//------------------------------//
// Jubilation 
// Story: Climbing the Mountain 
// by Talon and Thorn 
//------------------------------//

“Is this all you’re bringing, dearie?” asked Mrs G, eyeing the small bag that Max had brought into the office.
 
“I think so, I’m only going to be away for one night,” replied Max. Truth be told, he was glad to get a little time away from Canterlot. Fragrant had been acting very distantly to him for the last few days, since he had been fooled by Greengrass into voting the wrong way. He was still kicking himself for his stupidity. Fragrant hadn’t openly blamed him, but she had cancelled their breakfast and dinner meetings. They still met most evenings, but those had all been short and to the point. He hoped his teacher wasn’t ill; she had been quite subdued around the court, even when she wasn’t dealing with him.
 
“And this date thing,” said Mrs G, looking disapproving. “Do you think it’s a good idea?”
 
“Well, it’s not exactly a date. Baron Fields has just asked me to escort his daughter to the Vicereine’s Jubilation, but... well, I think she likes me, and I like her. Zephyr was a while ago. It’s probably time to put myself out there again, as it were. I think I’d like to see where this goes. Maybe I’m wrong and I make a fool of myself…” He shrugged. “But, well, it’s not like I’ve not done that before.”
 
Mrs G muttered something that sounded like ‘Billies!’ under her breath. “Why does she call it a Jubilation, anyway? What’s wrong with calling it a party? Anyway, what about Fragrant?” she asked with more volume.
 
“What about her?”
 
“Don’t you think she might be a good match for you?”
 
“Fragrant? No, I’m totally wrong for her. Sure she beautiful and smart and witty, but she’s a Duchess and I’m only a Baron. She’s never shown any interest in me and she’s my teacher. We’re just good friends. I think Buttercup’s a better choice for me; she’s a bit young but I do like her.”
 
“I did tell you to talk to Fragrant, you know,” she said reproachfully.
 
“Yes, and you also told me that if I couldn’t, that I should move on rather than moping around the place. I couldn’t, so this is me moving on.”
 
Before the discussion could continue, there came a gentle knocking at the door. Frowning, Max went to answer it. There, leaning heavily on his cane, was Baron Rolling fields, Buttercup’s father. Max stood aside and let the aged Stallion into the office, where he slumped into a chair. He panted for a moment, then spoke. “Minty,” he said angrily. “I’ve just heard a rumour that you’re escorting my daughter to Puissance’s birthday Jubilation tonight. Now, you’re a nice chap, but in my day you asked a girl’s father before you did that sort of thing.” He shook his stick at Max.
 
Max sighed. This was obviously one of Rolling’s bad days. The old stallion’s health and memory seemed to fluctuate alarmingly from day to day. Max didn’t know how much longer the he could carry out his role if he carried on like this. It was a shame. He quite liked the Baron; he was one of his few friends at court. “Um, you asked me to be her escort, sir. Don’t you remember?” he asked gently.
 
“I’d think I’d remember something like that relating to me own daughter,” yelled Field. Then he blinked. “Oh, I did didn’t I, I’m sorry I... I forgot,” he mumbled.
 
“That’s alright,” said Max brightly. ”I’d forget my own head if it wasn’t tied on.”
 
“Here,” said Mrs G, appearing next to Rolling. “Have a drink, you’ll feel better.” She passed him a steaming cup of tea.
 
“Thank you,” said the Baron. “Now, where were we? Oh, the Jubilation! Yes, thanks for that. It wouldn’t be proper for a filly to go without an escort, and she certainly doesn’t want her old dad showing her up.” He sighed. “I’ll make it up to you once you’re back. Just make sure she’s happy and safe. She’s a good girl, looking after me; she deserves a fun night now and again. Just make sure she doesn’t spend her time working, and keep your hooves to yourself, right?” He nudged Max with a bony elbow.
 
“I’ll take good care of her,” said Max. “I hear almost every noble in the court got invited this year.” He hadn’t, but then he had only recently joined the court.
 
“Well she’s opened up the guest list this year. I got my invite almost before last year’s. I’m one of the few still here as old as Puissance; we get together every so often to complain about how the young ‘uns are ruining Equestria. Besides, I think she might be sweet on me. There was a time I might have been the third Mr Optiebeurs-Golo, you know.” He sighed, his eyes glazing for a moment. “Anyway, there’s no vote scheduled today or tomorrow, but have you sorted out your proxy just in case?”
 
“My what?” asked Max, looking confused.
 
“Your proxy. The chap to act in your stead if you’re not here and something comes up.”
 
“Oh, I didn’t think about that.”
 
“Didn’t Fragrant go over it with you?”
 
“No, I don’t think so. She’s been a bit busy for the last few days.”
 
“Well, you normally have a default proxy who fills in if you get sick or unexpectedly unavailable. Buttercup fills in for me. Then you can nominate specific ponies for specific times, but it’s a big pile of paperwork to do that. There’s some chaps who are hardly ever here, just keep their proxy about. Luna’s not happy about that sort of thing, though. Anyway, you better think of someone you trust. Whatever they do is on your head.”
 
“Can it be anyone?” asked Max. Maybe Fragrant would agree; he couldn’t think of leaving Nulpar in safer hooves.
 
“More or less. It’s got to be an Equestrian citizen, and it’s not supposed to be anyone else who can already vote. Conflict of interest and all that.”
 
Well, that ruined that idea, thought Max. Who else do I trust?
 
“You’ll need to sort somepony out for the summer as well,” continued Baron Fields. “The court may be on vacation, but you never know when something’ll pop up. I remember when there was that big blow up in Caballero – what was it, twenty, twenty five years ago, now? It happened during the summer; there were probably less than fifty of us real courtiers here, the rest were all proxies. Maybe the Cabas planned it that way, thought we’d take a while to get organised. Sneaky buggers! Well, we surprised them. All the proxies stepped up and did their jobs. Plus we’d just got that new-fangled telegraph thing set up, meant we could get at least some of the more important courtiers back here quicker than ever used to be possible, and keep in touch with the troops at the front once they set it all up.”
 
