf that he wore and exposing the explosive collar concealed beneath it, He’s my prisoner, see? He won’t hurt anypony here, I promise!”

Summer Glade was holding her daughter close, and she was only just starting to compose herself again when another pair of ponies burst into the room. The unicorn guard was among them, a submachine gun of a much sleeker and more easily concealed design hovering in front of him and leveled at Arginine, Foxglove, and I. Beside him was was a golden earth pony stallion who was holding out a little snub-nosed revolver of his own.

“Whoa! Whoa!” things were quickly escalating out of hoof, and the continuous screeching from Dewdrop was helping to soothe these frayed nerves that everypony was feeling.

Unfortunately, it seemed that between the screaming filly, terrified looking mare, and the sight of untrusted armed ponies inside the manor, the unicorn guard was inclined to draw some understandable conclusions. He opened fired.

Horseapples!

He was barely twenty feet away, and as spacious as the room was, it was far too confined for me to effectively evade his gunfire. My barding wasn’t going to offer any sort of protection either. In short: I was dead.

At least, I should have been. Nopony was more surprised than I was that I wasn’t, I can assure you! There certainly wasn’t any way that he could have missed me. In all honesty, I suppose he hadn’t really. If those golden ripples were any indication, most of the unicorn’s automatic gunfire had been impressively on target despite the recoil of the lightly built weapon. The issue was that none of those lead slugs managed to make it all of the way to my flesh. Instead, they simply stopped rather abruptly a scant foot away from my chest and hovered there completely still.

The unicorn seemed to realize something was up and ceased firing. The altercation was enough to spur Summer Glade into action though, and she managed to interject before the bodyguard could devise some other method of neutralizing us that might have been more effective.

“Wait, stop!” the orange earth pony mare yelled, charging between us and the irate black unicorn, “that’s the mare that saved me and Dewdrop!” she wasn’t saying this to the guard. Instead, her attention was directed at the golden stallion with the revolver. I saw his eyes widen slightly, and then he nodded to the black unicorn, who―very reluctantly―lowered his weapon once more.

When it was clear that nopony was going to shoot at anypony else―for now―the bullets floating in front of me ceased their hovering and rained down to the floor with a melodic clinking. Curious, I looked around, and found that Arginine’s horn was only just now starting to lose its amber glow that heralded his use of magic. He’d interjected to save our lives.

Before I could remark on it, the golden stallion was addressing us, “is that true? You’re the ponies that rescued my niece and sister-in-law?” he’d holstered his revolver, though I noticed the guard next to him kept his own weapon trained on us despite the assurance that we weren’t a threat.

I floated down to the floor and nodded, “we are,” I extended a hoof towards the stallion, “Windfall. This is Foxglove,” I nodded towards the violet unicorn behind me, “and this is RG, he’s our prisoner and yes,” I confirmed with a look towards Summer Glade, “he is a member of the group that attacked your caravan. I tracked them down and killed them. Well...some of them. There are a lot more though, and I need help to finish them off.

“That’s why I’m here,” my gaze was on the golden stallion once more, since he was clearly the pony in charge, whoever he was, “I have to talk with Princess Luna so I get the Republic’s help dealing with them before it’s too late. They aren’t just going to stop at raiding caravans; they want to kill everypony in the Wasteland.”

The stallion’s eyes had widened again at this revelation, “well...and here I thought this was just going to be another boring day. Clearly there’s a lot for us to talk about. Sten, have refreshments brought to my office,” he said to the still obviously unhappy unicorn, “the rest of you, come with me.”

Getting Dewdrop calmed down again took the better part of an hour, and even when she stopped screaming, it was clear that she wasn’t going to ever really ‘relax’ again until Arginine was long gone. I made the suggestion that perhaps the little earth pony filly should leave the room while the rest of us talked things through, but she wouldn’t hear it. Instead the young pony attached herself to her mother as though her intent was to merge the two of them into a singular being and continually glared at the massive stallion standing apart from the rest of us.

