Flurry Heart had little experience living out on the trail. Whenever her family went out “camping,” it was always with dozens of attendants, where all day to day aspects of camping and survival were taken care of by someone else. She had no idea how to start a campfire, how to sleep without a cot already set up for her, which plants were delicious and which would make her sick.

But traveling with the Elements removed a great deal of the insecurity. Applejack knew the wilderness better than anypony she’d ever known. She didn’t even need a map to navigate them away from Canterlot, sticking to the trees and hills so they wouldn’t be spotted by the Storm King’s griffon mercenaries.

There were few dangers on the trail this close to Canterlot—all the forests here were tame, the animals were trained, and most of the dangerous plants had been cut back. One night she heard a timberwolf howling from outside the large tent, somewhere close by. Perez rose, told the ponies he’d take care of it, and came back an hour later with bits of wood in his robes. They didn’t hear the howling again.

They traveled quickly, though perhaps not as quick as they could’ve gone if there weren’t so many eyes out looking for them, all with wings. But there were two earth ponies among the elements, and Perez mentioned more than once that he couldn’t even glide, so they would have to hoof it until they found an airship willing to smuggle them.

“We don’t have to go back to Ponyville, Twi,” said Rainbow Dash, when they’d been traveling for a few days and the little valley town was in sight below them.

Flurry Heart had fond memories of her visits to the place in her childhood, and time spent with her aunt away from her parents. But all her time spent with Twilight among that town’s citizens now made her look out on the little settlement with shame. She had failed those ponies, just as she’d failed the ones in Canterlot. And so many others.

It looked like a few of the homes had been burned, though the damage wasn’t as bad as in Canterlot. There were little flying patrols of mercenaries down there.

“Yeah, it’s just like I said. I’ve already flown out here. We’re so close to Canterlot that the Storm King has it on lock. We won’t be able to get supplies without putting ponies in danger. Cloudsdale is our best bet.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Applejack argued. “Cloudsdale might’ve escaped, but it’s a pegasus town.”

“And?” Rainbow Dash puffed up her chest, feathers gaining a little volume in her wings. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that there ain’t no dirt up there. The only way Cloudsdale got food was from the ground. Ya’ll sold weather, we traded the crops we grew with it. But who are they sellin’ to when the Storm King controls all the food? Those ponies are gonna have to spread out, like everypony with sense has been doin’ since this started. I say our best idea is gettin’ as far away from Canterlot as possible, in the darkest little corner of Equestria that the Storm King wouldn’t even think to visit. That’s where we want to start recruitin’.”

“I, um…” Fluttershy kept herself in the back of the group at all times, mostly chatting with Perez about various dragon things. But apparently some thought had finally moved her to say something. “I know this is… I don’t want to be inconsiderate…”

“Go ahead,” Twilight said. “We need all the ideas we can get, including yours.”

“Well, uh… when Equestria was in danger last time, when Princess Celestia…” She trailed off. “You said Harmony wouldn’t let anything bad happen. You said we had to trust it to protect Equestria. Why isn’t Harmony saving us? Maybe it doesn’t know. Maybe we just have to go up to it, and let Harmony know that we’re in danger, and everything will be okay. Like… Tirek, remember him? We could just… do that again.”

Flurry Heart had taken to hanging around in back, where she was safe from being asked to do anything. But even she noticed Perez’s head snap up at mention of Harmony. He’d been carving something out of wood with just his claws, but now he watched Twilight through the mask with laser focus. Will he have to protect me from the Elements of Harmony, too? Twilight Sparkle and her mother had both tried to free her from Celestia, but they’d failed. And if it wasn’t for Harmony, there would’ve been nothing to torture her with.

It’s okay, all the fighting is over. I’m not going to have to watch that ever again.

Lucky had promised, and so far she’d kept all of her promises. Including protecting her, even when she was away from Othar and Equestria. Even when, as it seemed now, Othar was destroyed.

Twilight finally answered. “That was the first thing I did,” she said. “Telling Harmony, I mean. Teleporting nine ponies is tough, but just me… I went straight into the tree. I asked Harmony to protect Equestria, but it said that it already knew what was happening and it wasn’t going to do anything about it.”

