//------------------------------// // The Tales Completed (Lyra's Lessons) // Story: Tales of the Celestian Days With(out) Cake // by SparklingTwilight //------------------------------// TWENTY-ONE: A Challenge "Would the pony who captured a photograph please come forward?" Celestia requested, her voice forcibly even. The audience parted and turned toward the culprit, a lime-mint-coated pony who, with a faltering smile, grinned back a winning flash of pearly-whites. But Celestia was unmoved. "Please, approach." Celestia chose her strategy carefully. Her decisions were carefully watched. "Could you please tell us your name?" "Lyra. It's Lyra. Lyra Heartstrings." The pony blinked. Celestia recognized her subject. She attended Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns and Celestia had taught her a number of times. Lyra should have been in class right now. "May I ask," Celestia started, "what it is you have been doing here?" "...taking a photograph," she said. "I understand. May I see it?" Celestia asked. "I ahhh... sent it away." "How?" "Teleportation." "Truly?" Teleportation was a difficult spell. Lyra was not a good student... though maybe the evaluation of a lack of skill had resulted not because of a dearth of same but due to a dearth of practice. "Not very far," Lyra shrugged. "I'm not that good." "Can you retrieve it?" "Not really," Lyra said. "It's in a locked dropbox just outside but I can't teleport it back." "That's all right." Celestia nodded to some of her guards. None moved. They didn't get the idea. "Go fetch the photograph." Her desires were clarified. "But, Princess, we might have to break in." Celestia glowered. Some things shouldn't be said. The guard, presumably not completely witless, responded to the glower with a quick nod and, along with a partner, he left. "Why are you taking such photographs?" Celestia asked. Lyra was blunt and she could guess the implication. "Unflattering ones?" Celestia nodded. "It pays. 20 bits for a weird facial expression, 10 for a cross look. Beaucoup bits for something special--" The audience grumbled. Photographs of them in unflattering positions while at court had permeated in recent months. "And you have been coming to court how often?" Celestia, now that she focused on her memories, recalled seeing Lyra in the audience before, but that lime-green pony had nearly escaped her notice. Lyra apparently was an expert background pony, hovering just on the edge of notice--another surprising talent. Celestia worried about how many other talents among her students she might have missed. Was Twilight Sparkle really the best student of her generation? Had Celestia been negligent--enough with those thoughts! She calmed herself, but reflected that the rot in her brain, like a cake decaying from the inside out, was taking its toll. "Twice a week; sometimes three times." "But your classes are scheduled during this time." "I know." Lyra hung her head. "But I've got a good reason. The bits aren't just so I can eat fancy cake and jazz." "Jazz?" Celestia asked. "It's an expression--means stuff." Celestia's audience nodded. Apparently she wasn't as well studied on the language's evolution as she had thought. But Celestia could quickly adapt and appear to have mastery of every situation. "Then spill the jazz on me, student." Somepony in the audience chortled, but rapidly stifled it. Neologisms could be tricky... sometimes they had multiple meanings. Celestia was getting old... and less adroit at repositioning just as she had become less adept at swallowing stacks of cakes as she had in years past. She cleared her throat and went with a more standard request: "Ahem. Please explain yourself, Lyra." TWENTY-TWO: Lyra's Tale "It is a tale of woe, Princess Celestia. Please do not weep." Lyra bowed before her liege. "We are not worried about that," Celestia frowned, girding herself to endure the coming sob story that promised to be a tapestry of excuses. "As you know, I attend your School for Gifted Unicorns." "Mmmm... Hmmm." Celestia nodded her head. "But studying costs bits, and not just in terms of economic opportunity cost. As you know, my parents disowned me after the incident." "Yes, the incident." Celestia had no idea, but she'd lose even more face if she admitted her memory wasn't what it once was or that she didn't know important news. But unlike with the 'jazz' situation of moments past, she wouldn't push her luck; she'd keep her response brief. Celestia nodded sagely. "So, I sell gossip to the rags: Celestian Sun, Equestrian Inquirer, et. cetera. Anonymously. Or at least I had been anonymous before." She shrugged. "It made it easier to blend into the background. I