//------------------------------// // 34) Month 3 - Ta Chrysá Papoútsia // Story: Climbing the Mountain 2 // by Talon and Thorn //------------------------------// The stage was revealed, three pegasus mares, their hind legs covered in silk constructions made to look like long fish tales were reclining on a large rock in the centre of the stage. Their manes were extended into huge fluffy masses of blue, purple and orange stretching far further than any natural hair could. The central mare, her orange mane covering most of her form stretched out her neck and let out a number of quick calls more like bird song than speech, her sisters followed her before their voices lowered into something more like normal song. Fragrant found herself humming along with the opening tune. “Um, what are they saying?” asked Max his brow furrowed. Fragrant was confused for a second, then she realised the issue and her cheeks glowed at her mistake. “Oh, I should have thought. The opera is in Pegalopian, the pre-unification pegasus language,” she explained. “You can understand it?” he exclaimed. “Most of Cloudsdale has at least a passing grasp of the language, I am fluent in it, although a little out of practice.” She had a quick flash to the long hours with her tutor as a foal, she had actually quite enjoyed that class, although Thunderous had done his best to avoid it. “I’m sorry Max, it's common for modern productions to be translated or to have unicorns produce subtitles. I should have known that Ancient’s production would be in the original language. I... I’ll try to explain things as they go...” “That’s alright, I’m sure I’ll manage to pick it up as I go along,” said Max putting on a slightly wobbly smile. “So, they’re some sort of sea pony then?” She turned back to the stage for a moment. “They are the sirens, the daughters of the sea and the guardians of their father’s gold. Their song is giving thanks to the sun for a new day and sets the scene for the rest of the play.” On the stage the actresses were slowly flying around making paddling gestures with their forelegs to make it look like they were swimming. Unlike most of the shows put on by the earthbound tribes the opera was making good use of the whole of the stage space. She admired the acrobatics of the actresses for a moment, it couldn’t have been easy to fly like that with the long tails attached to their hind legs dragging them down. Then she noticed a fourth figure perched on a ledge of cloud near the top of the stage. She couldn’t help but shudder at the sight. The creature's coat was splattered with some sort of brown paint leaving it matted and dirty, the actor was clearly a pegasus but his wings were tied firmly down. After several long moments of leering down at the sirens below he began to sing, seeming to try to match the actresses below but his voice was discordant, following the tune but never quite matching it. Max must have noticed her distress as he rested a leg across her back and she gratefully leant against him. “That’s All Broken,” she whispered, “he’s a Gennithike Laspe.” She noted Max’s furrowed brow. “Um, a Mud Grub would be the closest translation I think.” Earthworm might work as well, Pegalopian didn’t have many words for the ground. “Mud Grub?” “They’re mythological creatures, pony shaped but formed out of slime, they’re rather stupid, rude and cruel. I’ve always found them rather creepy.” She shuddered again, as a filly she used to have nightmares about one of them creeping into my room at night. There were myths of them stealing pegasus foals and taking them away to force them to in the dark under the ground never again to see the sky. “In the play Broken tries to court the sirens, but of course they turn him down. He swears to hurt them as they’ve hurt him, and he steals their father's gold.” As predicted on the stage Broken was apparently trying to attract the attention of the three sirens but they ‘swam’ away, laughing. The actresses flipped their costumes tails dismissively towards the Mud Grub as they left. The cloud Broken was standing on drifted down depositing the actor onto the centre of the stage where he started to sing by himself vowing revenge against those who had spurned him. “You know,” hissed Max, “I’ve not heard of a Mud Grub before or any pony like monster made of mud really.” “Well the stories are from a long time ago now, and back in the old homelands” replied Fragrant keeping her eyes on the stage. “They probably never really existed, or if they did they might be long extinct by now.” “I suppose so,” mused Max, “I would have thought that most of the monsters from pegasus mythology would be flying things.” “There certainly are some, like the Seffenforteeseffen, but pegasus are at their best in the air, we can always fly away. It’s when we're on the ground that we’re most vulnerable. Vulnerable to ugly, muddy, sticky things like that.” She pointed a hoof towards the figure of Broken as he finished constructing some sort of net and used it to entangle the sirens. She shuddered again as he grabbing the pile of gold and ran but not before viciously stamping on his helpless captives. “This is rather