1 Timothy 5:23
1 Timothy 5:23
Palace of Friendship, Private Chambers of Princess Platinum
"I simply do not understand it Princess! That-that-! That stallion single-hoofedly brought the whole convention to a halt! And for what purpose? None other than to impose upon the other ponies the tyrannies of the nobility!"
Platinum cocked an eyebrow at the younger mare's... impassioned expression of agitation over the events of the meeting of the convention that morning.
Granted, the Princess of the former Kingdom of Unicorns and Unicornia was Not Amused by Grand-Duke Benzatine's ability to induce... cohesion in the Unicorn faction into a much more united front than it had any right to be. However, she also knew the importance of keeping one's thoughts to themselves. Many were the ponies who were either framed for an incident or outright killed because they were well known for being... particularly vocal in their opinions, and being most obnoxious about it. So much so that few was the number of ponies who would so much as bat an eye at the individual in question's misfortune. As much as the brown mare's honesty and transparency was seen as a plus by the bespectacled mare, there were many times when the white unicorn quietly feared for her safety.
"Come now sister mine," Platinum soothed, levitating a brush through Clover's mane. "What have I said about growing so agitated over setbacks? It isn't healthy after all."
In the emotional, mental, or physical sense of the term.
Clover took in and released a small sigh, though the gentle words, soft rebuke and continuous tender brushing did their job in calming the mare down.
"There. Now then Clover, we must simply take measure of the situation, look at our options, and react accordingly."
"I understand that Princess. Which is why this speech I am writing for when the convention opens again Monday is so important! Benzatine may think power should only be held by a few with great amounts of funds, but our own history has shown time and again that such a system is easy to corrupt! But I have confidence that Reason will win the day."
Platinum nuzzled the mare as she returned the brush to its proper place on the vanity.
"Of course it will sister dear," she cooed with a smile, "now be off. No doubt you have much to do. I have the utmost confidence in your talents Clover..."
The young Court Mage returned the smile and trotted out of the room, closing the door behind her as Platinum, still smiling, waved her off. After the door shut, however, the waving hoof was lowered, and the smile vanished in favor of Platinum's wooden mask of blank emotions.
"It is the other Unicorns whom I have no confidence in..."
------
Benzatine was known for being very generous with his balls, especially when there was something political he was aiming for, and this instance was no different, with a ball being thrown every night for the past week. Platinum had not deigned to come to any of them. After all, with so many chefs working at once in the kitchen, it would be quite simple for somepony to 'accidentally' slip in 'spoiled' food in with what was being served. However, as Benzatine was directly upsetting her plans (purposefully or not), the Princess could ill-afford to not address the stallion head on.
The carriage was barely a mile away from the Grand-Duke's new estate in Equestria, but already Platinum could make out the mansion lit up by an assortment of candles, bonfires and enchanted gems for the evening's festivities, and she could have from time to time made out the occasional faint cheer of the more exuberant of the party-goers, had the carriage not been in motion.
While the princess' face was a blank wooden mask, totally void of expression, inside she was a mild tempest of worrying over the details of her plans for the evening, the contingencies that came with the territory of interacting with the Unicorn court, and the niggling concern over whether or not her various agents, trusted though they were, had indeed managed to set up all of the necessary elements. Her stallions and mares were all more than capable and their loyalty beyond even idle doubt. But still, all it would take would be a single agent flubbing a fib or stumbling at the wrong moment and weeks, or even years, of plans would be up in smoke and enemies would be made that otherwise would have never been aware.
'"Such is the path of the schemer." Is that not what Star-Swirl said all those years ago?'
With little warning, the door to the carriage was opened and a shadow hopped into the darkened vehicle. In an instant Platinum's magic gripped the hilt of the dagger she carried on her at all times. She knew who the pony was and why they were barging in like this (and had in fact been expecting him), but it always paid to be prepared in the event currency proved to indeed be the currency of the Realm.
"Report Velvet Hooves."
"Of course Your Majesty. All of our agents are in place as either staff or via paying off staff working this evening to ignore us. All of the elements are in place for all contingencies planned for this evening."
"Good. What of the servants? What do you feel are their emotions for the Grand-Duke."
"Quite well, actually." her Spymaster reported. "Compared to the rest of the nobility, he is highly regarded."
"So in other words he is merely loathed rather than despised."