“That’s mean,” Pinkie Pie said. “Hasn’t it been watching? Look at Ponyville!”

“Is it really that surprisin’?” Applejack asked. “Look what happened with those, uh… whatchamacallems… on their island…”

“Humans,” Flurry Heart corrected. “What about them?” Just because she was pretending not to know Perez didn’t mean she had to hide her own past. Her aunt and all the Elements of Harmony knew where she’d been living for the last year. They knew she was friends with them, and that she was close to their princess in particular.

And she could see them share an awkward look. Like they were exchangng some private worry about her, or they were afraid she might lose her mind and attack them.

“Nothing personal, Flurry Heart, but they kinda made a huge mess. Blowing up the Castle of the Two Sisters, scaring all of Equestria half to death, Celestia…”

“She never would’ve let this happen,” Rarity breathed. She sounded less angry than the others—rather, her voice was haunted. “She would’ve put the Storm King in his place the instant that brutish airship of his got anywhere near Equestria.”

Flurry Heart felt emotion rising in her chest. She glared at Applejack. “What about you? Do you hate the humans too?” She didn’t have to say what she was thinking—she knew Applejack would understand.

Sure enough, the earth pony looked away. “I… no,” she finally said. “But I don’t love ‘em either. It was wrong for Celestia to keep our families from us for all this time. My whole life… we didn’t haveta be alone. But at the same time, that princess of theirs didn’t fix it for everypony, did she? All over Equestria, and ponies are getting their families back. The next night comes, and everypony can’t wait to see who comes back next… but it ain’t nopony. The Apples are a big family, and we ain’t the only one with lotsa holes in it. It’s great they gave us Ma and Pa back, but I ain’t gonna love ‘em for doin’ half a job.”

They aren’t the ones who had the power for a thousand years and never used it, Flurry Heart thought, gritting her teeth for a second. But she dismissed the thought before she could say anything too angry at Applejack. She was probably the one least antagonistic towards humans, while Twilight would be the most suspicious. They’re the ones we really need. Survivors from their city. Where would they hide?

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” Perez said. As before, he kept mostly out of the way, not trying to tell the ponies where they should go or what they should do. “But I could just go into the city. All of you are recognizable—you’re known to the ponies here. As soon as you show your faces anywhere…”

“And you aren’t?” Rainbow Dash asked, indignant. “How many of those ugly soldiers did you kill? I’m sure they’ve got posters up looking for you all over Equestria.”

“They will,” he actually sounded more pleased by her objection than upset. “But that’s how you get sympathy. Ponies know I’m on their side, you dig? The Storm King doesn’t know I have anything to do with you.”

“Maybe not,” Twilight said. “But he will know that Flurry Heart went this way. If you’re right and they’re really bringing their dead back to life…”

“You’re the one who wanted to believe him,” Rainbow said. “Still sounds crazy to me.”

“It’s not,” said several ponies at once, including Flurry Heart.

“That’s true…” he admitted. “That is a disadvantage.”

“Why do you need somepony to go?” Flurry Heart asked, voice a little apprehensive. “I mean… just curious.”

“To bring back a few things,” Perez answered, quicker than any of the others.

“To find out where the biggest groups of resistance are building,” Twilight answered. “And to save Spike.”

“You think he’s in the castle?”

Twilight nodded. “From the look of it, the Storm King hasn’t got through its defenses yet. If you use a scrying spell on the entrance…” She seemed to see Flurry Heart’s nervous blush, because she just nodded. “Sure, hold on. I’ll…”

And suddenly Flurry Heart was looking at the front of the tree-castle from ground level, where at least a dozen of the Storm King’s ugly soldiers were facing out at the city. Not keeping ponies from getting out, but keeping them from getting in.

The vision only lasted for a few seconds, which was probably for the best since Flurry Heart’s head was already starting to spin. “Looks like there are ponies in the castle,” Flurry Heart said. “Can’t we… help them escape?”

