Spirits ran high at the party once the ceremony was over. The benches surrounding the altar were pushed aside, leaving the apartment block’s courtyard free for all those who felt like dancing. Chiefly, a group of locals made up entirely of Ornithians who began dancing to the tune of guitars. It was a fast-paced routine, one that quickly shifted from ground to airborne dancing in a veritable whirlwind of colors borne both of the parrot’s naturally colorful plumage and their kitsch fashion sense.

A crowd quickly amassed on the edges of the courtyard. Stranded tourists, locals, sailors, all applauding at the display, drinks held in paws, claw and talons, or cradled between their hooves, laughing. The crowd was an eclectic mix of parrots and hippogriffs from Cuba, the mostly equine folks from America and Canada, and other miscellaneous species that made up the WSU fleet. This was an odd sight to see, a colorful bunch of scales, fur and feathers mingling casually.

All concerns of monsters, roving wild dogs and being on the wrong end of the world in the wrong body were cast aside for the evening. This was not the time to mope around in self-pity, this was the time to enjoy oneself and get to talk freely whilst Aleksei’s translation ward was still active.

Night soon fell over the apartment block, and soon a couple sailors took it upon them to go and fetch a couple generators to get the current running. The lights came on with a loud cheer, and soon a stream of partygoers took it upon themselves to reactivate amenities. Fridges were gathered to keep their drinks chilled, someone fetched a water tanker from Amandine’s holds and plugged it into the plumbing, speakers lined up the courtyard, and most of all...

Alcohol flowed freely. Beer kegs and buckets’ worth of ice cubes had and were still being brought to the venue by a constant stream of arrivals who dropped off their ‘offerings’ at the ‘bar’, which really was just an apartment on the ground floor in which they had rolled more fridges. Groups would drop by there and grab a few bottles before they snuck off towards the upper floors to enjoy some privacy.

The veterans were one such group, at least once Sri managed to escape the many partygoers who were curious about her conversion to Celtic faith and subsequent visit to the Otherworld. The Indonesian hippogriff now found herself on the balcony of an apartment in the upper floor, looking down at the dancers in the courtyard, beer in hand.

“So how does it feel?” Artyom joined her, the dragon casually propping his arms against the railing, sipping from a beer of his own.

“Better. Much better.” She beamed, tucking a crest feather behind her ear with a talon. Her wing fluttered happily. “It’s… worlds apart from how I felt before.”

“You do behave more...” He hesitated.

“Femininely?” She smiled.

He nodded. Behind the two, Scarface and Bart listened on curiously. The two were seated at a table in the kitchen, their card game momentarily forgotten.

“You know… I got to meet Epona in person. And that… it was like a mother’s embrace, if you can understand? I saw her, and I knew everything was going to be alright, that I didn’t have to be ashamed of what I had become, female.” She sighed wistfully. “So I asked her something.”

“And what would that be?”

“I only asked her to make me more feminine. More comfortable.” She kept on smiling. “And it feels good. Really good.”

Artyom’s look turned into a slight frown. His red eyes swept over her, cautious.

“Sri…" He searched for words. “I don’t mean anything bad, but…”

“I promise I’m still the same Sri you’ve come to know. It’s alright guys.” She turned away from the balcony. “I just wanted to make sure the inside matched the outside. I’m the same person, just like any of the genderswapped folks. I only asked Epona to help me be more comfortable because I was having difficulties with it.”

The other three stared at her in mild disbelief.

“It’s true I swear!” She insisted. “Don’t look at me like I’m just going to ditch the fighting and sailing and become some sort of stay-at-home wife. That ain’t it.”

“I hope. We need you on the team, buddy.” Artyom joked, giving her a playful punch in the shoulder. “Can’t have a fourth of the team just up and drop the job.”

“And I won’t.” She punched him back with a grin. “I’ll just behave more like a gal than a guy for a change, nothing wrong with that. I’m not going to delude myself like Aleksei is.” She explained, jerking her head towards where their dear cleric was.

There she was in a corner of the courtyard below their balcony. The tall and curvaceous hippogriff appeared to be chatting with that demigod that had appeared, Morvarc’h.

“Deluded you say?” Artyom was mildly curious.