"Indeed You Majesty. This made sneaking in and out of the mansion and in amongst the servants tricky, but so long as we play our cards right nopony will report anything for some time."
Platinum considered this new piece of information. Or rather, new confirmation for an old hypothesis. Ultimately it mattered little so long as everything went according to plan. But still, a servant that hated a master was easier to deal with than a loyal minion. A noble that was despised would be betrayed gleefully provided that they knew that somepony else was doing the deed. However a more well regarded master would result in a demand for compensation. Given Platinum's position and income and her frugal and even miserly lifestyle, bribes were a simple matter to dispense. However, there was always the risk that the bribed would take the money, and still blow the whistle regardless of how much was given.
"I want you to keep in the kitchen Velvet Hooves. Keep a hoof close to the pulse of the heads of the staff and servants for any sign of treachery or waffling. There is too much at stake here to risk losing their support."
The dark shape of the stallion's head bobbed as he nodded.
"Of course Your Majesty."
"And have our agents briefed the waiters on the cues they are to look for?"
"And have memorized them to memory Your Majesty."
Platinum was interrupted by the sturdy sound of one of the pullers knocking on the carriage wall. They were in sight of the gates of the estate. If Velvet Hooves was to sneak away unnoticed into the mansion, now was the time for it.
"Excellent. Wait for my signal if the Grand-Duke proves to be too difficult. Dismissed."
Without another word, the Spymaster exited the carriage through the door opposite the one he entered, blending in with the shadows as he made the long way around to the back of the mansion. Platinum spared not a single glance in his direction, the lights of the Grand-Duke's estate illuminating the interior of her carriage. With distressing swiftness, the Princess' expressionless face was twisted into the gayest of cheerful smiles, with eyes aglow with slightly air-headed glassiness, giving off inane 'oohs' and 'ahs' at the sights around her as the carriage wound its way up the drive until it came to a stop of the stairs leading to the large front door. To anyone witnessing the transformation, they would have been utterly horrified.
Within moments Platinum was through the main entry way and the Hailer was announcing her arrival, his voice echoing throughout the chambers. The effect was likened to a Great Spirit announcing his favor to the newly arrived guest while simultaneously announcing to the host just who had arrived. The fact that the acoustics also made it difficult for assassinations anywhere in the mansion to be quiet was but a plus. Really. Honestly.
Truthfully.
As was customary, all present bowed with the appropriate minimum of deference to their more highly honored fellow guest. The minimum, and no more. Naturally. And Platinum, naturally, welcomed the welcome, totally unoffended by the well-concealed slight, assuming she noticed it at all. After all, everypony knew that Platinum was simply the childishly stupid figurehead to the mysterious General Ununoctium, the reclusive Commander-in-Chief of the Royal Army who managed to kill off a large swath of the Nobility after the Warming; and who then mysteriously died (allegedly) and had long since been replaced with his adjunct Major Ununseptium in pulling Platinum's strings. No one discussed it out loud of course, but it was obvious that only a stallion could plot out such a successful purge.
Clearly.
After the bows were exchanged, Platinum trotted up to the crowd and began the usual idiocy of court politics, which consisted of exchanging pleasantries and catching up with fellows over recent events. Buried amongst the discussion, as was tradition one could say, would be a host of scathing insults and soul-crushing depreciation of one another's worth with the end goal of manipulating the other into moving on to the next stage of some personal plot large or small. However, everypony by now had accepted the fact that Platinum was simply too dim to realize when she was being slighted or manipulated, being too much of a literal-minded fool to even notice slights hidden in the conversation, let alone try and fail to return in kind. So everypony at court had long since learned to try and use the literalness to their advantage as best they could without being obvious to everypony else. It was a bore but she was their sovereign, official or no. And should Benzatine's scheming work out she would once again be on the throne, they could finally convince her to carry a foal, and after the hiccup that was these past five years the long-game plan of the Unicorn Nobility would once again commence as it had for centuries.
If nothing else, it was amusing how the Princess said the cutest things during conversation. Why, if she had any intelligence behind her dull eyes, one would think she was the most skilled, soul-crushing and caustic at the game of insults of them all!
