//------------------------------// // Chapter 3: In Which Our Hero Hears a Story and Tells a Story, Both of Cutie Marks // Story: How to Win Hearts and Influence Princes // by TTU_Phoenix //------------------------------// Chapter 3: In Which Our Hero Hears a Story and Tells a Story, Both of Cutie Marks I'm reclining in one of the chairs in Blueblood's sitting room, a stack of papers resting on my legs, a pencil in my hoof, and a cup of tea sitting on a silver platter on the table next to me. Blueblood's sitting in the chair to my right, reading a big thick law book and idly stirring his tea with his magic. It is our afternoon tea break. I have gotten quite used to them over the past week, and the tea here is excellent. Maybe I should start writing a tea break into my employment contracts in the future. I sigh and lean back. I have been doing this paperwork on auto-pilot for the last fifteen minutes. It is a bunch of forms subscribing to some new academic journal, as well as the necessary forms to get the fees paid for out of the royal treasury. Useful, certainly, but the government seems to be bound and determined to hold on to their money, based on how hard they are making it to charge a simple subscription fee. Hey, I said I was good at paperwork and organization. I did not say I never get bored of it. I glance over at Blueblood. First name basis now, for both of us. “Whatcha reading?” He shuts the book and takes a sip of tea, peering at me over the rim of his cup. “Researching draconic inheritance cases from Equestrian history, looking for any unusual precedents.” “Why? Case?” “Exactly. It seems there is an extremely wealthy dragon who lives out in Las Pegasus. Movie producer, director, that sort of thing. One of the real greats. One of the advantages of living as long as a dragon means that you can take the time and wait for the perfect cast and moment for a particular movie. He recently rewrote his will, and his sons are taking the opportunity to sue for a greater share of their father's wealth.” “Really? They're suing their own father?” “Quite. I suspect their Hearth's Warming Eve dinners will be awkward for quite a long time. I am given to understand that dragons can hold grudges for a very long time. In any case, the father wishes to divide his wealth equally between his two sons. The elder son claims that, as the oldest, he should receive a greater share, while the younger son, who is physically larger, claims that he should receive the larger share, as appropriate to his greater size and thus, greed.” “So, uh... who wins?” “Well, under dragon law, any of them could win. Technically, the parents – the father, in this case – do have the right to determine inheritance as they wish. However, dragons traditionally do give a greater part of the inheritance to the eldest child, so the older son does have at least a cultural and traditional basis for his claim. On the other hoof, there have been successful legal suits – and I use the word 'suit' loosely – supporting the younger son's position. Some traditions of dragon justice have respected the rights of the larger dragon to have a commensurate horde.” I frown. “But what about Equestrian law?” He smiles and nods. “Very good, Ink. You'll make a legal scholar yet. Under Equestrian law, it's quite simple. The father wins. Equestrian law recognizes the right of the parents to determine inheritance, the case was open and shut to begin with. I just felt I should be thorough and make sure that there weren't any historical precedents that might be relevant.” “Oh.” Dang, I was hoping that that would keep me interested for longer, but it seems he is done talking, and I do not know enough about the subject to keep the conversation going. I turn back to the paperwork. “You're bored, aren't you?” I sigh. “Yeah.” He smiles. “Here, give it to me. I'll take care of it, you drink your tea. It's going to go cold. This is a tea break; you need to actually take a break, you know.” I open my mouth, then smile and hold the papers out to him. “You're right. Here.” He takes it in his magic and replaces his cup of tea. I pick mine up and take a sip as he starts scribbling away. I lean back against the chair and drink deeply from my tea, glancing over at Blueblood, the tip of his tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth as he concentrates on the forms. Stupid unicorns and their stupid magic. Makes it looks so easy, probably because it is. My curiosity's been bothering me for the last few days, so I decide to indulge it. “How did you get into this?” He turns away, still writing. “What do you mean?” “How'd you get into law? How'd you get interested in it?” He smiles. “The same way I got this.” He shifts and leans on his right side, pointing to the gold and blue compass rose on his flank with one hoof. “Your cutie mark?” “Indeed.” He raises an eyebrow. I roll my eyes. “Well, come on, tell me the story, then. You can't just leave me hanging like that.” He laughs. “If you insist. Ponies are often confused by my cutie mark. I was once asked if I was the palace cartographer. I've always thought of it representing how the law binds a nation – or nations – together, which seems fitting, since it was international law that earned me my mark.” I leaned on to the table, setting my tea cup down. Blueblood's cutie mark had come from international law... stuff? We'd certainly been doing some international law, though a lot of his cases seemed to be domestic. “I was 9 and a half years old at the time. I remember that fact quite clearly. A relative of mine – a distant uncle I can't be sure how many times removed named Quick Mind – took me on a trip to the Griffon Empire. He was there to renew a long-standing treaty with the Griffon Empire, one of many, and he brought me