Prince Blueblood cursed and threw down that morning’s Manehattan Telegraph. Nothing on the royal scandal on the front page! The papers had instead decided to go mad about some Diamond Dog disturbance in the Crystal Empire! Why should anyone care about a band of savages doing what savages did in that utterly backward, frigid province?!
His horn glowed and his radio switched on. He listened for a few minutes, hopping between stations. Nothing! Just two-bit pundits sensationalising this nonsense in the north! Only a scant few references to the scandal, and not even a mention of his press conference at lunch today!
As his wounded ego seethed at the lack of recognition, the rational part of him worried. This Diamond Dog raid could not have come at a worse time. True, the Crystal Empire was hundreds of miles to the north, but it had suddenly given relevance to the plans for an army. Farmers would be beginning to worry about the safety of their own farms, and the nobility, who had opposed the creation of a Royal Army as an increase in royal power at the expense of their own, suddenly found themselves worrying about the security of their lands and estates.
Fuming, Blueblood stared around his study. He’d set up everything perfectly, as well. The leak of Celestia’s orders to Amber Spyglass had been a nice surprise, but Newsprint had considered it all his Hearth’s Warmings come at once when Blueblood had quietly delivered to him the draft budget plan. He would let scandal and outrage reign for a couple of days, and then he would step forward with his press announcement. And it was all ruined!
Breathing heavily, he composed himself and began to rationalise. He had sent out invitations to all the major news outlets yesterday, so now he had no choice but to go through with this press conference. His announcement today would be momentous, perhaps enough to distract everyone from this Diamond Dog raid and swing their attention back to the scandal. And even if this unfortunate raid made an army look necessary, well, he could still rail against Celestia’s arbitrary decisions...
***
Sixteen reporters waited for him as he descended the steps of his mansion. A storm of flashbulbs met him, as well as a fusillade of questions.
“Your Highness, over here!”
“Your Highness, how do you respond to Filthy Rich’s allegations of insider trading?”
“Your Highness, does this concern the harassment allegations made against you after the last Grand Galloping Gala?”
“Your Highness, do you have anything to say concerning the current ‘Armygate’ scandal?”
“Your Highness, as Minister for Industry and Mining, do you think this latest raid will affect commodity prices?”
Blueblood ascended the podium at the foot of the steps. It was a glorious mid-March day, the air cool and not a cloud in the brilliant blue sky. A fitting backdrop for his momentous announcements.
“Mares, gentlestallions, please,” he said into the cluster of microphones clipped to the podium. “Before we begin, I would like to thank you all for coming.”
No pony reacted to the utter insincerity of his opening.
“Over the past week, a handful of brave whistleblowers in our government ministries have revealed to the ponies of Equestria the corruption of our government.”
The ears of the reporters pricked up. Now this was interesting...
“Public confidence in Their Highnesses’ Government is in tatters, as is confidence in Their Highnesses themselves, all because of this arbitrary exercise of power by the Princesses. And now, this lack of regard for the democratic wises of the ponies, and for checks and balances, has brought our realm to the very brink of war!”
The reporters stared at him in rapt attention.
“It is my shame, my friends that I knew of such abuses of power for years before today yet I chose not to speak. Like many ponies, I believed that the absolute rule of Princess Celestia was simply how we should be governed. And yet, after the return of Princess Luna, things slowly became clear to me.
“Two years ago, Princess Celestia restored to the Privy Council her sister, Princess Luna. Not even a week before, Princess Luna had been Nightmare Moon, a demon intent on smothering Equus in eternal night! Questions were raised in Parliament. There was even dissent in the Privy Council. Yet Celestia refused to listen and restored her sister regardless.
“Six months later, Equestria faced perhaps the greatest crisis in its history. The demon Discord, sealed in stone for a thousand years, returned, and for days wreaked havoc. Only later did we learn the true scale of royal mismanagement that occurred in these days. Firstly, Celestia had kept the imprisoned Discord not locked safely away where no pony could disturb him, but as a statue in the palace grounds! Where, if rumour is to be believed, he was so insecure it took only a fillies’ quarrel to release him!
“After Discord’s escape, Celestia did not recall Parliament. The Privy Council was not in Canterlot at the time. No warning was even delivered to the populace. Instead she chose to use the Elements of Harmony to contain him. The Elements of Harmony, the most powerful magical artefacts ever created, were used on the whim of one pony, without Parliamentary authorisation, while ordinary ponies cowered at home, terrified and uninformed, and when their potential effect was utterly unclear! We should count ourselves lucky to still be here today! And when Discord was finally imprisoned again, where did she put him? Why, back where he’d been for the past thousand years, as a piece of interesting statuary!”
The reporters stared at Blueblood. Some scribbled notes, but most stared, their mouths agape. No pony had every uttered such disparaging remarks at the Princesses in public before, much less to reporters, and much less the Heir to the Throne!