Although Max found the history lesson quite interesting, he was only vaguely aware of the war having happened when he was younger. He was more worried about sorting out some sort of cover for himself; his train was due to leave in only a few hours.
 
“I think this is what you were looking for,” said Mrs G, holding out a few sheets of paper stapled together, entitled ‘emergency appointment of a proxy’.
 
“Thanks,” said Max, flipping through the papers. They seemed simple enough. “I think I know just who to appoint.”
 
Fields looked up as Max completed the forms. His mouth dropped open as he peered at the document. “Well,” he said, gaping, “I think that’ll be a first.”
 





 
“Just made it!” exclaimed Max as the train slowly started to move. He’d ended up arriving at the station a bit late and had originally gone to the wrong platform. By the time he figured out his mistake, he only just had time to locate Buttercup and board the train before it left.  At least it had all sorted itself out, he thought, as he stacked his and Lady Field’s luggage.
 
“I’ll keep this one with me,” said Buttercup, taking a thick briefcase in her mouth.
 
Shrugging, Max followed the younger mare into the first class carriage to their seats. The train was busy but not entirely full; there were a few seats still free. Most of the other passengers were likewise minor nobles heading to the jubilation. Max let Buttercup sit first before taking his own seat and bouncing up and down a few times. It was really plush. Beneath him, the train slowly started to wind its way down the mountain towards the plains, where it could pick up some speed.
 
Buttercup giggled a little at his behaviour. “Thanks for agreeing to be my escort,” she said.
 
“It’s nothing. I was happy to agree when your father asked me,” replied Max.
 
The mare frowned for a moment. “I do wish dad wouldn’t do that. I’m perfectly capable of going to these things by myself, or to find my own escort. I think he’s trying to fix me up with the various bachelors at court; probably wants grandfoals. Last time is was Sir Lance Alot, and before that Viscount Blueblood. I had to listen to him talk about himself all night. Dad even tried Duke Greengrass once, but I claimed I was sick. That stallion makes me feel slimy just looking at him, he’s almost as bad as Dirt Digger.” She stuck out her tongue and shuddered. “Err, not that I don’t want you here. Given the choice, I would have asked you anyway. I like you, Mounty.” She flushed a little.
 
“I’m happy to be here too,” agreed Max. “I like you too. You’re always helping others, like your father, and your charity work.”
 
“It’s nothing, really. You’re always helping ponies too, and you’re very kind and energetic and...” she seemed to run out of words. “And I really like your mane,” she finished hesitantly.
 
Max chuckled, running a hoof through his hair. “You should see it when I’ve just woken up.”
 
“I think I’d like that,” said Buttercup. Then she looked away, blushing. “Anyway, what I mean is that this doesn’t have to be anything more than just you taking me to a ball... unless you want it to be.”
 
Max paused for a moment. What did he want from this? Buttercup was kind and sweet and attractive, but did he see things going further? He didn’t know. He’d thought he and Zephyr would have lasted forever, and it hadn’t. He wasn’t sure if he could see him and Buttercup being together in ten years’ time, but he certainly wasn’t against dating her. “I think we should just try to have fun and see where things go, don’t you?”
 
Buttercup smiled. “That sounds perfect.” Then her face clouded a little. “There isn’t anypony else you're interested in, is there? I wouldn’t want to break anything up.”
 
“No, no pony else at the moment,” said Max, maybe a little too fast.
 
Buttercup looked perturbed for a moment, then turned to the window. “I don’t get away from Canterlot very often. In fact, I’ve more or less grown up there.”
 
“Really? I would have thought you’d have stayed in your father’s lands.”
 
“My mother died when I was born, and I think Dad was always a little scared of letting me go. He kept me with him, so I’ve spent most of my life in the castle. It’s not that bad, but it was a little lonely; there aren't many other foals there. We only went back to Houyhnhnm for the summer.”
 
“Where?” asked Max, looking confused.
 
“Houyhnhnm, my father’s province. Well, sub province. How can you not know that?” She looked shocked. “It’s announced by the sergeant before my father votes!”
 
“Well, I always thought he was just clearing his throat,” said Max awkwardly.
 
Buttercup stared at him for a moment, then began to giggle, which quickly grew into guffaws and even some very unladylike snorts. Max began to laugh as well.
 
“You truly are one of a kind, Max,” said Buttercup, once she got herself under control again.
 
“So what is Houyhnnnhnhnm like?”
 
“Houyhnhnm,” she corrected. “It’s quite a small place to the west. It has lovely rolling plains and great orchards of all sorts of trees and it’s on the coast,” she breathed. “Have you ever seen the sea, Max?”
 
“No, Nulpar’s inland.”
 
“Oh, you must visit someday. There are tall white cliffs – and beyond, blue as far as the eye can see, stretching off to the horizon. It’s just magical.” She sighed. “It makes me feel small, but in a good way, like nothing bad can happen because the sea will always be there for me. When I was little, my father used to take me out on a boat, and we’d just stay there all day just bobbing up and down, just him and me.” Her smile slipped. “It’s been a long time since we last did that. When I was small, he used to tell me that was where my mother was – beyond the sea – and that someday he’d go and meet her again there.” Her eyes misted a little.
 
Max rested his hoof on Buttercup’s. “You really love him, don’t you?”
 
“My father? Of course. He’s always been there for me. He could have dropped me off with some nanny, but he kept me with him, looked after me. Now I look after him while I can.”
 
Max’s face was suddenly split by a mighty yawn. “Sorry,” he apologised. “It’s a bit late for me.” Peering out the window, he noticed the sun was edging up the sky.
 
“It’s quite a way to Larraguible, almost twelve hours. You should get some sleep,” suggested Buttercup.
 
“That’s probably a good idea. How about you?”
 
The mare picked up her case and opened it, revealing reams of paper. “Oh, I’ll take a nap later, but I’ve got work to catch up on first.” She took out some spectacles and slipped them on.
 
“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” said Max. They looked good on her; they made her look a little older and strict... in an interesting way.
 
“I don’t. These don’t even have glass in them.” She stuck a hoof through the frame. “But they’re all the rage nowadays. Even the Princess wears a pair, or so I hear.”
 
