//------------------------------//
// IV. Culture, Strength, Politics 
// Story: Untitled Journal in Blueblood's Study 
// by Crowne Prince 
//------------------------------//

The base of Canterlot is a cliff that looks over the river far below. If you go off the beaten path, you'll find a three tiered palace carved into the mountainside.

"I get to live here?"

Wild, untrimmed hedges bordered gardens around the perimeter of the fine estate topped with towers gilded in the purple and gold of the royal family. Stables for private coaches lay beyond a closed double gate on one end of the palace. A side of the gate had become unhinged and hung crookedly. Nearby was a landing strip for pegasi chariots. There was even an airship port at the end of the cliff. The area contained everything a Prince would need to host foreign officials.

My black and white guardian looked over the wonderful, disastrous estate. "Yes, Prince Blueblood. Welcome home."

I barely heard the statement because I was already running down the lane to the mansion. I inherited a mansion. It was any young pony's dream come true. I galloped through the grand entryway and down marble corridors, through the study piled with books beyond my comprehension, and up and down the spiral staircases. My excited exploration stirred up dust and the sheets covering furniture. I peered into the large kitchen and surprised the only chef there before I took off without a word. I trotted around the second floor wrap-around balcony on the outside of my estate and I cantered across the bridge on the inside that overlooked the grand entry room. A remarkable mural featuring the sun embellished the ceiling. Somehow I had missed that detail when I first came in.

Eventually I came back to the foyer, where the tuxedo-coated stallion had been waiting for me. His composure did not break, but a bit of mischief crept into his voice. "I take it a tour of the premises will not be necessary."

"No," I panted.

"Then I shall see you in the morning at breakfast. As you've no doubt seen, we need to discuss staffing for your estate. And do try to make yourself presentable."

I blew a frazzled strand of mane out of my face. "Oh. Uh. Right."





"Nonono! Not that fork!"

Both forks looked exactly the same. The only difference was one was closer to the plate than the other. "Oh for goodness sake Cumber!" I cried. "Is silverware really necessary? Can't I just eat with my hooves - or with my magic for that matter?"

The monochrome pony who had led me to the mansion a few days prior sat back in his chair. "No. The Saddle Arabians have very specific etiquette. If you use your magic you risk offending certain of the upper class."

I jabbed the syrup-laden waffle with the correct fork and attempted to slice it with a knife. My hooves had a hard time holding the accursed utensils.

Cumber sighed and picked up his own fork. "Like this. You are not trying to stab the food, after all." He watched me drop the pronged piece of metal and scramble under the table for it. "Hum. Perhaps waffles was too difficult a first meal," Cumber muttered to himself before speaking loud enough for me to hear underneath the table. "As for the grounds and the staff, your parents left you with a substantial inheritance, but did not cover emergency salaries for any employees save myself and the head chef. You will need to hire more ponies or give me leave to do so in your stead. The current state of your residence is not acceptable, especially not if you are to be entertaining guests."

My understanding of finances was nonexistent at that point. I got back into my chair, fork in hoof, and tried to be civilized. "I trust you to handle it for now. Hire whoever you need."

"Very well. If you could sign this, then." Cumber produced a tray containing a document and some items I did not recognize. He brought it to my side of the table. "It needs the royal seal as well." Cumber flicked a small metal bowl on the tray with his hoof. A flame sprouted up underneath and melted the wax inside. Next to it was a signet ring.

I signed and stamped the release. Cumber rolled it up and returned everything to the tray. "Now, if you would be so kind as to excuse me, I have much to do to return your home to its former glory."

I waited for Cumber to leave, but he stood there with his head lowered respectfully.

"Your highness, I cannot leave without your permission."

"Oh! Er, you may go."

Cumber bowed his way out of the room, taking the tray with him.





The Captain of the Guard eyed me up and down and saw a weak, inexperienced young pony. "Are you certain you are up for this job?" he asked.

I shifted my hooves in the dirt and watched them push the loose soil around. The Captain harrumphed.

"Look at me when I speak to you. Maybe at your fancy mansion you get special treatment, but here you are an untrained initiate no different from the others."

I met his battle-hardened gaze. It hurt. "Yes sir."

