Pony Planet: Side Stories
Nobles’ Council
Admiral Biscuit
The meeting chamber of the Nobles’ Council was unusually full today. Normally, most of the hundred benches either stood empty, or were filled with junior clerks and secretaries, hoping to curry favor by taking on a task nopony else wanted to. Twice a month, an official vote was held. On those days, the benches were filled with actual nobles—or at least senior clerks.
Typically, Raven would call them to order. The session would open with the most junior member making a motion to replace the benches, and the most senior member reciting a dry speech about how adversity built character, and the motion would be tabled until the next meeting. Nopony except Celestia knew how long that traditional call-to-order had been around.
After that, whatever noble had a pet project would step up to the dais and recite off his new proposal. His backers would give him their utmost attention, while everypony else ignored him and discussed the latest fashions out of Manehattan or the scores of the hoofball games the week before. Sometimes the two camps would come together and discuss the newest uniforms that the Canterlot ‘Bolts were wearing, but that was rare.
Today was a different story. Raven noticed the serious mood as soon as she came into the room. Everypony was staring up at her in rapt attention, and every noble who lived in Canterlot was in attendance, even Prince Blueblood.
Raven banged her gavel on the podium. “Gentleponies, this session is called to order.” A hoof waved in the air. “The crown recognizes Ivory, representing Their Highnesses Cadenza.”
“I make a motion to replace all the benches in the chamber,” he said simply and sat back down.
“Motion to replace the benches. Does anypony second the motion? No? The crown recognizes Prince Blueblood of Canterlot.”
“I make a countermotion. I propose we keep the old benches.” Blueblood sat back down. Raven raised an eyebrow. So far, Blueblood’s shortest speech on the subject of the benches had been three minutes long—and that was on the eve of the Grand Galloping Gala. Ever since they’d had a crystal pony in their midst, Blueblood had gone out of his way to make the poor stallion uncomfortable.
“I second Blueblood’s counterproposal.” Black Marble stood and sat again so fast he might as well have been a jack-in-a-box.
“Motion to keep the benches, seconded by Black Marble. All in favor? Motion carried with unanimous vote.” Raven looked down at her notes, although it really wasn’t necessary—it was a force of habit. “The Nobles’ Council will rise to welcome Her Royal Highness Princess Celestia, Bringer of the Sun and Protector of Equestria.” Celestia grimaced every time she heard that, Raven knew.
Princess Celestia walked through the archway on the east side of the chamber and stopped in front of a garishly ornate throne which had only been used once—to honor the pony who had built it. She walked to the edge of the dais and looked over the crowd, a small smile on her face.
“During the week of Winter Wrap-Up, I inadvertently made contact with a heretofore unknown species,” Celestia stated simply. “Per convention, I have sent letters to all of our allies and protectorates that they might be informed. I have extended an offer towards one of them to become their ambassador, and have the highest confidence he will accept.
“Naturally, the Council needs to decide upon a representative to staff the Equestrian embassy. The new embassy will be located in Ponyville, and the ambassador will be expected to remain there unless personally summoned to Canterlot. The posting will be for the traditional six-year period. If I may call Prince Blueblood to the floor?”
The slow beat of his hooffalls rang out over the silent chamber. Never in anypony’s memory had a new embassy been opened. Each noble was privately wondering what sort of sapient creature Celestia had discovered, where it had come from, and what it looked like. There had been an upsurge in interest in the moon since the Nightmare Moon incident; could the new creature have come from there? Rumors of moon mares had run rampant throughout the summer after Luna’s return; coupled with the reappearance of her bat-winged guards, anything had seemed possible. More recently, the newspapers had been abuzz with stories about the re-emergence of the Crystal Empire, and there were even suggestions that the Equestrian Games might be held there. To follow that with yet another land, and a new embassy was . . . unprecedented.
“It has been over a century since the Zebrican embassy was opened,” Celestia continued as Blueblood stood awkwardly next to her. Faint mutterings regarding his choice in suit and decision to wear his medal could be heard. He was proud of it; he was the sole recipient of the Order of the Croupiere, given for his dedicated service as a quartermaster for the Royal Guard. The newspapers occasionally made fun of it; unfortunately none of the other nobles could, since none of them had served in the Guard. “And it is a great challenge—and a great honor—to be named the first ambassador. Prince Blueblood, do you have a statement?”
“Thank you.” He turned to face her and bowed deeply, stopping just shy of kissing her golden shoes. “My fellow nobles, it is indeed a great honor to be chosen for an embassy—any embassy posting—and more so if it is a brand-new embassy, located in an out-of-the-way location. A unicorn who accepts such an assignment must be the best, most qualified choice, as in the early stages of diplomacy even the slightest misstep may lead to disaster.
“There is, I feel, only one pony who is qualified to take such an august post. Therefore, without any further ado, I wish to propose Lyra Heartstrings to the position.” A consummate speaker, Blueblood waited until the shocked conversation had died down to a whisper before continuing. “She has spent the most amount of time in his country, and is intimately familiar with his customs. She has an unparalleled command of his language. Her insight into his culture is unparalleled in all of Equestria, and, as such, I cannot think of a more qualified pony for the position.”
Raven smiled. Blueblood never heaped praise upon anypony besides himself—apparently Princess Celestia’s plan had worked. “Motion to nominate Lyra Heartstrings.”
“I second the motion.”
“The Crown recognizes Cobalt as a proxy for Fancy Pants, seconding the motion.” A murmur went through the crowd. Besides Raven, one could count on Fancy or Fleur being at every single council meeting—for them to both be missing was an unlikely event, and another murmur ran through the crowd.