“Discord reared his head again nearly a year later,” continued Blueblood. “Only this time, instead of breaking free, he was released by Princess Celestia, who apparently wanted his magic for some ill-defined purpose that remains unclear! Again, this was done without consulting Parliament or the Privy Council, despite the immense risks it posed to the realm!
“Last summer, we saw the results of a shocking abuse of royal patronage. I had long expressed concern in the Privy Council, as had MPs like Radical Road in Parliament, over Princess Celestia’s relationship with Twilight Sparkle, her “most faithful student”. For a while it seemed to many of us that Celestia was relying more on Twilight as an advisor and confidante than she was her elected institutions. And then, just like that, we had a new Princess! No discussions in Council, just another addition to the Civil Lists on Celestia’s whim! By the time the vote in Parliament came around, there was no point resisting: it was clear that ‘Princess Twilight’ was a done deal.”
Blueblood cast his eyes over his shocked audience, his face grave. “My friends, as I said, I am ashamed to say that I knew of these abuses, yet I could not speak out. The Great Charter forbids Councilponies from breaking confidence. When a decision is made in Council, usually by Celestia, we have no choice but to stand by it. For many years I laboured under the delusion that I could best help the ponies of Equestria from the inside. Now I see the error of my ways. When the proposal for an army was brought before the Council, I pleaded with Celestia not to take an action that would lead us to war. She refused, and knowing how the ordinary ponies of Equestria would react to her plans, she plotted to sneak it through without a vote in Parliament. It is only thanks to the principled ponies that risked their careers to leak this information that we know of her plans, and of the shameless lengths she will go to win the vote on the budget.”
It was all Blueblood could do to stop a faint smile playing on his lips as his stunned audience stared up at him. Now came his clarion call that would shake every layer of Equestrian governance.
“My friends, today’s news of a Diamond Dog raid on the Crystal Empire may change someponies’ minds about the need for an army. Nevertheless, the means through which Celestia sought to create one are indefensible, together with all her other abuses of power and disregard of democracy over the past two years. I can no longer support her, and based on this, I am announcing my resignation as Minister of Industry and Mining, and my resignation as Heir to the Equestrian Throne.”
And as he’d predicted, the storm of questions that followed was enough to shake the heavens.
***
“DAMN HIM!” screamed Twilight. “DAMN HIM TO TARTARUS! DAMN HIM!”
Spike, Applejack, Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash, Rarity and Pinkie all stared in amazement and shock at their friend as she paced. They had never seen her so angry. They had been enjoying a quiet lunch in Golden Oaks Royal Palace when Rarity had burst in uncharacteristically late and urged them to switch the radio on. They had caught the tail end of Blueblood’s speech.
Twilight paced furiously. They had only seen her this agitated once before, when she had thought she’d failed to make a report to Princess Celestia. Her hair stuck out wildly, her teeth ground together, her eyes were wide and fierce, and her new wings beat madly.
The only person in the room who looked happy was her bodyguard. “Shall I undertake to assassinate Blueblood for you, Your Highness?” asked Summer Set.
Twilight paused and was on the point of saying yes when she remembered that Summer did not understand sarcasm particularly well. “No, Summer, you may not! However, if you want to train for assassinating Blueblood, then be all means do so! Though for the sake of my sanity, make sure it’s quiet!”
“At once, Your Highness! Rest assured, I know of three hundred and sixty four methods of killing a pony silently! I shall not return until I have perfected them all!” And with that he disappeared upstairs.
“OF ALL THE UNMITIGATED LYING GALL!” Twilight continued. “HOW CAN HE JUST STAND UP THERE AND...”
“Twilight!”
Everypony looked down. Spike had spoken with surprising force.
“Y...yes, Spike?” stammered Twilight.
The baby dragon crossed to her and took her hoof in his claw. “Okay, tell us what’s wrong? Are you really going to let that poncy jerk get you all frustrated?”
“Ah’d have thought you’d have a thicker skin than that, Twi,” said Applejack.
Twilight sniffed. “It’s not just what he said about me, AJ, it’s everything he said about the Princesses. Everything he said about the Council meetings. It’s all lies, we know that! He never opposed forming an army! He has everything to gain from it!”
“What do you mean?” asked Rainbow Dash.
“His forges, Rainbow! Blueblood would make a fortune from forging weapons and armour! The same from his shares in logging! They’ll need wood for gun carriages and spear shafts!”
“His fashion shares!” gasped Rarity suddenly. “For uniforms!”
“And... and in medicine...” whispered Fluttershy, looking disgusted.
“Twilight, that doesn’t matter,” said Spike. “Princess Celestia can just publish the notes from the meeting. That’ll show he’s a great big liar!”
“But that’s just it, Spike! She can’t! The Council Meetings Act of 324 puts a thirty-year lock on the release of minutes from Privy Council sessions!”
