@Zaknel
“I know, calm down now,” his officer stressed, his mane somewhat more ruffled. He seemed to be taking on some work in the last few days.
“The time for action has come, my dear Zaknel. . no more “observations” or any of that peacenik nonsense.” Zaknel’d realise that his officer was hinting to something more. . fitting of his position.
Amazingly, the officer didn’t smoke a cigar this time. “Action needs able ponies: Ponies like you, Zaknel. Your heart is pure and your faith in the monarchy great. That’s why I am trusting this task to you.”
He leaned back on his chair, having pushed the photograph of a posing group of well dressed gentlecolts and a few laborers.
“This is a new organisation called the “Fillydelphian Socialist Party”,” he spoke grimly about it, “their main goal is to rally the “Workers” and the “Proletariat” to “demonstrate” for whatever silly or posdibly even terrorist demands.”
“I need you to stop them from achieving this, but we can’t go at them with sheer direct force. So that’s why the munitions department was friendly to collaborate to provide you. . explosives.” He grinned, clapping both hands, the doors of his chamber opening with two Constables approaching the desk, setting down a leather bag on it. “I need you to destroy the HQ of these anarchist “gentlecolt” wannabes, make it look like a accident–” He looked to one of the Constables, “–elaborate more, will you?”
“Aye sir,” the Constable nodded, looking over to Zaknel, his young eyes having a soark of admiration flash. . or maybe Zaknel had hallucinated that? “The HQ of this “party” is in the Eastern Factories; A former press house they’ve bought as their new property. The pressing machines are clearly to be used to print Socialist propaganda opposing the diarchy! But of course, nobody would suspect
us police if the machines. . accidentaly blew up!”
Sabotage! So they wanted Zaknel to plant the bag of explosives in the building to both destroy it and make it look like an accident.
“Can you take on this task, Zaknel?” The question came from his officer, who by the look of his face expected a “yes”.