//------------------------------//
// Chapter 24 
// Story: The Perilous Gestation of Swans 
// by kudzuhaiku 
//------------------------------//

The shower was a steady stream of heat and comfort that came from all angles. He stood beside Celestia, mindful of her wings and how she flapped them. The sun would rise soon, the day would begin, but for now, they had this moment alone. Sure, later in the day, they’d be tired, in need of sleep, but this moment, as it was right now, was glorious. 
 
“Luna really needs to take on a student,” Celestia remarked as she stood with her eyes closed and her face held close to one of the many showerheads. “It is the way of things. Moon Rose would be ideal, I think, but Luna needs to be well enough to do the job.” 
 
“Mmm hmm.” Gosling nodded, and was slapped by one wet wing. He didn’t mind. 
 
A bottle was squeezed, making a flatulent sound, and Gosling jumped when something ice cold squirted over his spine. The scent of citrus filled the air—a strong, acrid smell—and something that was almost, but not quite, strawberries. He heard a laugh from the mare beside him, and then she too, began to prance around while she squirted cold soap over her back. 
 
“What about you?” Gosling asked. 
 
“What about me?” 
 
“When are you going to take on a new student? Twilight Sparkle’s replacement?” 
 
“Oh, you silly pegasus, I have a student.” 
 
“You do?” 
 
“I do.” 
 
“You been holding out on me?” 
 
No response, just a giggle, and he felt the soap being massaged into his back. 
 
“So who is your student?” 
 
“You, silly.” 
 
“Me?” 
 
“Yes, you..” 
 
This was surprising. “I was not made aware that I was to be your student.” 
 
“I am teaching you how to be my husband. How to rule. How to govern. How to be my most trusted associate, so I can leave you in charge when I have to go and deal with crises that are difficult for you little ponies to even comprehend.” 
 
“I see.”
 
“No you don’t.” 
 
“Okay, maybe I don’t.” 
 
“When I had Twilight Sparkle, I had a second student.” 
 
“You did?” 
 
“I did.” 
 
Now, frothy lather ran down Gosling’s ribs, down his legs, and foamed along his belly. 
 
“Shining Armor was my other student. But he didn’t know it. He was my secret student for many years. And when I saw an opportunity, I started training him to be Cadance’s husband, so he could rule, so he could govern, so he could be Cadance’s most trusted associate when she and I have to deal with crises that you little ponies have great difficulty comprehending.” 
 
“You play a long game—” 
 
“Yes, I do.” Celestia’s words were firm, confident, and somehow commanding. 
 
“This makes sense. If you can’t trust your husband, who can you trust?” Gosling nodded his head, and rubbed his naked, featherless wings against his sides, lathering them up so they too, could get clean. “I guess this ties in with Luna, too. It is easier to have one pony that you trust for both you and your sister. Smaller numbers being more secure, and all that. I’ve proven that I can be trusted.” 
 
“Exactly.” Celestia began humming while she scrubbed herself, and it was the sound of morning itself. Turning about, she hiked up the now loose strands of her tail, and allowed a well-placed showerhead to spray water where the sun did in fact, shine. 
 
“I worry a lot… about our trust,” Gosling confessed, and he thought about how he had smooched Luna not all that long ago. “I worry about it the most when I am giving you the business—” 
 
“How romantic!” 
 
“No, really, I do.” Gosling’s voice quieted a bit, dropping in volume when he continued. “I always worry that I’ll be too eager. That I’ll be too rough. I worry that I might hurt you, somehow—” 
 
“Or disappoint me, or let me down, or any number of other dreadful things you can think of?” Frowning a bit, Celestia reached out both wings and began to shape suds around Gosling's muzzle. After a moment, she clucked her tongue, and said, “There, the beard makes you look wiser. I like this look on you.” 
 
“Celestia, I’m sorry, but there will always be a part of my mind that thinks of you as my princess, and that part of my mind will always worry.” He felt his stomach tighten from a strange mix of arousal, tension, and worry. The sudsy beard upon his face began to slip down the drain a few bubbles at a time, and he looked up at the big mare beside him in the shower. 
 
“And I always worry about disappointing my husband… about letting him down. I worry about being too tired, too exhausted to be enthusiastic, and I constantly fret that one day, he might notice, and he might think, ‘she doesn’t want me any more.’ And I live in fear of that day, that we might grow distant. I too, have fears and worries, Gosling, and I hope you never forget that.”
 
