//------------------------------//
// The Gala (Part 1) 
// Story: Climbing the Mountain 
// by Talon and Thorn 
//------------------------------//

Humming quietly to herself, Fragrant admired her reflection in the mirror. Yes, she was very pleased with the dress that had been made for her. The black underskirt gripped her comfortingly tight and was short enough not to trip her or snag, while the looser outer layer was made in traditional Cloudsdale style, and the colour, white, highlighted her mane. The careful embroidering of her cutie mark on it was exquisite. Her mother’s locket hung from her neck, highlighted by the dress’ low neckline. Her mane was piled high on top of her head, apart from a few strands carefully positioned to shade her face; it had taken almost all afternoon for her hairdresser to get it perfect. Under it all, where no one could see, she wore black and white striped socks on her rear legs. She wasn’t normally so adventurous, but they made her feel more confident. This look should draw some jealous glances from her fellow nobles and maybe even a few desirous ones – not that she was interesting in things like that. She stretched a little and winced. The only problem with the ensemble was that it was rather tight and restraining around her wings. Still, she had certainly worn worse before.
 
Slowly trotting in a circle, she examined herself critically from all angles. Yes, she would certainly not be the most ornately dressed mare at the Gala, but she felt she looked her best. It had been many years since she’d made more than a cursory effort for the transitional ball at the end of the court's season. For the first time in... well, in a very long time indeed, she actually had somepony she wanted to impress, or at least she thought she had. She’d invited Max to come as her escort; she hoped he knew what that meant. To be honest, she wasn’t sure she knew herself. It was not unusual to invite guests of a non-romantic nature to the Gala – she had brought her own brother on several occasions – so the gesture did not actually mean anything... only, it did to her, maybe. The gesture had been a spur of the moment, the cap to an emotional rollercoaster of a day; she hadn’t been thinking quite straight.
 
She liked Mounty Max, there was no doubt of that. She found him interesting, and his simple and straightforward attitude was refreshing. Not to mention he was charming, honest, and moral. Plus his build, muscular – but not overly so; toned, hard, with just an edge of softness, to make it comfortable and to show he wouldn’t hurt her – was really quite easy on the eyes. She wondered what it would feel like to have that body pressed against her own, weighing her down, constricting while covering, protecting her... She shook herself, a frown creasing her brow. Where had that come from? Her tail twitched animatedly; she was still several weeks from her annual heat, unless she was early this year...
 
Anyway, enough of thinking that way. Yes, she liked Max, found him attractive, and she knew he felt the same way about her; he was not that subtle a pony. But should she proceed with the relationship? They were both busy ponies, courtiers, but others in the same situation still found time for relationships. They were no longer teacher and pupil, so there was no issue there. Still, it had been a long time since she... since there had been another in her life, and that still hurt even now and she couldn’t risk... wouldn’t risk that again.
 
Her ears pricked as she heard the faint jangle of a bell from the house’s upper entrance. She waited for a moment, then remembered that she had given most of the staff the day off. The end of the court’s year was almost a public holiday in Canterlot, so she had rewarded her servants accordingly. Wincing a little, she spread her wings – yes, the dress did indeed pinch – and flew towards the large shaft built in the centre of the house to allow easy transit between floors. She headed towards the roof, enjoying the feel of the sunlight filtering through the skylight on her body; working for the night court, she only got to see it during the summer. She reached the door set in the top of the house for flying visitors and pulled it open. “Good after...” she began before the large shape behind the door surged forwards and enveloped her, threatening to crush the life from her frailer form.
 
“Th... Thunderous,” she stuttered, recognising the other pony as her brother.
 
“Smelly!” he replied, loosening his grip slightly. “How are you?”
 
“The better for seeing you.” She nuzzled against him. “Didn’t you get my letter?” She had written to him yesterday to inform him he could not attend the Gala with her this year.
 
“Yes, but I’d already cleared my schedule so I thought me and Edelweiss might as well come along to drop off Forming. Even if we can’t go to the Gala, I’m sure we can spend some time together around town.”
 
After enjoying her brother’s hug for another few seconds, she broke away and turned to her sister-in-law, Edelweiss, and embraced the pale green-coated mare in turn. “It’s been too long.”
 
