//------------------------------//
// Gambit 
// Story: Princess and Pariah 
// by Taialin 
//------------------------------//

I don't like the idea of having Tempest move so soon after a scare like that. I'd prefer she rest for the rest of the day and let some of my doctors take a look at her. But, as is, I obviously don't have that option, and I like the idea of Tempest staying with Autumn Blaze even less, for Autumn's safety just as much as Tempest's.

So we're all going to Rain Shine's palace. And it is certainly a palace since lesser descriptors don't do the architecture justice. This home, while still built into the surrounding environment, is built into the side of a terraformed mountain rather than a tree. Though calling it a cave is a vast disservice too. Dragon caves are simple, composed of not much more than a hollow in rock, maybe several hollows if the dragon needs a "room" or two. This structure has painted and contoured supporting columns, a tiled entranceway with meticulously detailed kirin statues flanking it, and even tall windows. I admittedly don't know a lot about architecture, but I know enough about geology that fixing a glass window into something as seismically active as a rock formation overtop a caldera is difficult to say the least.

Someone must have taken many, many years of their life to make this. Multiple someones. It reminds me of Canterlot's own genesis: it was a monumental, multi-generational feat of engineering. There were those who worked on its construction who weren't born early enough to see its beginning or live long enough to see its end. While this doesn't quite have the same scale, it's not far off; it's a level of planning and engineering that, by its scale alone, defies any single pony's understanding.

To borrow a phrase from Applejack's vernacular, "Hoo-whee."

"Right? Rain Shine really has it made in a place like this," Autumn says. "And it's even bigger on the inside than it appears from out here. It's really not often she hosts public events in the palace, but there's enough room to host the entire village, and then some!"

It brings to mind how Rain Shine was afforded this kind of privilege. Given her home, her leadership, and possibly her extended lifespan, it's evident she's different from the other kirin, kind of like how alicorns are different from ponies. She may very well not be a kirin in that sense. It's yet another branch of kirin magic I'd love to understand. Whether I have time to study it right now, though . . .

"And how do we get an audience with Her Majesty?" Tempest asks.

I look at Tempest, surprised, mouth half-open. Tempest is so strong-willed and self-assured most of the time that I just made the assumption she didn't pay much heed to royalty. She certainly didn't while she was playing the invader role. And while she does call me "Princess," this is a pony—kirin—whatever—whom Tempest has never met before. And yet she's assuming a style for her, the most respectful one there is.

"Hey Maj—you mean Rain Shine?" Autumn rubs her muzzle. "Fair enough, I guess. We never called her 'Her Majesty,' though. We never called her anything." Then she gestures at her throat, miming something coming up from it. "Obviously.

"And the village isn't that big, really. It's not like she has kirin lined up to see her at all hours of the day like actual royalty." Then she looks at me and cocks her head. "Or you, I guess."

I wrinkle my muzzle. All too true. Ponies want my time even when I'm not around. I've been getting dragonfire letters even here from ponies who want my attention, but governing isn't exactly top of mind right now.

"So if you want to get an audience with her," Autumn says, shrugging, "you knock." And she proceeds to do just that.

. . .

We wait for an uncomfortably long time. I almost volunteer to knock again, wondering if Rain Shine just didn't hear it, but Autumn doesn't seem in any hurry, so I keep my hooves to myself.

. . .

The wind whistles through the tree canopy. Birds fly overhead, chirping periodically. I shuffle my hooves.

"Why is Her Majesty your leader?" Tempest asks, breaking the silence.

Autumn Blaze looks over. "Why?" She sticks her tongue out of her mouth. "Hm. To be honest, I never asked myself that before. She has been leader for as long as I can remember, so . . ." She shrugs. "She hasn't steered us wrong yet!"

Steered you wrong? She—

"But she forced you all into the Stream of Silence," Tempest rebukes, finishing my own thought. Not that I necessarily would have given it voice.

"Well . . ."  Autumn twirls her hoof in a circle. "'Forced' is a pretty mean word, and 'wrong' is kind of strong too. The truth is—"

Autumn Blaze stops talking when the door creaks open, and through the portal emerges a kirin the height of Celestia who also carries herself with her poise and formality. That inherent superiority and air of easy authority intimidates me even now.

Silently, Autumn Blaze prostrates herself before her kirin leader. Taking her lead, Tempest does too. 

As for me . . . as the leader of Equestria, I probably shouldn't put myself underneath the hooves of another nation—I am Equestria now, and I can't put it under anyone's hoof. After all, I command the sun and moon, and they rise above all. At the same time, I've never met Rain Shine before, and I don't want my first impression to be disrespectful. I don't know the niceties of kirin society, and I don't know what degree of offense not bowing would cause. Better to not rock the boat.

I lower my head but don't lower myself entirely to the ground.

