My Little Minister: Bureaucracy is Magic!

by Ninjadeadbeard


Civics Lesson

Honey Crisp Apple sat at a small booth in the corner of The Hoof and Hoof Club, carefully going over a spread of documents laid out in front of her. The pale gold-coated earth mare wore a smart blue cravat, with a matching bow that held her otherwise unruly brown mane out of her eyes. The dress code was new and very professional, in Honey’s mind. Definitely one of the more aesthetic decisions made by the now six-month-old Sparkle Administration, she thought.

The one document to her left was a menu for the Hoof and Hoof, filled out entirely in Prench, and with every item adding an additional zero to its price as compared with a less-prestigious restaurant, it was considered a masterpiece of artisanal design here in Canterlot. Since the Hoof and Hoof was owned, operated, and frequented almost exclusively by Civil Service Ponies like Honey herself, the combination of unnecessary gate-keeping jargon and price-gouging was almost as spiritually comforting to her as warm apple cider in winter.

The other documents were work requests and reports she needed to have memorized by the time she met up with her minister, Gem Tracker, after this little get-together was over. If she didn’t know something about a new policy or directive, she’d be no better than a politician, or worse… a voter…

Honey, despite appreciating more time for this matter, was still quite excited when she heard the front door to the club open with a bell-ring, the door-stallion’s voice clearly and snobbishly deny entrance to somepony… and then the tell-tale sound of her cousin giving the poor thing a piece of her mind.

“Lookit here,” Applejack’s ‘I ain’t dealing with this’ scowl could be heard almost as clear as her voice, “I was invited to this here establishment by my cousin, an’ if’n ye’d just ask her, I’m sure she’d… oh!”

Honey waved one hoof at the door-stallion while giving Applejack the brightest smile she could on a government salary. The two mares shared a hug, and then sat down.

Applejack gave a long whistle as she looked about the establishment. “Woo wee! I ain’t never seen a nicer place to eat that wasn’t a palace or somethin’. How d’y'all afford to eat here?”

“It’s considered a job-perk,” Honey smiled as she quickly shuffled the paperwork before her into her satchel, quite the feat when done entirely with hooves, “One of many that make working for the Ministry of Quills and Offices tolerable.”

“What about yer pension?” Applejack frowned, “I thought Twilight raised that for y'all?”

“Well,” Honey waved a hoof about, “I meant besides the pay and benefits.”

Applejack just shrugged at that and said, “Well, anyway, it’s great ta see ya agin, cousin. Haven’t seen you about at the last few Apple Family Reunions.”

Honey winced slightly, “Yeah… sorry bout that… I mean, about that…”

“Yer accent’s slippin’,” the orange mare smiled quite slyly for a farmpony.

“Yes… well,” Honey sniffed, “An Appleachian drawl doesn’t get one far in Canterlot. I had to adapt.”

“Seems dishonest ta me,” Applejack shrugged again, “I mean, ta yerself and yer friends and co-workers.”

“It’s not like I’m not myself!” Honey frowned, but was cut off by the waiter’s arrival. The grey-coated stallion smiled widely at the sight of a regular and one of the Sextarchs of Equestria sitting in his section, and swiftly brought out a pad to take their order.

Honey quickly ordered a broasted carrot filet with an aged apple cider, while Applejack took one look at the menu, blanched, and then asked for half a bread appetizer and some water.

“How can anypony eat here!?” Applejack whispered once the waiter was out of ear-shot. “I mean, I could either eat here a week, or fix up the farm!”

“Most of us have a discounted tab,” Honey nodded sympathetically. Then, with a smirk, she added, “Speaking of renovating the farm… how is Rainbow Dash settling in?”

Applejack narrowed her eyes, though not without a hint of a smile herself. “She’s jes’ a friend doin’ work with me til they fix her own house back up.”

“Of course, naturally,” Honey paused just long enough for the waiter to return and set their drinks down, “But to your original problem with my… accent…”

“It ain’t a problem, I jes…”

Honey raised a hoof to catch her cousin’s attention, “If you visited another country, one where nocreature spoke Ponish, wouldn’t it be rude to not try and speak that country’s language?”

“Well…” Applejack tapped her chin a few times, trying to catch just what Honey was getting at.

Finally, she sighed, “You know? I think Rarity might’ve said somethin’ similar once. I think I’d prefer bein’ myself an all country-like anyway, even if somecreature thought it was rude.”

“I don’t have that luxury,” Honey shook her head, “Promotions go to those who communicate best. And if the ones giving the promotions want you to speak in a Canterlot accent, that’s just what you do.”

