//------------------------------// // VIII - Sweet Betrayal // Story: Sunrise // by Winston //------------------------------// Sunrise ​    Chapter VIII - Sweet Betrayal ​    The earth pony capitol building’s waiting area was cold, despite having a small wood-burning stove. This primitive appliance made of rough black cast iron came as yet another little bit of culture shock to Celestia: in Quartz City, she was used to public facilities being in stone buildings with excellent insulation and efficient heating elements powered by magical crystals that kept the temperature comfortably warm throughout the year. Earth ponies, by contrast, always seemed to rely on fire, which seemed to her like such a crude and inefficient source of heat with the way it constantly demanded attention and fuel. The building itself did little to help the situation: she was sure she could feel a draft of harsh winter air finding its way into the rickety wooden construction, making her shiver while it constantly tried to quench what little warmth the stove could offer. Still, even with all that, it wouldn’t have been so bad except for how long they’d been sitting here. Waiting was getting frustrating, but Celestia kept reminding herself to have patience. There was no other choice, after all. Her sister, however, was not so content to suffer silently. “Does she usually make ponies wait this long?” Luna grumbled, glancing over for the hundredth time at the clock on the wall. “Nothing we can do.” Clover shrugged helplessly. “Can’t say I’m really surprised, though. It took over a week to just get an appointment. What’s another hour?” “It’s a bit inconsiderate, is what it is,” Luna groused, pacing near the stove and trying to soak up what warmth she could before it dissipated into the freezing air. “We were here on time. Why can’t she have the same courtesy?” “We’re not chancellors,” Celestia reminded her. “I’m sure she’s very busy.” “Hrmph.” Luna’s voice softened and she settled back into one of the seats. “I suppose you’re right.” They sat through another few minutes of the cold. The room was nearly silent, except for the almost inaudible crackling of burning wood through cast iron. Celestia wished there could have been at least a book or two to occupy herself with, but her surroundings were bare of reading material. Apparently, the only diversion provided to ponies who got stuck waiting here was feeding firewood into the stove from a wrought iron log rack in the corner. Finally, a door opened and an earth pony with a well-coiffured strawberry blonde mane over a chocolate brown coat stuck her head through into the waiting room. “Cardinal Clover?” She looked around the room with clear sky-blue eyes, and Celestia noticed the striking white blaze running down her face and muzzle. “The Chancellor will see you now.” “Wonderful! At last!” Clover sprang to her hooves. The two sisters followed close behind. “This way.” The earth pony ushered them through the door, down a short hallway, and into a large office. Celestia was relieved to find the air much warmer in here, thanks to what seemed to be better insulation and a large brick fireplace in the far wall. In front of the fireplace, the center of the room was dominated by a pudgy earth pony mare sitting at a huge desk piled with a haphazard clutter of papers, folders, ledger books, broken quills, and endless other random odds and ends. “Chancellor Puddinghead, Cardinal Mage Clover and her associates are here to see you,” the pony who had led them in announced. “Very good, Smart Cookie.” Chancellor Puddinghead nodded from behind the desk. Celestia studied her for a moment, and was silently taken aback. This pony had a ratty grey-brown mane in a ridiculously overwrought bun. Her mess of a lemon-yellow coat clearly needed a thorough brushing, and when she looked back at Celestia, it was with muddy dull green eyes that seemed hazy and distracted. This wasn’t how Celestia had imagined somepony in the high office of chancellor. Then again, she asked herself, what should a chancellor look like? She didn’t exactly know what she was expecting. Smart Cookie, on the other hoof, looked much more professional and put-together despite her obviously lower station. She walked off to one side of the office and sat down at a much smaller desk, where she resumed working on what looked like the tedious task of