Tealove’s Tea Appreciation Tea Party
Tealove’s Tea Room is an unassuming building on a quiet side street in Canterlot. Well, unassuming by pony standards; it’s a sturdy brick building with an English drawing room vibe inside.
Besides her shingle, there’s a sign out front that says “Tealove’s Tea Appreciation Tea Party.” That’s what you’re here for. Although, truth be told, you’re not actually here for the tea. Rumor has it that Tealove is a secret agent, passing on coded messages at her tea parties.
She’s an attractive pony and a gracious host. While she does have tables, today they’ve been pushed aside and the chairs arranged in a circle. The center is the focus—a simple kitchen cart, covered with a homely checkered tablecloth, the space on the top occupied with tea fixin’s: sugar, milk, cream, and so on. There’s an empty spot in the center, but soon there will be a teapot there.
It’s your first tea tasting . . . tea appreciation tea party. But you know the format. She’ll bring out a pot of unusual tea to share around, everybody will sample it, discuss it. Sort of like a wine tasting, really.
Such an event tends to draw a snobby crowd. It’s not rude to think that, that’s just the way it is. And yet, here in Equestria, commoners rub withers with the wealthy and noble. Her tea appreciation tea party isn’t some by-invitation-only event, nor is there an eye-watering cover charge just to get in: it’s open to anyone until the seats run out.
There’s already quite a crowd of ponies. Some of them you know, or know of. Bon Bon, resident of Ponyville, a candymaker who traveled all the way to Canterlot to sample new varieties of tea. Does she sell tea-flavored chocolates, or is she here for another reason?
And there’s Fancy Pants and Fleur, social butterflies in Canterlot and beyond. A well-respected lawyer and a fashion icon, and yet not above anybody in the crowd. The two of them carve a path through class and social norms. They can talk to anypony and it won’t be remarked upon—is that how they are, or a brilliant cover?
A griffon, looking out of place on his seat. It wasn’t built for griffons. Why is he here?
And those aren’t the only guests; those are just the ones you take immediate note of. The other seats are filled in with what you would consider an average slice of Canterlot; a few rich ponies showing off their wealth, a few really rich ponies dressing down, and some commoners and laborers who really enjoy tea or their chance to mingle.
•••
The tea party starts when the last seat’s taken, or when Tealove decides that nobody else will arrive. The first pot is always something only semi-exotic, maybe a new twist on an old idea or a new teamaker. You scan the crowd as she explains it, as she discusses the fragrance notes that make it up and the origins of the flavors. She’s got the almost undivided attention of the crowd; the griffon is filing his talons. You don’t know the message coded in, but you can watch who’s paying attention, or who’s making a point of not paying attention.
“This tea is Imported from Abyssinia by Captain Celaeno, and the final blending takes place in the commercial district under the supervision of Capper.”
She lifts the cozy off the teapot and the smell wafts through the tearoom, filling your nostrils with its scents. You can smell the jasmine and rosehips and the subtler scent of saffron, and you’ve also noticed how the griffon perked up when she mentioned Capper.
Bon Bon had an ear-flicker; nobody else reacted at all.
You make a mental note of that as you accept your teacup. It’s hoof-friendly, as you’d expect, which makes it a little weird to hold.
Wouldn’t it be a great joke if she decided to drug the tea? Or poison it?
That takes your mind down a rabbit hole as you sniff your tea, to all appearances just sampling the smell. If she was using a poison, it’d be masked by the flavor, wouldn’t it? She’d know how, she’d know what covered or blended with what.
There are trick teapots that can pour out of two or more compartments . . . just because it seems everyone got the same thing, that’s not necessarily true.
It’s fantastic, the smell only hinting at the flavor bomb that explodes on your taste buds. The saffron hides and then comes in late, adding one final twist of complexity to the flavor, something you might not have been able to identify if she hadn’t told you it was there.
Does any of the tea come from where she says it does?
You’ve visited her tea shop other times, and you know her menu. Restaurants you’re used to serve drinks off a standard menu, but she’s also got a mix your own option where you can pick flavors.
The first round is done, and glasses of water are passed around to cleanse the palate. You swish the water around and then drink it—if it was a wine tasting, you’d spit it back in the glass, but that’s gauche.
You’ve got some of the pieces in place. Bon Bon and the griffon are suspect . . . but then the griffon’s too obvious. Isn’t he? Or is that his cover?
You don’t know. If you did know, you wouldn’t be here. The layers are stacked up just like the flavors in her tea.
