//------------------------------//
// 7-3 
// Story: Tales from Everfree City 
// by LoyalLiar 
//------------------------------//


VII - III



Her Majesty's Secret Weapon


Gale spent the night in her quarters in the Royal Palace, preferring to leave Typhoon her space at Hurricane's villa (though I'm not certain Typhoon was actually still there by the time Gale left Cloudsdale… but I suppose it's the thought that counts).  That evening, I am given to understand her 'aunt' Luna attended to her fraught sleep personally, though you shall have to be understanding, dear reader, that observing dreams dreamt so long ago is, while not impossible, not worth the effort of their recitation here.  Suffice it to say that, come the morning, Gale summoned the royal carriage, took quiet note of the fact that the number of knights accompanying it had doubled since the prior day's events, silently accepted Sir Chiseled Gem's offer of a leg up to enter its lonely confines, and gave directions to visit the home of the one Chancellor Puddinghead and, more relevantly, Secretary Peanut Gallery.

Upon her arrival, Queen Platinum III was led to what she could only regard as an elaborate greenhouse by one of Puddinghead's servants, built into the earth pony leader's home under the pretense that you could call a room a 'conservatory' even if it jutted twenty strides out of the side of the structure and had not only glass walls, but a full glass roof as well.  There, she found the anachronistically bubblegum pink coat of one Secretary Peanut Gallery (but in all seriousness, speaking as an archivist: ponies should have the decency not to be colored after items that haven't been invented yet), occupied with a watering can as he tended to what appeared to be an elaborate collection of fresh herbs.

"Good morning, Peanut," Gale greeted.

Peanut Gallery grinned around the handle of the watering can in his teeth, but took a few solid seconds to finish his watering before he turned.  "Gale; sorry about making you wait there.  Good morning to you too."  The earth pony politician strode over to Gale's side, and then extended a foreleg, offering a hug, which left Gale with a brow raised in curiosity.  "I heard about what happened yesterday," Peanut explained.

"And you're offering me a hug for it?" Gale chuckled, before stepping forward and accepting the embrace.  "Aren't you supposed to be pissed?  Mom said she had a deal with you about voting in Parliament."

"Well, I won't pretend it's not going to be a problem for us," Peanut answered, releasing Gale and taking a step back.  "But… between you, me, and the plants, I admire what you're doing.  I think it's the right thing for Equestria as a whole."

Perhaps a testament to a rate of becoming jaded that would put the most potent of petrification spells to shame, Gale only barely perked up at that.  "But let me guess.  You're not in a position to act on that admiration?"

Peanut raised a concerned brow.  "What gave you that idea?"

"Star Swirl.  My dad.  Aunt—sorry, Grand Duchess Chrysoprase… take your fucking pick, honestly."

"I see…"  Peanut nodded, and then glanced into the house for a moment.  "I can't help you for free, but I can help you.  Do you want me to cut to the chase, or can I offer you somewhere nicer to sit while we talk—maybe over some tea, or breakfast?"

Gale's eyes widened at the revelation that a deal was even a possibility.  "Um… Alright, let's hear it."

"Alright."  Peanut wandered toward the door that connected the 'conservatory' to his father's house proper, and from a small table near the door, he retrieved a tightly folded newspaper, which he lifted with a hoof, almost purely as a prop.  "Obviously, the front page story was about what happened outside, but I was more interested by what you said to the Stable the day before yesterday.  Since it's all second-hoof—you have no idea how much I envy the Stable for its rule banning reporters, sometimes—I do have to ask: how willing are you, actually, to go behind the Stable's back?"

"What do you mean?  You want me to lie to them?"

"No, no.  Nothing like that."  Peanut put down the paper again, and then laid a hoof on top of it.  "Like you apparently said in your meeting, the Stable doesn't officially get any sort of a say in your assigning of domains and noble titles.  You only need them to play along because of the stalemate in Parliament over actually allowing settling of the land."

Gale couldn't help but let out a well-intentioned scoff of disbelief.  "Wait, are you suggesting you're willing to push the settlement bill through Parliament without any mining reduction from the Stable?"

