27th January, 1882. Tarhen 1012 Local Time.

Princess Twilight Sparkle silently stands in her new room, staring at herself in the mirror that has been found for her. Her face is caked in dust and soot, her eyes are red and tiny tracks of silver mark where tears have traced their way down her face. Madam Locke would probably have a heart attack if she saw her right now.

Her dress is not in much better condition, Rarity's handiwork has been almost completely destroyed by the vicious gunfight that greeted her when she arrived in Tarhen. The hem is ripped, the light, airy violet fabric has almost been turned black by the dirt of Tarhen, and holes pepper it where the stock of her rifle had exploded in her hands. A strip has been torn out of it to use as a bandage, allowing an almost indecent amount of leg to show. The decorative stitching down the front has been completely wrecked, and the pearl-inlaid neckline has fallen apart. Twilight takes a deep breath, and then unbuttons the dress, letting it slide down to pool around her ankles, leaving the Princess almost naked save for her corset and knickers. Fortunately Twilight does not follow the current trend of allowing her undergarments to be constrictively tight, and thanks to her magic, she doesn't need the assistance of a dress-fitter or handmaiden.

The corset springs away from her to clatter to the floor and her knickers follow soon after, leaving Twilight standing naked in the room, absent of all the royal trappings and tokens that contrive to follow her everywhere she goes. Twilight stretches her wings silently to their full span, the long primaries stretching out as the wings extend to their full ten foot span. They are the only trappings of her station that she's pleased to have. All the authority, all the responsibility, Twilight wants nothing more than for it all to go away, to disappear, to fall upon the shoulders of someone who knows how to carry it.

Twilight's wings slowly furl back to her shoulders after a moment. Today has been dreadful, beyond dreadful. It has been nightmarish. The horrifying ride through Tarhen, desperate and afraid, expecting a bullet to find her at any moment. The feeling of being absolutely powerless as enemies chased her like a hunted animal. Now she's standing here, looking at herself in the mirror, at those cold hard lavender eyes that seem to belong to a stranger, at the strange scars that decorate her side and the gentle ache that pulses up and down her right arm serving as a vicious reminder of what happened, how close she came to death. Here, she's not an immensely powerful sorceress, a Princess or any of that rot. Here she can be a frightened twenty three year old woman, if only for a moment.

Outside her window, Twilight can hear the other Legionnaires unloading their supplies for the coming trip, the tramping of boots and the low hubbub of voices making her smile slightly. She can already hear Rainbow Dash's voice among them, calling for the twelve remaining members of the Ninth to fall in, and Twilight's heart swoops. She's not sure she can face Rainbow Dash right now. Dash has lost people today, thanks largely to Twilight’s own lack of judgement.

Twilight releases a bitter sigh. She knows she's going to have to talk to Dash about that at some point, that she's going to need to apologise, or at least do something to show that she hasn't forgotten, and she never will forget the sacrifice of the Legionnaires who fought for her today. Twilight kicks her dress away, forcing the bitter speculation to the back of her mind. She has things to do today, things that won't wait.

Twilight turns her back on the mirror and walks over to the trunk next to her bed in which she's packed her clothes. Twilight opens the trunk and the smells of Canterlot and of fine silks and cottons wash over her, however Twilight doesn't want to wear a dress right now. A dress speaks of weakness, of frailty, of girlhood. Likewise a dainty tiara speaks of a pretty little girl playing at princess, and that is not an image that Twilight wants to project right now. However all that's on offer are dresses of various sizes and shapes and styles in blues and violets and creams, and even a couple of lovely specimens in silver. Scarves by the dozen, and several dainty pairs of shoes. Each dress is laid out upon her bed, before being discarded as too girly or too showy or too frilly. Twilight had hoped to pack something a little more understated, her tutor's robes or something similar, yet evidently allowing Kibitz to pack her bags again was a mistake. Her Legion clothes, the webbing, boots and vest are likewise unsuitable, given the Khans would find such garb dangerously provocative, exposing her arms and shoulders as the singlet does.

Twilight's about to give up when she notices a series of wooden boxes among her belongings, the largest of which has a note attached: I hope you get use out of these things. Best wishes from Luna. Twilight turns the box over curiously, noticing that this box, and all the others are all coloured in the deep blue, black and silver colours of the Lunar Rifle Regiment, the battlefield arm of the Lunar Guard. Twilight pops the latches upon them, to reveal what appear to be a pair of trousers and a tunic, with the distinctive high collar edged with silver, though the coloration is simple slate grey rather than dark blue. Twilight sucks in a deep breath as she frees the last items, a grey cape, a purple sash and a pistol belt from the boxes, along with a pair of immaculate riding boots.

Twilight lifts the jacket to her eye-level, inspecting it for a moment. It looks businesslike, or rather more businesslike than all her other garments do. It also does an excellent job of covering her shoulders and arms where none of her other garments can without the addition of a shawl, although Twilight has a nasty feeling that she's going to end up sweating like a pig whilst wearing it. Twilight lowers the jacket and then reaches for the shirt and tie. This should look suitably professional, modest, and most critically, not weak.

Twilight quickly starts to dress, knowing that she'll need to go to the water butt in the hallway before she can do anything about her face, however she's just about managed to get the trousers on when the door to her chambers opens and she whirls to grab at a shirt, or something to cover up her torso. She grabs at her shirt, snatching it up with one hand.

“Hey, Twi, it's only me.” A familiar voice says, and Twilight looks up to see Rainbow Dash coming through the doorway, a slight lopsided smile on the Legionnaire's face. Dash is obviously halfway through her own preparations, judging by the way her hair clings limply to her scalp. Her face is scrubbed clean of the dirt, blood and soot, as are her hands. The Legionnaire is already dressed in the white dress trousers of her uniform, Klepi perched upon her head and rifle slung loosely over her shoulder. However she’s wearing her creamy coloured undershirt and suspenders over the top of it, along with a strange harness that Twilight can see is carrying several knives.

“Just thought I'd come in to check on ya.” Dash pauses for a moment, licking her lips and taking a deep breath before forging onwards. “Earlier today... that was one hell of a fight, you did good Twi,” Dash says, and Twilight notices the caporal's eye darting this way and that, her face somewhat flushed before she finally looks over at Twilight. Twilight turns and reaches for her blouse.

