//------------------------------// // Occultation // Story: A Total Eclipse Of The Fun // by Estee //------------------------------// "That may be what you and your staff claim, Princess Luna -- but can you prove for the innocent victims --" The reporter stopped herself, indulged in a slight chuckle which made the broken scales on her flanks quiver. "I'm sorry," she lied, "I meant innocent citizens of Equestria that you do not in fact have the power to enthrall a pony?" It was the next day, and less than an hour away from becoming next night. The sisters had chosen to use the Lunar Courtyard for this press conference, marking one of the very few times they'd faced the hordes together. (Luna had put a first-class imaginary Moon in the day sky, one that looked exactly as it should for the largest and fullest Moon in Equestria's history. Perhaps six reporters had bothered to notice, and only two had written anything down.) Celestia was doing her best to remain silent during Luna's answers, not wanting to create any public impression of her overriding half the throne's words -- or authority. Not that some of the ponies in front of them wouldn't make it up anyway, but... when the questions came like this, she wound up perilously close to biting her own tongue. Celestia was all too aware that her sister, when under pressure, was capable of saying anything -- along with the fact that 'saying' could be the least of it. And it really wasn't a good time to imagine field-clutched (and generally ignored) notepads catching on fire either. Just in case her subconscious suddenly decided to take her seriously. The tension was visible in Luna's body: the planting of her hooves and width of the stance, the way the stars in her mane grew brighter while the borders twisted more rapidly. She still hadn't calmed down completely from the previous morning's fight -- which had been quick: the Guards had, even with their training, still made the same mistake most combatants did. They saw horns and moved in to stop magic first and foremost -- which in this case had left them rapidly defeated by an arsenal of pegasus techniques. A quick battle -- but not yet even remotely forgotten, and the cries which had led to it might have still been echoing in her ears. Celestia had tried to tell her that they had been stupid words spoken by extremely stupid ponies. ('Extremely' had been understated by several magnitudes.) It hadn't helped as much as she'd hoped. "I have already told you: I cannot," Luna made herself continue. "As with all who work unicorn magic, my signature is unique and cannot be replicated." A minor lie: there were ways to distort a signature, but it required the caster to possess a field dexterity score at the outermost range of the Luna Meter (Adjusted) chart -- which both sisters did. However, a distorted signature, even combined with a field hidden from sight, still left behind traces for feel to pick up, and so... "Princess Celestia was examined by the best magic detectors Canterlot had to offer -- and thus, the best in the realm. They did not record so much as a single thaum of my workings upon her." Celestia forced herself not to sigh. That process had not been fun. In order for her to truly be inspected, she'd had to bring herself down to a personal state of magic-null so as to avoid any chance of confusing the reading. (No matter how the visuals might appear, as siblings, their signatures were very close.) Going null was an easy process for most unicorns: just cancel any workings that might have been in place, then leave the field off for a few minutes. But in their mutual after, magic rode with them in casual manifest at nearly all times: only total exhaustion or a very deliberate, extraordinarily difficult effort could temporarily negate it. An effort she hadn't had a reason to make for generations. The inspectors had been the first ponies in over two centuries to see her actual mane and tail. If she'd had any personal power to enthrall, she would have considered using it on the spot to make them keep their silence. As it was, a glare -- one that was, in retrospect, somewhat harsher than it should have been -- had been enough. "So you could have stopped doing it long enough for the inspection and then resumed!" the reporter challenged, clearly enjoying herself just a little too much. "Still not proof, Princess!" Luna took a very slow breath. Several ponies around that one quasi-journalist automatically moved in such a way as to create a blast zone radius. "Very well. Apart from assuming that in such a ridiculous scenario, my residual traces were somehow not detected and Princess Celestia would not use her moment of freedom to alert everypony around her --" "-- all of whom you might have enthralled right then and there to stop her!" "...may I have your name, please?" "...come again?" "Your name. I am aware that you are from the Murdocks Press Corps. With your mark, you could hardly be associated with anypony else. But this is your first time at a royal press conference, is it not? At least for one where I am in attendance?" The mare smiled. There should have been points on her teeth, and it was a pity that there were not. "I do generally go to the Solar Courtyard, yes. My name is Wordia Spinner, Princess Luna, and it is a pleasure to introduce myself to the junior throne. Now -- if you would provide the proof I had asked for?" "Actually," Luna slowly said -- She's