Of Lilies and Chestnuts

by Prane


Chapter 6 – Noble Ways

With Fleur gone shopping on Monday morning, Fancy Pants and Chestnut had the entire house for their educational endeavors. Since learning at home was much different from spending the best moments of your life at school, the classroom—temporarily established in the living room—had to be equally peculiar. Instead of rows of desks, easy to clean floors, and clocks rigged to show the unbearably slow passage of time, the room was furnished with objects which could as well tell lectures of their own.

It was by far the most luxurious classroom of all times, but it was still a classroom.

The two ponies went across a soft, wooly rug and sat at the massive dining table made of the finest White Tail Woods oaks. Fancy Pants placed pens, pencils, and sheets of paper aside. He glanced at the longcase clock with a silver-framed amethyst pendulum, waited a few more ticks, and turned to the filly precisely when the hands aligned.

“I thought we could start with some reading material. Tell me, what is it that you like the most about reading?”

Chestnut leaned on the table. “The bestest thing about reading is that I can visit places I’ll never go to. Or get to know ponies I would never meet in real life. Oh, and good guys fighting bad guys! That’s pretty important too!”

“Is there anything in particular that keeps you from fully enjoying these stories?”

“Well, I didn’t really read much before Doc Hugs tasked me with this,” Chestnut admitted, pointing at the Daring Do and the Rainbow Rupture before her. “Mostly comic books because they’re not that difficult. But when I’m reading longer things I sometimes find words I have never seen before.” She winced. “Not knowing something in a crossword isn’t such a big deal, but not understanding what you’re reading about is annoying!”

“Well then, I see two ways in which we can solve this issue,” Fancy Pants said. “The easy one involves me telling you the definition of every word you have trouble understanding. But, correct me if I’m wrong, I suppose you’d rather try something more challenging?”

Chestnut’s eyes shined at the sound of that last word. She wriggled on the chair much too big for her small-scale constitution, seating herself neatly at its edge. She grinned and vigorously nodded, eager to learn something new.

“Thought so!” Fancy Pants chuckled. “Now, the other way is about deducing the meaning of the word from the context.”

“Fine by me!” Chestnut replied. “But can we try the easy way first? For just one word?”

“And what word would that be?”

“Context.”

Fancy Pants chortled over his own lack of insight. “Why, certainly! The context is a situation in which the given word is used. By reading several words around that word you can usually guess its meaning,” he explained, then moved the Daring Do closer to the filly. “I figured you’d like to work with something familiar. Go on, pick a fragment with some unknown word and read it to me out loud. Then we’ll see what we can do about it, shall we?”

“I can think of at least five.” Chestnut leafed through the pages and stopped about halfway through the book. “I’ve got one right here, but let me try reading it quietly first, okay? I need to prepare.”

“Of course. Take your time.”

Fancy Pants watched as Chestnut was whispering over an excerpt she chose. He recognized the part with ease—Daring Do’s venture through the dark caves under the Rainbow Rupture was coming to an end, and she was about to find maybe not the greatest, but certainly the most vivid treasure of her career. He had finished reading the book last night but decided not to mention it. He didn’t want the filly to start comparing herself and get discouraged towards reading just because she wasn’t burning through the content quickly enough.

“Okay, here we go.” Chestnut cleared her throat, then read the fragment with decent fluency and only a few hiccups along the way. “As Daring Do entered the spacious chamber, she was immediately bathed in the alluring light emanating from the legendary Prismatic Spire.” She pushed the book back to the stallion. “This one. I don’t know what ‘alluring’ means. I can’t tell if it’s warm, bright, or glowing. I only know it has something to do with the light.”

“Good thinking. ‘Alluring’ here definitely describes a certain property of the light. To get a broader perspective we need to read on.” He put on his monocle and read the next part. “ ‘It’s beautiful,’ Daring whispered, taking an unconscious step towards the Spire. It was like some kind of mystical force guided her across the glass bridge. The force she could not resist.” Fancy Pants leaned back. “There. What can we tell from this fragment?”

“That… Daring Do can cross bridges?”

“Well, there’s no denying that, but would she cross it if there was no alluring light on the other side? Would you say it was entirely her choice to go towards its source?”

“It doesn’t feel like it.” Chestnut stuck her nose into the book and skimmed over the excerpt again. “Wait, does it mean the light, I don’t know, somehow invited her? Does ‘alluring’ mean ‘welcoming’?”

