Sometimes I feel like fate is mocking me. He certainly wouldn't be the first. I mean, ever since one unfortunate incident at elementary school, everypony in my class always referred to any new particularly extravagant hat they got as "a never-before-seen Amber Spice delicacy." I'm no stranger to being the butt of cruel jokes by any means.
This was a new level, though. I'd been right about to pass from being just another royal chef to being immortalized. Ponies generations from now would read about me as Lady Amber Spice, discoverer of frying and inventor of the donut. Hay, I bet they'd even have been blessing my name at dinnertime alongside the King and Princess. But then the auditorium became a vomitorium and my career got blackballed more thoroughly than a steel ballbearing at a pitch factory.
Why does life have to be so ironic!?
So yeah, my professional life was pretty well over at this point. Nopony who was anypony was going to publicly associate with a known heretic like me, much less hire me on to cook for them. My best prospects to find work would be as a scullery maid in some small town like Podunk on the Swirlybeard's Muttonchop tributary, but even that was a long shot. Not to mention it would be a pale shadow of my former glory with zero chance for advancement, and we all know how I feel about stagnation.
While I have technically amassed enough of a fortune through my rather prestigious position as Royal Chef to live out the remainder of my days in mild discomfort without working another day in my life, that doesn't solve much anything beyond my survival. I'd live and die an unwanted, friendless old nag, and that's no kind of life for anypony. My parents might have still let me visit, provided I came under cover of darkness and stayed in a room constantly "undergoing renovations" so as not to scare off the customers... Hay, I doubt even Outta Stock would stand by me in the end. I know I wouldn't, had our situations been reversed.
"But Spicy," you whine, "I thought you said you were getting banished!"
To which I reply, "Shut your donut hole, I'm getting to that part!"
While my donuts' disastrous debut was enough to eternally brand me as a heretical pariah, it wasn't quite heinous enough to get me ejected from Unicornia. That offense would have to wait for my trial before the Council of Graybeards. Since I was an admittedly high profile character, it would have been simply unconscionable to sentence me without letting the press have a field day with it.
And these ponies have the nerve to call me overdramatic.
So apart from either languishing as an outcast or assuming a new identity and starting up an underground donut ring, my only option was to fight the Princess in court.
That life of crime is sounding pretty good about now, compared to what I've gotten myself into.
So, the trial.
The Platinum Court, where the proceedings were held, is a pretty opulent place. The domed ceiling was adorned with gold, silver, and, naturally, platinum in abundance. Between the precious metals, the copious quantities of finely cut diamond and topaz magelight gems, and the polished marble stepped floor, it was perfectly understandable for ponies to wear sunglasses if they expected to be in there for a while. Also, it is downright impossible to cast a proper shadow in that room. The overwhelming brightness is apparently supposed to symbolize Lanthanum's golden sun scrutinizing your very soul, revealing even your darkest secrets or something like that. That impression isn't hurt by the giant yellow and white magelight gem globe protruding from the ceiling's center, either.
The court's seating is arranged somewhat like this:
The whole thing is a sort of amphitheater. The pony presenting her case to the council sits or stands in the center, directly beneath the sun globe. In criminal cases like mine, the defendant shares the spotlight with the plaintiff and whatever witnesses are called.
On the next ring outwards and upwards sits the Council of Graybeards, looking down at me in contempt and disgust. Or maybe that was just indigestion. Can be hard to tell through all those beards.
Fun fact: Turns out it really is required to wear a beard while on the council. Even the mares. Those unicorns who cannot grow one themselves usually just tie on a fake, though using growth magic to sprout a temporary beard has been coming into vogue lately.
The next couple of rows up contained the rest of the court staff, like the bailiff and the stenographer, as well as the witnesses called to testify for or against me.
Then we had the press seating. You know, I'd always dreamed of some amazing food I'd created putting my name in the papers. Guess I got my wish, and it looks like I'll even be a headliner. Fate, you must be writhing in sadistic glee right about now.
Above the press were a couple rings dedicated to whatever nobles, officials, and political high muckity mucks deigned my case worth their oh-so-valuable time. Strangely enough, Pierce was absent from this section of seating.
Beyond that, up in the nosebleed section, was the seating for the hoi polloi. The various ne'er-do-wells who apparently had nothing better to do than to watch a heretic squirm. Well, I guess I can't fault them for indulging in some free entertainment.
And that about does it for where different denizens of the court could situate themselves. Now on to the actual trial.
"I am the honorable Magnum Cura, presiding. The case Common Decency vs. Amber Spice will proceed—"
A rust-red stallion with a golden mane, a goatee you could use as a wire brush, a pair of gleaming copper-colored sunglasses, and a horn made for puncturing steel plate then piped up saying, "Actually, Common Decency has been so offended by the notion of the defendant's offense, that she has recused herself from the case. I'm her chief assistant, Hatchet Job, and I am standing in her place."
Now there was a name to run from really fast. Hatchet Job had a reputation for being brutally effective whatever he did, especially in the courtroom. Rumor had it he was aiming for Common Decency's job as Solicitor General. Since his campaign of scrounging up all the dirt he could find on his boss was coming up empty (the ever-scrupulous Common Decency was clean as a whistle), he'd turned his brutal efficacy to winning high-profile court cases.
And here I was, poised to be another head mounted on his wall.
"Oh, Demonwings."
"Well then, the case Hatchet Job vs. Amber Spice shall proceed immediately. Amber Spice, you are charged with lesser heresy, attempted regicide, and failure to comply with Her Radiance's code of grooming for palace staff. How do you plead?"
I was half surprised they didn't accuse me of being fat, too. Still, that last charge gave me an idea.
"Grooming codes, your honor?" I answered in a honeyed tone, "Why, praytell, am I facing a civil charge in a criminal hearing?"
"A crime against fashion is a crime nonetheless," a nasally voice chimed in. One of the other councilponies. Flawless Mane, I think.
"Do you mean to tell me, sirs, that looking the way I do is a crime?" I replied, manic gleam in voice and eye.
"In a word, yes," he responded almost warily.
"Perhaps, Your Honor, you would like to charge my Princess-mandated servants with conspiracy to commit crimes against fashion and good taste as well? They have been party to my foul deeds in this realm since the code's inception!"
"It is the Princess's prerogative to press charges in such cases, and we the Council do not deign to speak for her in that regard."
I saw my chance, and I capitalized.
