The heavens sparkled in regal authority over the skies of Canterlot. There was nary a cloud in the sky blocking the moonlight as Fancy walked alone through the Royal Quarter of the Upper Districts. The circle of homes stood a step above the rest alongside the walls of the castle. If Fancy hadn’t already inherited his family’s property during his ambassadorship, he’d likely have been bequeathed one of the few miniature castles bordering the real one for his years of service.
His confidence wasn’t riding high after the day he’d endured. Despite his rough start, his stir-craziness had finally won out and spurred him into attending whatever event was going on in high society. The quartz in his pocket was working overtime as he gave it one last polish of magic before assuming his stately confidence. Fancy Pants proudly passed through the open gates and knocked on the door of the host’s home as the proper Kingmaker of Canterlot.
After being greeted by a surprised butler, he ignored the coat check and followed the servant through the opulent entryway. With its marble pillars, alabaster walls, and royal purple carpets, one could easily think they’d entered the real castle by mistake. However, the numerous portraits of the mansion’s owner lining the walls dispelled that notion immediately. The former diplomat nodded a greeting towards the ponies murmuring around him, though they were difficult to recognize in the dim light.
As he drew closer to the foyer, “Sir Fancy Pants” was announced to the shock of many gossiping attendees. It didn’t take long for a particular flash of blonde mane to perk up and push through the crowd of ponies with little regard for them. The golden locks forced open the pastel fur wall, revealing the minister of finance and adopted nephew of Princess Celestia, Prince Blueblood. The somewhat royal stallion smiled with excitement and self-satisfaction at the newest arrival.
“Fancy Pants! What an unexpected surprise to see you here!”
“Good evening, Prince Blueblood. I hope the night finds you well.”
“Indeed! Our Auntie Luna has graced us with yet another wonderful evening for a wonderful party.” Blueblood looked up towards the moon above them through the foyer’s skylight.
Fancy joined the prince's gaze, admiring the majesty of Luna’s sky above them. “The chill in the air is quite bracing, but one cannot argue the clarity it provides for seeing her work.”
“Oh yes. More to the point, it provides the perfect lighting for such a noble event, wouldn’t you say?” the finance minister boasted. The pride he exuded stopped just shy of claiming responsibility for the moonrise itself.
Fancy suppressed a sigh. Prince Blueblood’s parties were largely repeats of the same series of events leading up to them. Some organization had approached him with a random idea, and he was going to make a show of it. The minister’s desire to appear supremely charitable meant nopony else would be allowed to run another event at the same time. It wasn’t for fear of retribution from Blueblood, but rather a desire to spare themselves a princely whining session.
On a brighter note, event exclusivity meant everypony would be here tonight. Most attendees rightly used such functions as an excuse to enjoy the carefully curated selections of foods and spirits anyway. The only true expense besides a generously generous donation was stroking Blueblood’s ego. It was as good an event as any to be seen again and catch up on the latest goings-on in Canterlot.
Before leaving the estate, Fancy had mindlessly signed a check for a large sum of bits to throw into whatever the minister was promoting. Blueblood had a bad habit of neglecting to mention the name of the charity, “not wanting to spoil the surprise” as he always put it. As usual, Fancy had simply filled the amount line with enough zeroes to matter, leaving only the “pay to the order of” line blank to scribble down later.
“I’m sure it will be of great help to the ones in need,” Fancy assured as he pulled out his pocketbook. “So, what great cause are you promoting this time?”
“Oh yes, of course!” Prince Blueblood cleared his throat, signaling Fancy was in for the minister’s prepared pitch. “Too long have the colts and fillies of Equestria lacked adequate access to properly portioned bowls for food and artistic expression. ‘Bowls for Foals’ strives to fill every young artist’s belly while also ensuring their paintings will have the most beautiful staging for their still-life fruit displays.”
“It sounds like this oddly specific charity will certainly change the world in an… equally fitting manner,” Fancy diplomatically assured as he quickly jotted the name down. The involvement of fruit must’ve caught the high-class foodie’s attention. He hoped the ones behind the effort had the wherewithal to produce sturdy dishware rather than distribute aesthetically fragile bowls to children.
After giving the check away, Prince Blueblood joined Fancy’s gait to escort him. The two trotted through the party as the minister jabbered about less than nothing in particular. The Kingmaker was finding Prince’s presence more acutely irritating than usual, especially with the prideful stallion’s less-than-subtle wandering eyes. They caused a small commotion with every pony they passed, and Blueblood was savoring it all.
Meanwhile, Fancy couldn’t help but notice their low whispers and sly smiles were directed at him. It not only confirmed his suspicions regarding the notability of his absences, but also told him something else was potentially problematic.
“So, how are things with Auntie Luna?” Blueblood asked while wiggling his eyebrows.
“I’m sure you’d know better than I, Minister Prince. Outside of sharing a spot of tea, I’m afraid I know little of the goings-on around the castle. Especially considering I no longer work there like you do.”
“Oh, Fancy. You don’t need to play coy with me. All of Canterlot is practically abuzz about you two these days!”
Fancy breathed in calmly, reminding himself to take it in stride. There was no use trying to correct the record. It was better for reality to claim such stories as false overtime and let them fizzle out on their own. Also, it would hopefully add another distraction to the zeitgeist and force the Screech out of their minds faster. He’d simply have to grin and bear the annoyance of perceived power grabs for now.
“I’m aware of the rumors regarding my relationship with our lunar leader. While it is true that I consider her a good friend, I’m simply doing my part to bring her up to speed, as it were, with the modern Equestria,” Fancy assured in no uncertain terms.
“So defensive, Sir Fancy Pants. I was only wondering if I should expect to be calling you ‘Uncle Pants’ sooner or later. It certainly would be strange, but if it makes Auntie Luna happy, I will gladly welcome you into the royal family with an open heart.”