Applejack took a breath, and then nodded. She seemed to at least understand that much. “I’m powerful sorry then. I didn’t mean ta imply anythin’.”

Noting her cousin’s tone, Honey took a breath of her own and tried to rein in her own attitude. This was family, after all. For the first time in a long time, she really didn’t need to prove herself.

“It’s no problem,” she said… and then drawled in her own voice, “Ah don’t think it’d be too much trouble ta let a little more o’ me shine through jes’ between you’n me.”

Applejack’s eyes widened. She let out a little snort of laughter, and was joined by her cousin moments later. Despite being a farmpony, Applejack was conscientious enough of the restaurant’s pedigree and her cousin’s station here to keep her laughter down to a sensible chuckle.

When the waiter returned, moments later, the food looked remarkably edible, despite the absurd price.

“Well, I guess I don’t need ta fix up that fence this season anyway,” Applejack said under her breath as she contemplated the amount of bits she’d just spent to eat warm breadsticks.

Honey, however, covered for her cousin.

“Thank’ee…” she coughed, “Ah… Thank you most kindly, darling.”

The waiter raised an eyebrow, but said nothing as he left the two in peace.

Honey sighed, then took a bite out of her meal.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Applejack smiled, a little chagrined, “Didn’t mean ta come here and mess up yer social life or anythin’…”

Honey just shook her head again and downed a muzzle-full of cider.

“It’s not your fault, Applejack. But I suppose we should get to the elephant in the room…”

“Elephant!?” the farmpony spun her head about, “Aw, shucks! Did Fluttershy miss one?”

“Metaphor, dear,” Honey’s unimpressed stare brought Applejack back to her seat, “I mean, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company? Is this about family or business?”

Applejack seemed to catch her cousin’s meaning now, taking a bite out of her breadsticks and speaking relatively clearly through a full mouth. “Family business, as it so happens.”

“Oh,” Honey sighed in Civil Servant, “Well, alright then.”

“Not that I’m not appreciative of yer company!” Applejack reached out a hoof to pat her cousin’s, “In fact, I was mighty upset you couldn’t make the last reunion an’ I’ve been meanin’ to stop by anyway… it’s jes’…”

“Family business is important,” Honey managed a genuine smile for her cousin, “Grandpa Honorius Cincinnatus Apple always said that, usually in between cursing the government for stealing his money and complaining about modern music.”

“Heh,” Applejack chuckled lightly at the memory, she having heard one of his famous tirades as a filly, “Yeah… Granny says that Ole HC Apple was born an old coot.”

Honey laughed a little, then slid back in her seat and took a sip of cider. “Alright, let’s hear it. What do you need?”

Applejack reached up to her Stetson and pulled out a sheaf of papers from under it. Honey’s eyebrows lifted slightly at the sight, and listened intently as her cousin began to tell the tale.

“Well, as you no doubt heard from the gossipin’ gaggle o’ grannies we got in our family, Big Mac and I wanted ta expand the farm a little bit this past year or so. That whole mess with Sombra an’ Discord an’ tha Elements of Disharmony…”

“The Elements of…?”

“Talk ta Twilight bout it if’n ye can, but that’s what they’re callin’ Cozy, Tirek, and Chrysalis’ crazy attempt to conquer Equestria back then. Anyway, we got enough bits t’gether fer us ta buy up some extra acreage and started planting another orchard. Got some good apple trees fer it, imported from Braeburn and Strongheart’s newest grove as well!”

Honey grinned, “Nice to see those two finally tie the knot… even if Granpa Honorius sort of… lost it at the reception…”

Both Apple kin grimaced at the memory. Luckily, it hadn’t ruined what was otherwise a perfect evening, but older ponies sometimes had older ideas, and when it was older family things could still be… well, tense.

After a sip of cool water, Applejack continued, “Anyhoo… we got the trees transplanted jes’ fine, and it looked like a strong harvest was coming up. Then…”

She indicated the pile of paperwork she’d brought out.

“See, Big Mac was s’pposed ta take care of the legal stuff, all the paperwork. But between Windigos, the battle against those three miscreants, his own weddin’…”

“Congrats, again,” said Honey, surreptitiously hoofing a bit of her food over to a grateful Applejack, “If we didn’t have that whole Trottingham HoofXIT crisis that weekend, I’d have come.”

Applejack took a bite of the broasted carrots, and after an appreciative hum, continued.

“No worries. Like I says, we had our hooves full. An’ after a little… accident with my sister Apple Bloom tryin’ ta cook in tha kitchen… apparently we’d lost a page.”

Applejack pointed out the offending document, a blue sheet of paper that, to Honey’s quick investigation, appeared to be a clearance for agricultural zoning.