know the rags can be mean-spirited and I know some ponies don't like it when their names are in print, at least with the photos I've taken, but it pays real well." She looked around at angry, long-drawn faces. "And, although I believe we already covered the mechanics of this issue and we could make a logical leap to a conclusion, but to make it clear--how do you pass gossip on anonymously?" Lyra grinned, probably at her resourcefulness and hopefully not at the derision she derived. "I pop off photos and stories with a short-range teleportation." She had done this short-range 'teleportation' magic quite often. Interesting. Lyra was a decent student when she focused. But by no means was the daydreamer a good student. She slept in class almost as much as Celestia dozed during day court. Yet, despite that disappointment, she had been teleporting gossip. Teleportation spells were not easy, Celestia reminded herself. Few unicorns could manage that spell except over very short visible distances. Her prize student Twilight Sparkle, of course, could do better than that, but her brilliance shouldn't blind Celestia to anypony overcoming the depressingly common infantile limitations that shackled her other little ponies. "And why, specifically, do you need the funding?" Celestia dreaded potential political fallout from the answer; she hoped Lyra was just paying for instruments, cameras, toys, and bon-bons.(Not this Bon Bon, though she may be important later. This bonbon.) Not a bonobo. They, like humans, don't exist.) But Celestia feared the answer might be political. "I need it for my boarding." Nobles gasped. Celestia sighed. Her Gifted Unicorns were educated for free, an experiment that had initially resulted in overwhelming class sizes--which had been dealt with by winnowing classes by testing to only be supplemented with the most motivated and talented unicorns. For boarding, those unicorns usually stayed at their homes or paid discounted rates to reside at the Castle. Although the crown's purse was large, one did not want to encourage families to take advantage and the earth ponies and pegasi were quick to complain when unicorns appeared to receive unfair treatment. So, Celestia relied on the less monetarily-endowed students to (easily) petition for subsidized or free housing. But, one could only assist individuals who petitioned. Lyra's family had not; and, for whatever reason, neither had Lyra. "You never asked for boarding assistance," Celestia noted. Lyra frowned. "I want to make my own way in the world." Celestia sighed. "I don't wanna be dependent on anyone for anything. I wanna be like Fried Mare or Rags Rich!" Famous self-made mares, long dead. Celestia supposed she couldn't blame Lyra for her ambition: though her actions had not been necessary--Lyra didn't need to go through the tribulations of those mares because of reforms Celestia had made. But maybe... Celestia wondered. Maybe this is why her little ponies had grown so somnolent and fearful. They didn't struggle, they just depended on their tall sun mommy to take care of their every whim. That was also why her court sessions had grown increasingly lengthy. She needed to start weaning her babes. Maybe this Lyra had a point, even if it involved trading shameful gossip about Celestia, nobles, and other court petitioners. Celestia could see angered expressions from a number of powerful nobles, her adopted sometimes-violent-minded "nephew" Prince Blueblood among them. (She had adopted him after a cake-fueled decision-making marathon court session--a decision that had perhaps done more harm than good.) Lyra continued. "Since 'the Incident', I've known that I need to prove myself. I've known that I need to demonstrate that yes I can!" "What?" "Yes I can!" "Where's that slogan from?" It seemed vaguely familiar. "Me!" "But where did you hear it?" "I made it up." (She had not, but Celestia, who only vaguely recalled the phrase originated from a famous historical incident wasn't going to press the point). "And what are your goals?" Celestia moved the conversation ahead. "I want to live on my own! Or with a roommate; I'm realistic about rent and the cost of oppressive taxation." Celestia raised an eyebrow. "I wanna play my lyre and that will pay for a bit of bits, but it won't pay for everything." Lyra pulled her lyre from off her back, showing it to her Princess. "Your instrument looks well-kept," Celestia complimented, even though she really didn't want to--but social niceties were expected. "Thank you," Lyra blushed, and she bowed a bit. "And I want to live outside of Canterlot; away from my parents." "Your parents are here and yet, you were boarding?" Celestia