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There were deserts before the Catastrophe, are there are deserts still on Equus, though every year the vegetation expands, driving them back into their ancient ranges. Legend says that the oldest of these is the Nameless Desert, once the heart of ancient Ponylon, the first Equine civilization. Occasionally, some wind-blasted ruins break the surface of of the sand, but the train passes too fast for you to get a good look at them. Before long, the endless shifting dunes will cover them again.

"Final station for this train is the Tower of the Curatrix. Arriving on time in five minutes," says a disembodied voice overhead. Looking around, apart from your party, there are only two other ponies on this car, a pair of curates in pointed hats who are keeping to themselves. They must have some business with the curatrix, or perhaps just with one of her staff at the Tower. Harmonia has wasted no time in reestablishing an orderly system of magical law, despite resistance to the idea from some quarters, typically those that had long wielded the power of magic unscrupulously over those who lacked it.

The train pulls into a small station. You step out onto the elevated platform, the midday sun bright overhead. A hundred meters away, a tower rises from the desert. It's about six stories, somewhat stout as these things go; there are sconces whose archmagi have taller towers, and a dozen buildings in the new capital outclass it in height. Ah, well, none of those buildings have alicorn princesses sitting in them.