//------------------------------// // 11. Objects in Motion, Pt. I // Story: At the Grand Galloping Gala // by RainbowDoubleDash //------------------------------// Zizanie couldn’t stop herself from scowling as she tried, for the fifth time, to get close to Blueblood. Even beside him would have been fine – just close enough to discretely add a few drops of Truth is a Scourge to his drink. It hadn’t worked. Trying to just directly levitate some in, requiring some very fine application of telekinesis, had proved fruitless as well, due to that earth pony getting in the way every single time. She was like a hurricane in pink, moving around Blueblood constantly as she talked to him, nonstop, barely pausing for breath. Blueblood himself seemed to be gradually growing to regret his decision to remain with her for the night, but had apparently not yet been exasperated enough to send her away or try to duck out, an impressive feat of self-control in and of itself as he had not yet had a time to actually take a single sip from his drink, so engaged was the pink pony keeping him. That was particularly grating on Zizanie as well – that Blueblood’s patience for the pink pony seemed to far outstrip her own, and he was the one dealing with her. She could only assume that he was keeping his exasperation assuaged with thoughts of how that energy could be put to use later, after the Gala – something Zizanie couldn’t count on herself. The professional saboteur stomped a hoof at it all, daring any of the nearby ponies who saw her do it to ask why, as Raindrops rejoined her. “No luck?” she asked. Zizanie glared at the pegasus. “This is your fault!” she noted. “If you had just been acting more feminine like I told you to…” Raindrops grimaced, one of her hooves twitching. She visibly took several moments to calm herself before responding. “Pinkie Pie came out of nowhere,” she said in a determinedly even tone. “It’s not my fault.” Zizanie’s eye twitched, even as she levitated out her pocket watch and checked it again. She’d been at this for half an hour – it was now nine o’clock. Trixie’s plan called for activating all the truth poisons at midnight, and she still had to make sure that the blue unicorn’s other idiot friends weren’t screwing up. Part of Zizanie’s profession was knowing when to cut one’s losses and move on to the next target. “Okay,” she said. “Forget it. Stay here, get him if you can, but I have other places to be.” Raindrops nodded, looking relieved at the thought of Zizanie going away. The unicorn herself was glad to be going, as she was fairly certain that Raindrops wanted to pummel her face in and had since they first met. Whatever. She had a job to do. She did, however, take a slight detour on her way towards finding the next of Trixie’s friends. Her musings about knowing when to cut one’s losses had reminded her of another maxim of sabotage and blackmail: always have an escape plan. It took only a few minutes by and behind the punch tables to set up hers. --- Trixie got a creeping feeling up the back of her neck, the almost supernatural sense that something was watching her. Looking around, she found the source of the feeling quickly in the form of a pair of golden, annoyed looking eyes. After a moment, she realized that the eyes belonged to a blue pony with a darker blue mane that was approaching her swiftly, a unicorn dressed in a maroon jacket and black undershirt, and nothing else – surprisingly simple attire for a viceroy. Night Light finished his trot up to Trixie, though he visibly grimaced as he closed in. His eyes darted elsewhere, and Trixie followed them. She saw Luna, who was out amidst the Gala, talking with ponies and seemingly paying no mind to what was happening over at the bar, at least until she glanced up and gave Night Light a hard glare. It was no harder, though, then the one that Trixie gave to Night Light herself as her attention turned back to him, even as she felt heat rising in her chest and at the back of her neck. Night Light closed his eyes, breathing out a long sigh. “Representative Trixie,” he said. “My actions concerning Ponyville over the past week have been reprehensible, as was the ultimatum delivered to you. I apologize.” Trixie’s own eyes narrowed. She had been trying for months now to apologize for her own slights against the Starlight family, and had meant it every time. Now Night Light thought that he could just trot up while Luna was watching and expect her to just take it? “You’re only apologizing because Luna is making you,” she noted. “You’re not sorry.” Night Light considered a moment. “The Princess asked only that I offer an apology,” he noted. “She said nothing of waiting all night for you to accept it.” With that, Night Light turned around swiftly on his hooves, trotting off. Trixie snorted, turning back to her drink, considering a moment, then draining it in a single gulp. Suddenly, having only one drink before dinner wasn’t seeming like something she wanted to do, plan or no plan. It was then that she heard a motherly voice whisper into her ear via her earring. “Trixie,” Ditzy said, “I’m only telling you this because you’re my friend: you’re an idiot.” “Hey!” Trixie exclaimed. Fortunately, nopony noticed. --- Ditzy’s Gala experience had, so far, proven to be somewhat lackluster compared to both what it was made out to be, and what she had been told to expect. Not that she wasn’t enjoying herself – it was just that she was doing so by talking to her friends from Ponyville and keeping an eye on Dinky, both things she could have easily done back in Ponyville itself. Dinky was enjoying herself well enough – some of the Night Court and other guests had brought their own foals, as had a larger number of the Ponyvillians. On seeing the unexpectedly large number – about thirty in all – of especially little ponies this year, Luna had guided them, noble and common both, over to one corner of the ice palace. She then used her magic to sculpt it into a small play area, complete with slides, tunnels, swings, even a sandbox, though the sand in this case was instead snow – all of it magically kept warm via the same enchantment that kept the ice palace intact. Once finished, she