Even if it were true, Blueblood’s endorsement alone would’ve been enough to make him second-guess marrying either princess in this lifetime. These rumors had gotten out of control if Prince Blueblood of all ponies was practically scheduling their wedding. Seeing how poorly Luna responded to the speculation previously, he’d need to make more solo appearances in the future to get the rumors out of the nobles’ systems.
“I’ve spent far more time with Princess Celestia over the years, but nopony has assumed I’d ask for her hoof in holy matrimony. Perhaps you should ask Princess Luna herself about this matter before jumping to such outlandish conclusions.”
“I’ve tried, honestly. But Auntie Luna is just so busy these days!” Blueblood harrumphed in privileged frustration. “Every time I see her, she seems to be running late for a study session, detecting a nightmare, or tending to some such matter that can’t wait. It’s so sad really, being busy with no time to yourself. You’d think she was avoiding me if the notion wasn’t so laughable on its face.”
“I couldn’t imagine anypony trying to get away from you, Prince Blueblood.”
“Exactly, Fancy Pants. You and I? Social elites like us are cut from the same pristine cloth of Canterlot. We were molded by the gentle hooves of fate to rise above; to lead Equestria into a new and prosperous tomorrow!” the stallion proudly announced to everypony around them. Fancy eyed Blueblood curiously and turned his gaze towards a painting of the minister standing next to his ‘Auntie Celestia’ towering over him. “Under my Aunties’ guidance, of course,” Blueblood quickly amended with a cough.
“Of course, Prince Blueblood.” Fancy rolled his eyes. His slight break in decorum was interrupted upon noticing his trusty monocle floating to his left, suspended within a weak, magical field. With a quick flourish of his pocket cloth, he caught the rogue lens in his hoof, polished it in a jiffy, and slapped it back onto his face. He then reached into his coat with his magic to subtly massage the sides of the quartz instead.
After a few soothing passes, Fancy finally saw his escape route under the portrait princess’ merciful wings. “If you will excuse me, I believe that is Photo Finish over there.”
The other stallion turned his head to see the fashion photographer mingling with another guest. Her two assistants stood closely behind her waiting to give chase to the mare at a moment’s notice. “Ah yes it is. Shall we go speak with her?”
Fancy felt his eye twitch. The day must’ve been worse than he thought. Generally, he had far more patience for his fellow nobles than this. He needed a way out or he was going to say something regrettable.
“Oh, but Prince Blueblood, you’ve already spent so much time with me.” Fancy looked around, noticing how many ponies had one ear turned towards their conversation. Their hushed tones gave him an idea. “While I appreciate your attention, you wouldn’t want to continue showing preferential treatment to me.”
“What do you mean?”
“As you said before, we are like-minded individuals. Thus, you know as well as I do that we need to ensure everypony feels welcome at our events; regardless of their status.”
“I suppose, but that seems a little… excessive, don’t you think?”
“You’ve attended many of my events over the years, correct?” Fancy asked, leading Blueblood into nodding along. “Then you’ve noticed me going around to guests and servants to check on them.”
“You mean wasting time on ponies that nopony takes seriously,” the princely pot remarked in complete disregard of his strikingly similar coloration to kettles.
“I know, I know, but even if they aren’t important to us, you of course know the opinions they share of us are, yes? Why do you think I am known as such a gracious host?” Fancy could see the gears starting to turn in the minister’s head, just like he wanted. “After all, a true king is nothing without his subjects,” Fancy finished, cementing his conspiring with a wink.
“Yes!” Prince Blueblood exclaimed in excitement before catching himself. “I mean, of course. I knew that.”
Fancy patted his fellow noble on his withers. “Exactly, my dear Minister Prince. You wouldn’t want to accidentally foment a feeling of neglect in your guests. They might start speaking ill of you.”
The minister gasped. “They wouldn’t!”
“They won’t if you greet each one we passed. I saw you watching them as we walked, taking mental notes all the way. Such an enviable eye for detail.”
“Why thank you. I recall all of their faces, as you know,” the humble prince bragged with supreme confidence.
“Then you should have no trouble meeting with all of them. We passed by most of the party already, so you should get a move on. They might leave early and embittered if you tarry too long with me.”
“Oh heavens, you’re absolutely right! We’ll have to catch up later, Sir Fancy Pants.”
“Of course, Prince Blueblood. Don’t worry about me. I’ve got you covered over here,” Fancy assured with practiced diplomacy.
“Thank you, my good stallion!”
“Think nothing of it.” Fancy graciously bowed as Prince Blueblood leapt into action, the golden retriever chasing the tennis ball Fancy had tossed for him. The minister inserted himself into the first conversation he could interrupt.
With Blueblood unleashed on his guests, Fancy trotted gingerly over towards his target, avoiding conversations with other attendees. Being one of the closer noble influencers to Vinyl before the Screech, she’d be a great gauge for how the news was flowing regarding the DJ. As he approached the mare, one of her trusty assistants noticed and began tapping on her employer's shoulder.
“What? What is it? I’m in the middle of important conversings!” the fashion photographer barked back with her unmistakable accent. One of her assistants pointed a hoof silently at the approaching stallion, bringing a wide smile to Photo’s face. “Herr Fancy Pants? Finally! It has been so long. I was worried you had stepped off the face of Equestria!”
“Umm, Miss Photo Finish?” The model mare Photo had been importantly conversing with raised a hoof, trying to regain the photographer’s attention.
“You’re still here? I am done with you now. You two?” Photo pointed at her chestnut and lime green assistants. “Take her and go. I must speak with the Kingmaker, privately!”
Before Fancy could interject, the two assistants nodded in unison and whisked the poor pony away to parts unknown. Even though this was just how Photo operated, the mare’s jarring speed was difficult to get a feel for. “I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.”