"Oh, I see how it is. Selectively enforcing the laws of the land against ponies you dislike. It's because I'm fluffy, isn't it?! Not every unicorn can be born with an easily managed coat who's hair just falls out when it gets too long, you know. Why, I'll bet I'm only facing charges at all because I don't look like the rest of you!"
"ENOUGH!" roared an incensed Magnum Cura. "I will not have my courtroom made into a mockery! The charge against Amber Spice for failing to comply with Her Radiance's code of grooming for palace staff is to be dismissed and stricken from the record, along with all related commentary. The remaining charges remain standing."
I'm not striking them from my record, you sons of horses.
"Now," he continued, his rage having vented, "as amusing as your shenanigans are, Amber Spice, you seem to have failed to make any pleas. Please rectify this forthwith."
Well, so much for making this room into my personal three-ring media circus and getting off scot-free in the ensuing legal and social drama. At least I managed to dodge that fashion rap.
"Ah, my pleas. I plead not guilty on both counts. I am not a heretic to any degree and am just as sure of our obvious superiority as the next unicorn. Grace, might, and majesty are inherent to the unicorn form with very few exceptions. Besides, I lend our dear King Lanthanum my power to help move the Sun at dawn and dusk, same as any of you!
"And I certainly never tried to kill anypony, let alone the Princess! How would that help me at all? I'm perfectly happy with the political situation here as it currently stands, and it's not as if I bear Her Radiance any ill will."
"We will determine your guilt or innocence once we have access to more credible testimony. Your pleas have been duly noted, and the trial shall proceed accordingly."
Some incomprehensible legalese later, they started calling in witnesses.
“Calling Lady Helios of House Helios to testify on behalf of Hatchet Job,” Magnum Cura boomed, prompting a mare colored like an unripe salmonberry to flow up to the podium across from both me and Hatchet Job.
"Lady Helios, do you swear upon Terra's horn, on which we stand, to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"
"I do so swear."
"Thank you. You may begin."
"Thank you, Your Honor.
"As you are all likely aware, I am Lady Helios, head of House Helios and noblemare in good standing."
Because we weren't told that just now, apparently. Sometimes I wonder if these ponies ever really listen to themselves.
"The royal chef is a fiend. Neigh, a devil! I would not be surprised to find that her horn was a fake and that she's been hiding a pair of leathery wings under that indecently fluffy coat of hers!"
Not five minutes into the trial and already they were going for Ad Equinem attacks. Yep, I could tell where this day was going.
"She concocts these confections of insidious deliciousness to corrupt ponies and turn their minds from the light of Lanthanum's golden Sun towards the abysses inhabited by the minds of baser races."
And now I want a donut. Blast. Speaking of which–
"I would just like to point out that Lady Helios is still among the living and presumably virtuous, and yet she herself consumed no fewer than seventeen of my donuts–"
"And promptly proceeded to empty her stomach's contents upon the theater floor," Interrupted a mildly irritated Magnum Cura. "Miss Spice, I have been charged with hearing this case, and I will have an orderly courtroom. Is that clear?"
I nodded my assent.
"Good. If you would please continue, Lady Helios."
"Gladly," the somewhat ruffled noblemare replied.
"Now, I will admit that I consumed many of those fell confections, but that was before their true, nefarious nature had been brought to light. When I discovered it, though, I was so sickened by–"
"Lady Helios," Hatchet Job cut in, "you say you eventually found the donuts sickening. This implies a few things, among them the possibility a poison with a delayed onset. Might you describe how you felt upon consuming them initially? Might you have described it as, say, euphoric?"
"Yes, there was that," she replied, beginning to look concerned. "Eating them just felt so wonderful at first. So warm, light, flu–"
I think I saw her mouth start to water.
"So they started off by making you feel wonderful, and then you continued to eat them, well past what would ordinarily be considered healthy. How did eating them feel after, say, the thirteenth donut?"
"Well by that point," she continued, her look of concern growing in strength, "by that point I'd started to feel a bit ill."
"And yet you felt, shall we say, compelled to continue?"
"I suppose I did," she said in a near-whisper, her concern mutating into horror before our eyes. "I just couldn't help myself."
"Stallions and gentlemares of the Council," Hatchet Job intoned triumphantly, "by her own admission, Lady Helios felt compelled to continue ingesting these donuts long after doing so was clearly making her feel ill. I propose that this was not due to some gluttonous moral failing on her part, but was instead the result of these deserts having been enchanted. Charmed, if you will."
"Yes, it's true!" Lady Helios said in a panic. "The witch tried to poison us all with enchanted edibles! How could this have happened in blessed Unicornia?!"
"I believe the good Lady Helios has suffered enough for today. Bailiff, if you would."
At that, the bailiff escorted the hysterically sobbing mare from the Platinum Court while Magnum Cura prepared to call in the first witness for my defense.
"Calling Assistant Royal Chef Crunch to testify on behalf of Amber Spice."
My two-straws-short-of-a-bale assistant had a tendency to make up for his general lack of smarts with an overabundance of enthusiasm. Typically I found this trait endearing. His unquestioning faith in my abilities and ideas combined with the impressive zeal and gusto with which he'd carry out whatever simple tasks I'd give him was not only adorable, it also made him grade A minion material. Sometimes it would even net me some positive unexpected results by taking my instructions to a logical extreme, like that time he made three bowls of merengue from just two eggs.
Sadly, this was not one of those times.
"Assistant Royal Chef Crunch, do you swear upon Terra's horn, on which we stand, to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"
"I swear upon Terra's Horn, on which we stand, to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth!"
"Thank you, Crunch. You may begin your testimony now."
"You're welcome, your honor. I will begin my testimony now."
He sat there for a minute, looking like he had something to say on the tip of his tongue, but not quite knowing how to say it out loud. Thankfully, Councilmare Piercing Beam broke up the silence before it could proceede to true awkwardness.
"Perhaps you could start by telling us how you know Royal Chef Amber Spice."
I think she may have been one of the ponies to select him to testify.
"How I know Amber Spice? Amber Spice is my boss! She's the best chef ever, and she's a pretty good boss too. She always makes sure I know exactly what she wants me to do, and then I do it the best that I can.
"She even let's me try out her new recipes before anypony else gets to," he said with the goofiest grin on his muzzle. "They usually turn out pretty good, which is how she got her job I guess."
"Say, Mr. Crunch. I can call you that, right?" Hatchet Job.
"I don't see why not," Crunch replied.
"Splendid! So, Mr. Crunch, about how often would you say Amber Spice—"
Hatchet Job was sewing the seeds of my downfall, I just knew it. How could I tell he was sewing the seeds of my downfall? His lips were moving.
