Serale shifted in the chair uncomfortably, feeling the itch of the gown against her as she attempted to keep a neutral expression on her face. The stallion on the floor had been droning on and on for the past fifteen minutes about some point of order that was obscure as it was useless, and it was beginning to grind on her nerves, though her mother seemed to be as attentive as she ever was when hearing cases. Thankfully, she was seated at the head of the gallery to the right hoof to her mother, mostly out of the stallion’s field of vision. Focused as he was on making a point about tax law and the potential application of tariffs to barley grown in the Solar lands, he was unaware of her heroic attempts to stifle a yawn.
Serale had been home for five days now, and had been attending Court for the past three by request of her mother, who seemed to be under the impression that her daughter would somehow manage to get herself shot at or blown up if she was left to her own devices. She let her gaze idly wander to the guards by the door, almost positive that there were more here now than there had been when she left a year ago. There had been only a pair then, hadn’t there? Not six.
“So you see, Milady, there is indeed a precedent for raising tariffs in order to allow our smaller farms to remain competitive in providing non-staple crops to the populace, as demonstrated by the case of Dundee Orchards versus Apple Family Orchards in the year 374 of Our Evening’s Reign, meaning that…”
Serale let her attention wander as well, surveying the gallery across from her, half-full as usual, mostly with lawmakers and the occasional noble representative desperate or unfortunate enough to be assigned as a representative to the Court from their Houses. She noticed that the representative from House Bluehide and House Hedera were seated a scant two seats from one another, which was unusual, seeing as they usually competed for business from the Courts. Perhaps they were considering an alliance in this matter? Of course, it could have been a ploy by one House to suggest they were weak enough to ally in the hopes that a competitor would make a foolish move.
The young unicorn groaned internally. She was bored enough that she was engaging in House politics. Surely there were better things she could be doing with her time than sitting in the throne room, listening to somepony pontificate on a two percent increase in taxation on foreign barley. Her stomach growled softly, reminding her that she hadn’t yet eaten, having woken up late this morning and left for the Court in a rush. Thankfully for her, the current supplicant was the last one scheduled before the midday recess, and she would have several glorious hours to eat and enjoy herself doing other things before she was required to be in here again.
Twilight Sparkle held up a hoof, cutting the stallion off. She was about to speak, and the shifting ponies in the stands to either side of her grew silent and still.
“Thank you, Mister Leaven. I believe you’ve given me quite enough information on the subject to ensure that I make an acceptable decision,” she said, her voice ringing out into the hall with composure and force that Serale had never been able to replicate.
Twilight Sparkle looked to her scribe for the day, the one who noted down the decisions she made. Returning her gaze to the pony in front of her, she made her choice. “Although I cannot recommend a raise of two percent in the taxes of barley, I agree with your view on the subject, that they should be raised in order to help our farms remain competitive. Therefore, I will ask that tariffs be raised one point three percent, which allows for an easing of pressure on the farmers without raising the overall price of barley too high, something which we must be careful to avoid. Will that be sufficient?”
Leaven, an Earl of no real importance, was being offered a very generous deal, and he knew it. He was lucky to be receiving such an opportunity, as his crop of barley was usually both more expensive and lower quality than the stuff imported from Equestria proper. There was a murmur of surprise from the Court at this decision from those who paid attention to that sort of thing. Raising tariffs had led to conflict with the Solar government more than once.
“That will more than suffice, Milady. I thank you.”
Twilight Sparkle inclined her head magnanimously. “You have come a long way to plead your case, Earl Leaven. I respect your determination and persistence in requesting an audience. Please, rest in the Regia tonight before returning home. Your case is closed. The midday recess is hereby announced.”
The doors to the hall swung open, and Serale rose with the rest of the nobility to exit the throne room, enjoying the swell of quiet conversation from the room as the assorted nobles began to discuss what the legislation passed today meant for their Houses. Lady Everstar had been unusually agreeable with the Earl, and extending him such a blunt invitation would surely cause some rumors to begin circulating among the more lascivious of the gossips who had attended today.