Twilight shook her head. “That castle has more defensive magic on it than any structure like it—nothing with hostile intentions towards Equestria or any of the castle’s inhabitants can enter. And I’ve kept it well-supplied—that’s where Ponyville kept its emergency supplies. Ever since I put in the well, the ponies inside could probably last a year. More, if they use the balconies and top floors for growing. But they’ll probably leave those locked, since they’ll think griffons or climbers might get in that way.”

“Maybe they’re safer where they are,” Rarity said. “Spike, I mean. Not that it wouldn’t be delightful to have him along, but… I sleep sounder knowing my sister is safe inside your castle. Whatever we’re about to do, I’m sure it will be dangerous and dirty and my sister is better off where she is.”

“I wanted to ask him…” But Twilight didn’t finish her sentence. “It wouldn’t be that difficult to teleport us all there. I’ll need a few hours to recover, but the castle is perfectly safe. So long as we aren’t worried about information about us leaking out…”

Perez cleared his throat. “Frankly, Princess, plenty of ponies already know. You all wouldn’t take my advice about hiding. The truth is out there, and every day there are more leaks in the system. If it hasn’t already, eventually some pony is gonna get the idea that they can buy a little more grain for their family by selling us out, and the lid will be off. I think we’re safe going back there, so long as we are extremely careful not to let our plans be known by anyone we see.”

He met their eyes one at a time. “If you’ve got family in there, you need to keep things secret from them too. Can’t tell them what we’ve thought about doing, only that we have a plan. That way the Storm King won’t learn what we’re about to do before he’s dead.”

There was a little discussion about the topic—mostly between those who insisted that their families could be trusted and would never tell the Storm King anything about them. Perez pushed, and eventually the arguing stopped.

“A day in a real bed,” Twilight finally said. “And access to all my books and maps. More supplies for the road.” Her horn started to glow. “Nobody try to leave the castle while we’re there. And… probably stay away from the windows. Those aren’t enchanted, so…”

Her horn flashed, and suddenly they were somewhere else.

Long ago, when Sarah had heard it was possible to sign up with the Pioneering Society and explore the universe, this was what she had imagined.

Irkalla was familiar in the way that all cities were alike. There were the huge buildings, around which were the cultural and civic centers. In the case of Irkalla, there were fewer big open spaces to take in the whole view at one time, but she could still feel when they were moving closer to the city’s beating heart, and when they were further away. There were sidewalks, lanes for traffic, and maintenance systems. And as in every other city, most of those she saw seemed to just want to mind their own business for another day.

But Irkalla was also radically unlike any city she’d visited before, except perhaps what little she remembered from her trip to the Pioneering station. It was far more a space station than a city built on the ground—every surface was either metal or the semitransparent changeling slime. She hadn’t seen the city from a distance, since she had been brought directly into the city by wild changelings. But even so, she imagined it as the wreckage of an ancient starship, with many interconnected sections. There was rarely enough sky for a skyline, but where there were windows or openings into other areas, she could see tube-like walkways connecting one deck to the next.

The citizens were different too. As they walked under the glowing green and blue fungal lights, she saw only two types of people. Colorful changelings like Ocellus, who were generally friendly and always busy with something, and changelings like James. The black kind were harder to tell for sure, given that not all of them were intelligent.

Unlike the ponies of the surface, these changelings wore clothing, and she could sometimes use it to tell them apart. Jewelry was the most common, tiny clear vials that held green liquid in amounts so miniscule that she could barely make out the glow. Not jewelry, then. Wallets. Ocellus hadn’t been speaking metaphorically when she said that the glamour was their currency.

Unfortunately for her, it was not dark enough that she could just blend in as they walked. Every street they took brought eyes to her, and whispers she could make out with little effort.

“What is she doing outside a paddock? Maybe she’s on assignment. Is that Ocellus? Maybe it’s a royal mission?” But however often she could feel staring eyes watching them, they were rarely interrupted. Only by stalls soliciting them for strange-smelling treats made from fungus or insects, which Ocellus stared longingly at more than once but ultimately passed up.

