“We need a night light,” Copperquick said to Buttermilk, who sat at the table with him. “When I got up this morning, it was dark, and Esme just about had herself a complete and total freak out. Once I got her into the bathroom with me, she was fine, but I don’t want to tempt fate. You do remember what has happened the last few times there was a freak out…”
Nothing more needed to be said and Buttermilk nodded in reply. Esmeralda’s meltdowns were something to be feared and worried about; this was no mere exaggeration. She was capable of crying for hours at a time, exhausting herself, or worse, dehydrating herself. One particularly nasty freak out resulted in a trip to the hospital, and the overall experience had left quite an impression upon Copperquick. His daughter had issues, developmental issues; this was bad, because his daughter suffered, but also good, because these developmental issues had been diagnosed and determined, meaning that her mother, Cielo del Este—the cause and source of said issues—would have a much harder time getting custody back if it came to that.
“We are a we now, aren’t we?” Buttermilk asked and she paused from gobbling down her malted wheat. “I thought about it, last night after you went to sleep. It is why I made myself preen with you in the room even though I was uncomfortable with it. I laid awake for a while thinking about the fact that I was deeply involved with a stallion that has an infant daughter that calls me ‘Mama’ and I thought of many things that troubled me.”
When Esmeralda burbled, Copperquick’s ears perked, but she seemed content to play with her stuffed toys. At the moment, she was squeezing her stuffed eggplant while babbling at her stuffed carrot… at least, that was what she seemed to be doing. It was hard to tell. Licking his lips, he looked into Buttermilk’s eyes so that he might better understand her mood.
“With as troubled as Esmeralda is, I’ve become involved. Invested. Walking away is something that I simply could not do. It would crush her… and well, you as well, but for Esme in particular, after suffering whatever abuse that happened at the hooves of her mother, and then finally forming a bond with me, if I broke that bond, I would be thoroughly wrecking the life of another pony. She’s already been damaged, but she can heal. But if I was to walk away now, in the middle of her healing process… this kept me awake last night. I couldn’t go to sleep. I just laid there staring up at the ceiling for quite some time.”
“I had a similar moment of awareness one night…” Copperquick found that he could no longer look Buttermilk in the eye, so he stared down into his bowl full of porridge instead. The malted wheat had chocolate in it, raisins, cinnamon, and overall, it was quite a treat. “It was like my brain made the connection, ‘I am now a father.’ And just like that, I couldn’t sleep. I laid awake in a particularly bad state of mind and wondered how badly I was going to mess all of this up. That night, I had a dreadful nightmare of little Esme, all grown up, being locked away in a sanitarium for the mentally disturbed, and it was all my fault.”
And then, as an afterthought, he added, “I can’t even tell if she’s getting better, sometimes, I worry—”
“These things take time, Copper, and I think she’s getting better. You have to be patient.”
“I can’t be patient.” Lifting his head, he looked into the eyes of the pegasus mare sitting across from him. When he started to speak, he found that it was hard to keep his voice down and he had to struggle against his own welling emotions. “This waiting is killing me. I need to know that she is okay now.” Changing the tone and depth of his voice, he began reciting everything that had been said on that horrid day and he mimicked the doctor. “Terribly sorry, Mister Quick, but it seems that your daughter has suffered considerable neglect and emotional abuse. We’re still doing some tests but it seems that your daughter has some developmental disabilities. She clearly suffered some sort of horrible emotional trauma at a moment when she was most vulnerable. Terribly, dreadfully sorry—”
“Copper, stop. Stop now before you get yourself all worked up—”
“I’m already worked up,” he said, spitting out the words in a forceful whisper. “Developmental disabilities, Buttermilk. That’s quite a mouthful, wouldn’t you agree?” When the sting of tears became overwhelming, he stared back down into his bowl, shuddered, and then sat there, almost panting. Thinking back to that day at the Weeping Sister Hospital was unbearable and he could feel a real, physical pain down in his guts.