She was approached by one of the guards who had been standing by the doors. “Milady Serale? Your presence is requested by Lady Everstar. Please remain behind.”
Serale stopped short. She looked at the guard, raising an eyebrow. “I see. Did my mother indicate why she needed me here?”
To his credit, the guard remained absolutely stone faced when confronted with Serale’s displeasure. “I believe she wished to take her meal with you, Lady Serale. Shall I inform her you have other plans?”
Serale sighed. “No, I don’t have other plans. Very well. I’ll stay here.”
She found a nearby seat and waited for the hall to clear out, which was a lengthy enough process as it was. At last, the doors were closed, leaving the room empty save for her mother and herself, at opposite ends of the hall.
“Serale,” came her mother’s voice, not raised but still somehow audible from her throne, “Come here.”
Serale did as she was told, approaching the throne and stopping a respectful distance away from the dais. “I was told you wanted me here for lunch?” she asked.
Now it was Twilight’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Indeed,” she said. “No need to be so formal. I can assure you that I don’t want anything from you, just a chance to catch up. Aside from your welcoming dinner the night you got back, we’ve hardly seen each other. And formal dinners aren’t exactly good for intimate conversation.”
“True,” Serale allowed, “But it’s still a bit unusual. Do you usually take lunch here?”
Twilight’s horn lit up, and a table just short of large appeared in front of her along with two chairs, able to seat four or six if necessary. A bell sounded, and from one of the side doors came a procession of servants, carrying soups, sandwiches, salad, and other light foods along with drinks. “It depends on how I’m feeling. Sometimes I eat here; sometimes I have food brought to my study.”
Serale had never been to her mother’s study, but like everypony else, she had heard the stories of what wondrous things were kept in that locked and warded room at the top of the highest tower. The door itself hadn’t unlocked in years, as Twilight preferred to simply blink right into it. Long distance teleportation was difficult enough, but she had somehow warded the room so that if anypony else were to attempt it, they would find themselves appearing in a specially designed cell in the palace dungeons with a splitting headache.
Serale approached the table, seating herself without help from the servants, who were too slow to stop her from pulling out her own chair and sitting down.
“May I serve you, Lady Serale?” one of them asked, a young unicorn colt who could hardly have been old enough for the job. He looked petrified.
Serale smiled at him. “Thank you, but no. You’ve done well enough, you are dismissed.”
He withdrew along with the rest of the servants, who knew better than to try and serve Lady Everstar her own food. Among the nobility, she was known as the most self-sufficient, and Luna help the poor soul who tried to coddle her.
“So,” Twilight asked, taking a sandwich and a ladle of soup. “Are you settling back in? Does the Regia feel familiar again?”
“Incredibly so,” Serale replied, serving herself a plate of salad. She’d felt stifled the moment she walked into the main hall from the airship field. “It’s like I never left at all.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Twilight said, missing the point completely. “I’d hate for you to feel unhappy when you’re back home.”
“You certainly seem to be more welcoming,” Serale replied, “Offering the Earl the opportunity to stay here in front of the Court like that.”
Twilight said nothing, choosing merely to chew on her food while her eyes sparkled at Serale, as if to indicate that she had not the slightest idea what her daughter was talking about.
Serale rolled her eyes. “Is it really necessary to hand the gossip-mongers something like that? Ponies will talk.”
Twilight swallowed. “Well, Earl Leaven is a rather nice pony. A good head for business, handsome enough, kind to his House, really everything one could look for in a marriage.”
“He’s twice your age!” Serale said. She hesitated, considering what she had just said. “Well, perhaps not your actual age, but definitely more than twice your physical age.”
“The longer I live, the less I find myself caring about that sort of thing,” Twilight said. “Besides, I merely pointed out that he is an excellent prospect for marriage, I never said I was going to marry the poor fool.”
Serale shuddered. “Good. You could definitely do better than the Earl.”
“And what about you?” Twilight asked. “Any loves at first sight I should know about in your week at Court?”
