He Who Speaks for the Sun

by Corah Il Cappo

State of Affairs

"Look to the desert,
her dust, sand, and bone.
Inhale her hot scent,
And know you are home."
—Saddle Arabian Poem attributed to "Verbena"

---

Chapter 2: State of Affairs

Three days later, they were packed into a train car bound for Saddle Arabia. The caboose of the train was as luxurious as Trixie had expected from a prince—done up in red velvet, gold filigree, and sumptuous cedar wood that smelled of sap and life. It was a step up from her usual lodgings, for sure. The meals were definitely a highlight for her. She’d gotten used to plain rice and beans or cheap takeout for so long that she’d forgotten how much flavor there was in the world. She’d slurped creamy, cheesy onion soups, munched on strawberry and dandelion salads glazed with sweet lemon sauce, devoured a full plate of finely roasted filhay mignon, and downed it all with gulps of a fresh apple brandy cocktail.

For her, it was the lap of luxury, yet Blueblood seemed to chafe at his confinement. He paced, stared out of the windows, picked at his dinner, and kept trying to settle in before starting the routine over again. Trixie swallowed the last of her cocktail and breathed out hot vapor. She could still taste the sweet and sour of the drink on her tongue as she leafed through the train’s room service menu.

“Trixie is thinking she’d like dessert.” She peered over the crisp pages as Blueblood continued to glower at the rapidly passing countryside. “Would you prefer the crème brûlée or the mango rainbow cake?”

Blueblood’s only response was to sigh heavily and sink into the heavy cushions beside the window. “Créme brûlée sounds lovely.”

Trixie rang the buzzer for service and passed their order along to an attendant. Blueblood folded his arms over his chest and sighed once more. Trixie frowned.

“You’re just doing that for attention, now.”

“I’m doing it because I’m thinking.” The prince pursed his lips. “Everything is political. There’s somepony’s hoof in this reassignment, and I’m trying to determine whose.”

“So you think somepony wanted you out of the palace?”

“Or in Saddle Arabia.” He bounced his leg nervously. “So, who? Celestia? Her princess brat? One of the Courtiers?”

“Well,” Trixie swiveled in her seat. “which of the Courtiers has a problem with you?”

“It would be shorter to list the ones who don’t,” Blueblood smirked. “Inter-department arguments are frequent. Foreign Affairs tends to get shafted unless I get creative with my budgetary requests, so I’ve got plenty of ponies who’d like to see me out of the country.” He leaned forward, propping his head up with a hoof under his chin. “I’ve got my doubts about them. Sure, they wouldn’t have to deal with me anymore, but it’s not as if they gain much. Budgets are stretched tight as is, even without my meddling. Plus, it was Celestia’s signet on the assignment. The only one with the sway to get that without months of effort—"

“Would be you.” Trixie finished his thought. The door swung open and a mustachioed grey stallion dropped off a piping hot créme brûlée. She thanked him curtly and cracked the surface with a thwack of her spoon. “So, you think Celestia is behind things, then?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged and slouched over to the dining table, picking up a spoon and taking a bite of the steaming dessert. “All I know is that I’ve got a bad feeling about all of this. Too many ponies have it out for me, and this is a perfect opportunity for some political screwing.”

“Have you considered pissing off fewer ponies?” Trixie slushed around a mouthful.

Both of them stared in silence for a moment before bursting into peals of laughter.

“I can’t help my special talent.” Blueblood chuckled to himself as he crunched a crispy piece of the créme brûlée. “Regardless of who’s behind all of this, we have a pretty simple assignment once we get to Saddle Arabia. We relieve Rough Cut, we approve and deny expatriation requests, and then do the usual diplomatic stuff.”

Trixie swallowed a spoonful and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “While Trixie has, of course, been on numerous diplomatic missions across the globe, she could use a small refresher on what ‘the usual diplomatic stuff’ entails.”

“We attend parties, we talk to ministers and such, and generally advocate for Equestria’s interests where we can.” Blueblood rang for service and ordered himself a Black Walnut Manehattan. “Saddle Arabia is one of our premier trade partners, so keeping relations good is a top priority. All we really need to do is walk around, look pretty, and occasionally attend meetings to shift things around as needed. Easy stuff. Practically a vacation.”