"Your honor, I object! He's talking to one of my witnesses, and I wasn't allowed to talk to his."
"The objection has been overruled," a peeved Magnum Cura pronounced. "Perhaps if the defendant had spent the time preceding her trial learning about basic courtroom procedure, she would understand why Hatchet Job's questions are allowed while her interruptions are not."
"As I was asking, my good friend Mr. Crunch, about how often would you say Amber Spice offers you a new recipe to taste?"
"I'd say about once a month, usually. More-or-less weekly if I count new twists on old dishes. She hadn't been producing anything new for the past few months and that made her really sad, and I was sad too.
"But a few weeks ago she came up something called 'frying' and it's been nonstop new eats since then! They've mostly been really good, too, especially the donuts. Are there any donuts here? Lady Helios said something about them earlier, and now I'm really hungry for some."
He's just so adorable when he gets excited. His sincerity helps, too. It's such a shame the unsettling way the light suddenly decided to glint off of Hatchet Job's sunglasses just then had to kill the moment for me.
"Why, Mr. Crunch, it seems you are rather fond of Miss Spice. Is she just as fond of you?"
I swear, that grin of his could slice open a sack of flour at fifty yards.
"Well, maybe not as fond of me as I am of her," he answered with a bashful grin, "but she seems to like me well enough in a professional sense. She keeps giving me things to do, and she seems pretty satisfied with the results," he finished with a slight glow of pride.
"You say you are fond of her. You say that she asks much of you, and that you always give willingly. Do you ever think to... question her suggestions?"
I swear, a grin that predatory does not belong on a pony's face. Maybe there's something to those rumors of Hatchet Job's being part dragon...
"Nope! I'll admit I'm not the sharpest of unicorns so I can't always see where she's going with an instruction, but experience has taught me not to question her orders. If I just do what I'm told really well, things usually turn out great! Things just seem to go wrong in ways I don't understand whenever I try to take matters into my own hooves."
"So it's safe to say you'd do anything this made asked, never thinking to question her or her motives."
"Yep! I would do anything for her."
"Thank you, Mr. Crunch, for making that clear," he cordially replied to Crunch before wheeling to face me. "Miss Spice, do you have any words for Mr. Crunch?"
While Hatchet Job's grin had been deepening, the color in my coat had been draining to the point where I was a bone yellow. I had a number of words for my situation, but very few of them were printable and I didn't feel like sorting through the stack right then. Instead, I settled for a feeble "I would like to dismiss Assistant Royal Chef Crunch from the witness's stand."
Magnum Cura sustained the dismissal and Crunch pranced from the courtroom, completely oblivious to the sinister picture Hatchet Job had painted with his words. Hatchet Job is a master of spin and innuendo. It's little wonder how he managed to get so far in his field.
"Your Honor, before we call in the next witness to speak on my behalf," Hatchet Job interjected, "I would like to point out some possible connections to the council between the witnesses so far. If I may?"
"You may," Magnum Cura supplied.
"Lady Helios's testimony suggests that the donuts were both poisoned and enchanted to alter the eater's behavior. This Crunch pony displayed a devotion to Amber Spice that was nothing short of fanatical and utterly unquestioning. Not only that, but he was well accustomed to consuming strange, unknown foods on a regular basis.
"Who is to say that such fervor couldn't have been inspired through enchanted foodstuffs?"
"Hrm. Your speculation will be taken into account, Hatchet Job," Magnum Cura stated.
"Calling Squeaky Clean to testify on behalf of Hatchet Job."
Squeaky Clean, the suds-white and bald-as-an-egg soapmaking stallion I bought some grease from, slunk up to the stand.
"Squeaky Clean, do you swear upon Terra's Horn, on which we stand, to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"
"I do."
"Thank you. You may now begin your testimony."
"Thanks, Your Honor.
"That mare over there, Amber Spice? She threatened to have me thrown into one of my own lye vats!"
"I did no such thing!" I interjected. I may have been thinking it or even lightly implying it, but I sure as the sun shines didn't say it out loud. "The only vat of lies involved is the one you're filling right now."
"Amber Spice, you will remain silent while the witnesses speak!" Magnum Cura stated forcefully.
Well okay then.
"Continue if you will, Squeaky Clean."
"Just Mr. Clean, if you please."
"As you wish, Mr. Clean."
"Could... could you make her stop doing that? She's staring at me like she wants to set me on fire, and her history as a chef makes me think she just might be able to."
Yes, I was indeed glaring needles at him. However, I was then and yet remain woefully unable to actually magically ignite him. If I was right next to him for a few seconds I might be able to scald him, but not likely much else.
Didn't stop them from clamping a bright sky blue cone of shame onto my horn, and this in turn failed to keep me from intensifying my glare from needles up to stiletto spikes.
"Amber Spice, I would have you know that intimidating a witness into a hysterical breakdown is not helping your case. At all," Magnum Cura droned wearily as the witness was carted off by the able bodied bailiff.
And I would have loved to let everyone know that
A) he was already mostly like that when I found him, and
B) it's his own fault for letting himself get intimidating by an extra fluffy, slightly overweight unicorn mare.
But I didn't, as even then I valued my continued existence and thought I might still have some claim to it if I played my cards right.
"Calling Pierce the Omnipotent, Court Magician, to offer expert testimony on behalf of Amber Spice."
Ah yes. The reason he wasn't in the spectator seating was because he was taking part in the main event. Of course.
I wasn't sure what to think of this development. On the one hoof, it was a high-profile witness speaking in my favor. On the other hoof, it was Pierce, and he would be talking about me. In public.
I could only hope he'd keep things toned down for the public's sake.
"Pierce the Omnipotent, Court Magician, do you swear upon Terra's Horn, on which we stand, to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"
"I do, sir."
"Thank you. You may now begin your testimony."
"I was contacted by one of the good stallions of the Council to offer my expert knowledge on Amber Spice's magical prowess. I have regular contact with that fine mare, and I must say that Hatchet Job is grossly overestimating her abilities.
"First off, according to her most recent full physical, her telekinesis is only strong enough to maybe forcibly subdue a housecat, depending on how angry it is."
Ugh. The less I remember about Mr. Scrabbly, the better.
"A fully grown pony would be out of the question.
"While she is an accomplished chef, it is doubtful she would be able to use her powers to actually harm another pony. She has the ability to warm or chill a stationary object of moderate size at close range by an appreciable amount, given enough time. However, it would be nearly impossible for her do so without her prospective victim noticing.
