The chancellor and the Princess sat across the desk.
It was a quiet room.
The clock ticked in its place.
Two minutes past ten.
"I've given you the dual role of Chancellor over the Equestria Education Association and of Secretary over the Department of Wartime Internal Affairs because I trusted you would do the right and sensible thing. It was, and still is, a delicate occupation, and, for much of your tenure, you did well and complied with everything—and, if you objected, you provided reasonable explanations and we listened and compromised whenever possible. But..."
She sighed.
"This is too much, too far, Neighsay. We cannot resort to lying to the populace in our public events and posters, much less slander the Crystal ponies who know no better."
"It is not slander and it certainly is not lying if the statements are true," Neighsay replied coolly. "Are they not a danger to us? Are they not a threat to us, to Equestria as we know it? These truths must be communicated to as many ponies as possible, if it is not already obvious and self-evident."
"However, you cannot call these poor Crystals 'mindless', 'insane' or even 'wicked'. It is also obvious and self-evident that they don't attack us willingly. You know as much as everyone else about how Sombra controls his subjects."
"Then, all the more reason to spread these hard truths," Neighsay responded. "The more ponies we can persuade to work directly against the enemy, the better."
"You're a thoughtful pony, Neighsay," Celestia said, eyeing him with a stressed eye. "I'm sure you've thought of the long-term consequences of what you're doing here. If we win the war and free the Crystals, all this hateful propaganda would influence our ponies to heap hostility upon them. They would mistreat the Crystals, abuse them, shout hurtful names at them—for something they did not intend to do at all."
"For they must learn their rightful place!" Neighsay answered, raising his voice and half-standing up from his comfy chair. "An evil committed out of ignorance—what is that to me? What matters is that the evil has been done, and the crime must be punished. The punishment must match the severity of the crime, and if that crime is war—stealing the lives of our fathers and mothers, of our sons and daughters, of our siblings and friends—such Equestrian animosity would not be enough to fulfill the required justice."
"Such animosity would only fuel the cycle of revenge," Celestia said. "A Crystal pony ostracized and resented by everyone around him would not feel a sense of justice but only a sense of hatred. He would ask himself, 'Why can't I live like the other ponies? Why can't I be treated like the others? Why can't I go through a single day without being called a 'mindless pony'?' He would see how unfair everything is, and what would stop him from planning his own war to wage on Equestria?—and, this time, it would be a virtuous war, since he would be fighting for the rights and privileges taken from him by us."
"It is only natural that the criminal hates punishment," Neighsay replied, putting himself back down on his chair. "A criminal who is not punished is a blight in the judicial system and in the moral system. And, Princess, before you say anything about giving them a milder punishment..." He placed a hoof on his robe, effecting a sympathetic face. "I am being gracious by extending to them another chance at life, for if it were up to a crueler pony, they would be executed on the spot."
"But, how much better is it than the death sentence?" Celestia asked, sounding a little pained. "To bear spiteful behavior directed against them for the rest of their lives—no ordinary pony, Crystal or Equestrian, could endure that without suffering irreversibly!"
"Are you saying that our ponies do not suffer irreversibly themselves?" Neighsay asked with raised eyebrows, with a voice of incredulity. "Families and friends gone wholesale because a Crystal pony decided to use a catapult out of sheer boredom! Our loved ones killed off, even when they aren't soldiers! Don't they who live suffer, too? They would never meet their companions again, and it is not their fault, but it is the fault of the ponies at the other side! Do you not hear our victims cry for justice, for retribution, for what's right?"
"I do hear their cries," Celestia said, "but this propaganda is counter-intuitive. Yes, it does instill patriotism in ponies, but at what cost? The Crystal ponies would only fight back harder, Sombra would have more reasons to vanquish us—since we hurled harmful insults at him and his soldiers—and our credibility before other kingdoms would take an awful dip when they see that we continue to use horrible libel."
"It is not slander or libel if it's the truth," Neighsay repeated. "However, I think that we shall go nowhere if we remain in the realm of propaganda and punishments, since you've brought up the matter of other kingdoms..."
Celestia nodded and placed a hoof on the table. "That is exactly the other thing I wanted to talk to you about, Neighsay."
"With all due respect, Princess Celestia," he began—"it simply won't work!"
Celestia flicked her head backward, staring at the seething chancellor with both of his forehooves on the table.
"I've requested an audience with you to discuss this very matter and how this will work to our detriment! While it is our duty and our responsibility to stop an evil authoritarian empire from taking over the world, it is too much to expand our cause to help these non-ponies! You know that they do not place our welfare as a top priority, and if they want to take advantage of our kindness and generosity, then they will."
"But, when we give them our kindness and generosity," Celestia answered, "we also give them a chance to be better. It does not benefit any one of us to fight each other—the Crystal Empire is, in fact, an enemy that binds all of us together in a common cause."