Max examined her eyes closely and was surprised by how lined they were; she looked exhausted. She was probably doing most of her father’s job as well as her own charity work, he thought, and now she’s planning to work through this trip as well.  He grabbed the case and slammed it shut, causing Buttercup to jump in her seat. “None of that. Your father told me to make sure you had fun tonight, and part of that is no working.”
 
“But...” complained the younger mare.
 
“No! Your father's orders!” he cried with a smile.
 
Buttercup pouted, looking even more adorable than normal. “Well, maybe I could do with a bit of a rest,” she admitted. “But when I wake up, I’ll get back to work. There are some things that need to be finished by the time I get back to Canterlot.”
 
“I’ll make sure you get the urgent stuff done before we get back to Canterlot,” agreed Max, putting the case on the far side of himself to her.
 
“I’ll just have a quick nap,” noted Buttercup, closing her eyes. “Then back to work,” she mumbled as the tension started to drain out of her body.
 
Max grinned as his companion slumped in her seat, lulled into dreams by the gently rocking of the train as it ate up the miles to their destination. Settling himself back into his seat, Max closed his eyes and joined her.
 





 
Max stirred against his nice warm pillow, and felt it give a little murmur of discomfort. Forcing his eyes open, he caught a glimpse of orange hair. He blinked and realised that he and Buttercup had become intertwined as they had slept, their necks curling around each other; she was gently drooling into his mane. He really should move, but it felt so very comfortable. Glancing out the window, he saw that the sun was beginning to lower; they must have slept for most of the day. Their destination couldn’t be too far away now.
 
Trying to peer up at Buttercup without moving his head too much, Max noticed how young she looked while asleep. The glasses, still on her muzzle, made her look like a filly playing dress up. He hadn’t realised it before, but she always looked so tense at court, as if she thought she shouldn’t be there. He liked how she looked now better. It seemed more natural.
 
Still unconscious, Buttercup took a mouthful of Max’s mane and began to slowly chew on it. The sensation caused Max to jump back, shocking his companion back into wakefulness.
 
“Wha...” mumbled Buttercup, looking around blearily. She stared at Max for a moment, then blinked and held up a hoof to stifle a laugh.
 
“What?” he demanded.
 
“Your mane!” she giggled. “You said I wouldn’t want to see it after you just woke up, and you were right!”
 
Max frowned a little as he tried to smooth down his wet and lightly chewed hair. “This is your fault,” he mumbled. “Anyway, are we almost there?”
 
Buttercup looked around. “I think so. I’ve only been to Larraguible few times, but this does seem familiar. Wait, how long have I been asleep?”
 
“Most of the day, I think. Six hours? Eight?”
 
“But I’ve got so much to do!” She reached over Max to try and get at her case.
 
He blocked her with a hoof. “The only thing you have to do is enjoy yourself. Think of today as a day off.”
 
“But...”
 
“You can do all your work on the trip back tomorrow. I’ll even help you, but today and tonight, they’re a holiday.”
 
For a moment it seemed like Buttercup might argue, but she sighed and folded her forearms. “Fine,” she pouted.
 
“Good. Now, why don’t you tell me about Larraguible, if you’ve been here before?”
 





 
It turned out that Larraguible wasn’t quite as grand as some of the stories made it out. The roads were not all paved with silver, although some of the higher class areas did contain semi-precious stones embedded in the cobbles. The train arrived on time, and Max and Buttercup disembarked into the packed station. The last minute preparations for the Vicereine’s birthday were in full swing, and guests and deliveries were being rushed back and forth.
 
Max felt quite lost in the crush, but Buttercup seemed to know where she was going. She took him by the hoof and led him through the station and out into the street beyond, which was just as packed. It took several minutes before they managed to hail a taxi cart to take them to the hotel where they would spend the night. All of the city centre hotels were already packed with guests, so they were staying on the outskirts. Still, the place looked very impressive, stretching up several stories and lavishly decorated; it seemed nicer than the hotel in Canterlot Max had spent his first month at court in.
 
It was only a few hours until the Jubilation began, and both Max and Buttercup quickly made their way to their adjacent rooms to get ready. The room itself was actually rather small, but Max wasn’t planning to spend much time in it, so it hardly mattered. He quickly began to unpack his few belongings; he had considered bringing his red suit, but Fragrant had told him he should show at least some variation in his wardrobe, so he’d bought a black tuxedo and bow tie for the event. The bow was pre-tied and on an elastic collar; he had no idea how some earth ponies managed to tie the things themselves.
 
Laying out the suit on his bed and preparing to bathe, Max idly wondered what Mrs G was doing back in Canterlot.
 





 
The vote was unexpected but urgent. A rogue hurricane was blowing in towards Manehatten, and the local weather patrols were not sufficient to divert it. More ponies from neighbouring provinces would be needed; maybe even Cloudsdale or another cloud city would need to be diverted to provide the ponypower to deal with it. It was likely that such matters could be sorted out ‘on the ground’ as it were, but a night court vote would cut through the red tape and get things moving quicker.
 
Unfortunately, over half of the court were away, many at Pussicence’s Jubilation, leaving it to an army of pages to round up the remaining courtiers and the missing members’ proxies. It took almost two hours before the majority of those needed were finally gathered in the court chambers and the situation announced by weather minister Duchess Fragrant Posey. Given the urgency of the situation, the court were only given a few minutes to discuss before the vote was called.
 
As per tradition, the most junior member of the court was the first to vote.
 
“Baron Mounty Max of Nulpar has noted himself as absent from the court. His vote thus falls to his proxy,” thundered the voting sergeant. “How do you vote?”
 
A figure stood among the lower ranking nobles, causing a few gasps to echo around the chamber. “I vote to provide aid to Manehatten, dearie,” announced the first goat to ever vote in the night court.
 





 
“Not bad,” though Max, as he examined himself in the mirror. He actually looked like a real noble for once. Fragrant had been right; a well fitted tux makes almost any stallion look good. He gave his tie one last adjustment – it seemed a little tight – before making his way out of his own room, and knocked on the neighbouring door.
 
