Lord Mayor Applejack

by MyHobby


Formal Attire * Nectar of the Gods

(*): Carousel Boutique had grown into quite the little empire. There were three branches: Canterlot, which was run by Rarity herself; Manehatten, which had Coco Pommel's expertise at the helm; and the original Ponyville branch, where Sweetie Belle was doing quite well for herself.

Applejack struggled into the dress Rarity had insisted on packing for her. It fit perfectly, of course, since Rarity’s skill at the craft had only grown since she moved to Canterlot (*). The problem came from Applejack’s chronic unfamiliarity with wearing finery. She just wasn’t interested in gussying up most of the time. Fancy dresses and applebucking just don’t mix.

By the same measure, old cowpony hats and fancy to-dos didn’t much mix either.

She grunted as the last remnants of rebellious fabric slid over her muscular frame. It was cute, she decided as she looked into a full-length mirror. Very cute. Kind of flashy, though.

Maybe it was the sequins that made it stand out.

She raised her eyes to Princess Celestia, who was adorning herself with the crown she had worn at Twilight Sparkle’s coronation. Celestia noticed Applejack looking at her and grinned. “It was a gift from Izod.”

“It’s almost as big as his,” Applejack said. She slid a flower—an apple blossom, to be precise—behind her ear. “Looks better on somepony with alicorn proportions.”

“That was almost a flattering compliment.” Celestia raised an eyebrow as she examined herself in a mirror. “I’d say it would have been, if not for the pony speaking it.”

Applejack’s lips parted. She frowned and turned to the ground. “Sorry.”

Celestia sat next to Applejack. She blew a breath through her lips. “I know Izod is exasperating, but we need to be the ones who know better.” She smiled. “We need to be willing to be the better mare.”

“An’ set a good example as fits our position?” Applejack snorted. “Eeyup. Can do, Princess. Just sit me on the opposite end of the table from Izod, an’ we’ll be peachy.”

“I expect you to be polite to everybody tonight,” Celestia said. “Including—especially—Izod and Andean. Even if they are not polite to you. Understood?”

Applejack felt her lips start to curl back of their own accord, but she forced herself to maintain a straight face. “Ah get it. Yer Majesty.”

Celestia’s eyebrows angled up. “Although, it wouldn’t hurt to sit you a few chairs down from them. It would keep the temptation at bay, at least.”

Applejack watched the princess’ eyes trail to somewhere on the far wall. She bowed her head. “Ah appreciate it.”

Celestia put a gold-shoed hoof on Applejack’s shoulder. “Applejack, the most brutally honest of ponies.” She grinned. “But also the most uncompromisingly dependable.”

Applejack slid a lock of her golden mane over her shoulder to hang beside her chest. It was slightly curled at the ends, bouncing as she stepped forward. “You think Megan’s doin’ alright?”

“I’m sure it’s hard,” Celestia said. She patted a little blush on her cheeks. “We must do our best to show her that we mean no harm.”

Applejack took a step back and looked herself up and down in the mirror. Not half-bad. She turned to Celestia. “You ready?”

Celestia nodded as she opened the door with a glimmer of magic. The two mares trotted down the Egg’s hallways, towards the dining room. Celestia’s transparent dress sparkled in the evening light from the windows, while Applejack’s silky dress shimmered against the torchlight.

“You’re being obtuse, breezie,” Applejack heard a sharp voice say from around a corner. “Why is this so hard to understand!?”

“Vhe can noot geeve soomting foor nooting,” Seabreeze said. Applejack imagined the High Pariah was crossing his skinny little forelegs. “Oonless there is soomting to trade, then vhe can noot trade.”

“You prancing little b—”

Celestia rounded the corner and came face-to-face with King Andean Ursagryff. His head jerked back and his eyes widened, though he was quick to cover it up with a level glare. Celestia’s gaze flickered between Andean and Seabreeze, a practiced, tiny smile on her face.

“Is there something wrong?” she asked.

Seabreeze’s mouth opened wide, but Andean beat him to the punch. “Nothing that the two of us are not capable of handling, Princess.”

Seabreeze shouldered his way past Andean, which by pony standards amounted to a butterfly trying to shoulder aside a bear. It was an admirable effort. “I think vhe are doone here.”

“No, we’re not,” Andean hissed. He narrowed his already quite-steely eyes. “We’ll just be completing our business in a more private area.”

Seabreeze tapped the side of his head. “Maybe when eyew get et through eyewr skull that eyew’re gooing to have to trade foor the ambrosia—”

“A private area!” Andean marched off, his neck feathers rustling and his wings twitching at his sides. “At a later date!”

Seabreeze, with all the refined poise afforded a High Pariah from Breezy Bastion, blew a raspberry at the retreating griffon.