Peanut nodded somberly, and with some obvious hesitance.  "I need you to understand, Gale: I can't promise anything.  It's going to be a hard battle.  But it's a battle that Dad and I agree is in the best interest of the earth ponies… for a price."

"Alright," Gale grinned, before a little voice (the voice of her mother, in fact) tamped down on her excitement.  "What's the price?"

"The first domain you assign to a non-unicorn goes to an earth pony instead of a pegasus," Peanut stated firmly.

Gale chuckled.  "You want to be a baron?  Lord Gallery, of the House of… heh, 'the House of Parliament'?"

Peanut shared in the off-the cuff joke, though he shook his head as he chuckled.  "Gale, I hope you know I don't mean myself.  I can't accept any sort of position that would put you above me; I'm in line to succeed my father as Chancellor.  That would be like you taking a position in the Legion."

"What would be so wrong with that?" Gale asked, suddenly defensive.

"I… you're joking, right?" When Gale continued to wear a confused expression, Peanut raised a hoof toward his temple; only a glance at its slightly dirty state from tending to the greenhouse caused him to scrape it clean and brush it against his chest before he soothed himself.  "If I became a noble, every time I did something as a favor to you, ponies would be asking if I was doing it because I'd been ordered to."

Gale shrugged.  "So you quit when you become Chancellor?  That's what I was always going to do with the Legion—"

"You actually asked?" Peanut snapped out, before shaking his head.  "I'm sorry; it must be different for you, because Hurricane is your father.  I just… I can't imagine how many questions that would raise."

"Can we get back to the deal?" Gale asked tersely.  "Did you have somepony in mind, if not you?  Or did you want me to just grab the next earth pony I met on the street?"

Peanut shook his head, slightly amused at the idea.  "Thankfully, I did give this a thought.  Would you be opposed to Grainwood?"

"Grainwood?" Gale asked.  "Isn't she on the Taghfart?  You don't want somepony from Everfree that you can control a little better, instead of a Horseatic League representative?"

Peanut nodded slowly.  "In a perfect world, I'd name Representative Bond or Mrs. Rosemary.  But I need to sweeten the deal for the League if I'm going to get any of them to endorse voting for the settlement bill without the mining restriction your mother promised.  It's going to take a lot of work to whip my own loyal votes in your favor after... well, if you forgive me for being blunt, after you broke our deal."

"My Mom's deal."

Peanut nodded.  "True, but that doesn't make much difference to most of our representatives.  So the story I'm telling them is that I'm playing the long game.  We're going to keep giving you domains, you're going to keep putting earth ponies and pegasi in it, and we're going to use that opportunity to work toward getting domain land mining and inflation in check in the long term, instead of having to cut a costly deal every time inflation spikes and Tough Smith's 'invisible hoof' needs a firm nudge."

"A… what?  Invisible hoof?  What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Horseatic League economic theory.  Tough Smith, the most senior Tagfahrt envoy, wrote a book: 'Wealth of the Equestrian Tribes'.  The 'invisible hoof' is his way of describing how economic changes on a large scale happen even when nopony is consciously acting toward them."  Peanut wandered over to one of his plants, a sizeable sample of spearmint, and bit a single leaf off between his teeth.  He chewed it for a good few moments, before swallowing and then turning back to Gale.  "There is one other thing I need you to do if this is going to work."

"Ah… you want me to marry you, I'm guessing?" Gale asked, fully cynical in her tone.

Peanut winced at the condemnation in her voice, and then shook his head.  "No, no.  This is in my interest, I'm not going to throw it away holding that over your head.  I need you to whip some votes for me."

Gale turned her head nearly sideways.  "Um… what was that plant?  Did it make you lose your mind?  I'm not exactly going to be the most popular with the unicorn delegation already, and they sure-as-Tartarus aren't going to be on my side if I come asking them for their votes so I can go behind Aunt Chrysoprase's back on the Stable thing."

