Prince Blueblood was slouched in his chair, looking sullen, bored, and out of sorts. Which was pretty much normal, for Blueblood, or so Gosling reckoned. There were several bottles of wine near Blueblood on the table, with about half of them empty, and one of them open. There was no wine glass. Papers, quills, pens, and portfolios were scattered all around Blueblood. The prince’s eyes were bloodshot and puffy.
“You wanted to see me, Blueblood?” Gosling asked.
“Have a seat, Gosling.” Blueblood gestured at an empty chair, his ears drooping, and he let out a weary sigh as he somehow hunched over even more. The sigh became a groan deep down in Blueblood’s throat, and then the groan became a stifled belch. Blueblood shuddered and made a face that looked as though he had put something sour in his mouth.
Sitting down, Gosling did as he was told. He looked at Blueblood, worried for the pony that he considered his friend. The prince didn’t look well. For some reason, somehow, Blueblood looked old, and it filled Gosling with concern.
“Congratulations are in order, Gosling—”
“What for?” Gosling asked.
Blueblood did not reply right away. Instead, he lifted up the open bottle of wine beside him, slipped it between his lips, tilted his head back, and finished it off in a few gulps. He set the bottle down, patted his stomach, and then looked Gosling in the eye.
“You are the new Lord Mayor of Canterlot.”
“What?” Gosling squirmed in his seat. “No… what? Are you pulling my primaries, Blue?”
Shaking his head, Blueblood began to open another bottle of wine.
“Um, last I checked, I am some no name chump that didn’t finish school. This is a mistake. This is a really bad idea, I have no business running a city… and I don’t want the position just because I’m standing in Celestia’s shadow—”
“Shut up and listen,” Blueblood said in a voice that held no patience. He tossed away the cork, which bounced over the floor, landing with other discarded corks, and set the wine bottle down upon the table beside him. “For once, just be quiet and stop running your mouth, you silly peacock pegasus.”
Miffed, Gosling squinted at Blueblood, but said nothing.
Lifting a pen, Blueblood began tapping it against the edge of the table in a staccato rhythm. As he drummed, his face contorted into an uncomfortable scowl of irritation. He looked down at the pile of clutter before him, then lifting his eyes, he looked over at Gosling. He rested his right front hoof upon the table, setting it down upon a ledger.
“Once, a long time ago, there was a young, idealistic prince. He didn’t know what he was doing. He found himself in over his head. Politics was an unknown, unnavigable sea, full of lurking monsters and sharp, unseen rocks.” Blueblood paused long enough to belch, and then he continued, “But he was determined to make things change. And things did change. But to make those changes, the prince first had to learn how to navigate the treacherous seas of politics.”
Now curious, Gosling’s ears perked up.
“This young prince was given the position of Lord Mayor from the previous Lord Mayor. He had no clue what he was doing, but the governance of the city was thrust upon him. The young prince had two options—sink or swim.” For a moment, Blueblood appeared annoyed, perhaps at his own somewhat slurred words. “The young prince quickly made friends, associates, he found help. He learned how to call in favours, the fine art of exchanging favours, and he learned a great deal. He had help from good ponies, ponies such as Fancy Pants.”
Gosling knew Fancy Pants, and liked him.
“The Lord Mayor of Canterlot is a fine and noble tradition, stretching all the way back to the appointment of Smart Cookie by Princess Platinum. Each Lord Mayor has chosen his successor, typically an up and comer that is in dire need of a fine education in governance. The specific purpose of this position is to place the Lord Mayor among the movers and shakers.”
Tilting his head off to one side, Gosling continued to listen.
“It is time for me to pass this position on,” Blueblood said in a somber voice.
“Wait, Celestia said something about you trying to have all of the blame shifted upon you so you can step down… you’re quitting your—”
“Gosling,” Blueblood said, interrupting the young pegasus and smiling a sad smile. “I’m done, Gosling. I think I’ve been done for a while. I’ve grown tired of being a bastard. I’m getting jaded and I’m losing faith in the system I’ve sworn my very existence to protect.”