“Just a minute,” came Buttercup’s slightly muffled voice.
 
Max stood there awkwardly for a moment, looking up and down the corridor. He hoped Buttercup wouldn’t be long; he didn’t want to be late for the party.
 
There was a click, and Max turned to see a vision framed in the doorway. Buttercup had straightened her orange mane, letting it flow down one side of her face. Most of her body was covered by a long flowing sea blue dress, tied at the barrel by a loose silver cord On her head sat a thin silver tiara.
 
Max gaped.
 
Buttercup grinned, before spinning on the spot, causing the dress to billow out. “That good?” she asked.
 
“You... you look great.”
 
“Thanks. You look good too.”
 
Max stood grinning for a moment, then he remembered something. “Oh, wait.” He produced a small box and opened it, revealing a mass of intertangled purple flowers. He passed the corsage to Buttercup, who sniffed them.
 
“They smell so nice,” she said. “But I don’t want to spoil my appetite. I’ll eat it later.”
 
“Take your time,” said Max, as Buttercup strapped it onto her foreleg. “They’re Asters. It’s sort of a tradition in Nulpar to present them during a first... well, date.”
 
“Oh,” Buttercup looked at her leg. “Thank you.”
 
“Now,” he held out his own leg, “We better be going, my lady. We would not want to be late.”
 
“Why thank you, Baron,” she replied with a curtsey and a giggle, before linking forearms with him and letting him lead her off towards the hotel’s main doors.
 





 
The area outside Huaso Manor, the family estate of the Optiebeurs-Golo, was packed with ponies. It seemed like half of the town were present for the show. It was like several circuses had taken up residence around the building, as games were set up here and there, and a veritable army of entertainers were performing for the crowd.
 
Towering over it all was a stage set up to one side. A pale yellow mare with a blue two-tone mane, dressed in a costume covered in blue gems, was singing from on top, surrounded by a horde of backing dancers. A crowd of onlookers were screaming their appreciation.
 
“Who is that?” cried Max, pointing to the musical mare as he helped Buttercup from their carriage, trying to make himself heard over the sound of the crowd. Nopony paid the pair a second glance as they made their way through the crowd.
 
“Sapphire Shores,” yelled back his date. “You haven't heard of her?”
 
“In Nulpar we normally make our own music,” he explained.
 
“She’s very famous – the pony of pop, they call her. Personally, I prefer Crescendo when I have the time to go to a show, but Sapphire’s still quite good.”
 
Max shrugged. Neither of the names meant anything to him. Maybe he should try to find out more about popular music.
 
Max took Buttercup’s hoof and the two of them pushed forwards against the crowd towards the gates of the mansion. The guards protecting it checked their tickets before letting them in. To Max’s surprise the sound of the crowd behind them vanished as soon as they passed through the gates, presumably due to some enchantment. The grounds within the walls were somewhat less packed that the area outside, but was still crowded, with small groups of ponies overseen by a legion of servants chatting with each other. In some ways, Max felt more out of sorts here than in the circus outside. He turned to Buttercup again to ask what they should do now, when trumpets broke over the other sounds, which quickly died down as an orchestral score wafted over the crowd. Max was just starting to recover from the shock when the whole sky seemed to erupt in light, as wave after wave of fireworks exploded. Among them, twelve equine shapes twirled around each other – their wings not the normal feathered pinions of pegasi, but butterfly-like creations of gossamer – trailing glittering dust as they went.
 
As the performance reached its crescendo, the winged ponies spread out in a starburst formation and landed next to the manor’s main entrance, six to each side. Between them, the evening’s hostess – Vicereine Puissance Noctilucent Optiebeurs-Golo – strode forwards. The old mare wore a long feathered dress and headpiece interwoven with her own plumage, causing the gown to ripple as she moved. Silently she moved to the dais that made up her mansion’s porch and spread her wings, which caused the whole dress to open up like a peacock's plumage. A gasp ran through the crowd. She certainly knows how to make an entrance, thought Max.
 
Beneath the Vicereine, the crowd went wild at the spectacle. She seemed to wallow in the attention for a moment, before raising a hoof. The entire crowd fell silent at her gesture. Overhead, a giant illusion of her flashed into existence so that even ponies at the very back of the crowd – and probably over much of the city – could see their host.
 
“My citizens,” she cried, voice amplified by magic. “Honoured members of the Night Court. My guests. I welcome you all to this Jubilation to celebrate not only the founding of this great province so many years ago, but also my own birth.”
 
“That’s quite a coincidence,” whispered Max, “That she was born on the anniversary of the founding of the province. “ Maybe he should do something for Nulpar’s first birthday next year?
 
“This is her official birthday,” replied Buttercup still looking up at their host. “I don’t know when her actual birthday is, she doesn’t advertise it,”
 
“I have worked hard all my life for the betterment of my people, for my house, and indeed for the whole of Equestria,” continued Puissance. “As the minister of Finance, I have ensured that all Equestria is more prosperous. But on this most special of days, I plan to give even more to you, my guests; food provided by award-winning chefs, music arranged by Songtime himself, entertainment from all across Equestria. All brought here at my command for you.” She paused for a moment to enjoy the cheers from the crowd. “Now, with no further delay, I welcome you into my home.” With that she turned quickly, her dress fanning out again, and strode imperiously into the mansion. As she did, sound seemed to return to the crowd, and the nobles started to make their way forwards towards the door, their conversations an excited hum.





 
The interior of the manor was no less grand than the exterior. The walls were covered by silk drapes in the colours of house Optiebeurs-Golo, interspaced with portraits of various important members of the family. Off to one side stood several long tables of food, already surrounded by a herd of hungry ponies. Chairs were discreetly placed around to give the older or more tired guests a place to rest. Here and there were secure cases containing carefully labelled trinkets from the Vicereine’s collection. In the centre stood a huge ice statue of the Vicereine, easily ten times life size; it was illuminated by orbiting balls of magical fire (presumably, as there were no sign that they were melting the statue), their light glittering through its crystalline structure. The vast ballroom was filled with ponies; many of them Max recognised from court, while some were so famous that they were known even in Nulpar. Between them weaved many black-suited servants, seeing to the guests’ every need. The hostess herself was taking court at the far side of the room on a raised plinth, while below her a crowd of sycophants and guests were lining up to thank her one by one.   
 
