Day Break

by Chicago Ted

Pondside Siege

“All hooves below deck! Hard a-port! Incoming!” cried a ship’s captain, looking out from the bridge to see a massive projectile heading in fast towards his ship. “Celestia save us. . . .”

Alas, the order was not carried out fast enough; the projectile slammed into—nay, through the deck of the ship. It burst into flames on contact. It took less than a minute for it to burn to the waterline, what with the hull being built from such flammable material. Many valuable sailors were tragically lost that day. It was a disaster that nopony would forget.

“Coo. . . .”

What looked like harrowing sea warfare, with heavy losses on both sides, was in fact a game of “battleship”. Philomena, who sat on the other pond bank, was Celestia’s opponent in this naval war.

Celestia had a fleet of fifteen small papercraft ships of varying types at her command; Philomena had the same. The only difference between was that Celestia’s ships were adorned with a small white flag with a yellow and orange Sun logo on it, whereas Philomena’s were adorned with a small indigo flag, with a white moon logo on it—exactly like the one she showed Celestia just outside The Tasty Treat. The pond itself was divided into a 32 × 32 grid, with each ship occupying two coördinates. Both of them also had spare pieces of paper to make more ships, since salvaging was impossible.

Philomena had just made her move, sinking one of Celestia’s ship with one of her feathers. Celestia had three destroyers on the east end of the pond, facing two of Philomena’s frigates, but Philomena’s fleet was coming close to Celestia’s fleet. Fortunately for Celestia, Philomena could only make one move per turn. Attempting to sink an enemy ship within range, whether or not it was successful, trying to move a ship (only one at a time, and within a certain distance), or creating a new ship—these constituted moves. But, unfortunately for Celestia, she could only make one move per turn.

Celestia had fourteen ships left, thanks to Philomena. After a bit of thought, Celestia moved a battleship up two spaces, theoretically bringing it within range of Philomena’s fleet should she continue in her intended direction.

Now it was Philomena’s turn. She considered her possible options, before she moved one ship to the southwest, approaching Celestia’s fleet still, but avoiding the new danger.

Which presented Celestia with a great opportunity. Philomena moved the wrong ship to be out of danger. So Celestia fired upon one of the others, using an apple plucked with her telekinesis from the tree under which she was sitting. The apple didn’t pierce the ship, nor did it set it on fire—rather, it crushed the ship, plunging it wholly below the water line. A move well spent.

Philomena’s rebuttal was simply to fire upon one of the ships on the southern shore. She managed to score a hit, forcing Celestia in her next turn to move one of hers out of the way, but still within firing range of Philomena’s fleet. Philomena saw that coming, though, and proceeded to sink another one of Celestia’s ships. Celestia “built” (i.e. folded) another ship to replace it, deploying it near the northern shore.

Just before she made her next decision, Philomena suddenly noticed something approaching them from the rosebushes. Celestia looked up as well, noticing Philomena’s gaze.

A young colt had wandered into the park. He was accompanied by none; no parent, no guardian, nopony. He must have been an orphan. He slowly approached the princess, with an apprehensive look on his face, ready to run at the last second should he need to. “Are you lost, little one?” asked Celestia.

“No,” he replied—a staccato voice that contrasted against Celestia’s flowing speech. “I just saw you in the park and wondered what you were doing. The papers said you wouldn’t be working today, yes?”

“That’s quite right,” she replied. “I’m sure what the Chronicle said was correct.”

“Well, why did you pass a law like that anyway? If you wanted to keep working all the time, why didn’t you. . . veh. . . vie. . . .”

“Veto it?” The colt nodded. “Well, once upon a time, Princess Luna was almost overwhelmed with work. She wanted, nay, I daresay needed a break at some point. But the ponies of Equestria at the time were dependent on both of us, to raise and lower the Sun and Moon. And to be honest, when I first saw that bill, I needed one as well.”

Celestia’s brow furrowed. “But over time, I grew used to the workload, even as it increased over the years. Eventually I saw myself as not just a ruler of Equestria, but as a mother as well. Maternal instinct took over all motivations; I actually enjoyed the work.

“But Princess Luna? Now, she took that law and exploited it to the fullest. I’m certain that she would’ve vetoed it in favor of extending it to a month—or even a year—or even making me raise the Sun and Moon so she wouldn’t have to do that. Well, in a way, she got the last of these.”

“Can’t you veto it now?” asked the colt.

“No, only the Council can do that.”

“And why don’t they?”

Celestia sighed. This was a curious fellow. “I’d rather not get into it, but it’s enough to say that they make it very difficult for anypony, even me and Princess Luna.”

“Oh.” The colt looked down to the ground.

Celestia brought her wing around and pulled him close. “No need to be sad, little one,” she said. “It’ll be fine.”

“Say, pardon me for asking,” he said, though he had asked five questions before, “but what are you doing right now?”

“This?” Celestia pointed to the pond. Philomena still had not made a move. The colt nodded. “This is a sort of game that I used to play with Luna when we were very young, maybe when I was your age. It looks simple, but trust me, it’s not.” She pointed to the various ships. “They may look alike, but they all have different strengths and weaknesses, and it’s left to you to find a way around them, while at the same time exploit those of your opponent.”