“Yep. As deluded as they get.” Sri downed the rest of her beer and went to get another from the crate. “Epona told me. She’s got a quest to find her masculinity again by going to some black forest or some such. Even took a magic oath to make sure she never gives up.” She shook her head slightly. “I know my legends. Those never end well. I can respect being so driven… but at that point it’s just gonna bite her in the ass.”

Saying that she trotted to the living room and dropped on the couch with her wings spread wide, hooves crossed in a gesture that did something she hadnever done prior: show off her body.

“You think she’s bound to fail then?” Scarface spoke up, cards now completely forgotten.

“Maybe, maybe not.” Sri shrugged. “She could actually pull it off for all I know. You can fight fate if you try hard enough, just… it won’t be pleasant, and it comes at a cost. My thoughts? She deserves as much praise for her determination as she does pity, ‘cause it’s honestly easier to fix the mental…” She tapped a talon against the side of her head. “... than it is to change the physical. That and I’m pretty sure Epona doesn’t want her to succeed.”

Artyom was still standing on the balcony, looking at Aleksei with renewed interest. She was still chatting with that demigod Morvarc’h, but now the humongous Earth Pony stallion had put a hoof over her shoulders, a confident smile on his muzzle.

“Looks like Epona ain’t the only one to think she’s better off female.” The blue dragon laughed wryly.

Aleksei was doing her level-best to ignore the demigod’s antics. It seemed like the opportunity of mingling with society -not as a mute stallion but as an intelligent pony- had made him quite a bit cockier than when she’d first met him in the Otherworld.

Every so often, he would throw some ponies a wink or a grin while he kept his hoof over her shoulders and waved at groups that passed by as they enjoyed the music. She wriggled away from his grasp. Third time now.

“You’re a tactile stallion, aren’t you?” She commented, tone flat.

“Believe me lady Klavins, the more time you spend dead, equine afterlife or not, the more you get to appreciate the warmth of the living.” The large stallion was smiling from ear to ear, still speaking Breton. “There are many delights to be found exploring the Otherworld, as many as you’d find peculiarities… but… I really love my mother’s decision of having me come back as one of those...”

“Ponies?”

“Aye.” He grinned. “In all of my previous lives, I was but an animal. Intelligent, sure, but not allowed to mingle with humans as their equal. This… to be able to partake in such a manner… to go to parties… this is a first. A rare thing for a creature like me.”

“So I take it you never tasted alcohol?” She joked.

Morvarc’h blinked.

“No. No, I reckon I have not.”

“Then let’s correct that shall we?” She offered, prying his hoof off her shoulders -again- and stretching her wings as she motioned for him to follow her to the bar.

In passing, she did her best to pay attention to what was going on around her. She didn’t miss the way the veterans were observing her from their balcony, but… there was more to the party than them. Her ears twitched, catching snippers of discussions from all over the courtyard. People had been paying attention during her little ceremony and sermon, and now she overheard them discuss the pros and cons of Celtic values, the merits in converting...

Exactly what she wanted. That, and Morvarc’h’s appearance through the portal had really driven it home that this was the real deal. More than her spells and wards could have done on their own.

Give deities like the Dagda and the Morrigan enough time to assemble proper scripture to spread the religion further, and they’d be far from short on followers.

Though…

She should have suspected it. She should have foreseen it. But… she was pretty damn certain the wards set around the venue also made the partygoers horny. Blame being a fertility cleric for that.

Some groups had come with kids and were rather tame. Micha and Vadim for instance were just holding each other a bit more tightly than usual as they watched Andy try to imitate the parrot dancers that were still performing. Others however… more than once Aleksei spotted groups on balconies indulging in non family-friendly activities while others were mingling around the venue, openly flirting, looking for partners that may be as curious as they were about the ‘properties’ of their new bodies.

In one case she even saw a Pegasus stallion (stranded tourist, most likely, and genderswapped judging by the body language) be dragged into a bedroom by a group of four mares.

By comparison, Morvarc’h repeatedly laying his hoof over her shoulders was extremely tame.

“I take it you noticed as well?” Said stallion whispered in her ear when they reached the bar.

“Is that even normal?”