asked. "Yes; that's why I didn't have any boarding discount. I've had to work hard for everything. I'm not a parasite. I'm a pony being!" She stressed that second word, part of some last-century political slogan, Celestia recalled. "It's harmed my school performance a bit," Lyra noted. "But it's not like I'm a Twilight Sparkle." She hung her head. "I see," Celestia nodded, interrupting the increasingly depressing spiel. Lyra's parents, she could just barely recall, were quite wealthy. Since they could afford the price, Celestia wouldn't have cut them a break. "So, about this lyre of yours," Celestia asked, gazing upon Lyra's cutie mark of a lyre. "It seems to be your special talent?" "Yes. Yes!" Then, before Celestia could speak, Lyra desperately added: "Delight in my talent!" And she started playing her lyre, which she pulled off a strap on her back. Then she sputtered to a stop, reconsidering her boldness. "Please, if you like. I hope you will find it to your pleasure." Celestia gestured for her to continue. The music might lighten the increasingly tense mood--although, probably not. At least it would give Celestia time to weigh implications of the Lyra problem. She needed to consider how Lyra's situation had gone unnoticed, consider how that made Celestia look incompetent, consider how Lyra made nobles and court-goers look ridiculous with her surreptitiously gathered gossip, and consider how Lyra had developed greater magical talent than Celestia and other teachers had realized.... Lyra's magic plucked multiple strings--admittedly an accomplishment. Celestia pondered. Perhaps Lyra could defend herself from reprisals for the gossip she had spread. Celestia noted Prince Blueblood's vicious scowl--he took the concept of enforced harmony too far.... You instruct some ponies about goodness and they somehow misunderstand the spirit and tangle themselves among weeds of rules and regulations and punishment. Perhaps, despite the enemies she had stirred, Lyra would be okay. Perhaps. And then again, distance would increase the likelihood of her safety. Although Lyra had proved herself to be a competent magic-user and although Celestia wanted her little ponies to be more self-reliant, Celestia couldn't help but meddle. She wanted the rush of knowing that she had made a difference. Like Lyra, Celestia wanted not to be a parasite. Parasites would have consumed Celestia's cake by now, if it hadn't been kept under preservation spells and reserved for the royal person, but still, by now, the cake must have been teetering on the edge of staleness. Celestia grimaced. Between that consideration and after hours upon hours of talk and water and wine, she badly needed to go to the bathroom. Not wanting to go through the courtly rigamarole of adjourning and rejoining for a break that would fill her with all the more temptation to devour the succulent sweet cake that once consumed would send her into a delirium, Celestia decided she had no remaining time left to walk a pony through an existential crisis on this perhaps last day before Equestria was plunged into endless night. She rolled her eyes and decided: "Graduation is in a few months. However, your demonstrations are intriguing. Let us have your final test now." Gasps passed throughout the court. Celestia ignored them; shock and outrage were a near-constant choir. The more somnolent and predictable and kind she was with her pronouncements, the more predictability was expected. So Celestia ruled her ponies with greatest care--perhaps too much. If she raised an eyebrow half an inch more today than it had been raised yesterday, the arching could provoke gasps. She was tired of that--moreso since she realized that the prepared cake--the stale-becoming cake that was awaiting her--might very well be the *last* daycake on which she might dine. For tomorrow, when her sister arrived, Celestia might die. Lyra, however, wasn't destined to that fate, or to any other terrible end (although like most creatures she would probably perish if Nightmare Moon managed to institute eternal night--there was only so much lichen and mushrooms that could be consumed--and stars could only glow so bright). At least, to the extent of her personal fate, Lyra was not destined to suffer if she'd accept Celestia's help. And she would. Celestia had noted a hook, a bit of a rivalry when a certain personal student had been mentioned. So Celestia spoke: "When you pass your test today, you will gain good notoriety, dear little pony. You will be able to canter on your own four hooves, proclaiming to employers and musical listeners that you demonstrated such talent that you graduated before even my personal