“I... I'm of two minds about that, Rainbow,” Twilight says as she makes to button her shirt up, but Rainbow closes the distance, placing her hand upon Twilight's as the Princess looks up into the lopsided face of the Legionnaire, that black leather eyepatch telling a dozen stories.
“What was that, your second time in a gunfight, Twilight?” Dash asks, and Twilight nods shakily.

“Yeah.”

“Well then, we don't expect you to be awesome, that would just be stupid. You're not a soldier Twi,” Dash says, obviously groping for the words as she reaches for a hair-brush. “Now eyes front for me, and I'll see if I can do something about this hair... I'm not Madam Locke, but I think I can sort something out,” Dash says as she starts to tug at the knotted and snarled mess that Twilight's hair has become. Twilight holds still to allow the Legionnaire to work, wincing as Dash tugs on a particularly insistent knot.

“But I got your soldiers-”

“Twi, we're Legionnaires. Our job is to fight for the Crown, dying comes with the job,” Dash says, her voice matter of fact. “Trust me, it wasn't your fault.” Dash's voice has a note of finality to it that makes Twilight blink, but before she can press the matter, Dash changes the subject.

“So where are we going?” Dash asks.

“To the prison,” Twilight replies. “We absolutely have to recover Diplomatic Incident from these beastly people.”

“Yeah, about that...” Dash says as she pulls the hairbrush through Twilight's hair. “It's quite clear that we're dealing with some serious opposition...”

“I noticed,” Twilight responds, her tone far more venomous than she intends, she can practically feel Dash flinching.

“What I meant was that we don't want you taking unnecessary risks right now,” Dash replies and Twilight frowns, but she nods faintly. Two of Dash's soldiers have already lost their lives on her account, she would not do well to get more of Dash's men killed because she feels like her presence at this function or that event is a necessity.

“I understand, but we need to free Diplomatic Incident.”

“We can do that with a proclamation from you, you don't need to physically go yourself.” Dash’s tone becomes more insistent.

“But if I'm there, I'll be able to clear up any confusion, they'll be more likely to talk to me,” Twilight says, equally insistently.

“Yeah, but they're also more likely to try and shoot you,” Dash retorts as her brushing hastens and her grip around the brush tightens.

“You don't know that!” Twilight feels her voice gaining yet more colour.

“I'm not prepared to take the risk!” Dash says, the hairbrush tugging viciously at a particularly truculent knot, and Twilight winces at the firmness in Dash's tone.

“What about Zsaryna?”

“What about her?”

“I said I'd go myself to aid Diplomatic Incident. If I don't then follow through, then how do you think she'll view that?” Twilight objects.

“Very dimly indeed.” A voice comes from the doorway and the hair brush clatters to the floor as Dash spins, and Twilight likewise whirls in shock at the intrusion, to see Zsaryna walking into the room, unconcerned by the half-nakedness of the Princess.

“You are having second thoughts about releasing Diplomatic Incident?” Her words are a hair's-breadth from being a direct accusation, and Twilight can practically feel Dash bristling behind her.

“Not second thoughts per se-”

“You are planning on delegating such a matter to an underling?” Zsaryna's tone is no less frosty. “Should you not be doing all in your power to secure the release of your operative?”

“Begging your pardon, Lady Ambassador, but she will secure little if she gets shot in another ambush,” Dash says, her tone just this side of courteous, and Twilight sees Zsaryna's eyes narrow very slightly, her mouth curling downward in an unpleasant grimace.

“Diplomatic Incident is your man, it's -your- fault that he's in this mess,” Zsaryna says flatly, and Twilight nods shortly, the note of accusation in the Val’s voice ringing like a bell.

“I am well aware of that fact Lady Ambassador,” she says, turning to Dash.

“Caporal, could you fetch me some water for my face?” she asks. Dash's expression could curdle milk, but she turns on her heel and stalks out, slamming the door behind her. Zsaryna tilts her head slightly.

“You do not trust your escort?” she asks, and Twilight shakes her head.

“More than anything, I'm just conscious of the fact that I do need to get changed before someone else upends a bucket of trouble on my desk and I'm not in a fit state to meet it.”

“You're counting on the support of my government for what you have in mind, yes?” Zsaryna asks. Twilight nods, but before she can say anything, the ambassador forges on. “Diplomatic Incident is my precondition for that support. He has done many things for the Western Union, and for your government. It speaks volumes that you even consider not going yourself, putting your own personal safety above the lives of your subjects-”

“Stop,” Twilight says, fury coursing through her veins. “I have heard your position on this matter, Lady Ambassador, and I will give you my answer. Diplomatic Incident is a valued asset to me, your cooperation is likewise important to my plans. Therefore I shall be liberating Diplomatic Incident from prison, myself if I must.” Twilight’s tone is firm as she wonders if she's doing the right thing. As much as Diplomatic Incident is a friend to her, Twilight cannot risk the lives of the Legionnaires under her command, or her own life.

Zsaryna nods quickly, a subtle grey colour reaching her cheeks, her gaze flickering downwards as the realization that she’s stepped over the boundaries plasters itself over her face. A long silence hangs over the two women for a moment, before the door bangs open and Dash stalks in, a porcelain bowl of water in her hands.

“Boss, your water’s here. I got you a sponge as well,” she says, her expression making it clear that she’s not at all happy, and Twilight snaps her fingers.

“Lady Ambassador, as you can see I am still in the process of getting dressed, if you would give me a moment to finish getting ready, and meet me on the landing fields in fifteen minutes. Bolt, how’re your men doing?”

“They are ready to go Ma'am, they’re waiting for you on the landing field,” she says, as Zsaryna bows her head, taking the hint. Twilight waits until the Val has left the room and closed the door behind her before she lets out a shivering breath, reaching for the sponge and starting to dab it at her own face, before Dash shakes her head. “Let me, Boss, or you’ll miss bits,” Dash says tenderly, and Twilight nods, surrendering the sponge to Dash, who starts to tenderly dab at Twilight’s face.

“Well, that went well,” Twilight sighs as Dash cleans her face off.

“She was a bitch,” Dash says sharply, her eye narrowing and her lip curling downward into a snarl. “You’re a princess, she’s just an ambassador and she needs to fuckin’ remember that or I swear I’ll ram her testicles down her throat.”