“Given it’s you who made the spells and wards?” He rumbled. “Of course it is.”

“Great.” Aleksei drawled. “I just organized an orgy.”

The insides of the bar were a hive of activity with groups coming and going to resupply on beer and hard liquor, some already with a drunken stumble to their step while others, more sobers, brought in yet another pallet laden with kegs. What used to be a mere apartment now found itself with fridges lining the walls and crates of beer stacked up to the ceiling.

She was pretty sure neither her or the vets had brought it here. In fact the engine noises outside the apartment block implied more was being delivered now that the news of a party was spreading through the entire colony.

Deciding not to dwell on it too much, she swiped a pair of ice buckets off a table and loaded them up with a few bottles of rum she felt might be appropriate for Morv’. The stallion was there outside the bar, waiting patiently for her. She waved her claw at him, and he followed suit. They left the bustling courtyard in favor of the interior of the building, going up a stairway to seek out one of the few free apartments that remained.

“You calling this party an orgy proves you’ve never witnessed one. Believe me, clerics of your domain can do much more… heated parties than this one. I’ve seen kids around. It’s fine. What I’m seeing here is just people unwinding. I wonder how many of them were like Sri.”

“Like?”

“Returnees stuck on the wrong end of the gender barrier that weren’t comfortable with their situation.” He elaborated, the stallion giving her a pointed look.

“I’m not uncomfortable. I don’t see the need to bother being feminine since your mother gave me a quest to become male.” Aleksei refuted.

She stopped on the first floor and tried a door. Nope. Apartment already taken and used to repopulate the planet. She slammed the door shut, sheepish. Better luck one floor up.

Waiting by the staircase, Morvarc’h had a mirthful look in his eyes.

“You know it’s not the kind of quest she actually wants you to succeed at?” He pointed out.

“You know I took a geas to ensure that I did?” She fired back, walking past him and up the staircase.

“That I do!” He laughed out loud. “Brilliant too! You should have seen the sour look on her muzzle when you left. She did not expect that!” He stopped and took on a more serious look. “Careful though, geas don’t necessarily turn out the way you expect them to.”

Aleksei stopped as well, the two of them now standing in the middle of the stairs.

“Is that a threat?”

“A warning.” He corrected, and the two resumed their ascension. The next apartment was abandoned, and they swiftly claimed it.“Don’t get me wrong, mother is pretty fair to her followers and rarely bedazzles them, much less her clerics. She’s no Toutatis, she doesn’t have that kind of ruthlessness in her, but...”

“She’s still a divinity. I get it.” Aleksei sighed, closing the apartment’s door behind her before the two made for the living room. She dropped the ice buckets on the coffee table with a clatter. Finally free from her load, she allowed herself a quick look around.

The apartment was simple, as were many habitations in Havana: a single living room with some kitchen space, a bathroom and a bedroom, a small utility closet, and the balcony overlooking the courtyard, music and party noises still streaming in, distant. Months of abandonment made it so that a fine layer of dust covered the furniture, but the rot she would have expected from the kitchen space was absent. The fridge had already been reclaimed for the bar, and what food might have been there had been cleaned out months ago when survivors scoured the city for food.

Otherwise, its looks were customary of old buildings and furniture that was likely older than she was. The paint was cracked, the floorboards bent and the plumbing a bit rusty… but she was here to enjoy her evening, not to spend the year.

Decent enough for her purposes. She quickly retrieved a set of glasses from the kitchen, thanked the functioning plumbing for letting her clean them, and then plopped down on the couch next to Morv’, a great plume of dust rose up and the springs creaked in protest.

“Say, what if we just dropped the gloom and got to enjoy the occasion for what it’s worth? I got to make you try rum, you said you never tried alcohol?” She asked him, reaching to grab a bottle from one of the ice buckets.

“So what is it?”

“Havana Club, seven years. The middle range of the family. Not my favorite, but ideal for a newbie like you.” She smirked. “Call it the local drink. People here produce a lot of sugarcane, and rum is the alcohol you get from fermenting the molasse. It’s good, try it out.”

“I don’t really have hands or claws like you to pick up the glass.”