"As for her skill with weapons, she lacks any sort of formal combat training. She is capable of using several tools at once with precision, including knives, but once again only at fairly close range and not with great force.
"In other words, she's mostly harmless. If you would please remove that incredibly tacky cone of shame from that unfortunate mare's horn?"
The bailiff walked up to me and released my horn from the restraint, which I was quite thankful for. Do you have any idea what it's like not having access to your magic? Imagine needing to sneeze, but the sneeze just never comes.
That said, he got that cone off of me by declaring me to officially be a magical lightweight, so I was a bit conflicted.
"Pierce, I know you said that her magical skills have little to no direct combat application, but what of indirect applications? The possibility of enchanted foods has been raised earlier today. Can you confirm this as plausible?" a subtly hopeful Hatchet Job asked smoothly.
"I can confirm that fear as laughable, sir. While Amber here is somewhat skilled at enchanting an object, she needs to know a spell in order to enchant something with its effects. On her mandatory Young Adult Magical Aptitude Test, she showed about zero potential with mind-altering spells and scored well below average on illusions. It is beyond unlikely that she has grown in skill in those fields enough since then for her to make a pony fall in love with her or her foods through unconventional means.
"The only thing she has that could enchant my mind is that body," he said with a disquieting purr.
"I have no further questions for the witness," Hatchet Job stated, somewhat disappointed. "Does Amber Spice wish to speak with him at all?"
"No, I don't."
"Pierce the Omnipotent, you are dismissed."
"Calling Pierce Pinnacle of house Pinnacle to testify on behalf of Hatchet Job."
Only halfway out of the Platinum Court, Pierce turned on his hooves and trotted right back up to the stand.
"Well," spoke a somewhat bemused Magnum Cura, "this is somewhat irregular, but hardly unprecedented. Since you have already been sworn in, I see no reason why you shouldn't be allowed to proceed immediately."
"Thank you, sir."
Now I was definitely not bemused. Confused? Yes, I was a bit confused. That pony had just finished defending me in court. He'd done so by trashing my skills as a mage, but it was the most solid defense I'd received all day and had thoroughly countered Hatchet Job's foremost lead on convincing the Council of Graybeards that I was a dangerous assassin. Then, before he'd even effectively left the room, he was called back to the stand to testify against me. I think I had the right to be confused.
Amused, though, I most certainly was not.
"Since you just finished defending Miss Spice under oath, I cannot help but wonder what you have to say of her in condemnation," Hatchet Job stated, apparently sharing Magnum Cura's bemusement.
"Oh I do have something to say, sir. I believe you've been coming at this from the wrong angle. Your original plan of attack is untenable, for Amber Spice lacks the requisite skills to magically poison her foes. That, and you have yet to address the glaring question of motive. Lucky for you, I know her well enough to deduce that motive:
"Amber Spice is strange. She's not a part of the herd. She is, and always has been, an outcast from the blessing. It doesn't take a magical genius like me to see that she would resent this deeply.
"I would be the first to admit that I find her physically attractive and wouldn't at all mind going for the occasional roll in the hay with her, but no sort of deeper relationship would be possible for us. Her views and attitudes are just too abnormal for her to properly relate to anypony.
"This mare, you see, has no respect for tradition. She's always focused on finding something new and untested, rather than on her skills at reproducing already perfected forms. Hardly a trait you would find in any mentally stable unicorn."
Not mentally stable?! That was a low blow, even for Pierce. I mean, yeah, I've had a couple of breakdowns in my time, but that was when I was having an existential crisis because I couldn't figure out a way to do something that was supposed to be my special talent. Perfectly understandable. It's certainly nothing to start bandying about such phrases as "mentally unstable" over, right?
"Our beloved ruler, Her Radiance Princess Topaz, on the other hoof, is a paragon of stability and order in all times and in all seasons," Pierce recited. "It seems simply miraculous to me that the two of them haven't come into serious conflict much sooner.
"A unicorn so unhinged as to search the unknown for improvement over the perfection inherent in Unicornian tradition might not behave as a normal unicorn in other situations. Where a normal, well-adjusted Unicornian citizen would, upon finding themselves to be out of line with society, adjust themselves to fit in; a maladjusted, heretical mare such as Amber Spice might try to change her world to better suit herself instead.
"Perhaps, when such a mare found herself found herself in disagreement with somepony in authority, she thought to remove that authority rather than acquiesce.
"She may not have magical means of controlling or poisoning ponies, but with her mundane skills in the kitchen, she wouldn't need anything more.
"Then again, perhaps she can put to use some exotic methods using knowledge from other races that no good unicorn should know?
"I hope I have been of service to the Platinum Court. I will now leave the Council to ruminate upon my words."
"Yes, Pierce Pinnacle of House Pinnacle, you are dismissed and may return to your seat," Magnum Cura said, looking somewhat disturbed.
I was pretty disturbed, too. A lot of the more outrageous claims Hatchet Job was trying to smear me with, I could get over by being outraged and hoping that everypony else would eventually realize how ridiculous they were.
Pierce's line of attack, though, was so plausible I might have believed it had I not been, well, me. It does suck dragon eggs being the odd mare out, and I'd be lying big time if I said I didn't resent "normal" unicorns just a bit for how easily they fit in.
Have I ever felt tempted to poison the Princess's food? Maybe slightly when she was being particularly whiny about her food, but then I'd remember that not only would poisoning her make me a horrible pony, it would also cost me my job.
"Calling Outta Stock to testify on behalf of Amber Spice," Magnum Cura said.
Stale saffron, Stocky. I didn't need you to stick your neck out for me and risk your reputation by sticking up for a pariah.
Not that the gesture isn't as appreciated as a convenient shade cloud in the summer heat.
"Outta Stock, do you swear upon Terra's Horn, on which we stand, to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"
"I swear," Outta Stock affirmed.
"Thank you. You may now proceed with your testimony."
"Thank you, Your Honor.
"I've got to admit, though, that I am not a huge fan of the legal process as it stands. Don't get me wrong; I am well aware that it or something similar is necessary in order for us to have a fair and just society where good ponies can live free from the tyranny of ponies who would abuse power.
"How can you judge a pony properly, though, if you don't know her? I have yet to come up with a good answer for that question in the not-so-long twenty-four years of my life, so instead I'll do my best to solve that problem a different way. I'll do my best to get you fine unicorns of the Council to see Amber Spice the way that I know her. I guess you could call me a character witness."