smiling. I know that smile. One dragon had that smile as the last thing she ever saw. Celestia prepared to counter. "-- now that I think about it, I rather agree with you, at least in part." Ms. Spinner blinked. "I'm -- not sure I understand you, Princess." Certainly not in that Luna might be about to agree with her, much less admit to having enthralled Celestia -- and the later would have emptied the Courtyard in seconds, not so much from ponies rushing to file stories as a desperate attempt to flee for their lives while trampling as many rivals as they could along the way. "You clearly believe the power to enthrall would be a danger. Now, such a personal spell has never been recorded in the Canterlot Archives. It is generally only found in the realm of fiction, although I believe it makes the occasional break for it and takes a vacation in the lands of conspiracy theory. But if such a spell did exist, a danger is exactly what it would be. And so I will not release a single pony from this Courtyard tonight until every last one of you has proven that you cannot enthrall anypony. Ms. Spinner, you shall go first." More blinking. It seemed to be the only way of indicating desperation she had. "But -- how do I do that?" "An interesting question," Luna allowed. "So to help answer it, I will sacrifice -- at least potentially -- the safety of my own mind, knowing Princess Celestia is standing by to help me should all else fail. You shall attempt to enthrall me. If you cannot, you may leave the Courtyard once the conference ends." "Wait..." Ms. Spinner was having some trouble with the concept. "I can't enthrall anypony..." "Prove it." "...how?" "You are a unicorn. Use your field on me. See if enthralling occurs. If it does not, I would simply say 'I am not enthralled' and release you." Luna's smile grew slightly wider as she tilted her head slightly to the right, much as if greeting an idea which had just arrived. "Of course -- if you could enthrall me, that would be the very first thing you should make me say..." The logic bomb landed in the direct center of the theoretical blast radius and detonated, taking out the query and every member of the variation family, leaving behind only an orphaned ellipsis to carry on. "...withdrawn." Luna nodded, granting permission for the virtual corpse to be removed from the battlefield. "If you must. Incidentally, if I could enthrall ponies and make them do whatever I wished, a number of you would be asking much more intelligent questions..." And looked to Celestia. The older sister took the helm and was thankful for the chance to speak, as it kept her from publicly applauding. "Other than explaining yesterday's events --" the non-summary nearly stuck in her throat "-- we asked you all here tonight to attend a demonstration and serve the public in the typical manner of your profession." She was going to be washing the taste of that sentence off her tongue for days. "We are going to show you an illusionary version of what the true eclipse will look like. As this still involves manipulation of light, you'll all need to put the glasses we provided for you on and yes, we're going to collect them again afterwards. After that, we'll explain everything the eclipse will and will not do. There are effects: tides will be slightly altered and may be slightly higher in some regions. The glasses are essential to protect vision, and I certainly hope you will convey the absolute necessity of wearing them for all observers. But as for what it does not do... it does not permanently block or excise Sun. It is fully incapable of damaging plants or animals: there's less loss of light than would be experienced during the harshest thunderstorm, and animals won't look at it on their own." A distant memory recaptured. "If you'll take a quick look at the one-sheet you were given when you entered..." Celestia counted the ones who did. About twenty percent. Down from her last solo press conference and sure to drop further in the moons to come. "...you'll see that the period of totality will only last about eight minutes. Long enough to appreciate and record... then gone until the next anniversary celebration, by which time we should have enough glasses to bring it into more of the settled zones. Now, I do ask that you describe the eclipse for your readers in the strongest detail I know you're capable of giving." Cleansing her tongue with sorbets for moons. "You may take pictures as well to show the stages, but I'm asking you not to do a frame-by-frame photo spread -- let the full process come as a surprise to the viewers. Ultimately, fillies and gentlecolts, what we're asking you to do is spread the word. We want everypony in the realm to know exactly what an eclipse is. You'll do what you do best -- convey the news in truth and accuracy." There might not have been enough sorbet in all the world. Celestia nodded to Luna, needing a break before the words turned any fouler in her mouth. Luna's field exerted, surrounded and moved the model of the continent they'd been using during their calculations. "The demonstration will be in two stages. First, a miniature, which will leave the ceramic as unharmed as the land will be during the real. Something small, to allow you that first glimpse of the concept in action. After that, the Courtyard itself shall experience the illusion. We will take more questions -- and then to your printing presses for the