18 December, Y.C. 969
Canterlot
“Mares and gentlecolts,” said McNamare, her slightly raised voice cutting through the murmur in the council’s chamber. Obligingly, heads turned, and the buzz quieted somewhat.
“Thank you,” she said with a curt nod. “Mares and gentlecolts, Princess Celestia.”
And then, before the observers in the gallery could realize it, she was there, just off to the side, towering over everypony else with a silent calm, her mane flowing ever so slightly in the still air.
“Thank you, Secrepony McNamare,” said the Princess with a graceful nod, moving to displace the light blue pony at the head of the table. Her expression was neutral, with just the slightest touch of wistful; it was the face of a leader willing to do whatever she needed to for her people, no matter how distasteful. It was perfectly calculated and deployed, something McNamare recognized with the slightest of nods as she moved to the open seat just to the Princess’ right.
“I’m glad you could make it,” she announced, glancing pointedly around the table. All of the cabinet were here; most had brought their own Undersecreponies as well. Not that they would be saying much, of course, but at a meeting such as this, they couldn’t risk being unprepared. Each and every pony at that table needed to be on top of every aspect of their jurisdiction, and two heads were always better than one.
“As you’ve surely noticed, today we have some company,” the Princess continued, turning from side to side, sweeping the room with a level gaze. “To our guests, our welcomes and our thanks.”
A nod of appreciation rippled down the row of ponies standing at a respectful distance from the table. Most of them were representatives from the news organizations; a few were from major corporations, and the remaining two or three were some of the most influential stallions in Canterlot.
Most importantly, though, every pony there was savvy to the ways of political discourse. They would report the spirit of the discussion, not the words. If somepony at the council table misspoke, they could rest assured that the reporters wouldn’t excise and twist their words against them. Every representative there knew that, though the council was technically in an open session, to call it open was something of a misnomer.
They were present at the pleasure of the Princess, and to report anything deceptive, anything other than the truth… well, they would suddenly find themselves with no reason for employment. Trust with the Princess was hard to earn; once lost, employers found it easier to simply work up a different pony for royal interaction.
“I know there are a number of different issues to be dealt with at the moment,” said the Princess by way of introduction, “but unfortunately we can’t address all of them in open session. I would very much like to give to each the attention it deserves, but our time is limited.” She smiled slightly. “After all, I trust you all. That’s why you’re here — you take care of the thousand little things that keep Equestria running smoothly.”
Various nods. They all understood. The job of a Secrepony of Education was important in its own right, but no one in their right mind would prefer the council be discussing proposed revisions to the standard curriculum right this moment. For that matter, most of them would rather not discuss such revisions at all; they didn’t know the first thing about pedagogic theory.
“You are all here today, though,” she went on, “because I value your counsel — and some issues are too big for any one pony to handle.”
Celestia glanced at McNamare, who nodded solemnly. She wasn’t about to contest that; despite the vast influence she wielded, McNamare was the first to ask for help when necessary.
“Three days ago, the Blackacre negotiations reached a turning point. Thanks to the diligent efforts of both sides, we have reached a preliminary consensus.” The Princess glanced at the ponies observing the proceedings. “Many of you will already know this.”
The reporter present from the Tall Tale Times found reason to look away for a moment. Their organization had been the first to leak the terms of the proposed settlement, the result of a chance encounter between one of the Times’ correspondents and a slightly talkative courier pegasus. The reporter present at the council meeting was of course one of the Times’ most senior staffers; he had had nothing to do with it, but at least had the good graces to look ashamed for the stain on his organization’s reputation.
In the scheme of things, though, the leak had worked out well enough. The young reporter had naturally been blacklisted, and his career was effectively finished — but leaking the settlement details two hours after the Herald got a hold of the Air Patrols’ troop deployments provided for a better cover-up than even the best-enforced gag order. Besides, the Times got a good scoop out of it. They could well afford to sacrifice a reporter for news like that. Even two.
“Our chief diplomat has forwarded the latest set of terms, with only slight modifications from the original proposal. He informs me that, as far as the Blackacreans care, they are final; they’re happy with the settlement.” The tip of her elongated horn glowed ever so slightly, and a dozen sheets slid across the table. “You all have copies of the proposed terms; these are the latest revision, only twenty minutes old. Again, there are no significant changes from last night’s set; it seems that this is their best offer.”
