//------------------------------// // Chapter 12 // Story: The Perilous Gestation of Swans // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// For most ponies, their work day would be winding down, nearing its end, and all that would be left would be the final slog. Gosling was not most ponies. His work day began when he woke up, and came to an end when he closed his eyes to go to sleep. This was the brutal schedule of everypony in the royal family. There was always something that needed to be done for their beloved country. Kibitz, who walked beside him, began to read from the planner. “Princess Celestia wants you to spend more time with Moon Rose and her parents. She feels that a certain level of trust needs to be inspired and she believes that you are good for the, how shall we say, ‘asset program.’ I am inclined to agree, Your Majesty.” “Kibitz, we’ve been over this, don’t call me that.” Gosling gave the pony beside him his best goofy grin in an attempt to destroy Kibitz’s composure. “Very well, Sire.” Kibitz returned Gosling’s smile and added, “I see you’ve been practicing your best birth control smile, Sire. Should you desire to be foal free in the future, I believe your current expression will be adequate.” “Yous is a funny pony, aren’t yous, Kibitz?” After a moment, Gosling continued, “I hate thinking of them as assets, but what else are they? The Crown would be irresponsible if it didn’t keep track of exceptionally gifted individuals and we’ve already seen what happens if one slips through unnoticed.” “Indeed we have, socially-minded Sir Gosling.” Kibitz gave Gosling a good-natured smile and then returned his attention to the day planner. “Starlight Glimmer, Sir. Proof that one gifted foal, if left unattended, can bring down a nation. Our nation, in this particular instance. Princess Celestia is wise indeed to apply your charm and wit within the asset program.” “You really think so, Kibitz?” “I do,” he replied, “along with charm and wit, you bring a certain… how shall we say… sincerity. A certain earnestness. You have an honest and sincere desire to look after the individual because you care about their well being, and not about what they might possess that makes them an asset.” Touched, Gosling nodded and pulled his cloak tight around him. “Thank you, Kibitz.” “Don’t mention it, Gosling.” Kibitz sighed, rolled his eyes, and then looked at Gosling once more. “Sir, Mister Purple Party begs to see you. I just remembered it. Do you think you can spare a few moments? I am almost certain he wishes to apologise and we have a priority to maintain good relations with the castle staff.” “Yeah, I’ll do the right thing,” Gosling responded, and his ears splayed out sideways. “Good. Remember, Sir… one good deed can be the salvation of a nation.” “Yeah, hey, no pressure, right, Kibitz? No pressure at all. Ugh.” Gosling reminded himself that one irked pony was an asset for the Ascendancy, or a wagging tongue for the press. There was, indeed, a mess here in need of a clean-up. “You’ll find Mister Purple Party in the north wing retreat lounge.” “Okay, I’ll go meet him there,” Gosling replied with a nod. “Little Miss Moon Rose is in the north wing diplomat’s parlour.” “Right.” “Sir, one last thing.” “What’s that, Kibitz?” “Your heart, Sir…” “Yeah?” “Is in the right place. That is all.” The retreat lounge was a small secluded hideaway, a place to go when pressures or stress became overwhelming and one needed a quiet moment. It was a small, cosy place, and the one in the north wing was Gosling’s favourite. He considered it his. Celestia favoured the west wing retreat lounge, Luna was rather fond of the east, and the south retreat lounge was just a few doors away from Blueblood’s study. The south retreat lounge was pretty much a liquor storage closet that stank of depravity and sadomasochism. Guards saluted as he passed, and Gosling gave them a nod of acknowledgement, not wishing to reveal his wings in their current state. It was cold and drafty in the castle, there were a lot of spaces that were not heated, it was impossible to heat a space this large. Without his feathers, Gosling had no natural protection from the cold, which left him miserable. The door was ajar and Gosling did not slow as he approached. His fatigue, such as it was, he kept that from showing. If he was going to deal with this pompous prick, perhaps it was time to take a page from Blueblood’s playbook and play cutthroat. Or maybe follow Luna’s example… he could be cold, imperious, and mysterious if he had to be. Or perhaps, following Celestia’s example might be wise, and he could be— “Confessor…” Gosling’s entire train of thought derailed and he froze just inside the door. Purple Party didn’t look so good and even though Gosling was more than a little peeved with the unicorn at the moment, he felt a pang of sympathy. There was also the matter of being called ‘Confessor,’ as that title carried certain connotations and expectations. “Confessor, I have erred,” Purple Party said in a low, phlegmy voice. At that moment, Gosling knew that he didn’t have the luxury of being anything other than himself. All of the thoughts about the different ways to approach this situation just fizzled out and he stood there, looking rather dull and vacant. After the train crash, Gosling’s brain scrambled to recover and regain his noble bearing. “I can’t offer any excuses, only an explanation,” Purple Party said to Gosling with his head bowed down low. “I was used to a certain level of autonomy… like the Head Maid or the Head Butler. I have done this job for years with nopony to answer to.” The distraught unicorn drew in a shaky, shuddering breath, blinked a few times, and bowed his head a little lower. “Go on.” Gosling’s own breathing was shallow and he struggled to keep his own emotions in check. “When I found out that you were placed in charge of the castle staff, above me, I began to worry a bit, but I told myself that you were just a pony in need of something to do, some responsibility for your new position. I convinced myself that not much would change. But when