//------------------------------// // Ch. 3 - Food for Thought // Story: The Traveling Tutor and the Diplomats Daughter // by Georg //------------------------------// The Traveling Tutor and the Diplomat’s Daughter Food for Thought Eat, Drink, and Be Merry, for Tomorrow We Die(t) — Watchers of Weight The eager griffon fledgeling was all eyes as she and her two companions were escorted through the castle corridors into the Residence Quarter. The Misty Mountains Airie was well over three centuries old, with trophies and tapestries adorned with precious stones in the fashion of the griffon empire, of which the Misty Mountain tribes were only a small portion. The Equestrian empire was well over a thousand years old, with many, many times the population and a sense of fashion⁽*⁾ that the griffons could only aspire towards. (*) Griffons had a fashion sense very similar to magpies, in their preference for bright colors and sparkly objects, as well as a relative lack of respect for other’s property. — Ancient Aegean pottery displayed on plinths offset busts of important ponies from ancient ages, as well as priceless paintings of every style imaginable tastefully arranged on every wall among the soaring arches and delicate filigree that generations of pony artisans had spent decorating the residence of their beloved Princess. It was all so beautiful and familiar to Green Grass as the three of them were escorted along, that he missed something his little fledgeling friend spotted almost immediately. “Hey, mithter,” lisped Sunny, using her big yellow eyes on the tutor, which probably would have worked better if she had not tried using the fake lisp too. “Where are the pithchurs of Celestia?” “I would think Princess Celestia knows what she looks like,” said Green Grass cautiously while looking around and confirming Sunny’s observation. His relatively few visits to this section of the castle to date had been in the presence of Twilight Sparkle, and for some reason he had not been paying nearly as much attention to his surroundings then. “Maybe she just doesn’t like having herself painted.” Friday cleared his throat unnecessarily. “There are a great number of paintings, sculpture and other artistic endeavors across the years dedicated to Her Highness presently displayed for the public in the Sunrise Gallery on a rotating basis. I understand a guided tour can take the entire day.” “Really?” Green Grass perked up at the thought. “I should take Twilight when she gets back.” “I wouldn’t advise it, sir.” Not getting any response from the lovestruck young tutor, Friday continued, “Hours of walking. Ten centuries of paintings. Princess Celestia in all poses. Reclining. Standing. All around you. Looking at you.” “Oh. It can’t really be that bad, can it?” “The prime mural in their collection is entitled ‘Celestia Among The Flowers.’ Her Highness is portrayed reclining in a field among a large collection of foals of all ages and genders, embracing them affectionately.” “That doesn’t sound too— how affectionately?” With no response from Friday other than a faint twitch down one flank, Green Grass rather weakly sighed, “Oh. Perhaps the Royal Observatory, then.” “I shall endeavor to procure a reservation for tomorrow evening, sir.” Sunny blew a raspberry at her two stodgy old pony escorts. “Who wants to look at dumb old stars anyway? Grandpa says they’re just placeholders until the sun comes back up.” Green Grass bit back his first three rejoinders, settling on, “This would be your grandfather, Wingmaster Talon of the Misty Mountains, who presently is in negotiations with Princess Luna over ownership of the newly reappeared Crystal Empire by the Crystal Mountain range. I certainly hope he keeps that particular pithy observation to himself while speaking with Her Highness, Princess Luna, Guardian of the Ebon Veil and Matron of the Moon and Stars.” Sunny glanced up at the tutor at the change in his voice. “Father always said grandfather was a bit direct.” “Being direct when you are being honest is a good thing. Being direct when you know it will hurt somepony is not always good.” “So how can you tell the difference?” Green Grass hesitated long enough in his response for Friday to thankfully intercede. “Experience, young miss. Regrettably, there is little that can be taught in that regard. The young are forced to muddle through those decisions on their own.” “True,” said Green Grass. “But we young muddlers always have older and wiser minds to help, if we only ask.” * * * In the Residence Quarter of the castle quite near the Solarium, there was a very small private dining room used only by the