fulfillment of your duties." A reporter from the Trottingham Gazette flashed his field twice: Luna nodded to him. "Speak." "Princess Luna -- it says here on the one-sheet that you and Princess Celestia went through eclipses yourselves, correct?" the member of the for-now twenty percent asked. "Many," Luna confirmed. "What was the general time of separation between the events?" That got a small frown from Luna. "It was the age of Discord's rule, citizen... he was not one for reliable schedules. Sometimes there would be several moons between them. Three in a day was the most we ever saw. The reason for your question?" "Just wondering about recovery time for any of those small effects -- but if they were that frequent at any point and we're here to listen, I think we're okay. Thank you." Another horn flashed: Luna inclined her own towards it. "Garoun Charger, your Highnesses, Canterlot News Networkers." One of those who attended Luna's conferences: Celestia hadn't seen him before, and thus the introduction. She would have remembered the frazzled grey-white mane and hangdog eyes. "How are ponies supposed to get used to this idea? Even a temporary blockage of Sun... the concept itself might be enough to do harm for a very few." Celestia and Luna exchanged a subtle side glance mastered over decades, unnoticed by all spectators: Celestia won. "We have ponies faint when bunnies stampede through the streets, Mister Charger. There will always be ponies who panic no matter how harmless things are -- once the glasses are donned -- or how well we explain things to them. It's their first resort and for some, nearly the only way they deal with things at all. I haven't allowed Equestria to sit in eternal stasis for more than a thousand years because somepony would always be terrified of the new. We're always going to try the different when we can: it's how we advance as a nation. For those who are scared no matter what we do -- all I can say is 'Please don't be'. And if you still don't feel you can take the stress of the eclipse, remain indoors. Nopony has to look if they don't want to. But they will miss something special." The reporter nodded. "Still -- if this is going to be an annual event on any level -- getting used to it..." Another glance: Luna took the skirmish. "You wish for ponies to become accustomed to eclipses?" Another nod. "Very well -- then I give you the chance, Mister Charger. Starting now, should I need to host a press conference during the day, the Lunar Courtyard will exist in a state of eclipse throughout that gathering -- and that will continue from this point forward. We may hold a few between now and the holiday simply to update you on the state of glasses inventory, along with allowing you that opportunity." Garoun Charger swallowed. Three times. "...Princess Celestia?" "It's not my Courtyard," Celestia smiled. "Actually, Mister Charger, we're going to let you keep your glasses. I think you're going to need them. Now if everypony will direct their gazes and cameras at the model -- no need to shield your eyes for this scale, my little ponies -- we'll begin." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Most newspapers labored throughout the night and published their editions just before the Sun was raised. Celestia generally managed to get the first copies off the press, nearly all of which had to be paid for out of the palace budget. Only a few publications bothered to send her free ones and the Murdocks Press Corps, asked about a special delivery for the Princesses, had printed them their very own edition -- one where the only difference between theirs and the standard was the price. Regular pony: four-tenths of a bit. Celestia or Luna: five thousand, payment in advance, no Royal Vouchers. She'd teleported the delivery pony back herself along with a note reading Delivery Refused which came with seven pounds of legal notation attached. (Celestia had never seen Murdocks himself. She knew how old he was, where he had been born, the fact that 'he' was the right pronoun to use -- basics. Beyond that, the publisher hid from all inquiries, sent ponies to speak for him in legal matters, and bribed others not to speak, mostly with counterfeit bits which he always claimed had been passed into his possession without knowledge. She was becoming very curious for a look at his face, mostly so she could put it on a dartboard.) She'd sent a member of her staff out to gather as many different publications as could be found, and to preferably do so before the Luna-sent counterpart finished the job. And now she was speed-reading. Also speed-tooth-grinding, speed-sighing, and speed-dartboard-trajectory-plotting... ...and there was the scream. Too late. Luna flew into the room. She had flown into a rage before ever getting there. "What is wrong with them?" "Luna..." "I was there! You were there! I had two of my staff write down every word everypony said so that there would be no chance of error in the record for what had truly happened!" Celestia sighed. "Luna, it's about sales..." Her sister wasn't going to be slowed down by four words any more than she had by one. "We told them it might have some small effect on the tides! Raise the water by an extra amount which would perhaps cover me from hoof to ankle! And what do I read? 