‘Tis the height of Summer, when the sun’s bright glow
Gladdens the hearts of ponies both young and old,
And the stiff east breeze stirs the flags to fly
From the tops of the towers raised to the sky
Of Canterlot, that mountainside city supreme
To which many aspire in search of their dream:
The pegasus to race with masters of the sky,
Earth ponies that build, and rodeo on the sly,
Unicorn scholars plumb the depth of magic skill,
And the elite seek the favor of the Princess’s will.
It is on this glad day we four go to seek
Our destinies in this grand city so… so…
Harlequin waved his outstretched mustard-yellow hoof in slow circles at the distant city he’d been praising a few times before dropping down into a seated position with an irritated swish of his tri-colored tail. “Bleak, reek, neat,” he rattled off, wracking his mind for a good rhyme, and then gave up with an irritated snort. “Ah forget it. I’ve lost the rhythm anyway.”
“It was very impressive nonetheless Quin,” said the azure unicorn mare who was presently pulling the caravan wagon, of which Harlequin was riding on the roof, “Especially for being improvised.”
“Bah,” Harlequin scoffed, rolling his eyes, “You don’t have to act all supportive Trixie; there isn’t anypony around to try and convince that we’re a big happy family.”
“I was being serious,” Trixie said, casting a glance back at her passenger, “The Great and Powerful Trixie may have a way with words, but even I can’t just throw out that many rhymes off the top of my head.”
“Aye,” the grizzled, caramel-cream pegasus known as Barnacle Salt, former sea captain, said from his position flying alongside the wagon, “take it from a master yarn-weaver lad, ya got a knack for poetic timing there. Maybe you missed yer real calling?” Harlequin cast a withering glance at the pegasus, but after a moment of meeting Barnacle’s teasing smirk they both broke down into laughter.
“I’ll just leave the word-smithing to you and Trix,” Harlequin said, “And you leave the real entertaining to me.” Trixie and Barnacle’s rebuttals were cut off by the opening of the viewing hatch above the wagon’s riding board to reveal a sea-green face with bright golden eyes.
“Excuse me,” she said, “are we there yet? I’m hungry.”
“Not yet Cabbage,” Trixie said, nodding at the winding road that lay between them and Canterlot, “You may help yourself to the food we have if you want. We’ll be restocking at the city anyway.”
“Just don’t touch the pears,” Harlequin said, leaning over the edge with a joking smile on his face, “ol’ Salt doesn’t like ponies eating his pears.”
“I know,” Cabbage Patch said seriously and closed the hatch.
“I swear, getting that filly to laugh is like pulling teeth,” Harlequin muttered, “I thought she liked me.”
As Trixie pulled the wagon up to the city gates, she found her way barred by a pair of pegasus Guards. The matching pair looked over Trixie, the wagon, and the two stallions on it with unreadable expressions, and then one of them said, “Please identify yourself.”
Trixie’s usual scathing retort to such questions was quelled by the intimidating stares being directed at her, so instead she spoke meekly. “Trixie Lulamoon,” she said, averting her gaze.
“Of Trixie’s Traveling Thespians?” one of the guards asked.
“The same,” Trixie answered.
The guards nodded and stood aside. “Her Highness Princess Luna instructs that you and your troupe be directed to the palace for an audience at your earliest convenience,” the guard on the left said officiously, “Do you require a guide?”
“N-no thanks,” the azure unicorn said, moving as quickly as she could without seeming rude, “Trixie is sure she can find her own way.” The guards merely nodded and stood like statues until the wagon and its ponies had entered the city proper, and then slipped away into less obvious locations to keep watch over the gate.
“Creepy how good those guys are at being… well, creepy,” Harlequin said. Barnacle merely nodded his agreement while Trixie and Cabbage kept their opinions to themselves. They made their way along the main roads, keeping the palace in sight as much as possible, passing quickly from the common quarter into neighborhoods were the passersby wore more and fancier clothes and occasionally cast judgmental glances at the troupe’s rather plain conveyance. Trixie kept herself under control by the mere fact that nopony had actually said anything yet, but when she glanced back at her companions she could see that Harlequin seemed ready to burst.