“Trixie certainly needed a vacation.” She looked at her empty glass and swirled around the mixture of melted ice and leftover brandy at the bottom. Levitating it with her magic, she held it out across the table as Blueblood received his Manehattan.

“To rest and relaxation.” Blueblood clinked his glass against hers. He took a sip of his drink and grimaced. “Celestia’s sake, what kind of whiskey did they put in this?” He pounded the service button so rapidly Trixie thought it might snap under the pressure. “Somepony’s head is going to roll for this. Serving bottom-shelf dreck to a prince of all ponies? Of all the underhanded…”

As he ranted, Trixie floated his glass across the table to herself and took a long swig of it. It tasted fine to her, not that she’d ever tell him that.

*****

And so the days passed. Trixie and Blueblood bickered and argued over five-star meals and top-shelf drinks while the train glided through the painted landscape. They spent the time drinking, reading, arguing, and listening to the radio. Trixie received a crash course in Sarabic, but her tongue was hardly suited to it. Blueblood drilled her laboriously in manners and etiquette, trying to flash cast her as a diplomat in a week when he knew it took years. Still, he did a passable job. She knew how to bow, knew which fork to use at dinner, and how to avoid stepping on her partner's hooves during a royal waltz. Better than most, but immersed in the culture she was not. Thankfully, Blueblood had gotten by with fluent Equine and broken Sarabic on his first trip, and unless things had changed drastically, she wouldn’t need to be fluent. Besides, he could always translate.

Slowly, the world outside their window began to change. The forests and fields of Equestria began to give way to stark, stony mountains. They passed through a tunnel that seemed to stretch forever and emerged on the other side in a vast and scabbed scrubland. Thin reedy grasses replaced the rich greens and trees became rare things that dotted the horizon with dry, clawed branches. The air was arid and stifling, and Blueblood could feel himself sweating even with the air conditioning cranked to maximum.

Eventually, even the minimal greenery was blotted out as they drifted from sparse savannah to deep desert. Canyons of red rock yawned and gaped between wide expanses of shifting dunes. Blueblood had to pull the windows closed when the wind shifted and coated the inside of their cabin with dusty grit. The monotony of the desert was occasionally broken up by camps of nomadic camels, their brightly colored tents standing sharp against the unending yellow-orange of sand. At night, the desert came alive with the eyeshine of jackals roaming through the darkness, trailing wagons of scavenged junk behind them.

The tracks rose along the edge of a dark stone plateau that separated them from their final destination. As they crested the rim, they passed once more into a lush space of dense green. The air smelled of life as the tracks wove through soggy rice paddies and copses of lemon trees. Richly scented sagegrass blossomed along the edge of the train tracks, filling the air with a tantalizing aroma. Blueblood guzzled a glass of water to ease the dryness of his throat as they drifted along through a dreamlike haze. Tall horses dressed in loose sarongs waded through fields of rice and carried bundles of herbs at their sides, returning to small villas of richly colored stone houses that dotted the horizon. Ahead, however, Blueblood could already see the spires of the capital.

Sutaf was a city unlike any in Equestria. Wide walls of bleached sandstone kept out the desert, studded all over with deep gouges from wars innumerable. It had been here that Saddle Arabia was born in a crucible of cannonfire and blood, and the capital city still bore the scars of her painful gestation. Yet, even at a distance, Blueblood could see the old wounds had been used as the centerpiece for new art. Carvings of curling Sarabic script ran the length of the walls, incorporating the slashes and cuts of ancient battle into blessings of peace and promises of prosperity—written wards against the cruel indifference of the desert. Even at a distance, the palace complex was visible as a silhouette against the sun. Blueblood could already see the onion-shaped domes and slender minarets he’d spied nearly a decade ago.

As they drew nearer, the air was filled with the familiar scents of Saddle Arabia. Fresh, clean linen, ripe lemons, spices, and herbs, cool brown river water, and freshly broken earth. Camel caravans parked outside the city with baskets full of goods for trade, shifty jackals in loose attire pawed at curved knives in their belts, and horses of every color haggled with exaggerated bows and carefully crafted promises. A group of children splashed in the spray from an irrigation ditch, kicking up spray that turned prismatic under the hot sun. Blueblood breathed a sigh as he pressed a hoof against the window. Saddle Arabia was exactly as he remembered.