“The palace is located near the top of the city,” she said, as they made their way through one of the wider corridors. Sarah had come to judge how important their location was based on how wide the hallways were, which made their current route the most important so far. “Once we get inside, we can get this whole thing sorted. My uncle will know exactly what to do, and news of what happened in Chroma won’t be here yet. Should be just enough time to clean this up before things get worse.”

“Do you two ever eat?” Sarah asked, before she even realized what she was doing. She glanced longingly down at the ripped saddlebag she was wearing, and the food pellets inside. The rations were some of the worst things she’d ever tasted, but she was getting desperate. There hadn’t exactly been a chance to have lunch during the ride over. “I don’t normally complain, but… come on, it’s been almost two days now. I’m starving.”

“Oh, right,” Ocellus muttered, expression darkening. “That would be too much time for a pony, wouldn’t it? The palace has the supplies to host you. Once we arrive, you can eat.”

But they were coming to a stop, and Sarah only felt more agitated. Up ahead, one of the other strange aspects of the city was before them. Irkalla had maintenance systems all right—changelings. The drones had tunnels that were painted all in red, with lines on the floor warning passers-by where not to go. They moved freely through the city, and people seemed to pay them less attention than they did to the location of the curbs and sidewalks.

Except like now, where they completely blocked traffic. Something had happened in the passage up ahead, something that made the whole place start to stink. Was that battery acid?

“What are they doing?” James asked. Apparently too loudly, because at least a dozen changelings turned to stare at him. Like he’d walked into someone’s funeral and taken a dump on the carpet.

Ocellus smacked him on the flat of his back with a hoof, where his chitin was thickest, and hard enough that it made a loud cracking sound. Not hard enough that there was any visible damage, though that seemed to settle the matter for most of the watching changelings. “Someone went feral,” she whispered, so quietly that even Sarah had trouble hearing her. She didn’t say anything else, not until traffic was moving again and they weren’t standing in the back of a silent crowd.

Sarah had a few minutes of near silence to appreciate the city a little more—branching hallways labeled in faded paint, hollow metallic stairwells and ladders linking the overlapping floors. One thing seemed obvious: this place hadn’t been designed for a species that could fly. Otherwise, why have so many ramps?

But then they were out, and they’d gotten some distance from the offended ponies. Ocellus explained, her voice still reverent. “It’s what happens when you don’t get enough love. It can’t happen to me anymore, but… you’re not immune, James. Not until you adapt like I have. My uncle will be even better about teaching you than I am. A few months should get you there no problem.”

“A few months?” He sounded indignant. And Sarah couldn’t exactly blame him. “A few months where I could… what happens?”

“Well, you… slowly lose your mind. The memories aren’t really in there, just like with ponies or anything else, but there’s still some muscle memory. Enough for you to fake who you used to be, or keep going and try to get some love. If you don’t get it… well, the body knows it used to be something else, or maybe the mind is still trying to control it but it isn’t working. There are stories from both sides. My father made sure it never happened to me, so I can’t tell you what it’s like from experience.”

She trailed off, jerking them suddenly into a low passage off to one side. But then, from Sarah’s perspective everything seemed small. These changelings had been built to get around in tight spaces like she hadn’t been. “Saw some… unfriendly changelings follow us,” she said, leading them all the way to the back of a bar full of colorful changelings. They all gave James dirty looks, but Ocellus waved them off apologetically. They slipped out through the kitchen, then into an alley.

There were no dumpsters, but there were piles of rotting garbage, just set out in the corridor behind the shops. So not really that different from a human city after all.

“Are they still following us?” Sarah glanced over her shoulder, listening intently. But it was much harder to isolate sounds now that they were in such a crowded place. Irkalla had so many people living in it that everything they did blurred together, turning the space even a few meters away from them into a nondescript haze. It didn’t hurt—it wasn’t like her senses had been enhanced so far that she was overwhelmed. More that the information became smeared, and she could no more hear what was going on outside that range than she could see into their houses and shops.