“Huh? Why?”
Twilight sank miserably to the floor. “It was designed to protect collective council responsibility and ensure that Councilponies could cast votes based on the issue itself, instead of what their constituents worried about the issue. If they didn’t know who’d voted for what, they couldn’t vote them out because of things that looked like they were bad decisions but were actually good for the realm in the long term.”
She put her head in her hooves. “Blueblood stands to make a fortune from a war,” she whispered. “But he’s resigned his position and lost all his power so he can oppose it. Why? Why?”
Fluttershy fluttered over. “Twilight,” she said softly. “Let’s go for a walk. It’ll calm you down. And then maybe we can stop at Sugarcube Corner for a hot chocolate. That always calms me down. I know, I need it a lot.”
“In any case, no pony’s going to be fooled by that vile Blueblood,” said Rarity. “What with his immaculately-coifed mane, and his magnificently-pressed shirts, and his exquisitely-tailored vests, and his perfectly-knotted bow tie, and his beautifully-shined hooves, and his...”
Rainbow kicked her in the flank.
“Uh, yes... um, what I mean to say is, for all his flashiness and big talk, Blueblood is just a contemptible, classist boor, and everypony knows it! Who do you think ponies will listen to? Princess Celestia, or him?”
“It’s not a simple as that, Rarity,” said Twilight miserably. “Blueblood’s more important than you know. He might just have put Equestria into a position where it has to listen to him.”
***
In the minutes after Blueblood’s speech, Canterlot Castle ground to a halt. Aides, pages, guards, secretaries and Civil Servants dropped everything they were doing and crowded around radios, listening to every word of the frantic analysis. Experts and pundits were frantically dragged into radio stations across Equestria to give their opinion, and they swiftly confirmed what the staff in Canterlot Castle already knew: Blueblood had just plunged Equestria into a massive constitutional crisis.
The Great Charter did not explicitly state that the Heir to the Equestrian Throne had to be of the House of Blueblood, but that had been the case for so long that it was effectively taken for a given. The Great Charter did explicitly state, however, that there must be a designated Heir to take over in the extraordinarily unlikely event of the Princesses being incapacitated. It also stated that the Heir must sit on the Privy Council in some capacity. However, since it had always been assumed that the title would pass from father to son in the House of Blueblood, the Great Charter made no provision for appointing a new Heir to the Throne if the last holder had left the office without issue, as Blueblood had just done.
“Is there not a cousin we can appoint?” asked Princess Celestia in the throne room.
Sir Burnished Bronze shuffled through his notes. “Your Highness, I’ve already begun the necessary inquiries, but Blueblood and his father were both only foals. All indications are that his closest living relative is a third cousin, once removed who emigrated to Prance years ago. I’m not getting my hopes up on that front.”
“How many other houses have claims to the title?”
Sir Burnished shook his head. “Dozens, Your Highness, with every claim as distant and as equal as the last.”
“Your Highness, if I may?” Amber Spyglass stepped forward. “Some of these families will no doubt have younger foals who became MPs since they lacked a chance to inherit.”
“You’ve got us into enough trouble this week, thank you Amber!” snapped Sir Burnished.
“Sir Burnished,” said Celestia. “Pro-monarchy MPs are a commodity we desperately need at the moment. If we elevated their older sibling to Heir to the Throne, we will have their votes when it comes to the budget. Find out which families have the most members in the Commons and begin discussions with them. We need as many as possible. The houses whose leader doesn’t become Heir, we’ll elevate their titles.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Amber Spyglass watched Sir Burnished go. “You know the Commons won’t sit still on this, Your Highness. Radical Road is sure to present his own candidate.”
“Matters of the royal succession should be matters for the royal family.”
“And maybe they should be, Your Highness, but nowhere in the Great Charter does it say that. Parliament has as much right as you do to nominate a successor, and given the current climate, ignoring their wishes could be catastrophic.”
“What would you have me do?”
“Put it to vote. We need to show the public that the monarchy still has the support of Parliament. Based on the apple-barrelling plans in the budget, we probably have a solid base of support to build on, particularly if your plan to select a noble with large numbers of siblings in the Commons succeeds.”
“What you’re suggesting would effectively be a vote of confidence in the monarchy. What if we lose?”
“You still have most ordinary ponies on your side. Anyway, you are the only being on Equus with the power to raise the sun. It’s not as if they can afford to depose you. And, though I support Shining Armor’s plans myself, if we lose, then they stand a good chance of being blocked in a future Commons vote.”
Celestia grimaced and nodded slowly. “Very well, they’ll vote on it.”
***
“Thank you for coming for see me so quickly, Mr Road.”
Radical Road, MP, frowned across the desk. “Dispense with the pleasantries, Mr Blueblood. Why did you want to see me?”
