Equestria : 1940

by Georg

6. Diplomatic Dinner Disaster

“Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.”
— Psalm 23:5

His mind thick with thoughts, Jon barely managed to keep his feet moving while following the gold-clad guard back to his guest room. He paid little attention to the decor of the castle or any undiscovered art treasures while considering his problem and the stubborn lack of solutions that it entailed. After all, if somepony needed to have friends in order to use the Elements of Harmony as Celestia had said, Twilight Sparkle was the squarest peg ever to be picked for that round hole, and he could see no possible way to round her corners.

“Here we go, sir.” The escorting guard’s voice was smooth as black silk and vaguely familiar, but Jon put it to one side for the moment. He intended on setting his watch for the twelfth time at least by using the clock in his room, which would have been perfectly fine if his room did not already have a four-legged occupant who drew his attention.

The pegasus was most certainly not Nightshade, because this one was slightly smaller and wearing an elaborate cloak drawn over her wings. She was obviously a batpony of some sort, due to the furry ears and general body shape. He could not see her eyes because she was fussing over his suit jacket which was stretched out over a bedside table along with his dress shoes and shirt.

“Ah, here you are, Mister Walthers,” stated the mare in clipped tones but without looking back at him. “Go bathe, and I’ll have your suit ready when you get out of the bathroom.”

“Uh…” Jon was temporarily set back by the servant’s directness, but saw nothing wrong with following her advice, particularly after a glance at the grandfather clock in the room showed the fairly large amount of time he had before the dinner reception was to start.

The bathtub was already about half-full of warm water and his shaving kit was laid out on the bathroom sink shelf, so Jon slipped out of his tweed suit and made himself uncomfortably comfortable in the tub, squatting down and trying to get everything soaped and rinsed without splashing any water on the floor. It was at least more comfortable than the hotel he had once stayed at in Cyprus, while the rest of the opulent decor made up for the uncomfortable bathing options and then some. He had finished toweling off and was touching up his stubbly chin with a safety razor when Jon realized something was missing. After splashing away the remainder of his shaving, Jon took another look around the bathroom, then wrapped a towel around his naked middle and poked his head out of the doorway.

“Excuse me, Miss? Have you seen my clothes? They were right in here, next to—”

“I sent them out to be cleaned,” said the dark pegasus from between clenched teeth from where she was running a needle down an inner seam of his formal black suit. “They stunk like popcorn.”

“How did you get in…” Jon considered the mare’s look of intense concentration and decided that knowing just how she slipped into the bathroom and removed his discarded clothing was a question that would wait for another opportunity. He shuffled out of the bathroom, dressed in his towel and nothing else, before retrieving a pair of underwear and retreating.

A few moments later, he crept out of the bathroom and retrieved his dark suit pants also.

“Can’t believe the incompetent human you had for a tailor.” The dark pegasus was named Laminia, and had been complaining under her breath ever since Jon emerged from the bathroom, with pants, to be dressed and ‘adjusted’ for the formal dinner this evening. “Your mane could use a trim too, but I suppose there’s no helping it. Covering it with a hat would help but the dinner is indoors, so…”

The pegasus prodded Jon in the belly with the tip of one sharp hoof before tugging the cummerbund tighter. “You’ve got no waist to hold this up,” she grumbled. “Thank heaven for braces or your dress pants would fall off.”

“I thought thin was supposed to be—” Jon cut off with a sharp ‘oof!’ when the pegasus gave his cummerbund one last tug and bent over to tie it, which was one of the things ponies could do by mouth that had constantly confounded him. Unfortunately, she was tying it behind his back, but fortunately it allowed him a quick glance under her cloak at the wings she had been hiding.

They were dark membranes much like Nightshade’s wings, tucked up on her sides with long thin stripes across them running lengthwise in short dashes and little white dots. The scars seemed puzzling at first, like some sort of tattoo or claw wounds, but there did not seem to be a pattern to them at first glance. He had to admit to staring, which was only for a short time before Laminia turned around with a brisk whirl and yanked her cloak back over her exposed wings.

“Well,” she snapped with a tone just short of a snarl. “Go ahead.”

“Go ahead and what?” Jon was abruptly aware of the sharp teeth that seemed just instants from burying themselves in anything vulnerable or tender that Laminia was in reach to bite. Thankfully, she laid her ears back and glared instead.

“Call me a cripple. Laugh at me.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what you humans do to freaks,” she spat.

Still a little rattled at the batpony’s rapid shift in personality, Jon was speechless for a tense moment until he remembered why Twilight Sparkle would not let her dragon watch certain movies any more. In particular, there was a movie that they most certainly had not seen, and he suddenly realized must have been where this pony was picking up her distorted sense of human morals. “Oh. That movie.”