Royal Sisters for the rare evening dinners when they happened to be free from their royal obligations. Originally quite small and only able to fit one, when one alicorn was all who would be attending dinner anyway, it had been rather rapidly remodeled when Princess Cadence had been discovered. A few years later when Princess Luna had made her appearance, the castle staff had carried out a second renovation, only this time it had been expanded out to be able to seat four with a small attached kitchenette. No explanation of the alteration had been forthcoming from the castle staff, or requested by any of Her Royal Highnesses, but a fourth set of blank plates and silverware had been stored in the china hutch, just in case. In case, turned out to be now. Celestia was still levitating plates out onto what an alicorn would consider a ‘small’ table when Princess Sunny and her escorts arrived, being abandoned by their armored guardians outside the door and forced to walk into the small dining room by themselves. “Princess Sun Shines!” exclaimed Princess Celestia with a happy smile. “Come in, come in. I’m almost done setting the table. Greenie, would you be a dear and get out the silverware while Friday helps out in the kitchen with the salad?” Green Grass was almost positive that Princess Celestia, Diarch of Equestria, had carefully arranged the timing of their arrival to correspond with this exact stage of table-setting for whatever reason she may have planned, but in order not to break his role in her carefully stage-managed production of royal domesticity, he opened the silverware hutch and began laying out forks and spoons just as he was expected. “Come over here, Princess Sun Shines, and we’ll get some cushions for the chair so you can reach the table. I’ve been so looking forward to meeting you. I swear, the pictures your father showed me just don’t do you justice. You’ve grown so much.” “Daddy talks about me?” Sunny hopped up on the chair the Princess indicated and rearranged the cushions for easy access to her plate. “Only all the time! Why, just this morning, he…” Green Grass nodded along as the dinner progressed, settling into his comfortable role of conversational foil as the two Princesses chattered away. It was both frightening and pleasurable to realize that slightly more than a year ago, he had such a bad case of SERS⁽¹⁾ that he had only been able to talk with Her Highness with a bucket over his head. Several private meetings had been organized by Twilight Sparkle since then to take the razor edge off his fear, and eventually the sharp point, until all he had left now was a deep and substantial respect for Princess Celestia. (1) Sudden Exposure to Royalty Syndrome, a condition in which the common pony may exhibit hyperventilation, panic attacks, babbling, or fainting spells⁽²⁾ when abruptly exposed to a Princess at close range. Not a modern phenomena, as it dated back to ancient days and heralded the development of the Royal Herald, the Royal Tea Party, and the Newspaper Scandal Sheet as treatments to reduce the symptoms by both warning and previous exposure, much like vaccination. In Green Grass’ case, he had been ‘vaccinated’ enough for a trip to Zebrica. (2) In Green Grass’ case, all four symptoms at once. — Her sister was quite different. Finding out that Princess Luna regarded him as both a pony with useful historical knowledge, and as a possibly suitable suitor for Twilight was interesting, to say the least, and turned out to be less frightening that he would have guessed to have her trot into the middle of his dreams with a list of questions every few nights. Weird, but not frightening, at least after the first few times. He made no pretensions about understanding the ways of mares, and that went double for Twilight, and triple for Princess Celestia. Luna was mind-twistingly difficult to understand at all, but he was learning. All those happy thoughts vanished when the servant placed the first hors d'oeuvre in front of his plate. The anxiety he had been suppressing all day flooded back into his mind, tying his gut back up in knots and raising the taste of acid in the back of his throat. Whatever Twilight and her friends were doing in that city in the Crystal Empire was most certainly dangerous, from the colorful lights in the northern sky that had broken out this afternoon. Trying not to worry about the sudden light display had made him concentrate on the little grifflet’s educational odyssey in sign-making and pony observational psychology to the exclusion of all else, until he saw food. All the tension rushed back into the muscles of his stomach, and