pulled aside a pair of Night Guards and instructed them to keep an eye on the foals, so that their parents, if they wanted to, could still enjoy the Gala without a need for worry. Ditzy hadn’t felt a need to engage in the Gala overmuch yet – her part in the Plan (in her mind, it warranted capitalization) wasn’t until its end. Instead, she’d simply watched as Dinky played with both her friends from Ponyville, and made new friends with the other foals who’d come. While at first the two groups of foals had kept themselves fairly split along noble-commoner lines, almost as soon as Dinky had worked up the courage to go over to the nobles – which had not taken long – the line had blurred, then disappeared entirely within minutes. If Dinky’s special talent isn’t making friends, Ditzy mused, then I’m going to lodge a complaint with the universe. Ditzy herself had never had too much trouble getting along with other ponies, but Dinky was capable of forging actual friendships apropos of nothing. Serendipity saw to it that Ditzy happened to glance away from the icy playground just as Viceroy Night Light walked into the Gala. He was dressed surprisingly simply for a viceroy, no better than any of the Ponyvillian stallion in attendance – almost looked like something he’d put on solely so that he could claim to be properly dressed. He spent a few moments looking around, before his eyes settled on Trixie, still sitting at the bar, where she was directing everypony else’s efforts in the Plan. He immediately made a beeline for her. Ditzy was too far away to tell exactly what was said, of course, but simply seeing the expressions on Trixie’s and Night Light’s faces told her everything she needed to know. Night Light turned around quickly, the entire exchange taking less than thirty seconds. Ditzy frowned, hopping over the small wall that separated the play area and trotting over to Dinky, who was hanging upside-down on the jungle gym and talking to one of her new friends as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Muffin?” Ditzy said. “I’m just going to go get a quick snack and talk to some friends, okay?” Dinky nodded without righting herself. “Okay, momma!” she said, giving a salute. “I won’t leave the playground.” Ditzy smiled, nuzzling Dinky, who was either not yet old enough, or else already more than wise enough, to not begrudge the open sign of affection and instead returned it wholeheartedly – though again, without righting herself on the jungle gym. With that for reassurance, Ditzy trotted out of the playground. As she did, she touched an alula to the magic earring she wore. “Trixie,” she said quietly, “I’m only telling you this because you’re my friend: you’re an idiot.” “Hey!” Trixie exclaimed from the other end. Ditzy ignored the remainder of her retort as she trotted, looking for Night Light, though she whet her whistle with some punch from a passing maître d’ first. Though she hadn’t been able to keep an eye on Night Light, that hadn’t been an impediment for Ditzy – she was able to locate him again easily enough, catching up to the viceroy just as he was about to leave the ice palace. “Viceroy Night Light!” she called after him, before he could leave the Gala entirely. Night Light paused in his retreat, turning to look at Ditzy. Like everypony on meeting her for the first time, he was thrown off by the sight of her walled eyes – currently, her right was basically on him, but the left was looking outwards and down, towards the floor – and whatever he was about to say was lost for the barest of moments before he recovered, realized he was staring, and immediately stopped by overcompensating by staring into right eye with a touch too much intensity. Ditzy was more than used to the reaction by now, and so didn’t hold it against the viceroy as she bowed, spreading her wings a bit as she did. “Your excellency,” she said. “My name’s Ditzy Doo. I’m a mail mare from Ponyville, and one of Representative Trixie’s – ” Night Light’s muzzle scrunched at that, almost imperceptibly. “Yes, I recall now,” he interrupted, his voice as even and controlled as he could make it – it was almost like he was trying to do an impression of Raindrops, Ditzy mused. “The Element of Kindness. With respect, Miss Doo, I’m afraid I have had all the Trixie that I can stomach for one night already – ” Ditzy frowned at that, as she trotted to block the viceroy’s exit. “You don’t know what I’m here to talk about,” she noted. “Is it Miss Trixie?” Ditzy’s wings fluttered slightly of their own accord. “Basically,” Ditzy admitted. Night Light nodded, unsurprised. “The matter between myself and Miss Trixie, Miss Doo, is a private one – ” “Your excellency,” Ditzy interrupted, as she stepped a little closer, “when you denied aid to Ponyville, it stopped being private.” Night Light glared down at Ditzy, though he didn’t seem able to think up a retort for that. Ditzy idly wondered when the last time somepony had cornered and challenged him so openly was. Surprisingly, he didn’t seem to be taking it poorly as he closed his eyes, letting out a long sigh. “Miss Doo,” he said, “my sole reason for coming to the Gala tonight was to apologize to Miss Trixie over the matter. She did not accept the apology. The matter is, therefore, something I consider to be closed.” He opened his eyes. “There can be no reconciliation between myself and Miss Trixie.” Ditzy looked Night Light over. “You didn’t come to apologize,” she said. “Oh, you came to say the words, but you aren’t sorry.” Night Light nodded. “You are very astute, Miss Doo,” he said. “There can be no reconciliation between myself and Trixie. You’re too young to understand why.” In a way, what Night Light said was almost a compliment, albeit an unintentional one. Ditzy nevertheless shook her head. When she stopped, she found her eyes had shifted a little, and adjusted herself so that one of them could continue to be focused on Night Light even as the other now looked at the ceiling. “What do you mean, too young?” she asked, though she knew what he probably meant. Night Light sighed again, even as he made to move past Ditzy. “When you have foals of your own, you’ll know,” he said, probably intending