“You are going to pull yourself together and you are going to hit the books. I am going to look after Emse and do a little butter churning.” Buttermilk’s voice was firm, commanding, but also gentle and full of affection. “Once you are done studying for the day, we’re going to do something nice. Together. I don’t know what just yet.”
“Okay.” Copperquick sighed out the word and his withers slumped as his whole body sagged. “Holding myself together. I can do that, I think.” He took a deep breath, held it for a bit, and then let everything out in a huff. Ears perking, he reminded himself that he was championing the cause of social reform, not just for his own daughter, but for foals and disadvantaged parents everywhere.
This did not stop the shudders, however.
Perhaps he needed his own psychological evaluation.
“Copper!” Buttermilk burst through the back door and into the kitchen in an almost breathless state. “Copper! You have to look at this! You won’t believe what has happened! Look, Copper!” Wings buzzing, she flew into the kitchen with Esmeralda held secure in her foal sling and a warm, balmy breeze flowed through the now open backdoor.
A moment later, Butter Fudge also came through the back door, galloping into the kitchen with a worried look on her face, perhaps because she didn’t know what was going on. Copperquick looked up from his book, rubbed his eyes with his foreleg, and then looked down at the newspaper when Buttermilk tossed it down on the table in front of him.
SCANDAL ROCKS JUDICIAL CIRCUIT!
“Is that—” Copperquick started to say, but he never had a chance to finish.
“Yes, that is the judge that is supposed to be handling your preliminary trial!” Buttermilk was loud, excited, but she wasn’t quite shouting. She landed near Copperquick, stood on the floor, and began poking at the picture of the pony on the front page of the newspaper. “Justice Heavy Gavel, the pony that specialises in family law cases and has championed punitive laws against stallions has been found to have over a dozen illegitimate foals. He slept with mares in exchange for handing out harsher, tougher sentences on wayward fathers and husbands.”
“He’s supposed to be a defender of the common mare,” Butter Fudge said as she stood there, stunned, and clearly in shock. “And the bane of philandering husbands everywhere. How… how could he… how could this happen?” The big mare now stood with her mouth hanging open and it appeared as though she was having trouble even blinking.
Copperquick too, was having trouble taking this in. The hospital bill that he had been stuck with, the so-called punitive measure, that law had been introduced into the legal system because of this judge, this champion of justice. He felt a slap on the back of his head and when he turned Esmeralda clobbered him again, this time catching him on the ear.
Reaching out, he nudged Buttermilk and asked, “Do you… do you think that Yam did this?”
“Probably,” Buttermilk blurted out; then with a worried expression, she shot a meaningful glance in her mother’s direction and by making a stern face, she urged Copperquick to say nothing else. “It’s not just one judge though. The entire judicial system of Canterlot is under investigation and a whole bunch of judges and magistrates just tendered their resignations for reasons unknown. Every single trial for the next year is being delayed or postponed.”
Grunting, Butter Fudge whip-cracked her tail, turned about, and stormed out the back door, her hooves thudding with each strike. Buttermilk’s face fell, as did her ears, and she stared at the spot where her mother had stood. Copperquick could sense that Buttermilk was upset, and he tried to read her face while Esmeralda attempted to pound his skull.
“Oh no… Moomy is a firm believer in the sanctity of the legal system… oh no… I can’t imagine what this must be doing to her.” Buttermilk began to tremble and her eyes misted over. She blinked a few times, drew in a deep breath, and leaned against Copperquick. “Moomy has deep, deep beliefs about cutie marks and what a pony is born to do. She tends to think that those with legal cutie marks have infallible powers of judgment and are moral pillars of a community. She and I have tussled on this issue before and she’s very passionate about what she believes in. Oh dear… poor Moomy.”