“You have not, except for the flow of my work with your lack of presence at these infuriating parties!”
“I beg your pardon?” Fancy asked, confused by the broken statement. He could tell he was in trouble with the photographer, but he wasn’t sure how.
“I, Photo Finish, require the musics that makes the models dance across the stage. Instead, they bumble down the aisle to irritating thumps of boots and cats!”
“I see. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Yes. Tragic. And that is why it is good you are here now. Better late than never.”
“Late for what exactly?”
“We require… your magicks!” With a dramatic flourish, the mare reached into her purse and pulled out a pair of jet black headphones, similar in shape to the brighter ones Vinyl usually had around her neck. “I have narrowed the musics down to four musicians. You will tell me which one here will bring all the basses.”
Fancy quirked his brow. “I’m still a little lost.”
“Pay closer attention then!” Photo reprimanded before smiling again. “It is simple. You listen to musics, make your choice, and then the fashion lives once more!”
At least the golden opportunity seemed to be providing itself without his goading. “Why not just hire Vinyl?”
“Frau Scratch?” the photographer huffed in mild frustration. “No. Not possible. We must make do with these inferior musics.”
Fancy frowned. It seemed the Vinyl Screech was a story that refused to die off quickly. “If DJ Pon-3 is more than capable of providing higher quality music, then why not just use her talents? You just said it yourself. You don’t need me to tell you she’s the best fit for your shows.”
“And I am telling you it is not possible. Her star no longer shines light upon our stage. You will choose between these four, and only these four!”
Fancy shook his head. “Miss Finish, this isn’t going to work.”
“Nonsense. You just need to warm up. Now listen!”
With little warning, Photo Finish snapped the headphones around Fancy’s head and clicked on the power. At once, electronic pulses and rhythmic progressions blared in his ears, drowning out everything including his own thoughts. It came in waves as it faded in and out. He tried to pull them off with his magic, but he couldn’t concentrate enough to channel a single spark. After a few seconds of deafening audio, Photo took the headphones back and put them on her neck, mercifully releasing him from his sound prison.
“Well?” the mare asked expectantly.
Fancy took a deep breath to get his bearings back as well as let the ringing stop. “Okay. At the risk of rupturing my ear drums, what’s song number two?”
“What are you talking about? Those were all samples of all the musics! What did I say about paying attention?”
“I was, but I am not sure how much I can help. Shouldn’t you choose whichever one that matches your model’s steps?”
“I am showing the most stunning dresses of Equestria, not directing a marching band!” Photo argued.
“But it all sounded the same to me…” Fancy trailed with a nervous smile.
“Stop!” she roared with finality, causing several other party-goers to look her way. “This is getting us nowhere.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Finish. If I were to meet the artists and interview them, perhaps I could give you a better opinion on their work ethic?”
“I do not need to know their work ethics. I need to know the best musics for the spectacle!”
“But that’s purely subjective. There are several ponies that might be of help at the ESPA that I could introduce to you, but my talent doesn’t work like this. I don’t know the first thing about this.”
“Then it is more delays? Fine. Better than nothing,” Photo huffed and pulled out a notepad and pen. “I will send word when I need your Kingmaking, Herr Fancy Pants.” With precision, she flipped the pen into her mouth and began jotting down several notes.
“Be sure it’s not next Thursday evening. I’m already spoken for then.”
“Yes, yes,” she half-heartedly agreed, moving the pen to one side like a cigar in her mouth. “With the rumors of the night, I will make sure I do not try during any evening.” She closed the pen’s cap and stowed it and her notepad. “So much for bringing these headphones to every event. What a waste of time!” She collapsed the device in three furious motions before shoving them into the depths of her purse.
“I’m sorry I can’t be of more help, Miss Finish.”
“Bah! The fault is not yours, but Frau Scratch’s. If only the best DJ wasn’t blacklisted, I wouldn’t be looking through the garbage.”
“What?” Fancy felt his heart drop into his stomach. “Isn’t that going a little far?”
“That is what I said! I cannot believe it myself. Such waste of perfect musics.”
“Wait, you didn’t—Then who did? You’re at the top of the fashion industry!”
“You will need to ask somepony else. I, Photo Finish, had no part in such decisions.”
“B-but Vinyl always gave it her all for you, didn’t she? That has to be worth something.”
“Something, yes, but not worth ending my models’ careers. I will have them walk to polka music before taking such needless risk!”
Fancy’s mind began to race. This wasn’t part of the fate he had envisioned at all. Vinyl Scratch was supposed to work at his mansion for the ESPA while laying low and then…And then what?
“What if I vouch for her?” Fancy offered quickly.
“You would risk your reputation for Frau Scratch? Are you right in the head?”
“There’s nothing at risk! I don’t need to know music to know that DJ Pon-3 is the most popular musician on the Drive.”
“For as long as she is allowed to play there, yes,” the photographer agreed as she pulled out a small camera and photography harness.
How was there pressure mounting on the Drive as well? To his knowledge, DJ Pon-3 was still pulling in the most revenue of any club performer. The bottom line was all that should’ve mattered to these rent-seeking ponies. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. Time was supposed to make everypony forget about the Screech, not allow it to fester! “What is—”
“Enough questions!” she proclaimed loudly, silencing him as she clasped her camera into place. “I have nothing more to say about DJs tonight. We will discuss replacements for her next week. For now, I wish to scout the potential talents. Is Frau de Lis here?”
The mere mention of the mare made Fancy shudder from the encounter this morning. “I-I’m afraid she won’t be attending high society meetings for quite some time.”
“It seems you bring nothing but troubled news today, Herr Fancy Pants. I will hear no more that depresses me tonight. Please give my regards to Princess Luna,” she said with a quick bow.
“Luna? But I'm not—”
“I go!”