“Partially.” The mare seemed to calm down slightly, and the dangerous glint in her eyes receded. “It’s a birth defect, not something to laugh at.”

“I wasn’t about to laugh,” admitted Jon. “In fact, I hadn’t seen any batponies… you don’t mind if I call you a batpony, do you?” At the mare’s short shake of her head, he continued. “Anyway, I hadn’t seen any of your kind of pony until… um… yesterday.” It seemed like such a short time to have undergone such a vivid transformation in the way he viewed the world. “Your bigger brothers certainly seem protective,” he added. “The Dragonlord almost snorted me up his nose.”

Laminia snorted, coughing for a brief while until she regained her composure although she seemed to be intensely embarrassed at her loss of control. “Oh. I just thought… Nevermind.”

“Do you mind if I see them?” blurted out Jon. “I promise, I won’t touch them unless you give me permission.”

“They’re sensitive.” Laminia looked in the direction of the front door of the suite as if she were considering fleeing, then shuffled her wings under her cloak. It made them look a little as if they were some sort of living creature under a blanket before she allowed the stubbed-off end of one wing to stick out into the light.

On close examination, it was obvious that the wing had been operated on at least several times, with sections of the thin membranes stretched to cover areas they had not covered before, and the very tip of the wing amputated. Little trails of white dots showed the organic stitches that had been removed, neat and tidy lines just as precise as the stitching she had done on the loose seam inside his jacket. With her permission, he stretched the wing out and let it curl back several times, being very careful not to extend it further than it should go. It took several minutes of close examination to trace the surgical incisions and compare it to the other wing which was smooth and unmarred.

“They’re very beautiful wings,” he said. “Both of them.”

“I can’t fly yet.” Laminia stretched out her injured wing and held it open with little tremors of strain rippling down the white scars. “I’ve been done with surgery for several years, but I’m not getting any stronger, and… I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” With a wince and a snap of her wings, she tucked them under her cloak again.

“I don’t think you’re a freak,” said Jon. “Freaks was only a movie. In real life, humans are… well, they’re not like movies. I mean, look at me. I’m short, hate talking to other humans, and only really unwind when I’m around ponies.”

“Yeah, you’re weird.” Laminia turned back to the remaining clothes in his suitcases and pulled his shoes out. “Look, you should skip the gloves for tonight. I mean, you brought kidskin? Really? Leather shoes should be acceptable, since it makes you look a little more minotaur-like, but skip the spats because you’ll get at least one hoof… I mean foot stepped on tonight, and the spat would just come loose.”

“That sounds reasonable.” Jon stuck his foot out and let the pony wedge it into the shoe. “I’m sorry for trying to peek under your cloak just now.”

“S’okay.” Somehow, Laminia managed to talk while using her lips and teeth to tie his shoe securely. “M’bad anyway. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. You’re a guest, and I’m crip’led pony run awa’fm home.”

“So…” He stuck out his other foot. “You left home and traveled to Canterlot to get the surgery to fix your wing?”

“N’t quite.” Laminia gave a solid tug to his laces, enough to make his toes hurt. “Ran away as a foal. Celes’a found me. Gave me a job. A home. Family. Paid the surgeon.”

There was something else that Jon was suspecting. The word ‘Celestia’ was a clue. “You don’t have many friends, do you?”

“Don’t need ‘em.” Laminia spat on one of his shoes and buffed out a scuff.

“She assigned you to me, right? Celestia, that is. I’m starting to recognize her hoof in things.”

“Yes, sir.” Laminia straightened up and gave Jon a long look, from top to bottom. “Will that be all, sir?”

“Actually… no.” Jon stretched out, flexing his arms and checking to make sure none of his suit pinched anywhere it should not have, then glanced at the grandfather clock at the other side of the suite. “You see, if that clock isn’t as wrong as the rest of them, I’m ahead of schedule by an hour, at least.”

All of the alert impassiveness vanished from the batpony mare, replaced by narrowed eyes and a sudden clamping of her tail to her rear. “It would be a shame to get blood all over your good suit,” she growled from between clenched sharp teeth.

“Not that,” said Jon quickly. “I mean, the castle certainly seems to be a fascinating place, and Twilight Sparkle showed me some of it already. Well, the libraries, at least. Since Twilight Sparkle is currently busy researching, what I would like is somepony else to show me around until the reception is about to start.”

“Oh.” Laminia’s tail lifted back to its normal altitude and she put on a polite but forced smile. “I’ll have the guards summon a guide for you.”

“Actually, I was hoping you would escort… I mean accompany me.” Jon stuck out an elbow, which after a moment of hesitation, he realized was a useless gesture for walking alongside an Equestrian. His inexperience made the situation more awkward, but after walking to the suite door and holding it open for the mare, Laminia gave him an odd look.