more gratuitous than most productions. In most modern productions he just flees rather than tormenting them so.” “I guess your ancestors were rather more bloodthirsty than you,” said Max. “Possibly, ancient pegasus culture was rather militaristic. Still maybe some sort of warning should be put on future performances. I wouldn’t want foals to see this sort of thing, it could give them nightmares!” Fragrant glanced down at the audience below, there didn’t seem to be many foals present although some of the ponies were giving mumbles of displeasure, maybe they didn’t approve of the violence either. Fragrant’s attention was drawn back to the stage as the next scene started. The stage had been reset with various banks of cloud filling most of the space in tiers. The horns in the orchestra played out a fanfare and one by one pegasus flew onto the stage to take their places. “Look!” exclaimed Fragrant grasping Max’s leg, “It’s the Pegalopians!” She watched with a smile as actor after actor, clad in rather impressive looking armour of silver, and in a few cases even gold, lined up on the stage. “That must be Hurricane, the king of Pegalopasus,” said Fragrant pointing at a stallion standing centre stage. He was in late middle age with his dark blue coat streaked with silver, but despite his age he stood straight with no a sign of weakness, a rather impressive figure. He looked sort of familiar to her... “It’s Leading Light!” she exclaimed, “he used to be in so many plays when I was younger, I had such a crush on him!” She couldn’t help but grin at the flash of jealousy which ran across Max’s face. “I haven't seen him for years! He’s aged rather well,” see teased. “Commander Hurricane?” asked Max, apparently trying to change the subject, “from the Hearthwarming play?” “Probably not,” said Fragrant. “The opera is older than that story by more than a millennium, Hurricane was something of a title used by pegasus rulers in history. I’m not sure if the one in the opera is supposed to be a particular ruler or just a symbol of being a ruler in general. Ancient probably knows, I might be able to ask him later. That must be Thunder,” she continued pointing to an exceptionally large mare with a hammer strapped to her side. “He’s normally portrayed as a stallion, and those must be Sleet and Snow and that Tornado...” She quickly listed off the various pegasus heroes appearing. Of course, from a purely historical perspective the line-up was impossible, they covered at least two or three centuries maybe much longer and many were completely mythological. Still she couldn’t ignore how impressive they looked. “That must be Low Key,” she said pointing to the only non-pegasus performer, a griffin with dyed red plumage. “Did they use griffin actors even back then,” she mused. This performance really was raising all sorts of questions she’d have to see if she could arrange a meeting with Ancient to discuss it all, maybe she should have paid more attention in the run up to the performance, although that would have spoiled the surprise. The cast moved onto the next song as they praised the strength of the newly founded Pegalopasus and the feats needed to build the great cloud city. It was rather catchy and even Max couldn’t seem to stop from humming along. Then a darker tone was struck as Hurricane sang of the various deals and alliances needed to strengthen the city. The music trailed off as a new group of actors entered the stage. Like the rest of the cast they were all pegasus but had their wings bound down, but that was hardly the first thing most observers would notice about them. That would be the prosthetic horns almost as long as the rest of the actor’s bodies. The things had to weigh a ton but still they managed to hold their heads up high and practically prance across the stage. Several of them even knocked their horns together apparently in less than good natured competition. It actually took Fragrant a few moments to recognise them as Perífanoi Kérata, the Long Horns. Their costumes were a rather unusual interpretation of the creatures, normally they were depicted with two or even three shorter curled horns, more like cattle or goats than this. Their leader Svadifari, stepped forwards and demanded his people's compensation for their part in the creation of the city. Behind him the rest of the Perífanoi pawed the ground and bickered with each other. Glancing aside Fragrant noticed Max’s brow was furrowed in concentration, presumably he was trying to figure out what was happening. The lack of translation was unfortunate but he seemed to be coping so far. She opened her mouth to explain the current situation but he spoke before she could. “Are they supposed to be unicorns?” “They’re called Long Horns actually,” she explained, “but I suppose they do look something like them in this version.” It was rather off putting really how much like a caricature of unicorns the creatures portrayed on the stage looked. Now she thought about it she did recall something about the mythical creatures used in the opera being based on the ancient pegasus’s beliefs of their fellow tribe, the play had been written before unification