“Oh!” he said. “May I join you?”

“You may,” she replied. “Philomena, have you moved yet?”

The phoenix shook her head. She then proceeded to move one of her ships out of the way of Celestia’s newly-built ship. Celestia saw that Philomena had forgotten that this move brought it within firing range of one of her ships, and took advantage of the situation. When Philomena started to move her fleet northward to deal with the newfound threat, Celestia let the colt make a move on her behalf. He chose to sink the other ship on the east side of the pond.

“How come?” asked Celestia.

“I much prefer to deal with small problems as they come along,” he responded, “rather than consolidate them into larger issues that I can’t manage. It’s like rolling a snowball: the more you roll it, the bigger it gets.”

Celestia was struck by this statement. Perhaps, she reasoned, I can apply this to my own work—deal with each bill as they come along, rather than having a backlog at all. I already have ponies queued up for audiences with me—can bills be treated much the same way?

“That is a very wise statement,” she said. “Where did you learn that?”

“Out on the streets” was his response. “You gotta be the one who acts first in a fight.”

⁂

Invariably the end of the day had come. Celestia cleaned out the pond, removing stray feathers, apples, and scraps of pulped paper, depositing the lot into a nearby garbage can. “Do you have someplace to stay for the night, little one?” she asked.

“Yeah, sure,” he readily replied. “Have a good night, Your Highness.”

“The same to you, my little pony.” And with that, the colt scurried off out of the park, like a rat fleeing from approaching hoofsteps. Philomena and Celestia, on the other hand, went back to the castle.

Court had ended today, so all that was left was for Celestia to lower the Sun to begin the night. Before she did so, she checked with Raven on the backlog. She hoped that it wasn’t too big a burden for her staff.

Rounding the corner towards the doors to the hall, she saw Raven just leaving Court. “Raven, can you report on the status of my backlog?” asked Celestia.

“With all due respect Celestia,” she stated, “I suggest that you might not make such a large backlog in the future. Yes, we were able to sort it all out today. All of it. We vetoed about 43% of bills that we were certain that you would have vetoed anyway. The rest is taken care of; you and Luna need only ratify them all in one go. I don’t imagine that it should take more than a few hours.”

“And you know something, Raven?” Celestia said. “I might’ve learned my lesson on that just this afternoon.”

“Huh?”

Celestia giggled. “Never mind. Carry on.”

Raven nodded stiffly. Then she made her way down the hall, for her own personal business. Celestia checked a nearby clock. 6:25 PM. Right on schedule.

Celestia exited the castle onto a balcony overlooking the streets of Canterlot. She could see almost everything there—the Iridescent Lotus Spa, the newsstand, The Tasty Treat, Restaurant Row, the park, and she thought she spotted a familiar little colt wandering through the streets.

For you, child, she thought, as though he were capable of telepathy. This Sun shall be lowered in your honor. You may have not realized that you made a difference, but you had.

Her horn lit up—a gilded glow, matching the Sun, and once she found herself suspended in the air, without using her wings, she knew that she had a telekinetic lock onto the Sun.

Luna stood on another balcony, with her horn also lit, about to raise the moon.

Celestia went first—she soared high up into the sky, and once she was as high as she got, down she came, gently, slowly, as she took the Sun with her.

Luna also rose up—carrying the Moon, she placed it there where the Sun was not one minute ago. This signalled the end of the Day.

When Celestia’s hooves hit the ground again, she felt exhausted. This was the only thing that she was legally obligated to do today, and she managed to do it.

“Well done once again, sister,” Luna said. “Pardon mine inquiry, but why hast thou forsaken court duty on this day?”

“Remember when we ratified that Time of Personal Recreation Act so long ago?”

Luna’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. “At last. . . .”

“Come, Luna—let us get our sleep for the night.” Celestia draped her left wing over her sister’s body, and led her back inside the castle.

Comments

[Walabio]

¿Why did not Princess Celestia rescue the colt?

[Chicago Ted]

7338764
He turned her down.

[RagnuPony]

Charming little SoL story. Nice work.

[Chicago Ted]

7339184
That's the idea. Thank you!

[Walabio]

7339079

As Princess Twilight Sparkle said before she was a Princess in S01E22 "A Bird In The Hoof":

"¡Tough love, baby!"
——
Twilight Sparkle

Some griffin will realize that none will miss him and eat him.

[Kryssi]

A very well-written slice-of-life. The storyline of Celestia’s break may be simple, but it’s told in a captivating way.

I’m quite fond of your subtle use of diacritics, especially in coördinates and phœnix, the former of which I haven’t encountered before.

The only complaint I have is that it doesn’t have as many views as it deserves.

[Chicago Ted]

7365362
When you deal with foreign languages as often as I do, you start to get very familiar with Unicode-- its strengths and its shortcomings. I use diacritics whenever and wherever I can get away with it. For instance, coördinates uses a diæresis to separate the two os, which would otherwise be pronounced together.

The only complaint I have is that it doesn’t have as many views as it deserves.

The same could be said of most of my stories. If you liked this one, then please, go check out the rest.

All in all, thanks for stopping by!