“Now, by the time somepony from the Equestrian Agricultural Ministry catches this, we’ve already gone inta production! I got a whole field of apple trees I ain’t allowed ta buck, except fer personal consumption, and the whole farm’s losin’ bits on it! If’n I wore a shirt, I might have ta sell it!”

“Yikes,” Honey winced in sympathy. She’d gone to law school, but most of her siblings were still farmponies, so she knew precisely how devastating a bad harvest could be.

“Now,” Applejack rolled her eyes at the situation, “I git here a few days ago and head into the Ministry, right? I spent eight hours… eight hours tryin’ ta find somepony to complain at an’ get this here document filled out!”

“Ooh,” Honey winced again, “That’s a bad break. Agricultural Zoning takes a Minister’s signature to clear, and right now they’re all inundated since the Party’s been pushing reforms and agendas through the Departments.”

“That’s what they told me,” Applejack sighed, “Though it took about ten times as long as you did ta say it an’ explain it all ta me…”

Honey snickered, “Well, I’m told I can be a terrible bureaupony at times.”

“Yer pretty straightforward as far as I can tell.”

“Yes, that,” she laughed, “Oh, I’m so sorry Applejack. Please, continue. Sounds like you’ve had a horrid time of it.”

“Ya know? Might be good for the ob’tuary,” Applejack chuckled, “I can see it now: ‘Applejack, She Had a Horrid Time’!”

Honey shook her head slowly, “A little dark for you, cousin. But I see what you mean. So… how can I help?”

Here, at the end of the story, Applejack paused. She coughed, once, then took a long swig of her water. Then, she reached over and took a longer swig of Honey’s cider.

“See… I was thinkin’,” Applejack said, slowly, trying to gauge her cousin’s opinion as she went, “All it takes is a Minister’s signature ta make this all bindin’ and legal-like. But… you know a Minister… so I was thinkin’… maybe y'all could slide that thar blue bit of paper ‘cross her desk? Mebbe…” she took a deep breath, “… git her ta sign it?”

Honey Crisp Apple stared at her cousin. Her eyes were the same shade of green as Applejack’s, which made it all the eerier for AJ, seeing her own eyes boring down into her soul. After a minute, Applejack couldn’t be sure if Honey’d had a stroke or fallen asleep with her eyes open… or was simply judging her.

Applejack sighed, and went to swipe the paper back, “Look, I know this was a bad idea…”

“Applejack.” Honey said her name crisply, curtly, without any of the warmth of family in her voice. She reached out to take the paper herself, and held it up.

“Applejack,” she said again, once she’d started blinking again, “I cannot do this for you.”

“I… I know,” Applejack sighed. She pulled her hat off and held it guiltily in her hooves. “Yer family, so I suppose it wouldn’t be right to ask you ta do me a favor like this.”

“That’s not it,” Honey said detachedly, looking over the document. “Quite frankly, I’m more than happy to help family out with this exact sort of problem.”

Applejack frowned, “Oh…? Um, so is it because yer Minister wouldn’t like it? I heard of Gem. She sounds like a good mare, all things considered.”

“She’s a politician,” Honey sighed, “If I brought this to Gem, she’d sign it in a heartbeat just so she could brag that she did the Element of Honesty a favor to her constituents.”

“Well, it can’t look good fer the Element of Honesty ta cut red tape for herself?” Applejack wondered aloud.

“True enough, but no,” Honey set the paper down, “That’s not it either.”

“Then why!?” Applejack leaned back in her seat, “If it ain’t a big deal, then why not? An’ if it is, then why would ya normally help, but not now?”

Honey smirked, “Well, while I normally wouldn’t be above a little corruption…”

“Now hold on…”

“No,” Honey lifted one hoof again, as if to make a point with it, “It’s corruption, Applejack. Granted, all government is an exercise in managing corruption, but in this case I’m not afraid of a little bit of legal malfeasance or hoof-greasing.”

Applejack growled in her throat, but resigned herself to waiting to hear what her cousin had to say.

“Simply put, cousin… I can’t help you with this, because it’s entirely unnecessary for you to take such a risk.”

“Unnecessary?” Applejack folded her forelegs in front of her, and leaned forward with a curious, perplexed expression.

“Well, of course!” Honey laughed, quite a bit louder than before, “I mean… you don’t need anypony else’s signature. You could sign it!”

Honey shook herself with her evident mirth. She laughed just hard enough to start tearing up, and took a moment to compose herself and wipe at her eyes with her cravat. But when she didn’t hear anything more from Applejack, she looked up.

Her cousin still had a perplexed look on her face.

“Applejack? Did you hear what I said?”

