3 AM
“Everything is ready, sir,” said Notary.
“Splendid. Think it’ll work?”
“If it were any other pony, I would say ‘no’, sir. But if you plan to personally be on the scene, assisting the con... I would give it fifty-percent odds.”
“That sounds about right.” Greengrass smiled. “Newspapers? Actors and clothing?”
“Letters too, with the appropriate stamps and postmarks”
“Letters – really? Excellent work!” Greengrass blinked. “You continue to impress me, Notary.”
“I do my best, sir.” Notary smiled at the compliment. “But I do have one more matter for you. A message just arrived from your castle.”
“What is it?”
“The new gardener, sir. He failed the fidelity test.”
Greengrass, like most employers, preferred loyal employees. As such, whenever he hired new help – be it a castle servant, bodyguard, spy, or member of his political network – he arranged things such that they had an opportunity to somehow betray him early on, so that Greengrass could make sure they didn't take it. The gardener, who had money problems, had been left alone in a room with a pouch of bits. Evidently, he’d stolen the money.
Incompetence usually only merited a firing, unless the incompetent employee knew too much and had to be relocated elsewhere for the sake of Greengrass’s political career. Outright theft and disloyalty, though, carried harsher penalties. “That money was from the Equestrian Bank branch in my fiefdom, as I recall.”
“Yes, sir.”
Greengrass’s voice was calm and dispassionate, as if discussing a business report. “Have Brute inform the gardener that he will either volunteer for the Mild West settlement teams, or will go to jail for felony theft.” Greengrass was fond of sending his disloyal or traitorous employees to public works projects in other, far-flung districts. It got rid of the traitors, made Greengrass look good for supporting the public good, and would likely cause the ponies in charge of those districts headaches much later. The director of the Mild West settlements was on some influential committees; if he was saddled with a thief, Greengrass might be able to exploit that eventually.
“Yes, sir.”
Greengrass smiled, indicating that the distasteful part of the conversation was over. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll see you at five, then. I have some personal business to attend to.”
“Very well, sir. Have fun in your secret hideout.”
“It’s - -Notary, you make it sound like a foal’s clubhouse. I do serious work there.”
Notary raised an eyebrow.
“…but yes, I plan to unwind a bit in my private residence.”
“It’s a secret hideout, sir.”
Greengrass laughed and departed.
4 AM
There wasn’t a lot of open land available in Canterlot, but Greengrass preferred to have his garden indoors anyway.
It was the basement of an old condominium complex that Greengrass had been able to buy cheaply. He’d knocked down the walls between the basement rooms, then installed pipes and sprinklers, artificial lighting, and soil. The Duke had then planted flowers, shrubs, and even a few small trees. By now, it was a surprisingly verdant garden, and Greengrass made it a point to stop by and do some actual gardening at least three times a week. The garden didn’t technically need it – he’d bought the latest in technology, the lighting and sprinklers ran on gear clocks and could run themselves for months if he had to leave them unattended – but he liked to.
It was, he knew, a weakness. An enemy could exploit his garden by threatening to torch it or something. But he was willing to accept that. He wasn’t going to be a career civil servant who schemed for power his whole life and never used it on himself. His father had been a pony like that – he’d gone into the Court at age twenty, retired at seventy, and had barely ever done anything for himself in the intervening fifty years. All his energy was directed at shoring up his own position and moving ever higher, which he did by accomplishing more and more for the government. And so, quite inadvertently, he’d wound up as one of Equestria’s unsung heroes, an industrious and intelligent pony who continually placed the country’s welfare above his own. The banquet they threw for him when he retired was the only time he’d taken in fifty years to do something for himself.
Greengrass snorted. His father had been a fool. But he wouldn’t make the same mistakes. He’d continue to move up, but he’d spend time on himself too, and if it made things harder later, so what? He’d meet that challenge.
The Duke had always wanted to have a nice garden, but he’d never been any good at growing plants in the outdoors. However, in the basement, in an environment that left nothing to chance, he was finally able to produce a garden. He set the temperature, lighting, watering… everything was tightly controlled, and that the plants flourished and the garden grew brilliantly was more a matter of course than a surprise.