Fancy Pants shook his head. “Not quite, I’m afraid. It’s more like, hmm, how to say it?” he wondered, tapping his chin. “Aha! Do you remember yesterday morning? I was just finishing the newspaper when you came down saying that…”

He made an encouraging motion towards the filly.

“I said that I don’t even like coffee but I can tell when something smells good. And that I couldn’t resist coming down!” Chestnut’s ears pricked up. “Just like she couldn’t resist walking towards the light? So… both the coffee and the light drew us closer because they were interesting in a good way.” She took a moment to connect the dots. “Hey, does it mean ‘attractive’?”

Fancy Pants joined his hooves in a loud clap. “Splendid! That’s the word, but let’s try to be more specific,” he said. “The light was attractive, but how exactly? Remember that it originated from the Prismatic Spire itself, a fabled object of desire unseen by pony eyes for at least—”

“Wait! I got it! Don’t say anything!” the filly shouted, not holding back her excitement. “ ‘Alluring’ means ‘attractive in a mysterious and powerful way’!”

Cordially asked not to utter a word Fancy Pants obliged, and in the face of such unbeatable reasoning and the utmost correct answer, he only smiled and nodded with appreciation. He applauded Chestnut’s wits and—in an awfully self-serving manner—his own, recently discovered skills at teaching.

“Yes! Points for Team Nuts!” Chestnut threw her hooves in the air, nearly falling off the chair in the process. When she regained her balance she instantly assumed a relaxed, nonchalant posture. “But you know what? Coffee isn’t alluring at all. It lacks mysteriousity.”

“Mysteriousness.”

“That too!” she exclaimed and reached for the book. “Let’s find another one!”

The lesson began for good with the two ponies following the same routine: first Chestnut read a fragment, and then Fancy Pants did his best to guide her towards the meaning of some ambiguous word. She warmed up quickly and soon didn’t need to pre-read the text, taking the proverbial minotaur by the horns instead.

Teaching was as much of a challenge for Fancy Pants as learning was for the filly. Finding analogies to describe certain words without giving away their meanings was tricky, but the time invested in solving crosswords paid off well. Over the next hour or so they learned that there was a difference between ‘effective’ and ‘efficient’, that ‘gorgeous’ didn’t meant as wide as a gorge, and that ‘epitome’ wasn’t a big black book of epic tales hidden in the darkest corner of the library—to name but a few.

After a short snack break they moved onto the next part of their lesson: writing. Unsurprisingly, it turned out much more problematic for Chestnut since her hooves were too clumsy to manipulate small objects with required precision. She had to adapt her lips to hold a slim pen Fleur had lent her—‘Are you for real, husband? At least give her something that won’t knock her teeth out. Here, take mine!’—but so far her efforts were valiant at best.

When a nasty drip of mandarin ink flooded the skewed letters, Chestnut spat out the pen and growled, her cheeks flushing. She threw an angry glare at the innocent sheet of paper on which the orange stain covered her now completely unreadable signature.

“Argh, it can’t be done!” she said, crossing her forelegs high on her chest. “If I wanted I could be more precise with the tip of my wing than with this thing.” She slowly extended her wing over the bottle of ink. “Hey, maybe that’s the idea…”

“I would advise against that,” Fancy Pants said, taking the bottle out of the filly’s wingspan. “And you shouldn’t give up so easily! It’s only a matter of holding the pen at the right angle, like I showed you,” he added, wrapping his own pen in the saffron mist and then casually writing down his name.

“That’s not fair!” Chestnut protested. “You have magic to hold yours!”

“You want me to try without magic, yes? Very well, then.”

His horn ceased to shimmer. Leaning over the table, he clasped the pen in his mouth and wrote his name again, right below the original signature. There was close to no difference between the two, as both strings of letters were equally impeccable.

If Chestnut’s widened eyes were any indication, he didn’t need magic to charm her. “Coolest!” she exclaimed. “Okay, I admit, it is possible. But why would a unicorn like you need that? Aren’t you guys supposed to use your magic all the time to do all kinds of crazy stuff like, you know, creating giant fireballs and such?”

Fancy Pants cocked his eyebrow. “Giant fireballs? I say, even if I was capable of performing such a feat, what practical use would it have? No, most unicorns, myself included, have a rather limited magical repertoire, especially compared to what you can find in fiction. Perhaps for the better!” he concluded. “Onto your question, however. What if I told you I’ve been to a place where I couldn’t use my magic?”

