"Chairman." The minotaur raised a brow. "Chairman Force?"

Force lifted an ear, looking up from his maps. "What is it?"

"There is a call for a counsel. The rest of the council has concerns. Forming the TSDI was supposed to isolate the Americans, but they've formed the--"

"EFC," grunted Chairman Force, clenching a fist. "I'm aware of it."

"Yes, of course, sir. The council has requested a meeting to discuss it." He bowed, hand going wide. "What should I tell them?"

"Tell them we'll handle this... The EFC will learn that America will make for a poor shield." He put his elbows on his desk, bringing his hands together. "They'll soon realize how terrible of a choice they've made."

Crane: (Hello everyone.)

Tim22: Woah. (He knows it.)

J22D: (I) told you.

MeowMeow: Hiya! Do you really know it all? All of it?!

Crane: Last I was told, it can only be taught personally.

MeowMeow: That isn't true. I didn't know (Hi), but I learned that.

Tim22: He's talking about the Illuminati Effect.

J22D: Yeah, written stuff goes back to not English after a while, super weird.

Crane did not entirely understand it. Written English became Ponish, but people could learn it? How had it wiped everyone's memory in the first place? Had it been a one time only event? Dare he dream? He tapped at the keyboard, taking part in the discussion about things.

It seemed clear many of the participants, though eager to learn more, were also a bit detached from things. Many had crazy theories. It only hurt that he didn't have a better proposal to replace it with. He was still pretty sure it didn't involve any shadowy cabals or lizard people...

It wasn't dragons, at least. He felt sure of that.

Still, they wanted to learn, so he asked, typing, "Do you want to learn (English)?"

Four yesses, a maybe, and two nahs. His class size had already grown infinitely larger overnight. "Let's learn."

The EFC grew. With it, international copyright and patent (The difference of the two having to be explained to the non-American parties) laws became standard between them, though only America had such lengthy periods that copyright would persist. Most of the others thought twenty to thirty years (approximately 200 moons) was more than enough time for a creative person to get their chance at profit before it became public domain.

Still, they all agreed to abide and honor one another's laws, which meant that creatives that wanted longer copyright terms could register it in America if they had the means and wherewithal to do so before releasing the work elsewhere.

The concept of documentation began to spread, with countries issuing their own version of a passport to identify their citizens when abroad. Rules for all members of the EFC to carry such a thing when visiting abroad started to become commonplace through all the nations involved.

The world, so vast and mysterious, had become just a little smaller. Trips to other countries were picking up, as they became less of a strange and far away place. They followed the same basic laws and belonged to the same over-organization, which lent comfort to the natives that were used to only trusting their own.

"Happy happy to be here," assured the Lutrai Queen, Ruddertail, to Rason in the Oval Office. "You are not king I talked to before, but you are just as nice. Very happy." She offered a furry hand towards him. "Do you swim more than he did? He did not wish to."

"Perhaps another time." He accepted the hand, shaking firmly with Ruddertail. "Tell me, do you know the population of your country? It seems censuses are not a popular thing in this world."

Ruddertail folded her arms and tapped a hoof with a clicking of her claws on the ground. "Mmm. We count, yes, of course. How do we collect taxes without count? No taxes, not much done. Serious serious, but needed." Her whiskers raised in a smile. "You think we not good at serious. We speak funny to you. Is alright, you speak funny to us. Understand, yes?"

Rason did not hide his surprise. "Equestrians don't have good numbers. Do they not collect taxes?" He had wondered if perhaps they just didn't.

"Ponies worse at serious than we are, yes? Sometimes... Each city different, is strange. Some count, some do not count. Collect taxes differently, all different. Strange, not serious serious." She raised a lone finger. "Prefer not serious serious, but serious is needed sometimes."

He had learned something new, still... "So what is the population of your country, if you don't mind sharing?"

"You show, then I show?" she proposed with a silly grin.

"Last I checked, Three hundred and twenty seven--"

"Thousand? Tens, hundreds of thousands?"

Rason had to smile at that. "Million."

Ruddertail's eyes widened at the staggering number of people. "You make me feel small." She held up two pudgy hands close together. "No wonder you track everyone. You must, or people would get lost all the time. How do you even remember yourself with so many others?"

"Practice." It was more literally true for him than others. He had to learn himself to become Rason, who was also a changeling. "Your turn."

"Oh, yes, yes yes! I did promise." She raised three fingers. "Only this many millions. Not exact, close."

"Still more than I would have guessed." The Equestrians had fielded thousands and thought it was a mighty military force. It had not left an impression of any great population densities. Then again... "How spread out are these three million?"

Ruddertail shook her head and paws. "Enough of that. You want talk numbers, talk with number keeper. I am queen. I make laws. I talk to other rulers, like you. That is my job. I sign treaty, join EFC with ponies and humans and yaks."

"No offense intended, I assure, but you understand all that it entails?" It was so easy to assume Ruddertail was a cute but influential otter that Rason didn't feel entirely confident.

"Serious serious," she scowled at him as she hissed the words. "Time for play, time for work. Read whole thing, back and forth and back again. We help."