Someday, he thought, smiling, All Equestria will be like this garden – one unified nation, controlled by me. I will rule over every bit of it, from the biggest corporation to the smallest house. I will build it into a mighty empire, and run it exactly as I wish. Not wanting to get too far ahead of himself, he hadn’t thought too much about exactly what ruling all Equestria would entail (besides doing something about the Everfree; he saw no reason why such an uncontrolled and chaotic area should be allowed to exist), but he was confident he would indeed rule it someday. Maybe, he thought, it was the earth pony in him, wanting to build something, and just setting its sights a little higher than most, who were content to muck around on a little farm for their whole lives.
In a few years, I will be atop the Court. That alone would be a great achievement and would give me vast power. And then… maybe a few years later, I will find some way to supplant Luna. Alicorns haven’t always ruled the land, after all. It wouldn’t be impossible…
But all of that would have to wait. At the moment, Greengrass was carefully examining a sunflower. Though the garden was almost perfect, with flowers and shrubs in just the right arrangements, this particular sunflower wasn’t doing well. It was drooping, giving the whole line of the flowers a weird look. Like a line of soldiers with one that didn’t quite wake up, thought Greengrass. Not acceptable. Not here.
He examined it carefully, putting his ear to its top, then a hoof to its roots. He took a deep breath. And he focused on his talent, because he had a strong intuition that was what would be needed.
Rootrot.
Aha. He took a small spade and dug, very carefully, until he saw the roots. Yes, something seemed to have infected them.
Moving carefully, he placed the tip of his hoof against the rotten parts, and he focused.
I was never very good at gardening, he thought. Or growing anything, really. Kind of embarrassing, to be an earth pony that can barely keep grass alive… but my father taught me one useful lesson. ‘Son,’ he said, ‘Some earth ponies are good at making things grow. But that’s not all you need to run a farm. Somepony has to make the fertilizer. Somepony has to lay the water pipes. Somepony has to do the accounting. Maybe your talent’s in one of those areas.
The rot began to turn an odd shade of black and peel off of the root.
And it was. Weeding was mine.
Greengrass had gotten his cutie mark when he’d woken up one morning to find that his latest attempt at gardening, a plot of impatients – the easiest, hardiest flower to grow in the world – had been taken over by some weed that grew on everything. Greengrass had stepped into the garden plot in dismay, only to feel some kind of weird feeling come over him. In a daze, he’d walked through the plot, images popping into his head. And by the time he was done, he had a vague recipe – ingredients and proportions – for a crude weedkiller.
He hadn’t been able to save the impatients, but he’d made very sure that every weed was dead. His cutie mark, an ‘X’, the universal symbol of elimination and deletion, appeared immediately afterwards.
And since then, he’d nurtured his talent, taking it far beyond weeds. He could see the weaknesses of things – not just plants, but structures, even ponies. He could see what would break them. Some chemicals for a weed, a strong blow in a weak joint for a building, and something like age, pride, fear, or friendship for a pony. He could find those weaknesses and exploit them. It was just like weeding, but on a much larger scale.
He’d tried a few different careers. He’d been a great interrogator for the police up in Stalliongrad, during his days as a wandering youth, and he’d taken a turn as a lawyer in Amblerja a few years prior. But ultimately, politics was where he was most suited for. The other ponies had political skill of various degrees, but Greengrass also had his talent. He could see how to break the others, how to sink their careers and make room for his own. Hence his rapid rise… and his boundless ambition.
The rot was dead. Greengrass took a sip from a flask of whisky (a rare and expensive vintage; he only had the best when he was gardening) and began to carefully pack the dirt back in around the sunflower. He smiled, looking at the plant whose life he had just saved. It would heal. His garden would continue to improve.
“Perfection,” he said.
5 AM
Captain Lightning’s train pulled into the train station exactly on schedule.
“Alright,” said Greengrass. “We have two votes, but we need his archduchess’s to make three. Where are the actors?”
“All along the route, sir,” said Notary. “I’ve also taken the liberty of seeing the Chamber President to manipulate the vote order.”