“For real?” Chestnut asked. As her curiosity piqued beyond reasonable limits, she got up and leaned against the edge of the table. She drew a sharp breath and went all-in for a single wild guess. “Did you get captured by a nefarious wizard who threw you and your friends into his dungeon and also took away your magic to make it harder for you to solve his totally impossible challenges which you later solved anyway?”

Fancy Pants squinted at the bouncing filly. Like all children, she definitely had a strong imagination. She had likely read too many comic books with nefarious villains, as well. Still, they had discussed the word ‘nefarious’ maybe a quarter of an hour ago on the example of the pre-caves scene with Daring Do and Ahuizotl, so hearing Chestnut use it properly was a promising forecast for her further education.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you but it was nothing like that,” Fancy Pants replied. “Far away to the east lies a city-state of great culture and great antiquity called Shanghay”—he wrote the name in capital letters—“ruled by the mighty Empress who is a kirin. That’s K-I-R-I-N, or, in their language, Q-I-L-I-N.”

Chestnut glanced at the new words. “What is a, uhm, ki-rin?”

“Simply put, kirins are like unicorns with some draconic traits. They are tall, with two horns protruding from the back of their heads, and thick coats that are partially covered with shimmering scales. The Empress is the most important pony for the citizens of Shanghay, much like Princesses Celestia and Luna are for us.”

“So she’s like an alicorn, but from Shanghay.”

“Minus the wings, but yes, you could say that. However, you’re still more likely to bump into an alicorn prancing down the Promenade than see a kirin in Shanghay,” Fancy Pants said. “The Empress lives in a palace that’s a maze of splendid corridors and chambers, protected by her personal army of loyal-above-all guards. Only a couple of her most trustworthy ministers can apply for an audience, so if you’re not one of them, or you don’t have some otherwise specials connections, the chances are you’ll never see her because she rarely leaves the palace.”

“Then how do you know so much about her if you’re not her minister? Do you have any special connection with her?”

Fancy Pants flushed. “We—erm, I had a pleasure of meeting her when she wasn’t the Empress yet, during her father’s reign. That’s how it all worked when he was in charge, and I doubt she has changed since then. Has changed the rules, I mean. The ponies of Shanghay are quite zealous traditionalists, after all.“

“What does it mean?”

“It means that their customs, the ways they do certain things, are very important to them. For example, in their culture it is forbidden to use magic in the presence of a royal kirin and it would be considered extremely rude for an outsider like me to do so. Unfortunately, I was on a diplomatic mission and we were to sign some important documents with the Emperor watching.” Fancy Pants laughed. “I remember I spent three nights learning how to properly hold a pen in my mouth! And to be honest, I was doing much poorer than you!”

Chestnut snickered and got to replicating the newly learned words.

The sound of a doorbell resounded across the house, but whoever was approaching didn’t wait for Fancy Pants to get up and answer it, and just entered without asking for permission—and rightfully so.

“I’m back!” Fleur announced.

“How was shopping, dear?”

A most unusual phenomenon in form of a slim supermodel holding two large bags of groceries appeared in the living room. The mare put them on the floor, blew a strand of hair off her face, and sighed heavily. “Ugh, terrible,” she replied, sinking deep into the plush armchair. “It was like partaking in the Running of the Leaves all over again, but this time with actual running. I can’t imagine how all those athletes manage this.”

“What happened?” Chestnut asked.

“This happened!” Fleur reached between a baguette and a cauliflower and pulled out a bottle she levitated to the coffee table. “Voila! Peppermint and vanilla. As you may know, this is my shampoo. It seems I’ve been too generous with it lately, but I’m afraid that’s what I get for having a mane that long. Perhaps it is time to trim the ends again?” she said, her thoughts drifting off to the Monsoon’s Top Ten Easy to Manage Hairstyles.

Chestnut took a covert lean towards Fancy Pants and whispered, “I thought you said I could use any—”

“Shh, or we’re both done—yes, dear, a new hairdo? I think you’d look rather ravishing in short!”

“Mhm, totally rad!” Chestnut quickly added. “We’re sorry you ran out of your shampoo.”

“You haven’t heard the worst,” Fleur replied. “Nopony at the Green Bean Market had it in stock today, so I thought I’d go buy it somewhere else and then return for the groceries. No point in carrying these through town, is it? So I went to a store on Ivory Street, but guess what? They were in the middle of a physical inventory! Because they were busy counting screws and candies and whatnots, I couldn’t get my shampoo. A travesty, to say the least! What did they expect me to do, wash my hair with a shower gel?”