“But you can’t!” Gosling blurted out.
“Oh yes I can,” Blueblood said, offering up an argument. “No more Lord Mayor. No more official positions. I’m done. The only job that Celestia demands that I perform is to act as your tutor, which I will gladly do.”
“I’m flattered, thank you.” Gosling’s eyes narrowed and he shook his head. “But why? There has to be more to it than what you are telling me. You’re good at what you do. If you’re tired, just take a break for a while… have a vacation. Equestria needs you. We need you.”
“I’m growing older, Gosling. Oh, I’m not old yet, but I’ve hit that point where one begins to think about their life in more detail.” Blueblood let out a sigh, rubbed his temple, and then brushed his forelock out of his face. “Gosling, I’m in love. With my current positions, there are conflicts of interest for me if I pursue my relationship with Raven. I want to be with her while I am still almost young enough to enjoy it. I want to have a few foals with her. Watching you with my aunt… it has made me realise what it is that I want. I’m not quitting, I’m passing on the torch.”
“But I… but you… but we… us… all of us… I…” As Gosling stammered, he shook his head and then grasped at straws. “But what about democracy? Shouldn’t the mayor be elected?”
Hearing Gosling’s words, Blueblood let out a sincere chuckle and his sad expression melted away, like clouds parting to reveal a shining sun. “Gosling, the Canterlot nobles would lynch you if you tried to change their beloved tradition and Celestia would let them. There are some things that you just don’t change.”
His ears splaying out, Gosling assumed a more confused, submissive posture. He slouched in his chair, his eyes locked on Blueblood, and his mouth opened several times but no words seemed forthcoming. After several failed attempts to communicate, Gosling nodded and then went still.
“You’re learning,” Blueblood remarked. “You shouldn’t worry too much about the position. You’ll have help. Canterlot is a microcosm of Equestria. In time, you’ll learn how to run this city, you will learn the fine art of governance, you will learn how to budget, how to allocate resources, you will learn all of the little things you need to know to allow this city to continue to thrive.”
“Okay, I’m game.” Gosling’s ears stood up and it appeared as though some of his confidence was returning.
“Shining Armor was to be my replacement, but complications arose. He scarpered off and went north with Cadance. So much for duty.” Blueblood’s eyes fell upon the pile of papers in front of him and he chuckled again, his barrel bouncing up and down. His laughter was interrupted with a loud, gurgling belch. Lifting up his bottle, Blueblood began to swish and swirl the wine around.
As the wine in the bottle sloshed around, Blueblood said, “I suppose that Raven and I shall have to treat one another better. I don’t want my future sons and daughters thinking that I don’t love their mother, or don’t respect her.” Brows furrowing, he added, “I’ve never much cared for change, Gosling. It’s uncomfortable. This whole thing terrifies me.”
Gosling nodded, but said nothing.
“The official announcement will happen during the engagement gala. I will proclaim you as Lord Mayor and then I shall resign from my post. Fancy Pants is practically beside himself right now, he is looking forward to working with you. He is very, very excited. Fancy Pants is one of those ponies who enjoys change, provided it is none too drastic.”
“Blueblood, I don’t know what to say.” Gosling looked at the stallion sitting across from him, wishing that he could say something profound and meaningful. Try as he might, Gosling couldn’t find the words. “What about Raven?”
“Raven is staying in her position, but in a somewhat reduced capacity. The hunt for a replacement begins. Raven just turned thirty and her biological clock became a ticking time bomb. She wishes to advance our relationship to something a bit more gentle, such as tea and sodomy.”
“So, uh, the, uh, whips and the chains—”
“Oh, Gosling, we’re not giving up on those, how else shall we conceive offspring?” Blueblood had a wicked smile upon his face as he took a swig of wine. A little wine dribbled down his chin, staining it a vivid, purple-red. “Raven and I see it as a civic duty.”
“Civic duty?” Gosling asked.
Blueblood leaned forwards, now looking quite serious. “I do believe that you and Celestia are about to start a family. Your foals are going to need playmates.”