“Yeah…?” the farmpony frowned. “Doesn’t change the fact I had no idea what you meant.”

Honey’s eyes widened. “What… what do you mean? Applejack… you’re my boss. You have all the authority you need to sign that document!”

“Pardon?” Applejack tilted her head to the side, “I… how does that work out? I ain’t a Minister or nuthin’, I’m jes’ on the Council of Friendship ta help Twilight.”

“Oh,” Honey said.

Oh,” she said again, lower and with less color in her face.

“Ooohhhhh,” she lowered her head to the table and her voice dropped low enough to make her cousin think that Honey was growling.

“You alright there, sugarcube?” Applejack leaned over to check on her cousin.

Honey’s hooves shot out, and her whole body followed as she grabbed Applejack’s shoulders and brought their noses within inches.

“Applejack,” she said, quietly, with that sort of wild look in her eyes that Applejack had learned to fear from dealing with Twilight’s mental meltdowns, “I need you to tell me you were joking. Tell me you know how the Equestrian government works. Tell me that. Please.”

Carefully removing the hooves from her shoulders, Applejack sat down in her seat and fixed her cousin with a look she’d learned while trying to calm skittish farm animals.

“I… admit I probably should know how this whole government business works, but…”

APPLEJACK! YOU ARE THE GOVERNMENT!”

The hard slap caught Honey completely off-guard, sending her back down into her own seat. She reached up to feel the spot along her muzzle where Applejack’s hoof had struck her.

“I’m so sorry,” Applejack timidly tapped her hooves together before her, “I jes’ heard ya say government an’ I don’t know what came over me…”

“No, no,” Honey sighed, “It’s fine.”

Both mares sat in silence, their meal totally forgotten. Applejack stewed in awkward embarrassment over her behavior, while Honey seemed far more consumed in thought. Much like Twilight or Starlight often were while working on some big project, now that Applejack thought about it.

After a few minutes, Honey seemed to come to a decision. She brought out a small notebook from her bag, which Applejack instantly recognized by the large, combined Cutie Mark on its cover; a honey comb and a magnifying glass stuck together, the former Honey’s, and if Applejack had to guess the second was probably Gem Tracker’s.

“Jes’ sen’in ah meshage,” Honey scribbled something hastily with a pencil held in her lips. When she was done, she spat it out and said, “Letting the office know I’ll be taking a longer lunch than usual. Family matters, and all that.”

“I didn’t mean ta take ye away from yer work, Honey,” Applejack’s face crinkled up like she’d taken a bit out of an apple and only saw half a worm writing in the core.

Honey raised her nose in a mockingly imperious way Applejack thought Rarity couldn’t have done better.

“Nonsense,” she said, “Clearly, this is an Apple family crisis we have on our hooves! I could never leave you fumbling in the dark, cousin. The whole nation may depend on it!”

Applejack tilted her head again, “Say what?”

“I’m going to teach you how the government works, AJ,” Honey smiled at first, but it soured in moments, “The government you’re supposed to be running…”

“Well, Granny always says if ya don’t learn nothin’, ye ain’t improvin’ none. Fire away!”

Honey Crisp blinked once, then shook her head. She waved down the waiter again and put in a quick order for a coffee, black, and something she called a pink stallion.

“Um,” Applejack frowned, “Pink Stallion?”

“Pinkie won a bet with the local kitchen staff,” Honey sighed, “And now we have this… ‘drink’, let’s call it. I just need a little extra energy today…”

And with that, she began.

“You, of course, know the story of Hearth’s Warming…”

“Know it?” Applejack laughed, “Girl, I’ve been in the Royal play before.” She laughed again and took a sip of her coffee… and then stared, starry-eyed at the pool of black perfection. “I need ta eat here more…”

Honey pressed on. “Well, it might be useful to know that the Equestrian government was rather slap-dashedly put together back then. Each of the tribes had its own governing structure, after all, and nopony could decide which one to adopt. That is, until Starswirl showed up…”

“An’ he’d been raisin’ the Princesses, right?”

“Correct,” Honey nodded, rather animatedly since her first sip of her ‘coffee’. Applejack couldn’t bring herself to call the brilliant pink beverage that without air quotes.

“Apparently, the tribes coming together like they did was the perfect opportunity for Starswirl to finally put his plans to unite everypony into motion. So, he created the Diarchy, with Celestia and Luna as the natural leaders of the nation. He himself,” she gave her drink a quick swirl for emphasis, “As well as the other Pillars became a Regency Council to manage the affairs of the Princesses until they came of age.”

“Wait, how old were they?” Applejack nibbled at her other breadstick, long since gone cold, “An’ how d’y'all know all this?”