“She’s a female, I’m not sure she has-”

“It wouldn’t surprise me, you never can tell with Vals. Anyway, I’ll leave you to finish getting ready Boss, we’re not exactly pressed for time but sooner is better than later,” Dash says as she finishes sponging Twilight’s face, quickly turning on her heel, the back of her neck and her ears bright red as she heads out the door and in the direction of the Ninth Compagnie billet.

Twilight takes a deep breath before straightening her spine and pulling her shirt on, resisting the urge to lift her hand to her cheek and touch the spot where Dash’s hand had brushed her face. She shakes her head to clear it before hurriedly dressing in shirt, sash and gun belt. There is just time for a quick inspection in the mirror before she heads for the door and out toward the landing pad. Outside, Twilight can see Rainbow Dash beginning to form up her troops, now wearing her dress uniform jacket and valise.

“How're we moving, Caporal?” Twilight asks, and the Caporal turns, all crisp military efficiency and sharp precision.

“We're going to be travelling by air Ma'am,” Dash replies. “It'll be the quickest way of getting where we need to go with a minimum of fuss... Admiral Neydin has already requested permission for our air transport to have freedom of movement over Tarhen, which has been granted, so we'll be departing, and heading straight for the jail whenever you're ready to go Ma'am. We'll be accompanied on this occasion by Zsaryna Adrelana; if that pleases you Ma'am?”

“I have no problem with that, Caporal, I am ready to depart whenever you are, so let us make haste... What of Prophet?”

“He informed me that he will be meeting us later Ma'am, he said something about meeting with members of his Order to discuss developments. I'd imagine he's also reporting to the Shah.”

“Good,” Twilight replies, with surprising force. She hopes that the Shah does indeed know that she's coming, and more importantly, know that her arrival has been all but smooth. Whilst she should really meet with the Shah first, she wants to get Diplomatic Incident out of Khan control as quickly as possible, lest someone take their frustration at their scheme failing out on him. “Let's get moving then, whenever you're ready Caporal?”

“Yes Ma'am,” Dash says smartly, before turning to her men and dismissing them. The soldiers immediately dash to the skiff, climbing quickly aboard and swiftly taking up covering positions, save Dash, who falls in next to Twilight as the Princess walks up to the skiff.

“You brush up well Twi,” Dash mutters as they walk up to the skiff, and Twilight blushes slightly. This is not at all what she'd expected Rainbow Dash to say, and Twilight takes a deep breath.

“I'm sorry about-”

“Later,” Dash says firmly. “We're gonna need to make some changes, but let's get today out of the way first, yeah?”

Twilight nods hesitantly as Dash steps forward, climbing up into the skiff, and then offering her hand to Twilight, who gratefully takes it, clambering up into the airship and awkwardly taking a seat in the belly of the ship. Zsaryna then climbs in, ducking her head slightly before taking a seat, looking a little uncomfortable and muttering something under her breath, something that Twilight doesn't quite catch, however her grip on the gunwale is quite a bit tighter than Twilight would expect.

Twilight glances at Rainbow Dash as the one-eyed Legionnaire takes her place at the very prow of the ship.

“Check weapons, we're potentially going into a hot situation the moment we leave this compound, keep your heads on a swivel and those fingers on triggers.” Twilight reaches for her own sidearm as she hears the Legionnaires opening their rifles. She can already feel her heart pounding as the helmsman applies power to the throttle, pressing a button and unfolding the fan shaped solar sail with a snap, the whispering of the cells as the solar sail takes power turning her mouth dry. The shrill whine of the skiff's engine building thrust makes Twilight shiver, and then Twilight feels the familiar tug of gravity on her stomach as the skiff jerks upward into a hover, hovering five feet above the ground, and then it starts to rumble forwards across the landing area, picking up speed as the thrust builds up. The wind pulls at Twilight's hair and she momentarily reflects on the wisdom of her choice of attire, and then she feels the sudden inexorable tug of gravity as the nose of the skiff suddenly points skyward.

Twilight bites her lip. Whilst she's travelled by skiff before, it is not her preferred method of travel by a long shot. She always feels like she's a hair's breadth from being thrown out of the thing as it accelerates through the air. The matter is not helped by the fact that the helmsman has obviously been reading Captain Flash, judging by the way he hurls the skiff through the air in a series of blinding turns, each one more savage than the last, missing rooftops by inches. At times he even drops below the roof-line of the buildings to scream through the streets, leaving Twilight hanging on for dear life. The roar of the wind and the howl of the engines means she has to shout to make herself heard. Twilight glances around the skiff, noticing that the other Legionnaires are infuriatingly calm as they scan the streets below, and even Dash looks almost relaxed from her position at the bow.

Twilight glances out of the skiff, past the gunwale, to see that they are travelling over what appears to be a slum district, where the buildings appear to be made of crumbling adobe, where they huddle together in compounds for safety, past narrow twisting alleys and labyrinthine streets. Washing-lines are strung across compounds, and plumes of smoke from communal cooking fires drift upward. Twilight catches glimpses of Khans here and there, however they're moving so quickly that Twilight gets little more than a glance. Now and again, she notices one of the Legionnaires raising his rifle to the shoulder, only to lower it again after a moment. This worries Twilight more than she cares to admit, that there may be hostiles seeking to perform a repeat of this morning's performance.

“Bojemoi!” Twilight turns to see Zsaryna gripping the gunwale for dear life, all four eyes screwed tightly shut and her lips are moving in words that Twilight cannot quite catch. The Val's face is even paler than usual, and her fangs are exposed as she clutches the gunwale. Twilight wonders about air travel in Valorossiya for a second, and what it must be like if it inspires such a response in the normally stoic Valorossiyans, however she's not left wondering for long.

Dash is gesturing, indicating something with her hands, and then the skiff starts to climb up, shedding speed, and the roaring of the wind fades away so that they're able to have a normal conversation. Zsaryna's eyes open and she exhales explosively, before looking around, her eyes locking onto Twilight's, and for a second, her cheeks colour, but then she turns away with a toss of her head, and Twilight is reminded rather forcibly of Opalescence, Rarity's old cat, being caught doing something undignified. Certainly the same sleek, haughty manner that even now causes the Val to turn her back on Twilight and harrumph gently. Twilight wonders for a second if anyone flicked her ears at school.