"Then it's a good thing I'm not suggesting you whip unicorn votes," Peanut told her.  "Talk to Commander Typhoon.  Get the pegasus delegation to vote in favor.  Use the plan to give them noble titles to get her buy-off if you have to.  Whatever it takes; if the unicorns are going to vote against the settlement bill, I have to have the pegasi, and it's theoretically against the Legion's interest to pass that bill, even if only barely.  Remember, the earth pony delegation may have a plurality of the votes, but we need a true majority to pass the bill."

"Oh…"  Gale sighed.

"Is there a problem with that?" Peanut asked.  "She is your sister… I had hoped that would make things easier."

"It'll be fine," Gale explained.  "I just… don't worry about it.  I'll work on getting you those votes."

"Just let me know when you do; I won't start moving too openly until I hear from you. I'd rather not bring this to a vote on the floor and then have it not pass.  That's a bad look for the secretary."

"I understand," Gale answered.  "Well, there's no time like the present then.  Thank you, Peanut.  Really."

"My pleasure, Gale.  I wish you a wonderful day."


⚜ ⚜ ⚜


From Peanut Gallery's home, Gale returned to Hurricane's villa.  Presumably, she intended to speak to her father, but she found the home in the terribly rare state of being completely abandoned: not just by Queen Platinum I being about town somewhere, and Commander Typhoon carrying on her business as the head of the Cirran Legion, but Hurricane and even Blizzard gone as well (presumably in one another's company).  Without any particularly good idea where to seek anypony out, Gale decided she would rather spend the time in the company of a friend, and so set out again in the direction of the Ridge (on hoof), hoping to catch up with yours truly.

Her timing was less than perfect, as I had already left for my reading lesson with Archmage Diadem, but at least unlike her previous stop, I had not left my household abandoned.  Perhaps justifiably, she found herself quite surprised when a featureless wooden face greeted her knock on the door.

"Woah, um… hi… new golem."

"And greetings to you too, Your Majesty," said the polished ponyquin, speaking with a slight Lubuck accent.

"You know who I am?  You don't sound like Angel…"

Gale's trailing off came from the fact that the 'golem' leaned slightly past the threshold of the door to glance up and down the street over Gale's shoulders, making sure nopony else was close by.  Then, utterly dropping his accent, the wood-bodied stallion nodded.  "We met once before, a couple of days ago.  Please, come inside and I'll explain."

"That voice…"  Gale scrunched up her whole face in thought, before releasing it in a lightning bolt 'eureka' moment.  "Sol—" This time, her abrupt cessation of speech was accompanied by the violent slamming of the house's front door, courtesy of a wooden hoof.  "…emn Vow," she finished, far more timidly.

"At your service, my queen" Vow answered, stepping away from the door and giving Gale one of the most practiced formal bows imaginable, including one forehoof held away and adjacent to his body as his muzzle nearly touched the floor.

"Morty raised you already?" Gale asked.  "Actually, is he around?"

"Morty is, unfortunately, not in right now.  I'll be glad to take your message for him, if you would like.  Though, if you'd prefer to wait, I wouldn't mind keeping you company.  There are some things we ought to discuss about your and Morty's goals for the future."  As he spoke, Vow gestured toward a side hallway.  "Will you let me whip you up a meringue pavlova, or a few tarts or something?  I've been missing cooking in Tartarus, and making breakfast for Morty got me in the mood to do some more challenging dishes."

"I… well, it is almost lunch time," Gale admitted.  "Sure."

"Excellent!" Despite not having a mouth to smile, Vow's body language made it altogether clear he was giddy at Gale's acceptance.  "I can never be grateful enough to Morty—or you, for agreeing to keep my little secret—but it really is a shame not to have a real mouth anymore."

"I would think a horn would be the bigger loss," Gale observed.  "Weren't you a big time wizard?"

Vow chuckled.  "I was older than Morty when I died, and he's already by far my better at magic, so I don't know if 'big time' really does my talents justice.  Honestly, most of what I was able to achieve with magic came less from extreme skill, and more from not being picky about what kind of magic I was using."  As he had been reflecting, Vow reached the door to the house's kitchen, and pushed it open without hesitation.  He was halfway across the floor to a rack of knives by the time Gale stepped into the room, and only then did he stop and turn to face her.  "Do you want a chair?  A cushion?"