“But you did get it in the end, I take it?”

“Of course! There was one more place in the area I could think of: Gabriel’s Emporium. I went there, grabbed my shampoo, and spent way too long in the checkout. I had no idea that this big-boned griffon owned such a busy store! Then I galloped back to the Green Bean. I barely made it on time!”

“Why did you run?” Chestnut asked. “Were you afraid someone would buy out the beans?”

Fleur looked at her, confused. “Quoi? Oh, not at all, it’s just that the vendor I’m used to leaves at noon,” she explained. She stood up and gathered the bags of shopping in the ethereal grip of pink. “Anyway, I hope you’re hungry. Dinner will be served in”—she glanced at the clock and shrugged—“In as soon as I make it.”

“Do you need any help?” Fancy Pants inquired.

Non, don’t worry. Since I’m a housewife now, I should probably hone up my kitchen expertise.” She took a step out of the room. “What about you two? Learned anything useful?”

“Ah, I was just telling Chestnut about Shanghay.”

Fleur turned around, her eyes glinting with a playful spark. “Oh? I do hope you remembered to mention Empress Daiyu, the Black Jade Lady also known as the would-be Mrs. Fancy Pants?” She grinned at her husband’s reddened face. “If you’re telling her about Shanghay, at least tell her the good part. About the rooftops.”

Fancy Pants looked at his wife. Her stare could be best described as alluring, although the word would bear a slightly different meaning than the one he had worked out with Chestnut. Fleur winked, then disappeared in the hallway, leaving him enraptured with memories. He could almost hear the music playing that night…

“Rooftops?” Chestnut asked. “Hey, what exactly happened on the rooftops?”

Fancy Pants promptly rolled the pen towards the inquisitive filly. “It is a long story, but one definitely worth telling. Maybe some other time,” he hurriedly assured. “For now, how about we do one more round? With the words from the book, if you please.”

They called it a day after another half an hour of Chestnut’s daring struggle. The filly gathered her ink, pen, and sheets of paper atop the Daring Do book and carried the bundle upstairs. Meanwhile, Fancy Pants cleaned the table from occasional ink spots and set it for the upcoming meal: a healthy salad composed of sweet corn, chopped tomatoes, and green pepper drenched in the tasty sourness of the dressing. Chestnut was the one who finished eating and asked for seconds first, but Fancy Pants soon followed her example and got himself another portion as well.

After dinner he offered to wash the dishes while the ladies moved to the sofa.

Fleur turned to the little devourer.

“I don’t know if Fancy Pants has already told you, but we’ll be having a little party on Wednesday.”

Chestnut let out a quizzical murmur which sounded as if she wasn’t only acknowledging this new piece of information, but also deeply pondering it already. Fleur gave her a wary look. The filly’s gaze was unfocused, it was as if her thoughts were running elsewhere. A likely result of having her mind still occupied with the recent feast.

Chestnut noticed the mare watching her.

“Oh, a party!” she said with rekindled excitement. “What kind of a party?”

“Just a get-together with some of our acquaintances,” Fleur replied. “Every month, Fancy Pants and his friends meet to discuss their very serious, very mattering topics.” She turned towards the hallway and called, “What do you stallions usually talk about at our parties, anyway?”

“Economics. Politics. Sports. Anything to appear less childish than we really are,” the honest answer was heard over the splashing noises.

The filly and the mare joined in silly snickers and gentle giggles respectively.

“I suppose that’s quite accurate,” Fleur said. “Meanwhile, all the mares discuss their childish stallions and everything that’s been happening lately. It’s something akin to—well, I won’t lie to you, we’re pretty much a bunch of gossipers.”

Chestnut nodded. “Okay, so important ponies like you guys are dropping by. Sounds serious! But, uhm, you know what happened last time I ran into important ponies, right?” She covered herself with a plush cushion. “Bad stuff. I can stay upstairs and pretend I’m not in the house if that helps.”

Fleur couldn’t tell whether Chestnut’s selflessness was the result of her Tramplevanian upbringing or the fact she was an orphan for, well, she didn’t know how long, but she was beyond question sensitive to the needs of the others.

“Chestnut! What a ridiculous idea! We would like you to join us, of course!”