'Both thrones admitted there was a measurable chance of having the seas rise and flood the coasts'! Yes, it is a measurable chance! I am perfectly capable of measuring zero!" "...I can probably get them to print a retraction..." In small print. Microscopic. Perhaps with one tiny letter inside the loops of every other larger one. In reverse order. Read the entire paper backwards under the strongest magnifiers available and discover nopony had bothered to sign the non-apology. Nine didn't stand a chance either. "'With the so-called protective glasses only tested by a few, the real safety granted by the Discord-inspired devices is unknown...' They tested them! None of them were hurt! You even caught the one who tried to take them off halfway through just so he could undoubtedly sue the thrones for his self-inflicted injury! And then we get into more invocations of Discord and chaos and the implication that surely we have fallen to his influence in order to bring forth such madness! It must be him, since we did at least manage to prove that we have no capacity to enthrall each other... He is laughing within his stone shell, sister: I can almost hear him now. Or perhaps he has placed at least some part of himself outside it, let that portion form a pony body, and named it Murdocks!" At which point even Luna needed to take a breath. Celestia flew up a few feet, gently placed her right front hoof on her sister's right shoulder. "Luna, some of them feel fear will sell better than calm for every edition. I made the press free and several immediately assumed that included the freedom to purposefully distort -- a number which only increased over the years. But not everypony takes them seriously." Luna sighed, hovered in place, let the paper drop from her field. Several pages were coated in thin layers of ice. "A more than sufficient number do. One is too great a tally..." Downcast in midair. "Explain to me again why a free press is a good idea?" "I would if I could remember," Celestia dryly replied. "And no -- no matter how much you insist, we still can't have a government-sponsored newspaper: the mere idea makes me feel like we'd be doing something wrong. They watch each other, Luna. Some distort, some at least try to tell the truth, and a very few are nearly readable, at least for short stretches before the editorial corruption sets in." They both took a moment for not thinking about a certain Gabby Gums. (Luna had escaped that one. Celestia was still trying to get her field on the entire print run.) Another sigh. "Then why even have the press conference, if the distortions were the inevitable result?" Celestia smiled at her, went back to floor level: her sister reluctantly followed. "Because it's the only way to find out what the distortions would be. We have the lies -- and that means we can answer them. I can't think about having my own newspaper without feeling as if I'm about to develop a very unique facial tic -- but the government does publish. All we need now is a more comprehensive one-sheet -- something that answers all of these charges and gives out the truth. And then we run off enough for everypony in the realm and make sure they all at least pretend to read them. For Canterlot and Ponyville, we add public meetings. Maybe revive the post of town crier: at least they were somewhat accurate... It'll be fixed in time for the eclipse, Luna. We won't get everypony: we never can. Some will refuse to read, or listen, and all they'll ultimately pay attention to is the voice in their head. But even those are going to be wearing glasses. If the Guards have to strap them on... well, I can put up with a few accusations of cruelty from having the horrible pressure of the bridge over a snout in exchange for not having any ponies blinded, even for the ones who did it to their willingness for seeing the real before we ever reached them." Luna took another breath, a much slower one, settled her feathers back into place and waited for her tail to stop twisting. "We proceed?" Celestia closed her eyes and thought about the upcoming eclipse -- but only for a second. Ever since Luna had made the demonstration, Celestia had found herself thinking about eclipses in general. Ones in that distant before, receding more with every passing year. A before which seemed so much closer now. As did those who'd watched them with her. "Just try and stop me." Celestia deliberately stepped on the Princess Plot: Equestria At Risk headline as she headed for the door. "We've seen the worst of it now, Luna..." And with the majority of her attention on before, she never stopped to question whether she should have said that aloud. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- There were three to five of them. They refused to count themselves. It was more secure that way. It may be best to describe them by what they would, should they be so unfortunate as to be captured by what was now clearly completely untrustworthy authority, insist they were not. They were certainly not former employees of the palace who had worked as head chef and line cooks. They had not been fired by a very tight-lipped Princess Celestia for inciting a riot during the first eclipse demonstration. Surely the ponies who had tried to escape and warn the populace before the Guards caught up and dragged them back were coincidental near-twins: it was a big continent and there were only so many color combinations possible, right? Or there were enemy agents operating in disguise in order to ruin the good names of completely innocent ponies. But