After a few seconds, Rain Shine taps the ground at our feet with a cloven hoof and turns it upward. We all rise.

Rain Shine looks at us imperiously, appearing staid, almost unimpressed. She gives us all a cursory glance but skips over Autumn Blaze and settles on me first. I put on a small smile, trying to appear friendly and lighten the mood. It doesn't work; Rain Shine's expression remains unchanged. It's not a frown, but it's not a smile—it's just . . . studying me. I feel like a book being pored over its every letter.

Some foreign nationals do something like this with me in my diplomacy meetings; they try to get me to make concessions or otherwise bend to their desires through intimidation. But they can't do this half as well as Rain Shine can, partially because I don't think she's even trying to do it. And she's not even a proper politician.

Then she turns her attention to Tempest. Tempest doesn't make eye contact, but as a Commander does, she doesn't yield, either. She just maintains a thousand-yard stare, looking at something just behind Rain Shine. It is exactly the same stare the Royal Guards do with me, and it's equally as unreadable. Rain Shine lingers on her for far longer than she did me, looking her up and down, studying whatever she's finding interesting, but if Tempest is bothered by the attention, she doesn’t show it.

How long it's been since Rain Shine opened the door, I don't know. It could have been a minute or an hour. But when Rain Shine is satisfied with whatever it was she was doing, the tiniest of smiles comes onto her face, and the air gets a little lighter. "Autumn Blaze," she says in a soft, lightly accented voice that reminds me—too much—of Celestia's. It's almost a greeting. "And treasured guests. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?"

I start, realizing it's my turn to speak. "O-oh! Princess Twilight Sparkle of Equestria. Very nice to meet you and your kin," I say, an expression on my face that I hope looks like a smile.

"Tempest Shadow at your service," she says in her usual matter-of-fact voice.

Rain Shine nods in return. "Yu Taiyang, or Rain Shine if you would prefer." She steps back and makes a "come in" gesture with her head. "Please avail yourself of my hospitality," she says in a smooth voice.

I nod and enter the vestibule. It is both exactly what I was anticipating and nothing like what I was expecting.

Ponies have a clear line between what's "indoors" and what's "outdoors." This tows the line, and gorgeously. There's a vast courtyard spreading in every direction and flowers of every size and color adorning the walks and walls. In the middle is a grand tree surrounded by a pond, large enough that it could have housed the former Golden Oaks Library. The ceiling, if you could call it that, only covers the perimeter of the courtyard; it's open in the center, letting sunbeams in and bringing the courtyard to life. The only artificial source of illumination is a few paper lanterns hung around the perimeter of the courtyard.

Birds fly in through the open windows and skylight. Most land on the vegetation, but some particularly fearless birds land straight on the ground, hopping about to find seeds or fruits to eat. One lands right in front of us and chirps a few times, clearly not concerned a giant pony or kirin might step on them by accident. I don't know how to respond.

It's evident that Fluttershy never managed to visit Rain Shine's home properly while she was visiting; if she did, she'd probably have never come home.

"I told you, right? Rain Shine has got it made!" Autumn Blaze says from behind me. She trots ahead and pirouettes merrily in front of the tree.

"Remember, Autumn: I ask for those who enter my home to keep the peace," Rain Shine says. Her words are chastising, but her tone is even. I'm still trying to make sense of what she said when she lights her horn in a gentle white glow and closes the door behind us.

Autumn stops spinning and carefully tiphoofs back and settles beside me. She flicks an ear.

Confused and a little bit frustrated, I lean over to Autumn Blaze. "What does she mean?" I whisper.

Autumn whispers back, "Just keep your voice down."

"I welcome all of your beautiful voices," Rain Shine explains, clearly having heard us, voice as quiet as ours but carrying the gravitas that makes it heard, "but I do not welcome anger, negativity, or the fire that follows. I would also humbly ask our esteemed visitors if they would be kind enough to extend the same courtesy to me, if only so as to not disturb the starlings roosting in their nests."

For a kirin who doesn't sound like she speaks Ponish regularly, Rain Shine weaves her words better than most ponies do. It's probably not her first language, but she doesn't make the many obvious grammatical errors yaks do. She doesn't make any. In fact, from what I've heard, she was well spoken from her very first sentence. She can't be unfamiliar with using her voice—after all, she's clearly not unfamiliar with spoken Ponish. How long did she enforce the Vow of Silence, anyways?

It might pay to ask some leading questions.

"Of course," I say, thinking myself Fluttershy and adopting her mannerisms. They really would get along well, wouldn't they? "I hope the kirin are happier now with their voices back. And that you aren't too bothered by the nirik."

Rain Shine looks up and also flicks an ear. If pony mannerisms extend to those of kirin, that would mean "annoyed." But then she looks back down, nothing of annoyance or any emotion at all appearing on her face. Maybe she and Tempest would get along too. "Please forgive my surprise. I fear you have me at a disadvantage. I was not aware you knew of the Vow and the events that followed."