"I'm fine, um… actually, what do I call you?  Do you prefer 'Vow'?  'Solemn'?  Or should I come up with a bullshit nickname like I did for Morty?"

The dead stallion gave a wooden shrug, turning back to his knives.  "I usually went by Vow with my friends.  The only pony who called me 'Solemn' was Typhoon."

Gale blinked in shock.  "Typhoon called you by a special name? Did she hate you that much?"

Vow, who had already formed a mouth in his otherwise featureless face to pick up a knife, demonstrated that he didn't need the mouth to speak when he shook his head.  "Not at the time, no."

"Really?"  Gale watched intently as Vow retrieved a small box of ripe strawberries from the kitchen's enchanted icebox.  "'Cause she offered Morty to pay for this house, if he'd let her burn it down."

"And here I thought twenty years might have worn down that edge at least a bit…"  Vow shook his head slowly, setting down the strawberries and the knife at one apparent 'station' in the kitchen, before moving back to the icebox to fetch some eggs.  "Well, I shouldn't bore Your Majesty with stories of Typhoon from twenty years ago; they're hardly relevant to today.  I mostly wanted to fill you in on how I'm helping Morty, and how you fit into that picture.  And then, if you'd like, I might offer my services as a sort of… clandestine advisor?"

"Well, if you want to help, old stories about Typhoon might actually be the most useful thing you can give me right now."

"Hmm?" Vow warped his blank wooden face to form an eyebrow ridge, solely for the sake of raising it.  "Now I'm intrigued.  Is this about the debacle outside the stable?"

"How do you know about that?"

Vow chuckled.  "Unlike my young master, I'm quite literate, and newspapers are cheap.  And more than that, years learning from your mother taught me to read between the lines when it comes to politics.  But I suspect I'm missing some context on how Typhoon fits into that situation.  It seems like a purely unicorn conflict—or, at most, ties in with the earth ponies who were expecting the deal on mining limits to come through."

I shall spare you yet another full re-iteration of the circumstances with a brief summary: Gale detailed to Solemn Vow the full details of her argument with Typhoon over where to place blame for the Stable incident, and then of Peanut Gallery's offer of circumventing the Stable of Nobles to grant Gale domains to assign.

As she spoke, Vow gathered flour and sugar and a few other ingredients, and began deftly mixing them, making full use of the magical flexibility of the wooden body I had created for him (presumably making up for the lack of a horn he was more used to).  By the time Gale was done with her story, she saw Vow placing a tray of tarts into an oven—one he had not bothered to light or stoke in any way, though the sight of a few subtly glowing runes inscribed on the iron walls and a visible layer of condensed cloud near the top of the chamber suggested there was more magic to his baking than one might expect of a usual pastry chef.

Vow finally answered her as he walked back over the station where he had set his strawberries.  "Well, you're in luck—of a sort.  But as with any problem solved by pure luck, there's going to be a catch."

Gale's muzzle wrinkled.  "Another one of Mom's quotes?"  When Vow frowned around the handle of his knife, she waved a hoof dismissively.  "Don't mind that.  How do you mean 'blind luck'?  I was actively looking for an answer."

"With me?" Vow asked.  "You didn't even come here looking for me; you came here looking for Morty, no?  But that's irrelevant to the catch.  I can tell you what you want to know, but the problem is, there are very few ponies alive who know what I can tell you.  And when you reveal that you know, Typhoon will want to know who told you."

"It's a secret?" Gale asked.

"Without a doubt," Vow agreed.  "Typhoon told me in utmost confidence, only after years of knowing her.  I don't know who else knows, but it isn't especially hard to guess."

"Okay…"  Gale nodded.  "So, tell me, and then we can figure it out?"

Vow let out the sound of a sigh, set down his knife and nodded with namesake solemnity.  "Gale, do you know who Tempest's father is?"

Gale shrugged.  "All I know is he died fighting Cyclone's rebellion."

