//------------------------------// // Chapter 23 // Story: Down With the Pastryarchy // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// Organisation had saved the day. In the sound booth, Seville Orange worked to reassure everypony. Bundt Buttercream brought calm and some sense of order to the command center. The promise of being paid had done much to assuage the fears of the gathered great many. Already, the celebrity chefs had stopped by, and, when informed that a paycheck was coming, they had returned to patrol the floor—a major moment of relief, the sort where one could take a deep breath and have one’s various sphincters unclench. Twilight felt pretty good about herself, but was still angry: she still spoiled for a fight. The blood had only just begun to sing in her ears and her heart still hammered against the anvil of her ribs. It had been a while since the last big fight and Twilight thought about her ennui—her depression. Raining down death from above should not be a cure for depression, yet here she was, revelling in her own victory while lamenting that it wasn’t much of a fight at all. There was a problem, one that she wasn’t fully prepared to admit that she had. Being of a clever mind, Twilight understood there had to be a good reason why Celestia hadn’t made much headway on this issue and she was looking forward to gaining an understanding of why. She refused to believe it was because her mentor was incapable; no, clearly there were factors involved that Celestia kept to herself. Twilight, being the sort of pony she was, was almost giddy with the prospect of learning something new and exciting. “Majesty?” Her thoughts interrupted, Twilight turned to face the pegasus trying to get her attention. “I am Legal Dispatcher Booker Worthwood and I’m here to represent the legal interests of the collective whose assets you’ve acquired.” His ears pinned back, submissive, and he wore a well-practiced expression of utter passivity. These were new words to Twilight and she looked the passive pegasus in the eye. “Legal Dispatcher? Are you a lawyer?” “No.” The pegasus gave his head a gentle wag. “But I am a bit more than a notary public. Something in the middle. A legal clerk with considerable powers. My position as a dispatcher goes back to the earliest days of the Pegasus Pony Tribe. We were the messengers of war, the negotiators of peace, and the brokers of treaties. When Equestria was founded, we pegasus ponies chose to keep this position of mediation and we acted as the go-betweens for the unicorns and the earth ponies.” “Fascinating.” Twilight found herself quite curious. “This is the first time I’ve ever heard of this. Wait a tick… Worthwood… Worthwood… the famous earth pony family Worthwood? Tree farmers and maple syrup. One of the big families of Vanhoover.” “Princess Celestia recently took on our logging interests, our furniture factories, and our food services division.” Booker’s ears stood up and there was a bright twinkle in his eye. Just as Twilight was about to say something in defense of her mentor, Booker continued, “It was the greatest day of my life. I’d really like to have the chance to thank her face to face, but I stay very busy.” All of Twilight’s would-be words escaped in a confused huff. Perhaps because of the confused expression that Twilight now wore, the pegasus laughed, a gentle, inoffensive sound, a neutral laugh of peculiar quality. Twilight, being Twilight, recovered herself rapidly and put on her best, most confident, most self-assured smile. Then, she too laughed a bit, because, why not? Booker seemed friendly enough and his professional demeanour was quite pleasant. “You’ll have to forgive me, Mister Worthwood, but I’ve only ever heard negatives about Princess Celestia’s efforts to take on businesses that grow large enough to be threatening. To be quite honest, I just got done hearing about how somepony was going to be down and out… destitute. I’ve only ever heard negative sentiment.” One of Booker’s wings extended and he began rubbing his chin while giving Twilight a thoughtful look. “Yes, I would imagine that most would have nothing positive to say. My family paid for my extensive education and when I completed school, I was contractually obligated to work for them… as many in the family are. My debt was leveraged against me and I became an indentured bondspony. I was an asset, little more, and I was ruthlessly exploited. There wasn’t anything I could do about it until my debts were paid… but… my debt kept growing as the years went on. I was provided with a very nice apartment and office space and what have you. I had to pay the cost of rent and other