Max felt a little overwhelmed, really. He was slowly getting used to life at court, but so far – after an initial flood of nobles wanting to get to know him – he’d found that most of the other courtiers tended to ignore him. But here, it seemed that everypony wanted to talk to everypony else about something or other. He and Buttercup had already been questioned by half a dozen groups of ponies about what they thought about the Jubilation, the Vicereine and many other topics which he knew nothing about. To his surprise, Buttercup seemed to have come into her own; normally when she was with her father, she stayed in the background, deferring to the old stallion and rarely offering an opinion. But here she seemed to know almost everypony’s name, and added an opinion to every topic. In a way he was glad, as it took the attention off of himself, but in another he wondered how much of this was a mask. He was supposed to be showing her a good time; was she really enjoying this?
 
While she finished off a discussion with a count about zoning regulations, Max found himself standing next to a small portrait almost entirely covered by some drapes. It portrayed a pegasus mare of maybe Buttercup’s age, sandwiched between two stallions of about the same age; she had a wing spread over each of them. It took Max a moment to realise that the mare was actually a much, much younger Puissance, her mane then a pristine white rather than the grey it was now. Baron Fields was right; she really had been a looker in the past. The biggest difference between then and now was the mare’s expression; both she and the stallions were smiling broadly. Max thought for a moment. He didn’t think he’d actually ever seen Puissance smile, although he had to admit he’d never met her outside of a court setting, and even then quite rarely.
 
“They’re her husbands,” said Buttercup, causing him to jump. Apparently her conversation was over. “The previous Mr Optiebeurs-Golo’s. Midas Lucra and Flashing Posey.”
 
“Both of them?” asked Max in surprise.
 
“Polygamy was a bit more common back there. She collected husbands as well as other things.”
 
Max considered for a moment. “Hang on. Flashing Posey?”
 
“Your teacher’s granduncle, or is that great granduncle? Many of the higher nobility are related to each other.”
 
Max examined the stallion in question. He couldn’t really see any similarity between the red stallion and Fragrant. “They seem... happy,” he noted.
 
“Maybe they were. They were young, and maybe even in love.” The mare took a further step closer to Max, their bodies almost touching.
 
“How about you? Are you happy to be here?” asked Max.
 
“Well, it’s a good opportunity to meet important ponies. Make useful connections.” Buttercup looked down.
 
“That sounds like work to me,” huffed Max. “Is that what you really want to do here? How you want to spend your night off?”
 
“Well, some of them are interesting... but most aren't,” she admitted. “It takes a very, very special type of pony to enjoy zoning regulations.”
 
“So what do you actually want to do?”
 
“Well, there are a few guests I’d like to talk to,” she admitted. “But you know, I think I’d like to dance, and maybe get something to eat.”
 
“Then let’s go and do that. Night off, remember?” said Max with mock strictness.
 
“Yes, Baron,” said Buttercup with a smile. Then she sighed. “But we have to talk to the Vicereine at some point.” She glanced over to their host’s throne a little nervously. The crowd seemed to have thinned a little. “And we might as well do that now.”
 
“Fine. But after that, nothing but fun, right?”
 
“I’ll try.”
 





 
The wait to talk to Puissance took maybe half an hour, and Max tried to make small talk with a few of the ponies in the queue, but he found himself mostly clueless when it came to the potential growth of the jewel market in Califurlong. Finally, they made their way to the front and stood before their host. She was raised a little above them, still clad in her feathery dress, and Max had to crane his neck somewhat uncomfortably to look her in the eye.
 
“Ah, Baron Max, Lady Buttercup,” noted Puscience as they approached. “I hope you are enjoying yourselves.”
 
“Thank you for inviting us to your Jubilation, your Excellency,” said Buttercup, giving a curtsey.
 
“Happy Birthday,” said Max bowing. “It’s very grand.”
 
“What is the use of power and wealth, if you cannot use it to put on such spectacles for those less fortunate?” said Puscience. “On that note, I am glad that the bill you were campaigning for, to allocate resources for a further Ontarneigho orphanage, passed, Lady Buttercup.”
 
Buttercup seemed to flinch slightly. “Thank you, your excellency, for the unexpected aid you provided.”
 
“Well, foals are the future, are they not? We have a responsibility to ensure they are raised and educated correctly to better fit into society, even if they do not have parents. I have ensured that my own foals, grandfoals and great grandfoal are raised correctly,” she said with some pride. “It is only right I ensure the same for others. On the note of foals and parents, how is your father? I am sorry to hear he could not make it, but I am sure Baron Max will be able to keep you entertained.”
 
“My father is well, but given his age he could not make the trip here. He sends his apologies.”
 
“Thank you. It is unfortunate that Rolling has not had the good fortune to age as well as I.” She sounded a little wistful. “We really must meet up some time and discuss his health in more depth. It is marvellous what doctors can do nowadays.”
 
“Yes, your Excellency,” said Buttercup, sounding extremely uncomfortable. Silence lingered for a few seconds, and Max felt he should fill it with something. Then he remembered his gift.
 
“Oh, I have a present for you, Vicereine,” he said, holding out a small ribbon-wrapped box.
 
“A present?” asked Puscience in surprise. “How quaint, but it is tradition that I give presents on my birthday rather than receive them. I, after all, have almost everything I could need.”
 
“Oh,” said Max, his face colouring. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know... well, if you don’t want it...”
 
“I didn’t say that.” She stretched out a hoof and took the box before carefully unwrapping it and examining the contents. “It is a rock,” she said, her eyes narrowing.
 
“Um, yes. I took it from the top of mount Bodach in my province. I think I might be the first pony to ever scale it; even pegasus find it hard to land there.”
 
“So it’s unique, then,” she said, slowly turning over the grey stone with the occasional white and green flecks.
 
“Well, I suppose so. The rock itself is Kimberlite, according to one of my friends. Not that common, but where it came from is probably unique.”
 