Vow's wooden muzzle swung from side to side with all the weight of a pendulum.  "Tempest's father died fighting on behalf of Cyclone's rebellion."

"Oh.  Shit."  Gale swallowed.  "Ty was fucking a traitor?"

"I'm afraid it's worse… Perhaps I should just tell you it all as bluntly as possible.  Tempest's father was a stallion named Shattered Gem."

"Gem?" Gale asked, brow raised.  "Like Chiseled Gem?  The head of the knights?"

"Sir Chiseled Gem is Tempest's paternal grandfather," Vow explained, with a nod.  "Shattered was his son."

"Wait… but you said his dad died fighting on behalf of Cyclone.  Why the fuck would a unicorn ever sign on for that?"

At that, Vow hung his head.  "I can't guarantee I know all his motives.  But the lesser Gem was a twisted, vile creature; and yes, I do say that knowing who I lived to be.  Cyclone needed a… what is the pegasus term… a casus belli to justify his rebellion to his own troops, and win over as much of the population as possible.  And the best possible justification he could imagine was if his own younger sister, the carefree daughter of the Emperor himself, were stolen away by unicorns—presumably murdered.  And Gem, the son of the head of the unicorn army—as sad and depleted as it was by that time—was the perfect pony to arrange it.  He agreed to hide Typhoon in the dungeons of Burning Hearth, and keep her unharmed until Cyclone was ready to free her.

"The only problem is, Gem didn't completely keep his end of the bargain.  He locked her up, certainly, but… well, there's no gentle way to say this.  While Typhoon was in his care, Gem took advantage of her.  He and his repulsive subordinates."

Gale stumbled with words for a moment, before finally shaking her head.  "They raped her?"

"For virtually the entire time she was imprisoned.  Eventually, Star Swirl discovered her and freed her, but the damage had already been done.  She was… if not your age, younger, I think.  She killed Gem, rather brutally, but that didn't give her much solace either, as she described it."

Gale's legs fell out from behind her, and she stared past Vow, into a blank space that certainly wasn't in the kitchen.  It was a gray void.  A place where words regretted were the mountains that made the horizon, and dust swirled in an endless dance.

"Per your conversation with this 'Frostfall' pony you mentioned: that is almost certainly the memory that makes her so terrifyingly powerful with her ice.  The night she told me that story, the ice flowed off of her wings for hours—not as violently as you described in your argument, but I imagine no less frigid."

"Why did Typhoon trust you enough to tell you that story?"

"That is a story for another time, Your Majesty," said Vow.  "Not that I intend to keep any secrets; just that I don't want your dealing with your sister to be clouded by any other complicated history.  Now, if you'll humor me: who do you think knows the story I just told you?"

Gale cocked her head for a second—presumably not in thought so much as at the way Vow had posed the question. "Well, Typhoon, obviously.  Tempest… maybe?"

"That one, I cannot answer.  He certainly did not know when I died, but given he was only a few years old then…"  Vow completed the trailed-off thought with a shrug.

"Dad has to know, given he would have been there when Typhoon was pregnant, and he was basically Tempest's dad too…"  

For just the barest hint of a breath, some ripple of expression slipped over Vow's blank face.

"Um… Honestly, I have no clue who else."

"There are two more that I know of.  One, I can hardly fault you, because you never had a chance to meet her.  Namely, your father's sister, Twister.  I can imagine why you would have seanced Typhoon's mother first, but Swift Spear died in Cyclone's rebellion, so she never would have known what happened to her daughter.  Whereas Twister might still be alive today, were she not quite such an effective player in defending the Legion to the public."

"You killed Aunt Twister?" Gale asked, frowning.  "Dad and Typhoon talk about missing her sometimes…"

Vow shrugged.  "You know who I am, so while you have my apologies, I doubt they mean much.  I will suggest you seance her some time, if only to enjoy the company of a truly pleasant, and remarkably quick-witted mare.  She was your father's queenpin in the Equestrian Senate, and I was never going to abolish exclusive pegasus control of the Legion as long as she was alive, but for what it's worth, I very much enjoyed her company."

