At first Doug tries to busy himself with his work, made all the more difficult by the cramped conditions and chatter of the nearby ponies. He much prefers stretching out, and knows his legs will soon start complaining. His benchmate doesn’t seem particularly interested in conversation, and he’s not sure if that’s a good thing. After all, most of the other ponies seem perfectly happy chatting with anypony and everypony, especially those they’ve just met. Even though her head is turned away, exposing a pink earring that matches the stylish scarf around her neck, no whites are visible in her eyes, just blue and black as she watches him carefully. It seems an uncomfortable position, one he feels a little bad about putting her in.

“So, Winnie,” Doug asks, speaking up a bit. Now that they’ve left the Lower Canterlot Station the clatter of the train has lessened, and with it the volume of voices. “Do you travel often?”

“Me?” Winnie says, confused at first that he would be talking to her. She quickly loses the puzzled expression, an orange hoof stroking at the base of her chin as she stares up at the ceiling. “All over Equestria, and quite often, I suppose,” she answers after a moment of consideration. She shakes her head, snorting with a certain exasperation. “Especially this season.” Her focus returns to him. “You?”

Doug finds he has to consider the question as well. What was his first trip outside Ponyville? “Let’s see; I went to the Badlands with Rarity a few years back. Canterlot a number of times, especially in the last year. The Everfree Forest, Vanhoover, the Crystal Empire, Klugetown. This will be my second trip to the Crystal Empire.”

“I see.” From the way she says it he can imagine her taking mental notes with a certain snobbery. Winnie turns to face him, having to step off the bench to swing her slender chalice-stamped rear around, and again tucks her forelegs underneath her barrel. She has a longer muzzle than the mares he knows, aside from Celestia, pursed in a hard, thin line. She regards him with an intensity he likens to an investigative reporter, not that he’s gone anywhere near one (and neither does he have any desire to do so). “Business or pleasure?”

He snorts, belying it with a smile. “Business, I guess you could say.” It’s not like they got paid for saving the crystal ponies; they did have fun along the way, especially coming back, but he’d hardly call that their purpose.

“Oh?” Winnie motions at the papers in his hand. The header says ‘Fillypelphia’ with a long list of pony names, all done up in the official Cloudsdale Weather Factory style with lots of blue and curly, wispy lines. “Does it have to do with that?”

“This?” Doug shakes his head. “No; the Crystal Empire doesn’t need to worry about weather at all, from what I’m told. They don’t have as much control as an Equestrian city, but they don’t need it; the Crystal Heart keeps the skies clear. I think they irrigate their fields, but I’m not sure.”

“I see.” Jot jot jot. “Is there anything you do know?”

“Well, I skimmed through this.” Doug doesn’t care for the insinuation. He pulls out Twilight’s reference guide and flips it open to a simple map of the city, little more than a grid detailing which roads go where. “This barely does it justice; the view is much better from the air. Maybe they’ll let you climb to the top of the castle!”

Winnie scoffs, which surprises Doug; he thought a tourist would leap at such a suggestion. “Yes, I suppose,” she concedes, if reluctantly. “Though I hardly think I will have time for sightseeing.”

“Oh?” He leans forward, curious. “You’ve got a whole bunch of stuff already planned? My mom was like that on trips, everything down to the minute.”

“Am I to take it that is not your method?” Jot jot jot. “Because a proper event must be planned and coordinated as precisely as possible. Otherwise one runs into chaos!”

“In my job it is, less so on my travels.” Doug shrugs. “Sometimes chaos isn’t all that bad.”

Jot. Winnie stops midway through whatever mental note she’s making to raise an incredulous eyebrow. “Really.”

“Well, yeah.” Doug looks out the window as green plains and rolling hills begin to give way to the everpresent white of the Frozen North. “There’s a certain, hmm, excitement in not knowing how something is going to go. Take, for example, the sprints in the upcoming Equestria Games. Everypony knows the Wonderbolts - or Cloudsdale, since that’s where they’re from - are going to take first place. It ruins any sort of suspense, and all you can wonder about is who wins second place.”

“For the masses,” Winnie concedes. “But for those running the Games themselves any sort of uncertainty is to be quashed as completely as possible. It would not do at all to not know which event is happening next.”

“Sure,” Doug says, his hand splaying open to acknowledge her point. “Chaos has its place, as antithetical as that sounds.”