Settling into a seat, Blueblood took another drink of water. He’d asked the attendant to leave them with a full pitcher, and already they were draining it. Trixie sprawled on her back, lazily fanning her face with her hoof.

“Trixie was under the impression,” she panted, “that the heat would be more bearable.”

“You get used to it.” Blueblood tried to shrug nonchalantly, though he slugged down another full glass of water and dabbed at his brow with a kerchief. “Before we arrive in Sutaf, there’s still one more thing to discuss.”

“Trixie is not practicing her slow dance in this heat.” Her voice was as dry as the dunes.

“Celestia, no. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere near you when you’re sweating like a nervous pig.” He shuddered and repressed a gag. “Disgusting.”

Blueblood conveniently ignored his sweat as he shed his stuffy suit jacket. Trixie smirked when she saw the telltale dark spots along his back.

“I meant your name.”

“What’s wrong with Trixie?”

“What’s wrong is it’s your real name.” He folded his hooves on the table. “Are you familiar with the Djinn?”

She shook her head.

“Djinn are desert spirits in Saddle Arabian myth and religion. Formless, shapeless, wicked things that want nothing more than to possess innocent horses in their moment of weakness. They take the myth very seriously here.”

“But the names-”

“I’m getting to that.” He held up a hoof and scoffed. “Since they possess horses, anypony could be a djinn in disguise. And the thing a djinn uses to control their host? Their name.”

“So Trixie shouldn’t speak in third person then?”

“If Trixie can help it.”

“Fine.” She huffed childishly, puffing her cheeks out in a pitiful pout. “I’ll drop the act until we’re home.”

“Thank you.” Blueblood went on, ignoring her plight. “Everypony has their real name, of course, but they also have what they refer to as a ‘use-name’, a name they use in place of their own to throw off any enterprising djinn.”

“And do you have one?”

“Indigo.” He brushed his hair from his face. “Plants, concepts, objects… anything can be a use-name.”

Trixie grinned, rubbing her hooves together. “The Great and Powerful Trixie will have to come up with something suitably ostentatious for the occasion.”

“Please don’t.”

“Silence, Indigo!” She held up a hoof. “The Great and Powerful Lily of the Valley is speaking!”

“I’m strongly considering throwing The Great and Powerful Dung Beetle from the train.”

“Oh, you’re no fun at all!”

“On the contrary, it would be the most fun I’ve had all week.”

The train at last passed into the city proper. It twisted through a dense housing project of cramped and squalid little hovels for a moment, where the air was heavy with the stink of unwashed skin and uncollected offal. The only buildings worth noting were the few large factories that belched out plumes of sun-blotting smog. Dirty, bedraggled-looking horses wandered drunkenly through the labyrinthine corridors between the ramshackle houses, occasionally catching a glimpse of the train in their wild eyes.

They put the squalor behind them quickly as the train swiveled around a bend and crossed a sort of demarcation. The air grew cleaner, the homes more respectable, and the horses upright and brightly dressed. Blueblood immediately felt more at ease when he spied that the station was situated in the new, ideal neighborhood rather than the previous. The station itself was born of a modern Sarabic style—squat, cubical buildings with sharp lancet windows embedded in a nest of low, gracefully curved stone walls topped with brilliantly colored awnings. Blueblood had once heard that the design was inspired by spiderwort flowers, though he couldn’t say he saw the resemblance. The interior of the station was a pleasant surprise. Both because it was covered in beautifully ornate mosaic patterns and because it had ample air conditioning.

“Get your things together,” Blueblood said as he hefted himself to his hooves and slung his saddlebags over his back. “And once you have them, be a dear and carry a few of mine.”

“Trixie packed light,” she said, biting her tongue. “Sorry, force of habit. I packed light. Just one bag with clothes, soap, shampoo, toothbrush, and some snacks.” Her magic reached beneath the seat and pulled out a periwinkle suitcase covered in peeling star stickers.

“Thankfully, I, too, packed light.” He opened a closet at the back of their car and lugged out a massive black leather satchel that scraped the floor with its weight.