to sound very grave and wise as he did. Ditzy reached out a hoof, blocking Night Light’s path. “I do have a foal of my own,” Ditzy said. She moved to be standing in front of Night Light again. “A little filly. She’s here tonight, actually.” Night Light was genuinely surprised, as he did a double-take of Ditzy. “I’m – I’m sorry,” he said. “You look too – well, that is, I assumed – ” Ditzy’s own eyes widened a little at just how flabbergasted Night Light seemed to become. His posture, his tone of voice, all completely changed – more to the point, they seemed to become much more natural and familiar to him. After several long moments, he realized that he was stuttering, and took a moment to settle himself. “I’m sorry,” he said. Ditzy smiled. “It’s alright, everypony makes that mistake,” she said, fluttering her wings slightly. She turned, pointing back to the play area. “That’s her, the unicorn filly hanging upside down. Her name’s Dinky Doo.” She looked back to Night Light. “You knew I was the Element of Kindness, but didn’t know I was a mother?” Night Light shifted uncomfortably, gradually becoming more controlled and constrained again. “I am afraid I didn’t,” he admitted. He considered Ditzy Doo for several long moments. “Miss Doo…as a mother, you must understand where I am coming from, then. I am genuinely sorry that I involved Ponyville – involved you – in my troubles with Miss Trixie. But as I said: there can be no reconciliation between us. It is Trixie’s fault that my daughter is missing at all.” Ditzy pursed her lips at that. “Your excellency,” Ditzy said, “with respect…one of the hardest things I’ve had to learn as a parent is that my daughter isn’t infallible, isn’t a perfect little flutter pony. She’s made mistakes, gotten into fights, started fights. She’s still young enough that her mistakes aren’t big, they don’t last…but I’ve learned that even though she’s my daughter and I should always give her the benefit of the doubt, she’s going to be in the wrong sometimes.” Ditzy looked closely at Night Light. “I was there when Trixie and Twilight first met,” she said. “Trixie was…defensive, and ready for a fight, but that was because Twilight had called her magic fake while she was in the middle of a stage show for foals, and then came backstage just to continue calling Trixie a fraud. There’s a lot that Trixie could have done to deal with the situation better – but there’s a lot that Twilight could have done, too.” Night Light shook his head, turning. “You don’t understand – ” “Your excellency, I don’t think you do. I think that you’re just blindly lashing out at Trixie – ” “Well what else can I do?” Night Light demanded, turning back to Ditzy and with his horn lighting up with a golden glow instinctively in anger, as Ditzy backed up several steps, her wings flaring in surprise. The exclamation caused everypony around to stop what they were doing, to turn and stare. Night Light looked at each of them, daring them to interfere. After several moments, the assembled ponies made a show of going back to their conversations and Gala, though careful eyes were kept on the viceroy. Night Light’s gaze returned to Ditzy as he trotted back up to her, quelling the angry glow of his horn as he did. “What else can I do?” he demanded a second time, his voice barely above a whisper. “I am Viceroy Night Light of Latigo, and though I claim the title by marriage into the Starlight family, I have more than earned it after thirty years of service to the Crown. I have created and struck down laws. My every decision effects the lives of hundreds of thousands of ponies at a time. I have negotiated treaties and ended wars and toppled governments. I bend knee to no mortal pony and owe my fealty only to the Princess herself, and it is only her will that could have dragged me to this…this mockery of civility and celebration that the Grand Galloping Gala has become. And yet in spite…in spite of all of that…” the viceroy backed away from Ditzy, and all of a sudden his rage seemed to disappear, along with his self-righteousness, his pride, everything, as he slumped like an ancient pony staggering under the weight of too heavy a load. “In spite of all of that,” he said, “I am powerless. My daughter is lost and alone somewhere, if she is even alive…and there is nothing that I can do.” He looked back to Ditzy. “The only thing I know,” he said, “is that my daughter blames Trixie. That it was the actions of Trixie that lead her to act how she did…that it is out of some deep and abiding concern over her. So tell me, Miss Doo…what else can I possibly do? What else would you do in my place? If your daughter was missing…and if there was a pony who could be blamed for it…” Ditzy had a good sense of exactly what she would do. Some very bad ponies had once tried to foalnap her daughter…and she had not taken it well, at all. But there was a difference here, between her own experience and Night Light’s. “If that pony was trying to reach out to me,” she said, “if she was trying to apologize, over and over…I wouldn’t try and force that pony out of her lifelong dream. I wouldn’t threaten that pony’s home town. I know that you’ll find this hard to believe…but I’d forgive her. And I’d hope that we could work together to find my daughter again.” Night Light looked Ditzy over for several moments, before turning around, making to leave the Gala. He only went a few steps, however, before stopping, standing still and thinking long and hard. At length, he walked back over to Ditzy, and he stared down at her for several long moments, before closing his eyes, and bowing his head. “Miss Doo,” he said, “you…you are a far, far better pony than I am.” Ditzy offered a slight smile. “I don’t think so,” she said softly. “I’ve made mistakes too.” “Yours didn’t nearly destroy lives.” Ditzy’s own smile faltered at that. He was right – she hadn't nearly destroy lives, she just had. “I wish that were the case,” she said softly. Night Light looked up at that, surprised, but Ditzy only shook her head. “But that’s not what’s important right now, your excellency. Trixie knows better than to hold onto hate…if you go up to her and apologize, really apologize, she’ll accept. And