Endo Galician, the brawny golden earth pony stallion with a titanium white mane that was slicked back into what looked like a shiny silver cap sat in the office’s largest and most comfortable chair. He was Summer Glade’s brother-in-law and―I learned―the current head of the Three-Way Caravan Company. The third of the set of triplet brothers who’d founded the sprawling merchant empire, Gordo, was currently ‘negotiating’ with the casino barons of New Reino. As I understood it, the key sticking point in those ‘talks’ was deciding which of the casino owners was going to be held personally responsible for their city’s guard forces trying to enslave the wife of their recently deceased brother if New Reino ever wanted to see another supply caravans ever again.

It seemed that while Three-Way wasn’t the only outfit that traded with the southern settlement, they had enough pull, and more than sufficient wealth, to essentially buy off all of the other major outfits in the valley and stage an effective boycott of New Reino. Sure, there were smaller, independent, traders who were now more keen than ever to trade with the casino barons since they could charge nearly ten times their usual prices, but the volume of supplies moving into the city was a shadow of what it took to keep the place afloat. It would be only a matter of weeks before the place was essentially strangled to death by the lack of provisions and merchant goods.

The casino barons were beside themselves with terror and outrage at one another for allowing themselves to have been put in a position like this; and they were very eager to make amends.

The preference had been for the leadership of the Lancers themselves to be brought in to account for the actions of their organization, but it seemed that the group had made itself scarce soon after learning what had transpired. That left the ponies who’d employed them holding the bag, and it didn’t sound like either of the remaining brothers were inclined to let the trespass slide unanswered. Somepony was going to be punished for what had been done to their family, and Endo didn’t seem too particular on the exact ‘who’ of the matter, so long as they were actually involved in some way.

I imagined that the deliberations between the casino barons as to who would ultimately be the one to have the blame laid at their hooves had become quite...lively.

Of course, the caravan owner also knew that it had not been the Lancers which had actually killed his brother and wiped out his wagon team. The frequent cold stares that the golden stallion flashed in the direction of Arginine suggested that he strongly desired to get some satisfaction out of him as well. For the moment though, he seemed content to let me keep custody of the unicorn.

“Words,” the well-muscled earth pony was saying, “can’t express what you’ve done for my family, Miss Windfall,” he nodded his head toward his niece and sister-in-law, “without your help, I might never have seen them again; and I would also never have learned what happened to Skinny and his team,” once more his hateful gaze flickered to Arginine before returning to me and softening once more, “I suspect you have some notion of what my family can do to repay you?”

I nodded, “I need to speak with Prime Minister Ebony Song,” I told the caravan boss, “that attack on your brother’s caravan was just a probe,” I jabbed a hoof at the large gray stallion, “his Stable plans to launch a full-scale invasion of the Wasteland, and they’re not looking to take prisoners. I know where they are, but I’ll need help―and a lot of it―if I’m going to stop them.

“I need the help of the Republic’s soldiers. If we move fast, we can catch them by surprise and defeat them before they’re ready,” from the corner of the room, I heard Arginine’s soft derisive snort. He clearly had some doubts about how effective ‘invalid’ forces would be against the might of his own kind. I was half-tempted to pointedly remind him what a pair of ‘inferior’ mares had managed to do to the ponies that had been charged with safeguarding his own little operation.

Endo nodded, “it will come as no surprise to you, I’m sure, that I have actually secured so time with the Prime Minister,” he looked at me while wearing a wry smirk and I shrugged, “perhaps I can convince him to set aside a few moments for you to make your case to him.

“I have heard that it can be quite a long wait for less well-connected ponies to get even a minute of the Honorable Ebony Song’s time.”

“Three months,” I grumbled.

“Well, in light of what my family owes you, I must say that this feels like rather trivial compensation,” Endo Galician sighed, “and yet you ask for nothing else?” he let the question hang, as though providing an opportunity for me to amend my list of demands.