"I object!" Hatchet Job objected. "This individual is clearly in contempt of court. Not only has he personally stated his discontent with the Unicornian Justice System, this notion of a so-called 'character witness' that he espouses is both highly irregular and largely irrelevant."
There was a good deal of intense murmur ring among the mares and stallions of the Council of Graybeards for a couple of minutes. Leave it to Stocky to give ponies something to talk about.
"Your objection, Hatchet Job, is overruled. As much as we value piety and respect for the State, this unicorn, Outta Stock, brings up issues that we cannot in good conscience ignore. We shall test his suggestion this once.
"Mr. Stock, if you would please continue."
"With pleasure, Your Honor."
Something told me that, within his heart of hearts, he was blowing raspberries at Hatchet Job with all of his might.
"You might ask, Your Honor, who I am to say that I know this made any better than any of you. To answer, I am the clerk in charge of the Royal Alchemical Stockroom, and I provide many of the precision instruments with which Amber Spice produces the royal meals."
"So she uses alchemical instruments in the making of these meals? One can only wonder what residues, intentionally or not, make it into–" Hatchet Job suggested, apparently mistaking a pause for an invitation to butt in.
"I take offense to the suggestion that any of the instruments in my stockroom are anything but perfectly clean," Outta Stock said with a pinch of righteous fury. "If you knew the first thing about alchemy, you'd know that in order for each experiment to be deemed valid, each and every surface and piece of equipment must be scrubbed, sanitized, and cleansed of any impurity to a degree that would make your dear granny's 'spotless' kitchen look like a mudpony's swampy den by comparison.
"Now that you're hopefully done putting my professional pride on the line," he continued, visibly and audibly less incensed, "I can proceed with my story."
"So that's how we met. She didn't think the instruments used by the other denizens of the royal kitchens measured up to her expectations, so she traded up from measuring cops to volumetric flasks. I was more than happy to further the great Unicornian ideal of precision, so I got her what she needed and made sure I was always there when she needed more.
"I also noticed that she was a mare who had trouble relating to most other ponies. Being a good citizen and member of the Blessing, I befriended her. We've been close friends for about five years now, and coworkers at the Royal Palace about a month longer than that. I can honestly say I know her well.
"Amber Spice is a mare who loves things to be precise and perfect. Once she has an idea, she won't rest until she has tweaked it to be the best it can possibly be. I should know: I've had to personally pull her out of an endless loop a few times just in time to keep her from collapsing from exhaustion. The results of this drive for perfection are obvious, too. I doubt anypony here can remember a time when the food at this castle has been as high quality or as interesting as it has been during her tenure here."
I heard a heartening murmuring of approval from many ponies of the palace at this.
"A drive for perfection," Outta Stock continued once the murmuring died down, "while admirable, won't get you anyplace fast unless you can actually get there. Not every rube from the berry patch has the brains to take a good concept to fruition, after all. Persistence gets you nothing unless you're clever enough to be persistent in the right direction. This cleverness, this ingenuity, is something that Amber Spice has in spades.
"Amber Spice is a clever pony. Some of the ways she's blindsided me in the little prank war we've had running between us since we met..."
He trailed off there, resting his pastern on his cheek in nostalgia for a couple seconds before continuing to speak.
"Pranks are a little beside the point, though. What I mean to say about her, is that she is ingenious in how she pursues her goals. When she's presented with a problem that she is invested in, she's able to make intuitive leaps and mold the fragmented pieces before her into a working whole. The shape of the much-maligned donut, I'm told, is one such leap. Seeing that the outside of a pastry was cooking too fast while the inside cooked too slowly, she gouged a hole through its center to increase the surface area exposed to the heat. It's a solution I'd expect one of our alchemists to come up with after a month of study, but Spicy here made the connection swift as can be!"
Okay, I may have fibbed a little to Stocky on how that event went down, but I certainly understood why that solution worked after-the-fact. Maybe I subconsciously knew that would work and that's why I impaled the impudent pastry on my horn? Yeah, let's stick with that.
"She's clever and insightful, and she loves precision. I've known plenty of smart ponies with an eye for detail, though, who have done nothing with their lives. It takes something more than just that to make a pony special. What does Amber Spice have that so many lack? The ambition to improve."
Oh you flatterer. Tell me more about why I'm amazing!
"It seems you're quite taken with this Amber mare," Hatchet Job remarked snidely. "Perhaps you'd like to tell us how she smells, or how she performs in—"
"Hatchet Job, I have had enough of your horse apples! You of all ponies should know the value of professionalism and keeping a civil tongue in one's head. Now, you will either sit back quietly and respect my rights as a witness to tell my story, or I will personally find a way to cram a titration pipette up your plot, sideways. Am I being perfectly clear, sir? Good."
The nerve of some ponies. Respectable ponies don't imply that sort of thing about a mare, even if she is on trial. About time that spell-stumper got what was coming to him, I'd say.
That said, how does Outta Stock get away with saying things like that? That is a superpower I might be willing to kill for.
And no, I am not currently nor was I then blushing, and I was most certainly not imagining what such a scene as Hatchet Job was insinuating might look like. Besides, there's no way you could have seen that through a coat this (apparently criminally) fluffy.
"As I was saying, my good friend Amber Spice is not only a clever perfectionist; she also has the ambition and motivation to do something about it and never settles for 'well enough' when she knows she can make it better. If Unicornia didn't have ponies willing to push their limits like that, where would we be? No fine art would be made. There would be no masters of magic to be found. This very courtroom would just be a drab wooden box if every unicorn just settled for the lowest common denominator instead of striving to become something better.
"Many wonderful things in our land exist only because some unicorn had the ambition to master their craft, and foods are no exception. Amber Spice is a master chef who pours her very soul into everything she makes. The ability to craft the best meals she possibly can is her life.
"Without the creative outlet her job as Royal Chef provides her, what is she?"
That's a good question. What am I if I lose the opportunity to be a chef? I guess I'm about to find out.
"One might as well ask 'what is a unicorn without a horn.' As the Royal Chef, though, she is a blessing to everypony who tastes of the fruits of her labors, and the Royal Palace would be a duller place without her."
Thanks, Stocky. I guess the Royal Palace would be a less interesting place without me. Bland food, a decided lack of explosions... Not that the Princess would ever admit she missed me out loud.
"The desire for precision and perfection, the cleverness to get there, and the undying ambition to improve herself until she reaches it. These are all traits I've found in Amber Spice, and anypony in the audience would be proud to exemplify even one of these qualities.