She nods, though her strict features remain as uncompromising as before. “Do you believe the inclusion of other species will impact the Games?”

“...Hmm.” He rubs at his chin. He hasn’t considered this aspect at all, and neither have Rainbow Dash’s ramblings. “The events themselves? Maybe the griffons will give a run for bronze in the longer races. Oh, wait, what about ice archery? If they use their claws, that’s got to be way better than mouth for accuracy and speed.”

“They may use their claws to hold the bow, but not the arrow.” Winnie smirks at Doug’s look of awe.

“You knew that off the top of your head?” He glances at her cutie mark of a golden chalice; he feels like he’s seen it before. “You must be quite the fan.”

“One could say.” She studies him, like she’s trying to figure something out. She motions at her floral-print bag. “All my notes are in there.”

“But, overall?” Doug shakes his head. “I can’t see many of the other contests being impacted. Too many require enough training and dedication that a newly introduced competitor won’t stand a chance. Maybe at medaling, but not gold, if there’s some giant advantage they have.”

“Mm.” Winnie looks past him at the wintery landscape. “And the Empire itself? Will their facilities be as inadequate as their competitors?”

Doug grimaces. He feels like a frog in a pot of water and she keeps turning up the heat. “Oof, that’s a hard one. I don’t know if I agree with it, but that’s because I haven’t seen any of what they’ve done or what they’re trying to do. I’m hoping I can walk around and take it all in quickly.” She doesn’t appear to care for his uncertainty at all. His hand goes from thoughtful rubbing at his chin to rough squeezes. “I have no idea how well they’ll do. Apparently they used to host the Games way back in the day, so there has to be some history at competing, even if it’s in a few select events. But when I was there last? There was nothing. They’re going to have to put the whole city to work to build a stadium, if I have any guess. Or they’ve got to…”

Winnie raises an eyebrow as Doug’s face scrunches up. “Yes?”

He desperately tries to keep from laughing. “Well, the Crystal Empire has a certain… aesthetic, right?” Winnie nods. “Lots of crystal buildings symmetrically laid out. A giant stadium is going to look incredibly out of place. Like a big zit, or a boil, waiting to burst. They must have had one in the past, so they either took it apart or hid it somewhere.” She nods again, slower this time. “My thought was, have you ever seen those inflatable rafts?”

A frown crosses the long muzzle. “They collapse, and then are… blown up? Filled with air?”

Doug snaps his fingers, then points at Winnie. She seems surprised at the noise and action. “Exactly. My thought is: what if they have an entire stadium, all folded up in a room in the Crystal Castle, and they just open a window and let it all spill out?”

If Winnie had glasses Doug is sure she would be taking them off to rub. “Really.”

He shrugs, his grin refusing to go away. “Regardless. There’s a lot to do, and I mean a lot, but I’m sure they’ll be ready by the time the Games begin.”

She sneers as the jotting returns. “A fact that remains to be seen.”

“Hey, fair enough.” Doug leans back, resigning to the fact he isn’t getting any work done. “As far as the ponies themselves? They’re hampered by the fact that they’re all Crystal Ponies.”

“A limiting factor, yes,” Winnie points out, “but no worse than that of Cloudsdale. And they are one of the favorites to win the most medals.”

The corner of Doug’s mouth twitches. “As a resident of Ponyville, I am obliged to contest that statement.” He recalls the Iron Pony competition between Rainbow Dash and Applejack; even if they weren’t technically going against each other, it was pretty clear who would win each contest. “Not that I’m arguing that one pony breed is better than the others, but the strengths of the pegasi shine more frequently in these contests.”

If he thought Winnie was turning up the heat before, he can feel it now. “And this is unfair at its core?”

“I can see either side being argued, but ultimately no.” Doug has to side with Applejack’s conclusion: she doesn’t want a separate league to compete in, even if she loses; she just wants to be a worthy competitor. “There might be innate differences between ponies. Even between breeds. But except for the obvious wings and horns it’s not insurmountable and that opposition, that struggle, is necessary. We become stronger when we have something to fight than when we just get whatever we want. And that leads us to become better ponies.” He motions at himself with a slight smirk. “Or humans, or whatever else ends up competing at these games.”

Winnie stares at him for a long time, long enough for him to get uncomfortable. “You believe this.”

