“Munro,” Dim barked, his voice hoarse and raspy. “Walk beside me, not behind me.”

Almost tripping over himself, the young minotaur calf hurried forwards, his long frock coat flowing out behind him and revealing the shiny nickel pistol that hung at his waist. His hooves clattered against the scuffed, battered floor and workers scattered to make way for the well-armed procession that bustled through.

More cries of sphinx could be heard, much to Dim’s annoyance. Blackbird was big, to be sure, but she looked nothing like a sphinx. The disgusting primitives needed better taxonomy lessons, but he didn’t have the time nor the inclination to school them. What was so bad about sphinxes, anyhow? So what if they liked to ask a few questions? Everything that Dim had read suggested that sphinxes were excellent conversationalists if you were learned.

If you were stupid, you might get eaten, so that might have something to do with it.

“Somebody beat the boss bloody,” a nearby voice with a thick Windian accent said.

“The boss is an asshole,” another voice with an even thicker foreign accent replied.

Ahead, an open elevator awaited.

“I suppose I have to begin with an apology,” a warm, friendly voice said as the elevator doors opened. “So, very well, I apologise.” The accent was thick, not quite Fancy, but more like the Sugar Sea Islands, the area around Tortoise-Tuga. “I warned him to be on his best behaviour. I am beset with problems, as you no doubt already know.”

Lord Chanson Argentée was a stunning shade of seafoam green with a striking mane and tail of what appeared to be the purest silver. His mane and tail he wore long, and his fetlocks too, had perfectly coiffed silver locks. A silken night-blue kimono hung from his well-muscled frame and half-moon glasses adorned his face.

Hiding beneath him was a shy filly and she shared his appearance, save for his horn.

Dim was glad that he had ordered the guards to stay behind, with their bloodied weapons. He was the first out of the elevator and Munro remained beside him. A few steps into the ornate hallway, Dim paused to study Lord Chanson Argentée, and in return, was studied. The two unicorns sized each other up and Dim’s initial impression was that he was dealing with an equal.

“Prince Dim, of Istanbull… welcome to my humble abode. Just down the hall is my apartment. Please, all of you, join me and we’ll break bread together. This is my daughter, Argentée Sonnet, and she just would not go off with her mother on this day of days. I assure you, she is very well behaved, and doesn’t bite… much. Sonnet is shy and doesn’t like leaving the apartment.”

Much to Dim’s surprise, he laughed.

“Pâté au Poulet, Bombay Sable, Motte and Bailey, so good to see you again. Going to Istanbull was quite an adventure, yes? How is Princess Eerie? Do come, all of you! This hallway is drafty and it messes something awful with Sonnet’s asthma.”

To Dim’s further surprise, he found himself charmed; Lord Chanson had a silver tongue.

The apartment was the furthest from palatial that one could think of. Everything was stark, austere, and utilitarian. No conspicuous consumption here, no blinding displays of wealth, no great fortune had been spent to decorate this place. It was almost oppressive, and would have had it not been for the paintings, which were wild, cheery things with frantic splashes of colour. In the corner, there was an artist’s easel that was just about the right height for a filly, and there was a paint-spattered step stool in front of it.

Warm, clean air wafted down from overhead vents and Dim found that he could breathe a little easier in here. Overall, he liked this place and found that it said an awful lot about its owner. Chanson stood by an oaken table that would have been right at home in some peasant’s hovel and it appeared that quite a spread was laid out. Dim ignored most of it, but kept his eyes on the prize; a wide selection of cheeses.

“Come, join me,” Chanson said to his guests.

For the cheeses alone, Dim would have made the trip, and the wine was just a bonus. Some kind of opera played in the background, something in Fancy that Dim could not understand, but found beautiful anyway. After listening for a while, he decided that he did not need to understand it to appreciate it. After a few weeks in the air, it felt good to spread out again, to sprawl out, to have the room to dine in leisure.

“I fear the city is coming apart,” Chanson said as he topped off a few wine glasses. “My suspicions tell me that one, maybe several, of the city’s lords are working with these Ascendancy types. A sentiment of unicorn superiourity has swept through the city like a devouring fire while at the same time the cry for equality has reached a fever pitch. Workers keep going on strike, and in return, the unicorn lords are finding new and devious ways to bring harm to their workers. There are daily riots and for the first time in my life, I actually fear revolution.”

Chewing his cheese, Dim nodded.

“As for myself, I am under siege and my credibility is being attacked. Wild rumours and speculation abound around the fact that Sonnet is an earth pony, and my enemies are trying to undermine my position by saying that my beloved wife should stand trial for adultery. She is not well liked, my wife, as she is an islander and her ways are strange. I had no idea when I returned home with her that sexual attitudes were regressing. It has been a real trial, I tell you. Even my zebra assistant has been accused of using hexes and bad hoodoo against my rivals, some of which have fallen ill and have even died due to some suspicious circumstances.”