"In short, Amber Spice is a good mare who embodies many of Unicornia's highest values; she just does so in ways most aren't used to seeing."
"Thank you for your contributions, Mr. Stock. We will take your testimony on Amber Spice's character into account when we render our final judgement on her."
I don't know how many hearts that speech of his changed, but I could have kissed Outta Stock right then. Moon over mountains I'm going to miss him.
Now if only the trial could have ended right there.
"Calling Her Radiance, Princess Topaz, to testify on behalf of Hatchet Job!" Magnum Cura proclaimed.
Puzzlingly, there was a complete and utter lack of any other sort of fanfare as the regal gray mare stepped up to the stand, unless you count a redoubling of Hatchet Job's aura of smugness.
"Your Radiance, Princess Topaz," Magnum Cura reverently intoned, "do you swear upon Terra's Horn, on which we stand, to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"
"I swear upon both Terra's Horn and my name as Princess of Unicornia to do so," she solemnly replied.
"Thank you. You may now begin your testimony, Your Radiance."
"Thank you, Your Honor.
"I could not help but notice the efficacy of Outta Stock's testimony on behalf of Amber Spice as a character witness. I would commend him for defending his friend with such vigor.
"However, I too knew this mare, and I must point out some details that his testimony left out," she stated, teasing at a golden curl in her mane. "I hope to provide my own perspective on her character.
"My Father, the King, began employing her a few years ago as Royal Chef because he was bored. Bored out of his blessed skull. Apparently, eating the same gruel day after day becomes quite taxing when you are expected to juggle the celestial spheres.
"Because I love my father dearly, I went along with his hiring this... peculiar pony to cook his meals and help relieve his ennui. I've managed to tolerate her for most of these past few years, and even managed to enjoy a good portion of her meals.
"There was always something bothering me about her, though," she sighed with a wondering flourish. "Something about the way in which she took pride in her work was off.
"Yes, she would prepare interesting variations on old favorites. Many of these could be seen as refinements coming closer to the dish's intended form. However, these weren't the meals she took the most pride in.
"No, the meals she took greatest pride in preparing were those that were original creations."
The sneer she said that with contorted her muzzle in a way that reminded me of scrambled eggs.
"Instead of putting her energy into refining her skill at reproducing traditional forms, she often twists the old forms, or worse, abandons them altogether in favor of whatever breed of whimsy she suffers from at a particular moment. She has no respect for the perfection that is Unicornian tradition."
"Twisted... That truly is the operative word here, isn't it?" she rhetorically queried, cocking her head my way with a knowing smirk. "Portrayed in one light, she seems to embody many of Unicornia's core values. In truth, though, she twists our great culture's values like a horn gnarled by decay.
"I will grant that her attention to detail and her skill at doing something precisely as she intends to are commendable. I daresay if I had even half of her inclination, affairs of state would drive me simply mad."
About two thirds of the audience chuckled politely at her little "joke." I, however, remained resolutely unamused in the face of her charms.
"I am perfectly fine with her possessing that quality, and even wish that it were more common among my staff. However, her cleverness and her ambition to improve, which Mr. Stock lauded so highly, are horrifically misguided in how she applies them.
"As I mentioned before, Miss Spice does not take pride in honing a skill or perfectly reproducing the essence of a traditional dish. No, that just doesn't satisfy you, does it, Amber Spice," she said, turning to address me directly in a voice that was smooth as fine linen and yet felt as if it could cut me down where I stood.
"No. Being perfect isn't enough for you; you have to be different. Unique. Well I have some news for you, Miss Special Snowflake: There is nothing new under the Sun. You may think yourself and your works to be different. That nopony has walked the earth who is just like you and that that means you're special. The truth is, you're just as special as the next snowflake that falls on a drift, only to be trodden under hoof or molded into a snowball.
"Of course," she said, visibly and audibly reining herself in, "that hasn't stopped you from perverting our ways and our values. You continue to believe that invention is a worthwhile pursuit in spite of the evidence to the contrary that surrounds you on a daily basis."
I'll give her one thing: she can spit out a word with such disgust it would give me flashbacks to the results of my "accidentally" slipping her some sour wine to see if she'd complain about its flavor the same way she did about the perfectly fermented ones. Turns out she has multiple levels of responses for that sort of thing, by the way.
"I'd move to have you institutionalized, but it's clear you're just depraved. Those mud ponies you borrowed your latest innovation from? Your philosophy is more like theirs than you realize. They likewise believed that they could improve their lives by looking to the future while ignoring our glorious past and present.
"Unicornia has no room for that sort of backwards thinking, Amber Spice, and you have had plenty of time to mend your ways. Consider my testimony your letter of termination," she concluded, haughtily thrusting her snout into the air before flouncing off to her seat as she was dismissed.
"Calling Assistant Royal Chef Crispidy to testify..."
Finally, we would get to hear the far more competent and professional of my assistants—
"...on behalf of Hatchet Job."
—throw me unceremoniously into a pit. Full of spikes. This was not the best day ever.
"Assistant Royal Chef Crispidy, do you swear upon Terra's Horn, on which we stand, to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"
"I swear to do my duty as a Unicornian citizen."
"Thank you. You may now begin your testimony."
Oh Crispidy, you son of a horse. What did you hope to gain? My job? Fat chance. An attaboy and a pat on the head? Maybe. Most likely you'll get demoted to bus boy for sharing a kitchen with a known heretic. It'll serve you right, too.
"Thank you, Your Honor.
"I am Crispidy, and I have worked directly under Amber Spice as her assistant alongside Crunch for the past couple of years. That I have survived so long in this position is somewhat miraculous," he stated, all business.
"Your Honor, Amber Spice is dangerous. She doesn't care what or who she endangers in her pursuit of new foods. It is only through Crunch's resilience, my caution, and her impossible luck that none of us have sustained serious injury or death."
Impossible luck?! You mean the kind of luck that turned a small grease fire into a hair-charring, room-blackening explosion? Crispidy sure has a whacked-out perspective.
"Crispidy, my good sir, you have intrigued me," Hatchet Job smarmed affably. "Care to elaborate upon what sort of workplace hazards she engenders?”
“Sure. For instance, her cooking experiments usually end in either fire or explosions. Sometimes both, as happened in the recent incident when she was first testing out frying food.
"In General, she has a fondness for fire, and fire seems to follow her wherever she goes. The reason her "test kitchen" was built was to keep her contained and away from anything or anyone valuable while she did her more extreme experiments."