“That’s light?” Trixie snorted as she watched him struggle with it. Her laughter was silenced as Blueblood dropped it on her back, crushing her and knocking the wind from her lungs.

“As light as I can manage with.”

She huffed and gasped, rising from the floor with noodle-legs as she tried to balance the massive pack on her shoulders. Her heart sank when she saw Blueblood dragging two more equally hefty suitcases from the same closet. “Blueblood, you can’t be serious.”

“That’s Indigo,” he said with a smirk, slamming another suitcase onto her overburdened shoulders. “And like I said, this is as light as I can manage.”

“What’s in these things?! Canterlot Palace?”

“Very funny. If you must know, the two you’re carrying are just my accessories and grooming supplies.” He sashayed past her with his last suitcase tucked under his foreleg. “This one is all formal wear. I’ll buy casual wear as we go.”

Trixie huffed and puffed as she followed him off of the train and into the station.

Even with the air conditioning at full blast, it was still bone dry and boiling inside. Blueblood could only imagine what it was like outside. He checked his pocket watch just to be sure they were on schedule. They were two minutes late. He made a mental note to send a message back to Equestria deriding their transit system. With his hooves clacking on the polished tiles, he made his way to a nearby stone bench and had a seat. Trixie followed behind, her mane wilted and her breath ragged. She trailed a string of expletives that would have drawn looks of horror if she said them only a hair louder.

“Ah! Salaam, friends!” A trio approached out of the crowd, two jackals dressed in loose sirwals and a horse standing tall and regal in sumptuous embroidered silk. The horse at the center gave a bow, keeping his eyes fixated on the prince. “You’re very lucky! We only received word you were arriving a few hours ago! The Caliph, whose mercy is unceasing, briefed us that you were to be our new ambassador. How lucky we must be that Equestria sends her prince to us!”

He stepped forward, extending his hoof. Blueblood reached out and clasped the greeter by the elbow and nodded. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, prince. I am Aster, diplomatic liaison in training.”

“The pleasure is mine.” Blueblood smiled as warmly as he could. “I am Indigo, and I look forward to working with you.”

Trixie was on the verge of collapse as she trudged her way to the group, who seemed perfectly fine meeting without her. Dripping with sweat and half-sick with exhaustion, she stood knock-kneed as Aster regarded her with a casual, dismissive glance. “And I presume this is your…” He searched his mind before finishing with a Sarabic word that got a laugh out of Blueblood.

“No, no! Nothing like that!” He dismissed with a wave of his hoof. “In fact, she’s my court wizard. At least for this trip.”

“Ah! My apologies! Salaam, mighty Magus.” Aster bowed to her as well, before clapping his hooves and issuing a command to the two Jackals. They stepped forward, silent and resolute, as they took the bags from her and slung them over their shoulders. Trixie exhaled a sigh of relief and swooned, resting against Blueblood’s flank. He shook her off with a shudder of disgust when he felt the sweat on her coat.

“‘Mighty’?” Trixie smirked slightly as she slicked her damp mane to one side. “I like the sound of that…”

“And your name?” Aster extended a hoof to her. Trixie followed Blueblood’s lead and held on at the elbow. It was at that moment that she realized she hadn’t actually decided on a name. Her eyes drifted around the station, tracing across the mosaics. The mouldings near the ceiling were wrapped in delicate strands of thorny vines. That was good enough for her.

“Briar. The Mighty Magus Briar.” Trixie replied with a nod. She turned the phrase over in her mouth. It didn’t quite have the same ring to it, but she’d get used to it eventually.

“And it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Aster smiled and motioned for Blueblood and Trixie to follow. “Now come, come. Let’s get you settled in your rooms at the palace. The Caliph, whose rule is just, will endow you with official diplomatic responsibility at tomorrow's welcoming banquet. Until then, however, we should-”

“Before that,” Blueblood interrupted, “I’d like to meet with my predecessor. I understand he’s been shirking his responsibilities, and I’d like to personally chew him out before delivering his formal dismissal.”

“Ah, my prince! There will be time for that later! For now, you must be worn out after such a journey and-”

“I’m hardly tired. I’d very much like to meet with him before I settle in.”