I shrugged, “I mean, I guess a lot of ponies would have asked for a wagonload of bits or weapons or something like that,” to which the golden stallion nodded, clearly having expected just that sort of demand, “but, the truth is, that I wouldn’t have anything to spend that money on anyway,” that certainly earned me a few curious looks from Summer and her brother-in-law, “food, water, and healing potions aren’t super expensive,” I pointed out, “and those are the only real expenses we have, apart from ammo.

“Although,” I added after a brief moment’s thought, “if you know where I could get a crate of Wild Pegasus Special Reserve…?”

Endo chuckled, “I’m sure that something can be arranged,” he took a deep breath and sighed, “in any case, I insist that you stay here as my guests, and I implore you to abuse my hospitality as much as possible so that I don’t feel like I’m taking such advantage of your own kindness. Anything you want, ask my staff and they will provide it for you,” I looked to his bodyguard, Sten, who gave us a reluctant nod.

“Though…” the golden earth pony added, “you’ll forgive me if I do add a caveat of my own: your...prisoner will be quartered in the basement, under guard by members of my own personal security,” his cold gaze was leveled at Arginine, “I hope that is acceptable to you.”

Fair enough. It was pretty clear that the ponies in this house didn’t exactly feel a lot of warm and fuzzies where Arginine was concerned, and I could appreciate that. Besides, it would be a relief not to have to be the pony keeping an eye on him throughout the whole night. In fact, this was shaping up to be the first full night’s sleep I was going to have in...damn, I didn’t even know how long! Did I even know how to sleep without waking up every couple of hours?

“That’ll be fine,” I assured the stallion, “he won’t give you any trouble,” I looked back at the large gray stallion, “will you, RG?” I surreptitiously tapped my pipbuck. He snorted, glaring at me with his topaz eyes, but he didn’t say a word, “thought so.”

“So,” I was once more looking between the Galicians, “about that hospitality...when’s dinner?”

Arginine, not surprisingly, was not invited to dine with us. Endo had been inclined to get the rather intimidating stallion locked away out of sight as quickly as possible, and so he’d been shuffled off to the manor’s basement while Foxglove and I were shown to a lavishly furnished dining room. For all the spread had been presumably put together without a lot of notice, it was some of the most amazing food that I’d ever had in my life!

Jackboot had always made it a point to order up something fresh whenever we were in a town, even if doing so had been a bit more costly than chowing down on Cram or snack cakes. He mentioned a time or two how that sort of thing just hadn’t existed out east the same way it did in the valley. While you could get fresh food there, it was a luxury commodity with a price that made it little more than a dream for most ponies. While it wasn’t exactly dirt cheap everywhere in the valley either, a full meal of fruits and vegetables that were grown in this century wouldn’t break the bank either.

This was a whole different level though. What the Galician household served us wasn’t just fresh food, but dishes that had been cooked and prepared using things that were still a significant rarity: seasonings. It took a lot of effort a resources to grow even staple foods in the valley. Between fighting a lack of adequate rain, and a perpetual overcast, the quantity of arable land was scarce, and those scant few acres that would actually take seed couldn’t be haphazardly squandered on such trifles as ‘weeds’ whose only purpose was to add flavor to things that already tasted so much better than two century old alfalfa chips.

Of course, everything had a price in the Wasteland, and so there were farmers that were willing to grow things like sage and rosemary. What they charged for those herbs was tantamount to outright theft considering the little dried up sprig that you got for your sack of bits, and most of that was up front too. The last thing the farmer wanted was to have wasted their valuable land and time growing a weed that it turned out nopony wanted anyway; and, generally speaking, demand for seasonings outside the upper-crust was non-existent. The common pony had little interest, time, or inclination, to appreciate something as useless as basil to the point where they were willing to pay extra for it. I had been a part of the population that shared such a mindset.