you started giving me orders… I began to resent you.” “I see.” Gosling, recovering a bit, began to study Purple Party, looking for any evident tells, and his own face was now a blank mask of authority. “I convinced myself that you had no idea what you were doing, and I chose to defer to my own many years of experience.” Purple Party swallowed, looked Gosling in the eye for several agonising seconds, and then, turning away, he closed his eyes. “Confessor, as a pony of the First Tribe, I held onto my biases and my beliefs… I let them interfere with my job, and for this, I am truly sorry. I beg forgiveness… not just as your employee, but also as your devotee, Confessor.” This was now wide open sky, an unknown and scary place for Gosling. These were unknown horizons, new territory, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do. He was still learning, still training for this, he was still getting instruction from older, wiser sorts that knew everything there was to know about this. The fear was almost paralysing. “The shunning,” Purple Party said in a low voice that began to gain volume. “It can be hard to go against the very thing that you were raised from birth to believe in… I made a very foolish choice and I regret it!” “I understand.” Gosling’s own emotions became a confusing jumble and he didn’t know what else to do or say. Even worse, he didn’t understand the rules. He was a pegasus, and Purple Party was a unicorn. He was the Confessor for the Pegasus tribe, but Purple Party was approaching him as a devotee. The inter-tribal moment of faith became a jumble of intense confusion, a real tangle of a mess that Gosling didn’t know how to sort out. “Confessor, I request a chance to atone for my slights, and to earn forgiveness for my sins. I beg of you, give me a chance. I am willing to resign if that is necessary, I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I am sincere.” “I will not accept your resignation.” Gosling’s own words surprised him, and he stood there, blinking a few times, trying to figure out what had just come out of his own mouth. The tongue was a wicked organ, full of betrayal, deceit, and lies, or so his mother had said many, many times when he was growing up. “Confessor?” “No,” Gosling said, still amazed at his own mouth. “There is no way that you are getting off that easy. There will be no resignation, no running away from the problem.” Purple Party lifted his head, looked Gosling in the eye, and then just stood there, confused. Squinting, Gosling peered into Purple Party’s eyes with great intensity, as if he was trying to look into the unicorn’s soul. The regret was real, Gosling could sense it, and his own senses—his pegasus observation powers—told him that he would find no resistance in Purple Party. Gosling set his mind to work, trying to find a means of restitution that was fair, just, and clever, or maybe just fairly clever. “This position that has been bestowed upon me, being head of castle staff, I’m supposed to learn responsibility from it. I have free rein to do whatever I feel is necessary, and I’ve avoided getting involved because honestly, the whole thing is intimidating, scary, and there is just too much to learn, along with everything else that I have to figure out.” Gosling was surprised by his own honesty, and by how good it felt to confess his own shortcomings. His ears pivoted forwards, facing Purple Party, and Gosling continued, “I need to take this responsibility seriously, and to do that, I need to learn how to do this job.” He paused for a moment to think about everything he was saying, and to study Purple Party’s face. “For your lapse in judgment, I am going to promote you, Mister Party, to work as my instructor. You are going to teach me how to do your job. You are going to teach me everything there is to know as the Director of Staff. You will teach me everything about the day to day operations of this place, and all of your many years of experience will be put to good use.” “Confessor?” The purple unicorn looked quite confused. “But,” Gosling added, “as punishment for your misdeed, you will take on all of this new responsibility, but you will not see an increase in pay. You will suffer my hard-headedness and all of my wacky antics.” “Confessor, that seems remarkably fair.” Purple Party gulped and then averted his eyes. “What about the Winter Moon Festival?” “Are you willing to help me?” Gosling asked. “I mean a real, sincere desire to help.” “Confessor, I think that would be a natural starting point to begin your tutelage in staff management.” With a few rapid blinks of his eyelids, Purple Party returned eye-contact with Gosling, and gave him a timid, but hopeful smile. “I should very much like to atone for my failures.” “And I would very much like to be your friend,” Gosling replied. “So, let’s put all of this behind us, do our best to forget about it, and concentrate on doing good work together.” “Thank you, Confessor.” Purple Party bowed his head and let heave a sigh of immeasurable relief. “Go home,” Gosling commanded. “Get some rest. We’ll start tomorrow. Talk to Kibitz about the schedule.” “Right, thank you again, Confessor.” Gosling stepped aside and watched as Purple Party exited the room. The stallion retreated, looking as meek and submissive as possible, and he also looked quite relieved. Sighing, he wondered if he had handled this well, or if he had just made a colossal mistake. Only time would tell. With this arrangement, with this solution, Purple Party’s ego had been appeased and his sense of equinal value had not been diminished. But had he done the right thing? Gosling contemplated this conundrum while standing in the middle of the room, staring at nothing in particular. An even more important question formed in his mind: Would Celestia be happy with this arrangement? He had just mixed faith and secular duties. Had he crossed a line? Broken a rule? Doubt began to gnaw at the back of his mind and he began to second-guess himself. All of this would have to be settled at another time, because for now, he had to look after Moon Rose.