“We should vizit more often,” agreed Edelweiss in her lightly accented Equestrian, gently nuzzling the duchess to avoid messing up the latter’s styled mane. The former model was from Pferdreich, and had been friends with Fragrant for some time even before marrying her brother.
 
Pulling back, Fragrant turned to the third member of her family present, her niece Forming. She was sure the filly... no, mare now, had grown in the few months since she had last seen her; she had taken after her father and was taller and broader than many stallions. That, and her lime green coat and pink and white striped mane, made sure she would stand out in most crowds.
 
“Hi auntie.” Forming grinned before stepping forwards to hug the older mare.
 
“It’s good to see you, dear,” said Fragrant, luxuriating in the feeling of being surrounded by her family. It felt like a weight off her back; they were some of the few ponies she felt truly comfortable with.
 
“I made you a present,” said Forming, carefully producing a small cloud sculpture and passing it to her aunt. Fragrant examined it; it showed the whole family, herself, Thunderous, Edelweiss, Forming and Dangerous. Even Fluttering was present, standing tucked between her younger siblings. The work was exquisite.
 
“Oh thank you, it’s gorgeous. Did you make it at university?”
 
“Yes, it was for one of my projects.” She beamed with pride. “The professor wanted to put it on display, but I thought you’d like it more.”
 
Fragrant smiled back. Her niece had always been artistically talented, as her mark indicated; although her father had talked her into majoring in clouditecture, she had insisted in also taking art classes. Thundering could be rather controlling of his children’s lives sometimes. “I’ll treasure it. Where’s Dangerous?” She looked around. “Couldn’t he make it?”
 
“He’s off wiz his friends, probably dragon baiting or something,” said Edelweiss with a shudder.
 
“He’s tornado riding, and you know he’ll be safe. He’s never found a challenge he couldn’t overcome,” said Thunderous, his eyes sparkling with paternal pride.
 
Edelweiss looked like she was going to argue for a moment, then relaxed and nodded.
 
“Thank you for letting me be your proxy for the summer, auntie,” said Forming, stepping forwards and trying to defuse the tension between her parents.
 
“That’s all right, dear, but don’t worry; I’m going to stay here for a few weeks to make sure you settle in, and you’ll have the best staff possible to help you,” said Fragrant, a little anxiously. “Anyway, you must all stay here while you’re in town, I insist, I’ve got plenty of room.” She gestured around the estate; it did often feel rather empty with just her and the servants.
 
“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” said Thunderous.
 
“Your rooms are this way.” She gestured down towards the lower levels and the whole family swooped down.
 
“Are you sure she’s ready for this?” whispered Fragrant to her brother. “You know what being my proxy did to Fluttering. I can have Notebook stand in for me while she observes again.”
 
“No. She’ll be finishing university soon; if she’s to succeed you at court, she needs more practical experience. Besides, you know how dead court normally is during summer. Forming isn’t Fluttering; she’s stronger, she can take it.”
 
Fragrant frowned. Her brother’s argument made sense, but she was still worried. Spending time at court had been a big contributing factor in her eldest niece’s breakdown; she couldn’t bear to hurt another member of her family.
 
“Anyway, who is it you’re taking to the Gala this year, now that I’m not good enough for you? You haven't been talking to Rising Star behind my back, have you?”
 
Fragrant shuddered a little; her brother had long been trying to fix her up with his best friend. Rising was a nice enough stallion, she supposed, but frankly she found his constant chatter on weather matters boring. “No, I am taking a colleague this year.”
 
“A colleague? Would it happen to be that Baron Max chap you’ve had so much to say about in your letters?” He raised an eyebrow.
 
Fragrant struggled to prevent a blush from spreading across her face. “Yes, the baron will be escorting me.”
 
“Just escorting? Nothing more?”
 
“He is a colleague, and a friend.” She didn’t feel she was ready to tell Thunderous anything more, yet; she wasn’t sure exactly what she wanted to do herself. Plus he would be teasing her for ever about it, and she’d had to find out about him and Edelweiss from a mutual friend, so there!
 
“Well, you’ve certainly put some effort into your look for your friend.” He grinned and gestured at her outfit. “Rather more than when I was escorting you.”
 
Now there was no hope of stopping her face from glowing. “I... I just felt like looking my best this year,” she stuttered. “Anyway,” she turned away, “Look at the time, I better get you settled in so I’m not late.”
 
