Quick Long And Short of It update · 5:09am Mar 2nd, 2022
>You are Anonymous, and with a newsie cap on your head and a saddlebag full of supplies, you’re approaching the castle now.
>Frankly, you were rather iffy about answering the letter’s summons, but your normal fonts of information had been running dry.
>Plus, crazy things always seem to happen when the castle is involved, and that usually means more sales, plus a fat bonus for you!
>Even better, you don’t need to sneak in this time.
>All you’ve got to do is show that weird medallion to the mare on front gate duty and she'll take care of the rest.
>Much less of a hassle.
>Hopefully that’s a sign it’ll be much less of a hassle /in/ the castle, too.
>The ponies of Canterlot all but sing hymns about how patient Celestia is, but even she’d start getting testy at two diplomatic incidents in a row.
>You’re almost there now, and you can’t help but notice you’re making pretty good time!
>Not that you hadn’t believed her, but Pike really was spot on when she called unicorns, “the tribe of the mountaintops”.
>Even with the foot of snow on the streets left by the recent fall earlier today, you’re having no trouble at all keeping your footing.
>Or would it be hoofing?
>Regardless, you’re navigating the would-be difficult terrain with ease!
>It's like your hooves are natural snowshoes.
>That, combined with your relatively long legs, makes trotting through the snow on this sunny winter day feel like the most natural thing in the world.
>Makes you want to start prancing around, kick up some snow, and neigh!
>...
>As soon as the thought hits your mind, you stop dead in your tracks.
>Okay, that’s a little /too/ native for your liking.
>Let’s tone that back a bit, thoughts.
>You feel like you ought to think of something American to balance it out.
>Something like a... fourth of July Barbeque!
>Ah, now those are some good memories.
>If only vegetables benefited from slow cooking...
>Feeling your natural zen restored, you set off once more.
>It only takes a few more minutes of walking, and definitely not prancing, before you arrive at a familiar set of gates.
>But the gates aren’t the only familiar thing, there’s a familiar face as well.
>”Well, well, well,” a sly voice calls out. “I thought you were banned.”
>With a smile to match Astral Blade’s own, you correct her.
“Temporarily.”
>Not long after, the mare herself was leading you through the bustling halls of Canterlot castle.
>Today it seems like everywhere you look the halls are packed with ponies cleaning, guarding, and rushing about their day.
>A far cry from the nearly empty halls back when the orders were to keep the place locked down for visitors.
>And a much more welcoming sight, you might add.
>”Hey, don’t space out too hard there, Anon. Pike would /kill/ me if she heard I’d lost you in here,” Astral prods.
>You make a show of rolling your eyes at her; she, of all ponies, knows you know your way around here.
>She even already told you the destination!
>It’s just ‘in one of the Castle’s nice lounge rooms’, that’d be easy to find!
>Probably.
>Unfortunately though, while Astral knew where to go, her orders hadn’t included who sent them.
>But, if they’re using official channels like that it's probably not that shady, right?
>Plus, if they’ve got clearance to use one of those lounges, they’ve got to be on pretty good terms with the crown if nothing else.
>But, either way, you’re glad it's Astral escorting you.
>It's nice to both see a familiar face and know that if something is up she and Pike would be on it in an instant.
>”Speaking of Pike,” Astral starts, “did she ever mention she was going to set up a chance for the two of us to meet ‘n greet?”
>You think back to the past couple of months and nothing comes to mind.
“No, I don’t think so.”
>”I figured,” Astral grumbles.
>She abruptly takes a corner, and you follow her.
>”She said she’d set something up /forever/ ago and she never followed through.”
>Astral looks back over her shoulder at you.
>”But I’m not letting her off the hook, /we’re/ hanging out. Especially now that you’ve got that new mare with you.”
>Without even looking away from you, she smoothly maneuvers around a fallen bust that some maid is cleaning up.
>Man, bat echolocation is kind of freaky sometimes.
>”How is she, by the way?”
“Cut? She’s great.”
>Astral looks like that is /not/ what she was expecting to hear.
>”Really?”
>You playfully scoff at her.
“Why do you sound so surprised?”
>She laughs back and fully commits to the bit.
>”Probably because I am.”
“Come on,” you bristle. “What she did wasn’t /that/ bad.”
>Astral stops dead, fully turning to face you with a very surprised look on her face.