“Easy Quin,” she advised during a moment when they were alone on the street, “we shouldn’t make a scene yet. Once our business with the Princess is concluded, they will see us in a different light.” Harlequin grumbled and moved toward the back of the wagon in preparation to jump down and go inside. Before he could make the leap, however, a lavender-coated unicorn with a highlighted slate-blue mane appeared from a cross-street and waved cheerfully at the group after a brief moment of surprise.
“Trixie! There you are!” the mare called out as she trotted over.
“Twilight Sparkle,” Trixie said in a neutral tone, “Please tell Trixie you’re not here on her account.”
“Huh? Oh, well, not exactly,” Twilight said with an embarrassed smile, “I mean, I wasn’t planning on running into you; I came to pick up some books I need and visit with Princess Celestia, but then I heard you might be coming and ran into somepony who’s been looking for you.” She looked over her shoulder down the street she’d come from and waved, calling out, “Maggie! I found them!” A light grey earth pony with a long, iron-straight mane and tail colored a darker grey and a bronze balance scale over a partially rolled scroll for a cutie mark came trotting down the road, smiling broadly as she neared the wagon.
“Hello Trixie, Captain Salt, Harlequin,” Maggie Pie said, “How nice to see you again.”
“G’day to ye Miss Pie,” Barnacle said, “What can we do for you?”
“We don’t owe you money, do we?” Harlequin asked darkly.
Maggie shook her head. “I’m here because you still need me, and I’m willing to forgive you for sneaking out on me in the middle of the night.”
“Actually,” Trixie said, “We do not require your services any longer. We are on our way to accept a royal sponsorship from Princess Luna herself. We’re set for life so far as money is concerned.”
“No you’re not,” Maggie said seriously, “the Princess may be sponsoring you, but even the royal treasury has its limits, and funding a small band of performers is going to be quite low on the priorities list, especially if they spend that funding recklessly.” Trixie and Barnacle’s eyes both slid toward Harlequin, who met the looks with an insulted snort. “You’re going to need a pony who knows her way around a ledger and PR more than ever,” Maggie continued.
“Very well,” Trixie said with a bit of reluctance, “Trixie supposes we can give you another chance.” Maggie nodded once, satisfied. “As for you Twilight,” Trixie continued, “I mean no offense, but I would prefer it if you weren’t present at our audience with Luna.”
Twilight rolled her eyes. Trixie was convinced, and not without good reason, that Twilight and her five closest friends were a jinx on the showmare’s performances. “I need to get back to Ponyville soon anyway,” she said, trotting past the wagon, “Good luck, all of you.”
“Take care,” Trixie called after her, and then resumed pulling the wagon toward the palace.
Another set of Royal Guards, a pair of the dark-toned unicorns this time, met the troupe at the foot of the bridge leading to the castle’s main entrance. Feeling more confident, Trixie announced herself and the troupe with the pride befitting her stage persona, “The Great and Powerful Trixie’s Traveling Thespians have arrived for their royal audience.”
“Very well,” the guard on the right said as Trixie unhitched herself and Barnacle coaxed Cabbage out into the open, “You may enter. An aide will be waiting to escort you to the throne room.” Trixie began to nod in thanks, but then balked when the other guard stepped into the wagon harness.
“What are you doing with Trixie’s caravan?” she asked.
“Taking it to be repainted and brought up to the standards set by the Princesses,” the guard answered calmly, “It will be returned to you before you depart.”
“I sincerely hope so,” Trixie muttered as the guard hauled it away, “My life savings went into it.” She looked at her companions, Harlequin putting on a mask of confidence over his nervousness, Maggie showing her jitteriness at the thought of meeting royalty for all to see, little Cabbage Patch quaking like a leaf under the gaze of unfamiliar ponies, and Barnacle keeping a wing over her protectively. “Well, let’s not keep Princess Luna waiting,” Trixie said, summoning her iconic hat and cape, “Onward!”