With that, the mare sped off into the crowd with her camera at the ready. Fancy knew better than to interrupt her while working, even though she’d most likely get into trouble before the end of the night.
The news she had given him though; he couldn’t believe it. He’d spoken to everypony that had attended the Festival of Flakes—every single one—and just, nothing. Photo Finish was supposed to be one of the easier ones to convince, but even she wouldn’t budge.
“Name one noble who took Vinyl’s side. After everything that happened.”
The pressure at the side of his head was quickly devolving into a headache. He checked to see if he was polishing—no. He checked to see if he was stress casting again. Fortunately, the ring of his monocle still encircled his peripheral vision. However, he felt a mounting urge to take hold of it and clean the lens of all the grime and filth that was building up on it. Why did he feel that way? It was as spotless as it was a few minutes ago.
His quartz from Vinyl couldn’t be pulled out quickly enough. He immediately began tossing it around in his magic, feeling his nerves smooth like the crystal’s edges in his levitation spell. Gazing upon the cloudy rock, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was losing his touch or if this had always been how he managed. He didn’t recall fiddling with his monocle during even the tensest of political negotiations, but unconsciously casting was part of the symptoms Vinyl had mentioned.
Still, he felt that it couldn’t be that black and white. There were plenty of creatures the world over he considered his friends to this day. Diplomats and officials were always willing to work with him to reach an agreement. Everyone was interested in making things work in a mutually beneficial way. His ability to choose the best course of action helped countless times. On the other hoof, talking to the Canterlot nobles left him feeling…
“...kinda empty?”
“Fancy Pants! Thank goodness, you’ve finally come out of hiding!” a boisterous, familiar voice cheered. Fancy stood up and quickly shoved the quartz into his coat pocket.
Turning towards the source, he was greeted by a portly, black stallion with a slick, platinum blonde mane swept down his neck. He approached Fancy Pants with his signature warm, welcoming smile.
“Regal Cents! My good stallion.” Fancy wasn’t sure if he kept his sigh in his head or not, but the stallion was a welcome sight for his tired eyes. “It is so good to see you after so long. How’ve you been?”
“I’m not complaining. I mean, I could complain, but I’m not,” the proper stallion chortled.
“Ah yes, the cutthroat world of finance at its finest. Still, I know you can bounce back on your hooves,” Fancy assured his business friend.
“Indeed,” Regal agreed while looking around the room. “Listen Fancy. I’m in a bit of a bind, but I know I can count on your insight to help me out with a little plan of mine.”
“Of course, Regal. What can I do for you?”
“I have a business proposition that I was hoping to get your opinion on, and perhaps your investment if you’re so inclined. It’s just unfortunate you’ve been so hard to reach these days.”
“Regal. You know you could’ve come by the mansion. I wouldn’t have minded at all.”
“Of course,” the stallion mumbled as he looked around the room again and nodded. He cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “But you know the rumors with Luna… I didn’t want to interrupt anything.”
“Not you too…” Fancy trailed with a sigh. “Alright, tell me about this plan of yours.”
“Gladly!” Regal perked up and cleared his throat, calling attention to himself as if he was pitching the idea to a boardroom rather than just Fancy. “As you know, Regality Investments has been in a bit of a slump while fighting to get in on the Imperial market. While I’m certain I can get a firm hoof in eventually, I was hoping you might be able to help me arrange a meeting with Princess Mi Amore Cadenza to offer her some truly regal ideas.”
Fancy furrowed his brow. “But from what I’ve heard, the Imperial Princess has been working with Horst on that for several weeks before going public with it.”
“That was because the crazy mare had no concept of self-preservation!” Regal fumed quickly before catching himself. “I mean, I wasn’t about to endanger my employees until that menace of the Frozen North, Sombra, was properly dealt with. Everypony in Canterlot had agreed to wait until after the Imperial princess’ coronation, but some less scrupulous investors decided to rush off without a care in the world.”
“From what I recall, Upper Crust went alone to capture the market. She took all the risk herself.” Even if Fancy didn’t like Upper Crust, he wasn’t going to let Regal spread misinformation.
“Fair point,” Regal grumbled through clenched teeth. He adjusted his tie for a moment before proceeding with his pitch. “If you’re going to twist my leg about it, I’ll even ensure you’re first in line for any potential ventures we can peel off of those terrible Horst deals. I’m sure if the princess talks to a real Canterlot business pony, she’ll be more than willing to change her mind.” The stallion extended a hoof and smiled with practiced precision. “What do you say?”
Fancy looked over the hoof and then back at Regal. “I’m not exactly on the best terms with the Imperial princess.”
“Don’t give me that excuse!” the business pony whispered with simmering rage as his eyes darted around at the small crowd of ponies taking notice of them. “You’re practically dating Princess Luna these days. Just have her arrange it for you.”
“Regal, it’s not like that—”
“Fancy! All you have to do is say yes and then give me something to work with. Show your approval somehow and walk away. That’s it!”
“But… do you even hear yourself? Upper Crust—”
“Don’t mention that name to me!” The stallion’s shoulders stiffened as he fought back his anger. “I thought you were somepony I could rely on, but now you’re investing in Horst?”
“Regal, you know I invest with all sorts of ponies. She was the optimal choice, really the only choice, when it came to the Empire. Regardless of any assumed rules she broke, nopony but her was willing to seize upon the opportunity, which left her to set the standard for working with them. You’d be playing catch up in a field that’s stacked completely against you.”
“I know that full well, Fancy! Just say you think it’s a good idea and let’s shake on it!”
Fancy quickly scanned their surroundings, seeing several ponies gathering waiting to hear the outcome, or rather, what the Kingmaker would say. Part of him wanted to acquiesce. Before he met Luna, he probably would’ve. Now though, he knew what his talent truly was, and he knew this wasn’t the right path for his friend to go down. He could feel his cutie mark burning with other ways for Regal Cents to get back on the right hoof. Losing a fiscal war in the Crystal Empire wasn’t one of them.