After the idle chatter came the dancing. The stallions on one side, the mares on the other, the two lines would send a couple through the corridor, the couple would dance, the two sides would bow two each other and another couple would trot through. Lather, rinse, repeat. And through it all the Princess was grinning and laughing like a silly filly, so easily distracted by the servants for whatever reason. It wasn't like servants were important after all. An half-hour of this and the guests broke off into clusters to begin their chats once more. A quarter-hour of this and their host, at last, made himself available.
"Welcome one and all!" the pink on beige stallion greeted, his booming voice catching everypony's attention. Powerfully built and with strong and noble features, Benzatine cut an impressive figure. At the age of forty-five, he was young compared to some of his fellow nobles who wielded similar clout in society, but his personable personality, and his obscenely deep vaults of personal wealth, bridged that disparity to the point of invisibility. His youth also meant that the widower was still amongst the prime bachelors to the unattached mares of Unicorn nobility, especially in light of his only son, the young Duke Chlorine's unfortunate passing while hunting earlier that month. Of course, if Benzatine cared about that little fact, he was wearing the most impressive cloak over his grief.
"Thank you for coming this evening. Please! feel free to enjoy each other's company tonight, and ignore the silly talk of anarchy at the convention. With your help, we will bring sanity back to government, and let the natural order guide the Kingdom of Equestria."
Benzatine gave a magnanimous smile at the applause he received from his guests. After a few moments accepting the glowing approval of his fellow nobles, Benzatine looked over the faces in the crowd, his smile growing to show teeth once he laid eyes on Platinum.
"And as I'm certain some of you have noticed, our own Princess has come in support of my motion. With her on our side, how can her little friends oppose us?"
Another round of applause, and this time it was focused on Platinum, who pounding her hooves on the floor for several moments before noticing that she was the center of attention, after which she gaily waved at the nobles surrounding her. With time this celebratory display ended as well, allowing the Grand-Duke to speak again.
"But, let us not discuss politics any more this evening, as I have always found it disagreeable to the digestion." He allowed a momentary pause for the gentle laughter his comment produced. "Now, please my friends, let us be to supper. As with the ball earlier this week, no expense was spared, and you may eat to your heart's content. I trust you came hungry."
------
And they had, indeed, come hungry. For as anypony could testify: Benzatine always provided a spread that in future eras would be described with vulgar colloquialisms such as "Ballin'," "Bitching," and "Swell."
Rolls covered in melted Honey Butter sat in baskets from one end of the table to the other, steam raising from the golden-brown balls. Entire trays dedicated to over two dozen varieties of Hors d'oeuvres. No less than ten different kinds of salads in their own bowls, waiting to be served, with sixteen different dressings and vinaigrettes to choose from. Sandwiches of every conceivable combination of wet and dry spreads and breads to go with them. Seasonal fruits and vegetables adorned each plate.
And awaiting for dessert at the back wall was a separate table, laden with cakes, puddings, parfaits, pies and sorbet. It was all laid upon tableware of silver, gold and aluminum, with fresh water and wine served in crystal goblets. It was well known that Benzatine took care to avoid drinking wine out of a justifiable fear of poison, and thus refused to drink at even his own parties. At least, until near the end of dinner, after everypony else had had their fill; even then, he never drank from a bottle he did not own, nor did he drink any wine which had already been opened, nor any he did not witness leaving its bottle. Paranoid yes, but when so many other nobles with his wealth and prospects found themselves dying of convulsions and foaming at the mouth during dinner at the hidden hooves of their adversaries, Benzatine had managed to avoid death via Unicorn Politics.
With dinner underway, the real power-brokering began. As it was considered rude to leave the table one was a guest at without first asking, anypony one found themselves sitting next to was in effect a captured audience, giving one ample time to talk politics, business deals, and secure alliances. And for a competent host of a dinner, that knowledge went into assigning seating arrangements. Known or suspected enemies were to be placed as far apart as practical, with strongly allied family members and trusted allies in the middle, while close and prospective allies were placed around the host. It was an unspoken agreement that the guest sitting directly next to the host was to be watched closely, as they were the ones that were either an ally whose loyalty the host felt needed to be re-secured, or a loose end being seduced into the host's web of connections.
Of course, with Benzatine's well known and highly popular goals for Equestria, nopony would begrudge him of wooing Platinum into their scheme. If only she wasn't such a flake. Clearly after the party they would all need to assist the Grand-Duke in maintaining his hold of her, less that boorish Pegasus and his unladylike daughter, that upstart Dirt-Mare or the princess' over-educated sister turn her away from the light. Again.