“Uh… no? Hopefully not.” Ocellus hurried them on, up a spiral staircase and through a few more cramped alleys. She was pretty sure the changelings they saw sleeping behind bits of broken equipment or near piles of garbage were pretty close to feral themselves, based on the way they watched her every second like she was a UN relief worker carrying boxes of food.

“That’s it.” Ocellus pointed up ahead, where corridors shifted in coloration from silvery to rusty red. “That’s the palace. Most dangerous part of Irkalla.”

“Huh?” James squinted up ahead. “Why would the palace be dangerous?”

“Because my uncle and my father both think they should be ruling. They both claim it for themselves, and they both try to use it. There’s… well, changelings die there a lot. They always used to die a lot, but… that was mostly because the old queen used that for discipline. If a changeling screwed up badly enough, killing them was the fastest way to make sure they went back to school, maybe grew up to be less crappy at their job. But since we don’t have the love to replace most people who die now…” She trailed off.

“That sounds like shit.” Sarah stared at the palace corridor, but it wasn’t all that different from the others they’d seen. There was a sealed door at the far end, one that looked properly like an airlock. There was the glow of electric lights too, instead of the bioluminescence from various patches of fungus growing in cultivated pots. “Even if you could bring someone back. Corporal punishment is… barbaric.”

Ocellus shrugged. “Not as barbaric as what we have now. I don’t really know what your plan is for making this not fall apart the instant you walk inside. You didn’t seem to know anything about our situation.”

“I don’t,” Sarah said. “But I know what the surface is like. I know you’ve got friends up there who aren’t backwards idiots. Maybe just telling them the good news will be enough.”

“Maybe.” Ocellus didn’t sound hopeful. “Convincing my father will be the hard part. Uncle will be easy, he’ll believe you if you aren’t lying. He’s simple like that. And even if you do convince them… it’s been so long since we thought about what to do after the quarantine that nobody talks about what we’ll do like the queen used to. If Chrysalis were still here… but she’s gone, so we’ll have to make do.”

Ocellus straightened, then gestured at the door up ahead. “I hope you feel convincing, Sarah.”

Sarah felt herself grinning. “I feel like I could sell ice to an eskimo. After eating a few of his seals. Or… maybe more of those giant moths? Those smelled really good.”

Olivia felt broken. And she should—she’d removed one of her limbs. The prosthetic leg might be cheap plastic, its servos might squeak and whine when she put her weight on them, but at least it was a leg.

An ISMU biofab could’ve replaced the limb with two days of growth and a fifteen-minute surgery. But there was only one biofab now, and it had so many more important things to do. Now, for the first time, she found herself grateful her body was incomplete. The day had finally come where her disability was an advantage.

One of the locals had made her a new prosthetic, a combination of faux-leather and a bit of simple wood. Instead of acting like her real leg, it wasn’t quite the right length, and didn’t even bend at the knee. Hard to believe humans used to live with this too. And there are still ponies who have to live with it, even though their ancestors cured these things like we did.

“Are you sure you want to be the one?” Lucky asked, from their little room deep inside the mountain. Like many of the new buildings, it was located in one of the old pony tunnels, expanded by Forerunner drone and given a semblance of livability with a bit of polyceramic fill and some paint on the walls. “Nopony will be in more danger than you. There are plenty of others who’d be willing.”

“There are,” she agreed. “But none of them have this.” She lifted the prosthetic into the air, waving the carved wood around dramatically. “Look at what that makeup artist did to my face.” She still kept her mane short enough that there had been little to work with there, so all she could do was stick in bits of debris. She smelled as bad as she looked—they’d used real dirt to make her look this way, and real garbage. “You don’t have anyone who can look this pathetic. I’m perfect.”

“Alright. Well, you’ve got your radio. Say the word, and we can go to plan B whenever you want. It’s not ideal, but… if that’s what we have to do, then we’ll do it. Forerunner should be watching at all times, but won’t be enough to save you if one of them decides to shoot you.”