she really, really wants to apologize to you...if you'll let her.” Night Light grimaced, as he looked past Ditzy, back towards the bar. Ditzy followed his gaze with one eye. Trixie had just received a second drink, this one a bourbon. She did not look like she intended to make it last. The viceroy’s grimace worsened, as he grabbed a drink of his own from a maître d’ who stopped and offered one. Alarm bells went off in Ditzy’s head as she remembered that she wasn’t here just to try and fix things between the Starlights and Trixie, and further noted a very faint green tinge to Night Light’s drink. She stopped Night Light before he could take a drink. “Maybe you should get a drink with Trixie instead, viceroy?” She asked, gently removing the drink from Night Light’s effervescent aura and placing it back on the serving tray – and ignoring the maître d’s scowl. “If I know Trixie, she’ll want to do this over bourbon.” Night Light frowned slightly, before nodding, heading off and towards Trixie. Ditzy followed at a respectful distance, making sure to keep out of sight. She didn’t want Trixie to accept the apology just because she was watching, after all…it needed to be genuine. From where she was, she couldn’t hear what was being said, only observe what happened. Trixie turned around as Night Light approached, prenaturally aware of him, or else possibly catching his reflection in her glass of bourbon. She wore the deepest scowl that Ditzy had ever seen her wear, one that easily matched the look of hate that Night Light had been wearing. Night Light said something. Trixie said something back. It didn’t look like whatever she’d said had been kind. Night Light almost looked like he was going to give up right there – but he didn’t, instead leaning forward and saying something again. Trixie was visibly taken aback, her sneer dropping into a look of surprise. Ditzy edged a little closer – Trixie’s attention was focused now on Night Light, and she wouldn’t noticed the gray pegasus’ approach. “…really are sorry,” Ditzy heard Trixie say, when she was finally close enough. “I…I am,” Night Light said. “I…I do not hate you, Representative Trixie. I don’t care about you. But my daughter…” He looked down. “I want to know where she is. I want her back. I would give anything, do anything, if I thought it would help…and that sentiment made me threaten the livelihoods of hundreds of ponies just to try and destroy everything you’ve ever wanted.” Night Light looked to Trixie. “I…should not have done that.” Trixie opened her mouth to speak, but paused first. She looked down at her hooves. “Your excellency,” she said, “when I first met Twilight…the circumstances weren’t good. We fought, yelled at each other, called our respective beliefs stupid…and so I made her look like a tribalist in front of an entire town. I…” she let out a long sigh. “I should have been better.” “And I as well,” Night Light conceded. “But I am sorry, Representative.” “Me too, viceroy.” The two stared at each other awkwardly. They weren’t friends now – they would never be friends. That was understood and accepted, and perhaps a little sad…but it didn’t mean they had to be enemies. It didn’t mean that they had to glare hatred and anger at each other every time they met, do everything in their power to ruin each others’ lives. Because the simple fact was that it wasn’t going to get them anywhere. Trixie took her glass of bourbon, and poured half the contents into a second glass she procured from behind the counter. She offered one to Night Light, who took it. “A votre sante, Vice-roi.” “Na zdrowie, Przedstawiciel,” he returned in Latiganski, and the two drained the contents of their glasses. After he was finished, he set the glass down on the counter, nodded once, and left. Trixie watched him go for several moments, before breathing out a long-winded, long-needed sigh of relief. Ditzy let out one of her own as she trotted over to Trixie. “It might not feel like it,” she said, “but you’ll sleep easier tonight, trust me.” Trixie eyed the pegasus as she got a re-fill on her bourbon, as well as a glass of bourbon for Ditzy. “I’m not an idiot.” she insisted at length. Ditzy sighed. “No, you’re not,” she conceded. “But when Night Light came over here a few minutes ago, did you even try to accept his apology?” Trixie looked away. “No,” she admitted. She turned back to Ditzy. “But he wasn’t really here to apologize! He was only doing it because Luna made him.” Ditzy unfurled a wing, wrapping it around Trixie. “I know,” she said. “But if you’re not going to even try to work with that, then you’ll never get anywhere. I know it’s hard…but if you don’t do the stuff that’s hard, then the hard stuff never gets easier.” Ditzy paused, letting that sink in, before continuing. “He was angry, and scared, and he was directing it all at you, because he didn’t have anywhere else to direct it. But now it’s over and done with, and you two can move on to the important things.” Trixie considered for several moments, glancing up at the second tier of the ice palace. Above, the band was stopping for a fifteen-minute break. Trixie, in particular, had her eyes on Octavia. “Why don’t I just throw you at all my problems?” she asked, smiling slightly. Ditzy shook her head. “Night Light wouldn’t have listened to anything I said at all if you hadn’t been trying so hard over the past few months,” she assured Trixie, leaning in and giving Trixie a friendly nuzzle, which the unicorn returned. Her voice dropped lower, though. “What do you need to do with Octavia?” she asked. She didn’t recall the earth pony musician being mentioned anywhere in the Plan. “Just double-checking my soundproofing spell,” Trixie said, pulling away from Ditzy and standing. “Probably not necessary, but I’ll feel better knowing that it works. Keep an eye open for Shining Armor while I’m gone? He should be here any minute.” “Sure,” Ditzy agreed. “Just be careful…if I recall correctly, Octavia doesn’t like you. At all.” Trixie shrugged as she trotted off. “Worst comes to worst, I’ll come and get you,” she said. --- Pinkie stopped to breathe. Blueblood saw his chance, and tried to suggest that perhaps – “Which do you think sounds better?” The pink earth pony asked before Blueblood could even take in a breath to speak. “Cherrychanga or chimicherry? Or what if I combine them? Chimicherrychanga! What sounds the funniest? I like funny words! One of my favorite funny words is ‘kumquat!’ I didn’t make that one up…” --- When she had been just a little filly, many decades ago now, the parents of the future Vicereine Puissance, had told her that she would never want for anything, and for the vast majority of her life, this had been fundamentally true. Right now, however, she found herself wanting for something; namely, for Luna to put some damn clothes on. What does she think she’s doing? Puissance wondered as she eyed the monarch of Equestria from across the Gala. Of course Puissance understood the reasoning behind Luna choosing to appear in such a simple state, with naught more than a cape and crown. Puissance wasn’t an idiot, she knew that Luna wanted to reach out to the common ponies that she had invited, and she could even understand the reasoning behind it. That did not change, however, that Luna was making Puissance look bad. The Vicereine had literally been preparing for this Gala since the last one; she did the same for every Gala. Oh, she took care of her duties, of course – at the end of the day, the Gala was just one more social event and hardly compared to making sure that her fiefdom was prosperous and wealthy and that Equestria’s governance proceeded in a way that she was satisfied with. But she had an entire team of ponies on her payroll who analyzed designer trends and made sure that whatever she was wearing to the Gala was the height of taste and splendor. The particular black, diamond-studded dress she wore tonight had cost her precisely five million, six hundred twelve thousand thirty-two bits, and four jangles. This did not include the price of the earrings she wore, not the bangles, her diamond-tipped shoes, or the necklace around her throat. It did not help that her various hangers-on – nearly as many as the princess engendered – were equally overdressed, but not nearly so unaware as to the effect that this could have on their image. Luna’s entire ensemble, by contrast had probably cost less than a hundred bits – even the crown, which, being forged from pure magic, had cost Luna nothing. It was extraordinarily trying, was the point, and Puissance had been avoiding Luna all night in a probably vain attempt to not make herself look like a fool standing next to the Princess, even going so far as to spend nearly a half-hour near the buffet and have some of the punch. Not that she cared in particular what anypony attending the Gala itself thought, but there were photographers here to be considered. The last thing she needed was an article in Equestria Nightly commenting on her total disconnect from the common pony as evidenced by her dress compared to those of the Ponyvillians, never mind that she hadn’t been aware that Ponyvillians would be in attendance tonight at all. All in all, it was making her Gala experience quite unpleasant, yet she couldn’t do something as untoward as leaving early. What she needed more than anything right now was a buffer, something she could do that could only be seen in a positive light and which would deflect attention away from the fact that she was tremendously overdressed. Fortuitously, Her Majesty, consciously or not, had seen fit to provide Puissance with just such a buffer, in the form of the playground she had crafted. “Ah, foals,” Puissance said to her assembled sycophants as she slid up to the low wall that surrounded the play area. She used a wing to gesture to the play area. “I find it delightful that so many are in attendance of the Gala this year.” “Oh yes,” one of the sycophants – a baronet who’s name Puissance couldn’t be bothered to recall – said. “Yes, your excellency. In fact, just the other day I was remarking to my wife that my baronetcy – a fine little village in Coronetto called…” Puissance tuned him out even as she smiled down at him, pretending to acknowledge him and give him a sense of importance. She simply bided time with her own thoughts until he was finished speaking. “I think,” Puissance said, “that the Night Court should, in its next meeting, concern itself with the affairs of the education system. In Palomino, we have begun to enforce province-wide standards and a final provincial test that must be passed to graduate from secondary education schools. Perhaps this could be implemented across the nations?” Her sycophants agreed without question, of course – that was why they were sycophants – but Puissance heard a voice speak up from nearby. “I’m sorry, but what standards?” Puissance turned around at the voice, smiling politely. She was not surprised to find herself staring at a Ponyvillian, a magenta earth pony bedecked in a purple and red dress that looked like she was more prepared for a comparatively garden party rather than the Gala. What was surprising was that Puissance recognized the mare – Blackcherry Lee Punch, one of the Elements of Harmony. “Ah,” Puissance said, smiling down at the earth pony, feigning ignorance. “I do not believe we have been introduced. You are…?” “Cheerilee,” the pony said. “I’m a teacher from Ponyville.” Cheerilee’s humility – not mentioning her status as an Element, and using an informal pseudonym – bemused Puissance. The pegasus’ smile grew slightly as she spread her wings wide. “And I am Puissance Noctilucent Optiebeurs-Golo, Vicereine of Palomino and Califurlong.” Usually, this was when most ponies – the ones who hadn’t recognized her on sight and known to steer well clear of her – would look suitably impressed, perhaps even a little mortified. Cheerilee, however, only titled her head to the side somewhat. “You’re not on the committee of national education,” she noted. “Can you even propose any kind of educational reforms?” Puissance’s smile didn’t leave her face. Cheerilee thought she was being brave, most likely, the little mare from the little town standing up to the designs of the Big Bad Vicereine – it was quite adorable, in a way. “Indeed not,” Puissance said, looking over her shoulder as she tucked away one