Twilight is given little time to reflect on the matter however, because the skiff is starting to slow down, and Twilight can see their destination drawing closer. The prison complex is built in the middle of the city, and in a city of drab concrete buildings interspersed with adobe and marble, the Anzadan prison looms over the two-storey houses that surround it, its drab featureless walls shouldering their way arrogantly out of the city around it. The walls are pockmarked with bullet-holes, and the architecture of the complex has more in common with a castle than a prison, complete with crenelations and revetments on the walls, and thin firing slits to allow riflemen to fire out yet prevent anyone from firing in.

Twilight wrings her hands as the skiff continues to climb, rising over the walls and drifting past the perimeter, past the armed guards that are patrolling the outer wall, and then the wall suddenly drops away to reveal an empty space which is likewise patrolled by armed guards holding strange bronze armoured lizard-like creatures on chains.

“Demi-drakes,” Zsaryna explains when Twilight points them out. “For obvious reasons, canines are not particularly popular in this part of the world and so they use lizards. Understandable choice really.”

Twilight frowns for a moment, but says nothing, particularly as she can see the inner walls of the prison drawing nearer, and these are even more forbidding than the outer set of walls. Stakes protrude from the walls at regular intervals, with long thin strands of wire stretched between each stake. At first they don't look too intimidating, but as they draw closer to the walls, Twilight can feel the spells crackling along each strand of conductive filament. Each one carries foul sorceries that Twilight would never dream of casting, rending spells, bleeding spells, pain spells. Each strand carries enough magical charge to kill a man ten times over, and Twilight can see about ten strands stretched from each stake.

There are windows set into the inner wall, each window built into a recess with bars across it. Twilight shivers slightly, a chill travelling down her spine as they drift into the shadow of the inner wall, and then start to climb upward. She can feel a palpable sense of evil emanating from these walls, and Twilight wonders how Diplomatic Incident is doing. Whilst his hardiness has surprised her so far on this trip, she's fairly sure that whatever's in these walls will have made short work of him. Twilight's not sure she can handle that, another dead body presented to her today of all days, however they're too close to back out now.

The skiff drifts upwards, over the inner wall and into the prison proper. Twilight cannot help but gasp in awe as she gazes down, past the inner wall and into an exercise yard where Khans are being relentlessly drilled by circling wardens carrying whips or batons, thrashing the heels of any Khan that moves too slowly as they run back and forth. Other Khans are running through press-ups or chin ups, or other exercises, all under the eyes of the wardens in their blue-grey uniforms. One of the Khans dares to look up and point at their skiff, only for one of the wardens to extend his lash with a vicious crack that Twilight can hear from the skiff.

“We're heading to the admin block,” Dash growls. “Prophet sent word that we were coming, they should be expecting us.” She points ahead, to a building that looks more like a bunker than anything else. It's set into the farthest wall of the exercise yard, and is built onto a raised plateau, which is surrounded by another wire fence. Three gatling positions have also been set up on the lip of that plateau to cover the exercise yard. Any prisoner stupid enough to attempt to reach the admin block will have to navigate past ten feet of curse-wire and those three gatlings, plus fire from the inner perimeter wall. Twilight doesn't even want to think about how many have died trying to attempt it, although judging by the number of holes in the exercise yard floor, quite a few.

Twilight licks her lips, taking a deep breath as she tries to force a calm and neutral diplomatic expression upon her face. She needs to look magnanimous but humble. Kingly, but approachable. An interesting combination, and one that Twilight wishes she had more practice at. As they draw closer to the plateau, Twilight can see there are guards waiting for them, along with a welcoming committee dressed in the ornately decorated robes that pass for Khan formal.

“That's our LZ I'm guessing,” Rainbow Dash says softly, gesturing to a Khan with red flags waving at them to get their attention, and Zsaryna nods.

“That is the landing pad for air transports. Well, that's the one they use for formal visitors anyway, I do not fly here so my carriage comes in through the gates,” the Valorossiyan says primly as the helmsman expertly manoeuvres the skiff in to touch down in front of the prison officer with the flags, the prow of the skiff inches from the Khan's nose. To his credit, the Khan stuffs the flags into his belt and offers up a salute as sharp as one that has been seen on any parade ground. Twilight rises to her feet, nodding politely to acknowledge the gesture. She then watches as the Legionnaires leap out of the skiff, forming up in an almost perfect double column formation, Rainbow Dash taking up her position by the side of the skiff. As much as Twilight would have liked Dash to be her escort, that dubious honour falls to Zsaryna as the highest ranking person other than Twilight herself.

Twilight walks gingerly over to the gunwale of the ship, clambering awkwardly out to stand in the middle of the double column of Legionnaires, managing to keep her balance as she does so. Zsaryna follows gracefully, though Twilight hears a faint sigh of relief now that the tall and powerfully built ambassador is back on terra firma.

“Ninth Compagnie, right turn!” Dash orders, and at once the Legionnaires on either side of Twilight and Zsaryna pivot on the balls of their feet with the sharp, perfectly disciplined crash of a dozen hobnailed boots. Twilight glances from side to side, and then she starts to walk towards the delegation of Khans, who are looking understandably nervous at the sight of the ring of steel around Twilight. However, as Twilight starts walking, the Legionnaires fall back so they're just behind Twilight, but close enough to get involved if one of those Khans decides to pull something from under those voluminous robes.

The head of the Khan delegation is a corpulent tabby coloured specimen with short pointed ears, no tail to speak of, and rheumy eyes. His fur is thinly streaked with iron and his eyes are set into a scowl. He is flanked by a dozen prison-officers, all carrying rifles or shotguns, all clearly identifiable because of their grey-blue tunics.

He draws himself up to his full height, a display that makes Twilight want to laugh, and he inflates his chest slightly.

“Good morning,” he says in Equestrian, offering his hand for Twilight to shake. “I was expecting the princess to show up, I suppose she's too busy dealing with some function and has sent her majordomo?”

“Presenting her Royal Highness, Princess Twilight Sparkle, and the honoured Ambassador, Zsaryna Adrelana!” Dash says sharply and Twilight tries to hide her grin as the Khan splutters, his whiskers twitching with embarrassment.