services.” Alarmed, Twilight could not help it, but her first thoughts were of Seville’s parents. The Orange family also operated a trust, a leftover, a holdout from Equestria’s feudalistic era. Seville’s parents were happy; they were well provided for and from her own estimation, were not exploited in any way. There was a mutually beneficial agreement between families—but it did not change the fact that the Oranges owned some of their kin, at least in a broad sense. “When Princess Celestia tore apart my family’s interests, she dissolved my debts. I was set free. Of course, I was also homeless and didn’t have a bit to my name, but for some reason, I couldn’t muster up any hard feelings about what she had done. So, here I am. Working as a dispatcher for those slimeballs. I’m not keen on it, but it pays the bills.” “So, I suppose I need to sign some stuff?” Twilight asked. “Here’s the thing,” Booker replied. “You don’t have to sign. The Crown has a guarantee for its debts. Signing your name to the contracts is optional. If you do, it holds you responsible, rather than the Crown. It is a matter of entity. You are both Princess Twilight Sparkle and Twilight Sparkle, two distinct legal entities. But if you sign these papers at all, with either signature, you seperate yourself from the Crown as a guaranteer. It would mean that you could be held accountable in a court of law should something go awry. I was asked to pressure you into signing… a number of parties believed you to be naive enough and they had hopes of causing a disturbance, no doubt.” “I see.” Twilight too, began to rub her chin with her wing. “Why tell me this?” “Because”—there was a long, thoughtful pause—“I am sick of working with scumbags.” “Uh-huh.” Nodding her head, Twilight added, “You mentioned that dispatchers acted as messengers of war.” “Mine was once a noble profession.” Booker sounded miserable, wistful, and hopeful all at the same time. “Well, as it just so happens, I am transitioning into the business of war.” Twilight’s head ceased nodding and she looked Booker right in the eye. “I’ll be frank. Domestic policy is about to take it right in the keister. I find myself in need of a messenger… of war. A herald of my inevitable coming and the destruction I shall leave in my wake.” “Oh… delightful.” “Mister Worthwood, how would you feel about working with decent ponies?” A guarded expression crept over Booker’s face and he took a step backwards. “Why me? Why ask me? We just met.” “You didn’t have to tell me not to sign those papers. I am a bit naive. I had no idea that I might get myself into trouble by signing. There’s a lot I still don’t know.” Twilight could feel the weight of the crown upon her head even though she wasn’t wearing it. “As a princess, you have the right to command me to work for you. As a dispatcher, I could not refuse you. You wouldn’t have to pay me.” “Why tell me this?” Twilight asked while she took on a more guarded stance. “I no longer wish to be a caged bird,” Booker replied. “You are in a unique position to exploit me. In a very technical, very legal sense, I am unable to refuse you.” “Oh. I see.” A heaving sigh escaped from the confines of Twilight’s barrel. “That presents a problem, because I need employees who can tell me when I’m wrong, or if I am making a mistake, or tell me ‘no’ if the situation demands it.” For some reason, Twilight thought of Raven. Brave little Raven did more than tell Celestia ‘no.’ Shrugging, she continued, “I am about to take on a tremendous amount of responsibility. I have need of trusted advisors… and a dispatcher. I rather like the idea of having a messenger of war.” “Say if I was to work for you,” Booker said to Twilight while his wings made agitated fidgets. “Would it be contract work?” “Oh no, I’d need you all day, every day. I’d hire you as a retainer. You’d work exclusively for me and nopony else. You’d get a salary. I hesitate to mention this, but a different set of labour laws apply to positions beneath the Crown. Technically, you’d always be on the clock and during times of crisis, the work day has no standardised set of hours. It is a different sort of work environment. But the pay is good.” “Could I relocate?” “Do you want to relocate?” “Goodness, yes. Las Pegasus is killing me. I have to keep taking out loans just to make rent. I have a wife and son… and a daughter is on the way. I don’t want them here, but Las Pegasus was where I was able to find work. I hear Ponyville is nice.” “I’ll pay for your relocation—and that doesn’t mean you’re indebted to me, either.” Twilight’s brows furrowed. “I’ll also pay off any outstanding loans you might have. This is for