“I propose you.” The voice caused Bluebood to wince. He’d anticipated this, of course. Everypony knew Graphite wanted the Prench Embassy for himself. “You’re champing at the bit to get an ambassadorship. You’ve got a medal and all that; you’re a retired Royal Guard.” As sweet as his praise was, the venom practically dripped off his words. “I can’t think of how much of an honor it would be for you to serve this post.”
“I would be honored indeed.” Blueblood took a step forward, coming dangerously close to falling off the dais. “But this is about more than honor. This is about Equestria. A pony shouldn’t take an important position just because it’s his due; he should think about what’s best for everypony. I would never think of accepting the offer when there’s a more qualified pony who would be eager to serve.
“Nonetheless, Mayor Graphite, you have made a good point. Sometimes a pony is called to greatness, even when he is not the most qualified for the position. If I were elected, I believe I would leave the existing team largely intact—after all, it’s unreasonable to believe I could be up to speed on a new language in a matter of a few days.
“However, I would want a second noble to help me. Somepony who is experienced with small-town politics. Somepony like a mayor would be perfect—I understand you have experience with the customs of earth pony towns? I believe the two of us—together—could make a brilliant embassy team. I can see us now, gaily galloping through Whitetail Woods during the annual running of the leaves—your dark coat would serve as such a marvelous contrast to mine.” He smiled broadly.
“I second the motion to nominate Prince Blueblood as ambassador.” Sky Dream stood.
“The crown recognizes a motion to second from Sky Dream.”
“Prince Blueblood speaks highly of this Lyra Heartstrings out of one side of his mouth, but from the other we hear how important a posting this is. We would be foals to entrust such a position to a comm—an outsider. We have no idea how she might behave, nor how she might carry out her duties. Does this Lyra even know Equestrian laws? Is she familiar with our legislative process? Only a member of the Nobles’ Council is qualified for an embassy position.”
Blueblood cringed. He’d expected the challenge from Mayor Graphite, and had prepared his rebuttal. Blue Moon hadn’t spoken yet, but he was sure to get in the fray on the make-Blueblood-do-it side. Fancy Pants had promised him that he would put in a good word for Lyra, but he wasn’t here, and aside from Cobalt’s second, there had been no movement from that camp. He could try and dilute the pool by nominating somepony else and hoping it would be seconded, sweat it out until the vote was taken and hope he lost, or try and move some of the moderate ponies.
“Does anypony else wish to make a nomination? No? Very well—”
“Wait!” Blueblood raised his hoof. “I wish to make a rebuttal to Sky Dream.”
“Go ahead.” Raven set the gavel back down.
“Gentleponies, Sky Dreams raises some very good points. As it appears many members of the Council are unfamiliar with Lyra Heartstrings, allow me to list some of her other qualifications. She can trace her lineage back to Princess Platinum.” This statement was lead with a few hoof-stomps, mostly from minor nobles who had little else in their family history. The truth was that Platinum and her descendants had been quite prolific, and there were very few unicorns who couldn’t trace their bloodlines back to the Platinum house. “As a member of the Royal Guard, her loyalty is unimpeachable.” Blueblood proudly puffed out his chest, causing a bright glint off his medal. This did little to help his case. “She . . . she’s also the youngest unicorn Grandmaster in Equestrian history.”
“Furthermore, she is not constrained by our rigid procedures. While these procedures are good for passing laws which affect all of Equestria, they could handicap an ambassador, who must have a more abstract way of thinking—especially during the delicate process of establishing a fledgeling relationship between two countries. I have been informed that she has made remarkable progress in a very short period of time, and has established a fine network of assistants to aid in her task. Were we to replace her at this juncture, it would be akin to replacing the Canterlot ‘Bolts midfielder at halftime. She has been doing an admirable job so far, and I think we would be foals not to let her continue.”
“Thank you, Prince Bluebood.” Raven banged her gavel. “Are there any further statements to be made?”
“I wish to be heard.”
“The crown recognizes Ivory, representing Their Highnesses Cadenza.”
“My fellow nobles—I just wish to state that our nation was saved primarily by the heroism of a young dragon, who is normally an assistant to a rural librarian. Perhaps if we had held a vote, we could have found a more-qualified hero—but Spike did the job admirably, and in the end, that’s all that matters. And I also wish to say that he could not have done it if not for the close relationship he has with several other ponies who were there, including Her Royal Highness Crystal Princess Mi Amore Cadenza. It is the opinion of Their Highnesses that a good relationship should not be sundered.”
“Thank you, Ivory.”
“I make a motion to take a vote between Lyra Heartstrings and Prince Blueblood.” When he had finished speaking, Ivory sat back down.
“I’ll second that.”
“Motion seconded by Cobalt. Are there any dissenters?”
The hall was silent.
“Very well. Cast your ballots, gentleponies. Red for Lyra, white for Blueblood.”
There was a flurry of activity as the nobles opened their desks.and took out a sheet of paper and their ink pads. Each noble placed a hoof into the appropriate-colored ink, and then stamped his hoof on the paper. The marking would stay on the hoof—ensuring that nopony made more than one vote. Raven smiled to herself—in the back she could see a couple of reporters whispering to each other. They had no doubt seen the red mark on Blueblood’s right forehoof, and were discussing among themselves the last time the prince had voted against himself. Without having to consult voting records, Raven knew the answer was never.
Blueblood—who had returned to his desk for the vote—shifted on his bench. He could feel himself sweating, but to wipe his brow was simply Not Done. He suffered in silence as Raven counted the ballots, sorting them into two piles. Finally, she banged her gavel on the podium. “The vote is for Lyra Heartstrings, with forty-seven for, forty-six against, and seven abstaining.”
Blueblood slid down in his seat. He’d lost an election, and it felt great. Maybe he could try to talk himself off a committee next.