"Are you saying, Crispidy, that you don't trust Amber Spice to do her job safely? That she's a menace to those around her?" Hatchet Job asked, flashing that trademark draconic grin of his.
Stony faced, Crispidy replied, "I'm saying that Amber Spice is the sort of mare whom I wouldn't trust around matches, much less around the Royal Palace or the Royal Family."
"Thank you, Crispidy. That will be all."
"No further witnesses are listed. Hatchet job, does the prosecution have anything that remains to be said?"
"Neigh, your honor, the prosecution rests," said a self-satisfied Hatchet Job who looked like the cat who'd just swallowed the canary.
"And what of you, Amber Spice? What more do you have to say for yourself?"
"Oh I've got something more to say, all right. This trial is a farce!"
The whole courtroom plunged into silence. Even the plebeians in the nosebleed section. That didn't stop me, though. Oh no. I was just getting warmed up.
"For starters, you only gave me one credible witness to testify in my defense. One! Of the other two, one was my less-than-competent, two eggs short of a baker's dozen, strangely loyal underling, and the other was an insufferable pig who's testimony consisted entirely of alternately hitting on me and direly insulting me."
"What can I say? I've got a thing for mares with a bit more meat on them," Pierce called out from the witnesses' row.
"Long history of sexual harassment aside, need I mention that said pig testified for both sides? That has got to pose a serious conflict of interests! That's how these things work, right? I could name five ponies off the top of my head that I'd rather have representing me on the pedestal. Why couldn't I at least be involved in choosing ponies to defend me?
"Meanwhile, the prosecution got star witnesses like Her Radiance Princess Topaz. How am I supposed to stand up to that?"
"And about that: How am I supposed to defend myself in court against a seasoned professional like Hatchet Job on my own? I'm just a chef. I haven't had the opportunity to study Unicornian law for a bajillion years!"
Hatchet Job nodded enthusiastically at this.
"And don't even get me started on the charges. Who in their right mind would think that I'd tried to kill Princess Topaz? She's a wonderful mare and working for her family already pays the bills far better than anypony else could afford to. And don't even think I've forgotten about the charge that I'd failed to comply with a code of cleanliness just because I'm just so sparking much fluffier than any normal unicorn has any right to be. Well it's within my rights, gouge it!
"They taught me back when I was a little filly that if I was ever accused of a crime, I'd be innocent until proven guilty and I'd be given a fair trial. But you... all of you... I was already a convict, an assassin, a heretic in your eyes before I entered this court. I've got the right to a fair trial, so why isn't any of this fair!?"
The waterworks may or may not have been running at this point.
"It's just not fair," I said, more subdued. "I shouldn't be here. It's Thursday. Salad day. I should be home, sipping some mead celebrating whatever new leafy abomination I and my brother came up with during the day...
"I never meant for any of this." I sniffled. "I shouldn't even be here. All I wanted was to make something new. Something to celebrate. Maybe even something to be remembered for. All I ever did wrong was correctly cite my sources..."
"I shouldn't be here. Why am I here? Why am I here?!"
Magnum Cura tried to interject ,"I think we have heard en—"
"I will let you know when you have heard enough! With all due respect, Your Honor, I will not be silenced until I have said my piece.
"Why are you all looking at me like I'm some dangerous animal? Like I'm a rabid dog that has to be hunted down and disposed of? Court Magician Pierce the Omnipotent himself already told you I'm a mediocre mage who could barely overpower a housecat, and I'm not about to win any prizes for physical fitness, either. I'm a CHEF, for pony's sake. What under Lanthanum's golden sun is so sparking threatening about me?!"
It was technically spoken in my defense. I'll take what I can get.
"Hmm... Actually, that is rather baffling. Why am I the star of such a high profile court case?" I mused, tapping a hoof to my chin. "What could possibly make this case so important as to require the attention of the Council of Graybeards?"
"Okay, let's backtrack a little. So, I got into this whole mess by using a method I got from reading a book on Earth pony culture to cook something everypony who tried it loved. Not exactly something I'd expect to cause a popular uprising to dethrone the Princess, but... Hmm.
"I know it was the Earth pony part that got me in trouble, but—ohh. This is one of those implications things, isn't it! My taking inspiration from Earth ponies where all things Unicornian failed to give me so much as a spark implies that I don't believe unicorns to have a monopoly on good ideas and maybe Earth ponies are not inherently inferior to us. And everypony feasting upon the fruits of my labors implies that on some level, they agree with me! Even the Princess!"
"But that's not what we're taught in school. It's not what we're taught every Unicornia day in those pageants. To even think such things is unthinkable! Mud ponies, with something worthwhile to say?" I let out a cackle. Can't have good unicorns thinking like that! That'd be simply–
"Heretical..."
Holy Terra's padded backside, do I ever know how to step in it.
"It... It all makes sense now. The Council convening, the press attending, the Princess speaking out against me, the skewed witness selection... You never meant for this to be a proper trial at all, did you?."
However hot that room was, it needed to be less so. Same with the light. Really wish I'd had some sunglasses about then. Did you know that walls could close in on you in an amphitheater?
"No... You never meant for me to have a chance. This is no court room, this is a pillory! A place to shove me, bound, into a spotlight so you can humiliate me! It's not even about punishing me because I was bad: It was about sending a message! Well, it worked! I have been humiliated. I am now lower than a swamp a mud pony just took a dump in. Your message to Unicornia is ringing out loud and clear!"
My increasingly hysterical voice rang out over the otherwise silent courtroom for a couple seconds as I caught my breath. A voice within me whispered, 'Well, Spicy, you're in quite the fix. The most powerful ponies in Unicornia are out for your blood. They want to see you fall, and fall hard.
'And falling you are. Why not make an impact when you reach the bottom? If you're going to go out, go out with a bang! You're a dead mare anyway, so what more could it hurt?
'After all, since when have you ever been known to do anything halfway?'
Now I don't advise taking advice from a voice in your head as a general rule, but this one had a point. At this point, my future looked like bleak isolation eventually degenerating into begging at street corners at best. Given that the government seemed bent on making an example of me, I'd have been lucky to have gotten that.
They wanted an example? By Platinum's ashes, I'd give them an example for the books.
"In light of recent developments," I chirped with a decidedly less-than-entirely-hinged glint in my eyes, "the vast majority of you can all go burn in the deepest pits of Tartarus! I spend my hours and days attempting to craft delectable new delicacies for your stodgy, status quo, bland-seeking tongues, and I've had it up to my horn with you all!"
