//------------------------------// // Chapter 8: Counting Votes // Story: Sun & Moon Act II: A Crown Divided // by cursedchords //------------------------------// “In Equestria, success is measured by one’s ability to predict and work around the whims of the Princesses.” - Pensive Prose A tap on the wall behind her caught Celestia’s attention, bringing her mind firmly back into the present. A servant was standing in the hall, his head bowed low in respect. “Senator Prose is here to see you, your Highness.” The senator, of course. She hadn’t realized how much time had gone by while she stood here in recollection. Calmly, Celestia walked back into her office, clearing a little bit of space on the desk, and set the marked up Food Act to one side there. Once she had properly situated herself, she nodded to the servant, who vanished, to be replaced by the senator only a moment later. Pensive Prose was a middle-aged unicorn, with a coat that had already succumbed to the dullness of age, and a mane of deep brown that was rapidly going that way too. It was at least still full and healthy, parted off to the right in a style that had recently come into vogue here in Canterlot. Apparently it was meant to emphasize the horn in its little patch of the forehead, though to Celestia’s taste it looked like an awful lot of work for something of so little value. Her own mane was of course trailing on the floor behind her, but she had it sensibly clipped back over her neck. That took her all of two minutes every morning, and surely the effect was much the same. In addition to the usual senator’s sash, Pensive was also wearing a crisp, white collar, with a dark blue tie reaching down the front of his chest. Pensive extended a hoof along with a confident grin as he came up to the table. Celestia rose to meet him, though for her part she stayed serious. “Thank you for meeting with me, Senator Prose.” “Always a pleasure, your Highness,” he replied, his voice the usual oiled silk of Canterlot’s upper districts. “Have you been well?” “Well enough,” she nodded, before pulling his stack of parchment into the middle of the table again. “We have a few things to discuss regarding the Food Act.” “The usual legal concerns?” He leaned back in his chair, his smug confidence mixing with the minty smell of his cologne. “Whatever you think needs to change is probably fine. You know, the Senate really is lucky to have a clerk as diligent as we do. It makes a lot of our jobs much easier.” Unfazed, Celestia shook her head, letting the flattery wash over her. “Legally, the bill is actually surprisingly sound.” Which was saying something. She had used a whole bottle of red ink on the markup, but a portion of that had simply been due to the Act’s sheer length. In terms of content, it had been mostly consistent with existing law. “My concerns are more about how you intend to get this past the Senate. I have no concern with assenting to it when it lands in front of the throne, but I have heard rumblings of discontent from the rest of the chamber.” Pensive didn’t even blink. “You really shouldn’t put as much stock in Ink and her group as you do, your Highness. I have ponies working on assembling the votes. I think that we can count on enough support to get this thing through.” Celestia made a mental note of that. This confidence was new; perhaps his cabal had somehow managed to pull in a few more senators. “Even so, we can guarantee that the bill will pass if we can deliver the rural votes. And for a measure with this kind of impact on the agricultural market, I think that it would be very important to ensure that the farmers are on board.” That finally seemed to put a dent in his confidence. Clearly, he had hoped to avoid the rough nature of negotiations in coming here this morning. Still he maintained his composure and let out a deep breath. “Alright, what does she want?” With her magic, Celestia pulled out the particular slip of parchment where the program’s pricing structure was elaborated. “For the moment, the Act is creating a single market where the Crown buys the whole harvest, from every farmer in Equestria, and distributes the takings among the population. Ink tells me that the price you’ve put in here is too low. All that we need to do is deliver a fair deal, and the votes are secure.” “I think that she and I have a different definition of fair, then.” Pensive was back to smiling. “I’m trying to deliver a fair deal for our citizens too. There’s no point in gathering up the food if we’re only going to sell it back to the population at a price that nopony can afford. We’re not in the business of providing hoof-outs to farmers.” Celestia bit her tongue to hold back an icy response. Dealing with the Senate was trying at the best of times, but Pensive just had a way about him, more than any other senator. Somehow he always succeeded in getting on her nerves. “The pricing in this Act is downright predatory, and we both know that well enough. For all of the hard work that our earth ponies put in, growing what they could in a year like this, they deserve proper compensation.” “And if the market was in a better state then surely they’d get that compensation,” he replied, still slick as cooking oil. “But we’re in desperate times, your Highness. Some extreme measures are going to have to be taken, and that means that some ponies are going to come out on top, and some on the bottom. I don’t like it any more than you or Ink or anypony here in Canterlot. But that’s just