“Is that what this is about?” Serale asked. “Why you asked me to lunch?”
Her mother laughed. “Oh, goodness no!” Twilight giggled. “Not at all! I was merely curious, is all.”
Serale sighed. “No, Mother. Nopony has tried to sweep me off of my hooves since I arrived. Your daughter’s honor is safe. I’ve not even had the time to go anywhere besides my quarters and the Court.”
Twilight nodded. “I know. I’ve been getting you to Court for a reason, you know.”
The younger unicorn frowned. “How do you mean?”
Twilight’s expression went from pleasant to exasperated. “Surely you didn’t think I brought you here to keep an eye on you?”
Serale blushed. That had been exactly what she thought. “Well,” she said, “I didn’t exactly realize…”
Her mother set her sandwich down. “Serale, I brought you into Court so you could see how things work here,” she said, “To allow you time to understand where ponies stand in the Court. You’re here to help prepare you for the trial, or did you forget about it?”
Serale flushed an even brighter red. That had been the exact reason she was losing sleep at night. When she wasn’t being bored to death by the supplicants brought to the Court, she was busy worrying about the upcoming trial, and how Cobblestone was going to handle it.
“I hadn’t realized I was going to speak there,” she replied. “I thought it was only going to be Cobblestone.”
Twilight shook her head. “You, Cobblestone, and Libra were the three involved in the Crescent City incident. We’d have brought in the attackers as well, but, well…”
“They self-immolated,” Serale said. “I’d wanted to speak to you about that, by the way. Do you know of a spell that can do that? Cause you to burst into flame on command? Libra didn’t seem to know, but you’ve got more experience in the matter than she does.”
“No,” Twilight replied, “That’s what worries me. For unicorns, yes. For Pegasi, no. This is one of the reasons we need to have this trial in a public Court, to satisfy the nobility and to hopefully tempt our conspirator into making a foolhardy move once they realize they’ve left themselves exposed.”
“And what happens when they do?” Serale asked.
Twilight gave her daughter a rueful grin. “I actually needed to speak to you about that. Libra has proven time and again that she can handle herself if something goes wrong, and Cobblestone is in protective custody. I’d like you to consider the possibility of forming a personal guard.”
“A…personal guard?” Serale asked, confused. “As opposed to the regular Guard?”
Twilight nodded. “Exactly. A dedicated group of ponies to protect you without needing to worry about the potential of being reassigned or additional duties. You’d have a say in the selection process, but I’d like to approve the final roster when all is said and done.”
Serale held up a hoof. “Hang on. What if I don’t want a personal guard?”
“You need one,” her mother replied. “There’s already been an attempt on your life, two if we’re considering the rather inconvenient ‘accident’ that crippled the riverboat. And you’ll be leaving the Regia in a few months, so you’ll be getting a detachment of soldiers then. Wouldn’t it be better for you to know who they were before then?”
Serale searched wildly for another objection before she realized that she had played right into her mother’s hooves. Again. She couldn’t argue against the fact that she needed protection, and she couldn’t refuse at this point without looking like a petulant child at best. She sighed.
“Fine. I choose them, no help from an advisor. How many did you want me to pick?”
Twilight shrugged. “At least ten, I’d prefer around thirty. And try not to pull them all from one group. For one, it will overspecialize them, and for another, I don’t want to have an entire troop of soldiers reorganized because a platoon went missing.”
“Thirty!” Serale exclaimed. “You want a guard of thirty troops for me?”
Twilight held up a conciliatory hoof. “I understand it seems excessive, but it’s better to remain safe than sorry in this case.”
Serale felt heat rising in her chest. “Thirty! That’s not a guard, that’s an entire troop in and of itself! Guards, spellcasters, officers…what do you think warrants a guard of thirty?”
“You know full well the answer to that,” Twilight said. “Thirty seems light to me. I would have selected fifty, but I know how much you value your freedom of movement, despite your assurances that you are, in fact, happy to be home.”
