April 23rd, 1001 Domina Solaria

“So…” Doug starts, trailing off. Luna stands next to him outside the Ponyville train station, stifling a yawn. There isn’t much to do besides stand and chat outside the single squat building. The cobalts and oranges of his ceremonial armor blend in with the colorful commuters as they wait for the morning train to Canterlot, though little can be done for his or Luna’s height. The armor hides most of the Celestial crest on his front and the Lunar on his back while leaving his arms and lower legs, and the tattooed marks, exposed. “I guess this is happening.”

Luna’s eyes close, her head dipping down. “We art sorry for the inconvenience.”

Doug gives the straps of the backpack on his back, the same one Rarity gave him all those years ago, an exasperated tug. “You couldn’t give me one day of warning?”

“We apologized already.” Luna raises her head to give Doug a sultry smile reminiscent of Rainbow Dash or Celestia. “Unless thou wishes for us to apologize again?”

Doug rolls his eyes as a few of the morning commuters chuckle to themselves about the ‘lucky colt’. It’s not like his proclivities as stallion of one of the largest herds in Equestria haven’t been speculated on by the townsfolk, made all the worse by his frequent physical affection with the mares - especially the Princesses - out in public. “It’s not that I’m angry. I just don’t know why this…” He pulls out a white business card stamped with the ‘Equestria Games’ logo of a golden chalice and inspects it closely. “...Ms. Harshwhinny character wants me to be the one giving the tour.”

“Not merely a tour,” Luna corrects. “Serving as the Welcoming Committee.”

Doug sighs at the correction. He has a list from Twilight that details what the position entails that he hasn’t gone through yet. “Sure. But if she’s really that pedantic, then surely there’s a better pony out there.”

“Yes,” Luna agrees, though Doug thinks it’s a trap. “We could send your herdmates.”

“Applejack and the others?” Doug stares up at the sky for a few moments.

How would that go? Well, probably in all different directions. Applejack would be dead set against hiding any little imperfection or problem while Rarity would obsess over covering them up. Rainbow Dash would show off her own skills in the aerial events; if she toned it down then she would just show off the tracks and events with emphasis on the ones she might participate in (though limited to one event by Games rules). Fluttershy would hang back, if the inspector even noticed she was there, while Pinkie Pie would be as erratic and ebullient as always. And Twilight? Well, she might have a chance of explaining why the Crystal Empire is an excellent choice to host the games, if she could get a word in edgewise.

“...It might work.” Doug grimaces as he adjusts the backpack again. “If they weren’t so busy.”

“Indeed.” Luna coughs into a hoof. “If they managed to find the right pony.”

Doug’s brow scrunches up. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing. Just a premonition.” Luna yawns again, not bothering to hide it this time. “Our apologies; we spent most of the night making arrangements and chasing down everypony necessary; t’is more exhausting than dreamwork. T’is fortunate Twilight already browsed and categorized the literature she received.”

“Tell me about it,” Doug complains good-naturedly, having sat next to the ecstatic alicorn while she blazed through the books from Research, Inquest, and Procurement. Earlier this morning he had to physically wrest her away from stuffing the backpack with even more books, and that was before he realized she hadn’t included the weather assignments he would need to get through on the train ride. He didn’t want to mimic Rarity with how much luggage trailed behind him, thank you very much.

A shrill whistle announces the arrival of the morning train, and with it the crowd of ponies neatly line up to wait behind the alicorn, even though she won’t be getting on. An apple-tattooed wrist hides itself in the star-studded cobalt mane, Doug dipping down just slightly to exchange a chaste nuzzle and quick kiss to the cheek while the other hand snakes past her peytral to her chest.

“Booo!” one of the ponies shouts; it sounds like Cadance, or maybe just something she would say, Doug can’t be sure, frustrated that they aren’t going far enough. And encouraging them to rectify this gross oversight. Or maybe he’s reading too much into it.

Or maybe not, as Luna’s next kiss lasts twice as long and leaves a wet mark just under Doug’s nose. She takes a step back before he can mess with her mane, his fingers slipping free with just a hint of mussing, to smile and wave as though nothing at all happened.

Doug rolls his eyes as a few ponies disembark, only for the impatient ponies behind him to start jostling him forward. He waves back as they all board the train. He takes one of the few open spots furthest in the corner, giving him plenty of space to stretch out on the pony-style benches. They’re a bit short for him, both height and length-wise; if he can snag the entirety for himself it isn’t so bad, with his back propped up against the rattling walls.

It’s not too hard for him to tune out the constant chatter from the crowded compartment or the rhythmic ca-thunk-ca-thunk-ca-thunk as the train rolls along the tracks. The first thing he does is pull out the list Twilight gave him, groaning as it spills down and unfurls. She listed out every single one of the nearly two hundred events. Although, many of them won’t need separate facilities or buildings for him to inspect, just medals for aerial relay races and extreme nest building and whatever ice archery is.