Aster swallowed hard. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

Trixie nudged Blueblood and glared at him, dropping her voice to a whisper. “I would very much prefer to go to the palace and settle into her room.”

“And you can do that after I dismiss Rough Cut as brutally as possible.”

“You haven’t been carrying backbreaking luggage in this heat!” Trixie brushed her damp mane out of her eyes, scowling.

Blueblood exhaled low and slow, rubbing his temple with the tip of his hoof. “If we go and dismiss him now we won’t need to go back out to do it later. And I’d rather not need to go out during the hottest part of the day.”

Trixie’s eyes shrank to pinpricks. “It gets hotter?”

“In a few hours, yes. Right around midday. So the sooner we dismiss our shiftless ambassador, the better.” Blueblood trotted on, and Aster sprinted ahead to lead him. Trixie fell glumly into line behind him. Thankfully, Aster wasn’t going to make them walk. They were herded into an alabaster carriage brushed with sparkling gold. The pair of jackals clambered up into the driver's seat while Aster took a seat inside with them. The interior was covered in densely embroidered rugs in a dizzying array of colors and kept cool with a spinning fan set into the ceiling. Trixie slouched into her seat, still in disbelief that the heat could rise.

They trundled down the street, leaving the station in the dust and getting their first glimpse of the city proper. Vibrant market stalls lined the pavement, their owners barking out deals in Sarabic as they showed off carpets, fruits, bottles of wine, hoof-woven baskets, and jewelry. The air was filled with the greasy smells of oil flames and street food. Blueblood watched as a chef grilled thick slabs of flatbread on one burner and a mix of peppers and onions on another. He piled the steaming veggies onto the bread, folded it over, and handed it off to an impatiently bouncing colt. Another enterprising restaurateur served up a sweeter fair, selling large paper cones of candied almonds, pecans, and pistachios. Trixie’s stomach growled and her mouth watered.

Turning off the market street, the hustle and bustle hardly ceased. They passed by a statue garden that was packed with horses, camels, and jackals alike. As they drew near, it became clear why. Every statue was a fountain that spit streams of cool, clear water or gave off plumes of chill mists.

“Lineage Park.” Aster gestured out the window. “Every Caliph commissions a statue to commemorate their reign and has it placed in the park as a marker of their rule. We started adding the water features to increase attendance, and it worked like a charm.”

“I wouldn’t say no to splashing in cold water right about now,” Trixie said longingly as they passed it by.

Coffee and Tea Cafes were a dime a dozen in Saddle Arabia, it seemed. Trixie counted at least eight just on the one street alone. Most had large outdoor seating areas with low tables surrounded by cushions where horses sat and chatted over mugs of fragrant, faintly spicy-smelling teas or coffee so strong the scent made her wince. Their carriage paused at an intersection as a procession of horses in black robes with high, cubical caps crossed in a solemn procession. They spoke rhythmically, occasionally breaking out in shrill ululations that Trixie couldn’t understand.

“What are they saying?” She whispered to Blueblood, whose ear perked at the sound.

“It’s a prayer.” He replied. “‘Bless the moon which gives life, and bless the sun which takes it’.”

“Your Sarabic is impressive, Indigo.” Aster inclined his head. “Alabaster, your predecessor, never bothered to learn it.”

“A shame. It’s a lovely tongue, once you get the hang of it.”

The carriage started up again, and Aster did his best to give them a flying tour of the city. He pointed out the notable architecture, like the large arches constructed in antiquity or the smokestacks of modern factories. He took special pride in pointing to the piercing minarets that called twice daily for prayer, and the black and white temples of the cosmos that dominated their districts. Blueblood had seen much of it on his last visit, and although he loved Sutaf, something he glimpsed out of the window stuck out to him more than any of its architecture.

There were a surprising number of ponies around. Some were clearly tourists, leering at street art or fumbling their way through basic Sarabic, but others were a much different breed. They walked in orderly rows, bore muskets over their shoulders, and dressed in Equestrian guard uniforms decades out of date. Mercenaries, Blueblood assumed. But what did Saddle Arabia need with Equestrian soldiery? He supposed he’d find out when he met with Rough Cut.

