“I still don’t see why I couldn’t have talked to Serale after the tryouts were over,” Cobblestone said, trying very carefully not to move so the seamstress, an excitable older mare who apparently had a propensity for cake, could make adjustments to her dress. The mare, by the name of Velvet, could hardly manage to contain a scandalized gasp at the lack of proper title, something Cobblestone took a small amount of joy in. After all, she had spent the past hour being jabbed with pins.
“Because Lady Serale has other tasks to attend to,” Libra said. “Among them introducing her new mages to the soldiers they’ll be working with. They need to be acquainted with their compatriots by the time the officers are selected tomorrow.” She examined the dress Cobblestone was wearing with a discerning eye. “Recite again the proper order of formal dinner ware from left to right.”
Cobblestone did her best to contain a sigh. Libra had started coaching her directly after she had left the arena with not a care in the world for her dusty and sweaty state. Immediately they had set course for a well-known dress shop, this one in fact, so that Cobblestone would have something to wear at the dinner that night. When Cobblestone had asked about why she couldn’t just wear her robes, Libra had launched into an explanation on the different types of formal situations, of which there were many.
So it was that Cobblestone had spent the past hour on this podium, being measured and dressed and prodded, both with magic and pins. If she hadn’t known any better, she would have sworn that the seamstress was taking pleasure in causing her pain.
Thankfully, she had been able to have some say in what sort of thing she was wearing, which was perhaps the only good thing that had happened since they stepped into this place. Avoiding the ridiculously frilly monstrosities that were apparently in vogue at the Court, she had opted for simpler, more subdued clothing, one dress of dark blue and another of green, a perennial favorite color of hers.
“Salad fork,” Cobblestone said slowly. “Then dinner fork, then the plate…”
“What other dishes might be there?”
Cobblestone thought. “Dessert plate or bread plate on the left. Soup bowl on top of dinner plate, which gets removed after the soup course. Water goblet nearest the plate, followed by the red wine glass and then the white wine glass.”
“Continue,” Libra said.
“Salad knife goes nearest the plate, then the dinner knife. Then comes the spoon, the soup spoon, and the dessert fork. Dessert fork may go in the soup spoon,” Cobblestone said, gaining confidence. Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh! Napkin arranged on the left. Don’t tuck it into the collar of your shirt, ever.”
Libra stared at her for a moment, and then nodded. “You were almost entirely correct,” she said approvingly. “The dinner knife is the one nearest the plate. Count yourself lucky this is an intimate affair, larger formal dinners make the use of numerous other utensils.”
“I don’t understand why I’m going to have to learn them all,” Cobblestone said. “It’s not like I’m going to be attending a lot of formal dinners.”
“Think again,” Libra replied smoothly. “You’re a friend of royalty, which means you’ll be coming to these events more often than you think. Even if you think of yourself as an apprentice, you’re my apprentice. I’m not just a mage; I’m a high-level functionary in the Court. And while it’s not expected of me to have my apprentice with me at every formal event, you’ll be expected to make an appearance at least once in a while.”
Cobblestone grimaced, partly at the idea of being forced to mingle with a bunch of ponies she would have robbed a month ago without a second thought, and partly because she had been jabbed with yet another pin. “Define ‘once in a while’. Please,” she said, remembering to be deferential. Libra had explained the importance of deference in public, even if it wasn’t necessarily expected in private.
Libra looked at her approvingly, noting the request. “I’d imagine there would be a few regarding my position as the Court Mage, probably alongside the other mages. You’d mingle with apprentices, and I with the masters. Very formal events which I’m expected to attend as a matter of Court, which is to say Royal affairs. If Lady Serale decides to host a ball or some such, you may attend.”
“I’ve never been fond of this kind of thing,” Cobblestone said. “Fancy clothes and manners just aren’t my idea of a good time.”
“We all need to make sacrifices,” Libra said. “They’re not so bad when you get used to them.”
“You can step out of the dress now, miss,” Velvet said. “I’ve got all the measurements I need.”
Cobblestone did so, as quickly as she could while being careful. If she managed to tear a portion of the delicate fabric, or pull a pin loose, it would be back up on the podium for her. Breathing a sigh of relief when she made it out of the dress, she stepped off of the podium.
“Your first dress is already being worked on in the back,” Velvet said, tossing her mane out of her eyes. “I’ll have the girls start on this one as well. They should be done in perhaps an hour. While you’re waiting, could I offer you some tea?”