“Oh come off it. If it’s an attempt to have me give you your drink it ain’t working. Earth ponies have no problem picking stuff up with their hooves.” She rolled her eyes.

“Worth a shot.” His red eyes twinkled in amusement. He reached out with a hoof, silently marvelling at the increased range of movement an Earth Pony had over regular equines. It still was a mystery how his species could pick up items with one flat, fingerless hoof, but the glass remained stuck to it, allowing him to take his first sip of alcohol. He swirled the liquid in his mouth for a few seconds before he swallowed. An appreciative smile dawned on his muzzle. “Not bad, not bad at all. It’s… odd. The warmth I mean, but I like it. I really do.”

“Glad to know that. It’s your first time drinking so I didn’t take too many bottles, should be enough for the two of us.”

Too bad she was wrong on which of the two was going to be having problems with the drink.

All around the apartment block, the party carried on well into the night, a much bigger thing than the veterans or Aleksei ever expected it would be. Folks from all around the city drifted towards the apartment block… but they weren’t the entire population.

Like it or not, security had to be maintained and not everyone could partake in the event. Havanans and sailors alike still had to make sure generators were running properly and that the security perimeters around their facilities were maintained. And there were many sectors in need of security around town.

Angelo was among those unlucky few still on guard duty, and close enough to overhear the music coming from the venue. He didn’t mind though: it was pretty much guaranteed he’d get the chance to catch some R&R of his own at some point.

Cuba hardly had any problems as far as monsters were concerned, and what few dogs that still showed their snouts in town could be quickly driven away with a shot fired over their heads or with a flare. Frankly put, the teams on guard duty were too large given the current threat level, but it also meant he could address more pressing matters while stuck on guard duty.

And by pressing matters, he meant stripping train engines.

Havana had a bit of a problem with its electric grid: not enough connections, too many habitation blocks, and poor makeshift generators made from car engines. Fixing the city grid would have to wait, but they already had plans to make up for the lack of generators. Plans that had come from a nearby rail yard.

Diesel-electric train engines could produce a pretty decent wattage. Nothing compared to a cargo vessel’s output, of course, but one train engine alone was enough to power its fair share of households, and they definitely were more efficient and got more runtime out of their parts than a car engine would if used to drive an alternator.

And thus, a dozen old blue train engines had been carted off the rails and to the cruise terminal to be converted into generators they’d spread around the city and modify for optimal use. Add a couple fuel filters to make them able to run on dirty diesel, modify and simplify the controls since they only needed to run at constant outputs for prolonged periods, add an air compressor to facilitate automation, plan for equipping them each with service tanks the locals could refuel from a centralized fuel depot (probably in the fort if they couldn’t fix any of the shore tanks near the destroyed refinery)… it wasn’t a very complicated process, but heavy engineering like that still ate up time like no one’s business.

Even with his minotaur strength helping things along, mind. Angelo had no trouble lifting parts that would have required a crane before his transformation (in fact he had yet to resort to magic to boost his strength), but there were still a lot of train parts to remove or electrical components to rewire.

“Eh Carlos, can you give me a hand over there with the wiring?” He called over his shoulder. “Can’t make sense of this diagram over here.”

“You tell me boss.” The cockatoo clicked his beak from the opposite side of the engine they were stripping. “It’s soviet engineering. It’s all in Cyrillic on this stuff.”

“Can’t you go fetch a Russian to translate? Or a Ukrainian maybe?” He insisted, twisting his head to try and make sense of the weird letters.

So that’s what it’s like when foreigners come across Greek script…

“Yeah good luck with that.”

“Come again?”

The Filipino poked his head above his side of the engine, his white plumage smudged with oil stains.

“Russians, Ukrainians, they’re all at the party downtown.” He said. “Even the griffons, and from what I heard it’s hard to convince Anton to get away from her eggs, incubator or not.”

“Damn we’re shit out of luck then. Any translator they could have on Fugro?”

“Nope, no Slavs either.” Carlos shook his head before he halted mid-motion with a scowl. “Wai- no. Correction: they got a pair of Serbians.”

“Doesn’t help.”

“I’m aware.” His friend said, hefting himself up before sitting cross-legged atop the half-stripped engine. “Looks like it’s back to watching the checkpoint then? Not much we can do.”