But from an ignorant outside observer, it would seem as though no such intrigue was taking place at all, nothing more than a simple (if populous) dinner with pleasant conversation.
And so, after nearly an hour of reveling in one culinary masterpiece after another, and discussing non-important things, the conversation drifted to the Constitutional Convention, and Platinum's stance regarding the governance debate.
"Benzatine, Darling, why do you have to be so mean to my friends?"
"Oh? And how is that your highness?"
"Well, it's just that Clovie and Cookie have put so much effort into this, and from the way they talk about democracy it seems like the best way to make sure everyone's happy."
The Grand-Duke smiled, humoring the ignorant princess.
"Oh Princess, you are simply a gem. But you need not worry about the happiness of the peasantry."
Platinum tilted her head, eyes looking at him curiously. "I shouldn't?"
"Oh course not! They are but simple-minded folk, easily entertained and hardly able to handle the task of maintaining their own lives, let alone the affairs of state. No, only a properly enlightened pony can rule a nation, and only a unicorn, whose mind from birth was designed by the spirits to ponder the stars themselves, can bear the weight of a crown. The anarchy of the Dirt Ponies is a very flawed concept, if that madmare Puddinghead is their ideal of a sovereign. I don't expect a mare such as you to properly understand, but trust me, letting a mob dictate policy is nothing more than ludicrous. The Cloud-Hoppers are slightly more enlightened, due to their proximity to the aethers of the stars their home allows. This is shown by their 'stratocracy,' but sadly they are still too ignorant of the ways of the world, what with allowing mares to rule over stallions and letting merit dictate position rather than status.
"Sadly my dear, but our fellow ponies are like tiny foals, who must be taught the ways of the world. And our noble blood obliges us to teach them the way of things, of who is superior and who is inferior, it is simply the way of the world. your highness."
Platinum pouted at that. It was a cute face, however it was cuter (and more effective) when she was six.
"So nothing can convince you to give Clovie and Cookie a chance?"
Benzatine's smile was unmoved. He took the princess' face in his hooves and looked her in the eye.
"Don't you fret your highness, I'll fix this mess for you, don't you fret your pretty little head over it. Now, forget such talk, and let us enjoy the evening."
"Here here!" came the cry from further down the table, followed by a number of similar cries, consisting of 'Down with Anarchy's, 'Mud With Mud's and similar remarks before the rest of the table was engulfed with applause that seemed to last for hours.
Behind Benzatine, the butler stood, awaiting for his lord's attention to be free.
"Would Your Grace like another bottle of wine?"
"Hmm? Oh yes, please do! And what of you your highness? I would be happy to share a bottle or two with you. It's perfectly safe I assure you."
Platinum smiled at the Grand-Duke and, oddly enough, addressed the butler.
"No thank you sir, I fear I have a teeny-tiny tummy ache. Though I would take water or better yet milk if you have it!"
The butler blinked, but after a half-beat he bowed to the Princess.
"As you command Your Highness. As it happens, we have fresh milk in the ice-cellar, gathered this morning. I shall be but a moment."
Platinum, Benzatine and the rest returned to their more pleasant topics of conversations, ignoring the butler as he walked back to the kitchens. Once there, he made his way down the stairs to the wine cellar, and through the near labyrinth of wine racks in the cool chambers. At the very back, in the deepest parts of the cellar, a trio of stallions lounged around a collection of barrels and empty wine bottles, one of their number slouched against a table directly under a lantern, an empty bottle and two barrels on top of it. One of the barrels had the image of a cluster of grapes, the other the image of a tree log.
"Her majesty requests milk, my friends. Not wine."
At that, the one stallion standing turned to his compatriots and nodded. The other two silently stood up and got to work. One grabbed the barrel with grapes on it, the other stallion levitated the other barrel, and the leader placed a funnel in the first empty wine bottle. From the first barrel came grape juice, and from the other came a clear fluid that, by all accounts, ought to have been simple alcohol. Their work done, the lead stallion corked the bottle, wrapped the wire mesh around the cork, and passed it to the butler, indistinguishable from any other bottle. As he walked back up to the dinner, the trio went back to work, filling up more wine bottles.
------
For the whole night, Velvet Hooves kept an eye on Benzatine, hidden amongst the alcoves of the dining hall. When he saw Platinum receive a stein of milk, he knew what the verdict was, and what his orders were.