“That would be lovely,” Libra replied with a smile. “Is there a place to take it that’s more private than here on the floor?”
Velvet returned the smile. “Don’t you fret, Magus. There’s a study in the back that never gets any use. I’ll have a girl show you there and bring the tea later.” She turned to the back. “Rose!” she called.
A young unicorn mare with a coat and mane of dark red, wearing a dress of plain black fabric, appeared within moments. “Yes, ma’am?” she asked, adjusting the spectacles that perched precariously on her nose.
“Take these two to the old study in the back,” Velvet said. “And let Ivory know that I’m sending this dress back to her for alterations. It needs top priority, any other project gets put aside. Done within the hour, understood?”
The mare nodded. “Understood, ma’am. The blue Empire dress is marked to be let out near the back of the hem but taken in near the front. Which one of those did you need?”
“Taken in, dear,” Velvet said. “I’ll be back in a minute to supervise. While you’re at it, would you mind terribly asking Cozy to warm up a pot of tea with the necessaries? Not a full service, you understand.”
Rose smiled brightly, an action which caused her nose to wrinkle. “I’ll pass it along,” she said. She turned to Libra and Cobblestone, curtsying as she did so. “If you two will follow me, I’ll show you to the waiting room.”
They were taken back through the shop, past a large, long room that was home to low tables, upon which rested busy sewing machines and bolts of fabric, along with sundry other implements of the tailor’s profession, and housing a half-dozen young mares and fillies, all of them quite intent on their work despite the calamitous noise sent up by the machines. They stopped for a brief moment.
“Ivory!” Rose called. “Cozy!”
Two mares perked up. “Miss Velvet’s sending back the second special order!” Rose shouted. “Ivory’s to stop her order and get ready to receive, and you need to warm up a half-service, Cozy!”
One mare, white as her name implied with a light blue mane, nodded, setting aside her current project, a handsome black jacket. The other, a tannish-brown mare wearing a slightly too-small apron hurried off through another door. The other mares, who had paused to listen, returned to their work in a matter of moments.
“Sorry about that,” Rose said meekly as they continued on, down a hall of whitewashed walls and faded purple carpet. “It’s powerful hard for them to hear, not being near the door and all. I’m senior apprentice, so I need to be standing by ready for Miss Velvet’s command.”
They arrived at a nondescript wooden door, alongside which hung a brass key. Rose took the key from the hook, turned it in the lock, and passed it to Libra. “The door locks again from the inside,” she said. “If you need anything, just pull the bell ringer on the inside. Somepony will be along shortly to assist you.”
She curtsied once more and retreated back down the hall to her station in the long room, leaving Cobblestone and Libra to enter the study by themselves, a simple room containing nothing more than a table and a few chairs, along with empty bookshelves on the wall.
“So that’s what a seamstress’s apprenticeship is like,” Cobblestone said as Libra closed the door behind them. “That’s a lot of ponies to teach at once.”
Libra nodded. “Thankfully, their training doesn’t need to be specialized. They can learn their lessons from one another just as well as from Velvet, and still come out alright.”
“They seem friendly,” Cobblestone said. “I suppose they’d have to be, living together like that.”
“Think again,” Libra said. “They may be friendly now, but eventually they’re going to be competing for business, and they’re already competing for favor from Velvet herself, in order to see who’ll take on the shop when she retires in a few years. Apprenticeships for artisan positions like this can be cutthroat.”
There was a knock at the door.
“Come!” Libra called. “The door’s not locked!”
The mare with the apron cantered in, a tray containing a tea set and small plate of biscuits suspended in front of her. “Here you are!” she exclaimed gaily. “Tea for two. Anything else while you wait?”
Libra smiled at her. “Nothing save privacy,” she said. “Come and get us when the second dress is packed and ready to go.”
The mare nodded, curtsying before leaving the two of them alone once more. Cobblestone reached for a small pastry to one side of the plate, but found her magic blocked by Libra.
“Stop,” the Magus said. “First, pour the tea. Don’t spill.” She lit her horn and waited.
Cobblestone frowned, and reached for the teapot, grasping it with her magic. It stubbornly refused to budge. Furrowing her brow, she tried harder. The porcelain pot rattled, but didn’t move. Straining, she managed to lift it into the air.
“To work proficiently with magic, you must be able to be precise as well as strong,” Libra said. “One or the other will never be good enough.”
