“From one princess to another, Twilight, I can’t really see why this is necessary.” Trixie preened her bat wings and fluttered her eyelashes at Twilight Sparkle.
Twilight rolled her eyes and gave Trixie an unimpressed glare. “Really? You don’t have any idea why you’re here under interrogation?”
“I didn’t say that,” Trixie replied loftily. “I just don’t think that we royals should need to resort to… whatever that is.” She waved a hoof towards the only object on the table, a glowing green gemstone as large as her head, set into a wrought copper framework.
“I already explained this, Trixie,” Twilight sighed. “It’s a verity crystal, and it’s only used in matters of great national importance where the courts think that certain individuals might be untrustworthy. That alone should give you a sense of what a sensitive situation you’re in!”
Trixie smiled cheerfully. “But you know I’m innocent, don’t you, Twilight?”
“No! I don’t!” Twilight exclaimed. “And the crystal should have turned red when you made a claim so obviously false as that!” She glared at the obstinately green artifact.
For the first time, Trixie showed some interest in the item. “Oh, so it doesn’t actually work on what’s really true?”
“Of course not,” scoffed Twilight. “No magic item could do that. We could instantly solve all the world’s mysteries if anything worked that way! No, verity crystals just listen to the words spoken around them, and indicate what the speaker believes.”
Trixie nodded thoughtfully. “And you know I’m innocent?” This time the crystal had shifted to glow an angry scarlet. She smiled broadly. “Aha. Yes, it looks like the difference is that you’ve told me, so I don’t believe it’s true any mo— Wait! You really don’t believe I’m innocent?!”
“It had to get through sooner or later,” Twilight muttered. “That’s right, Trixie. You could be in serious trouble here. You need to start taking this seriously.” The magician was silent for a few seconds, so Twilight continued, “Now why don’t you start at the beginning and tell me why you have those bat wings, why you think you’re a princess, and how come Equestria is in imminent danger!”
“It’s not my fault,” protested Trixie. She glanced at the crystal, which had reverted to the cool green it had before. “There, your magic rock agrees with me!”
Twilight tried to keep her voice patient as she replied, “It agrees that you don’t think it’s your fault. It’s my job to work out what really happened. So once more, Trixie, please: tell me how all of this happened?”
“Fine.” Trixie sniffed. “It started with my last tour of Transylmaneia...
I’ve been visiting Transylmaneia since I was a filly. My father used to take me there on his tours, so there’s a ready-made audience waiting for me. The villages near the border even put up “Welcome to Trotsylvania” banners when the Great and Powerful Trixie is coming.
“Hang on,” Twilight interrupted. “The banners say ‘Welcome to Trotsylvania’?” I thought the province was called Transylmaneia?”
Trixie raised a mocking eyebrow. “For a teacher you don’t know much about the nation you live in, do you? They’re two names for the same place. The rural ponies call it Trotsylvania, the ponies of the cities call it Transylmaneia. But it’s the same province. They all share allegiance to the throne in Nightcrag.”
Twilight bristled. “But their allegiance is to Princess Celestia and Canterlot first, of course?”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that. The rest of Equestria likes to pretend the batponies don’t exist, so they have a strong identity as Transylmaneians.”
Twilight frowned, pacing around the interrogation room. “Hmm.”
“Now, as I was saying. The villages near the border put up welcome banners whenever the Great and Powerful Trixie is coming to town…”
“They put up these banners just for you?”
“Of course,” Trixie replied smugly. “It’s a great demonstration of how highly Trixie was regarded even before she became their princess, don’t you think?”
“These banners aren’t just up all the time?”
Trixie shrugged. “I assume they just put them up whenever I’m in town.”
“Riiight.” Twilight sighed.
“May I continue?
So I was visiting Transylmaneia on my latest tour. Right from my first performance, I could tell something wasn’t right. The batponies aren’t exactly demonstrative, but they normally at least applaud ironically. This time they just rolled their eyes. Which from a batpony is still high praise, but I could tell something was bothering them, so I asked them in the inn afterwards.
Have you ever been in a Transylmaneian inn, Twilight? They’re wonderfully atmospheric. The ceilings creak, the candles gutter, and I’m sure the cobwebs are spun by specially trained spiders.
But the mood in the inn was no better. So I asked the innkeeper what was going on, and she said that it was nothing for a visitor like me to worry about. Well, that was obviously an evasive answer if ever I heard one, but what could I do? I decided to keep an eye open.