transcribing correspondence by hoof. Celestia, well acquainted with this kind of busywork from her apprenticeship days, felt an instinctive pang of sympathy for her. “Good afternoon, Cardinal,” Puddinghead said. “Sorry to keep you waiting.” “Not at all,” Clover replied. “I know you must be very busy.” “Oh my, yes. So much needs my attention. You know, earth pony problems.” Puddinghead waved a hoof in a dismissive gesture carrying an undertone of contempt. “Not things unicorns would understand.” “Err, no, of course not, Chancellor.” Clover flashed a dull smile, which Puddinghead didn’t seem to notice. “We wouldn’t presume to know about ‘earth pony problems.’ We’re here today to discuss more of a mutual issue, something affecting unicorns and earth ponies alike.” “Oooh! Ooooh! Let me guess. Is it hoof rot?” Puddinghead ventured. “Tooth rot? Hoof and tooth rot?” Her eyes widened dramatically while she gasped and reared up over her desk. “Oh no! You’re here about hoof-and-mouth disease?!” She made a show of examining her forehooves. “…No, Chancellor.” Clover shook her head slowly. “We’re not here to talk about any kind of disease.” “Whew!” Puddinghead slumped back down into her chair and wiped imaginary sweat from her brow. “Don’t scare me like that, then. Hard on the ol’ heart, you know?” She tapped the left side of her chest with one hoof. “Indeed.” Clover looked at the Chancellor askance. “My apologies.” “So what are you here for?” Puddinghead asked. “Nothing less than the future of all ponykind,” Clover said. “Unicorns and earth ponies alike.” Puddinghead gave her a suspicious look with one eye half-closed. “What about pegasuseses?” she asked. “They’re part of ponykind, too. Technically. I mean, if you want to call those bird-brained savages ponies.” “Yes, I suppose it should go without saying that the pegasi have a stake in this as well.” Clover cocked her head in thought. “Although I suspect they’re much less exposed and in a far better position to deal with the crisis, if it becomes one. Anyway—” “Did you say crisis?” Puddinghead’s ears pricked up. “I’m afraid there’s a very real danger of things getting to that point.” Clover nodded. “If you’d let me explain, that’s why I’m—” “Smart Cookie!” Puddinghead suddenly bellowed without warning, making Celestia startle. “Bring me my crisis kit!” Smart Cookie let out a long-suffering sigh while she slowly set her quill back in the inkpot on her tiny desk. “It’s still on your desk from when you needed it yesterday, Chancellor,” she said. “And the day before. And the day before that.” “Where?” Puddinghead hunted around the cluttered desk with her eyes. “I don’t— Ahh. Here we go.” She lunged toward a metal box off on the far left edge, swept her forelegs around it, and pulled it to the center. After fumbling with its latches using her hooves for a moment, she opened it. “Oh, good,” she said, looking inside. “There’s still some cookies left.” To demonstrate, she pulled one out and stuffed it in her mouth, swallowing it down in one gulp. “Cookies?” Clover asked. “Of course cookies.” Puddinghead huffed and rolled her eyes as if exasperated by having to explain the obvious. “How am I supposed to do my best thinking if I can’t keep my blood sugar up? Brain fuel, that’s what sugar is. Making sure you have plenty of it is the secret to always being able to think anywhere. At the office, at home, underwater, in a chimney… anywhere, I tell ya!” “Is that so?” Clover looked skeptical. Celestia heard Smart Cookie mutter something about how she was pretty sure all that sugar mostly ‘just made the Chancellor gain weight.’ “What was that, Smart Cookie?” Puddinghead leaned forward over her desk, frowning. “I said, that’s what makes our Chancellor so dang great!” Smart Cookie said more loudly, turning to look at Puddinghead and putting on a saccharine smile. “Oh. Yep, you betcha I am!” Puddinghead replied, with her own self-satisfied grin. “Here, try it for yourself.” She turned the box and pushed it across her desk towards Clover. Clover and both of the sisters stepped forward and glanced inside curiously. Aside from the baked goods, there were eye-catching gleams of bright gold coins. “This is… just cookies, and bits,” Clover said in confusion. “A lot of bits.” “Well, duh, bits.” Puddinghead stared at Clover as if she’d suddenly grown a second horn. “That’s the other half of