Blueblood smiled at the indignation of the common pony that sat in his office. In the hour after his speech, he’d quietly invited Radical Road to a meeting in his mansion. That had been two days ago. Radical Road had waited that long to allow the crowds of reporters outside to thin out, and he’d still only agreed to come in by the servants’ entrance.
“Can the newest member of the Parliamentarian movement not meet its leader?” he asked innocently.
Radical Road huffed. “You resignation could well have done more harm than good to us. We’ve never used the kind of language against the Princesses that you did in your speech. Plus, your faux pas and classist gaffes are a matter of public record. You’re also a known misogynist and narcissist. The pro-monarchy press is going to crawl up your flank and reveal everything.”
Blueblood did not stop smiling. “And yet you came.”
Radical Road smiled this time. “I did, Mr Blueblood, because your position as Minister and Heir to the Throne gave you access to a great deal of information that we could potentially use. So you see, I have really no idea whether to consider you a liability or an asset.”
“The latter, I hope,” Blueblood leaned back on his haunches. “Who do you plan to nominate as my replacement?”
“Ponyatowski.”
That was surprising. “Oh?”
“Yes. He contacted me a few hours after you made your speech. Tomorrow he will resign from the Council, giving much the same reasons as you did. The day after that, I will make a speech in the Commons declaring our support for Ponyatowski as the new Heir to the Throne. If Celestia tries to nominate her own successor, we will simply use it as proof of the Crown being out of touch.”
“And if you win, you have a Parliamentarian on the Privy Council who will be able to challenge Celestia publicly. If she tries to dismiss or prosecute him for breaking collective responsibility, it’ll be political suicide for her. You truly are a Xanatothian manipulator, Mr Road.”
“I’m sorry?” said Radical Road, confused. “A what?”
Blueblood smiled again. He hadn’t expected this common radical to be educated in the classics. “Nothing important.”
“All right, then,” said Radical Road. “You certainly seem well-informed about developments, Mr Blueblood. But let’s get to the crux of the matter. Why did you want to see me?”
“Simple, I want in. My resignation has destabilised Celestia and given you your opening. My leaks on the budget brought Newsprint to your side. Your campaign now has my wealth behind it. In exchange, all I ask is that you support my entry into the House of Commons, and once there, appoint me to the Opposition front bench.”
Radical Road looked surprised. “You made the budget leak?”
Blueblood could see the wheels turning in Radical Road’s head. He knew exactly what he was thinking. He now believes that I am perhaps actually principled, not just an opportunist. “Yes. I kept copies of the letters I exchanged with Newsprint if you wish to see them.”
Radical Road shifted uncomfortably. “Perhaps I misjudged you, Mr Blueblood. If you can keep Newsprint on our side, then it would be my honour to back your campaign for Parliament. But there are no empty seats at the moment, and I haven’t heard of any MPs looking to retire.”
Blueblood smiled. “Oh don’t worry. I’m prepared to wait. Just one more thing...” He pulled open one of his desk drawers and removed a chequebook. “It’s your birthday in a few weeks, isn’t it?”
“Yes...” said Radical Road slowly.
“Then as a token of our new alliance, allow me to make you an early gift.” He summoned a quill with his horn and filled in the topmost cheque. “Shall we say, fifteen thousand bits?”
Radical Road’s jaw dropped. Though it had sent an MP to the Commons for Gasconeigh North for three centuries, the Road family had never been particularly wealthy.
“It would give you a rather significant advantage in future campaigns,” Blueblood added.
Equestrian law imposed strict spending and donation limits in political campaigns, but centuries of legal wrangling meant that there were no limits on how much of their own money a politician could spend on a campaign. The logic being, its supporters claimed, that you couldn’t corrupt yourself. Its critics claimed that it opened up the system to the exact sort of money transfer that Blueblood had just offered.
After a moment, Radical Road stood and extended his hoof. “Thank you. A pleasure talking to you, Blueblood.”
“And you, Radical.”
Blueblood showed Radical Road out personally. He left through the front door, trotting away with a spring in his step. Blueblood watched him go for a moment before going back upstairs to his office. He calmly opened another drawer in his desk and pulled out the tape recorder he’d secreted there before the meeting. Still smiling, he pressed the stop button.
***
Snowy Grape could feel the tremors coming on again. She cursed mentally. Why now? Of all the times she had to get a craving on, why in Tartarus did it have to be now? Just minutes before she had to make a speech in support of Radical Road and Ponyatowski!
Amid a media circus, Ponyatowski had very publicly resigned from the Privy Council, and had just as quickly crossed the floor to join the Opposition. In his speech he had railed against “the corruption inherent in this government, with its jobbery, apple barrelling, and now we see, cronyism and nepotism.”