after all. A sort of cold horror started to spread over her body. Surely there wasn’t anything to worry about, the Perífanoi Kérata might look a little like unicorns but they weren’t portrayed as a fellow tribe instead they.... She stared at the stage mutely as the pegasus paid the ‘Long Horns’ for their services in gems which they started to plaster over their skins before squabbling over the best of the spoils. Svadifari stepped forwards demanding greater compensation for his tribe's work his voice like a petulant child. They were portrayed as being vain and shallow and greedy, just as many unicorns were stereotyped even today. Fragrant swallowed with difficulty, all the moisture seemed to have gone from her mouth. “I... I... well,” she managed after a few moments. “I suppose they, well, yes,” she finally managed. Judging by the sounds of outrage from the seats below it seemed like much of the audience had managed to make the connection as well. This couldn’t be happening! She felt like she was affixed to her seat, she couldn’t look away from what was unfolding on the stage below. “And those Mud Grub things from earlier,” asked Max quietly, “were they supposed to be earth ponies?” Fragrant’s head snapped to the side catching the look of confusion and hurt on Max’s eyes. “No, of course not, the Mud Grubs they’re, well they’re...” They were lowly, boorish, brutish, stupid creatures which lived in the mud and prayed on pegasus... Was that really what her ancestors had thought of earth ponies? “Well, I suppose, maybe they might,” she found her mouth continuing seeming without any input from her mind. “It’s just a play, it’s very old,” she protested, “It doesn’t really matter what my ancestors thought does it?” “Is that... is that what you think of my tribe? Of me?” he muttered, the sadness in his voice driving a knife into her heart. “No! No, no, Max I would never, I don’t” she spluttered not caring if somepony in the theatre might hear her. “I didn’t realise, I didn’t think, I’m sorry...” Max couldn’t think he was like that, could he? But she’d been so proud of this opera, of her heritage, she just hadn’t thought what it might mean to another tribe, hadn’t looked past the glorification of her people. Max blinked a few times. “I know, sorry, I know you aren't like that...” “No, you shouldn’t be apologizing, it’s me, I made you come along! I didn’t think.” “How couldn’t you know what this play was like?” he asked his brow furrowing. “I didn’t think, most productions aren't like this they’re more...” she trailed off. They were what? More sanitised? Pretending that her ancestor’s views of the other tribes were instead other creatures entirely? Of course she’d been vaguely aware of the stories implications but she hadn’t really given it much mind. But now with any subtly ripped away the stories original intentions were clear. “I’m sorry, this... well this must have been how the ancient pegasus saw things, but I don’t, I couldn’t...” She fell silent, she just didn’t have the words right now. “Yeah,” said Max with a weak smile on his face. “I guess things were different back there, maybe if you’d asked my so many times great grandparents what they thought of unicorns or pegasus they wouldn’t be so polite.” He leaned forwards and rested his head against her own. “I know you don’t see things like this anymore.” “Max, I... thank you...” she breathed letting her eyes close for a moment. She was so glad how easily he’d forgiven her, but had he, she still felt a certain tenseness in him. Her ears pricked up as she heard boos and cat calls from the theatre. It sounded like the audience had been enraged enough for them to ignore the normal prohibition at speaking during a performance. Certainly, anyone involved in the performance deserved their scorn, then her heart sank as she realised that she was involved with the performance. As the sponsor she would likely be considered even more culpable than even the director, she had even spoken on behalf of the production. A surge of anger flashed inside her, why hadn’t Saltpeter told her what the play was about? She had asked him to keep an eye on the production. She would never have exposed Max to this if she had been warned in advance, she would have shut the whole production down! This debatical could ruin her! There would be talk of tribalism at court, could this be some sort of attack from another courtier? Had someone gotten to Saltpeter to stop him warning her? Who would dare to do something like that given the Princesses warning? “So,” said Max disturbing her thoughts, “What now?” he gestured towards the stage where the action was quickly drawing towards the end of the first act. The Perífanoi Kérata, the unicorns, were making more and more unreasonable demands of Pegalopalus. Now just their valuables but their stallions and mares now. Finally a deal was struck that only the gold of the sea king would be enough to satisfy them, resulting in the quest which would make up most of the remaining opera. Under other situations Fragrant would have enjoyed the song, it was normally one of her favourite but now that she recognised the character