After tonight though, I was of a mind to reevaluate my own stance on the matter. I’d always been a personal fan of radroach stew. It was something that always seemed to taste delicious, no matter who was making it. Today, however, was the first time that I had ever tasted it when it had been prepared using something called ‘bay leaves’. In hindsight, this had probably been a mistake. Having now experienced the culinary orgasm that was a stew made with those leaves, I knew that I would forever been left unsatisfied by any dish made without them.

And don’t get me started on pepper! Oh, sweet Celestia, why had nopony ever told me about pepper?!

In addition to the excellent food, there had also been some rather engrossing conversation too. Most of it had been Foxglove and me―mostly me―telling Dewdrop harrowing tales of our previous adventures in the Wasteland. The little filly seemed to have been particularly enthralled by the stories I told her of my early years at Jackboot’s side.

It was...nice, actually. Truth be told, I was entirely certain I was ready to tell those stories, given how recently the rust colored stallion had been taken from me. Certainly I didn’t talk about the day that he died―there was a lot about that day I was still wrestling with deep down. But those first few adventures: helping out Miss Vision, exploring the old stable crawling with ghoul ponies, those were memories that I was able to look back fondly on, and I enjoyed sharing those tales with the little filly. She seemed especially enamored with the fact that I hadn’t been that much older than she was now when I’d undertaken those adventures.

I noticed that I had Foxglove’s attention too. The violet unicorn had not been privy to many of the details about my early life with Jackboot. Not that I’d been keen to keep them a secret or anything. She’d never asked about that period of my life, and I hadn’t really felt that inclined to merely offer up those details unsolicited. Perhaps I should have.

I’d always known that Foxglove must have made some assumptions about my relationship with Jackboot that hadn’t painted the older stallion in a flattering light. Most of that had been because of her own personal experiences which she’d allowed to color her perceptions. I couldn’t honestly fault her for thinking along those lines, but that hadn’t stopped me from resenting her for thinking so little of the pony who’d raised me.

Now though, listening to what he and I had gone through before we’d crossed paths with the unicorn mare, it was clear that Foxglove was reevaluating some of those assumptions. Not all of them, I was sure. Given some of the things that she had told me regarding alleged personal interactions with the stallion, and what I’d seen of the two of them personally, I knew that she’d never look back on Jackboot ‘fondly’ the way that I did. However, I suspected that she was going to find it a lot easier to keep her promise to me about not talking down about him while I was in earshot.

That stallion that the violet unicorn had met? I’d never known him like that. I couldn’t say which of us had met the ‘real’ Jackboot, and I didn’t really care. Yeah, the two of us had hit a rough patch or two along the way, but when everything was said and done: I was the pony I was today because of him. He’d taken care of me, and I’d loved him. Telling other ponies about the amazing things that he and I had done together made me feel good.

It was nice seeing Dewdrop take a liking to the stallion through my stories as well.

After dinner and dessert, and a couple more stories about our exploits, it was time for a very excited Dewdrop to the ushered off to bed by a mother who looked to be both grateful to see her young daughter looking so relaxed and happy given what the little pony had gone through recently; and less than enthusiastic about the prospect of trying to get the excited foal calmed down enough to actually sleep in anything like a reasonable amount of time. Endo remained for a short while longer to once more express his gratitude and remind us about his desire for us to abuse his generosity so that he could sleep more easily as well knowing that his family’s debt had been amply repaid.

Foxglove was quite eager to avail herself to a genuine bed that promised to be far and above the quality that was typically found in the motels and inns we tended to stay at while we were out and about. There was also a mention of ample quantities of heated water for a bath, and that was the last I saw of the violet unicorn mare that evening. Frankly, I felt her notion was a good one, and I intended to follow her example, but only after I’d satisfied myself that Arginine wasn’t going to get into any mischief while I slept.