A stuffy-looking unicorn in a perfectly pressed suit jacket and cravat met them as they entered the castle foyer and led them in weary silence to the doors of the throne room, and then instructed them to wait while he announced them. A minute later the doors opened wide, revealing the grand and mostly empty throne room and the dark blue and pink alicorns who occupied the tall dais at the far end. A few ponies dressed in varying degrees of formality stood along either side of the carpet leading to the dais, and they watched with interest as Trixie led her group along it.
“Trixie,” Princess Luna said in a loud, cheerful tone, “what a welcome sight you and your friends are. It is good to have a chance to engage in some frivolity in days like these.”
“You honor us Princess,” Trixie said, “but… Trixie is afraid her troupe isn’t prepared to put on a show at this moment. We thought this was simply going to be a chance to formally request your sponsorship.”
“Ah,” Luna said, “Well, no matter. We do hope you will put on at least one show before you leave Canterlot.”
“Of course your highness,” Harlequin spoke up, “we’d be honored.”
“Wonderful,” Luna said, “then from henceforth ye shall be known as Luna’s Own Traveling Performers, and nopony may bar you in thy quest to bring entertainment to the masses!”
“Luna’s Own?” Trixie mumbled at the floor, “But this is Trixie’s show…”
“Is something the matter Ms. Trixie?” Luna’s companion on the dais asked.
“No, no,” Trixie said quickly, snapping her head up and smiling falsely, “Thank you Your Highness. We’ll… see ourselves out now?” Luna nodded and the five supplicants left the throne room.
The Royal Inscrutably Serene Expression faded slightly from Luna’s face as the doors closed, betraying a slight frown. “Have we any more petitioners on the schedule today, seneschal pony?” she asked.
“No Princess,” the seneschal answered after checking his list.
“Good,” the Night Princess said, and then smiled sweetly at the pink alicorn and said, “You should be able to handle any unexpected visitors, right Cadance? I think I am… getting the munchies I think is the phrase. I’ll return shortly.”
“I think so Aunt Luna,” Cadance replied. Luna nodded thankfully and descended to the floor, taking her leave at a sedate pace.
“Trixie is starting to have second thoughts,” Trixie said as her troupe walked through the castle.
“Is it really that important to have your own name in the title?” Harlequin asked, “That’s rather self-centered of you.”
“You never complained about it before,” Trixie replied sardonically, “Now how will anypony know to expect the Great and Powerful Trixie if they aren’t told that Trixie is coming?”
“Luna’s Own Traveling Performers, starring Trixie,” Maggie suggested, “Would that be satisfactory?”
“Great and Powerful Trixie,” the showmare corrected, “and that will suffice.”
“If that’s the case,” Barnacle Salt said, “then we’d best get down to where they’re keepin’ our stage so we can tell them what words to paint on it.”
“But, where is it?” Cabbage asked. Everypony stopped, glanced at her, and then looked at one another.
Maggie’s gaze lingered longer on the little sea-green mare than the others’s did. “Good question Cabbage,” she said, “Why don’t you go see if you can find somepony who can give us directions?” Cabbage’s eyes went wide with fright until Barnacle gave her a reassuring nudge.
“We can all go together,” he said.
“Actually, you three go ahead,” Maggie said, indicating Harlequin along with Barnacle and Cabbage, “Trixie, could I have a word in private with you?”
“I suppose,” Trixie answered, giving the grey earth pony a strange look, which grew even more confused when she was quickly dragged away down another hallway and into a seemingly empty room. “What has possessed you?” she asked with exasperation.
“How much do you know about Cabbage Patch?” Maggie asked.
“What?” Trixie exclaimed, bewildered, “Why are you asking? I hope you aren’t implying something bad about her, because she’s harmless; a sweet, painfully shy filly Barnacle took under his wing when she was living on the streets, with a real but untapped talent for impressions.”
“Untapped talent,” Maggie said, “is that why, even though she looks to be entering early mare-hood, she still doesn’t have her cutie mark, do you think?”
“What are you talking about Maggie?” Trixie asked suspiciously, “She does… Uh, wait…” She sat down as her face scrunched up quizzically. “Does Cabbage have a cutie mark?” she muttered to herself, “I don’t think I’ve ever noticed.”