“You’re weird. You know that, right?”

Jon shrugged. “A few days ago, I thought I was normal. I think I’m learning more about myself as a teacher than I did in years of being a student.”

“Good evening, Doctor Walthers.” Celestia cast a casual glance around the reception room, which Jon was quite certain was a gesture strictly for his benefit, because she most probably knew everything about everypony or person in the reception down to their birthday, shoe size, and favorite beverage.

“I don’t see Twilight either, Your Highness.” Jon let his gaze wander around the room, taking in the sight of so many different races of Equestria, including two minotaurs and a half-dozen griffons of various sizes. It reminded him uncomfortably of a zoo with servants passing among the visitors and only one bipedal animal on display. The snacks were good, however.

Celestia did not seem to share Jon’s obvious concern about Twilight Sparkle or underlying worry about Nightmare Moon. She had been strolling among the diplomats with a quiet smile and word of welcome for each of them, dressed in nothing more than her crown and shoulder-thing instead of a sweltering suit like Jon was trapped inside. The rest of the diplomats were likewise scarcely dressed, with the griffon ambassador wearing an elaborate collection of golden rings on various body parts, and the minotaur seeming content to carry only a huge double-bitted axe slung over his back, which Jon had to admit was practical apparel. There was only one dragon, of course, and a smattering of other creatures including a sphinx, which he had been assured was perfectly harmless unless provoked.

Of course, nopony had defined just exactly what provoked a sphinx.

“Do not worry about my student,” said Celestia, looking back in the direction of the entryway just as the young unicorn in question made her appearance. “Since she has a tendency to overrule Spike, I sent one of my guards to hurry her along. Nightshade has been most reliable in that regard. I think she has a talent for it.”

The gold-armored guard escorting a reluctant Twilight Sparkle caught Jon’s eye as they strolled across the floor. It was subtle, but if he had not been looking right at Nightshade, he never would have caught the short wink she gave him while not breaking her serious expression in the least. It was still a little disconcerting to see the disguised female pegasus act like that, but nice too, in an odd way, because Jon had never been friendly with such an aggressive female of any species before.

“Hello, Twilight.” Before Princess Celestia could say another word, Twilight Sparkle promptly burst into a quick staccato of Equestrian that Jon could just barely follow. It seemed to be a summary of her upcoming thesis on the violent motifs in the ‘Oz Murderfest’ and how they pointed to humankind’s inherent distrust of all Equestrians, unicorns and others. Celestia listened along for a while, gathering the attention of several nearby ponies and ambassadors who attempted to eavesdrop without the benefit of an eaves to hide behind. It was startling how quickly Twilight Sparkle stopped the moment Celestia opened her mouth to speak, making the resulting word sound deathly loud in the resulting silence.

“No.”

“No?” squeaked Twilight Sparkle, looking very much like a puppy who had just been walloped solidly across the nose by a rolled-up newspaper.

“No, Twilight.” Celestia’s voice was very soft and reassuring, much like a mother addressing a beloved child. “Human beings are many things. They can be cruel, evil, and vindictive, but they can also be noble, faithful and kind. Over the years, I’ve had warm friendships with many human beings. Last year, I traveled to California for a month and met with several of my ponies who work in Hollywood, the seat of what you seem to think is a cesspit of bigotry and hatred. To a pony, they reported how appreciated their work was, and how many friends they had made. Human friends.”

“But—”

Celestia cut her student off with a single disapproving glance. “No, Twilight. This topic is closed. I am most displeased with the way you ducked out on the art tour this afternoon rather than spend time with the human teacher I brought here at great expense and trouble.”

There was just the smallest twitch at the corner of Twilight Sparkle’s left eyelid that signified her stress level, but Jon could see behind her where Spike had nearly frozen up cold and was biting his nails. The rest of the dinner guests were looking in Jon’s direction with various degrees of interest. However, several servants had likewise frozen in place as if they were waiting for an explosion, and one of them was gingerly edging his way behind a nearby decorative pillar.

Celestia continued, “Now, I expect you to remain with Doctor Walthers this evening, Twilight, without slipping away for any reason until I give you permission. There will be no reading under the table, no taking notes, and no excuses. Do you understand?”

Twilight meekly raised one forehoof as if waiting to be called. “Can I turn in my report later—”

“No.” The disapproving look on Celestia’s face briefly turned into a frown. “I expect you to meet with all of the guests, control yourself during dinner, and not turn in that essay at any time in the future.”

“But—” Twilight Sparkle froze again, then slowly lowered her head. “Yes, Princess.”

“Thank you, Ambassador Sharpfeather. It was a pleasure meeting you.” Jon gave a brief bow and shook the offered claw, waited until Twilight and Spike had done the same, and then led the mismatched trio away from the griffon ambassador and in the direction of an open space in the middle of the room. “I think that’s all of them,” he whispered down in the direction of the dejected unicorn. “Oh, wait. What about that couple over there?”