assassination against the unicorns it left a bad taste in her mouth and she turned away. “I... I’m going to see the director, have the show stopped,” she announced. “Isn’t that a little extreme?” asked Max. “No, I can’t have the ponies of the audience insulted in such a way. My name is very much connected with the work. I can’t have things continue.” “Maybe it’ll get better in the second half?” suggested Max. Fragrant thought of the future scene’s, the underground caves of the Gennithike Laspe... of the earth ponies. Of Broken having appealed to Tirek himself to create the golden horseshoes the play was named after and to use them to control his kin and threaten the pegasus. Of the squalid conditions the Mud Grubs were portrayed as living in. How Broken was tricked and his greed used against him by the Pegalopians. Then the greed backstabbing and kin murder of the unicorns. No, the story wasn’t going to get any better or any more palatable to the audience. The angry reactions from the seats below were getting louder, boos and catcalls being directed at the actors, who were so far taking things in their stride. It was lucky the theatre did not serve food or fruit likely have been being thrown. If things continued like this there might even be a riot. She almost sighed with relief as the gas lights were relit, indicating the end of the first act. “No Max,” she said shaking her head sadly. “I don’t think things are going to get better.” “Well...” Max fidgeted in place, “I’m sure no pony will hold what happened on the stage against you.” She smiled weakly, he was being very sweet, but hopelessly naive if he believed what he was saying. “I financed the play and was recognised by the director as being responsible, ponies will very much hold this against me.” “But you didn’t know it would be like this-” began Max. “No,” butted in Fragrant, “I didn’t, but I knew what the story was about really, using the terns mud grub and long horn, well it’s obvious what those mean when you think about it. I knew the idea behind the story was tribalist, I just didn’t think about it because the story portrays my ancestors as heroes.” “Well things were like that back then, there are a lot of stories back in Nulpar which don’t paint some of the other tribes so well.” “And would you perform them to a mixed audience? Without warning them?” she said trying to stop herself snapping. Max was trying to help but his optimism was getting annoying, she needed to think about what to do. “Sorry. What are you going to do?” “I’ll have to stop the play, probably talk to Ancient, arrange some sort of public apology.” If she was lucky she might be able to pre-empt any press attention. Although she was sure somepony had already contacted them by now. “Can I help?” asked Max cautiously. “No,” she shook her head, “you should keep yourself out of this, leave it to me. Maybe you can make a discreet exit?” It wasn’t a word that normally fitted Max very well. “If you’re sure?” Fragrant nodded. “I don’t want to leave you alone,” he leaned forwards and nuzzled her. She sighed. “Thank you Max, but I need to deal with this by myself. I’m sorry this hasn’t been much of a date.” “Hey, it could be worse, I could be covered in soup,” he joked giving a weak smile. “I’m sure things will go better next time.” “Thank you Max,” said Fragrant again, straightening her dress and making her way towards the door. Max quickly made his way through the corridors trying to find his way back to the entrance. He was sure it was somewhere near here but he seemed to have gotten turned around at some point. He was sure he’d passed the stallion’s room at least twice so far. Maybe he could try to sneak out via a window in there? He nervously giggled to himself for a moment, maybe things weren’t quite that severe. He tried to keep a straight face as he passed another small gaggle of angry looking ponies. He really hoped they didn’t think this whole thing was Fragrant’s fault. He knew she wouldn’t have done something like this on purpose, it must have been some sort of mix up. Still she had said she’d liked the story when she’d seen it before, she just hadn’t made the connection between the creatures portrayed and the other tribes, but how could she have missed it? Maybe in Cloudsdale they didn’t see many non-pegasus, but Fragrant had spent most of her time in Canterlot. Had she been willingly blind to the connection? He sighed, the idea of earth ponies being portrayed as being dirty, ignorant, violent savages really got to him, maybe because he felt that he was like that sometimes? He stopped his trot and screwed up his face, was that it? He couldn’t shake the feeling that he never really fit in amongst the rest of the court and with Fragrant? She always seemed so elegant, like the Pegalopians in the play, and he couldn’t help but feel like a savage living in the mud at her hooves sometimes, just like the mud grubs. He shook his head it wasn’t good for him to think like that. “Disgusting,” proclaimed a nearby unicorn, “those prosthetics, trying to have false horns, I have never been so insulted in my life!” “It should be banned,” agreed her companion stamping a