“You were the governor of an island for a while, as I recall,” Bailey said with a nod of thanks. The stout mare smiled and lifted up a small bunch of grapes. “You met your wife there?”

“Yes.” Chanson seemed relieved to have changed the subject. “My beloved Pearl Fisher.” The silver-maned unicorn sighed and sent his forelock fluttering in the breeze he created. “From the first time I laid eyes on her, I knew I had to have her, but she wanted nothing to do with me. She was an islander and I… was one of the colonisers. I was forced to go about earning her respect and doing things the hard way. She made me strive to be a better pony.”

“Where is she now and why isn’t she here with us?” Bailey asked.

“She is with her students, and they come first. Even ahead of necessary affairs of state. My wife has taken her life as an islander and all of the hardship that said life entails and she has turned herself into a fine history teacher. There are those that wish that she did not teach her lessons, but she persists. Aside from history, she also teaches music, art, the equinities, and magic.”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Dim began and he was hesitant to continue. “Why did you vacate your position as governor? Why return here, to this place?”

“Why, I did the worst thing in the world, Dim.” Chanson grinned while leaning forwards. “I negotiated to return the land to the ponies and creatures who held rightful claim to it. We’ll do funny, dreadful things for love. One day, no doubt, you’ll find yourself doing things you’d never imagined for love… maybe even things that other ponies might whisper as being treasonous to the better interests of your nation.”

Though Dim thought about it, he said nothing about how those islands had fallen to pirates and raiders. They were now a major part of the existing slave trade. Once the major powers had given up colonial claims, pirates and raiders moved in to prey upon the once prosperous territories. The rape and plunder of the former colonies was something that much of the civilised world turned a blind eye to.

Dim’s thoughts were interrupted by the Bard, who changed the topic of conversation and the mood. “Are Grogar’s agents in the city? Eerie tasked me with finding out as much as I could.”

“Probably.” Chanson shrugged. “I was approached by them and offered much for my cooperation. They know my word carries weight. I suspect that other noble families might have taken them up on their offer. If you want more information about them, I’d advise that you seek out the cultist compound. Off to the north, if you follow the northern spoke road, you will find the compound eventually.”

“Cultist compound?” The Bard’s eyebrow raised.

“Mostly zebras. Cultists. Some of the nicest creatures you will ever meet. They take in the infirm, the invalids, and the elderly. Care for them until their life plays out, and then, as they lay dying, these cultists stare into their eyes hoping to catch a glimpse of Death’s reflection.”

“Well,” the Bard replied, “that’s not creepy at all.”

“The zebras love a good mystery. You know how they are. I find myself admiring these cultists. They provide a valuable service and ask for so little in return. You should go there and talk to them, as they will probably have some sort of information on both the Ascendancy and Grogar’s agents.”

“I suppose that is a good place to start.” Reaching up, the Bard began rubbing his chin while he lifted his wine glass with his free fetlock.

“To help you, I secured a wagon for you, one of the best that money can buy. Modern materials. Has a fold up tent top and everything. It will help you travel the countryside, which is incomprehensibly vast. Talk to the farmers. Speak to the cultists. I am positive that answers can be found. If something can be done about these external sources of contention, I am certain that I can restore stability back to the great city of Gasconeigh.”

“You don’t have powerful wizards in this city, do you?” Blackbird, who had been silent this whole time, now turned her hawkish gaze upon Chanson. “You have unicorns, sure, but they’re not like Dim. That’s why you can’t deal with this threat on your own? You’re completely outclassed?”

Chanson did not respond right away, but when he did, it was a soft, shamed whisper. “I am a wizard of no small ability, but all my gifts are suited for negotiation, diplomacy, and governance. We are a city of clever magical tinkerers, brilliant artists and engineers, and while we excel in the magical arts, not a one of us can hold a candle to Dim. The most powerful caster in the city isn’t even a unicorn, but an Abyssinian. He battles sewer monsters so they don’t overrun the city.”

“So uh…”—Blackbird hesitated for a moment and by the strained expression upon her face, Dim could see that she was trying to be diplomatic—“I guess you’ve placed a lot of trust in Eerie. I mean, somepony like Dim could just waltz right into the city and take over. We all saw what he did to those guards, and I know all of us are thinking about it right now. You’re in a tight spot, Channing—”

“Chanson,” the soft-spoken lord said to Blackbird.

“Right, Chanson. Sorry. To deal with the threats to the city, you had to call in somepony who was just as much of a threat to the city and then hope that they do right. That’s a tough spot to be in. If it makes you feel any better, and I hope it does, but I trust Dim with my life. True story, he decimated a city’s army, like, actual decimation, or maybe it could be called a wholesale slaughter… I’m not sure. Anyhow, Dim razed a city to protect me. Maybe not razed? The technical terms for what he did elude me. But I feel safe with him!”

The gulp that came from Chanson was quite audible.

Blackbird smiled. “It’s a good thing we’re the good guys, right?”

Author's Notes:

Originally, this and the previous chapter were one, but I decided to break them up.