//------------------------------//
// Pulped Fiction 
// Story: The Hoofmaid's Tail 
// by GaPJaxie 
//------------------------------//



A request by Murcushio:

Intellectually, Twilight understands it will take many years of practical experience ruling the country before she acquires the casual, measured hoof at doing so that looked so effortless when employed by Celestia.

That's not going to stop her from trying to speedrun it, though.



From high atop her throne, Twilight stared down at the griffon who would be king. Behind her crackled a wall of purple fire, the only illumination in her throne room. So backlit, she was little more than a shadow, her eyes pools of the deepest darkness. The flickering light played across the rest of the great hall, over stained glass, over stone pillars, suggestions of irregular geometry. The golden armor of her royal guard occasionally flashed, a hint of reflection, but it was somehow never quite clear how many guards there were. Enough though, surely enough.

“And I shall strike down with great power and terrible anger,” Twilight said, voice cold and imperious, “those who would poison and destroy my ponies, and you will know that I am the Princess of Heaven when I lay my vengeance down upon thee.”

There were three griffons in the diplomatic party, the one who would be king, his bodyguard, his aide. The bodyguard cowered in fright, and the aide seemed to have wet himself. The griffon who was as yet only a warlord held his crown in his talons.

“Listen carefully, King Grover, for these are the most important words any griffon shall ever hear.” Twilight leaned forward, and for a moment the flames illuminated her face, rendering visible the cold fury in her eyes. “If you do not release the ponies you have enslaved, I shall proclaim the coming of a flood like no other -- a flood of fire. Raindrops like burning oil shall fall upon the griffons, and those who seek shelter above shall find all the clouds touch reduced to cinders. For a hundred days and a hundred nights shall your mountains burn, until when the clouds at last part, there will be nothing but bones and burnt brickwork to mark that a civilization ever stood there.”

The aide started to weep. Grover, talons shaking, threw his crown at Twilight’s hooves. “It shall be as you command, Your Highness. I… please. Please.”

“Good,” Twilight said, returning to her straight-backed, shadowed pose.

Then, with the click of an electrical switch, she turned the lights back on. Fluorescent lamps flickered to life on the ceiling, bathing the throne room in a cost-effective pale white illumination. Two pyrotechnic unicorns appeared from the wings to extinguish the wall of fire.

“Before you go,” Twilight said, “please fill out these surveys about your experience with me as a divine ruler. Please be honest! Accurate, constructive feedback is critical to self-improvement.”

An aide handed out clipboards to the three griffon representatives, they each had a little pen attached with a chain. Slowly, Grover skimmed the list.

Question #1: What is your appraisal of Princess Twilight’s willingness to use spells of mass destruction on rival civilizations? (Check one)

[  ] It’s definitely a credible threat.
[  ] It’s probably a credible threat.
[  ] It’s probably not a credible threat.
[  ] I could tell she was bluffing.

Question #2: If you believed Princess Twilight was willing to use spells of mass destruction on your civilization, how likely is this to result in an arms race that will poison both our societies for years to come?

[  ] Very likely.
[  ] Depends how easy it is to develop our own doomsday enchantments.
[  ] Not very likely.
[  ] N/A, I could tell she was bluffing.

Question #3: Do you feel the darkened throne room, wall of fire, and other visual elements enhanced Twilight’s attempts to intimidate you into compliance?

[  ] Absolutely
[  ] Maybe
[  ] No
[  ] It made her less intimidating.

It went on like that. Grover the griffon skimmed the document, flipping through several pages until he got to the end. “Is there a section for general feedback?”

“Oh, no. That’s a separate form.” Twilight said. “Or you could just give me your feedback now. I like to think I cultivate an atmosphere of being approachable and open to suggestions.”

Grover cleared his throat. “I feel the survey at the end somewhat detracted from the overall experience. These things are uh…”

“Oh!” Twilight’s ears perked up. “Don’t worry, I have that covered.” She rummaged around beside the throne until she found the small bag she was looking for.

“Now,” she pulled the plastic cards from within, “upon completion of the survey, you will be eligible for a twenty-bit gift card to the following stores of your choice—”