Cobblestone grimaced, managing to move the pot over one of the cups. Gently, she attempted to tip it, only to find that the pot was difficult to tilt as well as lift. She glared at Libra. So she wanted to test her? Fine. She’d pass it with flying colors. Slamming her will against Libra’s, she set the teapot to tipping, shaking and rattling over the cup. Her attention was focused entirely on the teapot and the cup, and she felt a small thrill of victory as she saw a stream of fragrant brown liquid flow into the cup.
She attempted to tip the pot back up, but found her will blocked once more. Panicking, she noted that the cup was about to overflow, and desperately jerked the teapot back up to its original position. She watched as a single drop of tea dripped from the spout of the pot, landing on the table.
Libra’s horn flashed, and the teacup rose into the air, the tea rising out of it and spiraling back into the pot, leaving it dry. “Again,” she said. “While you pour the tea, tell me how to properly address a margrave in a formal setting.”
Cobblestone gritted her teeth, beginning the arduous process of pouring the tea again. “The proper term of address for a margrave,” she said, “Assuming you meet them in Court…”
Cobblestone rubbed her temples, wincing with pain. She had needed to pour a half-dozen cups of tea, straining all the while, before she had managed to go without spilling. Only when she had managed to fill the second cup, after four tries, had she been allowed to drink and eat. She hadn’t gotten to enjoy it, either. By the time she’d halfway finished her cup, the dresses had been done and they’d left.
After leaving the shop, everything had resolved itself into more noise and activity, from a ride to a hairdresser who had made her bathe (again!), this time in water that smelled like roses before trying to yank her mane out of her head, finally compiling it into something called a “chignon” that felt like it was pulling the skin of her face back. She’d hardly had time to breathe and adjust to the new sensation before she’d had powders and makeup slapped onto her face, a process which made her cough, which meant that it had taken even longer than usual to complete.
She’d scarcely arrived at the Regia before she’d been taken into a side room, with a final admonishment by Libra to behave herself during the dinner. There she’d been forced into a dress (the green one, she’d insisted on it despite all the recommendations from the attendants she wear the blue), and had half a dozen shoes and bracelets slipped on and off her hooves before the attendants apparently decided on shoes of black, twining up her legs in a manner reminiscent of smoke. A necklace of black silk with a blue stone had been set around her neck, and before she could do more than glance herself in the mirror, she’d found herself bustled down a corridor, arriving in an atrium where the clock told her she was more than fifteen minutes early for her dinner.
Of course, she’d been left alone.
Not completely alone, as the atrium was attached to the corridor, and the corridor was in use by various servants and staff. But her attempts to make eye contact or even be acknowledged by the clearly busy passerby left her feeling more alone than if she had been completely isolated. Not only this, but the break had given her time to realize exactly how far she had come, and begin to panic accordingly.
What was she doing? She was a street urchin from Crescent City! By rights, she should be cutting purses or scrapping in an alley, not having a dinner with the bucking Evening Lady! She didn’t belong here, she didn’t deserve the things she had. Putting her in a dress was like dressing a rat in fine silks, and teaching her magic was like trying to make a knife out of butter. She began to pace, a habit she had never put much stock in, lost in her thoughts.
What if she made a mistake? What if Libra had made a mistake, or Lady Everstar? What if she wasn’t anything special at all? She’d be found out during the dinner, she was sure. She’d make some sort of unforgiveable error, or say something foolish, and then she’d be out on her tail with nothing to show for it, not just a common thief, but one who was seen for the waste of space she was.
“Miss?” a voice called, a low baritone. “Are you alright?”
Cobblestone’s head snapped up to see who had addressed her. A soldier stood in the hallway, an Earth pony with a grey coat and a mane of dark, dusky black. The shining chits on his shoulders marked him as some sort of middling officer, and she recognized the shield badge he wore as that of a knight.
He smiled at her. “Are you lost, Miss?”
Cobblestone swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “No,” she managed to say. “I’m just waiting. I guess I’m nervous.”
He nodded understandingly. “First time in the Regia?” he asked.
Cobblestone shook her head. “Second,” she said. “I’ve just moved in, I suppose. I’m supposed to get a room after this dinner.”
“Not to worry,” the knight said soothingly. “Your House wouldn’t have sent you if they didn’t think you were ready to be part of the Court.”
Cobblestone’s heart skipped a beat. “I’m actually…I’m not part of a House,” she said. “I’m not noble. Quite the opposite, actually.”