those ponies were not them. However many of them there actually were. Yes, they were most certainly not former line cooks and a head chef. They could see no way for others to prove that they ever had been, at least not if the group was careful. In their minds, the fact that they referred to each other by code names like Saucier and Chef were no clues at all, which should tell you rather a lot about their minds. And surely nopony in the world would understand why they were certainly not referring to the group as -- well, we'll get there. Nopony except -- the enemy. "So we're agreed?" said the one who was not Chef, at least not in a way that still had a royal pay stub attached. "Of course," said one who was not even remotely (truly, at all, in any way) a pony called Saucier and therefore established the minimum number. "Me, I never thought she changed at all. She proved she had evil left in her the first time she came into the kitchen." "She did? Why didn't you say anything about it?" Another -- fortunately, nopony else was listening to start an outside count, because that would have brought them to four -- snorted. "Because every time he says anything that isn't 'Yes, Chef!', you scream at him for twenty minutes." "Shut up, Sous." "Yes, Chef." "So how did you know she was still evil, Meat?" (Incidentally, holding on four.) "Because she came up to me and directly asked why we had a meat station." "And what did you tell her?" emerged once the group gasps of horror and shock had died away. "That we had visitors who were carnivores and omnivores. Delegations from some of the other nations and intelligent races. And that as a pony with the unique mark for preparing and serving meat --" "A mark you should have covered before you came here tonight! You're too distinctive! There's one pony in Equestria with a sizzling steak on their flanks, and he's standing right in front of me!" "-- oh, but I can always claim somepony else painted that mark on themselves..." "No, you can't," said the youngest, who might or might not have been the actual Saucier. "Attempts to cover marks with anything except clothing always wear off quickly." "What do you know? If you knew anything real, you'd be on another station!" "I know about concealing marks. And why you can't." "Fine. Just to shut you up, I'll wear -- pants." "You don't own pants." "Then I'll wear my cook's uniform!" Calmly, "But I thought we can't afford to go around looking like we're cooks." "...look, she's evil because when I told her why we had a meat station, she said 'Very well, but I do not have to like it'! She doesn't like meat!" "You don't like meat. Nopony likes meat," pointed out Saucier, who certainly would have been recorded at the bottom of the counter-revolution's rankings if only anypony in the world outside their circle had been privy to such secret information. (To their leader, the rankings were obvious: there was a Chef and there was Scum. Scum did the vast majority of the actual cooking.) "You can't even taste your own dishes." "How is that even a point? She doesn't fully accept the meat station! How is that not evil?" "And not only that," said Chef, who had fifteen years of cooking qualifications in order to not have that name and had dropped out of real school in his third year because he had convinced himself no other form of knowledge was important, "she's -- a mare." The group went silent for a moment. "Mares are weak," said Sous, who hadn't made it through his fourth year. "Mares mess everything up," claimed Meat, who had walked by a school once, right up until the moment he'd realized what he was passing and accelerated into full gallop before any of the evil learning could get him. "Mares can't cook," declared Chef with the confidence of a stallion whose typical response to being questioned about anything was the permanent removal of that doubt from his life, generally without bothering to open the door first. "And that makes them weak ponies who mess everything up. They will never be true chefs. Everypony knows that." "My mother cooked for me," Saucier said. Chef glared at him. Normally, Saucier would have been out the door by now, even if doing so left a pony-shaped hole. But there were so few of them (however many there were), and they couldn't afford to lose a single pony, no matter how blatantly stupid and corrupted by non-cooking knowledge he was. Assuming he was a 'he'. Which they all were. Because mares self-evidently shouldn't be in professional kitchens. "That's not real cooking." Saucier took a deep breath. "The head of the Lunar brigade is a mare." "Yes, and that's my point!" Chef shouted. "A mare was hired! To cook! Ahead of qualified stallions! How does that not prove evil in every way? We were all there when it happened and we let it happen just because she's in charge of -- things which aren't important!" (Any part of existence which wasn't a kitchen.) "We should have seen it coming before that -- eclipse..." A brief, intense moment of silent horror was interrupted only by Saucier, who had said more words in this single meeting (which was in no way taking place) than he had during his entire employment. "Didn't Princess Celestia hire her?" "Clearly she was already enthralled. Those fools in the press just can't see it. But we -- we are chefs. Well -- I am. And the rest of you never will be, because you're not competent enough and it's only my leadership that keeps you from