“Regal, please, listen to me. There are other, far better moves you could be making within the Empire than trying to wrestle control from Horst. Sinking any more capital in an attempt to outmaneuver them might spiral Regality into bankruptcy.”
“That’s only because you caused all of this in the first place!” Regal tossed away any semblance of polite society into the trash as his ire flared to the surface. “My stock value plummeted thanks to you! That mare just needed your blessing with a little bit of backing, and suddenly everypony started clamoring to get in! I’m bleeding critical support, Fancy!”
“I assure you, even without my help, Upper Crust would’ve won this fight. Let me help you in some other way.”
“If you want to help, stop stalling and just give me a hoof already. I need something to work with to take down Upper Crust or I’m finished!”
Fancy shook his head, reaching out to touch the stallion’s shoulder instead. “Even if I were to throw everything I had behind you, you simply don’t have the connections that Horst has made between Canterlot and the Crystal Empire. It’d start a needless capital war in a returning nation that desperately needs stability. I swear that I can help you find something else, just please, let the Empire go.”
Regal slapped the caring hoof away and sneered at Fancy with unbridled vitriol. “How dare you! Upper Crust isn’t even a true noble! And you’re just going to let her take ownership of a once-in-a-generation opportunity! This should be Regality’s capstone achievement that will solidify my name in the history books! You’re a traitor to every true noble in Canterlot!” Regal slammed a hoof down and snorted bitterly. “I will not lose out on what is rightfully mine because of some mud-trudger sired wastrel from a backwater rock farm!”
“Oh dear. And here I thought you Canterlot nobles were supposed to be chivalrous,” a familiar, haughty mare called out from the gallery.
Regal wheeled around and gasped at the one mare that neither of them wanted to see right now. “Upper Crust!”
“Good evening, Regal Cents,” the mare greeted cordially while circling him like a shark waiting to devour its next meal. “I see you’re not living up to that ‘highborn’ name of yours this evening. What are you doing publicly harassing my client?”
“Your client?” Regal spouted indignantly.
“Yes, my client. As you very well know, he keeps a diversified portfolio in both of our ventures. Attacking the esteemed and honorable Sir Fancy Pants in the middle of a charity event? And for what, making sound financial decisions that will benefit our nation's relationship with the Crystal Empire?” Upper Crust tisked and shook her head in dismay. She approached Fancy Pants with a hoof held over her bleeding heart. “For shame, Regal. What would your investors say?”
Regal’s ears flopped as the ponies around them started whispering amongst themselves. Hearing such contemptible words come out of Regal’s mouth was terrible enough, but the visceral hatred he shot towards Fancy hurt far worse. He knew on some level, their relationship was built on polite business exchanges, but he thought they’d shared more than just that.
“This isn’t over yet!” Regal warned as he backed away from the pair.
“You’re right. It’s not,” she stated matter-of-factly before licking her lips. “When that racist slur you just shouted about my earth pony parents lands on the front page of tomorrow’s paper, then it will be over.”
With reality dawning on him, Regal covered his mouth as if trying to force the words back inside. But, it was far too late seeing the size of the noble crowd that had witnessed it. Turning away from them, he pushed his way past ponies to flee as fast as he could from Upper Crust’s flawless smile.
“Looks like you gave me that headline after all,” Upper Crust mocked as she relished in the smoldering ashes of her once-great rival. She grabbed two sparkling wine glasses off a passing servant’s tray and offered one to him. “Cheers, Sir Fancy Pants.”
“Cheers? I was trying to help him!”
“If Cents won’t see sense, then there is nothing you can do for the stubborn fool. You don’t need to take my word for it, but I’d pull out of Regality now while there is something left. I’m sure it will be anything but ‘Regal’ come tomorrow.” Seeing how Fancy was rejecting her offer, the mare clinked the glasses together in her magic and downed one of them herself. “Speaking of which, how is your little volatile asset doing these days?”
Fancy felt his eye twitch again. “Vinyl is doing just fine, no thanks to you I’d wager.”
“Oh, it’s Vinyl now? Well, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You two were sledding together yesterday.”
Fancy balked. “How did—”
“Lofty grew concerned seeing somepony marking out some sort of skiing course in your backyard; using signaling flags of all things. She kept checking on it throughout the day and was absolutely floored to see you two racing each other. I suppose your insights don’t extend to personal connections if you’re letting that delinquent associate with Fleur still. I’m surprised you’re letting her anywhere near the impressionable girl after the way she exploded at me during the Festival of Flakes.”
“They’ve been best friends for years, Upper Crust. It should come as no surprise to anypony that gets to know either of them.”
“Is that so?” she mumbled with palpable disappointment. “And I suppose that explains why you’re bothering with that DJ still?”
“I’ve found Vinyl Scratch to be a remarkable pony,” Fancy replied sternly.
“Pity. I guess it would be rather hypocritical of me to point out your problematic investment right after calling out Centsless on his, so I’ll leave it alone for now.”
“After all, such an interesting scandal might risk stealing attention away from your headline.”
“And here I was beginning to question your perception. It doesn’t matter much in the end either way.” Upper Crust smirked knowing her unspoken superiority in the exchange. “Things were already looking up for me. Regal publicly sinking himself now is just icing on the cake. I do like cake though, especially when it is given enough time to be prepared properly.”
“If it doesn’t matter, then why bother with it at all?”
“What, and miss out on enjoying a well-deserved victory? The Crystal Empire was a zero-sum game, Fancy Pants, and Centsless just lost. Terribly. I caught him showing his true colors to you in front of everypony while getting your endorsement about my setting the standard with the Crystal Empire?” Upper Crust breathed through her nose deeply to savor her presence. “Mother was right, good things do come to those who wait.”
