//------------------------------//
// Chapter 2: Incalescence 
// Story: The Glow 
// by WhoHoo 
//------------------------------//

Despite the bureaucratic beehive of some parts of Canterlot Castle, there existed small pockets of quietude in the palace. Princess Celestia, the Solar Diarch and the Custodian of the Day, was currently taking advantage of one such spot, an open balcony overlooking Ponyville to the south. A gold filigree teacup floated in front of her, enveloped in the soft yellow glow of her telekinesis.

Celestia took a sip of the brew. It was an aromatic green tea, a present from the visiting Neighponese envoy. The Princess preferred receiving consumables far more than durables. Diplomatic gifts like teas, spices, and candies all had definite lifespans. These goods would either be eaten or drunk by the Royal Family or shared with the castle’s serving staff and guards. Celestia herself preferred giving emissaries and ambassadors apple-based products, ranging from apple dumplings from Appleoosa to gigantic pies from Sweet Apple Acres (simple preservation spells kept these confections in their just-baked form until they were ready for presenting). The purpose of this practice was two-fold: apples represented the agricultural foundation of Equestrian society, and the Crown could directly support farmers. 

Tea was good. The problem was with tea sets. It was a common practice to gift Celestia with a tea set upon every diplomatic visit. Even artisans within Equestria’s borders would often present Celestia with their new teaware designs. Unfortunately, it was harder for Celestia regift artistic creations like these to her maids and butlers, as the Princess genuinely adored each and every unique piece she received. This sentiment also precluded her from discreetly smashing and discarding extra sets. Over the centuries, Celestia had quietly contracted generations of earth ponies to hollow out space in Canterlot Mountain to store the multitude of teapots and cups. Few passengers on the train cars that circled up the mountain ever knew about the sheer tons of ceramic and porcelain that they passed.
As Celestia ruminated on the economics of tea, a greasy odor wafted up to her perch. Sniffing inquisitively, she trotted to the edge of the balcony. Looking below into the courtyard, Celestia saw a Manican food vendor and his cart. He was hawking burritos, quesadillas, and tacos. Already, a long line was forming, and Celestia spied her sister Luna near the front of the queue. 

Celestia shuddered. She remembered the last time that her sibling had Manican food two months ago: that evening, in the throes of Luna’s indigestion, a massive meteor shower had occurred. The cascading debris, as they fell to Equestria, had been serenaded by what sounded like the cries of a diseased tuba that had just been kicked in the genitals. Celestia made a mental note to procure some antacids for her sister.

Suddenly, a puff of smoke erupted near Celestia’s right shoulder, shaking Celestia from her odorous memories. She caught the parchment that fell from the smoke. Ah, it was a letter from her favorite student! As she began reading the draft, her elation fell to dread. Alas, the Princess remembered the Glow, and the toll it had taken on her body.

Oh dear, thought Celestia, I’m going to need more antacids.