“Forgive me, your Highness,” he says quickly, bowing and scraping, his retinue doing the same. Twilight notes that his Equestrian has worsened under pressure, whilst trying to hold back her giggles. “I was under the ah... under thought that your... your costume. You dress like man. Thought you were secretary.”

“My secretary is in there,” Twilight says, forcing her sentences to be short and simple, lest she laugh in the Khan's face and complicate matters, however a glance out of the corner of her eye shows that neither Dash nor Zsaryna find the matter to be very funny. Dash's white-gloved hands are gripping that rifle a little tighter than they should and the Valorossiyan's nostrils are slightly flared. The Khan is oblivious to these things however, as he rises from his bow.

“I am Dekan Mohammad, the governor of this prison.” The Khan makes an expansive gesture with one paw. “Follow me, I shall take you to your prisoner. Ordinarily, there would be paperwork for us both to do before release, but I do not want him here for another moment, so I shall give you the paperwork to fill out at your leisure.”

“Has he been causing problems?” Twilight asks, sure that Diplomatic Incident has been doing nothing of the kind. This place is very clearly for the worst of the worst, for the career criminals and hardened scum. She's sure that Diplomatic Incident has done nothing that would merit his imprisonment in such a place, and she's even more thankful than ever for those two Valorossiyan sentries that Zsaryna said she’d posted.

“After a fashion,” the governor grumbles, gesturing for her to follow after him, and so Twilight does, Zsaryna at her side, heading towards the doorway leading into the prison. As they draw closer, Twilight feels a faint unease rippling up her spine. The temperature drops and Twilight straightens her spine as she walks up the short flight of stairs to the door itself. The other Khans move in behind the Legionnaires, a dozen of them blocking the exit, and Twilight feels Dash tense up next to her.

“Expecting trouble?” the governor asks, his voice seemingly mocking as Twilight's hand drops to her pistol, however Twilight is saved the necessity of answering by Zsaryna's sharp rebuttal.

“Just open the door and we will get who we came for,” the low growl in the Valorossiyan's voice makes the unspoken threat in her words abundantly plain, and the governor nods slowly as he turns back to the door, sliding his keys into the lock with a shrill jangling that sets Twilight's nerves on edge. He then eases the door open with a low grinding creak, and Twilight follows him into the prison itself.

The first thing that strikes Twilight as they cross the threshold and head into the prison proper is the smell. A fetid stench that makes Twilight's eyes water, the reek of unwashed sweaty bodies in close quarters, so thick that Twilight can practically taste it. She winces as the governor leads them down a wide corridor. The unpainted brick walls of the corridor are pitted and scarred, stained by blood, and the tiles below their feet are cracked and faded. Just down the corridor, Twilight can hear a low pitched rumbling sound, a deep muted growl that slowly increases in volume as they approach two large heavyset steel doors.

“So tell me about the problems that my aide has been causing,” Twilight says after a moment, and the governor's back straightens as they draw near to the doors.

“He is a known figure among the prisoners. He has been upsetting the balance of power and damaging faith in my own trustees. He's been inciting violence amongst the prisoners.” Twilight tilts her head slightly. That does not sound at all like her aide, however the two armoured doors in front of them are now easing open, and any further comment Twilight may have had on the matter is rather rapidly forced aside.

The sound is indescribable, the crushing thunder of thousands of throats talking or yelling at each other pounds against Twilight's ears and for a moment, she is rooted to the spot by the onslaught of noise. However, as she takes a step forward, through the gates and out onto rusty metal grating, her eyes widen in shock for a different reason altogether.

They have stepped out onto a rusty metal catwalk that runs around the circumference of a hall of sorts, a hall at least three storeys tall, or rather, three storeys deep, since the gantry upon which Twilight is now standing is in fact the upper level of the three gantries, though that is not what shocks Twilight. What shocks Twilight is the size of the cells, which are quite clearly communal in nature, each one holding thirty prisoners in conditions of almost absolute squalor. Naturally, the inhabitants of the jail take a very keen interest in the sight of the young princess trotting along the walkway, hot on the heels of the prison governor, and their baying calls make Twilight's skin ripple in goosebumps. The fact that she cannot even see the prisoners, the steel doors set into the walls at regular intervals preventing anyone from gawking at what is going on inside each cell, does not bode well. Twilight is surprised to note that it is not just Khans behind bars in this facility, but humans too, their bigger hairless frames clearly distinguishable from the smaller, more compact Khans.

The air in the massive hall is heavy with tension, and the heat of the dimly lit room is making the princess sweat. She doesn't want to think about how unpleasant it must be for the Legionnaires in their woollen dress uniforms, however it's not just the heat that is causing Twilight to sweat. The atmosphere in this prison is incredibly oppressive. The guards are walking around in pairs, hands gripping their truncheons tightly, and the groups of prisoners that are allowed out of their cells are standing in surly knots. Imminent violence crackles through the air like summer lightning, and Twilight's hand strays closer to the leather holster than it should.

“So how has Diplomatic Incident been inciting violence?” Twilight asks, and the governor shrugs the indolent 'can't be asked' shrug of a Khan who has other things on his mind than the well-being of his charges.

“He brokers deals between prisoners, and encourages gambling and licentious conduct,” the governor growls. Twilight hears Zsaryna muttering something, though she doesn't quite catch precisely what the ambassador is saying, however she turns her attention back to the governor.

“Are you sure? That seems... somewhat out of character for him,” Twilight says, though the thought then strikes her that she actually doesn't know all that much about Diplomatic Incident outside of his role as her teacher, occasional chaperone and some-time secretary. Certainly he's declined to comment on his past, and so Twilight realises that she doesn't actually know what Diplomatic Incident's character is. She's been sure there's always been more to him than met the eye, but she's never really asked, or pried into his background, considering that an abuse of her power, not to mention the height of bad manners.

“He is that sort, he moves well in the circles that inhabit this place,” the governor says dismissively. “He has no doubt managed to conceal his criminal background from you, your Highness, but it would not be the first time that the Equestrian government has been penetrated, or indeed run by thieves.”

Twilight frowns. She hadn't expected for someone in authority to outright insult her government, and by extension, the Crown, to her face. Twilight carries on walking, her eyes narrowing slightly. She'll let that one slide, but that's the last free shot that this Khan will be getting at Celestia. Next time he dares to speak out of turn, Twilight will quite happily remind him where the line is, and by how wide a margin he has crossed it.