along. My parents thought it would be a good chance for me to see the world and experience another culture. The trip was quite long – my uncle was cursed with an extreme fear of flying, so we were forced to take a regular carriage, which extended the journey a great deal. It was not long after we had set out that I had exhausted all possible sources of amusement. My uncle was not exactly the best conversationalist, and I had either finished or grown bored with all of the books and toys I had brought with me. The scenery was pretty, but not very interesting for a colt of 9 and a half. “In desperation for something, anything, to do, I started reading my uncle's books. Despite his lack of skill at small talk, he was a prolific reader, and had brought an extensive collection of books on history, law and politics with him. Surprisingly, most of all to myself, I was enraptured. I had enjoyed my history and governance studies with a tutor, but these books were something else. The level of detail, the scope, the breadth of subject matter... I was thrilled with every new chapter. I didn't understand all of it, and a great deal of the vocabulary was beyond me, but my uncle was able to help me.” I raise an eyebrow. “Really? Dry law books fascinated you? You sound like a rather dull child.” He chuckles and waves a hoof at me. “Don't be so shocked. I can be scholarly when the mood strikes me. Our first week in the Griffon Empire was spent sightseeing. If you ever get the chance, I highly recommend visiting the Empire – it's a bit stark, but the scenery is incredible, and there's so much history there. Besides oohing and aahing over the sights, I spent my time putting my new knowledge to use, or, at least, as much as I could. I suspect I annoyed the tour guides a great deal with my constant pestering questions about Griffon culture, government, and law. My uncle thought it was all terrifically amusing.” I was resting my head on my hooves by this point, my tea cup nearly forgotten. Blueblood was a surprisingly good story teller, his little asides adding a friendly touch to what could otherwise have been a rather dull story. “Once the negotiations actually began, I shocked my caretakers by asking to sit in and listen. As before, most of it went way above my head, but I treasured the bits I could understand. I felt that I was being allowed into an adult world, given access to adult secrets. I felt very proud of how mature I was.” He raises an eyebrow, humor seeping into his tone. “After a few days, Quick Mind was kind enough to let me help by carrying and fetching books, notes, that sort of thing.” I shove a hoof into my mouth to keep myself from laughing. “Really? He made you his gofer?” Blueblood shakes his head and winks. “Not at all. He granted me the honor of being his gofer. Mostly so he didn't have to do it, the lazy codger, but still, I was thrilled. I felt that everypony was relying on me. “The negotiations dragged on for a few days. The griffons had decided to argue for more favorable terms regarding taxation in some border towns, and my uncle wanted to simply re-ratify the treaty on the same grounds as before. They got to arguing over some specifics of Equestrian international trade law and tariffs, and it seemed that they weren't making any progress. At that moment, I remembered that I'd read something about that the night before. I quietly crept out – not that I needed to bother. Griffons can be quite... liberal in their speaking volume. I dashed to my room as fast as my hooves would carry me and frantically began searching through the books I had been reading in search of the passage I wanted. Once I found it, I hurried back and, with a very self-satisfied grin on my face, plopped the tome on the table.” I raised an eyebrow. “What did they do?” “They stared at me in surprise. I'm not sure the griffon actually knew that I had been there the entire time, and Uncle Mind was completely taken aback. It was quite awkward for a few moments as we all just stared at each other. When I realized they didn't understand what I was trying to do, I decided I'd have to show them.” He smiles and takes a sip of his tea. “All of a sudden, I remember being more terrified than I had ever been in my life. It was like taking a test with the teachers watching over your shoulder. I remember my legs shaking so hard I thought they would fall off, and my throat seemed to have suddenly invited the desert in for a visit. I managed to get up onto the table without falling over, evidently through some form of miracle, and opened the book to the passage I wanted. And then, I read it and explained it as best I could. As I kept reading, I felt myself get more confident. I could do this. I knew this. Oh, I didn't understand it all, certainly, but I understood enough. When I finished, the room was quiet for... a very, very long time. Or at least it seemed that way.” He chuckles. “I suspect the griffon was still trying to get over the fact that I'd been there the whole time. Uncle Mind was shocked as well. After a moment, though, he broke into a big smile and slapped me on the withers. 