suddenly the bruschetta he had just been about to bite felt as if it was going to bite back with sharp fangs. “By the way, Lord Green Grass,” said Celestia in a lilting voice that cut through his depression like a knife. “I’m quite pleased to tell you I’ve received a letter from Twilight Sparkle. She has successfully completed her project in the Crystal Empire and should be back in Canterlot by tomorrow evening. She specifically mentioned that I should pass the word on to you, but things have been so hectic around the castle today.” “That’s wonderful, Your High—” Her soft words took a few moments to soak into his stressed mind, but when they did, Green Grass looked up at the smiling Princess Celestia with a sudden urge to ask just when she had received Twilight’s letter, and just why he had not been informed at that time. Said urge was rather rapidly beaten into submission before being thrown into a mental vault with a great number of other beaten and bloody urges which had been properly admonished in the past, while Green Grass composed his features for Sunny. After all, his and Friday’s role in this evening’s production was that of stage crew, not actors. The rumble in his relieved tummy cued him to restrict his response to a thankful smile and a nod to Celestia, who certainly must have shared his apprehension over Twilight’s activities, and was tucking into her appetizers as if she shared his relief. Taking a crunchy bite of the delicious bruschetta and washing it down with what he quickly realized was grape juice, not wine, he welcomed the return of his absent appetite even as he resumed his own proper place in the evening meal. It took only a few sentences to detect the conversational pattern and fade into the background noises of the delicious dinner. “Yes, Your Highness.” “Of course, Your Highness.” “Quite correct, Your Highness.” “That’s a fish?” The rhythm of responses⁽³⁾ he had been happily working his way through was knocked terribly off-kilter by the sudden appearance of what most certainly looked like a dead fish, even if it had been disguised by a greenish sauce quite close in color to his own coat. Admittedly the plate had been placed in front of Sunny, who was barely restraining herself from diving into it beak-first, but it still was a fish, quite dead, and laying there on the plate. Dead. And being a fish. And dead. (3) Pleasant’s Rules for Pleasant Conversations, Chapter 12 - Informal Dinners. Twilight had made him study it extensively after their first social outing, and after three tests he finally passed her examination, thereby earning a reward that was not covered in the book. — Nonplussed, the waiter continued placing plates on the table with a quiet, “Yes, sir. A truite au bleu, chilled poached trout in court bouillon with vinegar, lemon, carrot, celery and onion, garnished with sea salt and black peppercorns. The topping is fresh dill cream, sauteed shallots in butter and deglazed with a fine year of Trottontés wine and pureed with cream and dill fresh from the gardens. Would m’lord care for a portion? There is still a second trout in the kitchen, and Chef Sizzler would be more than pleased to prepare it for you. Admittedly your grilled tofu has the same topping and preparation, but some diners prefer the natural taste of—” “No! I mean, no thank you, sir.” Green Grass swallowed hard and regarded his own dish, which did indeed have the distinguishing characteristics of properly prepared tofu, i.e. no eyes looking up, no scales, no tails, and no other fishy attributes. He had just picked up his fork and was prepared to poke it into his own non-fish dish when Sunny cheerfully chirped, “Did you want a bite? I mean, it’s proper etiquette for Griffons to let the eldest have the first bite of a kill.” “Oh, no. No, no, no. I couldn’t possibly—” Green Grass caught the benevolent expression on Princess Celestia’s face, which was as unguarded as he had ever seen the immortal alicorn. It became suddenly easy to envision a long procession of ancient royal rulers being brought under a warm and affectionate wing at a quiet dinner table early in their youthful lives, and forever more thinking of the mighty Princess Celestia as that large, loving alicorn who was more than happy to help trim the crusts off their bread and pull the seeds out of grapes for them while they were perched on a tall cushion by her feathered side. And then many years later, the hapless confused ruler would be trying to reconcile the real Royal Princess of Equestria standing with them over the negotiation table against their first childhood memories of her dabbing their lips with a