my own interests. I don’t want outside parties having sway over you while you’re in my employ.” “I don’t know what to say.” “Please, say yes. But only if you can also tell me no. Say yes now so you can tell me no later. Please, come work with decent ponies. I just hired a porn star.” Booker’s eyebrow raised. “It’s a long story,” Twilight offered in explanation. “But she needed a change of pace too. Now she works for decent ponies.” “Fair enough.” “Well?” “I’ll do it. Once we’re finished sorting out paperwork and I return said paperwork to my clients, I’m available.” “Good, I’ll make arrangements for you to move to Ponyville right away. Once I’m home, I plan to get started. Time to shake down some scumbags.” Twilight grinned and saw it reflected in the face of her brand-new friend. “Well, let’s go sort out this paperwork and then I’ll introduce you to my newly hired assistant, Miss Buttercream.” Payroll was now secured, guaranteed by the Crown, and a new payroll service provider had been retained. A new contract for continued use of the Moondust as a venue was hammered out; as it turned out, The Moondust Resort & Casino was eager to re-establish the contracts for the bake-off and did so without requesting a fee, which Twilight felt was exceptionally, extraordinarily nice of them. They even covered the cost of the legal filing. With the help of Booker Worthwood, insurance had been re-established and everypony involved with the event, from bakers to boom operators were now protected in the event of a mishap. The transition was far less painful than Twilight thought it would be, but then again, Booker had done so much to smooth everything out. Already, before the ink had even dried, he had proven his worth and Twilight knew—she knew that she had lucked out. This was turning out to be a fortunate trip. Even the closing ceremony with Sapphire Shores had been retained! Clutching a cup of coffee in her fetlock—and doing so without thinking about it or otherwise realising that she wasn’t using magic—Twilight looked around at the eager, hopeful faces of those in the command center. Jobs—had been saved. The day—had been saved. The bake-off—had been saved. How many lives had just been impacted? How many ponies would be able to pay rent for yet another month? All in all, she felt pretty good about herself. Yes, she had done some mighty fine princessing. “Applewood Studios just sent a telegram,” a breathless earth pony said as he stumbled through the door. “They’re keeping the old terms! Nothing changes. We’re good to go! Film distribution rights are a-go! The Cinematography Union approves!” A cheer rose from the mouths of many and Twilight found herself caught up in the moment. Leaning back in her chair, she allowed herself to feel good about this. She deserved it. And yet… the bake-off was not truly saved. This was the last one. The last great production. Having everything fall apart and then having to put it all back together gave Twilight a rare glimpse into the inner-workings of such an event. It was such a momentous undertaking… a truly colossal job. The fact that it took place at all was something of a miracle, at least by her own estimation. It was earth pony work-ethic put into practice. Sure, there were unicorns and pegasus ponies here—but, like the earth ponies, they worked hard. Everypony gave it their one-hundred and ten percent. Having experienced the event from behind the scenes gave Twilight a new appreciation—and a new sense of sadness that it was ending. After taking a sip of her coffee, Twilight addressed her two new assistants: “I couldn’t have done this without you. I understand that this is a rough start to a new job… but to be honest… this is the job. We’re going to go from one crisis to another.” “I think we can handle that,” Bundt replied while her front hooves came to rest upon the rounded swell of her stomach. “I don’t feel like I need a shower to wash away the slime.” Booker looked up from the paperwork spread out before him. “I need to fly these to city records. The permits have to be filed. We’re technically covered, but it becomes ironclad once everything is filed with the city. I also have to get everything squared away with the fire department still.” “Yeah, Mister Worthwood, stay on top of that. The Fire Marshall technically needs to come and reinspect because the venue has changed ownership. We’re supposed to be covered, but if there is a fire, this might be a headache later. Somepony might try to say the transition was negligent.” “I’m on it, Mrs. Sandstone. No slacking here.” “You got this.” “I got this.” Twilight found herself in agreement. “We’ve got this together!”