“I went to Bale College,” Honey said with an almost wistful air, “One of Camel-Bridge’s sub-universities. Their history and legal programs are top notch.”

“Oh…” said Applejack, wondering how many bits that must’ve cost before deciding that Apple Bloom probably didn’t need no fancy degrees with how her Crusading had been going. “So, how old were the Princesses?”

“Don’t know for certain,” said Honey, “But little older than Apple Bloom or my brother Peel. Then, when the Pillars up and vanished, the Sisters had to step up and take over. Earth ponies like us had it easy, what with having simple elected leaders and town councils, and the pegasi had their military republic, but the capital was staffed entirely by unicorns up here in Canterlot.”

“Why was that a problem? Seems ta me that unicorns are an okay bunch,” Applejack coughed into her hoof, hoping to hide a slight blush as she said, “I mean… at least since I met Twilight an’ realized they weren’t all snobs.”

“No, that’s true,” Honey smirked, “But it’s easier to stab somepony else in the back if you have a horn.”

Applejack grimaced slightly at the joke, but let her cousin get back into the telling.

“So, unicorns always had this Nobility thing. Ranks and titles and privileges. The whole shebang. But all that lineage-tracking and all that hobbknobbing and all that scheming turned out to make the perfect bureaucrats and administrators, so Celestia just sort of adopted their system wholesale.

“Which…” Honey swallowed a big gulp of her drink, and spent several seconds biting her tongue while smacking the table with her hoof. When she could finally manage a breath, she continued. “Which brings me to my first lesson. Applejack? Do you know how the government works? Just… broad strokes?”

“Uh,” Applejack’s eyes flickered back and forth as she thought. “Is this a trick question? I mean… I know I vote fer a mayor an’ a representative ta Parliament… but other than that, I have no idea.”

“It is a trick question!” Honey laughed, “Any good question is, if my time working here has taught me anything. The government works because the Princesses say it does.”

Applejack cleared out one of her ears with a hoof, and then leaned forward. “Come ageen?”

“The government works,” Honey said slowly, “Because at least one Alicorn Princess says so.”

“So…” Applejack’s mind started working like one of them newfangled tractors Twilight had shown her from the Mirror World; ponderously, but with purpose, “How’s that diff’rnt than any ole Monarchy? With one ruler makin’ decisions?”

“Why, everything!” Honey waved one hoof about dramatically, “Starswirl didn’t write a constitution that laid out how the Equestrian government should be run. He couldn’t care less about that since he thought he’d be around forever, or at least that he’d be around long enough to teach the Princesses how to run things on their own. Equestria is an Absolute Xeno-Oligarchy, technically.”

Honey focused a moment, “To quote: ‘This land, Equestria, shall be a land of equals before the Alicorn, who by Grace and Majesty shall be the sole inheritor of the Destiny and Harmony of the Pony Tribes’.”

“Wait,” Applejack shook her head, “So thar ain’t no ‘Will of the Ponies’ or ‘Sovereignty by Consent’, technically?”

“Nope, that’s an earth pony thing. Equestria is a Caste system, albeit one with two castes. For over one thousand years, it was basically just Celestia deciding how the government worked… and that was apparently a nightmare.”

Honey took another light sip from her drink, and said, “Princess Celestia, I assume this wouldn’t surprise you, seeing as how you knew her, wasn’t exactly the most… competent administrator we could have had.”

“Now, now,” Applejack said quite sternly, “No need ta be rude. Celestia did all she could fer us.”

“Applejack, sugarcube?” Honey winced, “Celestia made it up as she went. Luna was… more organized. She ran the military like a well-oiled machine, like a… like an army, in fact. But I assume you figured out how they managed things when you took over the Royal Swanifying Ceremony last year.”

Well, now Applejack had to think back to that strange, strange couple of days. She and the girls had been given the task of running a simple government ceremony commemorating the good work the Royal Swans did for the nation… whatever that was. And truth be told, Applejack would be the first to admit they’d made a pig’s breakfast out of the whole thing.

“I ‘member Fancy Pants running some sort of committee,” she mused, “An’… it seemed ta me like everythin’ was delegated ta somepony or other.”

“Unicorn government,” Honey sighed, almost annoyed at the thought, “Nobles jockey for positions on Committees, which are only formed when a problem occurs, and then they delegate rules and authority until everypony around them knows who came up with the plan and who’s job is on the line for carrying it out. You know Princess Celestia disbanded the entire military whenever there wasn’t an active war going on?”

“What? Really!?” Applejack nearly lost her hat; she was so startled. Nearly. “Then what was the whole Wonderbolts thing fer?”