Radical Road had swiftly followed with a speech welcoming him to the Parliamentarians and congratulating him on his “principled, brave decision to stand up to the undemocratic tendencies of this government, and its contempt for the ponies of Equestria.” He had mostly just repeated his earlier criticisms of the government. The big speech he had saved for the day after, when he declared; “after consultation with Mr Ponyatowski, I have decided to put before this house his candidacy as the new Heir to the Throne, after the principled resignation of Mr Blueblood. It is the hope of both of us that this house will support his candidacy, and that he can function has an effective check on royal abuses while on the Privy Council.”
Sir Burnished Bronze had of course, welcomed the opportunity to put the case to vote, and then had announced the government’s own candidate to replace Blueblood: Helm von Withersbach, Duke of Hayvaria in Prancenburg. “The Withersbach family possesses an excellent claim to the title of Heir to the Equestrian Throne,” Sir Burnished had said, eloquently. “And Their Highnesses’ Government welcomes the opportunity to seek the confidence of the Commons, after this week of unfortunate events.”
Radical Road and Ponyatowski had, of course, swiftly begun their investigations. By lunchtime yesterday, they’d had it: Helm von Withersbach had four siblings, of which three were MPs sitting in the Commons. He also had two cousins in the House. Celestia sought to elevate Withersbach to gain the gratitude and future votes of his relatives. Working late into the night, Snowy, Radical and Ponyatowski had put together their speech, and then Radical had done the most unexpected thing of all: He had asked her to read it.
Snowy had been and still was stunned by his request. It was an awesome responsibility; a sign that he trusted her and was prepared to welcome her into the Parliamentarians’ inner circle. It had been impossible to refuse, but from the moment she’d left that meeting, through the almost sleepless night that had followed, to entering Parliament this morning, she wished that he’d asked someone else.
“Remember,” her aide was saying, brandishing the speech in front of her. “Lots of emphasis on the ‘lack of regard for democracy’ part, but you need to stress the cronyism part as well.”
“Yeah, right, thanks,” she said, barely hearing him. They’d walked down from her office and were now passing through the Members’ Lobby before going into the Commons Chamber. Two dozen MPs were already gathered there, chatting before going into the Chamber. Some smiled at her or waved. Others looked at her with expressions of utmost loathing.
And today I’ll just make myself even more of a traitor to them, she thought bitterly. Her hooves began to shake even more, and she felt for a moment that she wouldn’t be able to stay standing. She felt the side of her face starting to twitch as well. There was no point trying to resist it. She had to take some now.
“Could you wait here for just a second?” she asked her aide. “Uh... need to pop to the little fillies’ room before we go in.”
Her aide’s face clouded with disapproval. He knows. They all know. “‘Course. Better make it quick, though. Five minutes till it starts.”
“Thanks.” She trotted off to one of the doors on their right, barely trusting her hooves to keep her upright. She heard a grinding sound and suddenly realised it was her teeth. She forced her teeth apart. The cavities and wear on her teeth were starting to make her dentist suspicious, she knew it.
She almost fell through the door into the mares’ lavatory. The walls were tiled black and white, the sinks were dark marble and the cubicles were smart oak. She pushed into the nearest cubicle and hastily slammed and locked the door behind her.
Hooves shaking worse than ever, she dug into the inside pocket of her jacket and pulled out a small plastic bag. Inside was a white powder. Smiling now, she shakily poured the granules onto the toilet seat, while battling a five-bit note from the purse in her saddlebag.
Ponies loved their sugar. Be it in cake, apple tarts, or simply in their tea, it was all good. Even Princess Celestia was known to indulge in chocolate cake occasionally. But it always had to be in something. Only the most desperate and lacking in self-restraint would take sugar raw. If anypony knew that she was indulging in hard sugar, her political career would be over.
Snowy rolled up the note, then, after taking a moment to listen and make sure no pony had just come in, she sucked the line of sugar up through the roll and into her mouth.
All of a sudden, the exhaustion from last night’s lack of sleep faded. Her hooves stopped shaking. A rush of happiness, a feeling of invincibility filled her. She felt like she could do anything now. This speech was nothing.
Smiling, she unlocked the door and trotted out back into the Members’ Lobby. What did she care if her aide was still standing there, a look of disgust on his face? She had a speech to read.
Across the lobby, a dark-suited stallion watched as Snowy Grape trotted into the chamber, a smile on her face. He nodded slowly.
***
“Wonderful speech, Ms. Grape!”
“Jolly well done!”
“You certainly showed Charm, Snowy!”
“Thank you, everypony, thank you.” Snowy Grape struggled to shrug off the crowd of admiring MPs surrounding her. The Chancellor of the Exchequer had been there to speak for the government today, and Diamond Charm’s response to her speech had been stammered, halting and incoherent. She had stressed the damage the government’s recent actions had done to the Crown; the out-of-touch nature of nominating a noble to be the new heir; and the cronyism and contempt for democracy of their strategy for winning the vote.