Olivia shrugged her wings. She’d taken to using them more now that she didn’t have a leg—she could hover more reliably than she could walk. “I’ve already got… how many more chances than I deserve? If now’s when I go, then I think it was a pretty good run.” She glanced down at the wheeled cart. It was covered with a cloth, concealing the bits of precious metals tucked inside. This was the offer that would hopefully interest the Storm King’s troops.

“Good luck.”

“Yeah.” She grinned. “You know it won’t be over, even if I do this. Slimeballs like this always want more. They make threats, they get louder and squeakier all the time. They always need a little more not to tell.”

Lucky shrugged. “We won’t need his cooperation for long. But you don’t need me to tell you what to do if he won’t play.”

“I don’t,” she agreed.

She wrapped the straps around herself, bracing the stump of one leg against the cart’s counterweight to get it rolling. It was just as primitive as the rest of her, so there were no clever motors or secret gears to make it easy. Just lots of heavy metal inside a cart made of simple carved wood.

But she made it down the shaft, past lots of identical amber lights. And she had to admit, she liked the uneven shafts much more than identical Forerunner corridors. The ponies had often cut around interesting cave features, instead of grinding everything to dust. There were lots of stalactites on the ceiling, and flowing crystal deposits on the walls that still dripped water. Deadlight and the other bats sure seemed at home down here.

There were many entrances now, but Olivia didn’t use any of the new ones—instead, she used the old mine elevator. It rumbled and clanked all the way up, right along with the sound of rushing fluid. It took almost ten minutes for it to take her to the top, thin metal creaking and shaking with every moment. It hardly inspired confidence, but it wasn’t like where Olivia was going was safe.

Then she reached the top floor, and came to rest inside a wooden shack.

She could hear the soldiers outside. The Storm King’s troops barked to each other in a guttural tongue as they emptied out ponies’ homes through their windows, separating their belongings into separate piles. The armored car that had taken them here still sat in the station, which had its own guards.

Olivia stepped out of the mine, past the two of the massive guards looming there.

“I’m listening to everything,” said Forerunner into her ear, using the concealed transducer microphone there. Pony ears were huge—they made it much easier to hide little things like that. “It would be more convenient if I didn’t have to translate for you. When this is over, you should put more energy into your Eoch studies.”

But she couldn’t reply, not without looking even more like an insane pony.

Already there were several guards coming closer to her.

“Subvocalize,” Forerunner said. “Like you practiced. I’ll know what you want to say.”

Olivia wanted to respond with annoyance, reminding him to examine her mission record. She knew how this worked. She’d been special forces after all, both on and off planet. She didn’t need refreshers from a program.

“What are you doing with that?” asked one of the guards, Forerunner’s translation coming almost perfectly timed with its speech.

“Just… following the mayor’s orders,” she said, her voice appropriately timid. “Need to… see him.”

The guards backed away, muttering something about the likelihood of catching diseases from her. One of them pointed at city hall, which was already transforming into a barracks. “Go quickly, pony. You are late.”

She went quickly, or as quickly as she could missing one of her legs. None of the others tried to stop her, not all the way into city hall.

There was a line of ponies outside, where they’d been sorted into groups. It was just like they’d heard about in the last telegrams from Equestria proper: the Storm King sorted the population into those who could work for him in one capacity or another, and those who couldn’t. Almost everyone was being placed in the former group, seeing as Motherlode was a mining town and those who lived here almost universally did something useful for the mine.

The smaller, second group was populated entirely with their children, and the elderly, and a few ponies who had suffered accidents like hers, sans any new prosthetics.

We can’t keep this up for much longer. If these ponies have to live like this for any length of time, someone is going to say something they shouldn’t and we’re going to have to kill or imprison these soldiers. It was time to put a stop to it, before their secret headquarters got discovered and all their hard work was wasted.

Oliva strode confidently into the office. Other ponies parted for her, letting her to the front without discussion. There wasn’t anything to say—most of them knew her by now, knew she was the one responsible for their security. She could see in their eyes just how eager they were for her to get started. The indignity had been going on too long.