“Reclassified as a sports team,” Honey shrugged, “Which cut costs, but considering what happened with the whole Storm King debacle, shuttering the Ministry of Defense in between uses seemed to be a rather poor idea.”

She set her empty cup down, “But my point is… the Princess is in charge. If Twilight Sparkle decides that she is the only one who can make laws and regulations, there’s no legal standing to oppose her. Parliament is an advisory council, at best.”

“Twilight’s a smart cookie, but even she needs help runnin’ this here ship-of-state,” Applejack stared down her cousin, “I hope she took that delegatin’ lesson ta heart, at least.”

“Oh, she did,” said Honey, checking her journal for updates as she continued, “There’s an actual permanent set of ministries, departments, and bureaus now. The Civil Service adore the new Princess since she’s basically just one of us with a crown!”

Honey realized suddenly that her voice had begun to rise in volume as she lavished the Princess with praise, and so took another sip of her drink to steady herself.

“But she’s still the Princess. As long as Equestria has one Princess that hasn’t retired or otherwise become unavailable, the government continues. Even if Twilight ruled that the nation would become a representative democracy… good heavens, I hope not… we technically can’t depose her without breaking continuity of legitimacy.”

Applejack frowned, “Well… that’s a mouthful. Does Twilight know this? That she’s… basically all-powerful?”

“From what I understand,” Honey nodded, “She knows, and quite possibly hates it. Enough so that, back when you all took over running the country, she had my Ministry and a few additional legal teams put in some… rather extensive overtime on fixing the problem.”

“Which problem is that?” Applejack folded her hooves together on the table, her interest clear as the shine off a fresh apple, “Seems like she’s got all this governin’ business sorted.”

“You’d think so, but no. She had to make things complicated.” Honey sighed, a note of weariness creeping into her voice at the memory of all those sleepless nights and panicked days where she and her colleagues had delved into the depths of the administrative backlog to find something, anything to give the Princess the answer she sought.

It was a good thing, she reflected, that eldritch horrors don’t lurk in government record warehouses. They’d certainly dug too greedily and too deep for her comfort.

Still… while the work had been tiring, any work added to the Civil Service was a good thing. Best to keep politicians from thinking they could run the government.

“Princess Twilight was… concerned about you,” she finally said, catching Applejack’s surprised look with a twinge of mirth. “She was worried about sharing power with the five of you, because by the way the law works, she would always outrank you.”

Applejack scoffed, “Is that all? She ain’t gotta worry none. I trust Twilight’s judgement, an’ so does everypony else among our friends.”

“Be that as it may, it bothers her,” Honey noted sourly, still thinking on the work she put in. “We spent weeks looking up every precedent on the books. We searched shelves that had been lost for centuries, we delved into restricted archives, we ran across no less than five sealed ancient horrors… none got out, don’t worry… but we did it.”

“What did ya do?”

Honey grinned, “We created an Alicorn Princess!”

After several seconds of silence, Applejack remembered to blink. Then, with a gasp, she remembered to breathe. She just sat there, breathing and blinking, until she supposed she looked every bit as ‘twilighty’ as her dear friend ever did.

“You… ah, you wanna run that by me again…?”

“Oh,” Honey blushed, “Not literally! No, we did the next best thing: We marshalled an army of loopholes and poorly-worded legal contracts to create the legal simulacrum of an Alicorn Princess, and then incorporated the whole thing as a government actor.”

“Honey,” Applejack sighed, “Ponish, please.”

“Um…” Honey seemed to need a moment to dumb her explanation down even further, “I suppose… okay. So, you remember how you and your friends are the Elements of Harmony?”

“Technically,” Applejack frowned, “’til Sombra blasted the tree, yeah.”

“You still can shoot friendship lasers?” Honey smirked, “Or has Apple Bloom been telling fibs again?”

“Nah, that’s true.”

Honey nodded, triumphantly, and continued, “Alright, well, this gets complicated, so listen good. Since the definition of ‘Alicorn’ isn’t really spelled out anywhere except as saying it’s a being that represents all three pony tribes, we made it an Act of Parliament that you all together, the Council of Friendship, are an Alicorn Princess!”

“Eenope,” Applejack shook her head, “I still don’t get it.”

“Let me finish,” Honey said, finishing her drink with a final slurp, “There’s a unicorn, two pegasi, and two earth ponies on the Council. So… you represent all three tribes. You are each an Element of Harmony, as well. And what does Harmony look like?”

Applejack’s eyes brightened immediately, “Oh! I know this one! Harmony is… like the laughter of little colts an’ fillies, the sense of ‘calm-rod-derry’ when ye’ve given somepony a generous gift, or a bit o’ kindness. It’s loyalty, an’ truth, an’…”

Honey clapped her hooves together once to snap Applejack out of her sudden reverie.