Along the sides of the room, an attaché quietly padded from observer to observer, handing out extra copies.
“The proposed terms,” she reminded them, “are just that: proposed. You all have perspectives and information that my chief diplomat does not. I am prepared to accept these terms upon his recommendation, but I would much rather do it with yours as well.”
“Lastly, before we begin, I would like to make one last thing clear.” Her face tightened slightly. “I don’t like this. Not in the least. But given our current situation….”
She shook her head again. “We have very few options.”
Somber expressions around the room. They knew that the Princess would never capitulate to demands unless it was absolutely and critically necessary. The observers might not know the strategic situation, but they knew the Air Patrol had been deployed; it didn’t take excessive powers of observation to connect a few dots. Blackacre needed to be brought back into the fold, and fast, so they could focus on presenting a united front.
With a gesture, Celestria stepped back, giving McNamare the floor. She gently tapped the sheet in front of her and gave the table a once-over.
“There are a number of terms offered, and some work in our favor. We’ll start with the Blackacrean proposed set.” She ran a hoof down the page, ticking off items to herself. “Most fall into two categories. The first is a complete overhaul of the current tariff scheme.”
Murmurs of discontent, especially from the direction of those ponies more intimately involved with the business of taxation. Secrepony Geldner was displeased, but not too concerned. No one knew the tax code better than he did; if anyone could rewrite a chunk of it in a manner to maximize favorable appearance while minimizing actual effects, it was the Secrepony of the Treasury.
“That’s a discussion we need to have,” said McNamare, “but there are more pressing concerns.”
At the end of the table, Geldner gave a gracious nod. That was fine by him; all committee discussion would do was slow him down.
“The second main demand,” she continued with only a trace of hesitation, “is the railroad.”
Almost immediately the room exploded. Most of it was due to Secrepony O’Commerce, but she was joined by a fairly loud contingent of the other Secreponies.
“Unacceptable! Utterly unacceptable! Why —”
“— Ponyville’s to the Gorge; entirely out of jurisdiction —”
“— sort of precedent will this set? Canterlot doesn’t get to redistrict —”
“— impossible to execute with proper oversight —”
“Gentlecolts, please!” thundered Celestia, bringing a sort of quiet to the council chamber. “We wouldn’t be here unless we had to be here. Control over the railroad is their central demand, and without it we’re not getting anywhere.” She paused for a moment, trying to let the gravity of the situation sink in. “The only question — the reason we’re here — is just how much control we’re willing to concede.”
“The proposal we have so far,” said McNamare, neatly slipping into the pause, “is to divest Ponyville and Appleloosa roughly equally.” She tapped the sheet again. “Blackacre gets control from the Bogg side of the Ponyville river until the bridge over Ghastly Gorge. The bridges will be split; Ponyville maintains control over the Remaregen, and Blackacre gets the Gorge Bridge.”
“What about maintenance?” sputtered O’Commerce. “Gorge is an awfully big bridge, and nopony can keep it in order without some serious construction equipment. Last time we had to replace a section of truss, we had to ship in replacement machinery and a dedicated crew from Detrot!”
“Maybe that’s an answer, Stream,” mused Hay, gently resting a hoof on her foreleg to restrain her. “Grant control contingent on proper upkeep, defined as meeting Equestria-standard requirements.”
“And maybe that’s an opportunity,” interjected Geldner with a shrug. “I don’t know about their repair teams, but we can guarantee that our own maintenance crews will do the job. Unfortunately, since the infrastructure isn’t under direct Canterlot control, they’ll need to charge a service fee.”
Hay nodded. “How convenient.”
Celestia watched as her councilors shot ideas back and forth. Most of them had been discussed before, but there were a few new ones and permutations thereof. Which was good; that was, after all, the whole point. She didn’t like being in the position of having to think up these concessions, no more than O’Commerce, but there was little she could do about it. Working up the concessions wasn’t pleasant, but for all they knew, they were securing the best possible platform for relations moving forward.
The Princess gave the slightest of smiles as her councilponies went to work.
She knew better.