“So that’s all this was? Waiting for your moment to strike so you could grandstand?”
Upper Crust scoffed at the petty accusation. “That’s the problem with you Canterlot types. For living so close to the timeless sun, you have no sense of playing the long game. While I will always welcome a chance to show others what Horst is capable of, this was more stamping out a match that might’ve started a fire in the future. Still, that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the moment, now does it?”
Upper Crust nudged him on the shoulder, still holding the bubbling champagne for him to take to celebrate her victory. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to take a hold of it now even if he wanted, at least not without using his hooves.
“Oh, Don’t look so glum, Sir Fancy Pants. You might’ve finally seen through Regal’s lies, but you still have me,” the banker assured her conflicted client. “Make no mistake, Fancy, beyond that veneer of transparency and niceties, that’s who Regal really is. At least I’m honest with what I’m willing to tell. I hold my fiduciary responsibility to a higher standard. One might even call it a loftier height?”
Fancy’s stomach churned at Upper Crust’s raucous laughter. It felt worse than being betrayed by Regal. He felt used.
Fleur as Lady Faire clicked her tongue in mocking pity. “Monsieur Fancy, do I sense un problème? You need only one.”
She wasn’t right about all of them. He still believed in good industry leaders like Photo Finish despite her unwillingness to risk her business to support Vinyl. There were also plenty of lower noble families of soldiers and states-ponies, but he rarely met with houses like the Sparkles or the Sentrys.
“Come, come, Fancy. You can do it, right?” Lady Fair purred.
There just had to be somepony in his circle. Somepony worth—
“You can’t, can you?”
“I need to go,” Fancy muttered to himself. He shoved a hoof into his coat pocket and clutched onto the stress quartz as his magic swirled around the edges, trying to wipe the crusty sensation off of his withers.
“Of course, Fancy Pants. I completely understand if you want to check on some investments. Still, despite our differences, I do hope you’ll continue to see the value in doing business with me in the future.” The mare tipped the second glass back, savoring the taste of total domination as she slowly drained it dry. With a contented sigh she flashed a perfectly welcoming smile at Fancy. “And why wouldn’t you? After all, you’re the Kingmaker.”
Vinyl paced outside the still-lit kitchen, impatiently waiting for whoever was in there to hurry up. After rushing back to the mansion from her late night set at Cantrips, she was in the mood to warm up with a drink. The only thing standing between her and chasing the waterway's chill away was the mystery pony inside. This late at night, the likely loiter would be Fancy Pants, and she was not ready to face him after boldly diagnosing him this morning. She needed to talk to Fleur first.
But it had been five minutes already. Why was he taking his sweet time in there?
Hot chocolate wasn’t on her mind, especially after drinking two lattes. She wanted something to warm up and calm down with after today’s roller coaster. She felt brave enough to take Fancy up on his offer and try one of those teas he’d had mentioned, but her desire to try peppermint tea was not enough to face him. That being said, she’d already waited this long.
She perked an ear again, trying to hear anything from the kitchen. The suspicious lack of noise had her second guessing her assumptions, but that would mean the vigilant Dapper Dandy had missed shutting off the lights. The butler’s pre-bedtime sweeps of the mansion were frighteningly thorough. He’d even thought to check the record collection after Vinyl had already shut down the studio. She still had his carefully penned reminder note to prove it.
Nopony was perfect though, so maybe he’d just missed one of the most obvious lights in the mansion. Having lost patience waiting, Vinyl tip-hoofed over to the doorway and peeked around the corner. Her instincts had been right about somepony being in there, but it wasn’t Fancy.
Draped over the center island in a stool was Fleur de Lis. Her face was turned away from the door, but Vinyl could tell she was sleeping from the steady rise and fall of her chest. The DJ trotted in carefully as to not disturb her and noticed two cups of cocoa, one sitting cold next to the other overturned and spilled through Fleur’s disheveled mane.
“Fleur?”
The mare snapped up with a start, her mane dripping spilled cocoa as she popped up. “I’m awake! I’m awake. I was just waiting for… Vinyl! You’re home!”
“Hey Fleur.” Vinyl forced a smile, but she knew full well that Fleur wouldn’t be fooled without her protective shades on.
“Hey you! I made us—you hot chocolate!” Fleur corrected with a painted smile of her own after seeing the overturned mug. “Sorry. I completely forgot you were playing Cantrips tonight. This is an apology cocoa! You know, like the cake? It started with a ‘C,’ so I figured it was close enough.”
Vinyl shook her head. “Fleur, I’m the one who should apologize.”
“No! Please! Don’t—you don’t have to!” Fleur bubbled with desperate warmth. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You—I was the one who yelled at you when I shouldn’t have. Actually, tell you what? Why don’t we both just forgive each other and say it’s water under the bridge and chocolate in my hair?” Fleur joked with a wide grin. Vinyl knew her best friend was a talented actress, but the mask she wore was so forced, it hurt to look at.
“I did a long time ago. Actually, I’ve been worried about you all day. You never came back to the lab.”
“Oh! Right, sorry. That dumb crystal harmonics thing for Professor Arpeggio.”
“Don’t worry, I took care of it,” Vinyl assured, trying to match Fleur’s positive energy, but feeling somehow short. “I told the professor you weren’t feeling well, so it’s fine. It was more in my wheelhouse anyway.”
“Oh, Vy,” Fleur giggled. “You didn’t have to lie to him about it.”
“I didn’t.”
Fleur’s smile faltered for a moment as she registered Vinyl’s words. “R-right. You’re right. I guess I am a bit of a mess, huh?” Fleur tried to get control of her hair with her familiar spellwork, but the fake chocolate and stubborn semi-marshmallows weren't having any of it. As she wrung out her tangled locks, she noticed the cup in Vinyl’s hooves. “Oh, here. Let me get that for you.” Fleur shot a light heating spell into the mug. “There. Perfect! All nice and toasty, just like you like it.”