“Eenope,” Honey mimicked the famous Apple catchphrase, “That wasn’t a trick question. It’s an Alicorn, a literal magical Alicorn that lives in the remnant parts of the Tree of Harmony and in the Castle of Friendship.”

“… oh…” Applejack rubbed the back of her head, “I see… That Harmony…”

“So, the Council has dual-legitimacy,” Honey pressed on unperturbed, “It’s a metaphorical Alicorn Princess by you all being on it, as well as a literal, Magical Alicorn Princess by virtue of you all thus technically being representatives of Harmony.

“As a side bonus,” she deftly snapped up the last breadstick with one hoof and took a small, dainty bite, “Since the Tree is older than Twilight, the Council has seniority on her and can Veto any decisions she makes if you make a two-thirds majority vote against her.”

“But we trust Twilight…!”

“And you’ve never disagreed with her? On anything?” Honey fixed her cousin with an incredulous look. As soon as the farmpony sat back in her seat, Honey took that as a victory for her. “Besides, this was all planned out for the future. Maybe in one thousand years, she’ll make a bad call and we’ll be grateful that whoever makes up the Council then can still reasonably stand up to her. Government is all about checks and balances, Applejack. Otherwise, things might get done.”

Applejack’s muzzle moved back and forth, like she was chewing something. It made her look a little uncomfortable. “I don’t know ‘bout all this. It jes’ sounds like a whole bunch of skullduggery.”

The Bureaupony smiled. “Thank you.”

“So, what yer sayin’ is…” Applejack gave it a moment for her words to come to her, “Because I’m on the Council, and the Council is a Princess… then that means anythin’ I sign is signed by a Princess?”

“Kind of,” Honey waved her hoof in a ‘so-so’ sort of way, “Actually, just to be on the safe side, we also had you all given the title of Princess. I guess you didn’t read those diploma things we gave you on your first Council Day?”

Applejack blushed again.

“I… thought those were fancy placemats.” The words Honey had said began to settle in, however, and Applejack hummed to herself questioningly before she looked back to her cousin.

“And I’m the Princess of…?”

“Bureaucracy,” Honey snorted, “Princess Twilight told all of us you liked getting things done ‘the Right Way’, and you could keep all of us Civil Servants in line by being the Element of… Honesty…”

Honey scowled as she recited this last part. “Well… shoot. I really shouldn’t have told you that…”

“Aw, it don’t hurt none,” Applejack chuckled, “We only really git involved once a month already. I’m sure y'all run yerselves fine without me muckin’ it up.”

“I’m glad you see it that way,” Honey smiled, relief washing over her features.

“But…” Applejack’s smile turned mischievous, or perhaps merely curious, “What did the others get?”

“Rarity’s the Princess of the Treasury, probably due to…”

Applejack snorted, “Well, I’d be careful she don’t try’n give everypony a fancy, frou-frou dress code, but Rarity’s got a good head on her shoulders. If’n ye needed somepony ta run the figures n’ such, she’s your mare.”

Honey smiled at the description, “I’m sure she’d be pleased to hear your recommendation. I’m… not sure if any of the others know about their titles… well, except Pinkie.”

“What’d she get?” Applejack leaned back in her seat.

“Foreign Office,” Honey said, then glanced to the ceiling as she pondered, “I think she does know, since she shows up to every staff meeting between the Diplomatic Corps and I see her almost weekly in her office, looking over briefs and intelligence reports…”

“Wait, wait,” Applejack held up a hoof to pause the conversation. “Pinkie… has an office?”

“We assigned her one, since she actually shows up so often. Technically, as a Princess, any office you walk into is your office. Just in case you want to grab a desk sometime.”

“Nah, that ain’t necessary,” Applejack’s hoof waved down her cousin’s point, “I’m jes’ glad Pinkie’s doin’ well. She always could make friends easier’n most, so it makes sense she’s takin’ care of diplomacy an’ such.”

She paused as the waiter came back around with the bill, and after a short but fiery debate it was decided that they would split it evenly despite Honey’s objections.

“Since I asked ya here under sort of false pretenses,” Applejack said, folded forelegs showing she meant business. “I owe half. Now… where was I?”

“You were asking about your friends…”

“Now that you mention it!” Applejack said, her hoof reaching out towards Honey’s pencil, still lying atop her magic journal, “I assume Fluttershy’s the Princess of Animals or somethin’?”

“Ministry of the Environment,” Honey nudged the utensil towards her cousin, but didn’t break stride, “Animals, weather, agriculture… the works.”