“You could always ask on board Rhine Forest!” Thanasis’ distant voice came as he yelled from across the terminal, the sphinx the third one in the trio, hard at work watching the entrance, sitting on his haunches behind a machine gun nest. “They got Ukrainians!”

Angelo and Carlos jointly looked the opposite way towards the bay where the barge carrier was lying at anchor, unable to dock properly because of her draft. Or more accurately they looked at the tugboat the ship kept moored at their terminal to transfer crew members whenever necessary, and to keep some sensors on the lookout for zeebeasts on the other side of the net they had strung across the fairway to block access to the port.

“Guess it’s worth a shot.” He shook his head before thanking Thanasis. “Carlos, just grab your gun and look busy watching the checkpoint. No point you keep trying if you can’t make sense of the diagrams.”

“Aye aye boss!” The Filipino squawked back, backflipping off the engine in a show of agility as he moved to join Thanasis. “And good luck. You’ll need it.”

“What for now, you cheeky pinoy?” He grumbled.

But Carlos just ignored him, parroting a tune he’d heard over the radio.

Angelo twitched an eyebrow at the display, before he decided to drop it with a shrug of his broad shoulders and went to the tugboat to ask. There he found a bored-looking unicorn stallion on the deck, standing with a pair of binos hanging from his neck as he kept glancing towards the fairway every so often.

More about looking busy than actually standing watch. If a monster swam their way it would be spotted through sonar, not by sight.

“Hi there… Diethelm was it?” Angelo greeted.

“Ja, problem?” The appaloosa stallion replied in a thick German accent.

Not the guy he needed to translate. Then again, Schmitt had one such accent, and she spoke both Russian and Ukrainian. Too bad she was at the party…

“Not really. Can I talk to your pilot? Need to ask a question.”

“Natürlich...” He waved his hoof aft. “Up on the bridge.”

Angelo thanked him with a nod, turning around to face the tugboat’s cockpit, only then seeing… Aw crap. Any pilot he would have dealt with any but her.

Artemis.

Resignedly, he climbed up the staircase that led to the tug’s cockpit, finding her hunched over a set of maps depicting the stretch of ocean between Cuba and the Florida Keys. Her shoulders visibly tensed the moment he stepped in.

“Good afternoon, Molnàr.” She greeted him in her native tongue. “Something you need?”

“Hello and... yes.” He jerked a thumb back to his end of the terminal. “Sorry to bother but we’re looking for someone who can read Cyrillic. Soviet manuals, see.”

Artemis held up a finger and poked her head out the window, looking off towards the tug’s funnel and an open hatch in its side.

“Oi Mikhail! Nap time’s over, got peeps who need your skills over there. Get your ass to the checkpoint and help ‘em.” She yelled.

It took a second, but the Spyro lookalike that was the dragon scampered out of the funnel blearily, he took a pause to shake off all the soot accumulated over his scales, and then he ran off towards Carlos and Thanasis.

Angelo blinked at the display.

“He does that often? Sleep in the funnel I mean?”

“Only when I let him nap on duty.” Artemis went back to her charts. “Says he likes the heat, and he’s a dragon so the fumes won’t harm him either way. Ne’er been a problem, and he’s quick enough to rouse. That good for you? He’s Ukrainian, translating shouldn’t be much trouble.”

“Close enough I guess.” Angelo shrugged. “Say, what are you doing over here? Not missing the party?”

“Nah, I need to prep these charts. We’re taking the American and Canadian tourists to Florida soon with a convoy of our trawlers. I’m just getting ahead on my work.” She traced a line on the chart. “Not much to do, it’s pretty much a straight line from Havana to Key West.”

“You’re just gonna drop them there then?”

“Eh, we ain’t overdoing it with the hand-holding. So much we can do for them, they’re all from different places. The Americans aretechnically in the right country even if they wind up on the wrong side; and the canucks can at least pass through a couple colonies along the East Coast to help them. It’s the bloody apocalypse, they’re lucky we’re getting them across to begin with.” Artemis told him.

“I guess you’re right.” He peeked over her shoulder to look at the map. “Still, they got my sympathy. If they got any folks from Vancouver or Seattle then they’re in for a ride.”