student, Twilight Sparkle." Lyra's eyes lit up and her playing abruptly cut off. "You say you do not wish to spread gossip, though. I will appreciate if you will formally swear off that occupation. It is not savory." Celestia fixed Lyra with a judicious stare. "Hey!" Somepony, probably a journalist or a spouse or relative of one, voiced an objection. "Of course some ponies need to spread the truth. But gossip is not vetted, no?" Celestia asked. "Fact-checking to it is foreign. Journalism, however, is a sister to facts and checking of same, is it not?" Her eyes, bleary from daydreaming, exhaustion and the glare of a setting sun, could not fix themselves on the anonymous likely-journalist, so her general comments alone would have to suffice to rhetorically intimidate the objecting pony. "And, of course, Lyra has stated she feels embarrassed by the career. I would not challenge her truth. She should follow her heart: earn lucre another way." Lyra looked back at her cutie mark, which, like her instrument, was a lyre. Celestia nodded. "The tips are poor. Even with notoriety--few make their living by music outside of the orchestra--" "Split living costs with a roommate. You mentioned a willingness to compromise." Lyra nodded. "And I've been lonely," she whispered, almost too soft to be heard. "Yes," Celestia said. "I am certain you will be able to locate a roommate, as you have proven yourself quite resourceful." To herself, she added the thought: '... perhaps too resourceful in stirring up trouble, but I know just the right mare to enter into your orbit who can keep you alive on Equus.' Lyra's eyes lit up. TWENTY-THREE. Fin And, with Lyra's dismissal, day court was finished.(Although the concept of night court had become obsolete after the banishment of Celestia's sister, she, out of custom, still thought of her 'court' as day court.) Inquisitive Lyra had been foiled, the dropbox containing her undermining photo-snap confiscated, and she was sent to Ponyville--at a mere fetlock's distance from Canterlot, but once one is out of sight, one may become out of mind--Celestia hoped the adage rang true. The gossipy pony would be surreptitiously--via a contrived coincidence--set up to live with an agent of the State, née Agent Sweetie Drops, now 'Bon Bon' who Celestia knew was itching for more action even though she had been sent into mandatory semi-retirement. That crackerjack mare had been living incognito as a sweets merchant ever since that terrible bugbear incident collapsed one of her lungs and her trachea. She'd probably gallop at the opportunity to get back into the action of doing more than just sending an occasional report to Celestia... even if the task was simply more detailed observation and intervention. If Lyra strayed from the path, and Celestia suspected she would, Bon Bon would know what to do. Celestia licked her lips and sent for the cake. But it was gone. It had gone off. Spoiled. Her lodestar--her goal throughout her struggles... It was a lie! "No," her chef insisted. A new cake would be made. In fact, another had been cooking in the oven--this was not the first time such a spoliation situation had occurred. But it was nearly Celestia's bedding time. Court had spilled over into her hour of dinner and final relaxation. Sugar and spice would be ever-so nice, but it would also keep her awake, even moreso than the nightmares all night--what a fright.Ref; Video Celestia sighed and she trotted to her chambers. No cake. But she would persevere. Tomorrow was a new day; the Summer Sun Celebration was nigh, and on it, she would die. Or persevere. Or be preserved on the moon in place of her sister in salt and sulfites so she wouldn't rot--hopefully. But maybe she would. She was already well over a thousand years old. Her era was done. She had failed. But either way, she would soon sleep interrupted. And maybe that was what really mattered. Sleep could be as sweet as cake to her aching mind. She readied her special night clothing, then lay down and closed her eyes. TWENTY-FOUR: Optional Bonus Nightmare Nightish Chapter A dream. "...Cupcakes! Delightful. No nightmares tonight? But... BLEARGHAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Soylent cupcakes are ponies! BLOOOORRRGHHHHHHH. Another dream. A Rainbow Factory. Tentatively, that seemed nice. But, no! No! No! How could they make Rainbows from processed--BLEEEAAAHHHHHHHHH! A different dream. Another weather factory. A tour? How weather gets made? Yelloowwww Raiiinnn(T-Rated Story)! URBPHGGGGG. Why pegasi! Why! NOOOOOOOO! ...On otherwise-perfect cakes. URGGGGGHHHHHH." Of course it was a nightmare... This time. But for the next night... there was hope.