“Sounds like a big responsibility. Does she know?” Applejack took the pencil in her teeth and began scratching something out on the paperwork she’d brought.

Honey shrugged, “I think so… but she’s never shown up. I think she writes motivational pamphlets and allows field agents to come by and practice with her animals. That is… so long as Discord isn’t around…”

“Ah,” Applejack spat out the pencil and gave a strange look, like something caught between concern and annoyance, “He ain’t botherin’ nopony, is he?”

Honey’s unamused expression spoke volumes. “He threatened to change all the commas in the Royal Library into periods, and all the periods into commas if we didn’t keep clear of him. The Princess has declared Moon-Banishment to anycreature who antagonizes the Spirit of Chaos.”

“Well, that’s ta be expected,” Applejack sighed. Then, with one ear particularly perked up, asked, “Um… an’ what ‘bout Dashie?”

Honey’s coy smirk was back, “Oh? Want to have something to chat about over breakfast… or Hearts and Hooves day?”

“Yeah… I mean, NO!” the otherwise orange mare turned a brilliant shade of red for a moment, “I just wanted ta know fer curiosity’s sake…”

“Alright, alright!” Honey waved placatingly with both hooves, “I was just having some fun. She’s actually the Princess of the Ministry of Education.”

Applejack froze. Then, she blanched. Her mouth slowly dropped until it met the tabletop, and Honey could have sworn her cousin’s eyes began to drift apart slowly.

“Applejack? AJ? You alright there…?”

Applejack finally seemed to pull herself back from whatever black void she’d fallen into, and fixed Honey with a cold glare. “That weren’t funny.”

Honey snickered, “Well… I got you for a little bit there, didn’t I?”

The farmpony managed to hold her glare for a few more seconds before a smirk broke out over her features. “Alright, ye got me. Now what’s she got, fer real?”

“Ministry of Culture, Entertainment, and Sport,” Honey said easily.

Applejack nodded approvingly at this. Then, she quickly gathered up her papers and stuck the wad back up under her hat. That accomplished, she began working herself out of the booth.

“Welp,” she said with an air of weary resolve, “If’n you’re right ‘bout all this malarkey, I could jes’ sign this paperwork meself and get the farm back in full production?”

The two mares made their way towards the front of the restaurant.

“Indeed, Your Majesty,” Honey grinned from ear to ear at her playful use of title.

“Yeah, yeah, enough!” Applejack laughed, “I ain’t gon’ do that though. Twilight’d probably call it a…”

“Abuse of power?”

“Yeah,” the farmpony laughed as the two stepped out into Canterlot’s early afternoon rush, “that. Much easier fer me ta jes’ ask Fluttershy ta sign it, since it’s her department.”

“Ministry.”

“Whatever.”

The two stood before the restaurant doors, each basking for a moment. Applejack couldn’t help but feel a sort of lightness sink into her bones as the sun’s rays warmed her coat, like how Dash sometimes described hitting an updraft in flight. Honey, meanwhile, felt a vibration pass through her like she was sitting in the front row of a bombastic orchestra, such was the driving pulse of the ponies who lived in the city. They rolled along in a perfect harmony.

Finally, Applejack turned back towards her cousin, and said, “In any case, I’m thankful fer your time, Sugarcube.”

“If you need any further lessons,” Honey hugged her cousin tight, “You know where to find me.”

“Not if I see you first,” Applejack winked, “Ye can’t get out of next year’s Apple Family Reunion. Not if I have anythin’ ta say ‘bout it.”

“Oh?” Honey’s curiosity was peaked, “And… how do you know there won’t be another bureaucratic crisis to deal with next year?”

The technically-a-Princess-but-really-a-farmpony laughed, and began to walk away.

“I’ll jes’ git Rarity to make it a Bank Holiday!”

“That…” Honey sighed, “That’s not how that works… oh dear.”

Caught up in her disappointment, Honey almost missed her journal rumbling in her saddlebag. Honey managed to fish the thing out, and with the careful balance one gains by handling books and ledgers for years with only hooves, she managed to check her latest incoming message.

It was from Wooly Cloud, her Minister’s private secretary.

Begging your pardon, Miss Apple, but Princess Pie just placed an order with our office to prepare for some sort of new bank holiday, and we could really use your expertise. She also asked if I wanted to be your ‘Plus One’…

Honey’s eyes glazed over instead of reading the rest of the missive. She suddenly had an inkling as to why the Foreign Office Secretaries walked about with that half-dead stare all day long. She sighed, knowing there wasn’t a single word for what she was feeling right at that moment.

But family had taught her just the one.

“Aw… hornswoggle.”