In A Better Light: Concept Pilot 1

“By these means I expect we can see immediate improvements in resource usage.”
>”Fifteen percent.”
>You look at the white unicorn poring over the documents beside you.
“Pardon?”
>”I expect a fifteen percent improvement. More in the short term, because production slows to accommodate new methods. Our reserves will allow us to survive the temporary shortfall.”
>Raven Inkwell smiles at you.
>By God, that damned smile is going to get you in trouble, one of these days.
“Very good. Shall we put out the orders immediately?”
>“Orders? Mister Anonymous, you make this sound like a command.”
“Is it not?”
>”A request.” She tilts her head down ever so slightly. “A suggestion, even.”
“I care not, as long as it is obeyed.”
>”We request this in Their Majesties’ names. They do not obey us.”
“And Their Majesties expect we resolve this issue, whosever seal decorates the papers.”
>Raven eyes you sidelong for a moment, her gaze pausing briefly at the sword on your hip, then she lifts her quill magically and starts writing on a blank page. After a moment, “Did you run your ship like this?”
“I had high expectations of my crew when it counted, and am proud to report said expectations were often exceeded when time came to join battle.”
>”Someday,” she says while continuing to write, “I may yet convince you that we remain at peace.”
“In absence of enemies foreign, I focus on eliminating dysfunction, Lady Inkwell.”
>”And someday, I may yet convince you that I deserve no such honorific.”
“You may find that task the more difficult of the two, Lady.”
>Now, underneath her white coat across her face, a blush joins her slight smile.
>If she were a woman…
>Raven finishes writing the document, then floats it over in front of your face to review.
“All looks in order to me.”
>She returns it before her, then drips a small disk of wax onto the paper from a desktop candle. A small golden medallion on a delicate chain lifts from her collar-ruffle, then presses itself into the wax. Left behind is an impression of the mark of the sun-princess, embellished with an elaborate design in its center.
>Raven drips more wax beside it and passes the paper to you even as the medallion buries itself in that one article of clothing she wore.
>A silver ring on your right hand is capped with a lapis intaglio featuring a complimentary design. You press the signet ring against the wax, and when you lift away, the mark of the princess you serve is left behind; a lunar crescent with an intricate symbol in its void.
>One of your two symbols of office: Adjutant to the Moon.
>”I shall send this off first thing tomorrow morning,” Raven says. “I believe this concludes our business. I have a function I must attend to this evening.”
“Ah! Enjoy it.”
>She shakes her head. “You know I do not.”
“I hope someday you find something to appreciate in them, since Her Majesty continues to insist.”
>She neatens the documents on her desk before turning for the door. “I hope someday you may teach me how you find such contentment in these events yourself.”
>You smile as you gather your own papers and follow her out, hesitating – as you always do – when she holds the door open for you to exit first. Some habits die hard.
“I would welcome the chance, should it appear. Despite your schedule, I do hope you have a pleasant evening, Lady Inkwell.”
>She smiles at you one last time, before turning and walking away, down the hall to where you know her quarters to be.
>You watch her go the whole way.
>It’s not the first time you thought about what you might do had this world been different.
>Had its inhabitants been human, or at least moreso than they are, you’re sure they’d be more than stray thoughts, with this mare.
>Partially for lack of options; you steadfastly refuse to change your officer-and-gentlemanly manner, despite its exact opposite effect here.
>You’re a loyal servant of the state, even if it is – temporarily – a different state. You will regain your lost honor, and you will do it on your terms.
>You’re fortunate you serve the sovereign of the diarchy that respects and shared your chivalrous attitude. Such notions seem to have fallen out of favor even with the nobility in this nation.
>A shame, since other attitudes have improved, such as those regarding its geopolitical neighbors.
>Except...
>Your thoughts drift to the last page on your little stack under one arm.
>Ah, you never got the chance to tell Raven.
>Well, it could wait until she was ready.
>Not that it could wait for LONG.