A new blend, this one bitter. A mysterious green, deeper than her coat. She pours it into clear teacups so everyone can appreciate the color, and you watch the crowd. The circle is your friend, it gives you a great vantage point. A working pony with a short-cropped tail and harness scars in her coat is the first to drop a cube of sugar in her drink, does that mean anything? Is that a cue to someone else?
How deep does the rabbit hole go?
Fleur frowns as she sips it, Fancy takes it in stride. The griffon opts for milk, and Bon Bon sets her teacup down without tasting it—one sniff and she was out.
Your attention is suddenly drawn to a dusky green stallion who’s focused on Bon Bon. Is he an admirer or something else?
You take a deep breath. This isn’t your first rodeo—tea party—and you can’t be suspicious of everything and everpony. Most of it is what it seems.
Most of it.
The griffon stirs his sugarcube in with a freshly-filed talon; is that a warning?
If so, for whom?
You scan the crowd. You’ve got some of the puzzle pieces in place, but there are still some you don’t know. Tealove’s dropping code words in her tea descriptions, the entire thing appearing safe and normal since it’s open to the public. Bon Bon’s a secret agent of some sort, but she might not be the one you’re interested in.
The griffon seems out of place, like he’s trying to both be subtle and also send messages. He has much of his attention focused on Fancy and Fleur, which means that either they’re secret agents or else they aren’t but he thinks they are.
It’s enough to make your head whirl. Agents and double agents, who watches who? Where are you in this, anyway?
Does it matter? You’ve got a job to do, and even if you haven’t wrapped up everyone, you’ve got probable IDs on four.
Without even thinking about it, your hand slips into your pocket, to the badge you carry there. You’ve got enough to make a move . . . don’t you?
[CHOICE]
>call out what you know (villain)
>let things play out (chaos)
[CHOICE A: Villain]
Tealove’s got her code, but you do too. You make what anybody could interpret as an innocent gesture with your hand—twice, just to make sure. Across from you, a unicorn’s horn lights briefly, barely enough to notice, especially as he follows up by dropping another sugarcube into his drink.
Message sent, message received—you give it another minute to let your allies get into position, and to also make sure that nobody remembers him lighting his horn. The casual conversation continues unabated; Tealove turns to get another pot. Out of respect, you wait just a little longer, until she returns, and then you make your move, effortlessly slipping your badge out of your pocket.
“Tealove, you are under arrest for being a spy.”
Eyes around the room go wide.
“We’re professionals here.” You flash your badge at her. “Don’t try anything funny.”
“I’m not a spy,” she says. “Just a pony who loves tea.”
“Yeah, yeah.” You hear the crash as the special operations team kicks down the front door. “Tell that to the judge.”
You take your eyes off her for a moment, and turn to Bon Bon. “You, too. I know you’re up to something.”
She snorts. “What, you think I’m a mare from S.M.I.L.E.? Tea not agreeing with you?”
It’s unnecessary to mention that all eyes in the room are on you. Some in confusion, some who know exactly what’s going on.
“I know what I saw,” you say. “Keep your hooves where I can see them.”
[CHOICE B: Chaos]
You’ve got an idea, but you don’t know for sure. You sit back and let Tealove take your glass, let her bring out another pot of tea. She’s in it deep, she’s the code talker. Bon Bon’s listening, and so is the griffon. You’ve got your suspicions of Fleur and Fancy, and the mare with the harness scars in her coat’s sus, too.
You watch as Tealove pours the tea, twisting her head as the pot gets low.
That should have been a clue, but you were one level too deep in the conspiracy and miss it. Fleur’s got an apprehensive look, while Fancy’s got his eyes locked on the griffon and they both have your attention as Tealove very carefully distributes the glasses.
Very carefully,
It’s only after the first sip of tea that you realize that Tealove’s a step ahead of you. She knows what you are, and she knows that you know she’s sending hidden messages with her tea.
She’s said something as she poured your tea, something you’d ignored as a pleasantry, but it had been a message. And if only Fleur had caught it, things would have gone very differently—but she wasn't the only one who noticed; the griffon perked up right away, and while you missed the kickoff, you weren’t completely oblivious.
Agents and double agents and counter-espionage and you all collide in a good old-fashioned standoff, everyone threatening everyone else.
Tealove looks at the collected catastrophe and reaches under the table, drawing out a blunderbuss.
“Whee, what a predicament.”