hoof. “I’m sure you feel just the same?” asked the original mare turning to Max. “Well, um, it was fairly lurid, but it was very old, things were different back then,” said Max glancing around to see if there was a way to avoid the conversation. “You can’t seriously be supporting that travesty, look how it portrayed your tribe. All that mud!” She shuddered. “Well no, but the tribes were-” begun Max. “I never trusted those pegasus, always looking down on the rest of us, thinking they are so much better,” interrupted the unicorn stallion his companion nodding along. “All the tribes used to think of each other that way,” protested Max, “we’re just not proud of it anymore, we all have stories which paint the other tribes in a bad light.” “But to show them publicly! That Ancient fellow, and duchess Posey, they’re nothing more than tribalists. The princess should do something about it!” “This isn’t Fragrant’s fault,” exclaimed Max, “she didn’t know it would be like this!” “Of course she didn’t,” said the stallion scornfully. “You don’t have to make up apologies for her, it's unbecoming,” he snorted turning away leaving Max fuming. Holding his tongue Max stomped off to continue his search for the exit before he did something rash. “Sorry Ma’am, staff only,” mumbled the large white stallion in a steward’s uniform blocking Fragrant’s path. “Do you know who I am?” hissed Fragrant glaring at the stallion. “Um, no,” he admitted starting to look rather nervous. “I am Duchess Fragrant Posey of Cloudsdale! Minister of Weather! It is my money which has been funding this laughable performance!” She stamped a hoof on the floor in frustration. “Look I’m sorry, ma’am um Duchess, sir, ma’am,” said the steward sweat starting to drip down his head, his eyes flicking from side to side presumably looking for someone to take charge. “But I can’t let anypony back here, it could be dangerous, there are ropes and magic and stuff.” “Very well,” said Fragrant gritting her teeth and trying to regain her composure. The servant was only doing his job, her problems were not his fault. “Please go and get Ancient Skies this instant, tell him that his patron wants to speak to him... now!” she commanded. The servant paused for a moment then quickly galloped off. Letting out a long sigh Fragrant tried to relax. She hoped Max had gotten away by now, on her way here she had passed several unhappy members of the audience chattering to each other. Luckily none had seemed able to work up the nerve to confront her directly, but there had been many angry glares. Almost worse there had been appreciative nods from a few of the pegasus she had passed, always those she knew still clung to the older ways. Ways that either didn’t involve the other tribes, or which had very specific places for them. It made her want to take a long hot bath, but she doubted even lava would be hot enough to remove the taint from her. She just didn’t know what she could do, she would have to cancel the performance obviously, but what she could do to try and fix her reputation... still it could be worse, if only marginally, at least the princess herself hadn’t been present. “My lady, you wanted to talk to me?” came a gentle voice from in front of her drawing her from her thoughts. She blinked realising Ancient must have arrived. “Yes,” she hissed. “Maybe somewhere a little more private?” he suggested calmly. Fragrant nodded, not quite trusting herself to speak, it probably wasn’t best if they talked in public. “My office then,” he opened the door to the backstage. The place was a hive of activity with ponies running back and forth presumably preparing for the next act, an act that wasn’t going to take place if she had anything to say about it. Ancient’s office was smaller than Fragrant would have expected and rather messy, the desk, walls and even much of the floor were covered with notes and diagrams of the costumes and stage. Ancient sat at one side of the desk still annoyingly calm and gestured to another seat which Fragrant refused to take, she wanted to give her anger more space. “What was the meaning of that, that display out there?” exclaimed Fragrant, pointing an accusing hoof. “Display? It is what I promised, the most historically accurate performance of Ta Chrysá Papoútsia in centuries, I have spared no expense to make sure of that.” He actually seemed proud of his achievement. “But’s its offensive, tribalist! The mud grubs! The long horns! They’re, they’re caricatures of the other tribes!” Ancient cocked his head in seeming confusion. “As they have always been, the relationships between the tribes before unification is established history. Although the norm was a sort of uneasy truce, raids and even full blown wars were not uncommon. Given that it’s not like anypony would give pause to lampooning the other tribes, as the opera does.” “But things aren’t like that anymore! The tribes work together for the betterment of all ponykind!” Most of the time she added mentally. “Yes, things have indeed changed,” said Ancient with what Fragrant felt might have been a touch of regret, “but the point of this exercise is not to produce a modern interpretation of