Serale winced. “Was I that obvious?” she asked.
“You were positively transparent,” Twilight replied, “And clearly out of practice after a year away from Court. You could not have looked more bored if you tried. You’ll need to work on that before you leave, otherwise the foreign Courts will eat you alive.”
Serale’s face flushed, and her pulse pounded in her ears. “May I be excused?” she asked, her meal quite forgotten and anger rising in her chest.
Twilight waved a hoof. “Take the day off. Go calm yourself down, consider the proposal, and return to me after morning Court tomorrow. Understood?”
Serale nodded, pushing her chair back and hurrying out of the throne room, leaving her mother alone in the massive empty space.
Twilight sighed, returning to her meal, which tasted like ash in her mouth. One day her daughter would get herself into more trouble than she could handle, she just knew it.
“You may begin!” the line sergeant said, and the prone ponies on the ground began gently squeezing their triggers, the rifles cracking as they sent shots downrange. Each rifle was relatively new, featuring a five-round “clip” that allowed for the expulsion of each round’s shell and the reloading of a new round, simply by sliding a bolt backward and then forward again. The exercise today was practicing the accurate fire of ten rounds at an acceptable rate without jamming. Each shooter was being graded on accuracy and time combined, so it would do no good to sacrifice one for the other.
Serale watched as the enlisted ponies took aim at their targets and fired, impressed by the speed with which they spent their ammunition and reloaded their rifles. Her right hoof itched, and she felt herself leaning forward into a firing stance almost instinctively. She had to get her hooves on one of those and give it a try.
The shots tapered off, and Serale stepped forward. They had been finishing their exercises for the day, so she wouldn’t be interrupting their practice if she engaged them now. Her eyes met the eyes of the line sergeant, which widened in recognition as he stiffened.
“Third Troop Second Line, tench-hut!” he snapped, and each and every one of them snapped to instinctively. He saluted her rigidly. "Lady Serale, ma’am! Are you here for inspection?”
Serale motioned for him to put his hoof down. “You and your ponies can relax, sergeant. I was here admiring the new rifles. They weren’t in use when I left, and I’m something of an enthusiast. Would you mind terribly if I tried my hoof at using one?”
The sergeant shook his head. “No, ma’am. I’m afraid we don’t have any spares available, but we do have ammunition for you if you wish to use a soldier’s weapon.”
Serale smiled, brightly. “Excellent!”
She turned to the waiting soldiers. “Would one of you be so good as to lend me the use of your weapon?”
The closest soldier stepped forward, offering his. “Be careful, Milady. This has a bit more kick than a target rifle.”
Serale’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Is that so? Do you think me unable to use it effectively, corporal?”
The stallion blanched. “Not at all, ma’am! Just a friendly warning, is all.”
Serale took a deep breath, collecting herself. It wouldn’t do her any good to snap at a pony for a minor breach of etiquette. She smiled. “My apologies, corporal. Perhaps you’re right.”
An idea came to her. “Perhaps you’d like to engage in a friendly competition? I always tend to do better when shooting against another pony.”
The stallion shuffled his hooves nervously. “I don’t think that would be proper, ma’am.”
“Nonsense. I insist,” Serale said, “Just to show there are no hard feelings. No harm done, just a friendly competition. What do you say?” Her smile grew, and she rummaged into the bag at her side, withdrawing a gold piece. “I’ll put this up against anypony who outshoots me.”
The stallion’s eyes widened. “Alright, ma’am. I’ll take that bet.”
Serale turned to the sergeant. “Is that alright, Sergeant? Extra incentive for practice?”
The sergeant shrugged. “So long as it has your approval, I see no issue with it. Our last exercise concluded our training for the day, and we were heading back to barracks from the castle range.”
Serale turned to another pony. “Then may I borrow your rifle, private? The corporal needs the use of his.”
The private proffered his rifle silently, and Serale ran a quick check over it for dirt, rust, or cracks, all of which she had dealt with before.
“Are you ready, Corporal?” she asked.