"They are only fair-weather friends," Neighsay shot back. "Once we've all defeated Sombra and peace negotiations begin, they will see our land—depleted and spent. It only takes one ruler to send their troops to us and it is back to war. If we defeat them, another kingdom could strike, further weakening us—and, so the cycle goes until Equestria is too feeble to sustain itself and we are all captured."
"Have you considered that they also have relations and ties with each other?" Celestia asked back. "They also have to fear each other—they do not want to be called a warmonger, after all."
"It makes no difference if they team up to take us down or only involve themselves in their sole pursuits. If one of them wants to fight us, then that is more than enough reason to distrust them."
"Which is why I and my sister do our best to convince them that it's not a good idea to invade Equestria," Celestia replied. "Trade deals and agreements are already underway between us and the next Convocation of Creatures this coming month will finalize these policies. Don't you think this is a better world, Neighsay? A world where ponies and other creatures live together in peace and harmony, in friendship?"
"It is a utopia," Neighsay answered, brushing his hoof as a gesture. "And, as with all utopias, it is impossible. Unattainable. It is useless to work towards something beyond what can be done."
"But, we can try. It is only a utopia because no one else has tried their hoof at it. Besides, if you have any doubts, we control the sun and the moon." She chuckled at that. "It wouldn't be too hard to make sure everyone gets along with each other."
"It would be an extremely strenuous process," Neighsay said. "Even if it can be done, how long will it take? It takes many years for an entire kingdom or empire to change their perspectives and their interests so that they will serve us—not to mention the potential for many, many accidents that can happen along the way. It is not worth it."
"Who said that they'd have to serve us?" Celestia asked. "I do not want them to do everything for us. I only want them to live in unity with us. We would all be serving each other, helping everyone accomplish their benevolent goals."
Neighsay blinked at that, pausing for a second. "Do you believe that those dangerous creatures have benevolent goals? At best, they are pragmatic; at worst, they are downright evil. A dozen dragons would be enough to burn down the East Coast, an army of changelings could infiltrate our government and plunge it into chaos, all of the yak refugees could destroy several cities in their worse days by merely running—"
And inhaled.
"Needless to say, their powers and strengths are bad enough. It is best we keep them at bay or—even better—silence them for the greater good."
"Then, we would be the murderer of so many creatures," Celestia said. "Who would then exact justice upon us?"
"No," Neighsay said. "We would be the exacters of justice ourselves, as it were. We will have destroyed the evil before its birth, nipped the misery in the bud. Then, only then, would the world be free from the plague of iniquity."
"Even if I were to accept your view of non-ponies being causes of pain and suffering," Celestia retorted, "why should I not reform them? Surely, if their powers could be used for evil, then there is a way to use them for good—their rougher aspects could be used to help us win the war, for example, by letting changelings infiltrate the Crystal Empire for us."
"They are traitors to their own kind," Neighsay replied, "so why should we trust them when their bosses aren't changelings?"
"There is always a reason why they turn to us," Celestia said. "It's not always to drag us down. Perhaps, if you spend some time with them and talk to them once in a while, you'll find out that they flew all the way here to experience the plethora of freedoms we have here."
"Only for them to turn those freedoms against us!"
And raised his hoof in the air to emphasize his point.
"We must not give them any leverage whatsoever," he continued, slowly standing up from his chair. "We must not allow them to know how our methods work. We must not let them in, not even for a short period of time, because it is in our best interests to keep Equestria safe in any way possible."
"And let these innocent creatures languish in lifetimes of anguish and torment?" Celestia asked, raising an eyebrow and giving the chancellor a hesitant look. "It sounds very selfish of us, and is it not your duty and responsibility, as Chancellor of the Equestria Education Association, to teach young ponies the value of being, hm, generous to others?"
"Yes, your Highness," he replied, sliding the chair away, "but, you must understand, Princess, that there is a limit—you also know that you cannot be too generous lest you would make yourself susceptible to scams and frauds, garnering fake friends for yourself."
"So, you're saying that we should be generous to other ponies but not to other creatures because we know ponies will give us generosity in return—but those other creatures won't? What happened to doing good without expecting any reward? Our greatest heroes did what was right despite the odds."
"This is no time to dream about heroism!" Neighsay yelled. "The both of us know and everypony else knows about how such heroism can lead to disaster! Too many fresh graduates from the military academy ran up to the front of the battalions to get honor and medals, only to drop dead within the first ten seconds of the fight! I cannot grant such reckless thinking on our part, whether in the military or in the rest of our government."
"Galloping to the fight without making sure you're safe is reckless thinking," Celestia replied calmly, keeping her voice at that mellow level. "Being consistent with your moral principles is not reckless thinking. It's being ethically sound."