>Giving you a confused once over, she keeps searching your face for something in particular...
>Oh, did she think you were joking?
>After a few more moments of not finding what she’s looking for, she barks out a single “Ha!”
>”Mare, I knew a lot of gals growing up who’d have killed for a coltfriend /half/ as forgiving.”
>Turning on a dime, she resumes leading you down the hallway.
>As she does, you notice that this particular hallway actually dead-ends in a large, gold-trimmed door.
>Guess that must be your destination.
>”Did the Princesses ever establish a line to your homeland? It’d be nice to import some /stallions/ for once.”
>You laugh at the mental image.
>Trains and trains of stallions pulling up to the station, all eager for a tomboy.
>Guess the influx of Kirin must be hitting the single mares hard.
>A part of you feels for her, but the rest of you is reveling in her misery.
“Oh? And here a little batty had told me you weren’t into janefillies.”
>The description of Pike as a ‘little batty’ nearly knocks Astral off her hooves.
>”HA! Surely you’ve got at least a few /normal/ stallions.”
>The particular emphasis she puts on ‘normal’ tells you it's a joke, but you still play along.
>After all, it's not every day you get to crush someone’s dreams.
“Well, there’s a major emphasis on /few/.”
>Astral sighs, with a look of despair on her face that might be a touch genuine.
>”Damn..”
>Finally, the two of you reach the door.
>As you do, her mood immediately one-eighty’s, dropping the (mostly) faux-despair.
>”Well, here we are!”
>Without a moment’s hesitation she unceremoniously shoves the door open.
>”Try not to cause /too/ big of a diplomatic incident this time,” she wryly says.
>Stepping past her, you roll your eyes.
“Hey, you helped!”
>Just as you’re stepping across the threshold however, Astral stops you with a hoof on your withers.
“Hm?”
>You're surprised to see she looks genuinely concerned about something.
>”Hey, before you go, has Pike mentioned anything about something bothering her?”
>Your mind immediately flashes back to this morning, and the reaction she had when you asked about her parents.
>That’s not really worth bringing up though, at least not yet.
“Nothing in particular. Why?”
>She glances back the way you came, almost as if to check that Pike’s not there.
>”She just seems... off. I don’t know, it’s hard to describe to somepony who hasn’t worked with her for years.”
>Well that’s not very helpful.
>At least now you know /something’s/ up. Probably.
“I’ll keep an eye out.”
>Astral gives you an appreciative nod.
>”Thanks. Good luck in there.”
>You nod back, and step forward.
>Entering the chamber proper, you take in just what sort of spider’s parlor you’ve wandered into.
>Gotta say, if this really is just some elaborate ruse to kidnap you or something, they’re sure rolling out the red carpet for it.
>Set before you is nothing less than a fancy lounge taken straight out of a Victorian drama.
>Any wall space that isn’t dedicated to a window with a view of the gardens is taken up by either massive pieces of artwork, or bookshelves.
>Taking a quick gander at the art, the unifying theme seems to be unicorns doing important things.
>Fitting considering the accents on the envelope the fan sent you.
>There are unicorns climbing mountains, weaving spells, there’s even a painting of a group of unicorns that looks eerily similar to the one of the Founding Fathers signing the Constitution!
>Really, similar in fact.
>Really, /really/ similar.
>...How did that get here?
>Tearing your eyes away from the dimension-shattering painting, you take a look at what dominates the center of this room.
>Namely a collection of lounge sofas set around a large table.
>A table filled with silver platters and bottles of wine!
>You must have been duped into attending some sort of fancy get-together, there’s seating for at least five and more than enough wine to go around.
>No one’s here yet though, not even the host.
>You were admittedly expecting them to be here waiting for you. Where could they be?
>As if on cue, you become cognizant of the one feature of the room you hadn’t noticed yet.
>There’s a door directly across from you, muffling the sound of running water behind it.
>No sooner had you set your eyes upon it than the door flew open, sending a cloud of steam spilling into the lounge.
>You can’t see anything through the haze, but you can hear someone’s hoofsteps moving through it.
>Anticipation and trepidation are currently having a no-rules cage throwdown inside you, and it's only getting worse the closer the mystery pony comes to being in view.
>Finally, a white hoof steps before you, revealing the pony to be...
“Oh come on, you /again/!?”
>The beaming smile that was on Blueblood’s face is gone in a flash.