Thunderous chuckled as his sister rushed away.
 



 
Whistling to himself, Max examined himself in his mirror. He had considered getting himself a new outfit for the Gala, but he still really liked the red suit he’d bought during his first day in Canterlot. He thought it make him look dynamic, heroic, a stallion of action. Glancing around for a moment to make sure he was alone, he reared up and struck a pose. “Looking good, Mounty,” he muttered. “Looking real good!”
 
“Stop doing that thing in front of the mirror,” came Mrs G’s voice from downstairs. Max dropped guiltily back onto all fours.
 
“Sorry, Mrs G,” he cried. How did she do that?
 
His assistant had asked if she could borrow his kitchen, to prepare some treats for the assistants’ party taking place at the same time as the gala. His was better equipped than hers, so he’d of course agreed and once again told her that she was free to move in with him if she wanted. But she still insisted she wanted her privacy.
 
Sighing slightly, he picked up his hat and carefully placed it on his head, twisting it from side to side until he looked his best. Right, now he was ready for his... whatever this was with Fragrant. She’d said he was invited as her escort, but what did that actually mean? He knew what it technically meant – he’d been Buttercup’s escort to the Jubilation – but he didn’t dream that this would end the same way. Well he had dreamt, several times, extremely vividly; that was part of the problem. From the first moment he’d met Fragrant he had been attracted to her – her glittering eyes, graceful gait, long legs – at first he’d taken it for simple lust, but as he’d spent more and more time with her he’d become even more entranced. She was smart, generous, kind, good, and so far out of his reach. She was a duchess, personal friends with a vicereine, and favoured by Luna, while he was the most junior member of the court, probably two hundred or so steps below her, who constantly messed up only for her to help him out. He’d tried to resign himself to never be more than a friend to her, but now this. Was she just being generous, or was there the possibility of something more?
 
He slumped onto his bed, crumpling his suit. Mrs G had already said he got things wrong when he thought about them too much, and this was running round and round his head. Should he treat this like a date and risk embarrassing himself and, more importantly, Fragrance? Or as a meeting between friends, and risk missing out? He just didn’t know. All he could do would be to hope that something came to him on the spur of the moment. Maybe she would give him some sign of her intentions. Alcohol might even help him work up the courage to say something.
 
Standing and straightening his suit again, Max made his way downstairs towards the kitchen, following the smell of Mrs G’s cooking. The old Nanny was standing next to the oven, several empty bowls lying around. Max considered himself a fair cook – enough to look after himself, anyway – but his assistant was an expert, in his opinion almost as good as his mother. He walked over to one of the bowls and peered inside. “What are you making?” he asked, dipping a hoof into the remains of the mixture.
 
“Kroop berry flapjacks,” announced Mrs G, slapping away his hoof. “Don’t, you’ll spoil your appetite.”
 
“Oooh, I always loved those,” exclaimed Max, licking at his hoof.
 
“It wasn’t easy to get the berries. Aren't you getting fed at the Gala?”
 
“You know it’s not the same. None of the food there will hold a candle to yours.”
 
“Flatterer. But you’re still not getting any.”
 
Looking dejected, Max was about to reply when there was a rapid knocking on the door. He frowned; he wasn’t expecting anypony.
 
“That’s probably for me. I agreed to meet up with a friend here,” said Mrs G.
 
“I’ll go let her in, then,” said Max, trotting over to the door. He swung it open and was surprised to see an agitated-looking Buttercup Fields. “Buttercup, what...?”
 
“Max, I need your help!” she said, her tail flicking agitatedly.
 
“What is it? Is it your father?”
 
“No, no, he’s fine, he’s still asleep, I hope. I just need your help with something.”
 
Max paused. “What is this about? I don’t have much time, I need to go and...”
 
“Max, please! This is urgent!” she insisted.
 
Max examined her for a moment. She seemed genuine. “Ok, what’s up?”
 
“I can’t talk here. Come with me!” She grabbed his hoof and began to pull him out the door.
 
“Make sure she doesn’t make you late for your date with Fragrance,” called Mrs Grobnar with a little venom in her voice as her boss was dragged away. Muttering to herself, she put on a mouth guard and opened the oven, revealing a freshly baked tray of flapjacks. She inhaled deeply; they smelt properly cooked. She was just moving them to a cooling rack when there was a knock on the door.
 