Gale winced at that.  "Holy shit."

"Was my bluntness uncomfortable?" Vow asked, opening the oven and removing the tray of tarts without bothering to use any sort of handle or cloth whatsoever—the wood, being magically reinforced, simply did not care about the heat.

"It's… in a sort of taboo way, it's refreshing.  The honesty, I mean, not the murder.  Obviously.  I just always feel like ponies like Mom are thinking that kind of shit, but they're all smiles.  Or worse, it's the other way around, and they hate your fucking guts but they put on the show for the sake of politics."  Gale shook her head.  "Why the fuck am I venting at you of all ponies?"

"Because I cannot betray you, any more than I could betray Morty, without risking losing my immortal soul and my one chance at escape, and returning to an eternity of suffering in the deepest pit of Tartarus, reserved only for traitors so vile that they can speak the way I just spoke and actually mean it?"  Vow had slipped into an almost poetic tone as he finished that small diatribe, and he chuckled when he was done.  "I tease just a bit, but in some sense, I am your most loyal confidante, because you hold nigh-infinite blackmail over me.  And lest that make you uncomfortable, that is a situation that I entered into knowingly and willingly.  Though, perhaps that's more a concern of Morty's than yours."

"I'm not gonna lose any sleep over you feeling a little uncomfortable, no," Gale answered.  "But I do appreciate your help.  Now, who's the fourth name?"

"Sir Chiseled Gem," Vow answered simply.  "I know a little bit better than you could, because I know he occasionally offered to look after little Tempest—and when Typhoon expressed she wanted him to keep his distance, he still insisted on at least sharing quite a few bits with her.  But even without that knowledge, I would hope it's fair to assume he might know because somepony would eventually tell him what happened to his son."  That last explanation finished, Vow began to assemble his sliced berries onto the fresh tarts.

"Ah.  So, I'm guessing you suggest I go to Gem?"

"In this case, I don't really have a suggestion," Vow answered.  "You're going to know whether it's easier for you to come up with a story that led you to Twister, or to Gem, or if you can somehow get him to speak, your father.  I can't guarantee Twister would talk either; in that regard Gem is your best bet.  But of course, it's going to be hard to justify that you went to Gem if you didn't already know what happened to begin with."  Vow shrugged.  "Without knowing how well you know those different ponies, I think a list of options is the best I can do.  Well, that, and a couple of tarts."

"A couple?" Gale asked.  "They're both for me?"

"One needs certain things to enjoy a tart.  A tongue, an esophagus… you get the idea, I'm sure."  Vow chuckled, and after a couple of strides, produced a knife and a fork for Gale.  "There is one last thing I can offer you, and that is a word of warning about Peanut Gallery's offer."

"You think I should turn him down?  You think I shouldn't go behind the Stable's back?"

"Defensive, are we?" Vow teased, leaning against the counter.  "Whether or not stabbing the Stable in the back is a good move depends very much on what your future goals are, beyond this multi-tribal Stable idea, and how much you're going to need the Stable's help to accomplish them.  Certainly, I would think having the Stable on your side would make it much easier to justify titling Morty."

"You want me to title Morty?" Gale asked.  "That will completely give up the game about trying to take him as a suitor, and—"

"We're taking care of that," Vow interrupted.  "We're going to arrange for Morty to build up a domain, some sort of claim to a minor title on a presumably dead branch, and enough popular good will that your recognizing him will really just be a formality.  Morty was very explicit that he didn't want his pursuit of your hoof to harm your rule."

"Holy shit…" Gale muttered.  "You really have this planned out, don't you?"

"It isn't all that different from what I was doing two decades ago.  Just slower, because I'm not allowed to assassinate anypony this time.  Though we may eventually have to have Morty duel Star Swirl over the Court Mage's title, and if it does come to that, I somehow doubt Morty could win that duel without killing the old bastard."

Gale swallowed.  "Star Swirl might be my closest ally in the Stable.  I'm not exactly sure getting rid of him is a good idea."