Ooh, it felt good to get that off my back. If I'd known before how cathartic this was, I'd have done it a lot earlier! Except I wouldn't have, because I valued my life and livelihood. Amazing how opinions change with the times.
"You want to know precisely how many hairs have ended up in Princess Topaz's meals over the years of my employ? Three! And those were from when Crispidy here thought nopony would notice his covertly sampling Her Radiance's soup while it was on its way out the door last June. I didn't mention it at the time because for one thing, the soup smelled so good I couldn't blame him, and for another, I'd always valued his input when I was devising a new dish. It's such a shame he doesn't seem to value me in return.
"Speaking of him, Hey Crispidy! You're a traitor and a coward. Also, you don't wash enough and your mother dresses you funny!"
Ah, the liberation of inevitable doom. I could say pretty much anything I wanted at that point while I waited for the shock to wear off of the crowd. Provided I didn't do anything too stupid, at least, like implicate my family or Outta Stock.
"Now who else among the crowd demands special attention? Not you, Crunch. You're a great pony, but I just don't think things would work out between us.
"Pierce? Your mother was a mud pony and your father smelt of salmonberries! Nothing against the attractiveness of unicorns in general, but I'd have been more likely to accept the amorous advances of a wild boar than accept the propositions of a pig with a horn."
One of my favorite memories is going to be watching him cringe at that line.
"And while I'm flinging about curses and epithets, I've got a special batch prepped for you, Outta Stock! May you live in interesting times, may you come to the attention of ponies in authority, and may you always find exactly what you're looking for!"
I cast a glance up his way to find a small smile on his muzzle and sad tears barely confined to his half-closed eyes. He got the joke, too, it seemed.
Sorry, Stocky, it looks like I got the last laugh after all.
By Lanthanum's diamond throne, I'm going to miss you.
"Hey, Large Charge!"
Magnum Cura grimaced. This moment alone vindicated my taking that course in Atinlay.
"Yeah I'm talking to you, Blue and Bulky!"
His grimace deepened. Some would say I've got no right calling other ponies fat, being halfway there myself. I say it gives me every right.
"You call yourself a judge, but you've been nothing but a bully since I got here today. Instead of trying to keep a fair and balanced court of law, you've just been telling me to shut up and sit down while other ponies tarnish my good name.
"And then there's Princess Topaz," I drizzled in a tone sweet as honey, yet bitter as venom. "The nag who promoted me! I've been catering to your whims for years without uttering a single complaint. Can't quite say the same for you, I'm afraid. I'm more of a mead mare myself, but you whine about your wine so much, why, I could swear you'd been swapped at birth with the Royal B—"
*zzzhirp*
I had been right about to lay down a real bon mot about Her Radiance's uncanny similarity to the royal family dog, but a positively rabid Magnum Cura had cast a zipperlips spell on me. And ponies say they don't act like their pets...
"I do believe we've heard ENOUGH!"
Magnum Cura let his shout finish ringing through the Platinum Court before speaking again, and nopony else dared to challenge it. Not another sound in the entire amphitheater. Funny how getting lost in one's own musings keeps her from noticing a pony's teeth-grinding, simmering rage until it finally boils over. You'd think I'd have at least noticed his coat going from blue to purple.
"Now," he seethed in a far more subdued tone, "the Council has much to discuss as it determines Amber Spice's fate. The Platinum Court is adjourned for a fifteen minute recess while we do so."
With that, the Council of Graybeards retreated to the private meeting room adjoining the courtroom. Most of the other ponies shambled out of the Platinum Court wearing varying expressions of shocked silence. Of the few who remained, most were common unicorns whispering furtively to each other in the upper rows. Judging by how they generally kept stealing glances at me, they were probably talking about the show I'd just put on or muttering about the nerve I must have had to pull it off.
I guess they weren't very good at being furtive if I could tell what they were doing, but it's not like there was much else for me to focus on while confined to the center ring.
As long as I didn't feel much like self-examination, at least, and I really didn't feel like taking a close look at myself right then. Figured I could do as much self-examination as I pleased once I was dead.
And who should rescue me from almost certain introspection than Magnum Cura and the Council of Graybeards, come to deliver their verdict!
"We, the Council of Graybeards, have decided this mare's fate," He announced to those ponies still within the Platinum Court before peering down his snout at me.
"Miss Spice," he spat, "you are a unique one. You found you'd fallen into a hole and, where most would have had the sense to try to climb out, you elected to get a shovel and continue digging."
"An apt metaphor for a mare so fond of mud," a bearded mare of the Council chimed in.
"Some members of the Council," Magnum Cura continued, "are advocating for clemency. However, the majority view is that this cannot be allowed. To let such a disgraceful insult to the Princess, the King, to Common Decency, and to all of Unicornia be answered by a mere swat to the pastern would be inexcusable!" he thundered.
"Nevertheless, ours is a rational society. Therefore, after one year in exile, you will have the opportunity to return on one condition: that you prove yourself to be in the right by producing a meal by *ahem* exotic methods that is so great and unique as to be without peer in the realm. If you, Amber Spice, can convince a panel of qualified judges that the meal is without peer, then you shall be repatriated as a Unicornian citizen in good standing and have all honors and positions restored to you that you are currently being stripped of."
That right there, fillies and gentlecolts, is the silver lining I'm clutching to for dear life at the moment. This means that if I can manage to do my Lanthanum-scorned job right, to do what I was born to do, then I can return home having exchanged disgrace for honor.
That, and I'll have to survive. Please don't let those needle teeth be for eating ponies...
"However, should you return early or without worthy recipes, you shall be exiled again. This time, into a molten caldera."
Did I mention that it's a bit of a high stakes deal?
—^*^*^—
So, that's how my trial went. Whenever I think too hard about it, I get the distinct feeling that it would have gone significantly better for me had I ever learned to keep my trap shut. Strangely, my family never seemed to value the ability to bottle up your emotions instead of calling things as you saw them. Then again, my father's a baker, my brother's an artist, and my mother's a barkeep, so I guess it's not so strange after all.
It might have gone better, but it didn't. And now, between packing up and reviewing how I got to this point, I've been up all night. It's not like I could have slept anyway, but this can't be helping my chances of surviving what comes next.
*Domp-domp-domp*
That must be the door.
“I'll be right with you!”
*PLAM*
“Or you could just come right in! That works too.”
Ah. Here come the guards to escort me to my—
Oh you have got to be kidding me. Is that a Cone of Shame?!