the subject matter, was it? Any hack could do that, what I have done is to recreate the original!” For the first time he seemed possessed of some passion about his subject, his hooves waving dramatically. “To give a true insight into our ancestor’s mindsets.” “And those mind sets are not acceptable nowadays!” “Does that mean that nopony should be aware of them? That we should censor history, as other modern productions have done? Water down the original just so it is palatable to a modern audience? So that ponies never have to think for themselves?” His eye flashed dangerously and his wings spread. Fragrant narrowed her eyes her own wings rising to meet his challenge. “Are you saying that this whole thing some sort of protest against censorship? That you planned this!” “I make no such claims, but others may think whatever they want. I only agreed to produce an authentic historic experience. It is after all what you paid for.” “This isn’t what I wanted!” exclaimed Fragrant, “I wanted to show Equestria part of Cloudsdale’s history! Our culture! I didn’t want to insult or upset anypony.” She certainly hadn’t wanted to offend Max, it was supposed to be something to bring them closer together, not push him away. “You didn’t protest until now, did you?” Which brought back the question of why Saltpeter hadn’t warned her earlier, something which she would be having words with him about. “Regardless, this can go no further, I am cancelling this performance!” Ancient’s eyes widened. “You can’t do this!” he exclaimed shooting to his hooves and looming over the table. “Not after all the work I’ve put into this and the other operas!” “I can,” said Fragrant calmly meeting his gaze, “as you said this production was paid for by my money and I can withdraw my support at any time. A few words with the theatre’s board and you will have nowhere to perform, as it is it doesn’t look like you would have an audience anyway.” Ancient fumed silently for a moment. “Very well,” he said somewhat sulkily as he broke eye contact, “I can’t stop you.” “No, you can’t,” she agreed, “and you’re going to come with me to face what is no doubt a horde of press outside, and apologize for what you have done.” “You can’t!” he exclaimed without much conviction his wings starting to fold in around him. “I very much can, I can make sure that you never work in anything larger than a school play. Do. Not. Test. Me.” It seemed for a moment that Ancient might argue but eventually he nodded, his face looking like he had been sucking lemons. “Fine,” he eventually announced. Fragrant nodded turning towards the door so that the stallion didn’t see her sigh. That was the first hurdle navigated, now she had to face the press, she thought with a shudder. The entrance to the theatre was packed with ponies all loudly giving reviews of the show. The crowd was enough to cause Fragrant to shy away for a moment but she quickly steadied herself, taking a deep breath and concentrating on the comforting feel of her dress against her coat. She glanced over toward Ancient who was standing a little behind her, he likewise seemed a little intimidated, although he still held his head high. Well she certainly wasn’t going to be upstaged by him. Fragrant stepped forwards towards the crowd, much of it had already noticed and had turned to face her. “Ponies!” she called just loud enough to break through the hubbub, she unfortunately had a lot of experience dealing with mobs like this, too much of it in the court chamber. “I have a statement to make,” she began. Her words instantly led to all of crowd wanting to talk to her at once. She held up a hoof for silence again. “I have a statement to make,” she repeated. This time the other voices died down. “I wish to apologize for any insult you may have suffered in tonight's performance. I was not aware how,” her eyes leapt to Ancient again, “how extreme the presentation was to be. The shows run will be cancelled and all tickets refunded.” That would not be cheap, on the back of the cost of her misguided plans to counter Corona’s influence on Equestria’s weather this would be a bad year for her finances. A tan unicorn with a notebook floating in his aura raised a hoof. Internally Fragrant swore, it looked like the press were here already. “Duchess,” he cried, “can you confirm if you approve of the presentation of the other tribes in this show?” “No I do not, I was unaware of the details of the performance until just now and was as distressed by it as any other Equestrian.” “Are you saying that you were not aware of the shows content, despite sponsoring it?” asked another journalist. Fragrant looked around the crowd she was a little surprised that Lilac wasn’t here, she guessed the filly’s interview would be rather more sellable than it has been a few hours ago after this debacle. “I am a very busy pony and I support many artists. I am afraid I do not always have time to supervise them all.” She hoped that didn’t sound to pompous. She should have found out about this in advance, Saltpeter should have told her. “In this case details of the performance did not reach my ears.” “But you did choose to support Ta Chrysá