The corporal nodded. “Yes, Milady.”
Serale walked to the line, unslinging the rifle from her back as she did so. She turned to the corporal. “It’s a friendly contest, soldier. Smile.”
The corporal gave an uncertain grin, sinking into the prone position further down the line from her as he did so. The sergeant’s horn lit up, draping two new targets downrange. “Each of you has two clips to fire in as short a time as you can. Accuracy is graded as well. Are you ready to begin?”
Serale held up one hoof, fiddling with the sights on hers. “These are a bit misaligned,” she said. Finally, she was satisfied. “Alright. Ready.”
“Begin,” the sergeant said.
Serale sighted down the barrel of the rifle, to the sights at the end. She lined up with the center of the target, as she had been told. She corrected for wind, raised her barrel slightly, and fired.
The rifle rocked gently against her shoulder as the bullet flew downfield, striking the center of the target precisely. She worked the bolt, expelling the shell and slotting a new round into place. She fired again, just in time to hear her opponent fire his first round. It too hit the center of the target, almost exactly where she had put the first one. She worked and fired again. And again. Her opponent fired his second round. She fired her fifth and final round just as he fired his third, and slid the bolt back, ejecting the clip as she reached for the new one and slotted it in.
She fired again, grouping her shots together while maintaining her steady pace, just like she had been taught. She worked the rifle again and felt something catch. A round had jammed. She snorted in annoyance, and pulled the bolt back, smacking one hoof against the side to re-seat the round. She felt rather than saw it settle into position, and the bolt came forward again smoothly. This had cost her, though, and her opponent had already fired his first round from the new clip by the time she got her second out.
The competition became a race, with Serale slightly in the lead. She kept calm, sending her third and fourth rounds into the same tight group before focusing exactly on the center of the target, gripping her rifle tight before sending a final round right into the same spot she had put her first. She held one hoof up, signaling her completion just as the corporal sighted and fired his last round.
The soldiers behind her made not a sound, staring wide-eyed at the targets as the sergeant brought them forward. The corporal had shot very well, with the exception of two or three shots that deviated from center, but he had shot like a novice compared to Serale. There were individual holes, but they existed around the edge of tattered paper that formed a hole around the size of Serale’s hoof, perhaps a bit smaller.
Serale smiled when she saw it. Mother had told her to calm down, and shooting was one of the best ways to relieve stress that she knew. The new guns fired like a dream, she’d proven to herself that she was at least able to defend herself competently, and she’d managed to clear her mind of the upcoming trial and her mother’s schemes for at least a while. A net win, all things considered.
She offered her hoof. “Well shot, Corporal. Better than a lot of the ponies I used to shoot with in the Rifle Club. What’s your name?”
“Corporal Pillar, ma’am,” the Earth pony replied, taking her hoof and shaking it. His mane, close-cropped and blond, was dappled with sweat and dirt, like much of his body. “A pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Serale said. “A pleasure.”
She thought for a moment. Truth be told, the corporal was one of the better shots she’d seen in years, even using the new rifle. And there was something about him that she liked very much indeed. “I’d like to speak to you in private, Corporal,” she said, “About your duties here at the Regia.”
Cobblestone stared at the encyclopedia before her, turned to a picture of some sort of exotic flower, before closing the book with a thud and a sigh. She’d been here for five days, and while the house was large and the ponies that worked in it were kind, she was going stir-crazy. The garden was small, and she was not allowed out without a guard. The workers were pleasant but would not carry on a conversation, and every offer of help she made was met with polite refusal, including things like laundry, dusting, and cleaning. Cobblestone would have been happy to do any and all of those chores if it would provide some measure of relief from the boredom that was day to day existence in the house. Even the meals were bland, and the same every day. If she had to eat one more plate of boiled string beans and mashed potatoes without any seasoning, she was going to go insane.
It was made worse by the presence of Hob, who she could feel keeping close tabs on her without actually being seen. More than once she had quickly turned around just in time to catch a black tail vanishing around a corner, and she knew that the cat was never more than a room or hallway away from her, even when she slept, which was often, seeing as it was one of the few things she could do to relieve boredom.