"Right, I'm friends with Applejack and Fluttershy. They're the ponies who visited you a dozen or so moons ago and helped Autumn Blaze find the cure for the Vow of Silence."

Rain Shine once again smiles softly. "I remember those two very well. Please relay my thanks to them when next you see them. It has been too long since I have heard the wonderful sounds of my village." She raises a hoof, and the bird formerly strutting in front of us flutters to land on it, twittering happily.

So . . . is Rain Shine happy about having her village's voice back or not? Something's not adding up. Rain Shine, although she first enforced the Vow, learned her lesson and is changing her stance on voices and expressing one's thoughts. Ostensibly. But if not the silence, why does she insist on quiet and restraint akin to silence? Even Autumn Blaze, boisterous as she is, becomes a different pony in front of her, and it's not like I would say she was angry or at risk of becoming a nirik.

"I'll be sure to do that," I respond, putting on a smile in return. "They were happy to hear the kirin's voices return. Out of curiosity, how long did the Vow of Silence last?"

It feels like someone drew the fabric of tension in the room tight the moment I asked that question. Rain Shine half-lids her eyes, once again studying me closely. She glances at Autumn Blaze. Autumn grimaces and rubs at where her mane wraps around her neck. Even Tempest narrows her eyes, but she's still looking at Rain Shine. She hasn't taken her eyes off her since we started talking.

"It's kind of a sensitive subject," Autumn says out the side of her mouth. "Sorry, I probably should have warned you about that."

"Clearly," Tempest says, the first words she's said in a while. They're not as congenial as I would have expected, either. "But Her Highness would still like to know the answer."

I look at Tempest again. I'm not sure if I want to protest the request, scold her for making it, or ask why she's calling me "Your Highness" again. Before I can act on any of those, Rain Shine answers.

"It is a fair subject," she says evenly. She's like Celestia in how her voice never wavers from that tone, so you frustratingly never know exactly what she's thinking. "I enforced the Vow to protect my village. You have not seen the destruction even a single nirik can wreak upon our lands."

Rain Shine turns around and walks to the tree in the center of her courtyard. She runs a hoof under its eaves. "Arresting a nirik's fire once it is lit is insufficient to protect a village. The transformation is immediate and terrible. The anger in fire begets its own anger even if its parent is no longer fueling it. And fire moves faster than peace. The Vernal Equinox Tragedy: I am sure you know the story, Autumn Blaze." She turns to look at her evenly.

Autumn Blaze rubs a hoof against another, looking like a child who'd been caught by her mother stealing cookies. "It was before my time, but yeah. A kirin got mad at his neighbor for leaving nut shells and banana leaves in his front yard, so the story goes. He went to his neighbor to complain, and in the argument, he transformed, and the tree the neighbor lived in caught on fire.

"At that moment, the wind picked up, and it blew a whole bunch of nuts into the yard. Some squirrels came by to harvest the nuts but left the shells behind. The kirin who started the argument saw this and apologized, but it wasn't enough. The argument had already started a commotion. Other kirin heard the noise and came closer. They took sides in the argument. It probably wasn't even about littering or neighbors anymore. They were just arguing with each other about their own quarrels. No one was watching that the first fire that had started was still spreading. And then, well . . ."

"The neighbor who had her home destroyed, she was caught under the wreckage as it collapsed," Rain Shine says, finishing the story. "And she perished. This yinxing, this ginkgo is grown from one of the seeds it left behind. A physical token of her legacy among the kirin." Rain Shine lifts her hoof, and the bird on it flies to perch on one of the eaves of the central ginkgo tree. "The circumstances that led to Overcast Light's death must never be allowed to happen again."

I heard in vague terms the tragedy that caused the kirin to fall into the Vow of Silence, but maybe Fluttershy and Applejack glossed over this detail. I wouldn't blame them. Just as I'm about to apologize for causing offense, Tempest runs on ahead of me once again.

"The Princess' friends taught you that suppressing all emotion, not just anger, is no way to live. Do you intend to renege on the freedom they gave your village?"