"Better, but needs some work. Follow me, recruit. Now, despite what I stated about treatment, as the key defense of our Great Princess Celestia it is imperative you have the combat skills to act as such. Therefore I will push you to the limits of your ability every session. Most days this training will be private." The Captain rounded a corner of the building and dragged a hoof along the bottom edge of the wall as he did so. The stones in the alcove he was facing slid away, revealing a downward staircase.

We made our way down and the stones to the entryway closed behind us. The Captain's horn lit the way. "The first thing to know about all of the guards is that none of us are who we appear to be. If you've ever wondered why all guards look the same and why they're all stallions, it's a glamour spell. An illusion. Mystery solved."

The stairs ended at a sparse training room walled in on every side by gray stone. The Captain lit the magic sconces along the perimeter of the room while he explained that even with the glamour, every pony had at least one "tell" that gave away who was who. Tells ranged from the pitch of the voice to tokens worn on the body to the way a pony flipped an ear or tilted their head before speaking.

"Now fight!" the Captain shouted.

"Wait what?" I managed to yelp before a strike to my side sent me sprawling across the room. Strands of my mane tangled and covered my eyes. In alarm I noticed blue-on-blue, exactly the color of a unicorn guard. At some point the illusion spell had taken hold on me too.

The Captain stood in the center of the room, sturdy as the stones all around us. "Lesson one. A single surprise attack is all it takes to win - or lose, in your case. Now I'll show you how to don that set of armor behind you, unless you wish to leave here black and blue."

Military training involved me getting beat up. For a time, anyway.





After being whacked with weapons and Magick’s hairsticks and forced to wear outfits of every culture known to ponykind, the Headmistress sent me to the Canterlot archives to stand in front of the history section for an indefinite period of time.

I tried not to fiddle with the blue tie strangling my neck. Cumber wouldn't let me out of the mansion without at least a bowtie on, which resulted in interesting problems when I had combat training with the Royal Guard. At least I was presentable enough to be in public now, though apparently not enough to stay out for long without an escort who pushed me away from any casual conversation with passersby.

The chance to be alone today was a rare treat.

I did not wait long in front of my shelf before a mare entered the large room, spotted me, and strode (or perhaps glided is a better word) toward me with a purpose. Her movements were graceful and smooth, much like the long sweeping flows of her mane. I recognized something about her but could not put my hoof on it.

The mare gave a short bow that indicated she knew who I was. "You must be Prince Blueblood."

"Yep, that's me."

A laugh lit up my new instructor's eyes, but she made no sound. My uncouth, unprincely speech amused her. Well, soon enough Cumber and Magick would beat it out of me. I consciously made an effort to be more eloquent: "Pardon my asking, but you seem familiar even though I'm certain we have not met."

"You must be thinking of my daughter, Fleur de Lis. You attended school together years ago. She's since taken an interest in modeling - I suppose with how distant you've become as of late it is not surprising you did not know." Fleur's mother smiled and her eyes glittered through a pair of designer eyeglasses. "I am told that unlike my daughter, you do not need to discover the appreciation of finer things, but rather the turbulent underside of that world."

Politics.

The Lady de Lis turned her gaze to the rows of books behind me. "So, if you please, we will begin with history. You shall need to know the prominent noble families to start, the relationships we have with other nations, lesser known historical events that still ring bitter in the minds of some, and so forth.” 

The mare pulled a tome from one of the shelves with her magic. "Tell me, have you heard the legend of the Mare in the Moon?"





Yes, the old pony tales have a basis in reality – a stronger one than I suspected. No, earth ponies do not lack magic. Yes, we had centuries of peace and prosperity, but that happens when your enemies realize you are so terrifying that you would not stop at banishing your own kin for a thousand years.

This was a realm of knowledge far outside what I learned in school, where things were the opposite of what I expected or more complex than I’d been taught. On any given day Magick could show up to one of my lessons with a parasprite, with a chicken warped into a cockatrice by dark magic, with a manticore. She spoke of things imprisoned in the stars, unicorns with whiplike tails, and lands far beyond Equestria. I thought it not possible, but eventually surprises simply ceased to surprise me. I was desensitized to them.

The floor still hurt, though.

The Captain of the Guard growled at me while he pressed his hoof into my shoulder plate and pushed me into the flagstones. “Is that it, little horsey? Weeks of training, and here you are, dead under the hooves of some traitorous scum, hidden in an underground cavern where nopony will ever find you. ‘Didn’t even put up a fight,’ they’d say. ‘Didn’t even–’”

“RRRaahhh!” I tore the weapon rack from the wall with magic and crashed it into the Captain of the Guard. The wood and weapons bounced off a shield he threw up and clattered to the floor. I was still trapped under the Captain’s hooves. I was too small to toss him off myself.