wing, while she used the other to gesture to one of her sycophants, a squirrely little stallion. He came forward at her obvious command. “But Lord Lucent, here – ah, my apologies, Viscount Lucent Scrawl of Konikticut – is indeed the head of the committee on national educational standards within the Night Court, while Palomino has some of the highest educational standards and best schools in all of Equestria, with Califurlong not far behind. I’m certain that, working together, we could vastly improve Equestria’s educational system.” Cheerilee looked to the viscount, who took on a look of nobility and determination, nodding. The teacher’s head tilted just a little further to the side as she looked back to Puissance. “But that’s not actually true,” she said. Puissance’s smile didn’t waver, though she did blink. “I beg your pardon?” “Well,” Cheerilee said, “first, it was discovered last year that Palomino’s standards were being kept artificially high. It was only using its top one-hundred best secondary schools to calculate them, rather than an aggregate of every school in the province. There probably should have been some kind of scandal, but it just…disappeared.” Puissance offered a sigh that in no way was really a sigh of relief over the fact that she had, in fact, been able to make that problem disappear. “Yes, I recall,” she said. “Still, the most recent studies still place Palomino as one of the most educated provinces in Equestria. It is largely thanks to our test, which ensures that educators are teaching students what they need to know to succeed in the world today.” “But the test has been getting progressively easier over the past ten years, making schools look like they are doing much better than they are,” Cheerilee noted. “And then there’s the idea of ‘standards’ in the first place. The Palomino test forces teachers to teach only about what is on the test in order to prepare her students, but as a result the teachers have to skip over other areas which might be considered important, such as ancient Equestrian history, celestial mechanics, literature, or many liberal arts, in favor of increasingly abstract math and science with limited practical application.” The Viscount Lucent looked somewhat intrigued at that point. “The Equestrian educational system has always valued history and literature,” he said noted. “And…” Puissance glared at him. He wisely wilted away from the conversation, stepping back in line with her other sycophants, who were staring at the spectacle before them. Puissance needed to recover. “Miss Cheerilee,” Puissance said, “I can understand your concerns. But I assure you, that the future of the foals are the only thing driving my actions.” Puissance stepped up closer to the low wall that separated the play area from the rest of the Gala. “I have had seven foals,” she remarked, “and many grandfoals, and indeed recently I was even blessed with a great-grandcolt, who is here tonight. I have, being a vicereine, made sure that they have all received the best of educations. What I wish, Miss Cheerilee, is to ensure that the same standards of education that I held the tutors of my foals and grandfoals and great-grandfoal.” “But those tutors were allowed to teach at their own pace,” Cheerilee pointed out, “and adapt what they were teaching to their individual students, weren’t they? A standardized test would prevent that.” “Perhaps, but you have to think of the foals, Miss Cheerilee,” Puissance insisted. She looked into the play area, and put on her best smile when she saw a familiar face, a pegasus colt hanging upside-down on a jungle gym next to a gray unicorn filly who’s pegasus mother had just nuzzled her before heading off into the Gala. “Scepter! Would you come over here for a moment?” Scepter’s eyes widened at the familiar voice, and when he looked, he saw Puissance – his great-grandmother, by way of her first daughter’s eldest son. Almost instantly, he was on the ground, as was his playmate, though he hesitated for a moment before trotting forward, the gray unicorn accompanying him. “H-hello, grandma Puissance,” he said. “Hi, Miss Cheerilee!” the unicorn filly said, with much more enthusiasm, as she waved at Cheerilee. The earth pony teacher returned the wave, even as she finished a low conversation with a maître d’ that had appeared from nowhere and disappeared just as fast. Puissance barely paid maître d’s mind in the first place, and only acknowledged this one by proxy, and she had little interest in whatever it was that Cheerilee had discussed with her. There was a very slight nagging feeling at Puissance’s mind, but she paid it no heed as she focused on Cheerilee. “Scepter, my sweet little colt,” Puissance said, leaning down to him. “I believe that Ink Blot is your tutor right now, correct?” Scepter shifted uncomfortably. He was younger than his new unicorn friend, though that hadn’t seemed to matter to the young filly. His bearing didn’t seem to match his regal-sounding name at all, and certainly didn’t make him appear like the colt who would one day inherit the title of viceroy and head of the House Optiebeurs-Golo. He would grow into it, Puissance was sure – that was why she had insisted he be named such, damn what her grandson had wanted (it had been something inane, like “Flicker”). “Come now, Scepter,” Puissance pressed. “What’s the matter?” Scepter looked nervously up at his great-grandmother. “Daddy says I’m not s’posed to tell you.” All at once, the magical enchantment keeping the ice palace warm seemed to fail, at least for Puissance. She couldn’t stop herself from glancing back at Cheerilee. “I beg your pardon?” she asked before she could stop herself. “Daddy said that I’m not s’posed to talk to you neither,” Scepter said, “’cause he says that you’re real mean and that you wouldn’t like it if I said that Ink Blot isn’t tutoring me ‘cause she’s real mean too, so that’s why I’ve been going to public school even though I’m a noble, ‘cause it’s important for me to make real friends.” Puissance drew back from Scepter, eyes narrow. “N-now Scepter,” Puissance said, her wings flexing pensively, “you really shouldn’t be lying to your great-grandmother, it’s not good for her