One of the jackals leaned down to tell them they were taking a slight detour, as the road ahead was blocked off for a demonstration. Blueblood peered down the street and could see a crowd of horses, jackals, and camels dressed in indescribably filthy attire waving black ribbons and chanting. It was difficult to make out from a distance,, but he was positive he heard the Caliph mentioned in their slogan—and not positively, either.

At last, they arrived in a wide plaza centered by a pond with mirror-smooth water studded with regal lilies. The cobblestone paving underhoof was bone white and polished until it shone. The horses who sat in the few cafes or walked the streets did so with distinct purposes, some bearing obvious marks of rank or carrying bundles of books beneath their chins. A mage in a hurry was levitating a book in front of his face and munching on baklava with his hooves, the charm of his necklace glittering with magic. Another was performing on the edge of the lily pond, weaving streams of conjured flame in spiral strands to an enraptured audience. Aster pushed open the door and stepped out into the square, taking a deep breath.

“Welcome to University Square,” Aster said as he helped the pair down from the wagon. “Come. We’ll take you to Alabaster.”

The three were led into one of the buildings, part of the Health Ministry, according to the sign out front. The interior smelled heavily of industrial cleaner and freshly waxed floors. Blueblood hated the hospital scent. They passed by clusters of medical students, some standing around sick horses and taking notes, some going over charts, others who were speaking in hushed tones about a diagnosis. Trixie’s heart leapt into her throat when she peered through the curtains of a room and caught a glimpse of a practice surgery in progress.

Aster was silent as he led them down two flights of stairs. The temperature dropped steeply as they pressed through a pair of heavily insulated metal doors. Trixie went from boiling to shivering as her sweat froze on her coat. Blueblood could see his breath in wispy clouds as they trotted down the hall. The reek of antiseptic grew so thick that he nearly choked on it. An ominous dread was starting to roil in his stomach. Aster knocked at a door and was allowed in by a mare dressed from head to toe in bright white scrubs. She looked at the two ponies and visibly frowned through her mask.

Blueblood’s heart sank as he stepped into the room. Polished metal tables stretched from wall to wall, with equine forms of various sizes concealed by white sheets. It was the morgue.

Aster stood beside one of the tables, his eyes downcast. “I’m sorry, Indigo and Briar. I was hoping to break the news to you another day, but you were so insistent. I figured it was best to show you plainly.”

The doctor rolled down the sheet just enough to see the face beneath it. Rough Cut lay on the table, staring at the ceiling with blind, cloudy eyes.

“Celestia and Luna both…” Blueblood breathed. Trixie looked up at him, eyes wide with horror. “How long has he-”

“Four months.” The doctor said with a cold, clinical voice. “Found dead in his chamber early in the morning.”

“We intended to have him shipped back to Equestria for a proper funeral,” Aster said solemnly. “But without an ambassador to handle the request, things were complicated. Everything has been complicated as of late.” He breathed out a forlorn sigh.

Trixie clung to Blueblood’s shoulder to steady herself. “We should go.”

Blueblood found himself unable to look away from Rough Cut’s gaze. He couldn’t help but feel it was somehow his fault. It was his signature on the dispatch, wasn’t it? He swallowed hard and forced himself to look away.

A thought drifted into Blueblood’s mind. Everything was political. An Equestrian diplomat dead in a foreign country, leaving their eyes blinded for four months? Who in Saddle Arabia stood to benefit from the lack of a diplomat? Who had Rough Cut aligned himself with? Had he angered someone powerful enough to kill with impunity? If so, whom? What had his agenda been, and who did it threaten?

A thousand questions buzzed in Blueblood’s brain. He bit his lip and exhaled sharply through his nose. Fine. Diplomacy was his special talent. They wanted to play politics? Then he would play their game right back. “I expect a full autopsy report to be sent to my chambers. Understood?”

“Of course.” The doctor inclined her head.

“And, Aster, I expect a full breakdown of Alabaster’s time as diplomat.” He leveled his gaze on the horse. “Saddle Arabia has changed since my last visit. I want to know who’s who. Political groups, dissidents, the Caliph—whose rule is eternal—and his family, the economy, the industry, the military, the… Have I forgotten anything, Briar?”

Trixie took a moment to remember that was her name. “Oh! Well, uh… The universities, I’d assume.”