Puscience looked up with a strange look on her face. “Thank you, Baron, for your kind gift,” she said. There were a few more seconds of uneasy silence. “Now, I really must see to the rest of my guests.” She waved a hoof, indicating that their audience was over, and Buttercup took Max’s hoof and pulled him away.
 
“Are you alright?” he asked, once they were out of earshot. “You look nervous.”
 
“Oh, it’s nothing. I just find the Vicereine a little intimidating,” she admitted.
 
“I can understand that,” agreed Max. “But she doesn’t seem that bad.”
 
“Anyway, I think I could do with a drink,” said Buttercup, turning to a passing servant.
 





 
To Max’s surprise, they actually had mead. He’d found it hard to get his drink of choice at many Canterlot events, but here they seemed to have everything, literally; the servant had managed to roll off half a dozen types from him to choose from. It wasn’t quite as good as that which Honeybun made it, but it certainly hit the spot. He sighed contentedly as he watched Buttercup sip her second glass of wine, the first having disappeared quickly to calm her nerves. He was surprised how upset the mare seemed to be after her meeting with Puscience; was something going on between the two of them, or between her father and the old mare? He’d have to ask later but, he reminded himself, tonight was a chance to put such things behind them and just have fun.
 
Unfortunately, he and Buttercup had been caught up in conversation with another of the court members that made up much of crowd: the Marquis de Salad, and his guest Lemon Hearts. Apparently some sort of philanthropist; Max hadn’t heard of her. Up until now, Buttercup had managed to take the lead in all of these conversations, but she seemed oddly nervous now, so Max was left to try and make small talk by himself. “What do you think of the party so far?” he asked the Marquis.
 
“Why, it’s simply fabulous, the Vicereine’s dress was inspired, I see a great use of feathers in clothes for all tribes over the coming months. Of course, the Grand Galloping Gala is only a month or so away now, so it’s a bit late for that to be affected, but feathers are definitely the way to go for the autumn. Now, I see you’ve gone for a standard black suit this time, it's certainly a safe choice, but your use of red for your ennoblement was rather brave – although traditional for the event, that colour has really slipped out of use recently. Although I have to admit it does go with your coat, still, I think a purple or maybe even pink might have...”
 
Max stood, mouth open, as the tidal wave of words continued to spill from the Marquis. Although he knew Fragrant was considered somewhat of a fashion expert, he was totally lost; he only owned three formal outfits.
 
“Baron?” It took a second for Max to realise somepony was talking to him.
 
“Sorry.” He shifted his attention back to the Marquis.
 
“I said, how long have you and the lovely Miss Fields been a couple? The usual gossips seem to have missed you two.”
 
“Oh, um, were not,” said Max. I think, he thought. ”I’m just acting as her escort for the night.”
 
“Right,” said the Marquis, giving an exaggerated wink.
 
“How long have you and Ms Hearts been together?” countered Max.
 
“Me and... oh dear no, my husband would have a fit!”
 
“The very idea,” tittered Lemon, looking a little distant.
 
“Lemon is just a friend of the family. In fact, she helped make the family. She was the one who found us our dear little Caesar, and she was so helpful with the adoption. When she asked me to bring her to this event, I just couldn’t say no.”
 
“Oh, that was nice of her.”
 
“Yes, she’s so very good with the foals. Why, she practically runs that orphanage by herself. Without her, I don’t know how foal protection services could cope.”
 
“But are orphans really that much of a problem in wider Equestria?" asked Max. Lemon looked up in interest. "Sure enough, even back home in Saddlesbu… err, Nulpar,” he still made that mistake too often, “Unfortunate accidents do happen.  When such thing do happen though, there's almost always a close family member or friend that can take such foals in." He thought of Brave Heart. Even with his mother still unconscious and his father long dead, the colt was being looked after by his uncle and his family. The other orphans from the Innsbuck disaster had similarly been taken in by other villagers.
 
Lemon Hearts seemed to examine him for a few seconds before replying. "Were it only that simple in the cities, Mr. Mounty." Max grinned at her use of a less formal title. It was nice to see somepony who didn’t care about that sort of thing.  "In your own home province, where isolated villages of only a few hundred ponies – plus the odd goat or hippogriff – are the norm, it's a rather simple matter for everyone to know everyone else.  In the cities, however, where we are constantly surrounded by thousands or more, there just isn't enough time in the day to meet them all.  As such, it is exceedingly difficult to know who can be trusted, and so far too many ponies respond by simply trusting nopony at all."
 
Max frowned. He supposed that could be true, however unpalatable it seemed. "Of course, that's not to say we don't all still have our associates,” continued the Mare. “But the kind of community bonds strong enough to take in a stranger's child… not so much.  Even when such is the case, there is still the matter of trust.  Sad as it is to say, there are always those who take in abandoned children, not out of genuine love, but for any number of potential ulterior motives. That, Mr. Monty, is why organisations with established reputations like my own are so vital. Why, just the other day I met a young mare who slipped through the cracks, who spent her whole youth growing up shuffled between foster families that never wanted her in the first place. That's no way for any foal to grow up, wouldn't you agree?"
 
Max hadn’t really thought about it. “No, of course not,” he admitted.
 
"See, Max," gushed Buttercup, apparently finally finding her tongue. “Madam Hearts here is such a wonderful pony." Then she blushed a little. "I’m sorry… I mean that is… it's just that I've been something of a fan of your work for some time now.  It's both an honour and a privilege to finally get to meet you in person.  You’ve done such a wonderful job for so many foals.  I’m actually the patron for a charity hoping to set up an orphanage similar to yours in Ontarneigho, and I was just wondering… that is, if it wouldn't be too much of an inconvenience... if I could pick your brains for a moment?"
 
“Of course dear, although now may not be the time for a detailed discussion. Maybe we can arrange a more formal meeting some when?” replied Lemon.
 
“Oh, I would like that, but can I ask just a few questions?”
 
"It's such a wonderful thing to see such enthusiasm in young and upcoming dilettantes.  You remind me so much of myself at your age.” She smiled at the reminiscence. “Would that there were only more ponies like us, Equestria could be such a better place.  Of course, I would be glad to lend whatever personal assistance I can to help your own endeavours succeed.  I find myself becoming a bit parched, though. Would anypony like a drink?"
 