Vinyl looked at the cocoa and then back at Fleur. “I think you might need this more than I do,” she said, offering it to Fleur.
“Don’t be silly, Vy. You’re the one struggling right now. You’re the one going through absolute Tartarus right now.”
“Then why do you look like you lost a fight with Cerberus?” Vinyl asked plainly.
Another fracture appeared on Fleur, but she forced herself back together. “Ha! Good one. You win. I guess I’ll give this stuff a shot.” Fleur took it in her hooves while her magic ran through her hair. “Oh my gosh, this is really sweet. Maybe a little too sweet. Like you, Vy. Thanks!”
“You’re welcome, I guess?”
“It was a compliment! Sorry. Maybe it didn’t come off that way. You said it yourself, I’m a bit of a mess right now. Or maybe I said that. Blah! I can’t remember what I said two seconds ago. That’s why I tried to do this for us!” Fleur grabbed the overturned mug and looked between them. “Fancy… h-he calls it drink diplomacy…”
“Well let me make something for myself real quick while you drink that,” Vinyl offered as she took the other cup from Fleur’s hooves. “I drank two milkshakes worth of lattes today, so I think I might try one of Fancy’s teas.”
Vinyl pulled open the familiar drawer, once again seeing her cocoa and various instant tea bags arranged in perfectly neat rows. It still felt weird to see her generic lumpy bags of discount chocolaty carefully and caringly arranged next to premium teas, but she was starting to get used to it. They were fine. It was okay to be part of the collection. She levitated a peppermint one and tore it open to give it a try.
“Yeah… he lov—really likes tea,” Fleur corrected, biting on her lip.
Vinyl took a deep breath as she started to make her tea at the sink. “It’s okay. You can say it.”
“But you hate that word,” Fleur whispered.
With a heating spell of her own, Vinyl took a seat across from her friend and shrugged. “I’ll try to get over it.”
“Okay then. Then… if you’re in a trying mood, maybe you can try to help me with something.” Fleur leaned closely into Vinyl’s face. “And you gotta be honest with me.”
“Alright,” Vinyl agreed with trepidation. She put the tea on the counter to let it brew and give Fleur her full attention. “I’m ready.”
“Great! I want… I need to know something really important. And you’re not allowed to lie. You know that I’ll know,” Fleur flourished a smile and winked.
“Again. I’ll try.”
“Okay here it goes.” Fleur took a deep breath through her nose and looked directly into Vinyl in the eyes. “Is there something wrong with me?”
Vinyl blinked. “What?”
“Nuh-uh-uh! You gotta tell me the truth,” Fleur taunted, her bubbly cadence bouncing back and forth. “Is there something wrong with me?”
Fleur’s jovial merriment was so divorced from the severity of the question, Vinyl wasn’t sure what to say. So instead, she opted for the truth. “No. I don’t think so.”
“Oh, c’mon, Vinyl.” Fleur dismissed the claim with a hoof, but never broke eye contact for a second. “I’ve been known to act out a lot. There’s gotta be something wrong with me.”
“Like, besides your mane?”
“Obviously besides that. Though I’d argue it’s a perfect mess right now,” Fleur proudly proclaimed as she tussled her tousled locks.
Vinyl chuckled and smiled as best she could, which was easier knowing her answer. “Well, you said it yourself before, ‘why fix perfection?’ I honestly wouldn’t change a thing about you. That’s the truth.”
“Oh… good. That’s great.” Fleur slumped in her seat, looking down at her reflection in the cocoa.
“Fleur, I’m not lying to you. I think you’re fine just the way you are.”
“N-no. I get that, you flatterer you,” Fleur forced herself to look up and flutter her eyelashes. “I just thought, well, hypothetically, if there was something wrong with me, then maybe I could fix it, you know?” Fleur said with a failing smile. “Like maybe it’s something small like I breathe through my nose funny or that I’m annoying him too much or I’m too pushy. If it was bigger, then I could work on it little by little.” Her face kept sagging as tears filled her eyes, and she couldn’t hold her facade any longer. “And then… then maybe once I fixed it… or—or Fancy saw I was trying really hard to, he’d tell me he loves me, and—and he wants me to be his sister.”
Vinyl felt an old, sharp pain hit her own heart as her friend broke before her eyes. She kicked over her seat in her rush to catch her falling friend who lacked the strength to stand on her own anymore. Barely catching the larger mare on her shoulder, Vinyl clung on tightly, letting Fleur sob in her embrace. Every old instinct against opening up was screaming at her, but Vinyl refused to let them tell her what she could and couldn’t do.
She wasn’t messing up. Vinyl Scratch wasn’t going to mess up this time. It was her turn to be the rock.
“Fleur? You know Fancy lo—”
Mommy loves you.
Vinyl gripped Fleur tighter, biting her tongue to try to force the intrusive thoughts away. She couldn’t afford to be weak. “—he cares about you.”
“No he doesn’t! He hates me! He hates me and I—I can’t do anything about it!”
“Fleur. Look at me.” Vinyl shook the larger unicorn to attention and forced her tear-filled eyes to focus. “I’m sure of it. You’re one of the most important ponies in the world to him. Anypony who knows you two—really knows you two—can see that. He’s so lucky to have a sister that cares about him like you do.”
The DJ stared unblinking, bearing down on her friend’s gaze as much as possible. She might not be able to lie to save her life, but her eyes could tell the truth for damn sure.
“Really? You really mean that?” Fleur asked after a few moments of searching for a lie that wasn’t there.
“Of course he does. In fact, I hate—” Vinyl stopped as Fleur’s eyes shrank in abject terror.
