//------------------------------// // So Very Very Tired // Story: The Moon is a Harsh Mistress // by NavyPony //------------------------------// The Moon is a Harsh Mistress by NavyPony Chapter Four: So Very Very Tired Deep in the servants’ quarters of the west wing, Nightlight collapsed wearily in his bed. It was thirteen minutes after sunrise, although it might’ve been better to call it fourteen minutes after moonset, considering his station. Whatever the case, it was much too early for him to be going to sleep. He had cleaning, and paperwork, and reports, and turnover, and had to talk to Snowy Slopes about everything, and… ‘And I’ve never felt so tired in my entire life.’ However in light of that last fact, nothing else could possibly matter. Sure, some of the evening had been physically taxing, but he hadn’t been up for any longer than usual; it was something about the incredible stress that had left him feeling as drained as he was. After everything he’d experienced over the course of the night, his first night as the Lunar Hoofservant, he couldn’t bring himself to heed the consequences of relieving his tiredness. ‘Hay, I can’t even remember half the night.’ Ignoring every rational thought going through his head, the young steward slid into his little bed, closed his eyes, and began to painfully relive everything he’d just been through… ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ Princess Luna’s midnight meal, the garden cress linguine and the lilac-garnished salad that had been painstakingly and (in Nightlight’s humble opinion) beautifully prepared, turned out to be entirely unacceptable, and Her Highness made it very clear that this was entirely the fault of a certain hoofservant. For one, the chefs had been overly generous with alfalfa in the salad, she'd declared, and the parsley was lacking; furthermore, she was never to be served anything with water chestnuts again, excepting official functions. None of these things were the chief problem. No, the issue arose when she stabbed a fork into the pasta, nose still buried in the deceptively-named ‘A Brief History of Equestria’. Her noodles were overcooked, it seemed, and how dare anypony, especially her hoofservant, even consider presenting Her with a meal like that. Upon returning to the kitchens, Nightlight found that it was not Harvest Moon, Luna’s ‘official’ chef, but instead the actual Head Chef, Celestia's chef, that had prepared the meal. Suffice it to say, Chef Ala Mode wasn’t pleased to be up at this time of night, and was even less pleased to have a meal sent back. He took it as a personal insult.          “They were not overdone!” declared the anchovy-green earth pony with a snooty tone. “Those noodles were cooked to perfection, and if you think otherwise, monsieur, you do not understand fine dining!”          “I didn’t say they were overdone!” the young steward shouted back, having tried for the last five minutes to get his point across. “I said Her Highness prefers firmer noodles! What’s the big problem?!” He was causing a scene, but he was more concerned with haste than appearances; Luna had made it inordinately clear that she expected a replacement meal immediately. “Can’t you just boil another pot already!?”          Ala Mode clopped a hoof on the tile floor with a huff. “You are asking for me to serve royalty undercooked food, and that’s something I cannot do! This is an issue I will not compromise upon, you conceited colt!”          “What? I’m conceited?” Nightlight could barely contain his frustration at the accusation. After all, he was only doing what the princess had ordered him to do, right? ‘Besides the fact that the noodles actually were okay.’ Nonetheless, Princess Luna considered her meal unsatisfactory. ‘What the hay does he not understand? If she doesn’t get another plate soon…’  Groaning in aggravation, he had to fight not to strike his head against the ground. “Ugh! Why can’t you just fix some more linguini?! I can see some more right there!”          “Of course I can fix more noodles.”          “Then do it already! The princess is waiting!”          “But I cannot cook them any differently.”          “What?! Why not?!”          The dull green stallion snorted haughtily. “Because I will not compromise my standards for anything. It would be an affront to the culinary art.”          “Aaagh!!”          After some twenty minutes of arguing circles, Nightlight finally convinced the smug chef to prepare more noodles, and to cook them for less time. A quick application of sauce, a frantic sprint through the castle, and one argument with the royal librarians later, Nightlight presented Her Highness with a fresh plate of garden cress linguini. Halfway hidden behind her fortress of tomes, the Lunar Goddess took only one look at him and his offering before erupting in strangely quiet anger.          It seemed that these noodles were just as overcooked as the previous plate. Furthermore, even if he’d brought a satisfactory meal (a feat which she declared implausible at best), the delay was entirely unsatisfactory. Why hadn’t he checked the firmness of the noodles? If it took him so long to convince the chefs to prepare more food, why hadn’t he gotten somepony else to do the job? Was there nopony else in the entire castle who could cook? Was Nightlight incapable of seeing Her orders fulfilled? Ultimately, he had but one job, and he was failing at it.          Nightlight galloped back to the kitchens even faster than he’d left them, fighting to hold back tears. He burst through the doors, nearly tackled the head chef, and pushed the plate of (perfectly done) noodles directly at the chef who’d made them. This time, he did not mince words. “These are still not good enough!”          The head chef harrumphed. “They are… more al dente than the last batch.”          “No!” Nightlight shouted. “They are exactly the same!”          Ala Mode shut his eyes and turned his nose up haughtily as he spoke. “These are as firm as I am willing to make them! If you do not enjoy my noodles, you should consider not eating them!”          “Don’t you see?!” Nightlight yelled, his eyes welling up at the injustice of the whole situation. “I don’t care about your bucking noodles! They’re not for me, they’re for the Princess!” ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~          “Night! Wake up!” ‘Huh?’ “Nightlight! For Discord’s sake, wake up already!” somepony hoofed him upside the head, hard.          “Uggh, Imawake, Imawake. What was that for?” More importantly, why did he feel like manure? He cracked open an eye to find an azure-coated pegasus staring at him angrily. “What time is it?”          Noon Nap fluttered haughtily above his subordinate’s bed, forehooves crossed in disapproval. “It’s eight-ten! Why the hay didn’t you come to turnover this morning? Or do any of your regular duties? I’ve been looking for you all morning.”          “Horseapples…” he groused, rolling over and trying to fall back asleep. “You, of all ponies, would expect a missing servant to be sleeping when they should be working; this is the first place you checked. And why do I feel even worse than I did earlier?”          The Secondary Night Steward ‘tsked’ at his charge. “Sleep inertia. And don’t take that tone with me, colt. You might be about to get sacked, but I’m still your boss.” A self-satisfied look appeared on the pegasus’ face - he had, after all, predicted something about this, hadn’t he? “Make yourself presentable and report to our office in fifteen minutes.” He lifted from the ground lazily and began winging out of Nightlight’s quarters. “And don’t even think about going back to sleep; if you’re not there in fifteen I’ll call the guard to escort you,” he called over his shoulder, beginning to chuckle unpleasantly. “Speaking of which, I hear you had a run in with them earlier tonight…”          The groggy unicorn forced himself to roll out of his bed. “Get out, already, Noon. I’ll be there.” Noon Nap kicked the door shut with a final laugh, leaving Nightlight alone in his room once more. ‘Did I really fall asleep?’ Looking up at the clock on his wall, the answer was an obvious yes. 0814. ‘Clop me.’          Fifteen minutes turned into ten when you factored in travel time and arriving two minutes early (old servants’ adage: ‘early is on time; on time is late’), and ten minutes wasn’t enough time to shower and dry. In fact, it was hardly enough time to brush the snarls from his mane, but that was something he couldn’t really forgo. Looking in a mirror, it was obvious that when Noon Nap had told him to become presentable, he'd been referring to the sorry state of his hair. ‘And the crunchy, bloodshot eyes,’ he decided. ‘Sleep inertia? Really?’ Perhaps the sleep inertia was responsible for his complete hatred of everything in existence…          It was not shaping up to be a good day.          Looking only mildly better than he had upon waking, Nightlight stepped into the Night Stewards’ Office. It was supposed to be the central office from which the night stewards worked, and if it were still nighttime, an on-duty steward would’ve been posted.          Not that any of these facts made the room any less of a closet. The cramped room could barely contain the bookshelves and filing cabinets stuffed within, let alone the desk and pair of chairs in the very middle. It turned having more than one pony in the room at any time into a thoroughly cramped affair.          Both strangely and fortunately, however, this last part turned into a nonissue, as there was nopony else present. Squeezing his way through the cramped space, Nightlight made his way to one of the old chairs situated in the middle of the room and closed his eyes to await Noon Nap’s arrival… ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~          By some crazy, contrived logic, the young steward was actually able to convince Ala Mode to fix another serving of linguini for the princess. These noodles Nightlight personally tested, and while they were certainly less cooked than he preferred, he decided it was better to err on the side of caution. After all, the previous batches were perfectly good, he’d thought. After thanking the irate Head Chef, he bolted out of the kitchens once more, intent on making it to the library as quickly as possible.          A new plate of pasta clutched in the yellow aura of his telekinesis, he made his way through a pair of angry bookkeepers (and one very meek one), towards the middle of the library, and around the stacks of books the princess was hidden behind. Then he circled it again. Then once more. Then… ‘Buck.’          “Your Highness?” he called tentatively, hoping against hope that she’d merely moved to get another book from the shelves. ‘Because that’s not what her royal librarian is for, is it?’ He tried once more, a little bit louder. “Princess Luna?”          “Shh!” A wrinkled old mare with her mane tied up in a bun shushed him from across the room. She was red with pent-up anger, and seemed thrilled to have found somepony to take it out on. Shooting eye-daggers at the source of the noise, she hissed at him forcefully, and asserted the obvious. “You are in a library.”          It was a library, true, but it was also an emergency. “Where’s the Princess?” he demanded of the elderly librarian, nearly spilling the pasta as he charged back to the library’s entrance. “Where did she go?”          The parchment-colored mare just stared him down, her bespectacled eyes and taciturn scowl making it clear that she didn’t intend to acquiesce. She restated the fact that they were in a library, and went on to explain that excessive noisemaking was discourteous to the other patrons, and if he might refrain from such behavior it would be more appropriate.          He took a quick glance about the chamber to confirm his suspicions before replying. “There are no other patrons! Just tell me where she is!” he demanded, trying his best to sound authoritative.          The other two librarians in the room (one a wiry stallion of middle age and the other Origami, the timid ‘Royal Librarian’) remained quietly observant while the senior librarian dismissed Nightlight. “Also, as we’ve said earlier, please refrain from bringing foodstuffs into the library – it is dangerous to the manuscripts. Thank you.” With a flick of her curly tail, the mare spun around and marched back to the main desk.          He directed his gaze towards the other two ponies in the room; the stallion grinned at him sardonically and Origami dropped her eyes to examine the floor. “Please! Just tell me where she went and I’ll leave already!” He got two angry glares and one flustered apology, but no real answer. “Augh!” he wailed, cantering out of the library. “First Ala Mode, now you!” If the librarians had any response he was too preoccupied to catch it.          Swearing to himself and magically clutching his plate of linguini, the young steward picked a direction and started running. ‘Where the bucking buck would she be?!’ he demanded of himself, looking for anypony that might have noticed an alicorn passing through. The hallways were conspicuously absent, however, and in retrospect it was only panicked optimism that let him hope he’d meet others in the hallways. ‘After all, the only ponies awake at night are doing their jobs or sneaking to some other pony’s room for – That’s it! Her room!’ Changing directions rapidly, he skid to a halt and galloped to the nearest staircase.          Nightlight soon learned that Princess Luna was not in her chambers. Then he discovered that she was not in the throne room. Nor was she in the judicial chambers. Nor the gardens, the dining hall, the library (he checked to see if she went back at some point), or any of the half dozen other places he considered. He even went so far as to ask the guards stationed outside Princess Celestia’s chambers to ask if they’d seen the younger of the Royal Pony Sisters. His inquiries were met with no more success than his other endeavors of the night, and, disheartened, he finally came to his last resort: the office of the Night Stewards. He really, really, really didn’t want to ask Noon Nap for help with this, but… for Luna’s sake, he had to give his best effort. ‘At least until you quit, right?’ Besides, losing a princess was probably no more of a career-killer than making the moon late, and he’d somehow retained his job despite the night’s earlier blunders.          Resigning himself to the prospect and having replaced his servant’s pride with a scrumptious (albeit extra firm) noodle dish, he trotted through the castle to the Western Wing. Less than two minutes later, his trip bore unexpected fruit when he noticed a painfully familiar voice reverberating within the castle. He inadvertently located the Lunar Princess en route. He’d have turned from his original path and followed the increasingly voluminous voice, if not for the fact that it was obviously coming from his destination; she was in the Night Stewards’ Office. ‘That is not a good sign – most ponies don’t even know about this room, and even fewer go in it.’ It was only after a couple unnerving moments of such thought that Nightlight realized something much more significant about this event – namely that Princess Luna was yelling, screaming at the top of her lungs, at somepony, and it wasn’t him. He hoped it was a good sign.          “Indeed? JUSTIFICATIONS? Thou dost profess a satisfactory vindication!?" Silence. Relative silence, at least. More likely, whatever pony was receiving the brunt of Luna’s attack was responding, and was simply speaking with a more normal noise level. “Is that so?” Judging by the tone of Luna’s voice, the reply was insufficient. “And art thou not accountable for everypony that performs beneath thee!? What with art thou charged?! Thou mayest not shunt culpability to those beneath thee, for it is the onus of a leader to see that her orders are carried out adequately. Should this be done insufficiently it is not only thy subordinates’ shortcoming, but thine even moreso! Wherefore does thy position exist, if not the responsibility of thy underlings?!” Short pause. “Well?! Answer us!” Even shorter pause. “ANSWER!”          Nightlight was struck with the urge to simply turn around and walk away. ‘But where?’ On any other occasion, this office would’ve been his go-to location when he needed to wait something out or do some avoiding… but that didn’t seem to be an option. Whatever the case, it wasn’t as if he could just knock on the door and tell the Princess he had another plate of pasta for her when she was doing her… thing. ‘But you can’t just leave when you have to bring her food. Besides you’ve been wrong about her behavior how many times tonight?’ A lot, to be honest. ‘For buck’s sake, she congratulated you on leaving the castle. Sorta.’ But the fact remained: interrupting a furiously screaming goddess wasn’t something the young stallion could bring himself to do. “It’s merely prudence,” he whispered to himself as he stared at the smallish doors to the stewards’ office. ‘No,’ whispered the little pony in his head, ‘it’s cowardice. You’re afraid, and-’ The resounding CRACK that echoed from behind those doors made Nightlight’s heart skip a beat. ‘And I’m totally okay with that. Being a coward? I'm okay with being a coward. It could be worse.’ After all, he could be going through whatever that pony in the office was going through.          Namely, the Royal Canterlot Voice. Once more, the alicorn’s sonorous voice thundered through the castle. “UNACCEPTABLE! Thou might be more competent, but thy temperament is more wanting! Such declarations ought ne’er pass thy lips! Retire for the night, that thou might consider thy failings!” Moments later, the doors shot open in a flash of magic, and a sweating, trembling mare stepped into the hallway.          Star Quill glared at him with pure venom.                  ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ Noon Nap’s voice filled the room. “Wake. Up,” he commanded coldly, striking a hoof against the chair his subordinate slumbered in. “Now.”          Nightlight snapped back awake, barely refraining from swearing audibly when he realized with whom he shared the tiny space. Ignoring the little voice in his head telling him to go back to sleep, he came to his hooves. “What… ugh. What time is it? And why am I awake?”          Noon opened his mouth to answer, only to be cut short by the biting voice of an old mare. There was no pony he wanted to hear less than this one. “Why do you think you’re awake?” A cool sweat washed over the young servant as he turned to face the source of that voice. ‘Oh buck me.’          Star Quill glared at him with pure venom. Again.          ‘With the moon,’ Nightlight bemoaned silently, dropping his eyes to the floor while he searched for an answer that wouldn’t further upset the Head Night Steward. None came to mind, so he just stayed silent, staring at the ground between his hooves.          Too little, too late. “Hmmph. What a time, what a night! Do you realize how much damage you’ve caused in the last twenty-four hours? And now you're sleeping!” He continued examining the floor. “And she’s blaming me for your buck-ups. Do you think this is right?” Floor, floor, floor. “No, it isn’t. I’m taking the heat for your mistakes, and that’s a load of horseapples. Why couldn't you just get things right in the first place?” Nightlight closed his eyes as Star Quill droned on; at least she wasn’t loud. “Oh, that’s right - because you’re incompetent. I swear, I don’t know why we even hired you in the first place – you’re just a common pony. Do you even think before you act?” Her lectures just turned into a sort of dull buzzing. “No, no you don’t, and that’s why you’re so bad at this. Do you even realize how you’re making the Night Stewards look to the Princess?” Eh, he was too tired to care. “How badly you’re making me look?” Much too tired. “You embarrassed Her Highness during her-” ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~          Nightlight never found out if that plate of the garden cress linguini was of satisfactory consistency, because there was a much bigger problem with the meal – it was cold. When he presented her with the dish, Princess Luna announced, with utmost clarity, that were she ever to be presented with a cold plate that should have been warm, she would not only find a new Royal Chef, but also a new Lunar Hoofservant. He should have, it seemed, known better than to accept an unsatisfactory meal. What could possibly possess him to think such a meal was acceptable for the lips of royalty, she asked.          When he finally managed to stutter out that it had been hot at first, and had only cooled while he’d been searching for the Princess, she went ballistic. It wasn't even partially the fault of the chefs, but entirely his fault – if he’d been faster, he’d never have missed her; if he’d been smarter he’d have realized where she’d gone; if he’d even thought to ask her librarian, they could’ve told him where she was.          Nightlight didn’t mention that he had asked the librarians. He simply apologized (like he had so many times already), bowed, and returned to the kitchens. ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~          “BUCKING HAY! ARE YOU ASLEEP?!” A brusque voice and an equally brusque hoof assaulted the young steward, violently rousing him from his unintentional dozing. Noon Nap proceeded to wrench the colt’s head up by his lengthy mane, forcing him to look Star Quill in the eye. “Can’t you do anything right?!”          Brutally tired, and with a terseness to match, Nightlight didn’t have his career much in mind when he answered. “No, or else I wouldn’t have taken this jo-” Then it struck him: ‘I never did take this job.’ The young steward began fuming, jaw clicking shut and as he coldly eyed the other two ponies with indignation.          Neither pony was pleased with his outburst. “What was that?”          Replaced by adrenaline, his fatigue evaporated; Nightlight’s mind began to race. ‘They didn’t give me a choice. Nopony gave me a choice. What the hay? They had to know I’d fail. They set me up for this. I’m their scapegoat. Nap, Quill, and Slopes especially, they’re all to blame. They knew whoever they’d assign would fail. So they chose me. Just threw me under a chariot. Just…’ He made a decision. “No.”          “What?”          “No,” he reaffirmed coolly. “Just no. I didn’t agree to take this job, you forced it on me. You said you gave me the chance to refuse, but I don’t think that’s actually true.” He stomped a frail hoof down; it wasn’t particularly loud, but it conveyed his message well enough. “Why should I have to do this? Why pick me for this job?! Why should I be the one to take the fall!?”          Unsurprisingly, Star Quill did not have an answer.          Noon Nap fared slightly better in the face of unexpected resistance. Upon the realization that the Head Night Steward was frozen he simply asserted, “Because it’s your job. You’re a Night Steward, and she’s the Princess of the Night.”          That wasn’t good enough for Nightlight, and he said so. “Clop you. You’re a Night Steward, too, aren’t you? You do it.”          Noon Nap gave a dramatic shrug, further exaggerated by the unfurling of his wings. “Improper coloring, unacceptable cutie mark, disrespectful to authority, lazy. No qualities good for a royal servant,” he declared with unsympathetic neutrality. Then his eyes narrowed bitterly. “So clop you.”          “What about her?” the dark steward demanded, thrusting a hoof towards the now-scowling mare. “Grey coat. Star in her cutie mark,” he stated succinctly.          The Head Night Steward finally responded to the ruckus forming around her. “My job,” she declared caustically, “is more important than yours. The Night Stewards are less harmed by losing you than by losing me.”          “Is that so?” he snapped crossly. “Then I quit. It’s no great loss.” With that, he strode out of the office and back towards his own quarters, ignoring the demands of his superiors. They could do whatever, for all he cared – he was going back to sleep. ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ Nightlight was not able to convince Head Chef Ala Mode to prepare another serving of his linguini. In fact, nopony was able to convince Ala Mode of anything, because the stallion had finally retired for a tiny portion of the night. It was about three-thirty in the morning, and anypony still awake was either a part of the night staff or crazy. ‘Maybe both,’ the desperate servant bemoaned, considering his condition. “Why am I doing this again?”          He very nearly dropped his plate of noodles when somepony actually answered him. “Doing what? You mean talking to yourself?” queried a languid, feminine voice. “Stress, probably.”          After restarting his heart and catching his breath, Nightlight managed to locate the voice’s source – a midnight blue unicorn sitting awkwardly (‘Ponies are not meant to sit that way,’) on the nearest counter. She was playing absentmindedly with her orange tail, flicking it occasionally to reveal a crimson-colored full moon for a cutie mark and a very attractive flank. “Uhh, no I – well, yes, that too, but that’s not what I meant. I mean, why am I bothering to – wait.” He cut himself off abruptly, suddenly realizing that the unicorn in front of him looked very familiar.          The blue mare seemed unmindful of the sudden tonal shift in Nightlight’s voice. “Why you’re bothering to wait?” she intoned lackadaisically. “Well, patience is a virtue, isn’t it? That seems like a good reason-”          “No, wait. You’re Luna’s Royal Chef aren’t you?”  That’s why she looked familiar, he was willing to bet money. She’d been the first pony Snowy Slopes had called into his office this evening. “Harvest Moon, wasn’t it?”          She yawned quietly. “That’s me. And you’re the pony that’s been fighting with Ala Mode all night - Luna’s fancy steward, right? What brings you here? Again, I mean. Because you were already here. Thrice. Or maybe more – I might’ve been asleep.”          A surge of jealousy shot through Nightlight – sleep was starting to sound really good right about now, being that the wakeful, pepperminty side effect of that sobriety spell was starting to wear. He, unfortunately, didn’t have the chance of getting away with sleeping on the job tonight, not when Princess Luna had tasked him however many times to bring her food. Speaking of which… “Maybe you can help me.”          She cocked her head to the side slightly, a vague, airy smile appearing on her face. “Help? Sure, I guess. What’s the problem?”          Nightlight almost did a little dance right there. Here, finally, was a pony who was willing to help him. “I need you to cook me a plate of pasta.”          She slid from her position and onto all four hooves without a sound. “Okay. What kind?” She nabbed a pot hanging from a hook in the ceiling and went to fill it with water.          “The garden cress linguini, please. Firmer than usual.” He slid the old plate of pasta to the counter besides her, as if to serve as an example. “And thank you.”          “Hmm?” Harvest Moon didn’t turn much to face the other servant, although she didn’t seem to be focusing on the ingredients she was throwing from the pantry, either. “Oh, sure. It’s no problem at all. Cooking is…” The dark unicorn cocked her head quizzically, pausing in her work. “It’s fun? I think fun is the right word. Maybe.” Knife in her teeth, Harvest shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly as she began to carelessly slice some mushrooms; they soon joined their fellow ingredients in pasta. “I don’t like going the whole night without cooking anything. It makes me feel… Bored? No, maybe unfulfilled…” she trailed off inattentively, staring awkwardly at the pot in front of her. “On that subject, do you like potatoes in your linguini? On the subject of filling that is. Because potatoes are filling…” Nightlight had to stop her as she trotted to the pantry. “Umm… no. But thank you,” he professed, attempting to sound grateful for the offer. “It’s just, I’m not sure that Her Highness Luna would really enjoy such… innovative fare on her first night back.” At this comment, Harvest Moon’s visage became one of either distress or nausea. Nightlight wasn’t sure. “Umm, are you alright?”          Harvest turned around, facing him listlessly. “This pasta – you meant it to be for the Princess?”          After going through the strangest twelve hours of his live, Nightlight was not in the least struck by the peculiarity of the question. “Yes, it –”          “Oh,” she said flatly, promptly shifting the pot of noodles from the burner and covering them. “I can’t help you, if that’s the case. Sorry.” This was followed by a lethargic mosey back to the pantry. “Might as well try out the potato linguini, though,” she called, reappearing with a pair of russets and one yam clutched under a hoof.          “Wait. What? N-no,” he began to stutter. “Why?”          Harvest casually flipped her bowl cut mane out of her eyes to better examine the potatoes she’d begun cutting, only to have it fall right back into place. “I’m not supposed to cook for the Princess. Only Mr. Mode is allowed.” In an act of absolute finality, she dumped the sliced spuds into the pot with the noodles. “They’re afraid my food will be too… did you call it innovative? That’s a nice word. Maybe you’re nice. But no, the Head Chef is Princess Luna’s actual Royal Chef, they told me, at least until they find a Royal Chef who’s less innovative. I just have the title. Do you want some, though?” she offered, pointing a hoof towards her creation. “It might be good. Maybe.”          ‘Hoof, meet mouth,’ Nightlight grumbled to himself, ignoring the offer. ‘So that’s why I never saw her so far tonight,’ he realized all too late. ‘Well this is typical, isn’t it? I’m that close to success and now... I wonder whose idea this was. Not that it would really make a difference.’ No, right now he had to focus on getting the Princess her food, and ignore the stupidity of the whole situation. ‘Which is unfortunate, because there’s a lot of it. The entire thing is just so trivial. I mean, the midnight meal – is it that important for it to be perfect? Really?’ Yes, she was a goddess, and a princess, and yes, she deserved the best, but for the life of him, he couldn’t understand what the big deal was. ‘I mean, the third was cold, but certainly the first and second plates were good enough, weren’t they?’ But they weren’t.          Sighing to himself and hoping the suggestion would be enough (after all, Harvest Moon had seemed so reasonable just moments prior), he asked amiably, “You couldn’t just, I don’t know, fix a plate for the Princess and not tell anypony? Or blame me for it? Tell them I made you do it?”          “No,” she answered flatly, now adding olives and beets to the linguini. “I’m not allowed to fix food for Princess Luna. That’s the rule, he said.” She began chopping a couple stalks of celery, only to turn her nose up halfway through and pitch it aside. “Not fresh. Do we have anything else?”          The young steward argued in vain as Harvest Moon trotted once more to the pantry to search for ingredients. “Can’t you just ignore the rule? I mean, Princess Luna needs her food. She’s more important that whoever gave you this rule, right?”          “No,” came back the call. “Well, yes, but it’s because Princess Luna’s important that I can’t break this rule. Last time I broke a rule, fifteen guards got food-poisoning. Or was it fifty? I always get those two mixed up.”          “Yes, but…” it was actually very hard to argue with her on this point. Poisoning the Ruler of the Night was the very last thing he wanted to do right now, and judging from the Royal Chef’s ingredient selection (she was currently lugging out a bag of peanuts), Luna would’ve been happier with no food than this dish. But it did nothing to make his position any better. “Well what am I supposed to do now?”          “No clue. It sounds like you’re bucked, unless you want to wake up Ala Mode. What was wrong with that one?” She procured a wooden ladle in her teeth and pointed it at the plate on the counter. “Looks good to me, if a bit plain.”          His tone made it clear that he considered the answer self-evident. “It’s cold.”          “Tch. So?”          ‘Now that really should be obvious,’ he told himself, watching Harvest add one third of a strawberry to the pasta. Only a tiny fraction of his self-restraint remaining, he snapped, “The Princess does not like cold food.”          “So heat it up.”          “I’m not going to just micr- huh.” That… actually seemed like a surprisingly good idea. “Where’s the microwave?” he asked, magically grasping the cold plate.          The Royal Night Chef opened her mouth in shock, causing her to drop her spoon into the boiling pot. She didn’t even notice. “What? Microwave? Oh no. Nononono. No. You can’t microwave royal food. Use magic. It’s much better. You get more even heating and less damage to the food.”          It would’ve been good advice, except for one problem. “I don’t know how to heat food magically. I wouldn’t really call it a garden-variety spell. Where’s the microwave?”          Harvest Moon refused to answer him, shaking her head vigorously. “Well unless you’re a gardener, I wouldn’t expect that to make any difference. It’s kitchen-variety. So any baker, chef, cook, cusinier, or meal-maker knows it. Any one worth her salt, at least.”          “So? I’m a steward, not a… any of those. Please, where’s the microwave?”          “But I’m not a steward,” she answered back. “I am a kitchen pony. And probably a unicorn. Ergo, I probably know kitchen spells. Ergo, I probably know how to heat your food. Probably with magic.”          Nightlight finally ran out of patience. “Which doesn’t help me, because you won’t make food for the Princess! Just tell me where the microwave is!”          Harvest Moon was unfazed by the outburst, responding with the same awkward serenity that possessed all her actions. “That’s not breaking any rules,” she professed, trying to figure out how to continue stirring her linguini-concoction.          “Wh… you won’t make her fresh food, but you’ll reheat other food. Really?”         “Sure, why not?” She eventually found another spoon, used it to fish the dropped one from the boiling pasta, and resumed her stirring with the original ladle now in her teeth.          “Really?!” he demanded more than asked. “What’s the difference?” “Enormous,” she explained around the spoon. “Heating food isn’t making food, is it?” The blue unicorn turned away from Nightlight, added about twenty dashes of garlic powder to the pot and resumed stirring. Her voice dropped several decibels. “Although… you have to heat food to cook food to make food… Sometimes. Normally. But not always. And cooking is part of the making process. For most foods, at least. You don’t have to cook salad. But this isn’t salad. But it’s already been made, so it doesn’t matter. So if it’s already been made, it can’t be remade, maybe…”          Nightlight tuned out the rest of the chef’s monologue as he contemplated the chef’s strange double standard. ‘There’s no time for that.’ If he didn’t hurry, the Princess might go somewhere other than the Night Steward Offices, and then her food would get cold by the time he found her. Time was of the essence, and his piqued words made it clear. “Fine. Then, just warm it up already.”          “No.”          “Of all the- Why not?!”          “Because you’re being mean. Probably. Maybe I just don’t feel like it, but the former’s more likely.” She scratched her chin as if she was actually uncertain. “Hmm… or maybe I’m the mean one for not caring. Do I care at all?.” She returned to her stirring, not even realizing that the mixture was no longer boiling – she’d never put it back on the burner. “Care at all… Carrot all… Carrots…”          Nightlight had had enough. This pony was crazy. Everypony was crazy.          Nightlight was crazy for even trying this job. Noon Nap and Star Quill were crazy for thinking he’d listen to them when he had to deal with the princess. Snowy Slopes was crazy for thinking that he could do this job (or did he?). Ala Mode was crazy for clopping stubbornness. Harvest Moon was crazy for… well, she was just crazy. But most of all, Princess Luna was crazy. She expected him to know everything about the castle, to know exactly what she wanted, to know where she was and where she intended to be, and to know it all yesternight. She expected perfection in everything, from everypony, and all the time. She expected the impossible. ‘It was probably what drove her mad in the first place.’ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~          The anti-light spell he’d attached to his bed was still functioning, as witnessed by the gloomy state of the room and his internal clock screaming that it was not yet time for him to wake up. If he had to guess, it was nearly eleven ante meridian, and he felt like he’d been killed and reheated.          ‘No, death warmed over would be an understatement.’ Nightlight felt like he’d been dragged through the bowels of Tartarus by an angry Discord before being killed and resuscitated. Twice. The hoof repeatedly jabbing him in the ribs didn’t make matter better. Not even opening his eyes, he growled for the offender to buck off. “I’m sleeping. Get the hay out.”          Nightlight’s insubordination was met with an unveiled threat. “If you do not get up immediately, I’ll call the guards and have you thrown out of the castle. Get up,” Star Quill barked.          Threats did not give him the urge to show his boss any more respect, and it certainly didn’t inspire obedience. “Which they’ll be thrilled about, because you made them drag me all the way to the castle twelve hours ago. Go away.”          A pleasant period of silence ensued, in which the young stallion started to believe the conversation was finished. He was dragged back from half-slumber by the older mare’s shrill voice. “Allow me to make this clear, colt: if you do not show me the respect I merit, you’ll find yourself without a job when you wake up.”          “You know what? I don’t give a flying feather.” The young unicorn simply rolled over and went back to sleep. ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~          A microwave was not fit for the heating of a princess’ food, asserted Harvest Moon whilst blocking the small appliance corporally. Nor, she continued to assert, would she do the job for a mean pony like Nightlight. Even when faced with the fact that the job was for Princess Luna, and Nightlight was simply the one explaining it, she maintained her stance, claiming that she didn’t see the difference.          “So you won’t cook fresh food for the Princess because your boss told you not to, and you won’t let me use the microwave because Princess Luna deserves better, but you won’t heat this food yourself, because I’m mean?”          