The same pattern continued as I journeyed on. In Whickerton they were so subdued they barely brought me any flowers. That was when I tracked down my friends to ask them what’s going on.
Don’t give me that expression! Yes, I have friends in Transylmaneia. My two best friends in Whickerton are called Tatterdrop and Drifting Melody. They’re a baker and a musician: useful ponies to know when you’re a visiting performer.
I was keen to track them down as soon as possible. But Tatterdrop wasn’t in the kitchen of the Dark Pastry, and nor was she in the café. It took me over an hour to find her in the plundervine garden. Calm down, Twilight, the Transylmaneians know how to keep plundervines contained.
I was planning to give her a good-natured chewing out for being so hard to find, but as I cantered up to her I saw that she was comforting somepony else. “What’s going on?” I asked.
Tatterdrop looked surprised to see me, almost as if she hadn’t seen the notice on the town hall that I was going to be performing that evening. “Trixie? ...I’m glad you’re in town again. Do you remember Drifting Melody?” I realised that the pony under her wing looked seriously ill. “Actually, Trixie, could you get some more hot water? Melody’s still feeling faint.”
Never let it be said that the Great and Powerful Trixie does not help her friends. When I brought back the bucket, I said, “Tatters, it looks like your friend needs better care than just some herbs and hot water. Why isn’t she in the clinic?”
Tatterdrop has a sarcastic streak. It’s one of the reasons I get on with her. Usually she’s good-natured with it, but this time her red eyes were blazing when she replied. “The clinic would be a great place if there was a medic there, wouldn’t it? But because the Queen is sick, all the best doctors of the land have been summoned to Nightcrag, to take care of her. Because she’s the important one. And anypony like me and Melody clearly don’t matter when there’s important nobles to tend to.”
This was the point where I frowned, because I remembered something she’d told me before. “Didn’t you have troubles last year with shortages of ingredients for your baking? Something about the nobility keeping all the spices for themselves for some festival?”
She said, “That’s just what life is like as a peasant baker, Trix. Some weeks you don’t get any spices. Some weeks you have spices but the capital’s double-taxing the milk. When it just means I don’t earn anything for a week and have to eat dry haycakes, eh, I can cope.” Then she literally growled and showed her fangs. “When it means Melody’s too sick to work, though, that’s when it gets me really mad.”
Well. What she said fit with what I’d seen on my previous visits to Transylmaneia. But I couldn’t help but notice that Ponyville never seems to have that kind of problem. Even the quills-and-sofas salespony never seems hungry, and how much business can he really be doing?
So you’ll be delighted to hear, Princess, that I decided to do my best Twilight Sparkle impression and hit the library. Then I did my Twilight Sparkle before-she-had-wings impression and walked into the library… okay, okay, sorry!
I really did go and read some books though. Transylmaneian libraries are spectacular to look at: all vaulted archways and stained-glass windows. More to the point, they have lots of dusty old tomes in there. Probably all sorts of eldritch forbidden arts, but that wasn’t what I was interested in. I was able to confirm what I suspected: the poor laws in Transylmaneia are just the same as for the rest of Equestria, and ponies are entitled to help from the local mayor if they find themselves without sufficient food or basic medical care.
I marched right up to the local town hall, which looked pretty ominous — foreboding, even — with the gargoyles perched on its roof, turning their heads to watch you as you approach. But I didn’t care. I was going to get my friend the remedy she needed.
...Except... it turned out the mayor is a heartless, insensitive oaf who doesn’t care one whit about ponies suffering in his town, or the poor laws. He said, and I quote, “When Queen Heartslash is sick, the whole nation suffers. You can go and petition the next queen if you want.” Just because the Queen is sick, he doesn’t care about the ponies in his town!
What kind of public official can look at Drifting Melody, languishing in the park sipping herbs and hot water, and not want to help her? I thought to myself, Drifting Melody deserves better than this. Tatterdrop deserves better than this. The batponies of Transylmaneia deserve a leader who cares about their plight.
I was moved. So moved that I decided the time had come at last to face up to my past.
You see... the Great and Powerful Trixie was always destined to become the Princess of Transylmaneia.
Twilight stared at the verity crystal, then back at Trixie. It was steadfastly green. “Seriously?”
“Of course.” Trixie tossed her mane smugly. “But I suppose you’ll need my origin story to understand why. Don’t worry, I can tell you that story too…”