She made it to the former mayor’s office, where Sunkiss stood outside with one of the guards and a large black ledger. She barely listened as she gave Olivia’s cover story, and the soldier accepted it without complaint. Why get suspicious, when the physical reality was so obvious?

Eventually the door opened, and the guard blocked the way in front of her. “Show respect to your new regent,” he said. “Obey, and you live. Resist, and you will be left for the storm.” As menacing as the words might’ve been, he said them like a bored clerk at a government office.

She went in.

Already the office was transformed. Storm King banners hung over the bookshelves, and all the glass sample cases of valuable minerals had been shattered. A few of the maps were missing from the walls as well—fortunately none of those would show the new city. They’d been planning for this day.

The creature inside was far smaller than what she’d been expecting. Quite like the other monsters, but somehow stunted at the same time. He was shorter than a pony, without the bulky muscles and with most of the fur shaved back. She’d never been this close to one of them and not killed them. The climate that brought a slight chill to the non-earth ponies who lived here seemed a welcome relief to him, and he lounged in a large chair behind the desk as though he barely saw her.

“You cannot have anything of interest to his majesty,” he said, taking one look at her and then away from the cart she’d brought. “Guards, take her to—”

“Wait,” she said, letting in just a trace of the voice she would use to command. As she had expected, he stopped. This tiny creature was someone used to being told what to do. “My family is… I have something important to show you. Something we can only trust to someone with the ear of our new king.”

He finally seemed to look at her. Olivia tensed, knowing this could be the moment where their careful plan failed and Qingzhi’s marines had to emerge to do their work. It was a delicate balance—to look as pathetic as she possibly could so as to not intimidate him, while not seeming so pathetic that she couldn’t have anything of interest. Olivia tugged slightly on the cloth over her cart, so that a tiny glint of gold emerged from within. His eyes caught it, and went wide.

“Go on, Lokosh,” the tiny regent said, gesturing dismissively with one hand. “Shut the door, and don’t let anyone disturb us.” He waited until the soldier had obeyed, which he did only sluggishly, before hopping up onto the table and walking across it towards her. “Tell me what secrets you have for your king. I’m his brother, you know. If I’m the one who tells him, he’ll listen.”

Of course he will. That’s why he exiled you to a tiny mining town a thousand miles from Canterlot. Because he cares so much about what you have to say. At the same time, that did make this operation a little more dangerous. Many dictators made it a point to protect their families with extreme violence. They wouldn’t allow anyone else to hurt them, even while they abused their own relatives with impunity.

Olivia pulled the cart open. It was filled with wealth—mostly in slips of gold and silver. Most of it was really tungsten with a thin layer of gold on the outside, though she doubted very much that someone like this would be able to tell the difference.

Plenty of jewelry on the top layer, though. Bracers and crowns and necklaces and diadems, each apparently the work of a master craftsman. Really they were reproductions of historical pieces Forerunner had made in a fabricator and a reduction furnace, but the regent didn’t need to know that.

Olivia stepped back, getting out of the tiny creature’s way as he hurried over to her cart. The sooner I get my stupid plastic leg back, the better. “I heard the command to bring half of all we have to give as tribute to our new king,” she said. “I couldn’t bring half, but I brought as much as I could carry.”

If the little creature had noticed the inconsistencies in her story, he made no sign. Instead he turned over the tray of gold and jewels, selecting a necklace from the top of the pile and trying it on. “You said your family has more? They wouldn’t have anything sweet, would they? You should see what these miners eat.”

Oliva settled into place between the regent and the door. “If it’s sweets you want, we could probably arrange that.” She stepped closer, so that she was within reach of the creature. He still didn’t notice, overwhelmed with what she was showing him. “Is this really what you wanted to do in Motherlode?” Olivia asked, her voice no longer quavering with weakness.

“Not here,” the little creature said, sliding the bracelets onto his stubby arms one after another. “I thought after everything I’d done for Tempest, maybe I would get one of the bigger cities, you know? But someone has to be punished for losing Flurry—” He trailed off, eyes suddenly sharp. “You can go, pony. The Storm King accepts your tribute.”