Rason's left brow raised at the claim. "Help?"

"Yes help." She bobbed her head. "Clear, if attacked, help. We help, ready."

Wait... "You have a standing army?" Was it like the ponies, perhaps, or the yaks? Imagining a bunch of fuzzy semi-aquatic warriors did not inspire confidence.

She held up all eight fingers. "More than this many thousands," she proudly declared. "Will help, keep promise. Storm King not attack us, because he is not, was not, stupid. Maybe little stupid, but not stupid enough to come for us." She brought one of her hands to her face, stroking at her chin and whiskers. "How lose to ponies, still not sure. Good for them."

Doing quick math in his head, fingers flexing a little in the process, he came to a startling realization. Though the Lutrai were smaller, they were about as equally militarized, in density, as America. Queen Ruddertail was the proud leader of, at least locally speaking, mighty warrior people. "We'll rest easier, knowing we have your support."

"And real warriors, not guard warriors," she pointed out. "Guard warrior not same."

Hoku raised his rifle, its butt squarely planted against his shoulder. Despite the protection he wore, he could hear each shot with a sharp crack, then holes appeared in the target down the field. He didn't have time to go check it, yet. He fired at the same target, then switched his aim towards another target further down the field, pouring two bullets into it, then a third. Into each, two bullets.

"Alright." A hand came down on his shoulder. Hoku lowered his rifle down and away. "Let's see how you did. Put that down and check."

Hoku hung up his rifle carefully and scurried out across the field to grab the target papers, not even looking at them yet. He'd already gotten in trouble once for loitering on the firing field, and would not repeat that mistake. He looped back around and dashed for the firing booth he started in, leaping athletically up onto the window that separated it from the firing range and coming down on the safe side. "Here."

The drill sergeant accepted the sheets. "Use the door next time." His words didn't have the caustic acid that meant he was well and truly angry. He held up each sheet, examining the imaginary wounds the otter soldier would have inflicted on someone, had it been an actual person. "Mmm. I've seen worse." He tossed the papers aside. "Looks like you're not white anymore."

Hoku's face lit up, whiskers lifting. "I pass?"

"You pass. Prepare for advanced individual training. You'll get to use more serious machinery that can tear a man apart, or yourself if you don't pay attention." He pointed off towards the barracks. "You'll also start heavy teamwork and survival training. Be prepared. For now, dismissed."

Hoku clapped his hands with a cheering woop before he composed himself enough to properly salute, then dash off in an excited tizzy. He was entering the blue phase, the last phase before he became a real soldier, a warrior of America.

Strolling in her feline form, the she-cat that was also a changeling approached the desk. "I have vital intelligence for your people," she smoothly purred. "It concerns the EFC."

The minotaur behind the desk looked up from his work at the cat. "Hm? If you want to inform us, feel free to submit it in writing." He pushed forward a blank paper with a bored expression. "I'll advance it to where it needs to be."

"This is far too important for that." She leaned against the desk, resting her hip on it with a sultry smile on her face. "Besides, I'd like a little compensation for the danger I went through to get it, so if you'd kindly get someone here to listen to what I have to say, or..." She could see him getting annoyed. "You can be the one to explain how the EFC got the drop on your coalition with what could have been avoided, if some secretary had done their job. Your decision."

The bull snorted powerfully. "Let me see if anyone is available." He picked up a phone and circled the pad, calling someone with a few swishes of the dialing pad. "Hello, Sir. I have someone here that claims to have military intel. Ah huh. Abyssinian. Uh huh. Of course, Sir. Right away." He set the phone down. "Go upstairs, door #3 on the right. Wait there."

The cat pushed off the desk with a smirk of a smile. "That wasn't too hard. I'll let you get back to your important work." She strolled triumphantly into the minotaur compound, confident that she would get what she came for.

She had to wait, possibly the worst part. Minutes passed by with the slowness of inching ice.

She heard someone grabbing the handle of the door and her eyes were on it instantly. It opened inwards to reveal a sharply dressed bull. Not the chairman, they wouldn't send him to hear a random intel report. "Good afternoon. I'm told you have something worth hearing?"

"You should close that." And he did, the door clicking behind him. "They're planning an attack, but I know where from, and if you catch them with their pants down, you can take a real bite out of their forces before they're close to mustered."

His right hand clenched powerfully, but that was the only hint of his agitation. "Where is your proof?"

"I was hoping you'd ask." She casually pulled a few photos from her chest and spread them out on a small table that adorned the mostly blank room. "Here they are, preparing."

They were photos of the average military camp, but military camps of America looked frightfully busy at any time of the year about. By themselves, the proved nothing, but with the proper context... "They seem to be readying the bombs they can throw a long way. I was almost shot just getting close enough to get these... I will be compensated, I trust?"

Author's Notes:

To remind, that scene with the exposed Chrysalis is in the future. We have not arrived at that timeline yet. Something to look forward to!

Heading to TFF, a furry con I am dealing/vending at. I hope to keep the words flowing.

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