napkin at the dinner table. Sunny would not remain a griffon chick for many more years. Eventually, if she did not die from the myrid reasons that gave griffons such short life expectancies, she would become Wingmaster of the Misty Mountain Aerie, undisputed master of nearly a hundred adult griffons. She would visit other kingdoms, and have other discussions, but she would never again be a young fledgeling having the undivided attention of Princess Celestia at her wingtips. All she would have from this night were memories, so they should be good ones. “—override protocol. After all, Princess Celestia is the eldest here and should have the first bite.” Green Grass leaned back in his chair with a warm smile on his face, which cooled as Celestia nodded enthusiastically and produced a fork. “Capital idea, Greenie. May I?” With a nod from Sunny, Celestia scooped up a good forkful of trout and chewed with a blissful expression. “Oh, c'est magnifique. It reminds me so much of my first trip to the Griffon Empire when I met Grand Wingmaster Eile. They tried so hard to make everything under the sun for dinner, and I thought I would just burst. I’m afraid I had to turn down the Lapin Rôti à l'Origan though. I just couldn’t think of eating a bunny.” “Yes, Your Highness,” echoed Green Grass, feeling a teensy bit disconnected from the world. “I couldn’t either.” “Just where are my manners? Sunny, would it be all right for Greenie to have a taste too? After all, he has often remarked about just how many new and exciting things Twilight has shown him. It would be only fair for him to enjoy this too.” With a sudden Celestia-driven golden glow around them, both his and Friday’s forks swooped over to the dead fish, picked up a substantial portion, and returned to their owner’s plates. While Green Grass stared in rapt fascinated horror at the hovering fork, he heard chewing coming from Friday’s direction, followed by a swallowing noise and a delighted, “Ahhh. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything like this, Your Highness.” Leaving Green Grass to stare at the dead fish. Well, the small sauce-covered chunk of dead fish hovering in front of his nose. There was a technique he had used on his parents when faced with distasteful vegetables involving small bites and a large napkin, but with the full knowledge that attempting the same stunt with Princess Celestia would be futile, he leaned forward. Opened his mouth, while trying not to think of fish. Bit down, while trying not to think of fish. Chewed, while trying not to think of fish. And swallowed, while trying really hard not to think of fish swimming upstream. After a quick gulp of grape juice, he speared a piece of tofu and repeated the same process, with less trepidation, and less thought of fish. “It’s… different. I think I prefer my tofu, Your Highnesses.” “More for me.” The little griffon dove into her fish with only minimal attention to knife and fork, but when Green Grass looked away from the carnage, he caught a glimpse of Celestia’s face that made him reevaluate his previous thoughts. As the rest of the courses were served, he began to watch Celestia while mulling over changes to his theory. There was a certain subdued maternal glow to her whole expression throughout dinner, as if for just a few minutes she could once again be transported back in time to when she was just a young filly, being attended to by a pair of loving parents. He really could not blame her for the self-delusion, as it would have been almost impossible for her to either bear or adopt a child without the little one being subjected to the corrosive effects of Equestrian politics from their first breath. With that in mind, there was no record of her having children of her own, even after he had checked many historical records with his own eyes, but she had indeed been ‘close’ with several stallions throughout the centuries, as well as possibly a mare or two. Very few words had been written down, but in context, she had been anything but unloved. Long nighttime conversations with Twilight Sparkle while stargazing had made him realize many things. For one, the ponies who had attempted to suborn his own attentions to gain influence with Baron Chrysanthemum, his father, were rank amateurs. Their attempts seemed so childish now, when compared with the intricate plots Twilight could talk about for hours about ponies attempting to get a hoofs-up to the Princess’ ear. Fortunately, he had not been exposed to many of their ‘professional’ attempts yet, but as Twilight and himself grew nearer to making their difficult decision to join their lives, it