Sten, who had relaxed considerably throughout the course of the evening, escorted me down to where the large gray stallion was being quartered. That wasn’t to say that he’d become any more talkative. That just wasn’t the kind of pony he was, I guess. However, he was no longer as suspicious as he had been when we’d first arrived. He even issued a glib apology for nearly killing me earlier! Given the stoic disposition I’d seen him in during the evening, I got the sense that that had been just a step or a half below outright flirting where the grim unicorn was concerned.

The Galicians weren’t the sort to have a genuine ‘dungeon’ or anything like that to keep Arginine in. However, they were an affluent merchant family, so they did own quite a few expensive and exotic wares that were best left secured. It was in one of these pseudo vaults that they’d stashed the large gray stallion in for the evening. Its usual contents had been displaced so that he couldn’t get into mischief and a simple bedroll supplied for his comfort. The two ponies stationed outside his ‘cell’ to ensure he behaved himself, at Sten’s curt command, let me in to check on him. They even allowed the two of us a margin of privacy, which was rather considerate of them, I felt.

It was immediately clear that Arginine’s supper hadn’t been on parity with the one that Foxglove and I had enjoyed. I couldn’t tell what had been served initially, but what remained was a glass of water that was of questionable purity and half a can of Cram that probably had been opened a long time ago. What should have been a pinkish hued meat-based paste was a rather disquieting shade of green...and a little fuzzier than it should have been. I suppose that I shouldn’t have been surprised, given what his kind had done to their family.

At the moment, Arginine was lying on the ratty threadbare bedroll, looking up at me with the same dispassionate look he tended to favor everypony around him with. His face was set in stoic lines that suggested he was expecting some more not-quite-so-passive abuses this evening. He said nothing.

“I just wanted to thank you,” I said, quietly, “for earlier,” Arginine continued to glower at me without saying a word, “when you saved my life.”

Finally the stallion broke his silence, “I did not do it for your benefit. As you have reminded me, repeatedly: my continued existence is tied to your own,” he inclined his head towards my pipbuck even as he tapped a hoof against his collar.

“Right,” I cringed slightly, “still...I’m glad you didn’t just let us both die out of spite,” which he certainly could have.”

“‘Spite’ is pointless, and beneath my kind,” he scoffed, “only invalids would be capable of such a thing,” I noticed his eyes darting briefly to the meager ‘meal’ that had been provided for him, “that your mind works along such lines is only more proof of your inferiority, and how unfit your ilk is to continue existing.”

I wasn’t sure how much more flattery I could take, “I don’t suppose that you’ve considered that ponies might treat you better if you stopped talking about how much you want us all to die?”

“Is your insinuation that lies and deceit on my part will be rewarded?” he arched a brow as he watched me grimace, “should I consider what lies behind the mindset of somepony that would suggest such advice?”

“Your kind started this,” I shot back, “don’t talk to me like I’m the bad pony here! I could have killed you back in the house of horrors you called a ‘lab’ and put you out of all of our miseries.”

“In point of fact: you have the ability to end my life even now,” Arginine said coolly, holding my gaze with his amber eyes, “you do not, on the pretext that I can be plied for information useful to you.

“Yet I have noticed that you have never asked me to divulge anything of a tactical nature,” he let the observation hang in the air between us for a moment, “one has to question what your true motive is for keeping me alive.”

I blinked. He was right, of course: I never had asked him anything about the plans that his Stable had for the Wasteland; not in any detail, at any rate. Numbers, technology, plan of attack; I’d never even suggested I wanted any hints about those things. Honestly, I hadn’t been thinking quite that far ahead. What good did it do me to know exactly how many soldiers they had before I knew I had access to any real resources to fight them? Details were for later.

Besides, “and you expect me to believe that you’ll just give me that sort of information?”

“It is not in our nature to deceive.”

“Bullshit!” I snarled at the pony, “I saw the footage of what you did to Stable 137! You lied to them and made them trust you before you slaughtered all of them.”