The next thing is a map of the Crystal Empire, only slightly out of date. He has no idea where any of the new construction will go, unless they just plop down a giant stadium in the middle of the city. He doubts they would ruin the aesthetic of the city like that. That is, until he considers how out of place Twilight’s School of Friendship looks. At least he had the good sense to bury his affront to all artistry. He sighs as he folds the map back up, hoping Spike has a better plan.

Doug gives his backpack a wary glance. It’s not that he’s afraid of tackling the, to be frank, metastasizing problem of increasing demand for food. It’s just getting tiresome being pushed from all sides, with nopony happy about the result. Ponies need more food, and grumble about having to pay more for the limited supply. Higher prices get farmers to plant and harvest more; Applejack has been busy the last few weeks, a trend that doesn’t look like it will slow down anytime soon, and one of the main reasons she reluctantly delegated operation of the Cider Squeezy to Pomarbo and Diamond Tiara. Most other farms are doing the same, putting out feelers for hiring more workers for planting and tending to extra fields, also grumbling about having to pay more; similarly, herds of sheep and cattle are incentivized to ‘increase production’, as it were, which also puts a higher strain on the food supply. Those who buy their ‘product’ have to eat the higher cost, although here he gets to listen to Luna gripe about the dragon’s and griffon’s complaints about increased prices, of which she can offer only vague sympathies.

Those extra fields need water, which is where he comes in. Fortunately, he doesn’t need to figure out where the extra water comes from, but he does need to figure out where it goes, who gets it there, and what to do about all the extra clouds, made all the more difficult by his earlier commitment to Luna to shroud the night sky as little as possible. He needs to do this for each city and town under his purview, all of which have unique terrain, requested weather patterns, and crews. He can’t reuse a lot of his old material from previous years; his margin of time between finishing the schedules and submitting them is running dangerously low, a big reason why he’s working on the trip, and he knows he’ll need to up the numbers again in a few months.

He barely notices when the train arrives at the Lower Canterhorn station, rivaling Twilight in ability to bury a nose in a book. It’s only once the apologetic Steamer coughs next to him, the rest of the train empty, that he realizes he needs to get to his connecting train to the Crystal Empire, this one returning back the way it came. Rather than try to stuff everything into his backpack he merely gathers it up and carries it by hand. He passes ponies loading pallets of Cloudcrete and timber onto cargo cars, enough to make him think he has the wrong train, at least until he gets to the cheerfully painted passenger cars. He boards early, early enough that if he wasn’t a Prince he might get a visit from a security guard, and resumes his work.

An hour later a glut of ponies arrive and fill the most desirable seats in the middle of the car, happy to leave Doug off by himself in a corner. Most are construction workers in their safety orange, piling food pails and suitcases in between seats. A veritable horde of changelings comes next, taking up the opposite side of the car from Doug, greens and blues and reds mashing together as they squeeze three across on seats designed for two. A few touristy-types come next, with floral patterned shirts and suitcases that are severely out of place for both the Crystal Empire and the Frozen North. They, too, cram themselves into the train and chatter loudly, though not quite to the point where Doug wishes he pulled rank and got a train car all to himself.

“Excuse me?”

Doug looks up at the harsh voice. Or, maybe that’s too uncharitable; it’s hard to make out anything in the train car. It belongs to an orange earth pony mare with a medium length blond mane that covers her forehead. She reminds him of Applejack, though a shade darker in both coat and mane, and he imagines that Applejack would wear such a stark purple suit just to get on Rarity’s nerves. Her piercing blue eyes demand attention, or perhaps acquiescence, and fit her creased brow and dour scowl to a ‘T’. Or maybe that’s just because of the suitcase firmly held in her teeth.

She motions at his legs while leaning closer. “Is this seat taken?”

A quick glance around confirms that every other seat on the train is not only taken but close to stacking ponies on top of luggage for more space. “Nope,” Doug says, quickly folding his legs underneath him. He pushes his backpack underneath the seat, freeing up enough floor space for her floral print suitcase. Another tourist? She doesn’t seem old enough to qualify for a blanket right to be ornery, like Granny Smith. From his experience most ponies tend to get a little cranky if they need to suffer these cramped conditions, especially for an extended period of time. At least the Crystal Empire is just a few hours away, and they’ll be able to stretch their legs.

She seems surprised at his quick concession of the coveted space. She sets her suitcase down before smoothing out her suit and laying down in ponyloaf, rear angled toward him but as far into the wall as the bench allows. “Ank yo,” she says as she draws her forelegs up, or at least that’s what he hears.

“Sure thing,” Doug replies, not terribly happy about giving up the space where he would spread out a map, but he’ll make do. “I’m Doug,” he greets, offering a fist. After all, if he’s going to be riding this close to another pony, and not necessarily by their choice, best to make them feel comfortable. At least she hasn’t given him the evil eye, or looked too curiously at him.

The mare glances back, first at his outstretched arm, then at the cutie mark tattooed on his wrist and shoulder. She meets his eyes. “Mizarse Winnie,” she answers over the roar of the room, tapping his fist.

Next Chapter: Ch. 128 - Might and Influence, Part Two Estimated time remaining: 11 Hours, 52 Minutes