She nodded with surprising enthusiasm, smiling as she answered, “My, my. You have a better grasp of the situation than I normally do. Are you hungry?” She ladled out a serving of her strange concoction, using magic to float a plate to the young steward. “You should probably eat something.” She spooned out another plate for herself and began munching away at the colorful creation. “Hmm… seems lacking.”          Lacking was not the term he would have used to describe the crowded fare. In fact, Nightlight couldn’t help but turning his nose up at the strange assortment aromas wafting from the dish. He slid the plate away and gently replaced it with a much more normal and much colder one of his own. “Maybe later. More importantly, what am I supposed to do about this?”          “I don’t know. Eat it, too?” she offered with her mouth full. “I normally think better when I’m full. And I’m less grumpy, too.”          “That’s… just… ugh.” He slumped his head onto the table Harvest had somehow gotten him to sit down at. “No, for crying out loud, I can’t eat it. The princess asked for her food hours ago. At this rate it’ll be sunrise by… the… time…” An unpleasant notion began struck Nightlight. ‘Oh buck.’ “Hey, Harvest?”          “Hmm?” she inquired, flat noodles trailing out of her mouth.          “What time does breakfast begin?”          She gulped noisily, swallowing an enormous mouthful before answering. “You mean when Mr. Ala Mode starts making it? I don’t know. Soon, I guess. Why don’t you just ask him?” Upon seeing the confused look on the dark steward’s face, she pointed a hoof over his shoulder, towards the entrance to the kitchens.          ‘Please don’t mean what I think you mean.’ Hoping against hope, Nightlight craned his head around to find a grumpy, green, and only half-awake earth pony marching into the kitchens like he owned them. Which, all things considered, wasn’t entirely inaccurate.          ‘Well, maybe he could actually-’          “You,” muttered the cross chef, striding up to the table Nightlight was sitting at. “Get out of my kitchen immediately. I don’t want to ever lay eyes on you while I’m at work, and I’d better not catch you around here again.”          Or not. “Fine.” Grabbing Luna’s pasta in his telekinesis, the colt finally resigned himself to leaving without accomplishing his task – and therefore to another verbal barrage from Princess Luna. He slid from his seat and went out to try to find Luna, dragging his hooves all the way.          It did not make Ala Mode any happier. In fact, he continued his angry tirade as Nightlight walked by. “All you do is get in the way and make things harder for everypony. How am I supposed to accomplish my duties when you’re wasting my time? I’m supposed to be creating fabulous dishes-”          Nightlight tuned the angry chef out entirely. ‘Funny,’ he considered, ‘how easy it is. All a matter of perspective, I guess.’ It probably was; nothing matched up to the ferocious tone of an angry goddess. ‘I wonder if he can actually tell I’m not listening-’          A much higher pitched voice suddenly intruded upon his consciousness as another pony began to speak. “I… I’m sorry,” she lamented, voice cracking. “I, I, I…”          It quickly dawned on the young unicorn that he wasn’t the pony Ala Mode had been talking to. In fact, the head chef might not have even noticed his presence. “I don’t care if you’re sorry. I’ve told you not to be in my kitchens when I’m on duty, and here you are! You’re useless! Why do you expect the right to cook for divinity when you can’t even follow simple orders?”          “But I can follow orders,” she tried explaining woefully. “You told me not to fix food for them and I didn’t-”          “I don’t care! Get out! Get out now, and don’t come back! I’ll be talking to Slopes about a new assistant today, mark my words!”          Nightlight soon found himself standing outside the kitchens’ main entrance with a sobbing Harvest Moon and a plate of linguini no warmer than it had been sixty minutes prior. ‘This night just gets better and better.’ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ The day was improving similarly, Nightlight decided, another hoof rousing him from his sleep. The fact that it wasn’t his alarm clock meant somepony else had taken it upon themselves to worsen his life, and that Star Quill might have actually made good on her threat. Whatever the case, Nightlight didn’t bother to open his eyes. If the guards wanted to throw him out of the castle so be it; he was too tired to care any less. “I’m awake,” he alleged coolly. “What?”          “I need to talk to you Mr. Nightlight,” announced a deep voice.          Only one pony called him ‘Mr. Nightlight’, only one pony spoke in that incredibly calm voice, and there was only one pony that Star Quill would go to with her problems. The word of the Head Steward was law in Castle Canterlot. Nightlight’s eyes shot open and he rolled out of bed with far less grace than he’d have liked. “Sir?” he asked, struggling to untangle himself from his sheets. “What brings you?”          The fact of the matter was, he already knew what brought this pony to his room. Until this year’s Summer Sun Celebration, Snowy Slopes was arguably the second most powerful pony in Equestria. He was certainly not an important pony – amongst the Canterlot elite very few knew his name and fewer still recognized him for his clout, but the fact remained that only Celestia herself had a greater say in the castle’s goings-on than Head Steward Slopes. He was responsible for every aspect of Sun Princess’ affairs, including attending to her schedule, the budget, her well-being, and even her hygiene. He was responsible for everything – every action performed by every servant and every employee of the estate, and that included Nightlight. Snowy Slopes was here because horseapples rolled uphill.          The hoary old unicorn wasted no time in getting to business. “I understand you intend to quit your job. Is this correct?”          His mind had been made up hours ago. “Yessir. I, uh, was informed I could quit at the end of the night, if I so desired,” he explained softly, taking advantage of his bedhead to avoid looking his boss in the eyes.          “Hmm. Really?” His tone was thoughtful more than suspicious. “I suppose these were Ms. Quill’s words?”          “Yessir. She also said I could, uhh, quit earlier, should I turn in a resignation to her Highness in person.”          “Yes, that does sound like her, doesn’t it? Well, just to make things clear, if you quit your current position, you won’t have a spot amongst the castle staff. You’ll lose your job with the stewards, you understand?”          He’d been expecting as much from the beginning. “Yessir.”          “Fine. You were supposed to report to me upon the completion of your duties last night, but I suppose under the current conditions I no longer have much authority over you, do I?” An unpleasantly pregnant pause followed. “Umm… no sir?”          This answer seemed satisfactory. “Very well. I hereby accept your resignation from the castle staff, Mr. Nightlight. Consider yourself dismissed.” The Head Steward began exiting only to stop himself in the doorframe. “Mr. Nightlight,” he called, turning back to face the young pony once more, “do you have somewhere to live?”          He was already sliding back into his bed, and didn’t bother stopping when he replied. “I’ll probably move back with my parents, sir. They live in the city.”          Slopes didn’t leave. “And what if that doesn’t work?”          “Umm…” He hadn’t actually given any more thought to the subject – there was no reason his parents would turn him away, considering how they seemed to support Red, but he had other options as well. “Move in with my oldest sister, maybe.” He turned back around. “Well, in that case everything seems to be in order. I imagine you need some sleep, and we’ll fill the paperwork out tomorrow. I’ll expect your room to be vacated by six pm tomorrow.” Nightlight was asleep before his door was shut.   ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~   A remarkably simple solution presented itself once Celestia’s personal chef ejected Harvest Moon from the kitchens. ‘The funny thing about being a plothole is that you don’t endear yourself to others,’ Nightlight considered, trotting through the castle’s corridors with a (finally) piping-hot plate of garden cress linguini. It had actually been a simple task to convince the distraught night chef that Ala Mode didn’t care if she followed his rules, and certainly wouldn’t know if she broke this one. Her response had been to cast the requested spell and to mope off to the castle’s cellars. His response was to once more attempt stalking down the Lunar Princess. He tried the Night Stewards’ Office first. Unsurprisingly, the room’s only occupant was a shell-shocked Star Quill, but it was the place to start. “Ma'am? Where’d the princess go?” he asked as casually as he could, not wanting to inflame his supervisor. If she heard him speak, she gave no sign to suggest it. The dark mare simply stared at the wall opposite her.          He tried again, slightly louder. “Umm, Mrs. Quill? Do you know where the princess went? I’m trying to find her?”          No answer.          He marched right up in front of the desk and shouted, beginning to fear this would be a repeat of his last search. “Mrs. Quill!”          Still no answer.          “WAKE THE BUCK UP!”          She spluttered to consciousness. “Huh?! Why, that, you. What’s the meaning of this, colt?!”          ‘I don’t have time for this.’ He stomped a hoof on the ground. “Get your act together, Mrs. Quill! You were chewed out by the princess, that’s all!”          She tried to interrupt. “Don’t you-”          Nightlight wasn’t about to let her. He was fed up with everypony that had made his job difficult this night, and there had been a lot. Before the older steward got two words into her harangue, he snapped. “NO! I don’t have time for this! Just tell me where the princess is, so I can finally give her this stupid bucking food that I’ve been trying to bucking give to her the entire bucking night! It’s because of a dozen clopheads like you trying to stop me and distract me and getting in my way that I can’t get my job done! If I’m late with this, she’s just going to yell at me again, and then she’ll have it out on you again, too!” This last exclamation saw Star Quill wince, meaning he was probably on the right track with the argument. “Just tell me where the hay she is, or where she went, and you can deal with me in the morning!”          The prospect of deferring Nightlight until the morning must have been very attractive for her to agree as readily as she did. “She went upwing,” the fuming mare barked, pointing a hoof deeper into the wing of the castle. “Probably towards her chambers.”          “Thank y-”          “Get the clop out.”          He didn’t need to be told twice. Nightlight turned tail and galloped towards Luna’s room. Upon skidding to halt before the towering mahogany doors and single charcoal-coated earth pony guard, Nightlight- ‘Ehh? Guard? As in singular? What the hay?’ Sure enough, only the right-hoof guard was present, his compliment nowhere to be seen. He wouldn’t have noticed it if both had been absent (after all, the doors had remained unguarded for the last thousand years), but with only one guard, the scene was entirely unbalanced.          “Umm, sir? What happened?” No answer. “Sir? I’m the princess’ hoofservant,” he explained with a sigh. “If you would please, what happened and where did she go?”          The austere-looking stallion turned his head a fraction of an inch to look at the pony that had addressed him; Nightlight could’ve sworn he saw clichéd, masculine tears welling in the guard’s eyes. “Her Highness relieved us both from duty. She said we were unfit to be members of the Guard, and that we were disgraceful to Equestria and especially to Her. My partner left to find other ponies to take up the post.”          It was probably the wrong response, but Nightlight couldn’t help it. “Wow. That’s just… wow. But why are you still here?”          “This post must not be abandoned; I will remain here until my relief arrives.”          “But she… dismissed you? Doesn’t that mean-” “Lunar Hoofservant,” the sentinel interrupted with cold fire in his voice, “even if I am not… acting in my capacity as one of the Guard, I am still a citizen of Equestria. It is the duty of every citizen to serve the princess, or princesses as the case may be, to the utmost of his or her capacity, and I intend to defend this post until I believe it will be safe in my absence.”          “Oh. My… okay. How, uh, how long ago did your partner leave?”          The guardspony narrowed his gaze. “Do you see a clock around here?”          He didn’t. “Good point,” he admitted, suppressing a yawn. “S-sorry about that. Well, um, do you know where the princess went from here?”          The stern-looking earth pony nodded curtly. “The dining hall, I believe.”          “Ah. Breakfast.” Clop.          “So I would assume.”          “Thanks.”          “Don’t mention it.” With that, the gold-barded guard resumed his normal posture, returning to eerie stillness.          Nightlight dashed to the dining hall, optimistic that his journey was nearing an end. ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ “Are you Nightlight!? Please wake up! Wakeupwakeupwakeup! Please!” A filly’s frantic voice just barely roused him from his slumber. To make matters worse, she’d even turned on the lights. ‘Again.’ He didn’t even open his eyes. “Ugh... yeah. That’s me. What?”         “You’re Princess Luna’s Conso- I, I, I mean Hoofservant, and -” Her voice actually sounded cute, if slightly nasal. He actually considered opening his eyes, just to check what she looked like. “What time is it?”          “It’s six eleven!” she wailed. “I need you! Please!”          ‘Six eleven?’ Nopony was that cute. “Whatever. Get out of my room.”          “So you can get up and get ready and stuff?”          “Sure.” He was back asleep before the door closed behind her. ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ According to the schedule Nightlight had been briefed on yesterday afternoon, breakfast was served at five thirty. At the moment, it was five twenty-nine. It stood to reason that she was already seated, waiting for her meal to be brought out, and was absolutely livid that she’d never gotten her pasta. Even as he sprinted across the castle (‘Why, oh why, is the dining hall so far from her chambers?’), he considered giving up. She was, after all, about to be presented with an entirely fresh meal – there was actually no reason to deliver the pasta.          Except for the fact that she was a goddess and she’d demanded it of him. Until Princess Luna allowed the moon to set, he was still her hoofservant, and he still had a job to do.          It was at five thirty-one that he finally arrived at the dining hall, the plate of still-warm linguini clutched in his tiring telekinesis. Stumbling into the ornate room, he was utterly thankful that yesterday evening’s crowd wasn’t present to see him gasping for breath, and the Princess Luna’s attention was absorbed by another pony.          “Return it to the sculleries directly!” she bellowed at a cowering earth pony bearing a bowl of oatmeal garnished with daisies and rose petals. “’Tis unfit for Our palate! And this,’ the alicorn yelled, magically hefting an artfully-arranged fruit platter, ‘It is not fare befitting a night’s labors!  Wherefore art there not savory and filling dishes, that We might sate the appetite which We have crafted since waking?! Go! Inform Our Royal Chef that her cuisine is intolerable!”          