“On the contrary,” Arginine responded matter-of-factly, not rising to meet my accusatory tone, “we were honest and direct with those ponies. We approached them and asked to trade for their medical records in order to aid in our research efforts. They gave the information to us freely, in exchange for pieces of our technology.”

“You slaughtered all of them!”

“Later,” the stallion nodded, his tone still calm and unperturbed, “but at no point did we make assurances of continued peaceful relations. Their inclination to trust us was their own mistake.”

“They thought you were good ponies. Their ‘mistake’ was thinking that you really were ‘better ponies’ and not just common raiders out to take what you wanted from them by force and killing anypony that wasn’t of use to you.

“‘Better ponies’,” I scoffed with a derisive snort, “I’ve got news for you: ponies like you are a bit a dozen in the Wasteland. There’s nothing special about you. You’re just raiders and murderers hiding behind some sort of ‘divine mission’ that’s one big excuse to justify your murdering. Well I’ve killed hundreds of ponies like you! Most of them are actually honest about what they are though. They don’t hide behind bullshit like you. They’re upfront about their murdering and why they do it.

“‘Not in our nature to deceive’, ha! You’re deceiving yourself if you actually believe the crap you’re spewing,” I glared at the stallion. Even though he was laying down, I found myself still having to crane my neck up slightly, so it was hard to look as intimidating as I would have preferred, but I did have the satisfaction of seeing some of that smugness ebb from those amber eyes of his.

“Enjoy your dinner. Try not to choke on your bullshit while you’re eating it,” and with that I turned and left, the guards securing the door behind me as I went back upstairs.

Endo Galician came with me to the meeting with the Prime Minister of course. As important as my own reasons might have been for talking with Prime Minister Ebony song, the owner of the valley’s premiere caravan company wasn’t going to simply give up his own precious time with the New Lunar Republic’s chief administrator. Frankly, I was glad to have the stallion with me, since I had basically no experience dealing civilly with ponies in power. Between Tommyknocker, Scratch, that demon pony queen thing, and Whiplash, I had been at least partially or totally responsible for the deaths of just about every important pony I’d ever met, now that I thought about it.

Probably best not to bring that up…

When I noticed that we were being led out into the main auditorium, which served as the site of the actual throne room for the Republic, I felt a rise of excitement at the notion that I may actually get the chance to meet Princess Luna herself! Unfortunately, it looked like she must not have been in attendance at the moment. Her throne was there, which I noted was much larger than would have been required for any normal sized pony, but it was vacant. However, there was a unicorn stallion sitting nearby in a chair that was much smaller, but nearly as grand looking. Though I had never met him personally, I did recognize the Prime Minister from a few posters around Seaddle that bore his likeness.

The dark pony noticed our approach and smiled, “Mister Galician! My aide passed on your message,” his expression faltered ever so slightly when he saw me as well, but his smile could have passed for welcoming to a pony with moderate vision problems. I wasn’t going to hold that against him just yet. I was essentially an uninvited guest who had just jumped the line, “this must be the, ah…Miss Windfall, was it?”

I confirmed the prime minister’s guess with a nod of my head, “yes, sir.”

Ebony song looked between Endo and myself, before clearing his throat and straightening himself up in the chair, “then I suppose that we may as well begin with your issue...madam.”

I probably should have worn something a little more proper for the setting than my Wonderbolt barding, I thought. Given that both Mister Galician and Ebony Song were dressed in neatly composed suits, my brilliant blue barding that was, admittedly, little more than a performance costume, did look very out of place. Not that I really owned anything else...I seriously needed to reevaluate my wardrobe. However, that was a consideration for later.

“It’s kind of related to what Mister Galician wants to talk to you about,” I began, “I know who’s been responsible for a lot of the attacks on caravans in the valley, and they’re not real raiders or the White hooves. It’s ponies from this Stable out in the mountains out west. They have this really twisted idea about rebuilding Equestria with only ponies from their Stable, and they’re planning to wipe out everypony else in the Wasteland to do it.”