“Therefore!” she had shouted, concluding her speech to cheers from the benches and galleries. “If this government wishes to protect our Princesses and maintain our monarchy, if it wishes to end corruption and to show that the will of the ponies is supreme, then it will withdraw its nomination of Helm von Withersbach immediately!”
There had been thunderous applause at that. Diamond Charm had barely been able to get a word in edgeways amid the booing. Muffled Merkin had had to threaten to clear the chamber before silence fell.
Hoofshakes, slaps on the back, and hoofbumps were exchanged before the crowd around her dispersed. A spring in her step, Snowy was trotting back towards her aide when somepony appeared next to her. “Ms. Grape? Could I have a word?”
Snowy didn’t recognise the stallion. His face was lined and there were hints of grey in his black mane. He wore an immaculate but utterly unremarkable dark suit. His cutie mark was a dress shoe. “Can I help you?”
“Please pardon the interruption. I speak for Mr Blueblood.”
“Blueblood?” Her eyes narrowed. Blueblood’s resignation might have had an enormous impact on the government, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be associated with him.
“Yes, ma’am. He was most impressed by your bravery in choosing to resign last week. He credits it as one of the things that encouraged him to make the same step.”
“Really?”
“Indeed, ma’am. In fact, he has been talking to Radical Road about the possibility of joining the Parliamentarians. He has instructed me to tell you that he would honoured if you would attend an informal dinner with him at his mansion. To, ah, ‘show him the ropes’, you understand.”
Radical Road’s been talking with Blueblood? And he gives credit to me? “Dinner? Uh, when, Mr...?”
“Cordwainer, ma’am. We can arrange it at your earliest convenience. Mr Blueblood finds that he suddenly has a great deal of free time on his hooves.”
Snowy’s aide appeared next to her. “Uh, sorry Snowy but we do have to...”
“Just a second, when’s my earliest free evening?”
“Uh, what? Oh, well, there’s tonight, I think...” He riffled through a folder. “Yeah, tonight. Why?”
“Good. Is tonight all right, Mr Cordwainer?”
“Perfectly, ma’am. Can we expect you at the mansion at seven?”
“Of course. And do pass my thanks on to Mr Blueblood.”
***
“Good evening, Ms. Grape.”
“Good evening, Mr Cordwainer.”
Cordwainer had opened the door of Blueblood’s mansion for her. He now wore evening dress: a long black tailcoat, white stiff-fronted shirt, and a white bowtie. “May I take your coat, ma’am? Mr Blueblood expects you in the drawing room.”
“Thank you.”
Cordwainer hung her jacket on a coat tree by the door and escorted her through the mansion. Blueblood kept quite a house. The entrance hall was huge, reaching up the height of the house. A massive wooden staircase ringed it. Portraits of Bluebloods throughout history lined the walls, beginning with Azure Blueblood, the great military commander who had united all of Equestria at the end of the Discordian War in the Princesses’ name, become their honorary nephew and secured the title of Heir to the Equestrian Throne for his family for all time; ending with the most recent one, who had abandoned it.
Snowy felt her hooves begin to shake as Cordwainer led her to the drawing room. Maybe I should have taken some sugar before coming. She cursed mentally as she realised she couldn’t even make the excuse of going to the lavatory to take some: she’d left it in her jacket.
Cordwainer opened a set of double doors, leading her into an expansive drawing room. Bling era vases lined the walls, and a fire crackled merrily in the grate. Cosy-looking furniture was positioned around a coffee table. A portrait of the Blueblood that had mediated the Hedwig-Horsestein crisis hung over the fireplace.
Blueblood stood up from one of the couches. He wore his usual white suit and blue bowtie. Snowy suddenly wondered if she was underdressed.
“Ms. Grape, welcome!” said Blueblood genially. He smiled warmly.
Snowy stopped, taken aback for a moment. She’d half expected this to be a dull, embarrassing evening. Blueblood was, after all, known for his crassness and lack of charm. But she hadn’t expected this. Blueblood was acting like the gracious host.
“I hope my invitation wasn’t too difficult for you. I didn’t expect you to be able to attend so soon.”
“Oh, uh, not at all, Your...”
“Please, ‘Blueblood’. I don’t want any more of this ‘Your Highness’ business. We’ve both put that behind us, haven’t we?”
And so they talked. Blueblood didn’t even bring up politics during the pre-dinner drinks. Instead he simply asked how she was finding life, what she was reading at the moment, whether she’d seen any of the new plays that were out. That continued when he led her through to the dining room for dinner. Snowy forgot all about her astonishment as they ate and talked. How had she ever doubted Blueblood? She was completely at ease.