the way that this cookie is crumbling.” How convenient it was that the losing ponies never seemed to be the ones in his district, or those of any of his cronies. Yet, Celestia kept those thoughts to herself and maintained her professional demeanour. “All that I’m asking for is something that’s just a little bit more progressive. Surely we can move things just a touch and still keep everything affordable for the rest of the country?” Pensive let his eyelids droop as he considered it. It was situations like these that made Celestia wish she could have Luna around the office from time to time. If somepony could shout Pensive into submission once or twice a week it would certainly help her cause. But actually getting anything done in the Senate always required tact. Her sister had grown up in a world of definite goods and evils. Finding the middle ground in the unending grey area of the Senate was a job that Luna probably just wasn’t cut out for. “I’ll see what I can do,” he replied after a moment, his smugness slipping just a tic. “I can make no guarantees now with regard to my voting bloc, but we might be able to give you a little bit of room to manoeuvre. I suppose that I shall be needing that then?” He dipped his horn down to the stack of red parchment in front of them. “This one,” Celestia replied, hoisting a much cleaner, and significantly shorter, stack up onto the desk. Fully half of the reduction had come from rewriting it all in a less frilly script. “Ink will know which areas she’d like to go over.” She rose once more from the desk, prompting Pensive to do the same. Infuriating though he could be at times, he was at least a stickler for protocol. “With work, I do believe that we’ll be able to see this bill pass.” “Agreed, your Highness,” he said, straightening up his necktie while also smoothing out his mane. “I’ll see you at the vote this afternoon.” She gave him a shallow, curt nod, and Pensive turned about and casually walked out of the room. Celestia hoped that Ink would be able to work with him at least for now. The fact that he had given in meant that Pensive’s coalition clearly wasn’t airtight just yet. Even so, it would take work to make sure he didn’t achieve a clear majority. There would be an uproar from Ink’s seats if that happened. Celestia had never really considered herself a negotiator, at least not before she had placed herself in charge of the Senate. Three hundred years of assuaging fears and doling out favours had at least taught her the basic ropes of the sport. But even so, there were ponies out there who knew it far better than she did, and more often than not, it was those ponies who troubled her sleep, even more than the ongoing drought or anything else. Somehow, someday, she was going to have to put a stop to that. The Equestrian Senate was a square chamber with a high ceiling, its walls decorated with frescoes of various scenes from throughout the country, from the rising skylines of Manehattan to the sprawling hillsides of Fillydelphia, with new mining towers rising in the background. The ceiling had been painted with a recollection of the Chaos Storm that had taken Eridian on the day of Discord’s demise, three hundred years ago. Celestia had often felt that the roiling purple clouds and flashing, reality-destroying lightning was a fitting metaphor for the actions that often took place upon these seats. Seventy-five seats filled the room in a few concentric rows, around a raised wooden rostrum at the chamber’s near side. That was where Celestia usually sat, the chair’s gavel hers to command, as the storm clouds of bitter dispute boiled and churned in front of her. Today, though, one of the chamber’s pages was occupying the chair. Because there was a vote going on, Celestia needed to occupy her official position, on one of the pair of thrones that were nestled against the wall behind. Technically, Luna’s presence was required as well for votes such as these, but her sister’s seat had gone empty for decades now. One Princess alone didn’t have the power to overrule the other and the Senate combined, so whenever Celestia agreed to the motions put before her, then Luna’s vote was unnecessary. Out on the floor, the various senators were all still milling about, probably cutting last-minute deals in order to secure the various fragile allegiances and structures that kept the chamber in order. As usual, Celestia felt more than a little claustrophobic here on her throne. All around her were snatches of conversation, their meanings delivered in the occasional raised eyebrow or look of consternation from one senator to another. The fate of the nation could hang on those looks, as it all too often had, and Celestia had no power to intervene. Such was the sacrifice that she had made for this system, but overall she always felt that it had been worth it. Outside, in the palace’s garden, a bell tolled three times, marking the onset of the hours. It was answered by a sharp crack of the gavel, as the call to order began, and the senators started filing into their assigned seats. Celestia caught sight of Ink still speaking frantically to a few more members of her group, though the two others were both shaking their heads. Across the floor, Pensive was already in his seat, looking as relaxed as ever. Celestia wouldn’t have been surprised to see his legs up on his lectern if he weren’t such a formal pony. Once the roll had been called, the chair picked up the top page of the newly written act, this one the