“Worries.” Gosling didn’t know what else to say, and his lone word hung there, like a suspended brick, waiting to fall. 
 
“Now, Gosling, your teacher wishes to see you after class…” 
 


 
 
Gosling saw the strangest chariot ever. It was little more than a frame, a skeleton, and the wheels had rubber tires on them. It was still being assembled by a unicorn under Purple Party’s command, and Beans watched with great interest. The chariot was designed for indoor racing inside of a hippodrome. It was made for speed, for maneuverability, and the rubber tires would keep the floors from getting damaged. The only real concern were skidmarks. 
 
But skidmarks were always a concern for ponies.
 
How and why Purple Party had access to hippodrome racing chariots was unknown, and Gosling didn’t ask. He stood nearby, rubbing his chin, and wearing the non-Euclopean sweater that Luna had knitted for him. A passing observer might see him and think him unhinged, and they would be correct, for the most part. The morning report had been stressful, and Gosling was looking forward to blowing off some steam. 
 
“‘At’ll stretch yer legs,” Toast said to her brother with a nod. She was holding up a special black rubber racing shoe that slipped over the hoof, something designed to keep traction on smooth floors. “Nopony told me that wearing rubbers would be part of the job.” 
 
Several of the gathered ponies began to snicker, including Gosling. 
 
“I think my associate is almost finished. While it is quite unorthodox, I do believe this method will allow us to get everything done in the time that we have. All that is left to do now is a test drive.” Purple Party reached up with his foreleg, rubbed at his neck, and nodded. “Yes, I do believe this will work.” 
 
“So, after we do some tests with the first chariot, we’ll construct the others and go all out?” Gosling asked while he watched. 
 
“Correct.” Purple Party gave Gosling a warm, sincere smile. “No sense wasting effort. That said, I am confident that this will produce the desired results.” 
 
“Marm went and changed the configuration of the castle last night,” Beans said while his ears pivoted about. “I can’t even imagine how much of a magical expenditure that must be, or how hungry it would make you—” 
 
Gosling knew exactly how hungry that could make a pony. 
 
“—but now we have a slightly wider central hallway and a few wider servant’s arteries we can work with. It’ll be quite a run, though. Marm has also opened up a few of the bigger halls, so they can be rented out for private parties and such. We’ll have access to a bit of extra coin if we need it, or so I reckon.” 
 
It wouldn’t be long now...
 


 
 
Princess Celestia sat on a cushion, surrounded by quite a number of curious, inquisitive little foals. Today, this class might prove to be exciting, or it might be a total dud, for today was the day that Blueblood tried his hoof at teaching. She had been looking forwards to this day for quite some time, and she hoped that Blueblood had also had some excitement for what this day might bring. Since retiring from many of his public duties, Blueblood had taken up other roles—many of which couldn’t be mentioned in an official capacity—and at her insistence, he was willing to try teaching as well. 
 
He appeared to be quite calm, but Celestia knew him. She had almost raised him after all, and she could read him like a book—sometimes. Poor Blueblood was in an unfamiliar environment with ponies—foals—that he had no intelligence files about, and no real means of control or manipulation. But he was doing fine, and she did her best to keep the amused expression off of her face, knowing full well that it would serve as a distraction. 
 
“Who can tell me what civilisation is?” Blueblood asked, starting the class with a question. 
 
Always a good start, in Celestia’s opinion. Engage them with a question. 
 
“Equestria?” one timid little colt answered. 
 
Blueblood’s expression was one of gentle patience, and Celestia heaved a sigh of relief. Today, his grating, sarcastic persona was stashed in a closet, and the Blueblood that she adored, that she treasured, the Blueblood that was one of the crown jewels in her empire, he was running the class. Everything was going splendidly. In a civics class, Blueblood was fit to be king, and there was nopony that Celestia could think of that knew more about civil policy than Blueblood. Of course, it remains to be seen if he could be a good teacher. 
 
“Equestria is a civilisation, one of many.” Blueblood’s voice was just loud enough, but not too loud, little foals spooked without much effort, and were even more prone to doing so when nervous or uncertain. “But what is a civilisation, and how does it come to be?” 
 
Her eyes darted around the room, watching as many little ears perked, and Celestia had high hopes. There were many blank backsides in this room, territory just waiting to be staked out, claimed, and she hoped for at least a few cutie marks. The room was ripe with promise, pregnant with it, and she could feel the magic that gave destinies a nudge already at work. 
 