what it takes to succeed in politics: you can solve any crisis by throwing enough money at it.” “That’s… an interesting perspective, I suppose?” Clover pondered. “But I’m not so sure it’s going to work this time.” “Of course it’ll work.” Puddinghead snorted. “Trust me, I know these things. That’s why I’m a chancellor and you’re not.” “Yeah, that must be it,” Smart Cookie breathed almost inaudibly. Celestia turned to look just in time to catch her rolling her eyes. “Now, now,” Puddinghead admonished her secretary. “You know you can’t be a smart cookie with a crummy attitude!” “Sorry, Chancellor,” Smart Cookie said, then went back to transcribing letters. “You’re right. I should just focus on my work.” “Mmm-hmm!” Puddinghead nodded. “That’s what I thought.” “Perhaps I could explain what this looming crisis is, at least?” Clover pleaded. “Fine, fine.” Puddinghead rolled a hoof and settled back in her chair, with her muzzle in the air and her eyes closed. “Bore me with the details, if you must.” “What if I told you that in a few decades, or maybe less, there will be no more earth ponies?” Puddinghead cracked open one eye. “Say what, now?” “What if I told you there was a plan being worked on as we speak, and it would make earth ponies unnecessary to the Unicorn Kingdom?” Clover continued. “What if unicorns were working on replicating earth pony magic, and once they can do that, they would deliberately prevent any new earth ponies from being born in order to engineer their extinction?” Puddinghead suddenly reared up over her desk, scowling furiously at Clover. “I’d say you’re a dirty troublemaking liar!” she growled. “That’s impossible. They would never!” “But they would, and it’s true!” Celestia stepped forward. “I was working on this project myself until recently. You have to believe us.” “And who are you?” Puddinghead cast a suspicious eye on Celestia. “My name is Celestia,” she said. “I’m a solarite—well, thaumite, now, I guess—in the Thaumosciences Authority. Until a few weeks ago, I was working in the field on research assignments in support of this project, first investigating the effects of the worsening weather and then the mechanisms of how earth pony magic influences crop growth. My supervising mage told me herself that she and her superiors were hoping for it to lead to unicorn control over earth pony magic as an ultimate goal.” “What about her?” Puddinghead jabbed a hoof in Luna’s direction. “That’s my sister, Luna,” Celestia said. “She’s here because she’s working with us on an important part of our plan to stop this from happening.” “Oooooh.” Puddinghead rolled her eyes. “I see. Now there’s a plan and everything. Well, I’d like to hear it!” “That… is… why we’re here.” Clover’s voice seethed through her gritted teeth. “As I’ve been trying to tell you!” “Well, why didn’tcha say so?” Puddinghead instantly shifted her demeanor, putting on a smile. “Go ahead, then.” “Thank you.” Clover cleared her throat. “Now. After careful consideration among ourselves, my two colleagues and I have concluded that the only course of action to restore sustainability to ponykind’s situation is to arrange for the independence of earth ponies. We propose resettling as many of them as possible further south on the continent, outside the borders of the Unicorn Kingdom, in a warmer climate and in new, more fertile lands.” “And the Unicorn Kingdom agreed to this?” Puddinghead looked puzzled. “Not, umm… not exactly.” Clover tapped one forehoof on the floor, fidgeting. “We haven’t proposed this to the court of Princess Platinum. Given that this plan would contravene their current policies, it’s doubtful they would be interested in allowing us to implement it. Instead, we believe we’ll need to apply some… strategic pressure to persuade them into cooperation.” “‘Strategic pressure?’” Puddinghead giggle-snorted while she made air-quotes with her front hooves. “You and what army?” “Not with an army—” Clover shook her head, then stared at Puddinghead in raw earnest, “—but with the heavens themselves. That’s why things will truly change. We’re going to wrest the sun and the moon from the control of the Unicorn Kingdom. With that as our weapon, we’re going to make this world into the better place it should be.” The mirth slowly faded from Puddinghead’s face. “Go on,” she said, suddenly very sober. “These two sisters are by far the most