Judging from his expression, I had clearly piqued the prime minister’s interest, but I could still spy a dubious glint in his eye, “that’s a rather unique claim,” he said carefully, “I don’t suppose that you have any proof of this?”

“I actually have one of the ponies from the Stable in my custody. He’s admitted to all of it.”

“I see. I would be very eager to speak with this pony and learn more about this threat. It does sound like a matter of genuine concern for Her Majesty’s Republic,” why did I sense that there was a ‘but’ coming after this? “But,” ah, that was why, “and as I have tried to explain to the good Mister Galician as well,” Ebony Song added, bowing slightly to the earth pony, “the Republic’s resources have been stretched to their breaking point by Her Majesty’s righteous struggles against the treasonous Steel Rangers that have threatened us for so long. It has taken the bulk of her loyal soldiers to keep those traitors at bay, leaving far too few of her forces to adequately protect her citizens.

“Princess Luna is very much aware of this, and the suffering of her subjects that results from these difficult choices pains Her Majesty greatly, let me assure you,” he shook his head sadly, “I would like nothing more than to send a force to deal with this threat you have told us about, and to assign a squad to every caravan to ensure their safety during their perilous journeys through Her Republic,” Ebony Song added with an apologetic look towards Endo, “but such deployments would leave the city vulnerable to an attack from the Rangers.”

“There’s gotta be something you can do? Come on! If we wait for these ponies to launch their invasion, then the Republic will be trapped between them and the Rangers! You can’t tell me that’ll be better somehow than doing something about them now!”

“Indeed,” Ebony Song conceded, “you are correct. Her Majesty’s Republic would be in dire straights in such an event, I don’t doubt it. However, you are asking for Her Majesty to ignore the enemy that is even now at the gates of her Republic to fight ponies whom, as you have said, are merely only preparing for an attack against us. Out of curiosity, do you know when they are planning to make their move?”

I did not, I was forced to admit. Even RG himself probably wouldn’t know the exact date that his Stable was going to launch their assault. He suggested that his Stable would be moving on the valley ‘soon’, but I couldn’t be certain of how much of that was just him posturing. There was the possibility that it could actually be years before his Stable made a move. They’d already been conducting their probes and abductions for who knew how long. I very much doubted that it would be years though. They had the forces available already to assault other Stables with, after all. How much longer could it reasonably be before they were confident that their own armies could deal with the remaining ‘invalids’ on the surface?

“Then I’m afraid that Her Majesty simply won’t be able to justify jeopardizing the safety of the ponies she is sworn to defend at this time.”

“Please! There has t―”

“Unless...” the Prime Minister interrupted, looking at me intently. He was silent for several long seconds, as though debating whether he should even continue with the alibi. Finally, he went on, “some time ago,” Ebony Song began, “an expedition to the north turned up a bunker built during the final years of the war. In this bunker they found a weapon prototype. They lacked the expertise to conduct a more thorough investigation and locate the main cache where the rest were located. A follow-up was planned, but...well, then the war with the Rangers broke out and the mission was scrubbed.

“The prototype was analyzed, however, and its power suggests that if the Republic were to come into possession of these weapons, that the war could be ended almost immediately. In fact, they should even be able to make short work of this Stable you’ve mentioned.”

I cringed slightly, “so...you want me to go out and find these weapons for you, and then you’ll be able to force the Rangers to stop the war with the Republic and fight Arginine’s stable?”

The stallion nodded, “exactly. You would be performing a vital service to Her Royal Highness, and ensuring the safety of Her Republic. You would be a hero.”

“I don’t care about that,” I insisted, shaking my head, “I just need you to promise that the Princess will stop that Stable from hurting anypony else.”

“Of course.”

“Then we have a deal,” I nodded towards the prime minister, “just tell me where I need to go.”

Ebony Song favored me with a broad smile, “Perfect…”

Footnote:...

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