was inevitable he would be dragged into the corrosive politics with which she had become so familiar. It was yet another reason the engagement ring he had purchased last month had remained inside his jacket pocket instead of being placed onto its proper place, on the horn of the most beautiful — he shook his head and tried to focus on the dinner. Princess Celestia had favored him with a quelling glance, a very subtle hint that his concentration and conversation had begun to waver once he had begun thinking of Twilight. Celestia was much more subtle than her sister, whose idea of the proper way to wake up an inattentive subject shaded more to the vivid intrusive daydream and tended to trigger SERS attacks among certain green-coated earth ponies. It was regrettable that Luna had very little written about her that history had not flavored excessively, garnished with lies and fantasy, and topped with brilliant short stories that pretended to great age, even though they were written on new paper in the style of modern newspaper reporters. Their words were nearly all fake as artificial sweeteners or white chocolate, as well as most probably influenced by modern mare’s ideas of what a weak, tearful, and delicate creature of frail constitution she would be after having been imprisoned in the moon for uncounted years and thrust into a world she could not comprehend. The newspaper reporters did not understand Luna at all. Green Grass did not pretend to understand the Princess of the Night fully, but he had a bone-deep and quite sincere respect for her, borne by the heartfelt desire never to get cross-ways with any of her affectionate pranks on Celestia, or even the little things she had begun to do to Twilight Sparkle that Green Grass had patiently explained were not based in minor malice, but an acceptance of Twilight as an equal. For his own part, Green Grass was quite comfortable being a lesser being, unworthy of a genius Princess with all the resources of Equestria behind her ‘blessing’ him with one of her pranks, most of which seemed to employ food items. Until he realized just how few ‘lesser beings’ had ever sat at Celestia’s dinner table once, let alone the half-dozen experiences he had so far. He felt subjected to a mixed blessing. While the waiter was clearing away the cheese plates in preparation for bringing out what had been announced as a Crystal Berry Sorbet for dessert, the door to the dining area slammed open with a horrible crash, and Princess Luna stalked into the tiny dining room. There was a single-minded determination he had never seen in the royal alicorn as she strode to the table, picking up a loaf of bread from the middle and tearing it in half lengthwise with a subdued feral growl. Wordlessly, she upended the jam bowl over the rended bread, allowing the entire rainbow-colored contents to plop down and spreading it from loaf end to loaf end with her magic before taking a massive smeary bite out of one end. Luna’s negotiations with the griffon ambassadors must be going poorly. “Princess Luna,” announced Celestia as if nothing at all was amiss. “We have guests at our table tonight.” Luna took a second huge bite from the bread with a growl as she turned. Her gaze crossed Green Grass, resulting in a stifled grunt of recognition, but she promptly did a very satisfying double-take as she spotted the nervous griflet sitting to his side. “Bg prdn,” mumbled Luna with a short nod of her head, a small rainbow-colored drip of jam falling from the corner of her mouth on its way to the spotless dining room floor before being captured by the princess’ magic and returned to the bread. Sunny’s nervousness vanished with the sudden alertness of a small child who sees a loophole in a hated restriction. “I thought it was a rule that you weren’t supposed to talk with your mouth full?” It was a testament to just how experienced Green Grass had gotten with the reactions of Equestria’s Princesses that he managed to catch the momentary tightening of the eyes that signified more well-suppressed anger in Luna’s already angry face. After an astonishingly short period of silent chewing, Luna dabbed her lips with a napkin in a slow motion of divine grace, before sweeping down into a fully wing-spread bow of considerable depth, indicating far more respect than he ever expected her to give a small griffon who had to sit on a cushion so she could reach the table, even if that small griffon happened to call herself royalty. “We most humbly beg thy pardon, Your Highness,” screeched and chirped Luna in the most perfect Griffon that Green Grass had ever heard spoken by a pony other than