“I dunno,” Gosling replied, shrugging, “a smart parent keeps their foals away from those weirdo foals with scary parents.”
Throwing back his head, Blueblood guffawed and very nearly fell out of his chair. His whole body shook with laughter and the wine bottle landed upon the table with a thump, sending a geyser of wine shooting out of the neck of the bottle. Tears rolled down Blueblood’s cheeks, which caused him to reach up and wipe his eyes with his foreleg.
When he recovered, he stared at Gosling, his eyes bright and merry. Blueblood leaned forwards over the table, and lifted up his bottle again. “Here is to your good health, Gosling.” Lifting his bottle in salute, Blueblood waved his hoof and dismissed Gosling. He then proceeded to down the entire bottle in just a few gulps.
Setting down the bottle, Blueblood said, “You are free to go. I understand that you need to be fitted still. Good luck with that, I’ve never had the patience.”
“Thank you, Blue,” Gosling replied in a soft voice. “I mean it, for everything. I wish you weren’t stepping down, but I look forward to having you as a mentor.”
“And I look forward to having you as an uncle!”
Invisible, hidden from view, silenced from sensitive ears, two sisters watched as a pony squirmed, shying away from the seamstress and her pins. The pony, a pegasus, wasn’t too keen on such a formal fitting, and it amused the two sisters to no end. The smaller of the two looked quite sleepy and it appeared as though she might doze off soon. Her muzzle was covered in sticky pie crumbs.
“Yous need to be more careful!”
Watching, giggling, Celestia saw Gosling’s wing shy away from the fitting pins. She could see the fear in his eyes. He hadn’t yet figured out that the secret to not being stuck was to hold perfectly still. It was such a simple thing, really.
“It is the way he talks, dear sister,” Luna said in a voice that was heard by no one but the white alicorn beside her. “We doth find it most pleasing.” Smacking her lips, Luna then licked away a bit of pie from the corner of her mouth.
“Woah, dat’s a big pin yous gots dere, whatchu plannin’ on doin’ wid dat?”
Still giggling, Celestia watched as Gosling sidestepped the grumpy old seamstress. With an impish grin, Celestia leaned out her long, slender neck, placed her lips close to Gosling’s ear, and blew through puckered lips.
Ear flicking and twitching, Gosling stepped in the other direction and walked right into the seamstress’ pin as she advanced. He let out a yelp and Luna began to giggle, sounding quite foalish as she did so. Gosling stepped away, looking confused, his ear still twitching.
“Hold still!” the seamstress commanded.
“No way, I’s goin’ naked!” Gosling retorted.
“You can’t!” the grumpy old mare replied. “Now hold still, before I grab you!”
“Gah, you’s gonna stab me again!” Flapping his wings, Gosling began to back away, retreating from the ill tempered, stab-happy unicorn mare and her collection of stabtastic pins.
As he did, Celestia stuck out her hind leg, which he stumble-bumped into, and then Gosling tumbled down in a heap, sitting upon the floor as Luna tittered with fillyish laughter. A wide, wry grin spread over Celestia’s muzzle.
“Somepony tripped me!”
“You tripped yourself,” the old mare snapped. “Now come back here, so that I can fit you!”
“I’s goin’ naked.” Gosling regained his hooves. “I’s goin in my natural state. I’sa pretty pegasus, I don’t need no fancy jacket.”
“I love a challenge!” the old mare lunged and Luna, invisible, had to step aside to get out of the way. “You act like a peacock but really, you’re just a jive turkey!”
Gosling’s mouth fell open in shock as he scrambled away from the testy old nag trying to drain every drop of blood from his body with her instruments of impalement. He stumbled over a stool, lept over a padded bench, and then steeplechased his way through the fitting room, avoiding many treacherous obstacles with a startling ease.
As both sisters stood laughing, Gosling got the window open and then made good with his escape, leaving behind a spitting, sputtering old mare, who stood there shaking her hoof at him while he departed.