From the stories told, Benzatine was 'taste deaf' when it came to wine. And considering that the stallion had just polished off a bottle of wine that was more or less fifty/fifty grape juice and wood alcohol, those weren't stories either. Granted normal alcohol and wood alcohol was indistinguishable from each other taste-wise, a lot more went into the taste of wine than the alcohol content. Not that Velvet Hooves was complaining, especially when the stallion was half-way through bottle two, and already requested that number three be brought out.
There had been concern that the Grand-Duke would drink the regular wine before his usual time. After all, alcohol denatured wood alcohol, but his grace acted precisely as predicted. Not long after bottle three was nearly dead, Platinum feigned fatigue and departed from the festivities. As though on cue, one, then two, and more guests declared that they too would retire, promising the Grand-Duke their intentions to side with him come Monday morning. Benzatine had always been known to being able to handle his alcohol, and tonight was no different. He escorted Platinum to her carriage, and saw the rest of the guests off before making the trek of the stairs to his bedchambers himself. And that was where the signs began showing. Oh certainly he showed signs no different from ingesting regular alcohol, but the effects were much more noticeable than in previous bouts of drunkenness. Many of the servants and staff noticed, and given the oddity of seeing their lord so noticeably drunk, it would only be natural for another servant to help His Grace to his chambers, and thus the guards at his door the two into the room unmolested.
As soon as the door clicked closed however, the charade dropped. Velvet Hooves hobbled the Grand-Duke to the rug before the fireplace and let him slump to the floor. That was when Benzatine let out his first moan.
"Wh-what's happening...?"
"Simply put your grace, you are dying. Of alcohol poisoning."
Benzatine looked to the other stallion, confusion on his face.
"Wh-what? No. Impossible. I-I-I only had... my usual amount."
Velvet Hooves leaned down into the Grand-Duke's face. Not a hint of emotion on his face.
"Yes well, you haven't had a drop of fruit alcohol this evening your grace. But wood alcohol. And Wood Alcohol is lethal after about mmmm... One-hundred twenty milliliters I believe. And believe me when I say that you have had far more than that much your grace. Right now, your liver is trying to metabolize the poison in your blood, just like it would with alcohol. However, wood alcohol doesn't convert into water like grain and fruit alcohol does. No. Formaldehyde is what is being produced. It's kind of funny in an ironic way. In trying to save your body from one poison, your liver simply produces another. As we speak, your internal organs are being soaked with the stuff, ceasing all internal functions, suspending them in time. I dare say you won't last the night. "
Benzatine's face became enraged, attempting to stand up only to fall back down groaning.
"Y-you bastard! Ununseptium sent you didn't he! Tr-trying to, to keep his control on the throne!"
Benzatine expected many things from this assassin in response, but chortled laughter wasn't among them.
"Oh my! I know that she maintains that ruse, but I never thought that a stallion of your intelligence would buy into that! The more ignorant of the Royal Army sure, but you? You're almost an officer in your own right your grace!"
Benzatine lay in silence, waiting for this assassin to continue.
"Your grace, there is no Ununseptium. Nor any Ununoctium. And there never was. And anypony with a mage as brilliant as Star-Swirl the Bearded would never be what one would call a dummy."
Benzatine's mind was growing foggy, but there was something in what the stallion said that clicked.
"...P-Platinum? She's...?"
"The one that initiated the Hearth's Warming Purge five years ago? And has called for your death? Yes."
"...Wh-whuh.....why?"
"Because the Heir of Æthelric has long since grown tired of dealing with the nobility, in terms of the first. And you, however unwittingly, have gotten in the way of her plans for Equestria, and you are far too dangerous to allow you to continue to be a bother. Her Majesty is sorry that your value as an asset has become outweighed by your liability... But then again, that's not her doing, is it your grace?"
Benzatine tried to respond. Tried to articulate a response in his mind. But his brain was growing all the more foggy, his head and eyelids to heavy to keep up. Sleepy... So very.... very..... sleepy......
Velvet Hooves waited a few minutes to see if the Grand-Duke was truly asleep. Once satisfied, his green magic lifted the massive body to its bed, pulling the blankets over it. That accomplished, he reached into his robes and pulled out three items: A funnel, a long rubber tube, and a bottle of wood alcohol. Even when dealing with the perfect murder weapon, overkill was only an academic word in the world of assassination.