Celestia kept her face stoic, though Applejack noticed the slight wrinkle beside her eyes. “Andean wants to open up trade with Breezy Bastion?”

Applejack brought her attention to the breezie, and nearly burst out with laughter. The small pony wore a perfectly-tailored, black tuxedo that hugged his form almost as tight as his traditional bodysuit. Gold buttons dotted the front and the cuffs, and he wore a ruffled silk bowtie around his neck.

And that red cummerbund around his waist was stinking adorable.

“Noo.” Seabreeze shook his head, his curly pink mane bouncing. “Noo, not with that attitude. Eef he doose noot want to trade what vhe want, then he can noot get what they want!”

Applejack bit back a sarcastic remark. She hadn’t actually thought of one yet, but she was sure it was forthcoming. “What does he wanna trade?”

“Ambrosia,” Celestia said. “The main export of Breezy Bastion.”

“The oonly export worth talking aboot.” Seabreeze snorted. “I told him we’d be glad to part with a few liters for a few tons of iron. He doosn’t seem to think that the healing of wounds is as important as keeping his metal central.”

Applejack watched with wide eyes as the breezie’s face grew purple. She felt the need to say something before the little guy popped like a hot potato. “Ah’m sure he’ll come around. Nopony wants to go without ambrosia fer long.”

“The griffons have gone without ambrosia since it was discovered,” Celestia said. She glanced to the hallway Andean had vanished into, then continued her walk to the dining room. “In any case, We’d best make our way to the others. I find myself very interested in what Megan has to say.”


Applejack found herself placed between Seabreeze and Zipporah, who were in the midst of a conversation that didn’t quite include her.

“I’m joost saying,” Seabreeze said, “that eyewr people could stand to benefit froom oopening trade with Breezy Bastion.”

Applejack mused that one of the High Pariah’s main duties was most likely shilling the local goods. The little breezie had been lugging around a small, twenty-ounce bottle of the glowing amber liquid known as ambrosia, and explaining—in depth—why it was awesome.

“Ambrosia sounds like the greatest of cures,” Zipporah said, “but I am unversed in how it works.”

Applejack kept her eyes focused on her empty plate as she waited for dinner to start. If she focused on the plate, she was less likely to roll her eyes at the two competing silly accents. She blinked, and thought that maybe it was best that she kept her mouth shut.

(1): Ambrosia was brewed by the breezies at Breezy Bastion. Ingredients included pollen and nectar from Equestria (which made up the bulk of their trade agreement), breezie magic, various vitamins and minerals, and incidentally, breezie spit.

“The magic inside the nectar increases the metabolism of the body’s cells,” Seabreeze explained. “and the nootrients in the meexture feed the cells. The two work together to jumpstart the healing of injuries and wounds.” (1)

(2): The Donkeys of Lightninggale were longstanding trade partners with Breezy Bastion, having done so almost as long as Equestria itself. Breezies made good use of the donkeys' silks and potatoes.

Applejack wished desperately for a hat to pull down over her eyes. As she had walked to her seat, she had heard the spiel told to the zebras sitting around her, to the minotaurs, and to herself in a moment of idle conversation (2). It was getting the slightest bit old.

As Zipporah spoke, her rhymes seemed to get that much more forced. “An exceptional brew, for diseases, too?”

Seabreeze pursed his lips. “Weeell… Bacterial diseases, eeyes. Eyew doon’t want to feed ambrosia to, foor instance, a cancer patient.”

Applejack raised an eyebrow and jumped at the first piece of new information in the last hour. “Why’s that?”

Seabreeze tapped his hooves together. “Exponential cellular growth. Same reason why et’s soo good for wounds.”

Applejack grimaced. “Ah can see how that might be a problem.”

She looked to the head of the table, where Megan would be sitting. Eventually. The rumor floating around the dining hall was that there were a few “technical difficulties” regarding the dress she was going to wear. Things like what constituted nudity, why sleeves existed, how low should the hemline be, etc.

A creaking sound from above signaled that the large, glass skylight was being opened. An angular, scaly head poked through, a smile on its lips. Shard draped herself across the top of the Egg and let her head and forelegs dangle into the dining room. “Did I miss anything?”

“Nothin’ that I’m sure won’t be repeated again. And again.” Applejack grinned at her own private joke. Nobody else did, but that’s why it was private.

Scribble, scribble, scribble.

“Eyew’d best keep eyewr distance,” Seabreeze grumbled. “Wouldn’t want to knock the table oover weeth a sneeze.”

Shard bared every single one of her teeth, causing most of the room to shiver. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Another chill flew through the room as Andean slammed a door open, nearly sending Zipporah’s companion Za’rapha flying. Two griffon soldiers followed close behind, bows strapped across their back and quivers of softly-glowing arrows belted to their sides. The griffon guards stood against the wall beside the pony guards, while Andean took a seat across from Izod.