The stallion grinned. “You could have fooled me,” he said. “You certainly look the part.”
Cobblestone felt all of her fear begin to melt away at the sight of that grin. Immediately she began to relax, her confidence returning. “I’m Cobblestone,” she said, offering a hoof to shake. “Pleased to meet you.”
The stallion bowed low, taking her hoof in his. His lips brushed against it gently. “My name’s Vino,” he said. “Vino of House Hedera. The pleasure’s mine.”
The clock on the wall began to chime seven. Cobblestone took her hoof back, her face hot. “That’s my cue,” she said.
Vino smiled. “Good luck, Cobblestone. I hope to see you around.”
He turned away and set off down the hall on his errand, leaving Cobblestone standing alone, watching him go. The door to the dining room opened, a servant sticking his head out. “Miss Cobblestone?” he asked. “Dinner is served. Please, come in.”
The dining room was an intimate room, built for perhaps a dozen ponies in total including servers. Paneled in wood, it was lit from above by a chandelier of magelights, glowing softly in yellow and white. The light glinted off of three well-polished windows, overlooking a courtyard below and the city beyond that. A door of simple red wood stood off to one side, clearly the entrance to the kitchens, if the smells were to be believed, and there was little to distract from the table in its center save an ornate grandfather clock against one wall, keeping silent time.
The table seated six in a circle, covered to the floor by a white tablecloth, but only three places were set. Despite herself, Cobblestone immediately swept the table to examine the silverware, and was both surprised and relieved to see that there was an extremely simplified setup at the table, consisting of one fork, one spoon, and one knife. One goblet for water and one glass for wine stood by the plate, and a soup bowl rested to the side of the plate as opposed to on top of it. Cobblestone felt a small pang of disappointment, realizing that she had been coached on table manners she likely wouldn’t need to use.
“Cobblestone!”
Cobblestone tore her gaze away from the table to see Serale rushing towards her, her face alight with joy. The last space between them was covered by a small jump, and Serale threw her forelegs around the young mare’s neck, embracing her closely. She held her friend at length, examining her.
“You look wonderful!” Serale babbled excitedly. “I hope the servants treated you well, I know they can be a bit much sometimes, especially when it comes to things like dresses. How was your trip up? I wanted to speak to you at the tryouts today, but there was just too much to do!”
“It’s good to see you too, Serale,” Cobblestone said, trying to get a word in edgewise. “Your servants were just fine.” She remembered that it laid on her to continue the conversation before dinner. “I’m not used to wearing this sort of thing, so the credit for my looks goes to them.”
Serale smiled radiantly. “They had a wonderful canvas to work with, I’m sure.” The smile lessened a bit. “I wanted to get you out, really I did. Mother and I have fought about it for a week. Was it horrible?”
Cobblestone shrugged. “Not too bad. Better than Crescent City was, that’s for sure.”
“I heard there was a break in,” Serale said. “What happened? I want to hear all about it.”
“Now, now,” a new voice chimed in, warm as wine. “Let the poor girl breathe.”
Cobblestone’s eyes boggled. Lady Everstar had appeared without a sound, seemingly out of thin air. Instinctively, she kneeled, averting her eyes. The purple unicorn giggled. “You can stand up, Cobblestone. No need to stand on ceremony here, this is strictly informal.”
Cobblestone rose warily, still not daring to look her ruler in the face. “Thank you, Milady. It was good of you to invite me to dine with you.”
Lady Everstar raised an eyebrow, impressed. “I see Libra has been coaching you,” she said. “You learn quickly. That’s good.” She gestured to the table. “Shall we sit?” she asked. “I think we’ve all skipped meals today. I don’t know about you two, but I’m famished.”
Serale and Cobblestone took their seats quickly. Cobblestone waited to see what Lady Everstar was going to do, so she wouldn’t make a misstep, but the only thing the monarch seemed interested in was the little bell by her plate. Picking it up delicately, she gave it a quiet ring. Immediately, a door on the far wall swung open, a cream-colored pony wearing a white smock and apron passing through. Several trays laden with covered plates floated behind her.
“Mademoiselles,” she said with a thick accent, bowing low behind a mane of black, “Tonight’s meal will be served in an informal Northern style. Our style of preparation for tonight showcases traditional dishes from across the Kingdom, and consists of five dishes. Tonight’s soup is cream of chanterelle mushroom with barley, inspired by cuisine native to Trottingham. This is followed by the entrée, a Gryphonian dish known as kuku sabzi, flavored with herbs and tomato along with naan bread.”