------
Minutes later, the servant quietly walked out of the Grand-Duke's bedchambers, nodding to the guards on either side of the door before making his way down the hallway. The servant's quarters were the other way, but after a large ball, it was hardly unusual for servants to be out and about the estate long past the usual call for lights out, and assisting His Grace to bed most likely interrupted this servant's usual duties that needed fulfilling.
As he made his way before them, the stallion murmured under his breath to the guards.
"Do try to be quiet come morning. His grace had a little bit much, in case you couldn't tell."
The guards nodded. After all, they were paid to guard His Grace, and upsetting him in the midst of a hangover would affect their pay.
Sharing the nod, the servant made his way back to his duties.
------
The crickets chirped, a wolf howled, and the road was empty, morning dew slowly accumulating on every available surface. The perfect time to perform a crime, or to wait out an accomplice. But not out in the open, certainly. To do otherwise would be foolish. Which was why the pullers had driven off the road a ways and hid themselves and their carriage deeper in the woods. Backing up to get back on the road would be a pain, but the measures were necessary. After all, the Princess was supposed to have left for the Palace hours ago, she couldn't have been waiting in the dark woods, windows covered with thick curtains and all external lanterns extinguished. That would imply that she, the simple, silly filly, was up to something. And that was just ridiculous.
By the angle of the moon, it was about two in the morning. And still Velvet Hooves had not come. Granted it had only been two and a half hours or so since the Grand-Duke went to bed and the ball-goers left to their own estates, and to sneak into the Lord's Chambers, kill him, and sneak back out would naturally take some time. At least, to do it intelligently and get away with it. However, by Platinum's standards, this plan was rather tossed together. Even though she had six or seven plans to kill the nobles each sitting in her library. Her real library that is, which was more accurately a collection of documents scattered about her various estates and hidden in places only she knew about. Still, given his support of the Monarchy, she never actually thought she'd be using any of her plots to kill Benzatine. And really, that was the true tragedy of the situation, that a useful ally would turn into a big enough liability to necessitate assassination.
knock knock knock
"Enter."
The door opposite from the road opened, and Velvet Hooves hopped into the carriage, closing it behind him.
"Report."
"I have done the deed."
"The body?"
"I had him drink some more wood alcohol to be sure, but nopony would think to check the gut. All symptoms show alcohol poisoning, and there were hundreds of witnesses to seeing the Grand-Duke drinking much wine tonight."
"Were you stymied?"
"No Your Majesty, the bribes paid off, and the other agents kept those ignorant out of my escape path, which utilized corridors empty at night."
"Were there any unexpected developments?" The Princess asked. After all, every plan had unforeseen obstacles. And judging by the way the stallion swallowed and suddenly found the forest outside, obscured by the curtains, to be especially interesting, it would seem that, yes, something did come up.
"One of the servants Your Majesty. Specifically, one of the kitchen staff. Early in the evening the Chief Kitchen Maid took me aside under the guise of checking the milk stores in the ice-cellar. A young mare, no more than fifteen. She is... With foal."
Platinum's face was stoic, the only sign of her inner thoughts was a single, tiny tick of her lips.
"Benzatine's."
"Actually Your Majesty, it isn't the Grand-Duke's, but the late Duke's. That is, his son that fortuitously died on or about the second of this month."
Platinum steepled her hooves before her face, the light of the candles reflecting off the lenses of her glasses as she contemplated this.
"What else."
"Well, judging by the way the mare shied away from most of the other stallions in the kitchen, along with the veiled and roundabout conversation I had with the Maid, I highly doubt it was a voluntary, nor a singular, incident. And given the striking similarity I noticed between the Chief Maid and the young mare in question have to each other, and a certain resemblance between the young mare and the Grand-Duke and the late Duke..."
Velvet Hooves left the report to hang there, letting Platinum's brilliant mind fill in the blanks. The Princess blinked once, then twice, before giving a colorful vulgarity under her breath involving intimate relations with the male offspring of a female canine, and moving her hooves to massage her temples. Clearly the poor light was giving her a migraine.
Clearly.