Izod shrunk in his chair until only his eyes and his hat showed above the table. “Hi.”

Andean slid a talon into a bag that was tied around his waist. He pulled out his two smooth rocks and rolled them around in his grip. He then took a pebble in each hand, tossed them into the air, and watched as they came together with a resounding “clack!

He turned to Celestia and grabbed the rocks as they fell. “When can we expect the honored guest to arrive?”

“Soon, I believe.” Celestia narrowed her eyes at the rocks. She raised an eyebrow as she turned her gaze to Andean’s eyes. “Feeling better?”

Andean smirked. “Slightly.” He looked across the table and pointed a talon at Seabreeze. “What of it, breezie? Have you reconsidered?”

“I can noot.” Seabreeze crossed his forelegs. He stood in front of his bottle of ambrosia, doing absolutely nothing to hide it from the griffon’s view. “Et would be impossible to joost geeve you the medicine. Vhe need a trade.”

Celestia leaned in. “If I may, a few tons of iron is a hill of beans compared to the ambrosia you could—”

“You may not,” Andean said. He peered at Zipporah out of the corner of his eye. “I believe I have had my fill of being told I am in the wrong.”

Celestia frowned. “I was not implying that—”

“On purpose?” Andean scowled. “Then consider your words before you speak them, Princess.” He linked his talons together and put his elbows on the table. “I would think a thousand years on the throne would have taught you a thing or two about that.”

“Hey!” Mangle stood up and pushed his chair back in a single motion. “Lay off.”

Andean rolled the smooth stones around in his talon. He grasped one between two toes and examined it. “Or what?”

“Or…” Mangle bit his lower lip. “Or else.”

Andean smiled a faux-friendly smile. “Let’s not kid ourselves, President. You know what will happen.”

The hair on Applejack’s neck stood up as she saw the griffon guards paw at their bows. A rattle of metal to the side indicated that Care and Caution were shifting their weight. Behind her chair, she could hear Aspen whispering to the single donkey guard. Minotaur muscles bulged.

“Mangle”—Celestia’s voice took a firm tone—“please take a seat.”

Mangle gave her a sidelong glance, nodded, and then settled himself down.

Seabreeze tightened his grip on his bottle. “Now… maybe vhe can coome to an agreement aboot the ambrosia. Maybe eyew have soomting vhe need that isn’t iron.”

He tapped his hooves together. “Though the iron vhood be very nice.”

Andean rolled his eyes. “Children,” he chuckled. “It is as I thought.” He leaned his foreleg on the table. “You are all nothing but children. Aren’t they, Celestia?”

Silence followed. Celestia said nothing, instead keeping her eyes and Andean’s locked together. She opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the door opening.

Aida walked through, a satisfied smile on her face. She was followed closely by Megan, who wore a dress with ruffles that ran from her shoulders to her waist. A small, pink heart sat in the middle of her chest.

She looked just the slightest bit miserable. “Must I wear this?”

“Nope!” Aida said. “You can take it off at any time!”

Megan clutched at her stomach and pursed her lips together. “Maybe not.”

She sat at the head of the table, in plain view of the entire gathering. Shard’s faint scribble, scribble, scribble sounded out from the skylight. Megan’s eyes widened at the sight of the dragon. “Um”—she pointed—“is it safe?”

“Don’t mind me,” Shardscale said. “Just taking notes.”

Megan nodded. “Mm, hmm.” She tapped the tips of her fingers together. “You’ll have to forgive me, but you all look a little tense.”

Celestia sighed and pulled forth a smile with visible effort. “Please, Megan, tell us about yourself.”

“Of… course.” Megan’s face scrunched up as she pressed a hand to her stomach. “Well, my family is traveling across the country. There just weren’t many opportunities in the city anymore. You understand, right?”

“Perfectly. Cities can often grow beyond their own capacity,” Celestia said. “So you decided to start anew?”

“Well, my father and mother did.” Megan shifted in her seat. “I don’t think my brother much liked it.”

Applejack put a hoof on the table. “Ah know it ain’t easy to part with what yah know. Where yah headed?”

“To a new farm my father bought. In the frontier.” Megan’s face turned a light shade of green. “My mother thought we should wait until the railroad is finished, but father said that it would be years before they made it all the way to the west.”

Applejack’s mouth dropped open. She looked at Celestia in time to see her left ear twitch downward. “A railroad?” the princess asked.

“Yes. With trains and tracks and that sort of thing.”