“Yes, the universities, too.” He nodded. “A full report on all of that, and I’d like it by tomorrow morning at the latest.”

“Ah, my prince.” Aster shuffled nervously. “That’s a lot of information to gather in one night. I could perhaps have it by—”

“By tomorrow morning, as I said.” Blueblood practically growled the words. “You had four months to act and didn’t. I don’t know how Alabaster treated you, but I am not him. You work for me now. Understood?”

“Yes, Indigo.” Aster bowed at the waist and swallowed hard. “I understand. I’ll have a report for you in the morning.”

“Good.” Blueblood huffed, turning on his heel. “Now, our chambers await.”

He took Trixie arm in arm, as she was still weak at the knees from her brush with the dead.

“I thought you said this would be like a vacation?” She muttered as they exited the morgue and stepped into the sunlight once more.

“I thought it would be.” Blueblood ran a hoof through his mane while they waited for Aster. “I understand this isn’t what you signed up for, and if you want to return to Equestria after—”

“Go back now?” Trixie shook her head. “No way.”

“I’m just saying you don’t have to—”

She held up a hoof. “Blue— Indigo, if you keep offering, I’m going to take you up on it. I’m not letting you do this alone.”

Blueblood leaned against the carriage and took a deep breath. “And how much of that bravado is because there’s twenty-five hundred bits at stake here?”

“Oh, all of it,” Trixie replied, fanning herself with her hat. “That’s enough for me to live on for months, and I’m not passing on it. I’ll be here until the end, or at least until my contract is up.”

Blueblood rolled his eyes and managed a faint smile. “Thank you, Briar, for your selfless dedication to the cause.”

“Now, c’mon,” Trixie clambered up into the cab as Aster emerged from the Medical Center. “It's hot out, and I’m due for an ice bath and a bottle of chilled wine at the palace.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Comments

[Jymbroni]

I thought I would find reading this insufferable with two pretentious characters just going at it with who’s superior, but they actually balance each other out very well. These are the stories I crave to read because it circumvents my expectations and delivers an engaging narrative with playful banter. Bravo!

[Raistlin]

11885754

Agreed. Glad to see they both have depths.

Also, I would want to know how Blue and Trixie met each other and keep contact despite their different social status. More important, why did Blueblood insist in bringing a travelling performer to a diplomatic job?

[duckmagee]

Look like celestia truly sent blueblood to deal with a problem and not to get rid of him, and so the game begins

[Proper Prose]

11885849
She probably should have sent him with guards, certainly more back than Trixie who Blueblood had to go out of his way to recruit on his own.

[Someand98]

Blueblood's memoir snippet offers a peek into Equestrian diplomacy! It adds depth to his character and the rules for diplomats add realism

[Raistlin]

From a pure strategic view, it makes sense for Celestia to favor Twilight over Blueblood. As her successor to the throne, Twi needs to familiarize with both local and foreign nobles and diplomats. And any perceived accomplishment such as the Zebrican treaty will help that goal.

Mortal princes are transitory, alicorns remain.

11886005

We saw the scene from Blueblood's perspective, so is not surprising having both princesses look bad. And to be fair, the Prince has every reason to be upset given his personal investment in the negotiations with Zebrica.

I also wonder if Twilight may have history with Blueblood due to the later's jealousy. In fact, that could have been the reason for Blue to act like a pounce toward Rarity during the Gala.

[RTStephens]

Oooohhh, political intrigue. Nice setup to what's undoubtedly going to be way more than just an ambassador role for Blueblood. I think Celestia knows more than she's letting on and sent her top stallion to get the job done.

I like the worldbuilding, especially with the djinns. The second names are a nice touch as many fantasy settings use "true names" as a source of power and influence. I half expected Trixie to use Roxie as her alias since that's what she came up with in the Nightmare Knights comic storyline, but what she has here is also nice. I'm looking forward to how she's utilized in what I'm anticipating to be a growing mystery.

Till next time!

[Rainbow Sparkle]

I have not yet read any chapters, and it may be a while before I do.

But the short description, and the actual full summary, both earn a like and put this on three of my bookshelves.

[StubobNumbers]

Best Pony and Prince Blueblood! Two great characters that go great together!