It’s just pageantry, I reminded myself. Rehearsal for pageantry. Nevertheless, as I stared into the mirror and examined a colt in distinguished naval fineries, an immense feeling of pride began to balloon in my chest. A tear threatened escape.
I turned my attention to a nearby window and studied the bustling square below. Ponyville was always teeming with activity around this time of year, just one week until the Hearth’s Warming Celebration. Just one week and they would be enjoying my handiwork. I was not nervous. I had become quite used to the routine. I had become quite talented at my duty.
I descended into the town hall’s auditorium. It was nearly as busy as the streets, full of ponies toiling to realise my vision. The usual banners had been replaced for the week with some romantic interpretation of the ancient pony tribes; the proud profile of a unicorn surrounded by flawless jewels, the wings of a pegasus against a starry night, and a quartet of sequential art representing the earth ponies’ harvest. The rest of the wall was draped in rich, red velvet and accented by blue ribbons. Quite a bright blue, I noted.
I took my place in a small booth full of likewise retired ponies of honour. I knew none of them very well, only for their names. Rapier Riposte was an old captain of the Royal Guard and an earth pony. He made for terrible conversation, but was an excellent disciplinarian if the stories are to be believed. Directly in front of me was a mare by the name of Mistral Wind, a representative of Cloudsdale’s aerial forces.
As the curtains drew over the auditorium’s large overhead windows, a quick hush overcame the building. Soon, a single beam illuminated the stage and from it stepped a pony long and grey of mane. He approached the podium and drew from his waistcoat’s pocket a deck of cards. He began studying them as he recited- in quite a stressed voice:
“Hearth’s Warming Eve… Let’s see,” he fumbled with the cards. A few fell to the podium and he retrieved one at random to read aloud. “When the three pony tribes… no, that’s not right. I’ve gone too far.”
The Mayor’s monotony became white noise as a rustling sound crept from behind me. A sound if- were I not so bored- may have been imperceptible. A hoof perched itself on my shoulder and a soft voice soon followed.
“Enjoying the rehearsal, Admiral Sea Fair?”
I stirred from a slouch I hadn’t entirely realised I entered. I looked behind me and saw the all-too-familiar face of Angel Dove.
“Quite,” I replied sternly. “This booth isn’t meant for civilians, filly.” She forced an indolent, hummed laugh.
“You’re a civilian, Admiral.”
I held my tongue and returned to the drone of the mayor’s speech, but Angel Dove wasn’t satisfied. I now felt a fluttering at my cheek, the fluttering of paper.
“A letter came in the fire,” she said through her teeth. Between them was a tan scroll. I took it in the grasp of my magic and held it before me. Sure enough, I was the addressee.
“It’s important to remember the people closest to us, and thank them for all they’ve done. To know that they’re loved and er… Was that before or after the uh…”
“Your fire?” I inquired.
“Heavens no!” Angel Dove rested into an elegant, relaxed perch. Her delicate pink mane bobbed as she contacted the floor. “The mayor’s. It seems whoever is writing knows you haven’t been spending very much time at home.”
Examining the seal, it bore the emblem of the Princess. Curious beyond belief, I hesitantly tore the seal apart and unravelled the script. The penmanship was beautiful.
Dear Admiral Sea Fair,
I hope this season is treating you well. I am writing to congratulate you on your sixth year in a row managing the decoration of town hall for the Hearth’s Warming celebration. I hope this year will be as successful as all the last.
I know my role in the festivities tends to be one of distant and fond regard, but I feel that same approach would hardly be appropriate with all the work and care you all put in every year. So I have parted with one of my most loyal and gifted students in order to keep a close eye on things in my stead. Her name is Aurora Star, and I have a feeling you both will be close friends.
I realise that given your naval career, you have taken to guiding your fellow organisers yourself. I assure you, my protégé will not order or command and she will not tell you how to do your job. Her role is simply that of a director, to bind you all together in the true spirit of Hearth’s Warming Day; camaraderie.
One more thing- and I ask this of you with all the gratitude in Equestria and beyond- Aurora has been granted accommodations in town hall which for the time being have been made unavailable. I understand you have been granted your own very large home in Ponyville with more than enough room to house a young filly. I assure you, she needs little room to herself. But living in Canterlot for so long has left her with certain expectations. I understand if I am asking for too much, please write back as soon as possible if this cannot be done and I will make other plans for her. She leaves in two weeks.
Oh, and please do make her feel welcome. She will need time to adjust to life in Ponyville and get to know her fellow event organisers.
Yours dutifully and eternally,
Her Majesty Princess Celestia.
“Two weeks?” I asked, hovering the letter over to Angel Dove. “In two weeks Hearth’s Warming Day will have come and gone!”
“Yes…” said Angel sheepishly. “You would be right, only that letter arrived about… two weeks ago exactly.”
I snapped to face Angel Dove. I couldn’t see my face of course, but I had a strong feeling it was one that could kill. She was suddenly preening her wings as if she had been occupied the whole time.
“I’m not the paper colt!” she said shrilly. “It’s not my fault it got lost in the Mayor’s office.”
“I can’t house this filly! What do you think I am?” I was trying my best to muster a hushed yell without disturbing the rehearsal.
“You can’t not,” Angel riposted. “These are direct orders from the Princess herself! You had two weeks to refuse.” She was waving the letter around in her mouth.
I sighed and wrested the paper from her teeth. My tired gaze returned to the mayor, who was becoming exhausted with his prepared speech.
“In short, er… It is harmony that makes us stronger. And because of that, we… celebrate harmony… today.”