A few waiters rolled out a cart full of a variety of foods, their eyes trained on the guards standing around the room. Applejack followed a particularly appetizing bowl of herbal soup as it rounded the table. As it passed before Za’rapha, she noticed the zebra slowly lowering his hoof into the bag slung across his shoulder.

Mangle popped a knuckle. “They’ve got to be pretty beefy trains to get over those mountains you were talking about.”

Megan’s brow furrowed. “A-actually, they’d go through them. I think.”

“Well, it’d still take some doing to get through the ranges,” Mangle said, “with all that up and down and stuff.”

“No, I mean through the mountains.” Megan’s eyes unfocused for a moment. She shook her head and did her best to smile. “We’d just blast through them. The whole track would be leveled out.” Her mouth twitched as a giant slab of ham was placed before her. “Most of it.”

Andean’s beak scrapped against itself with the sound of metal being sharpened. The steak of some unidentifiable animal was set on his plate. “Blast through? With what? Not magic, most assuredly.”

Megan was given a bunch of strawberries. “Gunpowder.”

Andean idly tapped a talon on the table. “I’m unfamiliar with that term.”

“It’s…” Megan lifted her fists. “It’s like a black powder that—that creates a big blast when you set it on fire.” Her fingers leaped outward to illustrate her point.

The griffon king leaned forward. “How big a blast?”

Celestia clapped a hoof on the table. “Andean.”

“How big a blast!?” Andean growled.

Megan shrunk into her seat and swallowed. Applejack lifted herself up and prepared to charge across the table if necessary.

“M-more gunpowder,” Megan stammered, “b-bigger blast.”

“Andean!” Celestia said. “If you will not treat our guest with respect, you will be removed! Do I make myself clear?”

Andean sat up. He turned slowly and gave Celestia a cool smile. “You do. Princess.” He looked back at Megan. “As does Megan. Hers is a species that would blow holes in mountains rather than lay a few thousand feet of track.” He grinned. “Did you hear!? They blow holes clean through mountains with powder! And they say our magic is witchcraft!”

“It’s not magic,” Megan whispered.

“No?” Andean stood up and began to walk along the table. Each diplomat that he passed felt a chill run down their spine. “Then enlighten us, darling Megan. What is this powder if not magic? Is it found or made? Is it easy to make, or does it require intense training? How expensive, how cheap?”

“Hey.” Mangle pushed his chair out and blocked Andean’s path. “Lay off.”

“Oh yes,” Andean said. He rose on his hind legs, towering over the minotaur. “We must be good little children, shouldn’t we?” He looked at Celestia and snorted. “Can’t do anything that would upset mommy, can we?”

He poked a talon in Mangle’s chest. “What’s wrong, brat? Waiting to see what mommy tells you to do?”

Mangle punched Andean in the jaw.

The huge griffon rolled as he hit the ground. He sprung up in a flash of feathers, his claws stretching out to rake across Mangle’s face. The griffon guards pulled their bows out and strung up arrows. Now that she got a good look at them, Applejack recognized them as ice arrows, like those used in the Equestrian games.

The ones that could freeze a target on impact. It was instant frostbite.

Care’s horn glowed as she cast a fireball and shot it at the griffons. Caution raced towards Applejack with the intent of shielding her with his body. The donkey guard lifted his spear, a panicked expression on his muzzle. The minotaurs alternately raced to help Mangle, or raced for the griffons. Aspen grabbed Izod and dragged him beneath the table. The griffons let the ice arrows loose.

It was then that everything stopped.

The arrows were encased in an amber glow. They melted long before they reached across the room.

Care’s fireball was dissipated into thin air the moment it launched.

Andean and Mangle glowed golden as they were dragged apart.

Caution and the minotaurs collided with a shimmering shield that surrounded the table. The donkey guard’s spear bounced harmlessly off.

Shardscale’s pen went scribble, scribble, scribble.

Celestia rose above the table, her wings spread and her horn glowing. “That. Is. Enough.”

Applejack’s eyes widened as Celestia moved everyone back to either their seats or their posts. The Princess of the Day glowered at each and every person individually. “I refuse to allow any wars to start today. I refuse!”

Andean struggled to remove Celestia’s telekinetic grip from his body. “You think you can just—”

“I most certainly can.” Celestia pointed a hoof down the table. “We are here to observe a most important scientific discovery. Not”—she turned to Seabreeze—“to sell products”—she glared at Izod—“to stroke egos”—she settled down in front of Andean—“or to further selfish political goals!”

Scribble, scribble, scribble.

“Now, may we return to our nice dinner with Megan?” She looked at the Sapience with a nod. “I believe you were telling us about your nice railroad system?”

Megan didn’t say anything for a moment. Her eyes crossed as she clutched at her stomach. “I don’t feel so good.”

She vomited on the table, then dropped from her seat to the floor.