heart.” “But the doctors say you’ve got a heart like an ox!” Scepter objected. “And daddy says that’s too bad too.” Puissance’s face contorted in rage when she heard that. The – the insolence! How dare Banner? No doubt this was his idea of revenge just for the fact that she had arranged for his mother – Puissance’s eldest daughter, Regalia – to be locked out of the Night Court, and in fact been sent to be the ambassador to Tapira. Puissance had been entirely justified, though, as Regalia had been trying to convince Puissance to leave the Court! Take Puissance’s power for her own! But Puissance wouldn’t abandon her vicereineity, not while there was even an ounce of blood flowing through her veins, not while she had a single breath left to breathe, not while – Flash. Puissance blinked, and glanced over to one side. She saw a pony with a camera, and a flashing bulb cutie mark. Instantly her brain did some quick mental math and perspective adjustments, and realized that that at the moment the photograph was taken, due to the angles, she would have appeared to have been glaring hate down at a little foal – specifically, the gray unicorn accompanying Scepter, who was in the way of Scepter himself. More importantly, the teacher Cheerilee would be in-shot, probably looking nervous or concerned. “Vicereine Puissance Hates Ponyville Foals,” the headline would read. Puissance came to three conclusions. First, her grandson needed to be taught a lesson in power, and would likely learn it when he joined his mother in Tapira, or else received his own ambassadorship in the Griffin Kingdoms, if Puissance could arrange it. Second, the freelance photographers of Canterlot were entirely too adept at finding the precisely the right moment to take precisely the wrong photograph, and the freedom of press probably needed to be curtailed for public events such as the Gala. Third, she needed that camera. Now. Unfortunately, the photographer seemed to realize exactly what it was that he had, and quickly turned on his hooves and fled – not so fast as to draw attention to himself, but far quicker than Puissance was entirely happy with. “Wait! Stop!” She demanded, taking off after him… Cheerilee watched her go, trailed by her sycophants, who were perhaps about to become spectators to an embarrassing event that they didn’t want to miss. She looked down to Scepter and Dinky, a smile on her face. “How’s your night?” she asked. “Great, Miss Cheerilee!” Dinky said, then pointed to Scepter. “This is one of my new friends. His name is Scepter, but he likes being called Flicker instead. He’s the hair to the viceroyalty of Palomino and Califurlong!” “Heir,” Cheerilee corrected automatically, “the H is silent. Oh, but I’m not your teacher tonight, am I? You should run off with your new friend and have fun.” She looked to Scepter who, in the absence of his great-grandmother, looked much more at ease. “It was a pleasure meeting you, your excellency,” she told him, giving a very formal bow. Scepter giggled at it. “I’m not a viceroy yet…” he said. “But I am Baronet of Cavesson! But my daddy holds it in trust ‘til I grow up. So I’m just Flicker. It’s what my daddy calls me.” “Well, whatever else you are,” Cheerilee said, “you seem like a fine young pony, Flicker. You should go have fun with Dinky.” “We will!” Dinky said with a nod, and the two foals galloped off towards the nearest swing set, Scepter’s wings flickering in short bursts to give him extra speed – his nickname seemed to fit him much better than his given one. Cheerilee laughed a little at the eager display before turning around, following after Puissance. This was too good to miss, and she needed to stay on Puissance anyway. She tapped one hoof to her earring. “I’ve got Puissance occupied,” she told Trixie. “Kept Zizanie away, made her think I’d already poisoned her.” “Great,” Trixie said. “I’m up on the balcony, I think I can see…what’s Puissance doing?” “Hopefully? An intermission show,” Cheerilee said with a slight giggle. “Let’s just say that the pony she’s chasing took a photograph at a really bad time.” “Aw…I’m going to miss it…” “I’ll see about getting more photographs,” Cheerilee assured Trixie. --- Whether by chance or design, Luna’s ice palace had included a small room set off by itself on the second floor, away from the rest of the Gala – little more than a glorified alcove, with a window covered with paper-thin ice and only a single door inside. It was the perfect place for Octavia Philharmonica to take her fifteen-minute break from the Gala. She didn’t really need the break; for all that the Gala was the most prestigious event in all of Equestria, it was hardly trying on her skills, as all she and her fellow musicians were expected to do was provide what amounted to background music. The room kept the hustle and bustle of ponies outside to a minimum, providing a welcome respite from the sound of her music and ponies in general and giving her ears a break from noise. Half of music, after all, came from silence rather than sound, the space between the notes that would give the whole form. It was good to just sit in the quiet for a little bit, eyes closed, and listen to her own breathing and… Octavia’s ear twitched. She opened her eyes, expecting to find a pony in the room with her…but instead, she found herself still alone in the room, the door to it still closed. She was about to put the sound she’d thought she’d heard down to her imagination – even she wasn’t immune to the occasional false sensation – when she looked down at her hooves, and found herself staring at a small glass, full of punch. Octavia backed away from the glass, eyes wide as she glanced around the room again, checking behind her. She had not come in here with any drink – which meant that somepony had brought it in. Somepony she couldn’t see. Her sight, however, was not her best sense. She, slowly but carefully, trotted herself into a corner of the room, ears swiveling around on her head as she tried to listen for breathing that would have been out of place, or the telltale shimmering of a unicorn’s magic, even as she held her own breath. After several moments, however, she continued to hear nothing. Octavia