“I think I could stand another mead,” said Max.
 
“Wine for me,” said Buttercup.
 
“Good, I’ll just...” said Lemon turning away.
 
“No need,” said the Marquis. “That is what the servants are here for, after all.”
 
“There’s no need to bother, I can...” began the mare, but the noble had already clopped his front hooves together, and a black clad servant seemed to materialise next to him, ready to take his order. “Chocolate milk for you, wasn’t it?” he said to Lemon.
 
“Um, yes,” she blushed slightly. “It’s a taste I’ve picked up from my little ones,” she admitted.
 
“So how do your orphans make their way to you, Ms Hearts?” asked Max
 
“Oh, various ways, most via foal protection services, although in some cases, those aware of their own mortality and without a suitable surrogate may appoint me guardian of their most precious possession. Some of my more troublesome guests are even brought to me by the guard, although I find that with a little love they can become perfect citizens.”
 
They stood in companionable silence for a few moments, enjoying their various drinks.
 
“Excuse me, but I need to visit the little filly’s room,” admitted Lemon. “I’ll be right back.”
 
“Oh, I’ll come with you,” said Buttercup.
 
The older mare examined the younger for a moment, then moved in to whisper to her conspiratorially. “I’m sure I can find it by myself, and you probably want to spend as much time with your escort as possible. You wouldn’t want some other mare to catch his eye while you’re gone, would you?”
 
Buttercup’s eyes widened and she even seemed to pale for a moment before moving closer to Max. She raised a hoof, and for a moment seemed ready to put a possessive arm around him, before she relaxed and nodded to the older mare as she wandered off.
 
“Well,” said De Salad. “It appears that I have lost my companion for the moment.” He appeared unconcerned by this turn of events. “Now, where was I? Oh yes, what do you think the fashion for jackets will be next year, three or four buttons? I was certain it was going to be three, but I was just talking to Fancy Pants last week and...” Max sighed. This could be a long night.
 





 
“Did we lose him?” asked Max, his head swivelling from side to side.
 
“I think so,” giggled Buttercup from alongside him, trying to muffle her amusement with a hoof.
 
“I know it was rude of me, but I just couldn’t stand another minute of him.” He looked over at where De Salad was still standing, rabbiting on to thin air, not yet realising his audience was missing. “What would you like to do next?”
 
“Well, I’m feeling a little hungry.” She raised the forearm with the corsage on it; several bites had been taken out of it. “Then maybe some dancing? If you want.”
 
“That sounds nice. I think I’d like to try this ‘award winning’ food.”
 
Together, they trotted off to the buffet tables, still full of plate after plate of food. The couple separated for a moment to hunt down their own favourites. Max was a little surprised by the lay out; he had expected something exotic, maybe griffin or Prench cuisine, but it seemed that most of it was good solid fare. He took a bit from a carrot stick; it was satisfyingly crunchy. Certainly top marks from him.
 
“Do you like it?” asked a nearby orange mare in a mulberry dress.
 
“‘s good,” said Max, talking with his mouth full. “Bit like we have at home, but normally more potatoes.”
 
“Oh, there are some over there,” said the mare, pointing at another table.
 
“Thanks.”
 
“You’re welcome,” said the mare, glowing with pride that a member of the nobility seemed to enjoy her food.
 





 
After they had eaten their fill, Max and Buttercup stood together against one of the walls, watching the crowds. The Vicereine had abandoned her plinth and was now making her way through the crowds, followed by a stream of hanger-ons.
 
“So, what’s next?” asked Max.
 
“Well,” said Buttercup a little nervously. “I thought we could maybe dance for a bit, if you want to?” She gestured to the dance floor, where a group of ponies were gliding around gracefully.
 
Max swallowed a little painfully. “Well, I’m not that much of a dancer, really... but I’m willing to give it a go.”
 
Suddenly a hush broke through the crowd, and Max’s head swung round to see Puissance, her face black as a thunder cloud, with fondue dripping off of her.
 
“Whoops…” announced one of the servants, holding a now empty tray. “But I guess now tonight's dinner really is all on the Vicereine." Although Max had to bite him tongue not to laugh, Puissance herself seemed less than amused. "Gee, tough crowd; I—" the servant saw the look on her employer’s face and swallowed painfully.  "…I'll just be going, that is." And with that, the mare ran off into the crowd.
 
Puissance ruffled her wings with agitation, splattering sticky bits of food on the nearby guests, before she was surrounded by a horde of well-wishers and vanished from sight.
 
“I wouldn’t want to be that servant when the Vicereine catches up with her,” said Buttercup.
 
“I’m sure she’ll be fine. It was just an accident, after all. It’s not like a little spilt food will kill anypony,” countered Max.
 
“Anyway, where we?” said Buttercup. “Oh, yes, I have to teach you to dance. Now, put your forearm around me.” Max gently put an arm around his partner’s neck. “A little rougher?” she suggested. “I won’t break.” He tightened his grip and pulled the mare closer to him. “That’s better.” She sighed, resting her head on his shoulder for a moment, then straightened as the band started a new tune.
 
Buttercup seemed to flow away from him, and he had to struggle to keep up as she led him around the floor, occasionally quietly whispering into his ear about what he should be doing with his hooves. He had been lying a little when he said he wasn’t much of a dancer; he was quite good at the folk dances back in Sadlesberg, but this was a little different. Still, the basic skills seemed to be the same, and they quickly came back to him. After a while, they were even drawing some jealous looks from some of the other dancers, as they glided across the floor together, lost in each other’s eyes for a timeless moment.
 
“I think that’s enough for now,” murmured Buttercup, panting a little. “I could do with a breather.”
 
Coming back to himself, Max realised that his hooves were aching a bit. They must have been going for quite a while. “Of course,” he said, leading her away from the dance floor. “Is that the type of music Crescendo plays?” he asked.
 
“Err, no, her style is quite a bit different. Maybe I can show you some time.”
 
“I think I’d like that. What do you want to do now?”
 