“Well, yeah.” Doug looks out the window as the rolling hills turn to snowy mountains. “I can see the argument about whether competing against the wild is worthwhile. Spike, back when he was with us, wanted to brave the hike from Ponyville to Vanhoover during the dragon migration, much like the dragons flew across Equestria. He ended up taking the train and feeling like he missed out on something. In the same vein, when does convenience turn into coddling? So many skills have been, perhaps not lost, but replaced by ones more suited to their current circumstance. Will Applejack lament the loss of making cider the ‘Apple’ way when the vast majority of their production is made by machine?” He exaggerates a shrug, huffing to himself as he cannot quite answer his own question. “There’s a lot to gain, especially in countering hardship, but sometimes something is lost and you don’t know what or why and it might be too late to get it back.”

“I ask,” Winnie clarifies as Doug ponders, “because it is what I would have said, and Princess Luna did not coach you.” Her head cocks, regarding him suspiciously. “Yet it was my choice for you to accompany me.”

“Your choice?” He raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“I requested you as the one to accompany me, and Princess Luna agreed.” Winnie frowns at his lack of comprehension. “I am the Games inspector?” Doug blinks. “The one you are to serve as the welcoming committee for?”

That’s where he saw the symbol, on the business card! It’s also somepony’s mark? “Oh, that Ms. Harshwhinny,” Doug tries to cover, obviously failing. He coughs into a fist. “I don’t suppose you’ll, hmm, look past my ignorance and how poor a job I’ve done selling the city? I thought I’d have some time to familiarize myself first.”

“Mister Doug,” Ms. Harshwhinny reprimands. “Do you have any idea how many ponies have tried to shmooze their way into my good graces?”

“Err,” Doug says, coughing into his hand. “If that’s your way of trying to get something, then I’m not sure what I should offer.” He looks down at his hands, then at her, wondering (and dreading) what she’ll say. Especially if she asks something of him; would Luna get mad at him tanking the Crystal Empire’s chances by refusing?

“No, no, no,” Ms. Harshwhinny chuckles, shaking her head with a good-natured smile. “I appreciate your candor.”

Doug breathes a sigh of relief as he squeezes his hands together. “Oh, good. I was worried you might want something.”

“Focus, Mister Doug.” Ms. Harshwhinny rolls her eyes. “Is that how you keep your many mares satisfied?”

Doug smirks. “It’s mostly these.” He goes back and forth between fists and flicking his fingers out. He notes how her head draws closer to them, perhaps for a tentative sniff. She doesn’t seem afraid at all, instead highly interested. He sighs to himself; the things I do for Luna. “I do have to warn you. A pony has been reduced to a puddle by them.”

Ms. Harshwhinny, heedless of his warning, spins around to present her backside to him, tail folded down, and scooches into him.

Doug starts at her withers and works his way down. She is tense, worse than Rarity after a long day, and he digs into each spot. She gradually loosens, only mostly dissolving into the bench, her eyes rolling up as her tongue lolls out. “I take it there’s not much to worry about?” Doug asks, only somewhat joking.

“There was never anything to worry about,” Ms. Harshwhinny says, quieter and resigned. Doug has to lean in to hear her. “When a Princess asks you to do something, that is how it will be done.”

“From what she said,” Doug admits, not entirely convinced, “it sounded to me like you were really opposed to this. That she had to fight for you to consider it.”

Ms. Harshwhinny sighs. “I would prefer if this didn’t get back to her,” she confides, “but it would not do to submit so easily, even if I have no intention of going against her wishes.”

Doug gives a particularly sore spot a squeeze, drawing a euphoric gasp from the mare. “And so this is…”

“Just,” she says as she recovers, “a bonding moment between acquaintances?” She rolls her withers, looking much better. “After all, I have already told you there is nothing riding on your performance. As long as the facilities are adequate.”

“Which they will be,” Doug says, hopeful as they pierce into the shimmering bubble surrounding the Crystal Empire. They cluster together at the window, peering upward. He’s not exactly sure how the skies above stay clear even though the bubble only extends so high, but they do, bright light sparkling off the many crystal buildings.

And, oddly enough, the dozens of ponies hard at work scrubbing every surface to a mirror shine. Some of them slowly slide down the slick sides, seemingly without restraints or safety harnesses, leaving him hoping crystal ponies are as tough as earth ponies when it comes to falling.