“Strange isn’t it?” Maggie asked solemnly, “Cutie marks are such an important part of anypony’s identity that they’re usually the first or second thing we notice when meeting a new pony, but until just now when I got a good look at Cabbage I hadn’t even thought about looking at hers. This time though, something felt wrong when I looked, and I noticed she was a blank.” Her eyes drifted upward and she tapped her chin contemplatively. “Huh, I wonder if this means my Pie Sense is starting to develop at last?”
“Pie Sense?” Trixie asked.
“It’s a trait me and my sisters seem to share,” the earth pony explained, “Or maybe my whole family has it but it doesn’t always develop. Pinkamena and Susan both have a kind of sixth sense: Pinkie can predict the immediate future and Susan can see a pony’s aura. Now it looks like I might have my own…” She shook her head and looked straight at Trixie, sobering. “This isn’t about me though,” she said, “I’m rather concerned that Cabbage Patch apparently makes ponies ignore the fact that she doesn’t have a cutie mark.”
“That does seem like a matter for concern,” Princess Luna said as she emerged from a shadowed corner of the room. Trixie and Maggie both jumped in fright and the Princess blushed apologetically. “Sorry to have startled you,” she said, “I was hoping to get the chance to invite you to a more… casual meeting than open court. However, I suspect this mystery you’ve raised about your smallest member may spoil any attempts at having fun.”
“We’ll get to the bottom of it,” Maggie said, “All we need to do is ask Cabbage, and maybe Barnacle, directly about it.”
“No,” Trixie protested, “We need to tread with caution. Cabbage Patch and Barnacle Salt still consider each other more important to them than the rest of us; I do not want to risk ruining what friendships I have by being to callous.”
“Then how should we-” Maggie began, only to be cut off by a loud declaration from Princess Luna.
“Huzzah! I have the perfect plan. Quick, we must gather everypony before the lunch rush begins!”
“Huh?” Trixie and Maggie chorused as Luna picked them up in her magic and carried them out of the hall at a fast trot.
Near Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns stood a restaurant called Mare Colander’s. It was a casual eatery that was particularly popular with both students and visitors to the city who were craving the taste of a home cooked meal for a reasonable price. It was especially famed for its hoof-made pies, which won awards on a regular basis. It also happened to be Princess Luna’s favorite place to eat outside the palace, but besides a few trusted individuals this fact was a carefully guarded secret because whenever she slipped away to partake of the food and atmosphere she did so in the guise of Stella Moon. So it was that the five members of the newly-commissioned royal performance troupe were led to a somewhat private booth in the restaurant by a tall dark lavender unicorn with a night-black mane and a gibbous moon cutie mark and took their seats with her in the centermost spot.
“It’s mighty nice of you to treat us to lunch, uh, ma’am” Barnacle Salt said.
“Think nothing of it,” Stella said, “it’s my pleasure. Order whatever you desire.” They did so, and once the waiter left with their orders Stella rapped a hoof on the table to forestall any conversation. “Now,” she said, “now that we are all committed to our meals, I would share the real reason I’ve gathered you here.” She shared a knowing glance with Trixie and Maggie Pie and then kept her eyes on the latter as she continued, “It is my understanding that this fine filly is a relative newcomer to your group, and as such there’s a lot she does not know about each of you. In the interests of getting to know one another better and to have a bit of light fun, I propose a little contest of storytelling. We will each take turns telling a tale about ourselves or something that had a profound impact upon who we are today. Actually, I will opt out of the telling so as to serve as an impartial judge. For whomever tells the most impressive or revealing tale, I will commission the royal kitchens to prepare a special treat of their choice. What do you say?”
“Sounds like fun to me,” Harlequin said.
“I can’t say no to a storytelling contest,” Barnacle Salt said, raising an imaginary mug in toast.
“And Trixie never backs down from a challenge,” Trixie said with a confident smirk.
“I agree,” Maggie said, “This should be quite entertaining.
“Um…” Cabbage said quietly, “I’m not sure-”
“Wonderful,” Stella Moon said in triumph, “Now, who should start us out?”