She didn’t move. “I don’t like what you’re doing to Motherlode,” she said. “None of the ponies do. I think you might like living here better if you were a little more agreeable.” She watched him closely, particularly all those little muscles on his face. When he stiffened, she knew what would happen next. “Now, Forerunner.” She didn’t have to tell him what she meant—there were a dozen cameras in here.

The necklace tightened around his neck with the slight whir of a servo, and whatever he was about to scream was strangled. The creature thumped to one side, grasping in vain at the necklace. Bits of gold flaked away under his grip, but the titanium cable inside didn’t even scratch under his claws. “You know, that jewelry was my way of smuggling weapons in here. I didn’t think you’d put it on yourself.” She walked away from him, right over to the door, and she gently slid the lock across. No interruptions until we’re finished.

Then she walked up to him, watching as he struggled in vain to breathe. His face was already changing color. He’d drawn a dagger from his belt in a shaky grip, though with his air strangled he hadn’t managed to use it for anything. “I’m going to let you breathe,” she said, her face right over his. “If you call for help, I’m going to strangle you again. Do you understand?”

She waited for a nod before signaling to Forerunner again. She stepped just out of his reach, not that she feared what he would be able to do with the weapon. But if she had to disarm him, that would make noise. “Cursed… jewelry?” he asked, through hacking coughs. “You thought you could get away… with cursing me? Do you have any idea…”

She sat down on her haunches, watching him. “I can kill you before you call for help,” she said, as flatly as she could. “There’s nothing you can do to get that off.”

“Doesn’t matter.” The regent sat up, resting his back against the cart. “You can’t… threaten me. The Storm King has given us immortality. I’ll just return to him, tell him what I saw.”

Olivia would’ve taken that for the ramblings of a zealot, except that she knew just how easy it would be for his words to be true. You shouldn’t have told me that. I hope you’re listening too, Forerunner.

“Maybe so,” she said. “But I don’t have to kill you.” She moved in a flash, her enhanced speed taking her across the distance between them so fast he didn’t even move. She smashed down on his arm gripping the dagger, twisting just hard enough to make him drop it. She caught it against her other hoof, pressing it up against his gut. “Go ahead, scream. See what happens.”

Despite his confidence, the regent didn’t fight back. He froze completely, staring down at the knife in horror. He spoke in a voice just above a whisper. “What… do you want?”

She moved away from him, sliding the knife away along the floor and releasing her pressure on his chest. “Simple. I want you to back off Motherlode. I want you to take your men, get back into that train, and forget you were ever here.”

“Not… possible,” he said. “The Storm King sent us here. Not Las Pegasus, not Trottingham, here. If I don’t send regular reports from your telegraph station, he’ll do worse things to me than you could.”

You aren’t very good at this, are you? “Then maybe we could help each other. Motherlode isn’t what you think it is, uh… what’s your name?”

“Grubber.”

Of course it is. “Well, Grubber, I think this relationship could be very different. I think you need to tell all your soldiers to stop going through ponies’ homes. Just think about how much work you’re doing—how much trouble it would be to keep Motherlode in line.”

“One pony with cursed jewelry… not that hard. The Storm King will be happy to meet you.”

She ignored the threat, lifting him bodily and carrying him to the chair. She set him down, and spun it around so it was facing out.

City hall had a spectacular view, not just of the city but the mountains all around. “Forerunner, tell the marksmen to come out of active camouflage. Give Grubber here a second to see them.”

Metallic figures appeared suddenly, on distant peaks and near, dark patches that stood out only for a moment against the mountains before they vanished again.

“Your army is only here because I choose to let it stay here,” she said. “I can capture them without killing them, don’t think it would be difficult. But there’s another option. If you don’t want torture, we could give you and your soldiers the most comfortable post you ever had. Nobody has to get hurt, nobody has to fight, and nobody has to work, either. Isn’t that what you deserve?”

Grubber was silent for a long time. He glanced out the window, tugged on the necklace, met her hard eyes. “I want cake.”

Next Chapter: Part 2: Message and Messenger Estimated time remaining: 7 Hours, 41 Minutes