Twilight is spared the requirement of replying however as the governor finally halts outside one particular cell, and Twilight can hear a familiar voice from within, although actually catching sight of the ageing aide is all but impossible. She cannot actually hear what Diplomatic Incident is saying, the thick walls and the general din of noise make catching individual voices impossible.

“This is his cell,” the governor growls, gesturing at the heavy metal door. Unlike most of the cells in the complex, this one has been walled off, rather than having bars between the gantry and the cell itself. The only way in or out is through the metal door that the governor is now standing beside, whilst one of the wardens starts fiddling with the keys.

“You kept him in general population?” Zsaryna asks, her voice angrily incredulous, and Twilight cannot help but agree with her. Diplomatic Incident is a political prisoner of the kind that would normally, and indeed should be kept in a specialised cell, however the governor nods calmly.

“Of course, he insisted,” he says, and Twilight raises an eyebrow, wondering for a moment if she's the victim of a mix-up of some kind, however the warden finishes unlocking the latch and draws his baton from his belt, before bellowing something into the cell. He then opens the door into the cell and strides in. Twilight moves to follow, but her path is blocked by Rainbow Dash.

“I'll go in first, Grandpa and Sov, on me,” Dash says, gesturing as she unslings her rifle from her shoulder, taking the fearsome weapon into her hands. With its bayonet fitted, Twilight has to admit the rifle would probably put the willies up any prisoners who decide to try any funny business. However, as Dash prepares to advance, the governor steps into her way.

“I cannot permit you to go into that cell with your rifles, if you are taken hostage then the weapons on your person will make your recovery very difficult indeed.” He hands out a paw for the rifles, but Dash shakes her head briskly as she unslings her rifle.

“Fair point,” she grunts, though Twilight wonders how she can be so calm about going into that cellblock unarmed. “Gramps, give your weapon to Smit, Sov, give your rifle to Tabby and we'll get going, pistols and pig-stickers only.”

Dash hands her weapon to one of her comrades and the other two Legionnaires follow her example, however Dash then draws her fighting knife with one hand, and then goes for her pistol with the other hand, only to come into contact with an empty holster. Dash flushes slightly, and Twilight almost thinks she sees a worried glance hurled her way, before Dash shrugs. “Fuck it, left my pistol back in my grot, now of all times eh?”

“Didn't want to get it dirty, eh Boss?”

“Didn't want to waste it on some furry arse-bandit more like.”

“That thing's a work of art, you're just jealous,” Dash rejoinders, and Twilight steps forward.

“Caporal, take mine,” she offers, freeing her Webley from the holster. Dash nods, taking the weapon from Twilight and checking the cylinder before snapping the weapon shut.

“Thank you Ma'am.” Dash's tone is calm and neutral as she turns back to the entrance. “Anyway boys, let's get stuck in.” Dash's voice is filled with evident relish as she steps towards the portal and then calmly strides through, into the room. For a moment, the silence is deafening.

“Princess... you'd better come look at this,” she says brightly after an anguished second, and Twilight curiously steps through, past the governor and into the cell itself.

The first thing that strikes Twilight is how spacious and brightly lit the cell is. She had expected it to be a cramped and dripping hellhole, where the only light to see by would be torchlight, however the cell is brightly lit, revealing twenty five steel framed beds bolted to the floor, along with a small cabinet where each prisoner evidently keeps his personal effects. However, right now the prisoners are effectively ignoring the Legionnaires and the warden, clustered as they are into a tight knot of humans and Khans in the centre of the room. Twilight can feel tension in the air as she draws closer to the group of prisoners, however the silence is suddenly broken by a collective groan from quite a few of the Khans, and a relieved booming chuckle that Twilight knows all too well.

“Well played, Kingpin, Kamarov,” Diplomatic Incident's voice is warm and effusive. Twilight makes her way closer to the knot of people, reaching the edge of the crowd of prisoners.

“You are a master of cards, Ahmed.” A similarly deep grating voice that clearly belongs to a Khan with a love for cheap cigarettes rumbles through the room. “If I did not know better, I would say you are using your magic to cheat me.”

“Come now Kingpin, sour grapes do not befit a Khan of your standing.” Diplomatic Incident's tone is conciliatory.

“That is true, you beat me fair and square, though I would be most interested to see how you did it,” the Khan grumbles as Twilight clears her throat politely. At once the knot of prisoners stiffens as the realisation that there is company in the room with them strikes home, and suddenly Twilight's not sure that getting quite this close to them was a good idea. Several of the Khans are taller than her, and both the humans and the Khans are thick-set, of the kind of thickness that comes from muscle rather than flab.

“Wimmin!” one of the humans growls in Equestrian, “Civvie wimmin at ‘dat.”

“Get out of it!” Dash's warning is more than enough to give any Khan pause for thought, particularly coming from a woman carrying a revolver.

“Do I hear the dulcet tones of Equestrian Legionnaires?” Diplomatic Incident asks, and the crowd suddenly parts to reveal Diplomatic Incident sitting at a table in the centre of the room, dressed in the ill-fitting grey robes of a prisoner, and his half-moon glasses have a long thin crack in them. However his moustache is still bristly as ever, and Twilight can see a broad smile upon his face, though that might be down to the fairly large pile of cigarettes, bottles of spirits and bags of illicit substance in front of him, along with a couple of rather long wickedly sharp knives that are obviously not of human manufacture.

As Twilight draws closer to the table, she notices that Diplomatic Incident is not alone at the table. Two other males are sat at the table, their cards spread out in front of them. One is a short and stocky Khan, who unlike most of his race, has no fur. His skin is mottled with scars and tattoos of various kinds, and Twilight can see that this Khan likes to keep himself fit. A bowler hat is perched upon his head at what he presumably imagines is a jaunty angle, and he's wearing a pin-striped waistcoat, his robes having been fashioned into trousers. The other player at the table is a hulking Valorossiyan, dressed in the rusty tan combat uniform of one of the UVSR's soldiers, his submachine gun slung across his chest. His fellow bodyguard is standing in the crowd, occasionally taking a moment to shoot a dirty look at his comrade.