“Wasn’t that place ravaged by fires? I heard something along those lines on the radio, like there’s some returnee exodus on the West Coast ‘cause no one was there to stop the fires.”

“Probably. I hardly listen to Jensen’s broadcast, I wouldn’t know.” Angelo admitted. “Best thing we can do beyond dropping them off is to point them towards the colonies we know of.”

There was a moment of awkward silence after he ended his sentence. Neither of the two being exactly sure as to where they should take the conversation from there, yet Angelo felt as though he should hang around for a minute more.

“So… I think Carlos is going to need my...”

“Wait.” Artemis interrupted him.

“Is there a problem?”

She still didn’t turn away from her charts, but he saw her clench and unclench her hand around her pencil a couple times before she finally voiced her thoughts.

“Depends on the way you look at it.” She muttered, finally turning away from her charts to face the other minotaur. “It just came across to me that in the months the fleet has spent together I’ve never really talked to you. Avoided you even.”

Angelo didn’t say anything. He just leaned his back against the nearest wall and crossed his arms.

“Look… I’m sorry. It’s such a shame because I know we’re thousands of kilometers away from Greece and we don’t get to meet many others and I let my opinion of you be dictated by the grapevine.” She let out a bovine snort. “And just because someone said I lucked out on the transformation at some point, I got mad at you without even having a few words. That… that wasn’t very mature of me and I apologize for it.”

“No need to apologize. I know how grapevines can be, got plenty of raunchy suggestions about you myself.”

No surprise that he would. Minotaur cows had the stature to attract those kinds of talks with little trouble. Though… the books were clear. Minos were far from being promiscuous, as couples pair-bonded in a manner that was quite similar to how griffons mated, albeit in a less sudden manner.

“And what did you do about these suggestions, hmm?” She was suddenly looming over him.

Other minotaur trivia: where the bulls have the bulk, cows have the height, resulting in her being a good head taller than Angelo. By bulk-to-height ratio they were about in the same weight class, and raw strength didn’t mean that much for a species that could use magic to boost their strength.

About equal then, though she did have more reach than him.

What it accidentally highlighted however, was that in her attempt to look menacing she practically shoved her buxom breasts in his snout.

“Shoot them down of course.” He didn’t falter and, most of all, looked her in the eye. “What else am I supposed to do?”

Not look down at least. Gods save him if his gaze strayed that way.

“Wise choice.” She smirked, taking a step back.

Angelo quirked an eyebrow in amusement.

“The hell was that?”

“Just making sure the grapevine was wrong and I’m more than a piece of meat.”

“You do know about...”

“Yes! Yes I know!” She exclaimed. “I was a dude before, I know the effect I got… doesn’t mean that I like it. It’s embarrassing you know? Folks turning their heads when you walk past them.”

“For your information, bulls turn heads too. Not the same sex, but we do as well.” He informed her.

“Yeah I’m aware of that...” He caught her mutter under her breath.

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s nothing!” She blushed. “Regardless… can’t we just be, you know, cordial to each other?”

“No problem with that.” Angelo smiled and held up a four-fingered hand. “So let’s start this over: Hi, I’m Angelo, I’m from Athens.”

She shook the proffered hand.

“Artemis, formerly Nikolaos, from Thessaloniki. I say let’s be friends, so why don’t we hang out at the beach sometime?”

On the other side of the Atlantic, in Brittany, there wasn’t so much partying as there was working and planning.

In Starswirl’s tower, you’d find the resident mage hard at work trying to figure out the way the world turned in this day and age with all the new magics roiling over one another, from his own projects to those he owed to others such as Morgane. And all of that, he had to do while retaining enough free time to teach his apprentice, and trying to figure out how to make transformation spells stick on returnees.

The latter he got reminded of often enough since his first attempt at swapping Miles’ gender. The mare really wanted to be male again, though try as he might he had yet to design a spell potent enough to prevent her own magic from rejecting the transformation.

And at the rate he was going, that wasn’t the kind of spell he was going to finish in a month’s time, unfortunately. He even had used the other half of his soul that was in Equestria to scour libraries from Canterlot to Stalliongrad, to no avail.