“You can’t even become a judge or a magistrate unless you have a clearly defined cutie mark that is specific to legality or justice… I was just learning about the foundations of Equestria’s legal systems just before we left. My civics class… the professor is seen as a radical and is intensely disliked for suggesting that maybe we shouldn’t do this.” Copperquick ducked his head away from Esmeralda’s swinging hooves and then, reaching up with his left front hoof, he began to rub his temple.
Reaching up, Buttermilk pulled Esmeralda out of her sling, gave her a quick squishy hug that made the little filly giggle, and then put her down on the kitchen floor. Down on the floor, Esmeralda stood near Buttermilk for a moment, looking cautious, then, she dropped her nose down to the floor, sniffed, and began to toddle around on wobbly legs.
“Do you think that Mrs. Velvet sicced Yam on them?” Copperquick asked in a whisper.
“I don’t know,” she replied while shrugging with her wings, “maybe? She’s had him working around the clock for weeks, even before you showed up. I thought that maybe she was working on the next phase of the plan, but maybe the plan changed and now this is the next step. She hasn’t filled me in on the plan lately and she’s told me to remain focused on you.”
There was a dreadful sinking sensation in Copperquick’s stomach and he started to feel a little sick. Esmeralda was beneath the table now, sniffing at the table legs and getting accustomed to this new place. He slumped down against the edge of the table, closed his eyes, and tried not to think of the immeasurable ruination that this would surely cause.
Without warning, Buttermilk took to the air and flew away, her wings almost—but not quite—buzzing. She flew to the stove, fetched the teakettle, flew to the sink, filled the teakettle, when the teakettle was filled, she flew back to the stove, and she put it on to boil. Next, she began to raid the cupboards, pulling out everything needed for tea, all while looking quite solemn.
She pulled down not one, but two teapots, and had two different boxes of tea on the counter. One box was familiar—Celestial Glory—and the other box was something else entirely: Madam Oolong Rouge’s Royal Red Blend. From where Copperquick was sitting he was able to read that this tea was a fine blend of oolong and rose hips.
The warm, ruddy light of morning blazed in through the kitchen windows now, warming the air and filling the room with sunshiny cheer. It was almost as if Princess Celestia herself had arrived and was now trying to gladden those in low spirits. Beneath the table, Esmeralda seemed content and toddled about in circles.
“There are certain careers,” Copperquick began, “that one can only get if they have just the right cutie mark. Certain positions within society. I cannot help but wonder, Buttermilk, if this sudden upset in our legal system will cast a shadow of doubt upon cutie marks in general. I know that I, for one, understand very little about them, but they seem to rule every aspect of our lives.”
“And now, I am thinking of Mister Blancmange,” Buttermilk remarked as she placed a plate down upon the counter. “His comments about my cutie mark and how I was unsuited for my job. Ooooh, what I wouldn’t give to smack him in the face for what he did to—”
“Esme, cover your ears, your Mama is going to start blurting out swearies—”
“No I’m not!” Red-faced, Buttermilk hovered in place and waved her forelegs around. “Okay, I thought about it, but I was only thinking about it. I wasn’t going to do it. But I really, really hate that pony. He’s a buggering git, so he is.” Scooping up some mugs, she held them in her forelegs and flew over to the table to set them out. “I think Moomy will feel better after a cuppa.”
From beneath the table, Esmeralda said, “Buggery-oo-oo!”
Wide-eyed, Buttermilk covered her mouth with one hoof and very nearly dropped a mug on the floor. “Why, Copper, how could you?”
“But I—”
“Copper!”
“But you—”
“Copper! Tsk, tsk, tsk!”
“No, that was—”
“Copper, I told you this would happen,” Buttermilk said from behind her hoof and she gave Copperquick a withering, accusatory glare that was somehow made worse by her mane being pulled back into a severe bun.
“Oh, sod it,” he swore and this made the hovering pegasus gasp at him.
“Shut your gormless gob,” Buttermilk said to Copperquick, and then she began to snicker as she flew away.
As he watched her go, he could not help but smile and feel a little better.