first of seventy-six copies which had been distributed to the chamber once Pensive and Ink had hammered out their final version. For the most part it was exactly the bill that had emerged from committee, with just a slight relaxation on pricing, as Ink had wanted. Hopefully it would be enough to carry it through. “To the chamber is put the question,” the speaker began, his voice raspy and a little difficult for Celestia to hear. At least the chamber had been designed to amplify the speaker’s words onto the seats, so the rest of the room could probably hear fine. “Where regards Senate Resolution #36, also to be known as the Food Act, shall it be approved or shall it be rejected? Those in approval shall say ‘Yea’.” There was a modestly loud shout of Yea’s from the crowd, though not the whole chamber by a long shot. “Those in opposition shall say ‘Nay’.” An equally loud chorus of Nay’s answered that prompt. Ink and Pensive both immediately put their hooves up to call for a vote by roll. This time, the votes were taken one by one, each senator standing either to submit a Yea or a Nay. Though the speaker made a notation on his parchment for each vote, it was left to the senators and Celestia to keep their own mental tallies. One by one Pensive’s group rose in approval: all nine of the Canterlot senators, all seven from Manehattan, four more from Fillydelphia and three more from Baltimare. Celestia let out a little breath, though of course she hadn’t expected anypony from that group to break ranks. It was Ink’s supporters that really mattered. Ink herself and the rest of the Canterlot foothills rose, taking the measure to twenty-seven in favour. With thirty-eight votes required to guarantee the measure’s passage, and twelve more votes in the rural bloc, things were looking good. The roll came then to Everfree North, a pot-bellied green stallion who was usually a reliable vote for Ink, yet this time he said Nay, eliciting a surprised whisper that went around the room. Pensive especially took note of that one, though the particulars of his reaction, whether he was heartened or disappointed, Celestia couldn’t quite say. From her place across the floor, though, Ink looked like she had been kicked in the gut. From there, the votes fell like a chain of dominoes. Everfree West, Barrier South, Plains South, and Riverbend, all voting Nay in defiance of Ink’s wishes. The rest of her bloc followed along with her, but with that many defections, there was no salvaging the measure. When the final tally was called, Ink’s face had taken on an ashen hue. Thirty-three for to forty-two against. Still, Pensive was an unreadable face across the aisle, which was equally strange given that he had called the vote in the first place. When the chair passed the motion to adjourn he and his cohorts headed right for the exits. That was alright, at least for now. Celestia had another mare in her sights. “You told me that you could deliver the votes,” Celestia began, sliding down into the seat right next to Ink’s lectern. She could see that the yellow earth pony had a tally of marks on the parchment on her desk, with about a half dozen names circled for follow-ups. “You said yourself that anypony thinking straight would see that this motion needed to be passed.” “Things have changed, your Highness,” Ink began, still taking down notes on her parchment, though her disappointment could be heard in her tone. “Some votes that I thought were secure have wandered on me instead. And Pensive barely gave me any room to move. There are ponies here who are really starting to dislike him.” “Well, we still need to get a measure passed, regardless of any of that. It’s going to be another day or so until we can put this measure back onto the timetable, hopefully with additional provisions to help you out in your negotiations. I can cover for you a little too, if you’d like.” Ink finished up with her list, then recapped her inkwell and passed it over. “Thank you, your Highness. Here are the names that we should be focusing on. If we can turn even two or three of these, the rest of my coalition might follow them. But honestly, I think that we might have bigger concerns than that.” Confused, Celestia’s head came up. “More important than making sure that the country doesn’t starve? I can’t say that I follow.” The normal colour had finally returned to Ink’s face, and she wore a calculating sternness now, her gaze fixed upon where Pensive had been sitting during the vote. By now most of the chamber had emptied out again, save for a few more clumps of ponies sitting about and discussing their own strategies. “It’s Pensive. He surely knew that he didn’t have the votes to carry the measure on his own. I was expecting him to put up a hard front, naturally, but for him not to budge at all for me was ridiculous. If I didn’t know better I would say that he wanted this vote to fail.” “You think so? Pensive is as slimy as a slug, but something like that is downright malevolent. He would have a lot to gain if the measure passed, after all.” If there was anything that could definitely be said about Pensive Prose, it was that he never shied away from the spotlight. A sizable chunk of the bills that passed the chamber bore markings of his work at least somewhere. Ink furrowed her brow, perhaps finding the concept just as improbable as Celestia did. “He must know that this measure is going to pass eventually. There’s simply no way that the Senate can go on without addressing the pressing shortages