So unless he could somehow conjure up a library that had information on the interactions between two very different magics – which was what most of his research was about, come to think of it-, he was down to his own spellcrafting. Nothing he couldn’t manage, but nothing that was fast by any stretch of imagination either.

Even involving modern thaumic research methodology as encouraged by Princess Sparkle, mind. And he’d had a few words with the Princess herself about his research. She was deeply interested as an intellectual, even maybe a bit jealous when he openly revealed he could be in two places at once with his soul trick and that he got to mess around with those magics, but unfortunately she was no more able to help him than any of the foreign mages he sent letters to on Equus.

“So I really won’t turn back anytime soon?” Miles’ wings sagged after another failed spell.

This time around she had lasted a whole minute as a stallion. Long enough to feel the increased bulk, touch her squarish snout, even feel a stir from her member… before it recessed back into a slit and a pair of teats.

She’d put her UCP poncho back on with her head low to the ground.

“I asked around. There isn’t any data or books I can rely on to speed things up. Transforming you is going to require a lot of time and effort, more so than if you didn’t have a human soul.” Starswirl looked down at several pages’ worth of ritual circles in his notes. “We’ll get there eventually. Previous spells have shown continuous improvements since we started. I just can’t promise it will be done soon.”

“I guess I still have something to hold on to then… thanks.” Miles nodded curtly.

“Come back in two days time, I should have hammered down some improvements by then.”

Enough time for the other projects underway around the village and the castle then. She bid the mage her farewell, and left him to Martin’s lessons, exiting his enchanted plane of existence to go and join Emeric and Rockhoof in their next endeavor.

With all the projects they had underway, the two stallions had begun poring over topographic charts of the region in search of areas where they might locate the resources they needed to finish all their construction projects.

Lumber was one thing, but whilst it was readily obtainable, you couldn’t just make everything out of wood. Stone and metal were among the biggest needs they had, but unfortunately so far, all of their supply came from salvaging overgrown buildings in the abandoned hamlets that could be found around the region. Problem was that the supply was limited and...

Broceliande hadn’t been kind on the infrastructure, and roadways that would have previously been wide enough for trucks laden with construction materials were now reduced to rubble underneath a thick layer of vegetation. Narrow game trails had quickly become the sole way of wading one’s way through the forestry, and it didn’t make transporting anything heavy or in large quantities easy.

Their agreement with Cernunnos that the planned temple could only be completed by next year made a lot more sense because of that. Reclaimed masonry just wouldn’t cut it for the job, and while they did know where to find a quarry to get it, as they did for clay pits or even limestone to make cement and lime wash… it was more of a problem getting the materials to where they needed them than it was collecting them.

More so when you accounted for the fact transporters needed protection from critters.

Ever since Rock had approved of Lionel’s development plans, small groups had been dispatched around the region to start collecting construction materials. Generally one of their guards escorted a pair of deer or unicorns dragging wheelbarrow-sized carts that were small enough to pass through game trails.

They’d leave in the morning, and come back as soon as they had a full load of whatever they had been sent to collect.

Problem was…

“So that’s what we collected in a week’s time.” Rock announced flatly, waving a hoof at several piles of materials lying outside the village’s palisade in a clearing near their charcoal kiln.

“That’s it? That’s all we got?” Miles asked. “What in the blazes are we supposed to build with that?”

“Not much I reckon.” Rockhoof admitted. “It’s not even enough to make the temple’s foundations.”

Just as they were chatting, one of their teams came back from their trip, the two deer that were dragging the carts emptying their load of salvaged cement bags as the accompanying guard spotted Rockhoof and his lieutenants and saluted them.

“So are any of you going to say it?” Emeric drawled.

“Say what?” Rockhoof replied.

“That we’re in need of an upgrade.”

“Gee, thank you for stating the obvious.” Miles snarked. “So what? We’re just gonna start building roadways with the few of us in a forest that’s so quick to grow it’s overcome centuries of development in a few months’ time?”

“There is another way.” Rockhoof raised his eyes to the sky. “Pegasus style, but I’ll need to ask Starswirl.”

“How do you mean?” Miles stared in confusion.