talented solarite and lunarite born in this generation,” Clover explained. “I have no doubt that they have the power to take direct control over the sun and moon, and they’ve been shown a vision that this migration south is meant to be. Once we can make it happen, the days of cold oppression are over, and a warm new morning will dawn. I promise you that.” An electric thrill of excitement coursed down Celestia’s back and she could feel the hairs of her mane bristling on her neck as Clover spoke. “I promise it as well, Chancellor.” She stepped forward, standing beside Clover. “We will succeed, and when we do, there will be a new sunrise, like nothing the world has ever seen.” Luna also stepped forward, nodding vigorously, looking at Puddinghead with fiery eyes. Faced with the three unicorns in solidarity, Puddinghead’s jaw momentarily dropped in astonishment. Just for a moment, as if she was staring out through a doorway letting in brilliant sunlight both glorious and fearsome that she was unsure about stepping into and embracing, Celestia could see the conflict in her green eyes, hope struggling against doubt… But not for long. The light faded. Doubt won. With a sinking heart, Celestia watched it happening and she knew that the possibilities for the future they’d tried to offer were being rejected. She could almost feel the way something cruel and petty bubbled up in their place, making Puddinghead’s face harden and her mouth close, twisting her lips into a sardonic cunning smile under those muddy, hazy eyes. “Well, well, well,” the Chancellor said slowly. Her ever-widening grin gave Celestia a bad feeling. “So what you’re saying is, you’re planning a rebellion. Because that sounds like a rebellion to me.” “If you like to call it that,” Clover said softly. “I sure do!” Puddinghead laughed. “And so will the Unicorn Kingdom, when they hear about it.” Clover’s ears flattened and she narrowed her eyes. “And why would the Unicorn Kingdom hear about it?” “Oh, silly Clover, you don’t think I can just not tell them, do you?” Puddinghead asked. “I mean, how would it look when you inevitably get caught, and it all comes out—and then the unicorns realize that we had a meeting and you must have told me all of this, but I didn’t tell them?” “I don’t know,” Clover deadpanned. “You tell me. How would it look?” “Pretty BAD, that’s how!!” Puddinghead shouted. “But on the other hoof, when I turn you in, they’ll know they backed the right horse. Oh, they’re gonna loooove me! The loyal ally, working to keep the troublemakers and rabble-rousers from ruining everything. That’s good old Chancellor Puddinghead.” Clover sighed. “I see.” “Well, girls, I’m glad we had our little meeting, but I’m afraid I’m out of time for this appointment.” Puddinghead reared up. “GUARDS!” she roared at the top of her lungs, so loud it made Celestia wince and flatten her ears. After her yell died down, Puddinghead looked smug for a moment, but it quickly gave way to confusion when the ringing silence kept dragging on. “Where are those slowpokes?!” She wondered after a few seconds, pounding her desk with an impatient hoof. “They’re not coming,” Clover said calmly. “I doubt you noticed, not having a horn and all, but I magically soundproofed the room on my way in. Seemed the smart thing to do.” Puddinghead sucked in air through her teeth, hissing. “Unicorn trickery!” she spat, suddenly performing an impressive leap out of her chair and over her desk and trying to bolt for the door. “I should have kno—” Clover’s horn was already glowing before the Chancellor hit the ground. Puddinghead’s entire body was surrounded by a deep gold aura and she was held suspended in the air, legs still flailing at a gallop. “Have a seat, Chancellor,” Clover said, floating Puddinghead back to her chair behind the desk. “I think you’re a little worked up. Understandable, though. This kind of thing can easily get a pony emotional and over-excited. Let’s just calm down, shall we? A nap, maybe. Yes, a nap would do you a world of good. Now, don’t mind us, you just get some sleep.” The gold glow around Clover’s horn fluctuated, shifting in subtle patterns as new spell-threads were woven in. “Get… some sleep…” Puddinghead yawned while her eyes drooped shut. “Okay.” She laid her head down on her desk and went out like a light in seconds. The glow of magic slowly faded, and the only movement was her chest slowly expanding and contracting rhythmically in her slumber. Smart Cookie stood motionless in front of her little desk at the side of the room, watching everything happen with eyes wide open in shock. Clover lowered her head and turned to look apologetically at Celestia and Luna. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I hate to resort to these kinds of methods, especially after what we talked about. It’s not how we wanted to do things, I know. I wish I could have found a better way.” “I wish so too, but I have to admit, I’m not sure what other choice there was,” Luna said. “Right.” Celestia nodded. “I would have liked this to be a constructive meeting, but if she’s determined to give us away…” Clover sighed. “I thought perhaps she’d have enough of a little spark of vision to see her way past being a greedy puppet for the Unicorn Kingdom. Maybe I should have known better. But as always, they call me clever, not wise.” “Is she gonna be okay?” Smart Cookie fretted, moving from her own tiny desk and walking over to check on Puddinghead. “What’d you do to her?” “No need to worry, it’s simple magic,” Clover said. “She’s taking a little nap, and when she wakes up, she won’t remember the last hour or so—long enough for her to forget this meeting ever even happened. She’s unharmed beyond that.” “Well, she’d better be alright.” Smart Cookie frowned. “I don’t know how I’d explain it if something were to happen to her. And I tried to tell you when you were first arranging this harebrained appointment, she wasn’t going to listen.” “Yes, you did.” Clover nodded. “And I should have listened to you, Ms. Cookie. I just thought the chance to do the right thing had to be offered to her. It’s only fair. Besides, even if it was a longshot, the risk was worth taking. She may be little more than a figurehead, but even so, her visibility as a public figure would have been a great asset in helping to gain support among earth ponies.” “Guess you’ve got a point there,” Smart Cookie admitted. “As crazy as she is, she’s got some kinda way of getting ponies to go along with her. Can’t account for it, myself, but maybe I’m too close, being in the office all day every day with the buffoon, practically doing her job for her while she gets to sit at the big desk and get the glory. But anyway, like I told you, I’ll do what I can to help get things moving, even if we have to do this without her.” “Wait, so you already knew about this before we ever even had a meeting with Chancellor Puddinghead?” Celestia asked, looking back and forth between Clover and Smart Cookie. “Of course.” Smart Cookie nodded. “Who do you think writes the Chancellor’s schedule and makes all her appointments? I wasn’t gonna just let somepony waltz in without me knowing what they were up to.” “It’s true.” Clover nodded as well. “She made me spill everything before I could even get us in the door. But that’s her job, of course. A good secretary can basically run the world from behind the scenes, if she wants.” “Aww, you flatterer.” Smart Cookie smiled. “Maybe that’s a bit much. Anyway, it’s too bad about Puddinghead, but it won’t make much difference. There’s a lot of discontentment and you’ll find plenty of earth ponies ready to strike out for just about anywhere the Unicorn Kingdom isn’t. You’re really sure about all this, though, controlling the sun and the moon and leading earth ponies south to somewhere warm?” “Absolutely.” Clover nodded. “Well, I look forward to seeing if you can pull it off,” Smart Cookie said. “Things aren’t exactly going well for us, and I don’t think there’s any real secret about that.” “No, there’s not.” Clover shook her head. She glanced back at Puddinghead’s slumbering form. “I hope I haven’t caused you too much trouble.” “What? The Sleeping Beauty trick?” Smart Cookie laughed. “Nah. Not as long as she’ll be alright. Her afternoon naps are when I get the most work done. I should get back to that soon, too, if she’ll be out for a while. Strike while the iron’s hot, you know?” “Alright. I guess we’re about done here, anyway,” Clover said. “Hey, look, stay in touch,” Smart Cookie said. “You can send any mail or messages about your plan to my home address, if you want. Less suspicious than sending things through this office, now that we know Puddinghead isn't cooperating.” She went to her desk and scribbled