"It is a sad commentary on our society how I have to actually remind myself that it's the rape of the female staff by their masters and the known or unknown incest that are the real abominable actions here... And not the discovery of a foal-to-be that, if born, will mean Benzatine having an heir again and all of the legal issues regarding succession and inheritance it will involve. Not to mention adding an unwanted wrinkle to the scenario."
For a few moments, the carriage was silent, Velvet Hooves allowing his liege a moment to process this new element. A less skilled strategist would let this lie, but given how, in fiction and in history, offspring of killed nobles tended to seek vengeance upon those who murdered their parents, Platinum would be a fool to do so. The agent mulled over the situation himself for a moment, before offering a thought.
"Would you like me to... Arrange something? Your Majesty?"
The Princess opened her eyes and, still faced downward, looked up to the stallion, her eyes boring into his own over the rims of her glasses and under her brows. A beat of silence, and Platinum sat up and turned to the curtain covering her window.
"Tell me Velvet... What is the mood of the staff regarding this situation?"
"The mare has their sympathy, and judging by the bonds of camaraderie they share, they would be easily be mistaken for an extended family of Earth Ponies if it weren't for the horns on their heads."
'So they would be greatly displeased if she were killed or the unborn foal cut out of her. Which means they would feel free to reveal tonight's events and the aftermath, damn the consequences.' she surmised. 'Bother'
The foal was a problem. If discovered that she carried the heir to Benzatine's estate, that mare would become the target of every enemy and ally he had. Control the foal and you control everything that foal is taught. The perfect way to instill a lasting alliance, and thus cause her great deals of trouble down the line, especially when the lawyers came around to acquire the newly discovered heir's inheritance. And with Benzatine's line (seemingly) now extinct, the estate would be dissolved in the coming days and weeks: the land, titles and physical and liquid assets defaulting to Platinum, and the staff free to be picked over by any noble that wanted to... To... Hullo hullo...
"...Assassination, like any useful tool, must be selected and used with care, and used only when it would be the most effective. Used too often or too improperly and the tool becomes dull and less useful. Kill too many of one's political opponents too often and a pattern becomes clear to anypony of intelligence."
Velvet Hooves bowed his head.
"I understand Your Majesty. I apologize, that was unwise of me."
Platinum waved the apology off.
"Leave it be. Now, as I recall... My own staff heads are always requesting fresh blood, am I correct?"
Velvet Hooves jerked his head up at the sudden turn of the conversation. Yes, the kitchen staff and janitorial staff was always shorthanded for a palace the size of Platinum's, but Velvet Hooves couldn't see how that was relevant... At first. But it was best to be certain.
"Yes Your Majesty, that is true."
"And, as the legal executer of the estate of any noble family that dies out, I also get first call to the servants and staff of that estate, indeed?"
Velvet tapped a hoof to his chin at that. There was no explicit wording in the law outlining that... But then again, somepony had to see to the grounds of the Princess' newly acquired properties. 'So that's your angle. Clever.'
"Not in so many words, but at the same time nopony would argue with your logic Your Majesty."
Platinum nodded, her face still icy-cold and unexpressive.
"Indeed not. See that this mare, her mother, and those of the staff and servants most grateful for this evening's events are the ones taken in. The rest can be taken in by the nobles if we are unable to hire them first. As to her foal... How far along is she?"
"She isn't showing yet, so somewhere around three or four months Your Majesty."
"Well Velvet Hooves, the truth is that we can never be sure about the foal. The spirits may favor us and have it miscarry or be stillborn, or have complications with the umbilical cord and make it unfit to inherit if it survives. Or this young mare may have an accident in the kitchen, or as it grows the foal could get sick or fall in a river or wander into the woods and get eaten or something, and relieve us of the problem all together." She looked to her agent with a cocked eyebrow, "And no: That wasn't an invitation."
"Of course not Your Majesty."
"But if it should live... If it's a filly the nobles might not try as hard as they otherwise would to push the issue. Though if she birth's sons, or one of her daughter's do, then they would have no issue. But regardless, we must insure the foal is on our side should the truth come out.
"Don't try too hard to suppress it, last thing we need is to get some busypony curious. But don't ever simply announce it. A rumor that happens to be true is better than a rumor confirmed. Also, give it the education you would give to my own foal, the kind Star-Swirl would give. That way, should they suddenly find themselves in wealth, they will know how to combat the nobility and, most importantly, be our ally."
Velvet Hooves nodded. "It will be done Your Majesty. And I trust you want this to be under the table?"