“He means flying carriages.” Meadowbrook’s voice rang out behind them as the mare joined the trio.

By then the baby bump was hard to miss on the pregnant mare, so much so that she walked around with a bit of a waddle in her hind legs.

“Hello dear.” Rock went to greet her with a kiss, the mare practically melting in her stallion’s embrace before he turned to look at his lieutenants. “And yes… flying carriages. It’s a thing they use in Equestria to move cargo over short distances when it’s not ideal for trains or airships. Pegasi invented it, unicorns perfected it. And it’s exactly as the name suggests: a carriage modified to levitate so long as it’s pulled by flyers. Any flyer. That could help us reach those quarries without trouble and overcome the lack of infrastructure.” He explained, pausing to stare back at the mare who was now sitting between his forehooves. “Say dear, I’m surprised you’d be out of your lab at this hour. Is everything alright? Is there any problem with the foal?”

“Oh don’t you get and get fussy right now.” She protested. “I just needed some air. The end of summer is coming, so I want to catch the sun while I still can. At this rate I’m going to spend winter inside all swollen up.” She added, rubbing a hoof over her growing belly.

Miles felt a pang in her chest at the sight, sneaking a glance towards Emeric. She shook her head. Focus on your goals.

“Yeah, Brittany tends to get pretty rainy in Fall. We got a bit of an issue with liquid sunshine around here.” Emeric joked. “But I’m not sure about the flying carriages. I mean, Miles is the only pegasus in the village.”

“And you forgot we have Starswirl living here.” Meadowbrook fired right back with a grin. “There are plenty of spells that can allow somepony to fly through the air. I even know a couple potions… but they need special plants that I don’t have here, unfortunately.”

“There’s a bit of a problem with locals shrugging off spells you know.” Miles pointed out. “Part of my problems actually.”

Meadowbrook gained a sympathetic look on her muzzle.

“Oh sorry sweetie, I forgot about that.” She apologized. “Then I guess our solution to the logistics problem hinges on somepony finding a spell or potion template that’s better adapted to human magic. Or… finding pegasi to pull those carriages when we make them, but judging by the returnees we’ve been seeing that’s not very common in Brittany.”

Not common at all. Miles was still the only creature able to fly in the entire village, and she owed it to being American, not French.

Rockhoof looked off in the distance, the stallion starting to rub his hoof in circles on his wife’s belly as he searched for the right words.

“It’s a stalemate then. Roadways are out of the equation, we can’t use human flying machines, we don’t have the machinery to make airships even if we wanted to, and while we could make flying carriages, we lack the flyers because local magic prevents it. Did I surmise it right, uh?” He listed off.

“Yeah sounds about right.” Emeric nodded.

“Then it’s pretty simple isn’t it? We find how to adapt our knowledge of spells and potions, it should be the simplest alternative of the bunch.” Meadow smiled. “Star is good at what he does, but we shouldn’t forget about the other ponies that can help. I know I can lend a hoof with my potions already, but there are the fay ladies too in the forest. Morgane and Vivian was it? They’re as experienced at what they do as Star is, so maybe we could leverage some help?”

Her offer was met by a series of silent nods from all ponies gathered around her.

Starswirl wouldn’t like it… but they could help as well.

The matter was… what could they trade these ladies for their research?

Author's Notes:

You know... in many cases it's not so much of a problem having the resources than it is getting them where they're actually needed. In the modern world it's already a challenge to pull it off.

Remove roads. Place a settlement in what amounts to an Everfree on steroids. With all the magic in the air they may not have a problem getting excellent yields out of their agriculture, but it's downright hellish clearing land to make room, it pisses off forest guardians and nature gods, and then it's still hard to get the supplies anywhere to the point that Sisyphus would consider his plight easy.

Beyond that... most train engines I know of hover around the 1MW in power output. Not much, but pretty ideal to power a colony as a generator and definitely a better alternative than car and truck engines. The diesel-electric transmission helps a lot too.

Lastly, by rule of thumb I go:
Havana Club - 3 years - that one's for cocktails.
Havana Club - 7 years - better quality. Can be drunk on its own.
Havana Club - 15 years - collectible. To be kept for special occasions.

Though I'm more of a whisky fan tbh.