frowned at that. The vibrations of the multitude of Gala ponies outside the room would make this next particular trick of hers work less well than it might have, but she nevertheless closed her eyes, beginning to hum a short, simple tune. She listened to the sound of it, and more importantly, the way it refracted off of the icy walls, floor, and ceiling of the room she was in. Octavia was familiar enough with acoustics that she could tell, if she focused, the difference in sound between a room that had only one occupant, and a room with more than one. Nothing. Octavia opened her eyes, glancing around. Apart from herself and the mysterious glass of punch, there didn’t appear to be anypony in the room. The musician blinked a few times. It was…she supposed it was possible that somepony had simply teleported the drink into the room…but she didn’t know any unicorns that could do that, least of all without line-of-sight. Octavia shook her head as she went for the door, pointedly ignoring the glass of punch. Something was going on here, and she didn’t like it, and she was not going to engage whoever had procured the punch for her in their little game as she placed her hoof against the door – “Wait, hang on.” Octavia nearly leapt from her coat at the sudden sound in the room as she whirled around. She still found herself staring at an otherwise empty room – or at least it was empty, until, at the other end, a cloud of blue smoke appeared from nowhere. It dissolved quickly, flowing off of the pony beneath it like steam… …and the next thing Octavia knew, she was advancing on Trixie Lulamoon with the firm intent to buck the unicorn squarely in the jaw. Lulamoon realized her intention, raising her hooves. “Wait, wait, wait! I’m sorry, I just needed to test out my new silence spell, and I brought punch, and cake, so you can’t be mad!” Indeed, clutched in Lulamoon’s telekinetic aura was a plate, and she swiftly grabbed the punch from the floor as well, holding both forward as a mixture of peace offering and shield. It was enough to make Octavia draw up short, glaring down at Lulamoon’s innocently-smiling face. “Only because I would most likely get cake on my dress,” Octavia said, jabbing a hoof at Trixie. Lulamoon’s smile became ever more innocent. “I just needed to test out my new-and-improved silence spell, that’s all,” she repeated, making sure to keep the cake between herself and Octavia. “I thought it’d work better if you didn’t know I was coming, though…” One of Octavia’s eyes twitched. She had a deep and abiding dislike of Lulamoon, and could not for the life of her see what her protégé, Lyra, saw in her that would make the two friends. “I am not your guinea pig,” she insisted. “I know, and it was wrong of me. Cake?” “No.” “Okay. Did it work?” Octavia’s eye twitched again. She turned around, making to leave – before a nagging question at the back of her mind stopped her. Letting out a long, suffering sigh at her own curiosity, she turned around, glaring at Trixie. “Yes.” She said, sitting down. “And I have to ask…how? You can’t be simply negating the sound, I would notice the effect on the room’s acoustics.” Lulamoon’s smile switched from innocent to smug, though she kept the cake between her and Octavia. “Well, I got to thinking,” she said. “There’s more than one way to turn invisible, right? You can just put an illusion up in front of you of whatever’s behind you, but then moving around becomes a pain, and you have to keep one eye behind you to make sure you’re copying things right. Or, you can bend light around you. That’s easier, but it creates this kind of blob, like this…” she telekinetically grasped the glass of punch, and wove an invisibility enchantment over it. Octavia could see what she meant – as it moved around under her telekinetic grip, light would visibly bend around it, creating an indistinct, but notable, blur. “That’s good for low-light or if nopony’s really looking, it doesn’t really take anything out of you, right? But then what do you do when it’s bright or you know somepony’s looking for you?” Lulamoon finally set down her cake, but only to wave her hooves over herself, cloaking herself in an invisibly spell, though she did nothing to hide her sound as she trotted along the wall and towards the door, then back. While Octavia could follow Lulamoon by ear, she couldn’t see her, nor any of the tell-tale shift in light that her previous spell had used. Once she was back, Lulamoon made herself visible again. “That spell,” she said, “works by making light just kind of phase through you. It doesn’t interact with you at all, so it goes right on through. Perfect invisibility. Used to be kind of hard on the horn, but I’ve gotten real good at it.” Octavia stared with eyes half-lidded. “That does not answer my question,” she said. Trixie’s smile grew. “You’ll like this,” she insisted. “Basically, I thought to myself, sound has to work the same way, right? I create a sort of ghost-sound shield of what you’re supposed to be hearing, but somepony like you would notice the difference. I can bend sound around me, but that still leaves that humming trick you have. So – and I’ve been working on this for weeks now…” her horn glowed again, and she encased her body in a visible blue glow, before beginning to prance in place. However, no sound came from her, and to Octavia – who hummed out a quick tune, for her own benefit if not Lulamoon’s –noted that, indeed, the acoustics of the room had notably changed, making it seem as though there was only a single occupant inside, rather than two. It was, in short, impossible to locate Lulamoon by sound. Lulamoon settled down from her display, smiling at Octavia as she cancelled her spell. “What do you think?” Octavia stared at Lulamoon. “It works,” she grunted, standing up again and leaving, nothing stopping her now. Trixie watched her go, before sighing a little and tucking into the cake she’d brought up, as well as the punch, which basically served as a light snack in between her bouts of cocktails. “Attente tourmente,” she mourned. On the other hoof, her spell worked. If it could beat Octavia’s hearing, then it would be more than a match for Zizanie’s, she was sure…