“I'm very glad to see you, Your Highness.” Diplomatic Incident rises to his feet quickly, a smile on his face. He bows gingerly, wincing slightly as he clutches his side. Twilight tilts her head.

“You're still hurt?” she asks, and Diplomatic Incident shakes his head.

“Just a paper cut Ma'am, the medical personnel here have worked wonders, but I... do not think I shall be getting around much,” Diplomatic Incident says grimly. “I'm still functional, but I've never been the most gymnastic of sorts as it is,” he chuckles grimly, triggering a laugh from the other Khan at the table.

“You make up for that with your ability to steal our money,” he growls, and Diplomatic Incident nods, offering the bald Khan a smile, which, after a second, is returned. Diplomatic Incident then rises from the table, though he leans on it for just a moment.
“So, Your Highness, what brings you here?” he asks after a second. “Have you come just to make sure everything's all ticketey-boo with your old teacher? I have to say I didn't expect to see anyone from the old country to take any trouble over me, that's the trouble with expendable assets.”

“You're not an asset I consider expendable,” Twilight says, and Diplomatic Incident's mouth drops open in shock.

“Oh, well, that's definitely a change in policy, standard procedure-”

“Can go hang itself,” Twilight says firmly. “I have need of people with your unique talents.”

“Begging your pardon Ma'am, but I am not sure what talents you mean, unless you're talking about a particularly large cream slice that needs my attention...” Diplomatic Incident says, although Twilight's sure she sees a gleam of relief in those eyes.

“I don't know about cream slices, but there are certainly a few questionable eclairs that could do with your expertise,” Twilight replies, and Diplomatic Incident nods, his shoulders straightening slightly.

“Well, Your Highness, I would be honoured to return to your service once more. I'm sure I can whip up a decent soufflé if you need me to,” Diplomatic Incident says, however his eyes suddenly switch to a point over Twilight's shoulder, and Twilight is suddenly gently but firmly pushed aside, and Twilight's eyes switch to see Zsaryna step past her, her eyes aflame.

“Leonid,” she says warmly. “I told you we'd come for you.”

“I did not doubt it for a moment.” Diplomatic Incident's eyes are alight, and Twilight can almost see the tension quivering through Zsaryna's frame. Something is clearly going on here, though Twilight's not quite sure what.

“Evidently, anyway, I shall give you a moment to say your goodbyes and we shall depart,” Zsaryna says, then her gaze falls upon the bodyguard that was at the table and she barks a series of rather sharp unpleasant words at the luckless bodyguard, who rises quickly to his feet, his colleague snickering. Diplomatic Incident nods, and then quickly starts to talk with the bald Khan, speaking rapidly in Fars'ad.

As they walk out of the prison cell, Diplomatic Incident's poker winnings returned to Kingpin for 'appropriate distribution', Diplomatic Incident leaning on the Valorossiyan ambassador despite several Legionnaires offering to let him lean on their shoulders. Dash catches up with Twilight, rifle back in her hands.

“Well that went pretty good I think,” Dash reflects to Twilight, who nods.

“It certainly could have gone worse,” Twilight replies sadly, but Dash smiles.

“Come off it Ma'am, no one was shooting at us, right?” she says, punching Twilight's right arm in a gesture of bonhomie. White fire suddenly leaps across Twilight's vision. She shrieks as pain dances down her arm. Twilight blinks back tears, as Dash tilts her head.

“Overdoing it a bit, aren't you?” Dash asks as Twilight cradles her arm. Twilight doesn't reply for a few moments, the pain searing through her arm making conscious thought almost impossible for a second. Twilight shakes her head, biting her lip to avoid releasing another shout of pain.

“No, that really hurt, more than it should,” Twilight replies, and she's rewarded by the faint smirk dropping off of Dash's face.

“Right, okay, when we get back, I'll take you to a doc, I'm sure we've got a couple sawbones in the battle-group who should be able to take a look at ya,” Dash says. “You reckon it's something that happened in the fight, I mean, you did get knocked about a bit... but you put yourself together after that.”

Twilight nods, thinking hard about the magic that had put her back together without her having to think about it or do anything to stop it, and not for the first time she wonders if that's really such a good thing. However Twilight is given no time to reflect upon the matter, as she suddenly feels something moving around in the recesses of her mind, a strange cold and remote presence that is at once familiar, though also alien. Twilight squints and quickly clasps her mental grip around the presence, like prying fingers, which swiftly withdraw from her mind’s inquisitive gaze. The fingers slip away, sliding out of her grasp and out of her mind, leaving the faintest impression of infinite depths.

Twilight frowns, furrowing her brows as she contemplates the sensation. Whenever Luna normally sticks her fingers into Twilight's head, it is quick and firm; she takes what she needs and then leaves. The presence in her mind on this occasion was almost gentle, pulling back from her mind the moment that Twilight became aware of it. That being said, it still bore the hallmarks of the Night Princess' presence. Twilight frowns slightly as the pain in her arm slowly fades into a dull ache.

Twilight’s thoughts are interrupted however as a figure suddenly steps out directly into her path, and Twilight only catches the vaguest hint of a bald man with a beard and dungarees before Rainbow Dash steps forward, putting herself between Twilight and the strange man. At the same time, Twilight hears Diplomatic Incident sharply take a breath and she can hear a faint irritable hiss emanating from his Valorossiyan companion. Even the other Legionnaires around her are suddenly on edge, and a prosthetic fighting arm whirrs threateningly.

“Ah, Ernst!” Twilight looks around Rainbow Dash, and catches her first good look at the man who has put the Legionnaires on edge. At first glance, he's nothing special, though Twilight can see the scars of frontier life pounded into his leathery face and shovel-like hands. The man has taken a particular shine to Diplomatic Incident, though judging by the expression on Diplomatic Incident's face which could curdle milk at fifty paces, the favour isn't returned. “I see your friends have come to dig you out. You better watch this one Princess, he'll sell you out as soon as look at you.” His gaze turns upon Twilight, and a shiver dances up the young Princess' spine as she tries to place that accent.
“Step back.” Dash's tone is loaded with venom.

“Is that a way to talk to a representative of the Khan government?” The man sounds genuinely hurt, and Twilight frowns slightly.

“No, but for talkin' to terrorists, it works just fine,” Dash replies, and the man raises his hands in a parody of shocked offence.