The dining room was an exquisitely-decorated chamber, lined with more portraits on the cream walls. The table was a heavy black wood laid with expensive silverware and sheer white table linen. The first course was a delicious soup of barley, carrots, leaks and peas. The main course was roasted hay and potatoes in a legume gravy, with broccoli, steamed carrots, and bread sauce. Pudding was a baked flan in custard with a small scoop of lemon ice cream on the side. It was a heavenly meal. Servants in evening dress glided in silently to collect the plates after each course. Blueblood didn’t even break conversation to acknowledge them.
Midway through coffee, Cordwainer entered the dining room and silently crossed to Blueblood. He extended a small silver tray. Frowning, Blueblood took a small square of parchment from the tray and unfolded it. As he read his frown deepened.
“Blueblood?” asked Snowy.
Blueblood crumpled the parchment and threw it back onto the tray. “It seems there has been an incident at one of my mines. It may be something I have to handle personally. I need to write a few letters.” He pulled up his napkin, wiped his lips and tossed it on to the table. “I’m sorry for leaving you like this, Snowy. I hope I won’t be too long. Please do not hesitate to ask the staff for anything. I’ll join you in the library when I’m finished.”
And with that, he stood quickly and swept from the room.
Snowy stared in amazement as the double doors swung shut. This Blueblood was utterly unlike what she’d been led to believe he was like. He had never been like this in any of their Council meetings, and when she’d seen him at parties and the Gala, he’d always been aloof and alone. How had he allowed the impression that he was an idiotic snob to develop?
She drained her coffee cup, stood up, and instantly stumbled. She giggled suddenly. Yes, that was definitely too much wine...
***
Blueblood trotted into the entrance hall, feeling soiled. He couldn’t believe he’d had to keep that ridiculous charade up for this long. Had it really taken Cordwainer that long to ensure the servants were occupied that they wouldn’t disturb him? He shuddered. Had he really had to stoop so low as to learn about popular culture to keep Snowy Grape interested? He’d had Cordwainer deliver him summaries of recent popular novels, radio shows and even movies so he could discuss them. Were the common ponies really so uncultured? Did they not care for the finest aspects of Equestrian culture? The theatre? The opera? The countryside? Radio 3? Mind you, if they enjoyed such vile nonsense as Daring Do, perhaps it was best to keep high culture out of their hooves.
He watched Cordwainer disappear down the servants’ stairs, going to burn the blank piece of parchment he’d just handed him. He’d then make sure the servants didn’t go up for ten minutes. He had that long.
He crossed to the coat tree and swiftly searched Snowy Grape’s jacket. He found what he was looking for in moments: a small plastic bag filled with sugar. He seized it in his magic and quickly crossed the entrance hall into the ground floor lavatory.
Was Snowy Grape really so foolish as to just leave her sugar behind? Then again, she was an addict, which no doubt clouded her mind. He set the bag down in the lavatory’s sink, pulled a pair of gloves over his hooves, and drew a small bag of his own from his jacket’s inside pocket.
Gently, he opened the bag of sugar, and then opened his own bag. It would not take much of an inspection to see that its contents were not sugar: unlike the tiny crystals of sugar, this was a fine white powder. He poured the entire contents into the sugar bag, closed it, and then shook it to mix the powder. It settled invisibly among the sugar.
He stuffed the gloves and bags into his pockets, then ran the tap into the sink to eliminate any evidence. He’d burn the gloves and empty bags later. He trotted back out into the entrance hall and returned the sugar to Snowy Grape’s jacket.
He gently rubbed his hooves over each other, washing away his crime. Then he sighed and made his way to the library, ready to indulge Snowy Grape in whatever other inane discussion she had in mind.
***
It had definitely been too much wine, Snowy reflected miserably the next morning. Her head had been down as she’d stumbled into the Members’ Lobby that morning, her aide by her side. She hadn’t heard a word he was saying. Her head had been pounding too much. There was a vile taste in her mouth, and she had a raging thirst. She was also exhausted: Blueblood had sent her home in his own carriage, but she hadn’t been able to get away until after midnight. And she could feel the tremors coming on again.
There was nothing for it. She’d needed some sugar. She’d staggered away from him without a word and almost fell through the door of the mares’ lavatory, almost walking into a shocked government backbencher. She’d barely been able to get the cubicle door shut before her legs failed her.
Hooves shaking worse than ever, she battled the plastic pouch from her jacket and, as gently as her hooves allowed her, shook the sugar on to the toilet seat, which was level with her eyes. Struggling to pull herself up, she took out a note, rolled it, and sucked up the sugar.
She felt her headache begin to fade immediately. The shake in her hooves began to subside. She took several deep, calming breaths before smiling and standing up. Now to do something about that shocking taste in her mouth. The sugar helped, but she’d grab a drink from the water fountain in the Members’ Lobby before she went into the Chamber. It was a dull debate today, she remembered. Some Horsetrian MP was to ask about opera subsidies.
She trotted out of the lavatory into the lobby, seeing her aide staring at her, looking revolted. A few other ponies threw her odd glances as well. She shrugged and walked towards the chamber doors.