"You're getting off-topic!" Neighsay countered, moving his hooves about. "Being too generous is reckless thinking and—"
Celestia laid her hoof right before his face.
Neighsay gulped.
She retracted her hoof.
Celestia stood up.
"Before I came here, Neighsay, I gave you the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps you were too enthusiastic. Maybe I misunderstood your letters and our prior dialogues. You could've been talking about something else entirely and I didn't know it—I thought that this was the time to clear up any confusion."
A pause.
"I wasn't wrong. This night cleared up every confusion in my head about you and what you want to implement. You believe non-ponies don't deserve the kinds of lives we lead because they are dangerous to us—that is the status quo, you say. But, what if I change that? Then, your argument falters."
Pause.
"Not only do you knowingly continue to produce lies in the form of propaganda—and I really want to call it something else, but that is the popular term—well, not only have you done that, but you also teach our colts and fillies those same lies as well."
"They aren't lies if they are—"
"These young ponies need the guidance of good teachers to interact with the world around them. It is up to the parents and teachers to give them a proper understanding of that world. If they're fed lies, then it is sad. They will blindly accept those lies and will live them out to their fullest extent, whether they realize it or not. And, if we show them the truth? Many will hold on to those lies and refuse to accept the truth."
Silence.
"Having you as Secretary of the Department of Wartime Internal Affairs was a mistake. Having you as Chancellor of the Equestria Education Association...it is a tragedy."
Neighsay took a step back. "Are you saying that...?"
Celestia nodded and several guards leaned their heads into view from the doors and marched inside.
Levitating chains.
"I am relieving you of your offices," she said, speaking quietly yet, on her face, a bitter look. "I, too, want to protect Equestria and keep it safe, but the ends do not justify the means."
Neighsay lowered a brow, glaring at Celestia.
Then, he bowed his head. "It is no use opposing you any further. I only hope that you are right, for if you are not—"
One final glower at the Princess.
"—you are to blame, your Highness."
Celestia nodded one more time.
The unicorn guards nodded back and cuffed the chancellor in chains.
Neighsay, caged and chained and in a wagon, was wheeled into the carriage of a train.
The last of Canterlot he saw was a somber street in the night, streetlights barely illuminating the roads and the sidewalks and many of its buildings darkened, adding up to a forlorn path glittering with the faint light of the moon.
The carriage doors closed.
Train whistled.
Smoke gushed out.
And, it was moving.
One of the ponies who had watched his leave was A.K. Yearling who had seen it from afar at one of the junctions.
"And, he's out. What's going on?"
Looked at her watch on her hoof.
Half-past ten.
In the cool morning, Yearling trotted her way to a park in the middle of the capital.
Its atmosphere was serene. Compared to the rush and hurry of ponies pulling in massive carriages of supplies from time to time, the park provided a welcome change of pace. Tranquil in its delights, it had what one would expect from an average park: trees, grass, benches, space, and a pond.
Birds chirped overhead.
"What a nice place," she commented. "I should go out more often in Canterlot. Gives me more particular descriptions of quiet places and breaks to use for whatever adventure's up next. If only I brought some additional paper with me..."
Heard the blare of fireworks in the air.
Jumped a bit and looked up.
In the blue sky, faded red and green.
"Is it a party?" she asked herself.
She trotted off toward the source of the fireworks.
Yearling rounded the corner of another street and, over there, not too far away, was a mare painting the wheels of her wagon brown, working by the front of a book store. An unhappy Well Read, that librarian inside, rested her head on the counter, eyeing Trixie with disdain at blocking much of her shop from sight.
The unicorn was wearing a colorful wizard's cape and a pointed wizard's hat.
Yearling squinted, approaching the magician. "You look familiar."
She turned around to face the writer, still floating the brush of brown paint as it glowed purple. "I should be familiar to you, for I am the Great and Powerful Trixie!"
With that, she kicked the carriage and fireworks shot out of it, exploding in the sky with their loud outbursts and their dazzling lights in spite of the bright morning sky.
"And, you must be Daring Do!" Trixie went on, pointing at her and smiling.
Yearling bit her lip. "Not really! I'm the author of the Daring Do series, but we do look alike because I based the character on myself."
Trixie nodded. "Yes, you do look very much alike." She resumed painting the wheels, though she kept facing Yearling. "Speaking of authors and books—how convenient that we are at a book store! I didn't quite catch the name, but if you want, I'll do a quick check and—"
"That won't be necessary," Yearling interrupted. "So, what books have you read lately?"
"Oh, there's this one book that I finished up over the winter. It's called 'Rivers and Streams' and it's a non-fiction book about—"
Yearling grabbed her, covered her mouth, and galloped inside the wagon with her in tow.