“Well, how many villages do you fookin' mutts burn down in a week? Answer me that, then tell me who the terrorists are,” the man replies, a smirk on his face, though the smirk doesn't quite reach his eyes. “Now, I'd like to see the princess, preferably without her dogs breathing on me.”

Twilight feels a warning hand upon her arm, but she steps past Dash anyway, so that she's standing face to face with this man, who grins as she steps forward.

“Well, this is a most unexpected pleasure Princess, I hear you've had a rather rough landing, ja?” He says with a smirk, and Twilight fights to keep her expression neutral. The man chuckles indolently and then he steps forward, so he's almost nose to nose with the princess.
“Why don't you do your pretty little self a favour and get out of here, hmm?” he snaps. “Equestria's brand of meddling isn't appreciated here.”

“Equestria is committed to a peaceful resolution of current tensions.” Twilight's voice is firm, her eyes narrow.

“Much like you were committed to peaceful resolutions back in the Boer states I suppose, and look how that fookin’ turned out,” the man hisses, his leathery hand snaking out and swiftly grasping Twilight's wrist, and Twilight’s gaze flicks down uneasily as she pulls her wrist against his vicelike grip. Her eyes snap back up to look into the man’s cold eyes, and for a second she sees the ghost of a predatory leer upon his face. Out of the corner of her eye, Twilight notices Rainbow Dash bringing her revolver up but Twilight gestures with her other hand for Dash to stand down, in spite of her skin beginning to crawl at his touch. Suddenly however, the man pulls his hand away as a flash of purple sparks dances between his fingers. His eyes narrow faintly and his mouth curls into a vicious sneer.

“Looks like Celestia's dog has a bit of bite to her, we'll be seein' ya, Princess. Enjoy your flight back, ya fookin’ freak.” The man growls and Twilight bites her lip as she watches him turn and walk away, and Twilight's mind slowly eases as she watches his retreating back, though pain still ripples up and down her arm and makes her fingers twitch.

“Who’s that dickhead?” one of the Legionnaires growls, gesturing at the bald man. Diplomatic Incident sucks his teeth.
“He's one of the most wanted men in Equestria. His name is Piet Vorstein, though these days he goes by the handle-”
“Springbok,” Dash grunts. “We’ve had persistent rumours going around about his organisation setting down roots here, though I'm surprised to see him in prison at last. Didn't think the Khans had any beef with him.”
“We don't,” the governor says as they round a corner and start walking toward the entrance. “Mr Vorstien is a valued employee of the Ministry of War,” he supplies.

Twilight's mouth flattens into a straight line as she considers the implications of Mr Vorstien’s presence. If known terrorists are being employed by the Khans then things are worse than Twilight had expected. Suddenly this trip out to the prison doesn't seem like quite such a good idea, even if they have learnt quite a bit. However, they're now approaching the armoured gateway back into the bright sunlight, out and away from this hellish nightmare of a prison, and Twilight can almost taste the fresh air.

As they reach the front door of the prison, Twilight feels a smile spread across her face. After a rather dubious start, things might now start going according to plan. A stab of pain arrows up her arm like fire. Her fingers twitch sharply and Twilight bites her lip, holding back a whimper. Twilight lightly shakes her head as if to twitch away a bothersome insect. Dash has other things to worry about right now than unspecified aches and pains. As if in response to her decision, the pain subsides and Twilight relaxes faintly, not noticing the concerned look Diplomatic Incident shoots her as Dash leads the small party back out onto the landing pad.

As Twilight steps out into the sunlight and the blazing heat, squinting faintly, she notices something out of the corner of her eye. A prison officer walks up to the governor and quickly taps him on the shoulder.
“Excuse me.” The governor turns away from the princess, walking away with the prison officer. Twilight just catches them whispering frantically to each other before they reach the edge of the landing pad and head down a set of steps and out of view.

At once, the atmosphere changes. A hand is placed upon Twilight’s back and suddenly she’s being pulled forward towards the waiting skimmers. Around her, the prison guards are starting to tense up. Batons are being drawn from holsters, and rifles are being moved from backs to paws. The narrow slits of the prison’s windows glare down at her and the guards’ implacable gaze hammers down upon her.

“I don’t like this, watch the top of the walls!” Dash calls, and Twilight cannot blame her one bit as they cross the open ground between the prison entrance and the skiff. Twilight can feel hostile eyes upon her as she picks up her own pace to try and get across.
She looks upward, her gaze sweeping the Khans on the walls, all of whom are watching her. Khans scowl down at her, and her gaze is drawn towards one of the prison officers standing behind a crank-driven gun. The naked hatred in his eyes sets her heart racing. She has to tear her gaze away from the hate burning in those eyes. As she walks across the landing field, Twilight can feel the sights of a marksman between her shoulderblades with every step.

Reaching the tentative safety of the skiff, the Legionnaires are leaping aboard and taking positions in the hull, Dash turning and offering Twilight a hand. The ratcheting clack of a bolt being slammed forward from somewhere behind her punches into her soul. The hairs on the back of her neck leap up, her mind going blank. She can almost see her back in a sniper’s sight, and feel a distant finger closing triumphantly around a trigger.

Twilight reaches out for Dash’s hand, her heart racing and her head swimming as the hate-filled eyes of that Khan fill her mind. Her hand closes around Dash’s, and another vicious slice of pain spears up her arm. Twilight bites her lip and tries to ignore it as she clambers up into the skiff, scrabbling for purchase and managing to get up over the gunwale. She promptly overbalances and tumbles forward, however she feels hands on her, hauling her into the skiff. Dash’s voice fills the air almost drowning out the rasping sound of the pins being pulled from grenades ringing in the air.

“MOVE MOVE MOVE!”

Failure washes through Twilight and her lip quivers slightly, her hands shaking fearfully. After this morning, after Diplomatic Incident. She’d hoped things would be getting better, but obviously not.

“Stay down!” A voice spears through the air as the craft starts to lift. Twilight barely manages to hear the first syllable of the order before an icy chill spreads up her spine, the icy fingers invading her mind once more. Her eyes close and her head pitches forwards as the crack of a gunshot fills the air.

Next Chapter: Chapter 3: Darkness Descending Estimated time remaining: 5 Hours, 39 Minutes