When nopony answered, Blueblood began his lecture. 
 
“Civilisation is a freshly plowed field where there once used to be brambles, marsh, and rampaging monsters. It is a safe road, stretching from said field to marketplace, free of peril. Civilisation is the warm light that shines from a farmhouse window, pushing back the darkness. Civilisation is what springs up around these farms, and the complicated relationships that form because they exist.” 
 
“Like marriage? That kind of relationship?” A little filly spoke without raising her hoof.
 
“Very much like that,” Blueblood responded, “but so much more. Social contracts are a special kind of relationship, and the very foundation of civilisation. But rather than just tell you a meaningless blurb about social contracts, I am going to teach you about the one you are living in. Does that sound good?” 
 
Many little heads nodded, and Celestia was pleased. 
 
“Ponyville is a cradle of civilisation. Now, many might consider it backward, provincial, with its thatched roofs and plaster and beam construction. But Canterlot exists because of cities like Ponyville… and without Ponyville and places like it, our beautiful city, our shining jewel, it would go dark and civilisation would die out here.” 
 
“How?” a colt asked. “Princess Celestia keeps us safe here.” 
 
“Ah, Princess Celestia keeps us safe by keeping what keeps us alive safe.” Blueblood chuckled for a moment, his eyes were merry, and he was now quite animated, excited even. “Canterlot is a city of wizards, of merchants, soldiers, craftsponies, politicians, bureaucrats, and the like, and we all have one thing in common. Anypony care to make a guess as to what that is?” 
 
“We’re ponies?” a filly replied. 
 
“Well, beyond that.” Blueblood’s smile brightened. 
 
“We all live up here,” the same filly said, “and they live down there?” 
 
“None of us produce much in the way of food,” Blueblood said, his words warm, gentle, and engaging. “All of us who live in Canterlot are part of an evolved social class that can only exist in an advanced state of civilisation. Our farmers live in a comfortable, safe environment, one with stability, which lets them produce extra food. Every great thing we do begins and ends with the farmers who serve as the foundation of our great empire. We live in a time of unparalleled bounty, but this wasn’t always the case.” 
 
Celestia remembered those lean days all too well, and her stomach gurgled, causing one foal to turn and stare with wide-eyed astonishment. With a gentle gesture of her wing, she made him turn around and pay attention to the lecture at hoof. 
 
“With the abundance of food and safety, fewer ponies have to work to produce it. This allows some ponies to stop working the land altogether, and they can do other things. Like become wizards, and spend all of their time in study. Large armies can be mustered. Musicians and artists can be sponsored, giving birth to culture. Scholars are free to spend time in research, so that they might find new ways to make our society better.” Blueblood rested his front hooves upon the edge of the desk, leaned forwards, and asked, “Now, who can tell me what our great social order was called?” 
 
“Feudalism,” many voices replied at once. 
 
“Yes, Equestria rose to greatness due to our somewhat unique and rather benevolent feudalism. Canterlot stands as a testament, a monument to our great social contract. Much has changed, but there are still many places that hold to the feudalistic ideal, such as the Unicorn Range, the vast expanse of land to our west, where farmers toil in idyllic agrarian splendour, kept safe under the watchful eye of Canterlot. Places like Lulamoon Hollow exist as local seats of power, where governance takes place and Princess Celestia keeps soldiers garrisoned, so they can be deployed at the first sign of trouble.” 
 
Overall, Celestia was pleased, and this was going far, far better than expected. 
 
“So, what is civilisation?” Blueblood asked. 
 
“Protecting the farmers,” a colt replied, “keeping the lights on in those farmhouses.” 
 
“And how can you do that?” Blueblood’s eyebrow lifted, forming a graceful, perfect arch. 
 
Then, it happened, the moment that Celestia was waiting for, was hoping for. A brilliant golden light flared, distracting all of the class, and the little colt who had answered with protecting the farmers now had his future revealed to him, and to his classmates. Craning her neck, she struggled to see what brilliant, glorious future awaited the colt, and she was just able to see over a filly’s frizzy mane to get a good look. 
 
A set of scales was visible, with a sheaf of wheat on one side, and a pyramid pile of bricks on the other. It was a fine mark for the civic-minded, full of promise, and would allow the colt to embrace any number of great futures. She heaved a sigh that was drowned out by the cheering, the clapping, and the many congratulations. Blueblood had passed his exam, his test as a teacher, and Celestia was relieved. 
 
For Blueblood had managed to inspire…