“… right, good thinking. We want Blueblood last, since he’ll end up being the deciding vote, and he’s thoughtless enough not to care.” He smiled. “I don’t know where I’d be without you.”
“In jail, sir, I would estimate.”
Greengrass laughed, and Notary smiled. “Alright, alright. Your indispensability is noted, and will be accompanied by a substantial Hearth’s Warming Eve bonus. Now. Let’s con this soldier!”
Lightning stepped out of the train and began to trot briskly towards the castle, brushing by a couple of ponies in torn clothes as he did so. “Excuse me,” he said, his voice clear and bright in the morning air.
Greengrass began to follow him, but discretely, and at a distance. Notary had vanished back into the shadows. I really should learn how she does that, he thought.
Lightning maneuvered through the crowds skillfully as he got out of the train station and began the short walk to the palace. He had to step around several sets of ponies in torn clothing as he did so, some with what looked like minor injuries. As he trotted, his steps began to slow. Greengrass smiled. He was taking the bait.
“Is something…?” began Lightning, pausing to examine a set of huddled ponies who looked quite frightened and disheveled. And then he started, having had a chance to examine their clothes more closely. “What happened?”
The ponies shrank away from him and vanished into the side streets.
“Come back!” yelled a bewildered Lightning. He approached another group, but they scattered as soon as they saw him coming. “What’s going on?”
Greengrass approached. “Captain, hello! Pleased to—“
“Shut up! Did something happen?”
“What do you mean?”
“Those injured ponies; they’re wearing clothes from the northern provinces,” snapped Lightning. “Was there some problem up north?”
Greengrass pretended to think. “Well, there was that special train that came in about ten minutes before yours… I think it was from the north”
“Special train?!”
“A lot of ponies got off it. They looked kind of like refugees. Shell-shocked and… well, you know.”
This was one of the bigger scams that Greengrass had tried to pull, but it seemed to be working. Lightning’s eyes darted about. “I don’t believe this. I left the front for two days to head back here to vote – if something happened, if there was an attack, they should have sent me a message onboard the train! Get me a newspaper!”
“I—“
Lightning shoved his way past Greengrass and galloped to the nearest newspaper stand, which was just opening for business. “Give me that,” ordered Lightning, seizing a paper. “…no, look. There’s nothing here about it. If something had gone wrong, the papers would have the story before the refugees arrived.”
Greengrass paged through the paper. “Ah – there. Page seven.”
It had been worth getting that printing press, Greengrass thought. As silly as some might think the idea was, it could be very useful to be able to print up a fake page in a newspaper. He had an ex-editor whom he could call on at a moment’s notice to mock up a page that looked perfectly real. Then, all that was needed was to obtain several real newspapers, switch a page with the fake, and then get those newspapers back to the stands where they were needed. It was a lot of work, and it cost a lot of money, but what pony, even a courtier, would think that a newspaper sold at a public stand might be faked?
“Mysterious incidents in northern provinces. Reports sketchy. Possible injuries reported?” Lightning flung the paper away. “What is this? Don’t they know anything? Why isn’t this on the front page?”
“The Court doesn’t have the resources to deal with it right now - -Blueblood’s got everypony terrified of Corona, so most of the military is being positioned against her. They don’t want to panic anypony, so they’re downplaying it,” said Greengrass.
A pony in a tattered shawl bumped into them and dropped a letter as she rushed by. The letter had a stamp and postmark from the northern provinces. Lightning seized it and opened it, and though Greengrass hadn’t read it himself, he was confident that Notary had come up with some horrific tale of woe. “Downplaying this? According to this letter, one in four ponies was injured!” Lightning looked furious. “It doesn’t say what it is, but we have to defend against it!”
“The Court won’t listen.“
“Insane. I’ll make them listen. If ‘something’ happened up north, it’s nothing a few squads of the ground troops and the battle mages can’t fix."
“They won’t deploy them—“
“I didn’t ask your opinion.”
“Look, you know it’ll take a few days to get anypony sent up to the front. Like I said, they’re in full Corona-panic mode now, and they won’t listen to you. I wish it were different, I wish there was something I could do, but the Court’s frozen.”