Papoútsia knowing the tribalist content?” “The play is very old, it was written in a completely different time. Modern performances try to minimise the offence given.” “Do you think it’s right for foals to have to see things like this?” came another cry. “Will you be stepping down at court?” called a pink pegasus from the back. “Are you a member of The Daughters of the Hurricane?” came a third voice. This was starting to get out of hoof, thought Fragrant, she certainly didn’t have anything to do with any pegasus supremacy organisations. “Quiet, quiet!” she called trying to regain control of the situation. “As I said I regret this situation and all tickets will be refunded. The director of the performance, Ancient Skies will now apologize for his, overzealous, interpretation of the subject matter.” She glared at the stallion hoping he wasn’t going to make a scene. “Thank you, Duchess Posey,” said Ancient through gritted teeth. “I apologize for any offence my work may have caused. Anypony who had put in the effort to understand the history and context of the opera would have been able to prepare themselves for it. It must be understood that the mores of the time it was written in were of course much different from today, it was a different and in some way purer time.” The crowd once again broke into angry mumbles. Trying to stop herself from stamping Fragrant moved forwards to stop Ancient making the situation any worse, but she was too late. “Lady Philhamonica,” called Ancient gesturing at the court musician who stood somewhat apart from the rest of the crowd. “At least you must understand the purity of my vision? You have also managed to recreate a previously lost piece of music.” The grey mare shuffled a little as all eyes turned to her before straightening. “I have to admit that what you have done is impressive,” she said after a moment, “I have also done some research on the subject and cannot fault your troupe’s performance for veracity.” “See, the court musician herself supports my work-” “However,” continued Octavia cutting off Ancient, “I am appalled that you did not warn the audience of what you were intending, such shock tactics. When I performed the Symphony for Moon and Sun I attempted to overcome the previous offensive misinterpretations. You appear to have tried to do the opposite. To me this suggests that you are only thinking of your own notoriety! When performing it is important to think of your audience's sensibilities as well as your own. As a musician I recognise your talent, but as an Earth Pony I am insulted by your lurid display.” Ancient bristled at the criticism. “How dare you! It is not my fault if the audience were not prepared for what they saw. All that I have done is for my craft! To ensure the beauty of ancient works are brought forwards into the present. I did tell the audience exactly what the production was going to be, if they don’t care to recognise what that would mean. Well I have no responsibility for others reactions to my work. I would have expected more from the court musician, maybe some of the rumours about how you got your position are true!” He snorted. “Really?” said Octavia icily. She lowered her gaze and cocked her head slightly. “It appears that you have not entirely stuck to the tradition you rate so highly. From what I have heard in Pegalopian culture the role of playwright was only open to geldings. From what I can see you are not so qualified, although I would be more than willing to help you with that if you continue to insult me and the rest of these ponies.” With a last glare she turned and stormed from the theatre followed by a number of other equally angry ponies. “Yeah!” cried a young unicorn mare from Octavia’s entourage, before rearing up on her hind legs and smashing her hooves together in a crushing motion. Before anything worse could happen Fragrant quickly indicated to the theatre staff to disperse the crowd and dragged the still speechless Ancient away from them. She still had the true source of her troubles to deal with. “Duchess, I wasn’t expecting you so late,” exclaimed Saltpeter as he opened the door. Fragrant glared back at the source of this evening's humiliation, as soon as she had finished arranging things with Ancient and the theatre manager she had returned to her office to start working on damage control trying to put her side of the story out to her colleagues before they read about things in tomorrow's newspapers. She had considered sending somepony to get her assistant so she could give him a proper dressing down but after consideration she decided things had gone further than that, Saltpeter’s incompetence was something she could no longer tolerate. Heads needed to roll. “May I come in?” she asked icily. “Oh, um, of course,” said Saltpeter her brow furrowing as he stepped aside. Fragrant strode forwards into the house. It was of a decent size and placed in one of the cities nicer sections on the fourth ring. Most of Saltpeter’s neighbours were probably highly ranked civil servants and maybe the odd lesser celebrity or nobles. Max’s house wasn’t actually that far away from here, mused Fragrant, maybe