She briefly considered going outside to get some exercise for the third time that day, but decided against it. There were only so many sprints or pushups she could do in a day without feeling like an idiot, and she wasn’t allowed to run too fast or else she could lose sight of her “chaperones”. Nor could she sew anything, as that would require the use of a needle, which she was not allowed to have. Same went for a whittling knife and numerous other implements that could be used for her escape. She was supervised while using a fork, for Luna’s sake.
And Serale hadn’t visited. The first two or three days had been understandable, seeing as she surely had obligations and needed to settle back in, but five days was a bit much. It was possible that she was busy, being one of the most important nobles, but Cobblestone couldn’t help feeling a bit hurt. It was almost like she was being forgotten here, kept in comfort but otherwise ignored completely. That combined with the padded, supervised environment she found herself in got under her skin more than anything else.
She was scheduled to be seen in two days. That was the one thing that she had to look forward to here. Cobblestone sighed, trotting to the nearby window, which overlooked the garden and the street below. It was nailed shut and made of thick glass, but she still enjoyed spending some time in front of it now and again. She spent some time watching passerby, trying to guess at their business. Soldiers were obvious, nobles less so, and those who would be deemed as “common” were as varied in purpose as they were in appearance.
She frowned as a large carriage painted in red with golden vines pulled up in front of the house, and the coachman scrambled to the door, which he opened, folding down a set of gilded stairs before moving to one side. As she watched, an imperious looking mare in expensive clothing stepped out of the coach, her fine featured wrinkled against the sunlight until the coachman handed her a parasol and a small basket from inside the vehicle, which she accepted gratefully.
She approached the guards on duty and began speaking with them, smiling and laughing to a conversation Cobblestone couldn’t hear. She frowned, trying to read the noble’s lips from a distance with no success. One of the guards accepted a small scroll from the mare, which he unfurled and began to scan.
Suddenly there was horrendous pressure on her mind, and Cobblestone fell back from the window, clutching at her head as a voice began to speak loudly.
Cobblestone! Listen to me! That mare out there is dangerous.
“Hob?” she grunted. “How are you…”
I’ve had to overwhelm your mental defenses, the voice said, But there’s no time! You have to listen!
Cobblestone said nothing, merely thinking her agreement at the cat, all she was capable of doing.
Take nothing from her unless she has eaten or drank it first. Accept gifts so long as they don’t come with a promise, and whatever you do, don’t agree to any deals she makes you. Do you understand?
Cobblestone nodded as the pressure let up. “I understand,” she said, “But what makes her dangerous?”
No time to explain. I’ll be nearby just in case. And keep your mental defenses up while she’s here. She’s not a magic user, but I don’t trust her.
All at once, the pressure vanished, and Cobblestone slowly straightened out, looking out the window just in time to see the guard hand the scroll back to the mare and let her through the gate. The well-dressed mare walked gracefully up the garden path, and Cobblestone heard her knock on the door.
Silently, she prepared herself to meet…whoever it was that had shown up downstairs. She checked her reflection in the glass, pulled herself together, and walked out into the hallway, ready to meet this strange and supposedly dangerous individual.
“Miss Cobblestone?” a voice called. It belonged to Charity, one of the maids who worked here. “There’s somepony here to see you!”
Cobblestone broke into a trot, heading down the staircase to the front hall, taking deep breaths as she did so. She took the last few steps two at a time, and stepped out into the hall just in time to see the door close behind the well-dressed mare, whose face lit up upon seeing her.
Charity smiled demurely as she made introductions. “Lady Hedera, this is Cobblestone, our guest here. Cobblestone, this is Lady Aura Hedera, the head of House Hedera.”
Lady Hedera smiled at her, her expression warm and open. “Hello, Cobblestone. It’s good to meet you.”
She held up the basket. “I’ve been wanting to speak to you. Have you eaten? I’ve brought lunch.”