“Are you sure?” the filly asked, awkwardly holding onto the cushion. “Your parties are probably quite different from those few I’ve been to, so I can tell it doesn’t feel appropriate, I guess, for me to show up. I’m just a farmpony, no one half as important as you and your friends.”

Au contraire! Your will be our guest of honor, and the ponies from the Canterlot Elite will love to acquaintance you!”

Clueless as she was, Chestnut let go of the pillow and splayed her forelegs out.

“I have absolutely no idea what any of that means.”

The thing about the Canterlot Elite parties was that they were memorable. Choosing an extravagant place to attract the guests, serving exotic appetizers and drinks to make them stay, and orchestrating the sense of glamour and exquisiteness that would be remembered for days—no, those weren’t enough to satisfy the demanding ponies of the high society because anypony with a handful of bits could get such obvious necessities. In order to impress each other, the Canterlot Elite ponies would also invite a guest of honor, someone worth meeting. Rising pop stars, designers, and artists were all good choices, and acquiring a widely recognized celebrity was a perfect way of demonstrating how far your connections reached, therefore proving that you were a type of pony everypony should know.

Coming up next: Chestnut from the Canterlot Orphanarium.

As Fleur was about to explain the idea in detail, Fancy Pants came back from the kitchen.

“Think of it as an opportunity to meet other ponies, nothing more,” he said. “By the way, have you found a dream to pursue yet? Do you know who would you like to be in the future?”

Chestnut’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second only to take an indifferent look a moment later. She shrugged.

“Not really, no.”

“Then perhaps meeting some of our friends is just the thing for you,” Fancy Pants said. “They are all much older than you, granted, but you may learn something interesting from them and discover new ways to spread your wings.” He chuckled when the filly threw a troubled glance at her back as if she was checking if her wings were still there. “For example, let’s say you’re an aspiring cellist.”

She deadpanned. “Yes, because playing an instrument is so much easier than writing.”

“It’s just an example. You see, one of our friends knows all there is about the world of classical music, and she’s a pony of considerable virtuosity herself. She’s unmatched, really. At the party you’d get a chance to introduce yourself, share a pleasant conversation, maybe even straight befriend her. Then, if you played your cards right, you’d find yourself training under the watchful eye of Octavia Melody, thus getting one step closer to fulfilling your dream of becoming a great musician!”

Chestnut didn’t seem convinced. Fleur, having learned that personal gain wasn’t in the filly’s agenda, offered a different angle.

“It’s not only about helping yourself, but also inspiring others to do something good as well,” she said. “Remember my friend Rarity? She once attended a charity event organized by Golden Gavel, one of our oldest acquaintances. The influence she had on the important ponies encouraged them to be, shall we say, more generous during the auction, and effectively doubled the amount of bits Golden Gavel hoped to gather. In the end, he could not only support the clinic in Hollow Shades as he originally intended, but also donate to the school there.”

“Many colts and fillies received the much needed learning aids,” Fancy Pants added.

“Huh. And I thought parties were about chilling out and having fun.” Chestnut looked upon the unicorns. “Your parties are weird, you know that? But helping myself and the others at the same time seems fine by me. Do you have any tips on how to do it in an efficient way?”

“Oh, one or two,” Fleur replied, didn’t quite getting the reason behind her husband’s proud smug. “As you have noticed, our parties are a bit… different. They can still be fun, and there’s plenty of space for relaxation, but there are certain rules to follow, certain things that are welcomed, even expected, as well as some that you absolutely shouldn’t do. I realize it probably sounds much different than the parties the fillies your age are used to, but we’d be happy to show you how to get along with our friends if you want.”

“What do you say, young lady?” Fancy Pants asked. “It’ll take commitment from us all, but doesn’t that sound better than hiding upstairs?”

Chestnut jumped off the sofa and took a few steps to the middle of the room. She rubbed her neck, as if she was unsure of something. After a moment she made a swift turn and spread her wings to their full extent, assuming a balanced stance that belonged to a war zone rather than the elegant living room. She distributed her body weight evenly among her limbs, and leaned forward with her tail flicking upwards. Her eyes shined in a predatory way.

“Count me in! Show me how to party, Canterlot style!” she exclaimed. “No, wait!”

She straightened up, folded her wings, raised her chin up, then spoke at a much quieter tone.

“Canterlot manner is what I meant”—she shot unconcerned glances left and right—“uhm, naturally.”

“Not a bad start,” Fleur admitted, inviting the filly to the hallway. “Come along. Let’s turn you into a proper lady!”