She was halfway there when it started. Her leg jerked suddenly, throwing her off-balance. What the buck was that? She wasn’t still drunk, just a bit hung over, and the shakes always faded after she took some sugar. Then it jerked again, throwing her to the cold marble floor.
Pain shot through her as she crashed to the ground, but she didn’t notice that among the cold fear that trickled into her veins. What was happening to her? Had she overdosed? She’d never heard of anything like that...
Then her teeth slammed down on her tongue. She let out a horrid scream as blood and fire filled her mouth. Her jaw chattered uncontrollably, her head shook, and as she looked down she could see her body shaking hysterically. She couldn’t control her limbs, she couldn’t even speak.
The last thing she saw was her aide bending over her and screaming for a doctor, desperately trying to tell her it was all going to be fine...
***
“Snowy Grape is dead.”
Blueblood returned Radical Road’s cold stare with a concerned frown of his own. “How?”
“She collapsed in the Members’ Lobby this morning and went into convulsions. She was dead before the paramedics could get there. They found tetramine in her system. It’s a type of rat poison.”
Though ponies loved and cared for nearly all animals, rats held an almost unique place of hatred. They destroyed food stocks and spread disease. “I thought they were trying to get that stuff banned?” asked Blueblood nonchalantly.
“Don’t kid, Blueblood!” snarled Radical. He leaned forward. “Not even a week ago you told me that you wanted a seat in Parliament, and now Snowy’s dead and her seat’s vacant! She died the morning after she was seen joining you at this very mansion for dinner!”
Blueblood shrugged. “Well-deduced, Radical.”
“Shut up! Do you realise what you’ve done?! You’ve killed one of the greatest assets to our campaign! You’re a murderer!”
“And yet, you came here, which suggests to me that you don’t think I’ll kill you, and that you’re not going to report me to the police.”
“I could go and get them right now!”
“You could, but you won’t.”
Radical Road stared at him, his face contorted with cold fury. “Yeah? And why’s that?!”
“Because if you do, you will destroy the credibility of the Parliamentarian movement. Firstly by revealing that you invited a murderer into your ranks, and secondly...” He laid something on the desk.
“What is that?” demanded Radical Road, slowly.
“That is a recording of our last conversation. The conversation where you accepted a fifteen-thousand-bit present from yours truly. If I see policeponies approaching this mansion, I will send the tape to The Manehattan Telegraph, and if you recall, they are particularly pro-monarchy. They’d do anything to cut you down to size.”
Radical Road paled. While accepting Blueblood’s gift had not been strictly illegal, it would still be seen as bribery by the Equestrian ponies if it got out. His credibility would be shattered. “You...”
“Exactly. You report me, and we’re both finished. Joined at the hip.”
Radical Road slumped. A week ago it had been the best of times. Now he had been catapulted into something dark and utterly beyond his control. “Why did you kill her?”
“Simple. I needed a seat. Also, I’m sure you’re well-aware that Snowy was a sugar addict.”
Radical nodded miserably. It had been an open secret in Parliament for years. Not that it was anything unusual. Parliamentary Private Secretaries and Civil Servants basically ran on the stuff. Snowy Grape was just a particularly high-profile case.
“In which case, I relieved us of an unreliable addict who was blowing her money on sugar; whose addiction could have been used by Celestia as a tool against us. Well, Equestrian law forbids embarrassing details about deaths being reported to allow the deceased’s family privacy, so her secret has quite literally gone with her to the grave. Furthermore, the rat poison is easily explained: street sugar can be cut with anything. And best of all, the more conspiratorially-inclined pony will believe that Celestia had her silenced. So, every way, we win.”
Radical Road stared at him, a look of horror and disgust on his face. Blueblood’s logic was utterly remorseless.
“She was a good speaker,” he muttered. “Without her we’ll lose the vote.”
“All the pollsters say the vote is too close to call anyway. I personally believe the government will win it: Celestia has too many MPs salivating over the earmarks in the budget for it to be otherwise.”
“But then she’ll take us to war!” cried Radical Road madly. “Hundreds will die!”
“Thousands,” said Blueblood simply. “But it’s what we need. When the ponies remember what war is, when they see the bodies of their colts and fillies returned to them, their faith in Celestia will be shattered. I need it to make sure that I have the funds and men in place. And we need it so we have the military institutions there when we make our move.”
“Move?” whispered Radical. “Move to what?”
“Simple. The deposition of Celestia.”
Radical shot to his hooves. “You’re insane! We can’t depose an Alicorn with the power to move the sun! We’d be killed! And even if we succeeded, Equus would perish!”
Blueblood chuckled, and his hoof drummed against a small leather-bound book lying on his desk. Was this Earth Pony really so ignorant of the classics? “Oh, you are quite mistaken, Radical. We will succeed. Equus will survive. And it will be glorious.”