The office chair. It was a simple thing designed for productivity. From the average pen-pusher to the highest-ranking government ministers, there was an office chair for seemingly every office job.
One could have a set of wheels that swiveled for one's chair or none at all. One's office chair could be comfortable and stylish or plain and simple. With the rapidly changing world demanding an increasingly large variety of everything, things like the office chair molded itself for any task that primarily involved sitting down for a while.
Daybreaker had a surprisingly normal chair in her office considering the status of a mare like her. It had the perfect dimensions that fit the solar monarch's liking and had no trouble being continuously used for hours upon hours every day. Other than a few magical enchantments, it had no gimmick like casters or a reclining backseat, but it did have some luxuries like the rather comfortable velvet cushioning expertly sewn into it. It was sturdy but not rigid, and it was plush but not too soft. Whether Daybreaker was doing boring paperwork or taking a break by listening to some lovely music on her radio, her chair had no problem with accommodating the flaming specimen of a mare that sat upon it.
A familiar scratching sound could be heard in the dimly-lit office room. With a few strokes of a pen, Daybreaker signed a memorandum concerning an incident with the foreign ministry of Equestria's recent correspondence with a Griffonian diplomat. Griffon bastard.
A few moments later, more writing and signing could be heard one after the other. With a lamp as her only source of light that late into the night, each document was set aside as they were processed by Daybreaker one by one.
The local government in Cloudsdale asking for extra funding for their new experimental weather machines? Approved.
A report summarizing a recent meeting by the war cabinet about the finalization of nationwide military production upgrades? Signed and acknowledged.
An execution order for a high-ranking official charged with corruption and high treason for collaborating with changeling operatives? Signed with indifference.
Daybreaker hummed. I've never thought of her as a traitor before.
Signature after signature, Daybreaker's will was imposed. If she wasn't meeting with her generals and ministers, she was busy visiting the front, and if she wasn't busy visiting the front, she was there in her office drafting memos and signing papers. It wasn't sexy work, but it was important work nonetheless, and the one comfort that Daybreaker enjoyed there besides five minute tea breaks and the sweet sound of orchestral music from Canterlot's very own radio station was her office chair.
Gone were the days when sitting on a throne at the end of a long hall while personally attending to the needs and woes of one's subjects was all the rage. In the age of industrialization where running a nation had become far more than just meetings with nobles and royal decrees, the office had become a staple of administration.
And so there was a need for a new piece of furniture to sit on while one broke one's back with the oh-so very exciting intricacies of mind-numbing bureaucracy.
Enter the office chair.
'Twas the modern-day throne and a small symbol of the new age that was unfolding before the eyes of the world, and it was that very same age that Daybreaker was slowly ushering her nation in further and further with each stroke of a pen and each passing of a set of reforms that was paving the path for a future that Equestria was violently barreling towards.