of food in the country. But what does it matter if it passes now or later? The sooner the better, clearly.” Unconvinced, Celestia got up from the desk. “I’m not buying it, Ink. It would seem to me that he’s just fallen victim to his own success, in that several of your senators think him so much of a dictator that they’re willing to stall this measure’s passage just to spite him. Our job now is to get this thing through however we can. But I will go talk to him again, I think. Perhaps now that he knows how stiff the resistance is, he’ll be willing to soften somewhat.” “As you like it, your Highness,” Ink answered. “I’ll probably be in meetings over this for most of the afternoon. Let me know if I have anything else that I can promise.” She gathered up her things in a hurry, and the two ponies parted ways in the hall. Ink headed off towards the north wing of offices, and Celestia walked slowly on into the south, her head still full of Ink’s accusations. Pensive was an uncooperative goat, that much was certain. But full obstructionism, especially for his own bill? And one so important too? It was simply too much to think. The halls were at least pleasantly cool, the wind whispering through the palace’s open windows chill enough to stave off the feeling of what was certainly an oven outside. Some days, Celestia even felt a small amount of envy for Luna’s arrangements up on the top of the mountain. Neither freezing one’s hooves off nor baking one’s wings was a pleasurable experience, but all that Luna had to do was hunker down in her office with a cozy hearth and a cup of cocoa, or perhaps something stronger if the day was particularly bad. The cool breeze, though a help, did only a little to keep things comfortable. And matters were usually heated enough without the weather getting in the way. Pensive’s office suite was no different from that of any other senator, though for some reason it always felt like his door was just a little bit more grand, the air inside just a little bit more regal than the others. Pensive’s staff kept a tight shift, and Celestia had only to walk in the door for a secretary to be off to warn the senator of her coming. When she got into the office proper, the unicorn was diligently writing away at his own stack of parchments, the quill wagging back and forth in elucidating the peculiar loops and curls of his script. Celestia sometimes wondered if unicorns simply wrote in complicated and floral lines to rub something in against earth ponies and pegasi. Though that wasn’t to say that she hadn’t seen virtuoso talents in quill manipulation from those who couldn’t use magic either. “Your Highness,” Pensive said once she was inside the door. “I hope that you haven’t come here to go on talking about that vote. I’m sure you could see that I delivered everything that I promised to. Some of us, you see, can keep a firm hold upon where we stand in the chamber.” “You agreed to work with Ink,” she retorted, the stiffness in the tone bringing his eyes up for once. “Her group is fragmented. They needed more concessions. Don’t think that I’m not disappointed with her, but some of the blame must fall on you too, Senator Prose.” “Ink’s demands were as muddy as a Manehattan river, your Highness,” he said, waving his hoof abstractedly as he spoke. “I simply couldn’t give her everything that she wanted, not without sacrificing the core of what made the system work in the first place. I told you that we are not in the business of giving away handouts, especially not with things as they are right now.” “Right, somepony needs to make concessions.” This time she brought a hoof squarely down upon his desk, commanding his full attention. The sharp contact echoed in the room for a second, meriting a jolt from the senator. “We’re going to have that bill on the timetable for another vote in three days, and this time I wholly expect it to pass. We cannot afford to wait any longer to take action on this.” “I don’t need you telling me how serious the situation is!” Pensive snapped, getting up to his own hooves in a second. He stood about a foot and a half shorter than Celestia, yet the fire in his eyes was impressive. “I was the one who proposed this legislation in the first place! Do you think that I don’t want it to pass? When Ink can get a closer rein on her group, and give me some real requests to work with, then I’ll see what I can do, but until then you’d best believe that my wrath will be directed at the ponies responsible for this debacle, and I would expect that yours would be too, your Highness.” Pensive gathered up the parchments he had been working on into a satchel of his own, which he draped quickly across his back. “I hope that you’ll be able to excuse me. I have negotiations of my own to pursue, in order to make sure that I can deliver these votes again when needed.” He stood there for a moment more, until Celestia nodded her approval for him to leave. She wanted some time to think on her own anyway. By and large, the outburst had been pretty much what she had been expecting. Pensive wouldn’t want his bill to die on the schedule after all, never mind the gravity of the proposal. There was simply no way that he had deliberately sabotaged its passage. And in a way he was right, too. She was probably going to be the center of these negotiations as the days ticked down to the next vote. Somehow, this measure was definitely going to get passed. The only question now was who was going to bend first in order to get there.