Platinum, for the first time since Velvet Hooves hopped into the carriage, gave a small, crooked, grin. And it was both beautiful and terrifying.
"Don't be so foalish Velvet Hooves. I want this under the floorboards. If it can be managed, nopony finds out until your great-grandchildren are dead and dust. If ever at all.
Velvet Hooves nodded as he put a hoof on the latch of the door he entered through.
"Yes Your Majesty, as you command, it shall be done."
And like that he was gone. Platinum gave the stallion a few minutes to get himself some distance from the carriage before she knocked three times on the front wall of the vehicle. Moments later the carriage, slowly, began to work its way back down the blind path and back to the main road. As the carriage wobbled upon the exposed roots and rocks of the path, Platinum removed her glasses and levitated them back into their case. She placed the case back in the travel sack sitting beside her, extinguished the lantern inside the carriage, took in a deep breath, and let out a long, stress-filled, shuddering sob-sigh. Mission Accomplished. More blood on her hooves.
And as Princess Platinum curled up on the padded bench, the specter of her mentor hovered in the back of her mind, shamefully glaring at her. After all, Star-Swirl the Bearded could find a way to change the Nobility's thinking about Democracy without bloodshed, why couldn't the worthless daughter of his friend and sister of his apprentice do the same?
And with that image in her head, Platinum was slowly rocked into an uneasy sleep, weeping the whole way. She forcefully stopped her tears and sobs when the carriage came to a stop, slipping back on the old wooden mask like a comforting blanket before exiting, back home once more. Come Monday, the Grand-Duke's death would be formally announced. Platinum still had much to do to prepare for the eventual collapse of Benzatine's bloc of allies. And as the sun rose once more into the sky, Platinum entered her palace, a solitary figure, dissolving into the shadows of her own design.
"Drink no longer water, but use a little wine for thy stomach's sake and thine often infirmities."
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Poor Platinum. I think she'd be very
relievedsurprised to learn that Swirlly is looking down on her actions with grim approval. But she hasn't a way to learn that, and so she must deal with this idealized version of Star-Swirl in her head, one that, she thinks, would have been able to do everything she's done without killing anypony.Interesting fact: For a sizable amount of time between its discovery and the 20th century, Aluminum, due to its difficulty in refining the ore with the contemporary technology, was considered a precious metal, at times even exceeding gold in value. Therefore, some members of the wealthy actually ate off of aluminum plates to show off their wealth, and the cap stone of the Washington Memorial is in fact a brick of solid aluminum (following the Ancient Egyptian tradition of making the cap stone of the pyramids out of precious metals).
Good to see another chapter. I do have one problem though, ununoctuim/septium are artificial elements that cannot be created without a knowledge of quantum physics and a particle accelerator. Why then are generals named after these as-of-yet undiscovered elements?
Also, I guess wine is thicker than water. (Bu-dum-pish)
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....Because the generals are as non-existent as these elements?
Well that's what he gets
*puts on shades*
for wining.
I have to say, I love the descriptions of political intrigue and politicking going on in here. And I really approve of just how devious and intelligent you made Princess Platinum here; I can't help but picture her as she was portrayed by Rarity in the Hearth's Warming Even episode, so that adds to the awesome.
Also, love the Bible quote as a title for the chapter. You should really consider using it more.
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Frankly, it's gotten to where I think I hear Grey DeLisle as Historical!Platinum. ...If you are unaware, she voiced Princess Azula.
You'd think Platinum's cutie mark would be a tipoff for those so eager to discount her in the games of nobility. And yet the puppets dance...
And House Unun does seem to have unusually rapid turnover. Still, when you manufacture somepony wholly artificial, he's bound to have a terribly brief half-life.
I think we should all be glad Platinum never bore children, if only so the poor things never had to pilot a giant robot powered by the soul of their dead father. Good thing Clover kept a close eye on the Dead Sea Scrolls...
Damned, stupid backlog.... sorry for taking so long. Platinum, dammit. You're insanely awesome at these gambits.
Platinum is both horrifying, and sorrowful.
The the thing with the unun generals was shear brilliance.
Oh for the love of...
Platinum does what she must to have her plans come to fruition. You got to respect that.
Don't laugh. Don't laugh. Don't laugh...
my heart goes out to Platinum at the end of the chapter.