“Maybe we could have another drink? I’m thirsty. And then maybe talk for a while. We might be able to go out into the gardens. I hear the flowers are lovely – there is a whole meadow of just night-flowering blooms.”
 
“That sounds lovely.”
 
“Oh, yes. They’re supposed to be exquisite, they put father’s to shame. I think they’re...”
 
“Fire!” came a yell from across the room, “It's a Fire!  Everypony for themselves!”
 
Max’s head snapped round to see a small herd of panicked guests rushing away as a cloud of smoke started to drift into the hall. The call was quickly taken up as more and more ponies noticed the commotion.
 
“Fire!”
 
“YEAH!!!”
 
“Run for it!”
 
“What’s happening?” asked Buttercup, her face paling.
 
“Probably just a little accident, nothing to worry about,” said Max, trying to sound soothing, as he gripped her hoof tight and began to make his way to towards the main door. “But we should clear the area to allow the fireponies to deal with it.”
 
They were quickly surrounded by fleeing ponies as panic began to spread around the hall, and a stampede of nobles and servants started to thunder towards the main door. Max tried to keep a grip on Buttercup, but a large stallion rushed past, knocking both of them aside. Max scrambled to his hooves, and looked around for his companion in the sea of ponies.
“Quick! Get to the gates!  Run, run, RUN!" came a yell from the front of the house, followed by the sounds of the gates being thrown open. Smoke seemed to be billowing from several doors and passageways now.
 
There she was, he thought. Buttercup was not too far away, curled up on the floor and trying to prevent any limbs from being trampled by the remaining herd of panicked nobles. She looked terrified. Max leapt through the crowd, hopping from side to side and trying to avoid crashing into any other guests. As he approached, he caught Buttercup’s gaze, and she held up a welcoming leg for him to grab. Out of the corner of his eye, Max noticed a large mare in uniform rushing towards his fallen date, and cried out a warning. The guard’s eyes widened as she tried to swerve out of the way, but she collided with a neighbour and staggered onwards. Kicking out with his hind legs and using all his might, Max leapt forwards, grabbing Buttercup and wrapping his body around her as the two of them rolled aside.
 
“Are you all...” began Max, breathing heavily as he turned to look into Buttercup’s shocked face. Then suddenly she had wrapped her limbs around him and was kissing him, and although he wasn’t sure, he was probably kissing her back.
 
“I’m fine, I think,” she said when they finally separated. “You saved me!”
 
Max looked around the room and noticed the smoke still starting to drift into the room. “We still need to get out of here. “ He grabbed her, and realised she was shaking slightly, before leading her towards the main doors.
 





 
 
“It was some sort of trick?” asked Buttercup, sounding angrier than Max had ever seen her before.
 
“Apparently, somepony set off a smoke spell and somepony else thought it was a fire.” They were standing just outside the mansion, and around them festivities were still carrying on. The Vicereine was hopping mad at the affront, but she had still put on a show for her guests; the events prepared for the town population were expanded and others set up within the grounds, while inside, an army of servants worked at a frantic pace to tidy things up the manor.
 
Despite the number of ponies, the night was still a little crisp, and Buttercup shivered a little in her thin dress. Seeing her distress, Max slipped off his jacket and offered it to her. She shook her head, so he leaned up against her to keep her warm. She didn’t protest this aid.
 
In the end, they snuck out of the grounds, giggling like naughty foals, and enjoyed their time in the carnival-like celebration outside the manor even more than they had the ball within. Wandering from entertainment to entertainment – jugglers, fire breathers, dancers, captive animals – they had both managed to forget that he was a member of the night court; instead they were just a couple of ordinary ponies out enjoying themselves. Buttercup gently steered Max away from the kissing booth, where a greenish mare with a multi-coloured mane batted her eyelashes at him, and towards a test your strength machine where he woefully failed to win her a prize, but she still cheered him on. Later, she proved to be surprisingly adept at hooking prize wooden ducks from a pond.
 
It was almost a shame when they returned to the manor an hour later. By the time they got there, it was almost impossible to tell anything had ever happened.
 
The couple talked and danced and lived the night away, until finally, leaning on each other – only partially due to the drinks – they stepped outside to hail a cart to take them back to their hotel.
 
They never did find a chance to visit the garden, though. It was closed and under guard for some reason.
 





 
Max’s hooves were heavy by the time he and Buttercup arrived at her room. They stood in silence outside her door for a moment.
 
“I had a lovely time tonight,” said Buttercup at last. “It was good to not have to worry about the court for a day, and to spend it with you. Despite the false alarm, and almost being trampled by a mob.”
 
“I enjoyed it too. I’m sure I’d have been totally lost if I was there by myself... I probably would have talked to the wrong ponies, insulted our hostess, caused the riot myself...” He was suddenly cut off as Buttercup put her mouth over his, her tongue questing forwards. He started back in surprise.
 
“Oh, I’m sorry, I...” she stammered.
 
“That’s alright, I was just a little surprised.” He rested a hoof on her back, not sure what else to say.
 
She turned and opened the door to her room. Then she turned back. “Look I... I’m still on holiday, and ponies do spontaneous things on holiday... I’ve wanted to say this all night, but do you...” She looked down. “Would you like to stay the night, with me,” she clarified.
 
Max was a little taken aback. A part of his mind had thought, had hoped, that the night might end this way, but now that it was here, he wasn’t sure what to do. She was young, but not too young to know what she was saying, and he’d enjoyed her company, but did he really know her? It had been a long time since Zephyr. For a moment he thought of Fragrance, but she didn’t feel that way; better he moved on, rather than obsess over her. His mind seemed to be scattering in all directions. Then he concentrated and made his decision.
 
“It can even be a one off thing,” she continued, seeing him pause. “I just want to have good memories of tonight. I know there are a lot better mares you could choose from and you might have...” Now it was her turn to be cut off by Max kissing her, and she didn’t pull away. They remained connected for some time, before finally pulling apart. She stood there for a second, eyes slightly glazed and breathing quickly, before taking Max’s hoof and leading him, unprotestingly, into her room.
 
The door closed behind the two of them with a click.