by his brother Graphite⁽⁴⁾. “We were distracted by events of the Day. In addition, We did not greet thee properly upon thy arrival at Our table. We humbly request thy forgiveness for Our transgressions against protocol.” (4) Green Grass’ brother Graphite had a special talent for languages. To his eternal embarrassment, his little brother liked referring to ‘Big Brother Graphite’ as an exceptionally cunning linguist. — “Uh. That’s okay,” stammered Sunny, wide-eyed and stunned at the sudden reversal of Princess Luna’s demeanor. “Grandpa says it’s important to forgive one’s subjects when they speak out of turn.” A certain icy chill spread through the dining room as Luna straightened up, her eyes narrowed to slits. “Your ancestor’s opinions…” The air felt even colder as the Lunar Diarch trailed off and stared at the fledgeling, who cocked her head in the youthful curiosity of one who does not know the danger they faced. Before Sunny could say something disastrous, Green Grass patted her on the foreclaw and chuckled. “I’ll bet Princess Celestia could tell you all kinds of stories about when your grandfather was your age, Sunny. Embarrassing stories that he probably hasn’t told you. Isn’t that right, Princess Celestia.” “Several,” said Celestia, taking a breath and smiling at the fledgeling who had turned to look up at her with an awestruck gaze. “He really was quite a little scamp.” “Would you care to join us, Princess Luna?” asked Green Grass, getting up off his chair and pulling it back. He knew what the answer would be, having spotted Luna’s Hoofmaiden slipping out of the kitchenette, a covered tray on her back balanced across dragon-like wings as she headed for the open dining room door. Nocturne mares had almost never been seen in public before Luna’s return, but recently they had been emerging from the shadows, so to speak. As an amateur historian, the clannish bat-winged pegasi intrigued him with their origin in Luna’s downfall even as they frightened him somewhat for the same reason. To be honest, most of his limited information had come from Twilight’s stories about two of the Nocturne who had been briefly sent to Ponyville, making him very glad to have been absent from town for that month⁽⁵⁾. Now, not only was Luna’s dinner-delivering Hoofmaiden a Nocturne, but he had heard several stories about Nocturne mares joining the castle staff, including even applying for the Royal Guard, making repercussions he would be glad to observe at a safe distance. (5) These events were covered in Genealogy (or the mating habits of Nocturnes Pegasi) — “No,” said Princess Luna calmly as the tranquil mask once again slipped over her royal features, with only a distinct roiling in her ethereal mane showing her true emotions. “I shall withdraw for the evening to the Observatory Tower. Spring shedding season is making me short-tempered, and I need to be properly groomed for tomorrow. Good evening, sister. Princess. Honored guests.” With the bread floating beside her and a flick of her tail, Princess Luna trotted regally out the door, closing it behind her without the slightest noise. * * * To Green Grass’ relief, the dessert course went without complication. Unfortunately, the complication was served at the post-dessert course discussion, as a dessert to dessert. And it turned out to be something Green Grass had never thought would ever touch his lips. “You’ve never been taught how to preen?” asked Princess Celestia, with a final lick to her spoon and mournful consideration of her very empty dessert bowl. Green Grass’ attention perked up at the remark and tracked the conversation back through its salient points: Sunny losing her mother fairly close to being hatched, losing her older sister last year to a freak downdraft in the mountains, the loneliness of being a princess with a non-royal father who was busy so much of the time. The griffon fledgeling drooped and put a spoonful of the sorbet back into her nearly-empty bowl. “No, I never learned. Daddy doesn’t think it’s proper for him to preen royalty, and Aunt Gilda is always so busy. I let the servants do it, but they aren’t very good.” Celestia clucked her tongue in disapproval. “Sunny, preening isn’t something that comes naturally to earth ponies, even servants who have been around griffons their whole lives. You will need to teach them how to do a proper job, and since you don’t know how—” Princess Celestia looked around the table, her sparkling eyes looking right at Green Grass “—I’ll just have to teach you myself, and then you can teach your earth pony servants when you get home. Now where can we find an earth pony to assist?”