something down on a sheet of paper, then gave it to Clover. “Keep me up to date on how things are developing, and I’ll do what I can to help make this go smoothly on the earth pony side. I can’t promise much, but maybe I can do a few things here and there to assist.” “Thank you. It’s good to know we have at least one friend.” Clover nodded and took the paper, then tore off the lower half. She pulled the quill from Smart Cookie’s desk and wrote down another address on the blank half, which Celestia recognized as Winter Wheat’s farm. “You can reach us here, if you learn anything we might like to know,” she said, giving the piece of paper back to Smart Cookie. “We’ll be off, if that’s all.” “Oh, uh, one more thing,” Smart Cookie said. “Whatever you’re doing, I’d suggest doing it soon. If earth ponies are gonna go, it should be in winter, before spring comes and all the farmers start to plant.” “Why is that?” Luna asked. “Because earth ponies are tied to the work they’ve invested in the land. It’s always been how we survive. Once there are sown crops to tend, nopony’s going to be willing to just leave them behind. That’s the whole year’s food, gone to waste. We’d starve. Nor would there be any seed left to plant new ones when we get where we’re going, either.” “Before spring?” Clover looked worried. “My. I hope that’s not too much time pressure.” Celestia and Luna glanced nervously at each other. “We’ll… umm…” Luna trailed off. “…Do our best,” Celestia finished for her. ​    ☙ ☀ ❧     “What are we going to do?” Luna asked despondently. The last dim light of sunset was coming through the windows, heralding that Luna’s daily efforts and struggles with the moon had just ended, and Celestia’s turn with the sun was about to begin. “I don’t know.” Celestia stared down at what was in front of her on the table, simple but good earth pony food arrayed on a rough tin plate. Winter Wheat, whether out of hospitality or some deep-rooted mothering instinct, kept insisting on leaving hearty meals prepared for the two sisters while they were living in her house. Celestia appreciated it, but unfortunately, with her nerves in the state they were in, she’d only managed to get down about a third of dinner before her stomach felt like it was in too many knots to handle more. “I’m not getting anywhere, let alone making any kind of progress that could put us on track to be done before spring,” Luna complained. “I work myself sore every day, but none of my ideas seem to be leading to anything.” “I know, we’re both finding it challenging,” Celestia said. She found herself trying to put on a brave face, even as she herself struggled inside with her own anxieties. “Just… try not to think about the pressure.” Don’t think about the pressure? Really? She immediately felt dumb. It seemed like patently ridiculous advice—how were they supposed to somehow not think about the one thing that consumed their every waking hour?—but she had no idea what else to say. “I’m just so frustrated.” Luna scowled at a pile of steamed carrots on her own plate. “So am I.” Celestia nodded. “…I’m also scared,” Luna admitted with reticence. “Don’t be.” “But what if we can’t do it?” Luna continued. “What if we fail everypony?” Celestia got up and walked around to Luna’s side of the table, and gently hugged her from behind. “We won’t.” Luna nodded, quiet in her sister’s embrace for a moment. “I hope not.” “Things are better than when we started, at least,” Celestia pointed out. “The two of us overcame our problem and we’re still sisters. We cleared things up with Cardinal Clover and set the right direction for where we want this… whatever it is we’re doing… to go. Things didn’t work out with Puddinghead, but now we know to go to Smart Cookie instead. Maybe all that groundwork had to be laid out first, before we were ever going to be able to reach beyond the sky. Maybe it’s only just now that we’re finally ready to start.” “Maybe,” Luna agreed, with a small nod. “But if it’s as simple as that, then what are we still missing?” Celestia thought for a long moment. She hadn’t a clue. “We’ll find it,” she decided. “Speaking of, the sun’s down. I need to start soon.” She kissed her sister on the side of the head. “Goodnight, Luna.” “Goodnight, Celestia.” Luna nuzzled her back briefly. “Good luck.” “With any luck,” Celestia mused, “soon it won’t be a matter of luck.”