“Hah,” the Captain laughed. “Gonna have to do better than that. Whoa!”

I’d managed to wrap a tendril of magic around my captor’s back leg and pull it out from under him. I rolled out of the way and leapt to my feet, bringing a fallen sword from one end of the room into my hoof. Good thing, too, because the Captain was already there. Steel clashed on steel. The blades locked together.

“Still not strong enough to levitate that blade with staying power, I see. The trouble is, as a young unicorn you are no match for brute strength. And there will always be someone stronger than you.” The leader of the Royal Guard was pushing my blade back toward my body. I couldn't hold him back.

The Captain’s horn glowed and a slice of air cut the space behind me. He hooked the blade in his hoof under mine and flung my weapon from my grasp. My front had never been his target. I understood that as I noticed the weight missing from my tail. He’d cropped it. The second sword he’d used to hit me from behind floated into view.

“Let that be a lesson to you. Watch your back, and learn to use your horn. You’re at a disadvantage if you don’t.” The Captain picked up the weapon rack and started putting items back in order. “Catch your breath and I’ll show you how to put up a shield. You’re still not ready for strong offensive magic. After this lesson I expect to see you topside sparring with the newer recruits.”





The Lady de Lis took me to a chariot salesyard, of all places. We’d been to ballrooms and galleries and Canterlot city hall. I wondered what we were doing here. There was not much time to wonder before one of the salesponies was on us. He was brimming with energy. “Have you been helped yet?”

De Lis shook her head. “No, don’t worry about us. We’re not interested in buying. I’m here to show my apprentice how a sales place operates.”

The salespony found this a strange statement. He looked the mare over and saw a well-dressed, ladylike equine who was gentle and posed no threat.

Fool. 

“In that case, if you need anything do not hesitate to ask.” The pony went over to a customer browsing, a more likely target for a sale.

“If we are not careful we will attract more of them,” De Lis said. “Now,  we are going to pretend to be observing our general surroundings but actually be listening in on these ponies’ conversations. Or, as one would say, we are going to eavesdrop. Of course the trick is not to get caught. In the event you are caught, well, that is when you improvise depending on the circumstances.”

The Lady conjured a mirror and brush and did a convincing act of adjusting her mane. I only knew she was pretending because of what she had just said.

If I did the same thing it would have been obvious something was amiss. Because I was young enough to pass off as my mentor’s son, I had a free pass. I sat on the ground and acted vaguely interested in my surroundings while I waited for my mom to finish what she was doing. We’d be okay in this spot for a few minutes and then we would need to move.

De Lis said, “Tell me about the conversation over there.”

“The sales pony is complimenting the customer, saying he did the research on the carriages and picked one that has a solid build but is still lightweight. The customer has a good eye. That sort of thing.”

“Does that seem odd to you?”

“No.”

“Ah, but it is. Speech is manipulative. Has he said the customer’s name at least once?”

“Yes.”

“That’s another sign the sales pony is trying to up the potential buyer’s ego and make him feel confident about purchasing. See, a good politician is wise to that game. Baseless flattery will get you nowhere. Any time somepony speaks to you in the sneaky way a salespony does, that should be a red flag. They are likely trying to convince you to do something you might not otherwise agree to.”

The two of us moved through the carriages like spies, careful to avoid the line-of-sight of any salespony. The Lady de Lis found a good spot to the side of one of the vehicles where we could stay undetected. “Prince, I’d like you to observe these conversations for a little while today. Carriage salesponies are extremely good at pressuring customers into a sale and knowing when to offer more incentives to make them purchase something. It is worthwhile to learn those tactics to recognize when they are being used against you. I would not suggest copying them directly, though, because after today it will be obvious when someone is trying to manipulate or bribe you. Subtlety is key.”

Subtle the salesponies were not. Then again, everyone expected them to bend backwards to sell carriages. That was their job. It was trickier to pinpoint a manipulative pony when you did not know their motive. Verbal traps are easy to spot when you know what your adversary’s ultimate goal is.

So what happens when you yourself do not know what your goal is? Here I was, learning combat and manipulation and culture and magic, but with no purpose. Why did I need to know any of this? What was I supposed to be doing?