"Tempest!" I cry, aghast. Relations with foreign leaders really ought to be handled with more tact than this—the yaks and dragons wouldn't respond well to this kind of disrespect, for example, and I've learned to be especially careful around them. I turn back to Rain Shine. She remains standing seemingly unaffected, but I see a flicker of blue-purple fire escape her horn, and a lock of her mane changes color. She seems well in control, but that's obviously not a good sign. I step back just a little. "I-I'm sorry, I don't know what's gotten into her. You don't need to answer that, that's—"

"I did hear the lesson our dear pony friends imparted to us," Rain Shine continues, tone still unchanged from how it was before. Her words suggest they might be sarcastic, but once again, her tone betrays nothing. She extinguishes the ember atop her horn, but her mane remains a haunting wavering two-tone of aquamarine and midnight. "And I do appreciate that emotions of all kinds deserve to be shared and exchanged. But for you ponyfolk, the only consequence for unrestrained anger is an injured relationship. For us kirin, anger is a weapon of destruction, one poorly restrained by its wielder. And that makes emotion itself a weapon. One cannot directly compare emotions between us, and thus, one cannot compare the necessary controls upon those emotions, either."Rain Shine said only one sentence in the show, and in some ways, it's not entirely consistent with the narrative in this story. I frame this story not as a contradiction to canon but an elaboration. The writers told a good story, but there's only so much you can say in 22 minutes.

Necessary controls on emotions? I don't like the sound of that. Celestia told me that it's all too easy to not just do the good things that encourage the populace to support you, but to mold the populace directly and induce their support. You should only ever stay on one side of that line. It's the line between being a monarch and a despot.

"I wish for peace because it is the only defense against the weapon of anger. The Stream of Silence is a useful tool for that peace. We have been at peace for half a generation. I would hope, even as kirin are free to express themselves, that we remain so."

Then that means there's an entire generation of kirin children who were never taught how important their own voices were. It brings perspective to the kirin I met when I first arrived. Do they just prefer not to speak? Or were they never taught how to speak?

"You realize that this is akin to—"

I fix Tempest with a glare, trying to stop her from digging a deeper hole for herself. She gets the hint, closes her mouth, and steps back. I offer an apologetic smile to Rain Shine before taking Tempest aside to chat with her quietly.

"Listen," I whisper to Tempest, "I don't like what Rain Shine is doing either, but this isn't the way to change anyone's opinion. I know what you're trying to do, but getting into an argument with a monarch on the first day is probably not a good idea, least of all when the argument itself is what the kirin want to avoid.

"And," I continue, "you know why we came to Rain Shine in the first place, right? I don't think we made the best first impression on her, and I don't think we're in a position to ask for anything now."

"Ask me what?"

Shoot. Of course Rain Shine is good at overhearing conversations. I look back, and Rain Shine is thankfully entirely back to her kirin form. When you don't talk much, you get very good at listening, I suppose. She's better than Fluttershy. Out of options, I putter. "A-a thousand pardons, Rain Shine. We were doing some research, and-and I really like doing research. Forget I said that. I, um, what we came to you for was—"

"We would ask for your help translating an old text we found," Tempest cuts in clearly, calmly. She produces the book we brought. I let out a breath. She might be blunt, but she's blunt in all the good ways, too. Then again, considering the first impressions we gave her, I doubt she'd be willing to help us.

Silently, Rain Shine lights her horn and takes the book from Tempest's hoof. She opens the book and scans the runes, up and down. Under her breath, she's murmuring some sounds I can't make sense of. Then she looks up, brows once again furrowed, this time in suspicion. Her mane flickers once again. "The Stream of Silence?" she asks.

I find my voice. "It's-it's not what you think! We're interested in learning more about its magic because we think it might be able to help . . . somepony in need."

She stares at me for a long time, and I struggle to maintain her gaze. Then she nods slightly and returns her eyes to the book. She speaks again. "Forgiveness, too, is a tool in the war for peace. For when disagreements arise, holding grudges ensures the anger returns, stronger the second time. It festers underneath the surface and returns when the time is wrong. Forgiveness robs anger of its fire. The kirin of my village, and its visitors, must know how to forgive others, no matter the circumstance, and no matter the slight."

It takes a moment for me to understand Rain Shine's insinuations, but I'm familiar with this particular trick. Forgiveness is a tool in politics too, one that can be given and withheld—but always for a price. Rain Shine is pre-emptively forgiving us now for Tempest's sharp words, but in exchange, she's challenging us not to question the Stream or the Vow or her personal philosophy on either. If we want to get what we need, that is. She wants us to behave. She wants us to stay quiet.

Maybe Rain Shine is a shrewd politician after all.

"I would ask for you to return to me in a few days," Rain Shine continues. "I can help you translate, but it has been many years since I have seen these particular characters. It will take me some time before I can return to you what you would like." Then she returns her eyes to us and smiles. It might be false, but I can't pierce the façade. "While I work, please feel free to stay in my home and explore our beautiful village."

"I . . ." But there's nothing for me to say. We came here to get help from a kirin, any kirin, who could read this ancient book, and I'm not going to leave before I know how the Stream of Silence can help. Rain Shine's terms are more than reasonable, both her spoken and silent ones. 

If this is the worst I need to do to get Tempest a cure, I'll do it a thousand times over.

I glance around. Tempest isn't willing to speak over me. And I don't think Autumn Blaze is willing to speak at all.

"We'd be honored."