'Blueblood,' he said, 'you're a natural.' At this point, I think I stammered something incomprehensible. Then he said that he wasn't the only one who thought so and pointed to my new cutie mark.” I raise an eyebrow. “What happened then?” He smirks. “I jumped about a foot in the air in surprise and fell off the table.” We both laugh. The image of a pint-sized Blueblood squealing in surprise and falling off a table, hooves flailing and eyes wide in shock, is hilarious. After settling down enough to breathe normally, I quickly gulp down the rest of my tea. It's cold, but it doesn't bother me too much. “What about you?” “Hm?” He gestures to the scroll, inkwell and quill on my flank. “Your cutie mark. How did you get it?” I shrug. “Oh, it's, uh, well... nothing so special as that. I'm not sure you'd be interested.” “Are you proud of it?” “Am I proud of what?” “How you got it. Your cutie mark. Are you proud of how you got it?” “I...” I stop. “Yes. Yes, I am.” “Then I want to hear it. If you're proud of how you got it, then it must matter to you a great deal. And if it does, then it's an important part of who you are, and I'm interested in hearing it. A story can be pedestrian or unremarkable and yet be extremely interesting, just as an extremely unlikely or exotic story can manage to be very boring.” He refills his teacup. “So spill.” I blink. The slang catches me off guard. He frowns at me. “The beans. Spill the beans. That is what ponies say when they want someone to talk or tell the truth, correct? I didn't think I was that out of touch.” I shake my head. “No, no, that's it.” I clear my throat. “So, I got mine a little earlier than you did, I was a little under nine, I think. My family was getting ready for a vacation – roadtrip to the coast, then beaches for a week. Unfortunately, my parents had procrastinated until the last minute on all the preparations, and we had a lot to do. Packing, renting a carriage, hiring a sitter for our dog and to watch the house, that sort of thing. Plus, my father had a business meeting the afternoon of the day we were planning to leave and my mother had a doctor's appointment. My parents were pretty freaked out, since they weren't sure if we'd be able to leave on time or if we'd need to delay our departure or even postpone the trip.” “I sense a 'but' coming.” I crack a smile. “Two nights before we were supposed to leave, I decided that I wanted to do something to help. Unfortunately, I wasn't old enough to actually, you know, do any of the errands on my own, so I decided to make a schedule for my parents. I got a map, a bunch of notepaper and some pencils, and I sat down at my desk to try to figure things out. I... went through quite a few drafts. But eventually, I managed to make it work. I had a pretty good sense by then of how long it took to get around the city, and I knew where all the stops we needed to make were. So I just started with the most urgent tasks, figured out where and when my parents would have to go to handle those, and then kind of branched outwards to the less urgent stuff. I ended up making an annotated map, with little notes drawn on it with arrival and departure times and routes and stuff drawn on it.” Blueblood nods appreciatively. “Sounds professional.” I rub the back of my neck. “Not so much. I mean, I was 8; it was kind of a messy scrawl, and my notes were a little sloppy, but it got the point across. I got kinda carried away, actually... I liked the little notes I wrote so much that I decided to add more notes on separate sheets of paper on what we should do if a stop took longer or shorter than we thought, and I just... didn't stop writing. I ended up falling asleep at my desk, and my mother found me when she came in to wake me up in the morning. I didn't even notice I'd gotten my cutie mark until my mother pointed it out to me.” “Did it work? Did you leave on time?” “Oh yeah, it worked great. That was when I realized that I wanted to do this more. I wanted to organize things, make things go smoothly. I've just... kept doing that.” Blueblood smiles. “A very nice story. How were the beaches?” “It rained. But it was great all the same. Where'd you go on your last vacation?” He pauses and furrows his brow. “Hmmm... I can't remember.” “When was your last vacation?” He frowns and refills his cup of tea. “I can't remember that either. Several years at least.” I gape. “You haven't been on a vacation for years? Do you even leave the castle?” He rolls his eyes. “Yes, I leave the castle. I attend social events, balls, galas, luncheons, dinners, brunches, christenings, grand openings, charity functions, auctions, holiday parties, and on occasion, parades. But, I don't... I don't leave Canterlot that much.” “Why... Why not?” Is he... scared to leave? Why else would he stay here so long without getting out at least a little? The castle's super-fancy, but anypony would go stir-crazy eventually. He shrugs. “My world is here. My work, my passion. Nopony knows Scales' real identity, and it will stay that way. As such, I cannot work in the public eye – I do all of my business by correspondence. I can't just go out and announce my secret identity; I've carefully cultivated it over years to allow me to work without interference from my social life or reputation. And besides, out there they know me, or think they do. I'm not blind to what my actions have led to, what everypony thinks of me. I'm unlikely to be well-received among the upper class, here in Canterlot or elsewhere, and my status as a member of the royal family means that most of the populace would be ill at ease around me. And so, I stay here. There's nothing for me out there.” I'm left speechless. I believe him, but at the same time I can't believe it. To stay in one place so long... I'd go nuts. “Isn't it... hard? Stifling? To see the same things, day in and day out?” He chuckles. “Clearly you've never been lost in the castle. I'm fairly certain one could spend days trying to find their way out.” He shrugs. “I keep busy all the same. My work is always interesting, and cases are rarely alike. For all its vapidity, I actually do enjoy Canterlot social life, and there's no shortage of things to do in the city.” “I guess.” I shrug. “Well, next time I take a vacation, Blueblood, you're welcome to come with me.” He smiles at me softly. “Thank you, Ink. I'd like that.” He extends his hoof, and this time, I don't hesitate before returning the hoofbump.