she should visit to make she he was alright. She shook her head, she needed to keep her mind on the current business. The inside of the building was fairly sparsely furnished with only a few bookshelves and cloud furniture to fill the space. A pair of colts heads were sticking up over the back of a chair watching her with interest. “Um, Quicksilver is out with some friends at the moment, so me and the colts are having a guy’s night in. If you’d like something to drink I’m sure I could-” “I think we need to talk in private,” she said cutting off her assistant. She dragged her gaze from the foals, their presence would not make things easier. “Right, um, Coal look after your brother for a bit,” ordered Saltpeter, “I need to talk with the duchess.” The older of the two colts looked like he was going to argue for a moment then nodded before pulling the smaller child down into the chair. “We can talk in my office,” he offered gesturing towards a nearby door. She nodded and followed the servant into a small room with walls covered by various weather maps. “Now what can I-” began Saltpeter. “I was humiliated today! Humiliated!” growled Fragrant not letting him finish. “What, what happened?” asked Saltpeter glancing around nervously. “The opera, the one I asked you to keep an eye on, turned out to be borderline tribalist! The audience almost rioted! My guest was upset, very upset! The whole thing made me look - made me look,” she tried to keep a grip on her anger, “It has ruined my reputation, and it. Is. All. Your. Fault!” She punctuated each word with a stamp. Saltpeter stepped back almost colliding with the desk. “What! I didn’t, I didn’t see, I didn’t think,” he stuttered. “What? Did you watch a different play at the rehearsals? Did you not see a problem with earth ponies being portrayed as dirty savages and unicorns as greedy treacherous cowards!” “No, no, of course not, it’s just,” he seemed to collapse into himself for a moment, “I didn’t see the rehearsal, not all of it, not much really.” “You didn’t see it!” exclaimed Fragrant. “No, I didn’t. I don’t know much about operas, I was busy trying to catch up with other work. I just didn’t have the time. I gave the production a once over and thought it would be fine.” “You were negligent in your duties,” accused Fragrant. “No! It’s just there’s so much to do and it’s so different to what I’m used to. I’m sure things can be sorted out somehow, I’ll do everything I can!” Saltpeter held out his hooves. “No,” Fragrant shook her head, “there is nothing that you can do to fix this. I need to let you go.” Saltpeter’s eyes widened in shock. “You can’t! I need this job, I’ve just bought this place, moved to Canterlot. The kids!” “I am sorry,” said Fragrant her tone softening slightly, Saltpeter might be incompetent but his family didn’t need to suffer for this. Still she couldn’t let him stay on in her service after this, she need to make it clear to the press that the one responsible for the opera going ahead had been punished. “I will pay you what you are due, but after this debacle any references will not be good.” “No please! Can’t I go back to the regional office? I’m good at weather work, really good. But the only way up was to your personal office and things are so different there. I know weather, not opera! Not politics! Give me another chance I’m sure I can do better!” Saltpeter had almost fallen to his knees as he pleaded to her. “No,” she had to remain strong on this, “if you did not think you could do the job you should not have applied for the position, and you have already had several months to get used to your role. You are fired!” For a moment a look of rage flashed over Saltpeters face and Fragrant was scared that he might strike her, but then it all seemed to drain out of him and he slumped back onto the desk. Tears started to gather in his eyes before he wiped them away. “I, I understand Duchess, I’m, I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused you.” “Yes, well,” Fragrant didn’t feel as satisfied as she thought she would have. “I wish things could have gone differently, but you have left me no choice.” “Yes. Could you, could you not tell my foals? I need time to sort out how to break the news to them.” Fragrant nodded, she could allow that mercy at least. “Of course. I should be going.” She still had a lot to do before she could return to her home. Saltpeter shambled towards the door and took a deep breath before putting a fake smile on his face and opening it. Two curious heads stuck up above the chair. Fragrant hoped that they had not been listening at the door. “It’s been good talking to you Duchess,” said Saltpeter his voice barely level. “Of course. I have to go now,” she said holding out a hoof which her ex-assistant shook weakly. She nodded briefly to the foals and made her way out of the house. Once it had been closed she slumped against the door, feeling the last of her anger slip away from her. This whole thing was such a mess. Why couldn’t she have just have had a nice night out with Max? Why did things have to end up so wrong? She sighed, she just hoped she’d made the right decision about the situation.