Lightning ground his teeth. Greengrass nodded to himself – with details this sketchy, it would take days to deploy more than a token force, and Lightning would know it. “I hate politicians. And you’re included in that, Greengrass.”
“I have never done anything—“
“Stow it. If you really want to show you care about this country, give me some of the militia and military forces in your fiefdom. You’re not using them now, and they can reach the provinces in less than a day.”
“I can’t just give them to you; I’d be a laughingstock. That’s not how it’s done in the Court.”
“What’s more important, the whole country or your career?”
Greengrass shook his head. “Look, just give me a token and I promise to lend you half my guards for a month. Like – like this vote coming up. Ask Archduchess Nobility to flip her vote. That way I can say I got something for giving you my guards.”
“Are you that afraid of being accused of altruism?”
“It’s lethal in the Court.”
Lightning laughed at that, a harsh and barking sound. “Sorry. Already pledged to support Fisher.”
“He’ll still get the grant!” Greengrass tried to look frustrated, like he wanted to help Lightning but couldn’t because of the Captain’s own stubbornness. “He’s three votes up and you only control one. Just – just do this for me and you’ll have two squadrons of guards to supplement your forces up north. If you don’t, I can’t help you. And we both know it’ll take days to get any other force up there.”
Lightning glared at Greengrass, but the Duke already knew what Lightning would do. He wouldn’t leave his forces or the province hanging. “Fine. Now get the Hay out of my way.” He stormed off.
Greengrass looked around. The ‘injured’ ponies would disburse in a few minutes; they’d only been paid to act for a short while. None of them knew his real identity; Notary had handled hiring them, and as far as they knew, this was all just some big improvised street production, an ‘artiste’ thing. The newspaper vendors didn’t know either. There was nothing tying the scam back to him.
Perfect. All that was left was the vote.
6 AM
“Not a bad night’s work,” Greengrass said, smiling, as Notary opened the door into his booth. “Not bad at all.”
“We haven’t won yet.”
“Ah, but we will. Now is when we can savor our triumph before moving on to our next adventure!”
“Of course, sir.” Notary smiled. “Would this be like when we were savoring our triumph in obtaining the services of Lyra Heartstrings?”
“… I should hope not.” Greengrass shook his head. “I admit it; I underestimated Lulamoon’s immaturity. To throw a fit and frame her ‘friend’ because Lyra was going to leave her… honestly, the thought of her controlling the Elements scares me.”
“It scares many ponies.”
“But she’s Luna’s favorite, so she can’t be targeted directly. Ah well.” He sighed. “Well, no matter. We’ll get them all eventually. None of them have the resources to beat me.”
“The vote is starting, sir.”
Down below, ponies were rising. “I vote that the grant be awarded to Archduke Fisher.”
“I vote that the grant be awarded to Vicereine Puissance.”
“Fisher.”
“Puissance.”
After several votes, Notary murmured, “All votes so far as expected, sir.”
“Splendid.”
There was a pause. “It’s your turn, sir.”
“Oh, right.” He stuck his head out of the booth. “I vote for Puissance!”
The first unexpected part was when Baron Mounty Max got up. He was nervous and shaking a bit, but he managed to say, “I vote – I vote for Puissance!” And there were whispers.
The second surprise was when Archduchess Nobility spoke. “Vicereine Puissance,” she said, her voice regal and strong. “Without question.”
Fisher was looking nervous and was whispering to his whole entourage – he was one of those ponies, Greengrass thought, who seemed to need at least five others to follow him around wherever he went. Greengrass thought it was a bit pathetic. He needed only Notary most of the time, and he could get by without her if he had to. Fisher, though, looked lost on the rare occasions that he didn’t have his crew. For that matter, he looked a bit lost now.
Blueblood voted last. He should have voted early, given his relatively junior rank of Viscount, but it seemed the voting order was somehow jumbled. “I vote for Puissance,” he said.
Puissance herself seemed a bit surprised, only belatedly rising up to thank the Court for bestowing the grant upon her lands. Builder Brick, in the audience, appeared to be restraining the urge to cheer. Fisher, from his booth, looked shocked and said nothing. The rest of the Court erupted into murmurs and whispers, as everypony tried to figure out how this sudden reversal had come to be.