As she spoke, the tops of the dishes removed themselves, revealing a tureen of pale white soup and what looked to be a disk of green bread flecked with red. Sure enough, flat pieces of bread were laid alongside it in such a manner that they resembled a rose. The next cover lifted to reveal green vegetables soaking in wine.
“Alongside is a simple dish of cold asparagus vinaigrette seasoned with fresh pepper, popular in and around Crescent City. Our final dinner dish is a spiced pumpkin mash, a specialty of Ponyville, and tonight’s dessert is chocolate mousse with winter fruit. Wine shall be along shortly. May I bring anything else for you?”
Lady Everstar’s horn flashed, and the goblets on the tables filled themselves with red wine. “I think we’ll be fine, Kettle. Please inform the servants that we are not to be disturbed until the bell rings again.”
The chef bowed once more, pivoted, and strode from the room without another word. Cobblestone watched her go, and when she turned back to the table her plate had apparently been filled, along with Serale’s and Lady Everstar’s.
“Well?” Lady Everstar inquired. “Dig in!”
Both Serale and Cobblestone did as they were told. Cobblestone looked at the food on her plate, unsure of where to begin. Most of what was on her plate were things she’d never even heard of, with the exception of the asparagus. Deciding that there was as good a place as any to begin, she speared a piece of the asparagus with her fork, cutting a small portion. She lifted it to her mouth, hesitating for a moment, and put it in.
Her eyes widened in shock. Every taste in the dish was clear and present, and most of all, harmonious. The red wine in the dressing laid alongside the strong notes of pepper, all complimented by the smooth tastes of the asparagus itself. She chewed thoroughly, marveling in the sensations, before swallowing.
Lady Everstar watched her with a smile. “Good?” she asked.
Cobblestone nodded furiously. “It’s amazing,” she said.
Serale shook her head. “I don’t know how you could stand that,” she said. “I hate asparagus.” Sure enough, there was none on her own plate.
“I prefer the pumpkin,” Lady Everstar said. “It’s…”
Her eyes narrowed. “Hold on a moment,” she said. Her horn lit up with fuchsia magic, and the entire tablecloth lifted up. A moment later, she dragged a black, furry shape from underneath the table by its tail, holding it up in the air in a cocoon of magic. It yowled once, but went still once it saw Cobblestone.
“Hob!” she cried. “How did you get here?”
I walked, the cat said, flicking its ears irritably. Tell her to put me down, please.
Cobblestone had no need. Lady Everstar set the cat down near Cobblestone’s chair. Immediately, Hob leapt into Cobblestone’s lap, where he curled up, purring.
“There’s something strange about that cat,” Serale said, her food quite forgotten. “I’m sure he wasn’t here when I walked in. I mean, I even watched the servants lay the tablecloth. Where did he come from?”
Tell them nothing, Hob said. The mother knows, and the daughter has no need to.
Cobblestone concentrated. I’m not comfortable keeping secrets from Serale, she replied.
I mean her no harm, I swear by my Power.
Cobblestone sighed, settling for stroking Hob near the nape of his neck. His purring deepened, becoming almost audible. “I’m not sure,” she said. “He has a habit of popping up wherever he’s least expected. I’m glad he’s here, I was worried about him.”
Serale frowned, watching the cat. “That still doesn’t make any sense!” she said. “How could he have known where you were, or…”
“Serale,” Lady Everstar said, returning to her dinner, “What’s the rule regarding magic at the table?”
Serale’s face flushed. “It’s not appropriate conversation,” she muttered. “Sorry, mother.”
Lady Everstar took a sip of wine. “Cobblestone,” she said. “While I understand you’re glad to see Hob again, I’m afraid he’ll need to leave. If he can find his way to the kitchens, or be patient, I’ll have something made for him.”
Acceptable, Hob said. And appreciated. I’ll let you three get acquainted, shall I?
With that, Hob slunk to the floor, padding on silent paws across the room and out of view. There was silence for a while, which was broken by Lady Everstar.
“So!” she said brightly. “I’ve heard that the tryouts for your knights are tomorrow, Serale. How do you think they’ll go?”
Cobblestone busied herself with the food, keeping quiet while Serale spoke about credentials and experience, logistics and the like. She idly checked the clock in the corner of the room, and sighed internally. It was going to be a long dinner.