“The Duke and Duchess of Maretonia,” said Spike. “You just about toppled over the duchess when you tried to kiss her hoof.”

“Well, it’s better than getting my butt sniffed,” replied Jon. “I don’t think Ambassador Roav’errrr quite understands the ceremonial aspect of that.”

Spike giggled. “You said aspect.”

Twilight squelched the young dragon with a single scathing glance. “Spike, go into the banquet hall and make certain our place settings are correct. We’re supposed to be sitting between Ambassador Sharpfeather and Princess Celestia. Go on.” She waited until the dragon had left the room before turning back to Jon, who she had not been out of arm’s reach of since Celestia’s pronouncement. “Can we go over here, please?”

“Certainly.” Jon followed along, resisting the urge to put one hand on her neck as he had done with Nightshade when she was guiding him. From the tremor running up and down Twilight Sparkle’s neck, she was tight enough to be used as fiddle strings, like Jon’s uncle used to say. He followed her out into the hallway, then made a sharp turn into another room that looked familiar, but took a few moments for his mind to translate the room into its human equivalent.

It was a fairly small room, with a female earth pony attendant standing near the sinks and two concealed stalls, one of which Twilight Sparkle paused outside of and looked back over her shoulder. “Do you think she wanted you to come inside—”

“No,” said Jon, abruptly realizing he was standing in the bathroom, and worse, the mare’s room. He stood quietly while Twilight vanished into one of the stalls, then he eyed the earth pony servant who held a towel over one bent foreleg. After a few moments of awkward mutual looks, the sound of urine hitting the water could be heard, and Jon quickly spoke up in order to cover the unwelcome sound. “So, Miss. This… isn’t awkward, is it?”

“No, sir.” The mare gave him a long look and added, “If you need to use the facilities, there is another stall available.”

“No.” Jon smiled in a vain attempt at levity. “I’m fine.”

The sound of the door opening behind him made Jon turn, only to see Princess Celestia moving into the small room, calling out, “Twilight, are you in— Oh!” She stopped directly in front of Jon with a befuddled wide-eyed blink, showing what had to have been the first honest expression she displayed since the moment he met her.

“Now, this is awkward,” said the attendant in a flat drawl.

“I think I need to use the men’s room after all,” said Jon rapidly as he squeezed past the round bulk of Celestia and darted out into the hallway.

Diplomacy came easily to Jon during the meal, although with as much eating as he was doing during his trip so far, he would probably need a new suit by the end of the week. Twilight Sparkle, true to her word, remained right by his side for the rest of the night, through toasts and cocktails, quiet conversations about nothing with the diplomats, and even the post-meal mingling until they were gently escorted out of the room by Celestia. If it were not for her divine intervention, Jon felt the diplomats would be more than happy to fill his ears with tales of Equestrian minutia until the sun rose. Or Celestia raised it, which Jon was actually starting to believe.

“Twilight, please take Spike and head off to bed. I want a few words alone with Doctor Walthers.” With a single brush of her huge white wing, Celestia hustled Twilight Sparkle down the corridor, turning to the lone remaining human once the tapping sounds of the unicorn’s hooves on the castle tile floors had faded to inaudibility. “And for you, Doctor Walthers…”

Jon waved his hands dismissively. “Twilight jumped to a conclusion and I didn’t have the heart to correct her. It’ll be quite a few years before I can earn a doctorate in anything.”

“You forget, I run a school, Doctor Walthers.” Celestia eyed him with something between impending mischief and regret. “So. What do you think of my student, so far?”

“She’s… brilliant, of course,” started Jon. “Curious. Eager. Obedient. A little too much of everything at times, I suppose.”

“Friendly?” asked Celestia.

“Uh… No.” Jon really wanted to be a pegasus so he could hide his head under one wing. “I don’t see how she can make friends,” he said rapidly. “She’s going to scare away anypony who is attracted to her, or hide from them, or maybe both.”

Ever so slowly, Celestia nodded. “I see. Well, you have several more days.”

“Weeks or months, I don’t think it would matter.” Jon let out his breath in a short huff.

“Trust in Harmony, Mister Walthers.” Celestia caught his eyes and managed a small, knowing smile. “And now, since we are several hours into your sabbath, I think it wise if you retire for the evening too.” Whatever invisible motion Celestia used was very effective, because a gold-clad pegasus guard came around a corner of the corridor a moment later and began trotting his way to them.

“Yes, Your Highness.” Jon caught himself in a short bow, straightening up and looking her right in the eyes. “I’m sorry, Princess Celestia.”

The echoes of his words followed him all the way back to his room and into slumber.