Greengrass smiled. “Now can we celebrate?”
“I think that would be acceptable, sir.”
7 AM
Greengrass had just poured himself a large tumbler of bourbon when Lightning stormed into his office.
“There was no attack up north!” he yelled. “You made it all up!”
“Made what up? I saw what you saw. Any ‘fakery’ fooled me too.”
Lightning ground his teeth. “Liar. I will end you!”
“End me how?” Greengrass smiled politely, as if the discussion were academic.
“I will tell the whole Court of your depraved efforts to fool me into repositioning Equestrian military forces! Had you succeeded, national defense—“
Greengrass held up a hoof. “Wait. First of all, do you have any evidence that I did anything?”
“Those ponies! The papers!”
“I had nothing to do with them, and if you have any evidence to the contrary, I would be quite surprised.”
“Then – then you lied about the special train. There was no such train!”
“I never said I saw it myself. I just told you what I’d heard. I suppose we were both fooled.” Greengrass smirked. “I wish you luck in finding the culprit.”
“Forget proof. I’ll tell the Court anyway.”
“You’ll tell the Court that I fooled you with a few actors and some newspapers? Go ahead if you want, but if you tell the world that you’re that foolish, I don’t see you having a long career,” said Greengrass. I don’t see you having a long one anyway. If I know the Archduchess, she’ll be furious when she finds out what happened. She trusted you, and you let her down by having her vote for the wrong pony in the name of a fictitious crisis. I predict you’ll be removed from the political scene and deployed to the middle of nowhere within two weeks. I can weather your anger until then.
The Captain hesitated. He wasn’t much good at politics, Greengrass knew, but even he knew that admitting he’d been fooled would destroy him. “I will ruin you,” vowed Lightning. “I don’t know how, but I will.” He swept out.
Five minutes later, Puissance entered. “Well done,” she said. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“I get that a lot. Bourbon?”
They drank a toast, and then Puissance smiled. “Whatever your plans are for this Gala, you may count on my support.”
“Splendid. Glad to be working with such an esteemed politician.”
“I think I like you, Greengrass. Please, take care not to overextend yourself. I would be quite sad to have to destroy you.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
And after she left, when Greengrass was about to go to bed for the day, Archduke Fisher strode into his room.
“Please explain to me,” said the archduke, “Why I shouldn’t crush you.”
Greengrass carefully considered how to play his next move. He decided on a confident, yet slightly placating tact. In a calm voice, he said, “It was a small grant. We both know it won’t hurt you much to lose it. But I had to get your attention somehow.”
“Attention?”
Greengrass nodded. “I’ve been trying to get on your calendar for months, but you seemed to think I was beneath your notice.”
“Ah. I see. Well… I’ve noticed you now. I don’t think you’ll like it.”
“Let me make it up to you,” said Greengrass. “I have a few plans that could lead to handsome profit for us both, provided we work together. My secretary will send you the details. If you like what you see, and I think you will, I’d be happy to let you take a bit larger of a share of the profits as… well, as recompense for this.”
“Mmm.” Fisher frowned. “I suppose you are… interesting enough that I would like to see your offer. But take care, Greengrass. I do intend for you to make this up to me. And, if I don’t feel like you have, I can make your Night Court career nasty, brutish, and quite short.”
“Understood.”
And then he too was gone.
Greengrass entered his room and sat on his bed. “Notary?”
“Yes, sir?” His secretary poked her head in from his office area.
“It seems that, whenever I talk with another pony in the Court, the conversation ends with them threatening to crush me. Do you think we could just let it be known that it’s understood? It would save me quite a bit of time in the long run.”
“I’ll look into it, sir.”
Greengrass laughed, a deep and warm sound. “Ah, but that was fun. Remind me to do that again sometime.”
“Of course. And congratulations are in order. That was a masterful plan.”
Greengrass chuckled. “Well, I do have them on occasion.”
He lay down and was asleep within moments, dreaming of an Equestrian Empire, perfect in every way, and ruled by him.