“No!” Fleur screamed in agony and pulled Vinyl into her chest to stop her from talking. “Don’t say it, please! I-I don’t want to choose between you two! I can’t! I want you both! Please, don’t make me choose!”
“I won’t!” Vinyl’s muffled shout caused Fleur to loosen her vice grip and give her some fresh air. “I’m not, Fleur. I don’t hate him, but I don’t like how he’s making you feel,” Vinyl assured her friend, letting her take in her eyes again. “I won’t make you choose, Fleur. I promise.”
“You promise?”
Vinyl paused as she thought about what that meant. Fleur was claiming Fancy and Vinyl were mutually exclusive. To say otherwise would mean Vinyl thought she could get along with him. To get along with a noble, or rather the noble of nobles, and befriend the Kingmaker of Canterlot. Could she really promise Fleur that?
“Perhaps this ‘Friend Ship’ of Fleur’s can help the both of them too. You might be the one that needs to hold it all together,” Octavia suggested.
It wasn’t a question of could; she knew she would. Vinyl might’ve been angry at him for making Fleur feel this way, but she had hurt Fleur too. If Vinyl deserved a second chance, so did Fancy. Despite that nagging fear, part of her was actually looking forward to it. She’d never met anypony quite like him, and if she could get past her hangups, he might be a welcome addition to the Friend Ship.
Still, Vinyl needed a way to assure Fleur beyond a shadow of a doubt that she’d follow through with getting him aboard the Friend Ship. There was one sure-fire way of making certain, though it would be at the cost of her dignity. It’d be the best of the best, better than the rest, with no contest for the sake of her best friend.
“Cross my heart, hope to fly,” Vinyl motioned with her hoof, drawing an X over her heart. Then, she lifted a hoof up to her face. “Stick a cupcake in my eye.”
Fleur’s momentary confusion yielded to a snort, a cough, and finally a blubbery chuckle. “Wha—what the hay was that?”
“A Pinkie Promise,” Vinyl answered with regret. “You can’t break one of those. Trust me, I tried.”
“A Pinkie Promise?” The fractured mare smiled, and started giggling at the overly cutesy name and accompanying gestures. “And here I thought our SchlurrVivyl thing was cheesing it up. That was absolutely adorable!”
“It’s a thing I had to do in order to finalize a performance contract in Ponyville. Found out the client took it way more seriously than the piece of paper I signed.” Vinyl rolled her eyes at the memory, or lack thereof, after waking up in Ponyville with no clue how she had gotten there. That was the first and last time she tried to bail on Pinkie.
“Oh, I don’t know if it’s because it’s cornier than Corn Acopia or it’s you saying it, but I can’t…” The thought of such a childish rhyme being legally binding broke through Fleur’s tears, causing her to laugh freely. “I just can’t!” Fleur doubled over in guffaws, nearly falling the other way out of the stool.
“Yeah, Pinkie has that effect on ponies, for better or worse.”
“Pinkie? Is she the one with the apology cakes and party cannons?” Fleur asked. Vinyl sighed and nodded. “The more you mention her, the more she sounds like somepony I’d really get along with.”
“A little too well if you ask me.” After hearing what had happened at the Grand Galloping Gala from Tavi, Vinyl was very glad to have invited Fleur to Cantrips with her that night.
“Is… is this Pinkie pony a friend of yours?” Fleur asked with hope in getting a yes.
“It’s more like Pinkie Pie’s friends with everypony, whether you want to or not.”
“Well, do you want her to be your friend?”
Vinyl winced at the thought. “Let’s try getting this Friend Ship thing afloat in Canterlot before we go sailing off to parts unknown, okay?”
“Sounds good to me,” Fleur wiped her eyes and yawned. “Can we get some shuteye first though? I’m exhausted after today.”
“Of course. You might want to get cleaned up first. Want me to wash your mane?”
Fleur gasped dramatically. “The DJ Pon-3 offering to take a bath with moi? Oh! Be still my beating heart!”
“Mane, Fleur. Mane. I’m trying to be a good friend here, okay? I can do without the innuendos.”
“Sorry. Couldn’t help it.” Fleur giggled. She rubbed her hooves together seeing if she would be able to squeeze anymore into the deal. “Could… could I maybe sleep with you tonight, too?”
“A sleepover? Sure, but let’s not give anypony the wrong idea. I’ve got some light pajamas I can wear.”
“Don’t worry. I can behave when I need to. And…” Fleur trailed as the brief laughter interlude weakened. What little the emotional bandage did wasn’t enough to cover the gaping hole in her heart, and the desperation broke through again. “And I really, really need to not be alone right now. Please.”
“Of course, Fleur. What are sisters for?”
Fleur’s breath hitched as her eyes glistened. A smile spread across her face, bursting through the torrent of emotions swirling inside her. With only one outlet, Fleur pulled Vinyl into another long, tearful hug.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Vinyl,” Fleur whispered.
“That goes double for me, Fleur. Now, come on. Let’s get cleaned up. You smell like a cheap chocolate bar.”
“Well at least that’s pleasant. You still smell like Cantrips.”
“Fine,” Vinyl relented, reading between Fleur’s lines. “I guess that stupid guest bath is big enough for the both of us.”
“Yay! Spa date!”
Despite her excitement, Vinyl had to pull Fleur up to her unsteady hooves. As they stood up together, the emotionally exhausted Fleur leaned into the smaller mare for support. Vinyl couldn’t tell if Fleur’s tears were of sadness or joy, but it didn’t matter as long as she was there to keep her going. The pair started the long walk towards the guest room, with Vinyl bearing most of their weight on her withers. They’d clean up, get some sleep, and do whatever else would help Fleur when she needed her family the most.
No matter what, Vinyl was going to do whatever it took to be there for Fleur, be it a best friend or a sister in spirit. Fleur de Lis was the only family Vinyl had left, and she wasn’t going to let it go.
Not again.