Another class in the filly’s busy timetable had begun.

Instead of learning the meaning of words and how to write them, Chestnut got to know the significance of gestures and postures, and how to employ them in a socially endorsed way. Unlike Fancy Pants, Fleur was a relentless teacher who strove for perfection. Years of modeling made her into an absolute expert in the fields of impression management and self-presentation, and she knew all too well that one false step could kill the entire show they were going to put up.

“Head high. Straight as a string.” She kept walking around the filly, repositioning her limbs and fixing loose strands of her mane. “Très bien! A delicate smile. Remember, you want to charm the ponies around you, not scare them away. Now, about your fangs.” She put her hoof on Chestnut’s muzzle in an attempt to stretch her upper lip down. “Well, there’s nothing we can do about them, but the tips sticking out give you a rather intriguing look, don’t you think?”

Chestnut gave her a stiff nod. With every muscle flexed, she was struggling to hold the unnatural pose the mare had arranged her body into. Her forelegs trembling, almost glued together, provided barely the stability she was used to. She’d feel much better with her limbs loose, ready to dash or bounce or scurry or not stand still in general. Her tail, no longer sweeping the floor, was kept restrained by a tremendous effort of will creeping up from under a gentle smirk.

It sure was hard to maintain that bizarre but necessary to master stance, but Chestnut was giving her utmost.

“You do realize the ponies of Canterlot need to breathe too?” Fleur asked, to which the filly immediately sucked in all the air she could take in one go. “Oh my. I could swear we covered that particular detail. Well, uhm, we’ll get to being passive-impressive later. We should practice some walking now.”

“Walking? Seriously?”

“Don’t give me that look! Walking is an important and complex skill to have. This very mirror, for example, is here because of my walking know-how.” She gazed at her reflection and murmured, “It would’ve been bigger if it wasn’t for one indigo excuse for a model.” She turned back to the filly. “Anyway, let’s say you have to go from here to the living room, say to sit at the table. How would you do that?”

“I would fly my way in to have the bestest seat, but I guess that’s not what I should do in this case.” Chestnut turned sideways and looked at the reflection of her back. “What about wings?”

“Keep them folded. Flying indoors is considered improper, so to sit next to Fancy Pants you have to go not over, but around the table.”

Chestnut began the approach with her every step observed and silently evaluated by the unicorns. Not knowing better, she applied the stiffness of the stationary posture to her moves and turned her walk into a parody of itself. Her steps hulking, as heavy as those of a rock farmer after eight hours of mining and sifting through gravel, Chestnut lumbered across the living room. She scuffed against the edge of the sofa, completely ignored the waiting stallion, and almost fall over with the chair when she pulled it away from the table.

She successfully landed her rump in place, though.

“Not bad, hmm?” she said with a cheeky grin.

Fancy Pants snickered.

“Not bad at all,” Fleur replied when she finally unstuck her hoof from her forehead. “But we can definitely do better. I will show you what you need to do to bedazzle the crowds. Observe.”

Fleur entered the room veiled in the palpable aura of grace and dignity. Her steps were confident and steady, but at the same time light. She chose her path adequately and didn’t touch the sofa, granting an imaginary group of guests that would be sitting there with a gentle smile. She didn’t speak a single word, only nodded towards Fancy Pants and approached the table where a chair, wrapped in mist of the stallion’s magic, moved away.

She gracefully seated herself at the table.

“Can you see the difference?”

“Sure!” Chestnut replied. “You guys were working together and I was on my own!”

Without having to look, the couple joined their hooves in a brief, triumphant bump.

“Mind that I didn’t ask Fancy Pants to aid me in this scenario, and after today you won’t be needing to, either,” Fleur said. “You enter the room, and all conversation go silent. Every stallion notices you and every mare gasps in awe over how extraordinary you are. Not only because of your appearance, but because of how you act, move, and present yourself.”

Chestnut scratched her head. “Uhm, I think I got it. One more time?”

Although it took Chestnut more than just another try to achieve something resembling Fleur’s performance, she was definitely getting better each time, and one step at a time. Soon, her unrefined posture made way for a well-bred filly whose devious grin slowly morphed into a slight smile—warm, but not obtrusive. From walking around the room and parading in front of the mirror, through behaving at the table and taking part in non-obliging chit-chats, back to more sauntering and strolling, Chestnut learned a great deal of managing the high society and entered the path to becoming one of the finest fillies in Canterlot.