The train pulls to a stop, disgorging the mass of ponies. Doug and Ms. Harshwhinny wait patiently as crystal guards go over the disembarking ponies, eyes wide as they watch one pony in a long, slow descent of the Crystal Castle, neither in a rush to wade through the crowd.

“Mind if I get that for you?” Doug offers, motioning to her floral-print bag when the crystal pony comes to a stop. “I’d hate for you to carry it everywhere.”

“My teeth thank you,” Ms. Harshwhinny accepts with a short bow.

Doug lifts it up, only to find it weighs much less than he expected. “Enchanted?”

“Empty,” Ms. Harshwhinny admits. “I carry it to look busy. All those notes?” She taps her head, smirking.

“Well played,” Doug chortles, following her outside.

Two steel-clad crystal guards are standing at attention immediately outside the doors, facing them. They salute in perfect time with each other, hooves brushing their helmets above their eyes, the one on the right announcing, “Good morning, Prince Consort.”

“Morning.” Doug snaps a salute back, though his fingers are at eye level. It feels odd, as few of the royal guards salute him or Celestia, not that he is around them that often. He drops the salute, quickly followed by the guards.

“The Brave and Glorious Spike,” the same guard announces, “invites you to observe the Unveiling, which will commence shortly. His city is open to you. We are instructed to follow you, and assist in any way possible.”

“Well, then.” Doug motions toward the castle, where a vast number of ponies, crystal and otherwise, are congregating. “Lead the way!”

The two walk down the main thoroughfare to the Crystal Castle. The crowds of ponies part to let the guards through, though Doug feels a little self-conscious at potentially blocking somepony’s view. His worry proves unfounded when they spot Spike.

The Brave and Glorious Emperor Spike flies five stories in the air, level with the base of the castle. A massive crystal-studded headdress rests atop his head, easily twice his size, only the slightest wobble showing any difficulty with the weight. It looks ridiculous, like it was made for a Princess intent on proving without a shadow of a doubt that she was from the Crystal! Empire, with a small Crystal Heart as the centerpiece of twirling blue and purple ribbons and crystals. Frankly, knowing the dragon, Doug is surprised he hasn’t eaten half the gems already, but that would probably make the intricate design fall apart. Spike holds a thick chain in his claws, the other end attached to a door on the base of the castle. Behind him the ground is cleared of houses and other debris, the nearby neighborhoods obviously denser and showing drag lines in the dirt.

“Attention, everypony!” Spike bellows, the crowd quieting down. He lifts his claws to the sky. “To the might of the Crystal Empire!”

A cheer goes out as he yanks on the chain, pulling out a wedge from the door. It swings open, clattering against the crystal wall with a rattling *clang*.

From inside the castle emerges, like a squished marshmallow slowly expanding, a gray, formless mass. It slowly extends, dripping down like drool from a sleeping foal, finally hardening when halfway to the ground. Then a second part pushes out. It expands as it gradually descends, surpassing the height of the door it came from. As it rises it folds out and away, a languid elbow bending away from the castle. Even as one lumpy section settles to the ground another seems to grow out of it, repeating the action of rising and falling like a stick being lifted up by a curious foal. A second section splits off from where it touches the ground, moving opposite the first and eventually coming back to make a gigantic oval.

“No bucking way,” Doug mutters as the globby material ripples and splits as it settles into the form of tiered bleachers. They sparkle in the bright sun, looking every bit like they are carved from the same crystal as the nearby houses.

Ms. Harshwhinny’s eyes shine as she leans forward. “That was…”

“Disgusting?” Doug guesses, not looking at her.

“Stupendous!” Ms. Harshwhinny whistles, high and sharp enough to get Doug to wince, as the ponies cheer. She stretches out, reaching one hoof as far forward as she can and barely keeping her balance. She rubs at her eyes, then opens them wide as if she can’t believe what she’s seeing. “Quite possibly the single most amazing thing I have ever seen!”

Doug rolls his eyes. “Do you say that at every performance?”

Ms. Harshwhinny scoffs as she returns to a neutral position. “Professionalism, Mr. Doug, requires me to show enthusiasm. I do suggest you try it sometime.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Doug chuckles as more and more buildings bubble up.

Next Chapter: Ch. 129 - Elegant Hubris, Part One Estimated time remaining: 11 Hours, 38 Minutes