"Your Majesty, with respect—you have Celestia's direct endorsement, in the flesh.  Nopony in the world could challenge that claim."

Gale had, despite her own efforts to the contrary, become quite the reader of faces from her various tutors in the political arts and her long hours spent in her mother's company in various chambers of the Equestrian state.  Vow's face, as featureless as it was, could have fairly been called a bit cheating, but Gale could have sworn she saw just a flicker of something in that moment.

Vow, however, was the senior statespony, and pushed the conversation on before the observation could even settle.  "Returning to that final word of warning, though: if you do take the young Secretary up on his offer, you may wish to control his new noble more carefully than most, or you may wish to force him to choose a different earth pony representative."

"Why?  What's wrong with Grainwood?  The fact that she's with the Horseatic League?"

Vow chuckled as he shook his head.  "No.  The fact that she's Puddinghead's spymaster."

"No she's not!  She's not even a centralist; she's Horseatic League!  Plus everypony knows Mr. Shade is—son of a bitch…"  In case Gale's flow of dialogue did not make this abundantly clear, her eyes widened in realization midway through her objection.  "Would she even have been old enough to have been the spymaster twenty years ago?"

"Coincidentally, there was a sudden opening in the ranks immediately above her position that jumpstarted her career at just about that time," Vow joked with unsettling mirth.  "Em Dash had a bit more political insight than Puddinghead, and realized that even though I was ostensibly anti-Legion only, the rising tide was going to benefit us a lot more than the earth ponies."  Actively forming a cheek just to grin, Vow added "The wonderful part about killing spies is nopony is allowed to make a big deal out of it."

"Okay… So if Peanut is trying to sneak his spymaster into the Stable, you suggest I turn him down?"

"Well, I wouldn't say that.  When you were ignorant, Grainwood's introduction to the Stable would have been the earth pony's gain and your loss.  Now that you know, if you're careful about how she is used, she can just as easily be your asset.  If you aren't comfortable manipulating her—whether in an ethical sense, or in your confidence to lie to a professional spy to her face—may I suggest giving her to your… Chyrsoprase is your great aunt, correct?  In any case, I think Grainwood would make quite a peace offering to the leader of the Stable, if you offer her up on a silver platter, as it were."

"She's a pony," Gale observed tersely, pulling her tarts closer with her magic and lifting her silverware.

"I'm afraid whoever you insert into the Stable is going to be treated like a pawn on the board of the great game, Your Majesty, and very much not like a pony unto themselves.  Unless you intend to elevate them to a fully Ducal title, where they would have real power in their own right, their influence in the world is going to be completely decided by what house they find themselves bannered to.  If it makes you feel any better, though, I will encourage you to remind yourself: Grainwood is an extremely intelligent mare, and she almost certainly chose this life for herself even knowing its ups and downs.  If the newspaper was accurate with your other proposed choice, Iron Rain is almost certainly to be the more miserable of the two new nobles.  And if you intend to give one of them over to the… shall we say the 'weeping and gnashing of teeth' that is being bannered to one of the other Great Houses, well, you can at least assure yourself that the earth pony can hold her own."

"You think Rain can't?"

"I think Iron Rain is very good at solving problems she can attack with a gigantic sword she stole from a griffon sixty years ago.  The Stable isn't that."

Gale nodded, looking down at her tarts, but still not quite yet taking a bite.  "Well.  You've been very helpful, Vow.  I think I need to go find Sir Gem once I finish these, and then talk to Typhoon and set things right.  But I think I have a plan for turning this fucking Stable disaster around."

"Well, then, as one last parting thought: Typhoon adores the flavor of calla lilies.  Just avoid the dark red ones."  Vow stepped away from Gale, beginning to tidy up the kitchen while also obviously giving her room to eat.

"What's wrong with dark red?" Gale asked over his shoulder.

"I used to give her those," Vow answered cryptically.

Though that parting thought went unquestioned—Gale's mouth being full of tart—it did set spinning no small few further wonders in her own mind, all filed away for her next visit with the dead stallion.  

The tarts, by contrast, were both simple and delectable.