>”Wha- what’s that supposed to mean!?”
>Oh you said that /out loud/.
>That’s a little awkward.
“You just, ya’ know, got me hyped for the mystery! I was expecting some new mystery patron! Not someone I’d seen just a few days ago.”
>Seems you managed to worm your way out of that, because Blueblood’s smile comes right back.
>Although now it's much more smug.
>”I knew there was some stallion in there somewhere!”
>Happily trotting past you, he continues, “Sorry Anon, but you’re not living in some tantalizing serial, as exhilarating as that would be.”
>Says the guy who invited you via mysterious medallion and unsigned letter!
>Guess that’s just how this world’s nobles get their sick kicks.
>Could be a lot worse honestly.
>The Prince, oblivious to your internal monologue, comes to a stop at the table and starts giving its contents a once-over.
>”But I’m glad I was right! I figured this was the best way to get you to my bi-weekly wine and cheese hour, and here you are!”
>Oh! Well, that explains all the wine.
“So uh, why the sudden interest in having me around again?”
>Blueblood pauses, with what you hope is an /embarrassed/ blush on his face.
>”Well, it's a little embarrassing to admit...”
>Oh thank God.
>”...but you’re here to settle a wager for me.”
“What kind of wager?”
>Turning back to you, waves his hoof dismissively.
>”Oh, just a friendly one of course. One of my newer acquaintances believes ‘Anonymous’ to be a group of stallions who publish their articles anonymous/ly/.”
>Interesting.
>You suppose you can see where that mix-up could come from, but Jargon made it pretty clear it was /you/ writing them when you first started.
>Guess she wasn’t exaggerating, most stallions really didn’t read newspapers before you started writing in earnest.
>Including the one that featured a major article about your hiring!
“I better get a cut of those winnings.”
>He smiles at you, with the most shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen on a pony.
>”Of course, though I doubt you’ve the required interest in foreign cosmetics to claim it.”
>THAT’S what they’re betting with!?
>Lame! Where’s the cash?
“What is it, eyeliner made of gold?”
>”Well if I win, Golden has to give me a case of the Prench Morceau de Merde foundation that he got from his most recent trip to Prance. If you really wa—”
“No, that's okay, I’m good.”
>You can see his face scrunch in annoyance at being cut off, but instead of lashing out he turns away and busies himself inspecting the bottles of wine.
>”Suit yourself.”
>Indeed you will!
>But damn, that leaves this whole venture at a net loss.
>Blueblood doesn’t seem to actually have a scoop for you, and you can’t even make money off that bet!
>You’ll probably just dip out after Blueblood’s friends see you’re real.
>No reason to stick around and listen to a bunch of rich socialites yammer drunkenly about the recent gossip.
>...
>Wait a second.
“Hey, Blueblood, your friends won’t mind if I take some notes about our conversations, will they?”
>Your question catches him in the middle of grimacing at a wine bottle like it insulted his family.
>”Hm? Oh, of course. Fancy would undoubtedly /love/ the opportunity to gush about his upcoming spring fashion line to another member of high society. Especially to one as knowledgeable as you.”
>Alright! Now that’s something you can... report on...
>After the initial excitement at having such a scoop fades, the implications of Blueblood’s words puts a deep, deep pit in your gut.
>The ponies at this little get together will be your readers personified.
>Almost literally.
>If you make a joke of yourself here, not only will you not get the scoop, but your reputation could be toasted.
>No one will read your stupid articles about fashion if a group of major socialites start spreading around to everyone that you don’t actually know anything about fashion!
>You’d be fucked!
>Is it really worth it to stick around and risk it for the metaphorical biscuit?
>Well, as far as you know no pony’s complained thus far.
>/AND/ you really could use the story...
>Aw what the heck, how hard could it be?
>Ponies seem incapable of assuming anything but the best in others, so you’re sure it will turn out totally fine!
That's all for now! Hopefully I'll have more to show soon.
ETA of the whole thing?
5640790
I want to have it done in the next two weeks but honestly I have no idea.
Anon is being particularly suicidal here. Honestly though? He might not be wrong. He's so much of a mover and shaker in the fashion industry that he might just be considered knowledgeable à la Emperor's New Clothes fashion. That's the impression he's given me, at least.
I don't want to say anything lest I spoil stuff, but 😉