Finally unparalyzed when the princess paused, the terrified servant scurried from the room, somehow grasping two platters in his mouth and three more on his back, leaving Nightlight and the Lunar Princess alone in the hall. ‘It’s now or never, I guess.’ He quietly approached, gathering the courage to attract her attention, only to freeze when she spoke first. “Foolish ponies,” she muttered to herself, “It may have been a thousand years, but it’s not that hard to figure out, is it?”          ‘Oh Discord, I’m not supposed to hear this. The longer she speaks, the madder she’ll be when she finds out I’m listening. Oh Goddesses, oh Goddesses…’ It didn’t take long before his fear of speaking was outweighed by his fear of remaining silent. Finally swallowing the lesser of his fears, Nightlight found a little bit of his voice. “Umm… your Highness? I have, uhh, have your meal.” With the best bow he could manage, he slid the plate of linguini onto the table in front of her, and pasted his eyes to the floor, hardly daring to look at her. Silenced reigned in the dining hall for nigh on a minute, her staring at the presented dish and him bearing similar scrutiny upon the marble floor. ‘Celestia, Luna, Discord, Stars, please please please don’t be mad at me.’            “Hoofservant.”          ‘Please please please.’ He gulped nervously and opened a single eye towards the sable princess. “Your Highness?”          “The chambermaids inadequately attended to Our boudoir this night – ensure it's cleanliness and organization before We retire. Thou art then to reconvene at the Astral Dais prior to Moonset.”          “Uh, y-yes, Princess. Right away.” Dumbfounded, he took a couple steps backwards before he actually thought to turn around. ‘She’s… not mad?’          “Hoofservant,” she called once more. “We find Ourselves encircled by failure this night.” Her ominous tone froze his very blood. “Attend to this.” There was an implied ‘Or else,’ tacked on to the end.          “Y-y-yes ma’am.”          He left just as the earlier servant returned, impossibly carrying almost a dozen trays by himself. The echoes of her criticisms followed him, as he galloped back across the castle. “Other servants are equally inexperienced, yet they surpass thee in every regard! Hold them as thy standard, and perhaps thou might hope to become an adequate retainer sometime coming!” ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ “Night! Wake up!”          Six fourteen post meridian. It felt like he’d been up since yesterday. Why did it feel like he’d been up since yesterday? And why couldn’t he form coherent words? “Ugghaumflr. Whah?”          “Thank the Goddess! Goddesses, I mean! Didn’t May Ring come here?! Why are you still asleep!?” demanded yet another hysterical voice that Nightlight didn’t recognize. “You’re Luna’s hoofservant, aren't you? Get up!”          ‘Hoofservant?’ He snorted dismissively. “I quit. Find somepony else.”          “But you’re the only-”          “I said I quit!” he snarled, rolling over and away from the hooves trying to shake him awake. “Go away!” “But she said-”          “I don’t care. I quit.”          “But-”          “Quit!”          The frightened pony’s departure was marked by frantic galloping and the slamming of his door – he obviously had somewhere to be.          ‘Not that I care,’ Nightlight admitted to himself. He returned once more to sweet oblivion. ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ Upon arriving at Luna’s chambers (still just the one guard posted outside), Nightlight found them perfectly satisfactory. Beyond perfect, perhaps. The comfortable-looking bed was faultlessly made, the desk was thoroughly organized, and her bathroom was impeccably clean. He saw not a speck of dust nor a particle out of order.          His unintended sigh turned into a yawn as it escaped his throat. There was nothing amiss with this room, and he was much too tired to care. ‘Inadequate? Really?’ he pondered momentarily. The thought only lasted a moment because he realized it didn’t matter – he was done after moonset. ‘What could possibly be wrong? It's like her food - there was never anything wrong in the first place. Just… just Princess Luna being Princess Luna,’ he decided, taking a last look about the room before leaving. Then he noticed it. ‘Oh. Or not. Wow. How could they miss that? How did I miss that?’ The full length mirror beside the princess’ armoire was cracked. ‘In fact, how did that even happen?’ He could’ve sworn objects like these tended to have anti-shatter spells cast on them; why had this one gone unwarded?          ‘Don’t care.’ He was done after tonight, making this a mystery for somepony who was actually concerned about the castle’s gross budget – i.e. somepony else. All he cared about was cleaning up this nonsense and finishing for the night. Using his telekinesis, he carefully cleaned up the mess (after all, it wouldn’t do to leave even a sliver where Her Highness might step upon it) and hauled the – ‘How much does this thing weigh!?’          After thirty minutes of effort, confused looks from half a dozen other servants, and enough straining to give an older stallion a hernia, Nightlight finally managed to telekinetically drag the oversized mirror into the nearest unused room. His task accomplished, the young steward shut his eyes against the sunlight peaking through the windows and collapsed in a puddle of exhausted pony. “Huh, huh. You’re, some other pony’s, huh, problem now,” he panted at the mirror. “And buck you, huh, you’re not supposed to bucking break. Huh, huh. Uggh, I’ve gotta get into shape. Huh. But first...” First he had to finish the day.          He rolled onto his hooves and began to feebly cross the room, mentally cataloguing the last of his duties. ‘Tell somepony about the mirror (maybe), climb the Tall Tower (not looking forwards to that), meet Her at the Dais-’ That’s when is struck him - something was wrong. Something was terribly, terribly wrong. ‘The Dais. The day is...’ A quick glance out the room’s windows confirmed it. The stars were vanished, the moon had set, and a roiling blossom of orange and crimson was rising over the horizon. The day was. “Oh no.”          Teleportation not amongst his repertoire of spells, he was forced to sprint. ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ “NIGHTLIGHT!”          He cast a silence spell, warded his bed from approach, and for one last time today, went back to sleep. ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~          Luna’s scowl could have turned tides.          ‘Clop me with the moon.’          “Our instruction was that thou wert to arrive at the Astral Dais prior to the Moonset.”          “Y-y-y-yes, y-your Highness.”          “Thy recurrent lateness appears as a problem...”          “Y-y-y-yes, y-your Highness.”          “Wherefore is this?”          “...U-Uh, ummm.... what?” “Why art thou perpetually late?” ‘But... But...’ It took him several seconds to actually form a response. “I-I was cl-cl-cleaning your room, as you asked.”          “We did not command thee to clean our chambers,” she hissed. “Thy charge was ensurance that the task would be accomplished. A difference exists.”          “Y-your Highness?”          As impossible to believe as it was, her scowl deepened, cutting sharp creases in her otherwise perfect face. “Pay no heed; thou understandest not.” She shook her head wistfully, her spectral mane flowing lazily behind her. Was that disappointment on her face? “‘Tis morning, hoofservant. Retire for the day, and We shall resume this exchange upon evenfall.”          As the mighty alicorn ambled slowly towards her own chambers, Nightlight didn’t have the courage to tell her that, no, she wouldn’t see him this evening, despite knowing better.          He was wrong. ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ An impossibly loud voice pierced the abjurations of his silence spell. “HOOFSERVANT!”