burning everything in sight. You can't even hold a pasta station without my help." Pasta (that's five now, right?) thought about just who had been the only pony to flee from the stand mixer and rather sensibly said nothing. "But you're all I have. And we're battle-trained," Chef said with a coating of self-satisfaction that needed about two tablespoons of salt and one giant dose of reality. "We've been fighting the Lunar forces for so long..." Of course, it went without saying that all the losses were somepony else's fault. "...and they didn't know they were getting us ready for the real war. We know Princess Celestia is enthralled: we're the only ponies who do know it, and we can't tell anypony else. Not even those who might be on our side in the press -- I'm betting the usurper has spies there, just in case. But there's -- enough of us..." (Everypony tried not to automatically count.) "...and we can get the job done. It can't be natural, making this -- thing -- happen. She'll have to use a lot of power to do it. When she's in the middle of it, that's when she's weakest. We'll strike -- and we'll free our Princess." "Who's a mare," Saucier noted with what might have been a slight suicidal streak. "We've been ruled by a weak mare who messes everything up for more than a thousand years." "Right! Because she can't cook! We all know she can't cook! But --" suddenly aware that blasphemy wasn't so much around the corner as currently adding a prospective sixth member to a group where everypony might not be able to count that high "-- she's our weak mare who can't cook! We won't accept any other!" Sous raised a rallying hoof. "Our helpless mess-up mare!" Meat touched his own left front hoof to his former coworkers' (not that anypony could prove that last part). "Accept no substitutes!" They rallied around that for a while, then paused while the fifth course was served. You couldn't have a splinter resistance counter-revolution cell without a proper menu and Royal China confiscated in the name of revolt and keeping it away from Lunar hooves. After all, an army traveled on its stomach. Chef was wondering if that would make certain tactical approaches easier since the Guards might not be looking that low to the ground. He spent a good five minutes lecturing them on the seasoning before resuming, as there was still such a thing as proper priorities even in a land under internal siege. "We won't kill her, of course," he reassured them. "Just knock her out. I'm betting she can't enthrall when she's unconscious." "Then how is she keeping Princess Celestia enthralled when she's asleep –" "-- sleep is different, Saucier! Everypony knows that! So no killing. After all, she's just a weak mare who can't cook any more than her sister can. Even if she somehow wasn't evil when she got back -- shut up, Meat -- maybe she fell to the Nightmare again and just kept it less visible this time. But we know the truth, don't we? She'll bring that -- thing -- over the land, and it'll never end. Eternal darkness? Not on my watch! And since I'm in charge of you incompetents, my watch is your watch and you do what I say! And set! And I say we will strike -- and we will win!" More cheering. Also sorbets, which Celestia would have very badly needed if she'd known anything about this. "But," Chef added, his voice dropping to a whisper, "we'll have to be -- careful. We know the usurper can -- enter dreams. And if we dream about our plans... Can anypony here shield their dreams?" "Pegasus." "Earth pony." "I flip meat." "Right," Chef said. "So -- we'll just have to sleep as little as possible. In shifts. While somepony is watching the one who's resting. And if you see a dream starting, you wake that pony up. Got it?" "So..." Saucier slowly proposed, "we're going to be taking on one of the two most powerful ponies in Equestria. By ourselves. After barely sleeping for weeks. With the possibility that Princess Celestia, enthralled, would also fight us. Do I have all that right?" "You left one part out," Chef told him. "Which was...?" "And we will win! For Equestria!" "And we are totally not doing this because we're mostly drunk and angry about being fired and not even remotely thinking straight!" They all cheered that, although one did it much more softly. "Because we are --" Sous began -- and couldn't complete. "Um.... what should we call ourselves? Because when they summon us into the Hall Of Legends as heroes to see our portrait unveiled, they'll need to call us something." Chef, who was already seeing it (although the portrait contained himself, nopony else, and came with a lifetime supply of replacement equipment plus the permanent banishment of the Lunar head -- he couldn't even think the last word), said "Chef." "But that's just you." "So? I do all the work." Pasta cleared his throat. They all looked at him. After several flour-coated coughs, three dusty words floated across the food-covered table. "The Brinner Brigade." They all thought about it. "Right!" cried Meat. "What else!" screamed Sous. "Until I change it to Chef!" declared Chef. "Because there's no way anypony would associate the name for a group of cooks working together and a term for a meal which only we use with a certain group of recently fired palace staff!" called out Saucier. "The Brinner Brigade!" they all chorused. They opened another wine bottle and toasted the name. Then they complained about the vintage for two hours.