>These matters tend to grow out of control quickly, if left alone.
“Hey, Anon!”
>You start and turn to the cheerful voice behind you.
>A batpony mare stands there, face brightened with her trademark chipper smile, twin fangs clearly visible.
“Ah, hello Tene.”
>Tene Bray quirks her head, smile faltering but not fading. “Is something wrong?”
>You shrug, then turn back to where Raven disappeared. “Not much.”
>She trots up beside you as you start walking towards your own quarters. “Aw, come on. I can tell, you know.”
“I’m haunted.”
>”By what?”
>You pause a moment. If you can’t lie, redirect.
“By a piece of literature, from back home.”
>”How’s a book got you down?”
>The changing of the guard is happening as the two of you make your way through the palace halls. That’s not why Tene appeared; she’s your personal protector, not that you needed it. The sword at your side was not just for show, and you were teaching Tene more than she was you about its use.
>Even if it wasn’t your original, your British steel, which remains sequestered away in your quarters. Equestrian make was almost as good, and more fitting for its use as its second symbol of your office, revived just for you.
“It was published about fifty years before I left God’s Earth. A satire, describing the fantastic voyages of a sea captain, sailing for strange shores.”
>”Hey, I guess that does sound a lot like you, huh?”
“Oh, that’s not the half of it. Its final part deals with him becoming entangled with a nation of, well, of talking horses. I am often struck by the parallels.”
>”If you’re often struck by it, why have you never told me? It sounds incredible! Maybe the author could see the future?”
>You laugh, despite yourself.
“I doubt it. I say haunted, not amazed, because the passage in question depicts my own kind in a less than ideal light. In my stay here, I’m forced to contemplate just what way that passage is satirical. Is Gulliver’s ultimately fatalistic and cynical attitude upon rescue lampooned, or the nature of my fellow men?”
>You hold up your right hand and consider your signet ring, admiring the gold flecks in blue.
“I know my duty to Princess Luna as her adjutant, but what is my duty to King George as his unintentional representative to this land of gentle equines?”
>”You put away those concerns when you put away his sword, Anon.”
“It still bothers me. I may be the first in a position to consider his humanity not against a standard or ideal but another thinking race.”
>Tene is silent as you turn another quarter, your room only a few doors down now. “I don’t know. I’m not good with the big ideas.”
“Better than you think.”
>You stop in front of your door, considering.
“Actually, let us go for a walk around the gardens. I want to order my thoughts, and you are a better conversation partner than you believe.”
>As you start  off again, she looks at you with a flat expression. “Will you tell me what’s actually bothering you, then?”
“Ah, can’t get one by you after all, can I?”
>”Oh, I believe everything you said, and I can see why it would bother you. But your problem is more immediate, isn’t it? Something you wanted to talk to Raven about. I saw how your expression changed as she left.”
>Council rooms nearby. Most would be empty. You open one, glance down either stretch of corridor you’re in, then wave Tene inside.
“Come, and be quiet. What I’m about to tell you is in the strictest confidence, and I only speak at all because I trust you as a close and dear friend.”
>Her eyes widen even as she walks inside, and you close the door behind her. “Anon, if it’s that impor-”
“Not even in the line of your duties as Her Majesty’s Night Watch can you speak of this to anyone until I tell you otherwise. I say this as an order as her Adjutant.”
>Tene recovers her hanging jaw, snapping her mouth closed with an audible click and nodding quickly.
>You take the small bundle of papers from under your arm and pull the last page to the fore, scanning it again just to refresh your memory of its contents.
>Not that you could forget.
“I cannot be sure of this, so I haven’t said anything yet. I wanted to run my suspicions past Lady Inkwell, if just to be sure I wasn’t jumping at shadows, caught in a throwback to my own kind. But if this information is true, and if my hunch is correct...”
>You trail off as you finish scanning, then meet Tene’s eyes.
“I think, in this very palace, there is a traitor in Her Majesty’s midst.”