She spat out the mouth guard. “Come in!” she called.
 
A white-coated and maned mare quietly trotted into the room, clad in a simple little black dress and her mane flowing down her back. “Are you ready?” she asked.
 
“Give me a few minutes for these to cool, and we can go. You’ve got the booze?”
 
The mare nodded, indicating her saddlebags packed with bottles. “Yes.”
 
“I thought your miaghstir wanted you to go to the gala with him?”
 
“I told him I was washing my mane,” said Notary. “I’m sure he can last one night without me without a fight with the Viceroys or something.”
 



 
Buttercup quickly led Max through the streets of Canterlot towards her home. She continued to avoid his attempts to find out what was happening. Soon they were standing in front of the Fields’ residence; it was only a little larger than Max’s house, but in a rather more prestigious part of the city. It was walled off and surrounded by a fairly large garden, full of a dazzling array of flowers. Buttercup rushed to the door and pulled Max into the house, hurriedly shutting it again behind them.
 
The young mare quickly but, Max thought, stealthily, made her way through the house to one of the sitting rooms. There, slumped over a table, was the unmoving body of pale green unicorn stallion with a slicked back grey mane.
 
Max gasped. “Buttercup! What... who... what did you do?”
 
“He came around while father was napping, he knew, he knew what I did for father, he tried to proposition me, said he’d tell the guard, the princess, unless I... I let him do things to me.” She shuddered in revulsion. “I had to stop him, I couldn’t let anypony know, so I played along. I got him a bottle of wine and while his back was turned I... I...”
 
The ‘corpse’ let out a grunt and fell off the table, landing on the floor with a thud. It was quiet for moment, before letting out a nasal snore.
 
“...I spiked the drink with a sleeping draft!”
 
“Oh!” muttered Max, his heart rate starting to return to normal. Had he really been ready to accept that Buttercup could have killed somepony? Still, to think she drugged him; he didn’t know she had that in her.
 
“I need you to help me, help me get him out of here before dad wakes up.”
 
“Shouldn’t we tell the guard? He tried to blackmail you, tried to get you to...” He didn’t want to finish the sentence.
 
“No, we can’t risk him telling anypony, dad would be so ashamed of me.”
 
Max eyed the stallion on the floor. “What are we going to do with him, then?”
 
“I know where he lives, we can just drop him off there, he should sleep all night.”
 
“You know where he lives? Who is he?” Max looked back and forth between Buttercup and the unconscious stallion.
 
“He’s called Dirt Digger, he... he trades in secrets, at court. He’s tried to, well, ask me out before, we met at some function or other, but I told him no, he... he’s repulsive. He didn’t take no for an answer, he’s came round a few times, father threatened to beat him once, he said he’d find something to change my mind.” She paced back and forth nervously.
 
“Buttercup, we have to tell the guard about all this. What if he’s like this with other mares? We have to stop him.”
 
“Pretty,” mumbled Dirt from the floor, his tongue lolling out of his mouth.
 
“Please, just for tonight, we can sort out what to do with him tomorrow. Please help me, Max. Dad will be waking up soon, he can’t find Dirt here.” She looked up at Max, eyes wide and glittering with unshed tears. He felt his resolve rapidly dwindling.
 
“Ok, I’ll help, but we have to do something about this.” Tomorrow, he resolved to tell the guard. Maybe he could keep Buttercup’s name out of it all somehow. He walked over to the limp form on the floor and tried to wrestle it onto his back.
 
“Party all night long,” mumbled Dirt as he started to slip off of Max’s back. He slumped flank first back onto the ground. “Treat me so bad,” he continued.
 
Max kneeled, and together, he and Buttercup managed to lever Dirt into position on his back, more or less stable.
 
“Ok, lead on,” said Max, standing again.
 
The three of them made their way towards the lower levels of Canterlot, trying to avoid the main pathways and keeping to the shadows. The city was humming; the Gala was mainly for the court, but the city hosted many other parties celebrating the midsummer. Ponies making their last minute preparations ran here and there.
 
They finally made their way to Dirt’s residence, a mid-sized house on the sixth level of the city, tucked away down a dark alley.
 
“It’s locked,” noted Max, pushing the door gently. “How do we get in?”
 
“I don’t know,” mumbled Buttercup, looking nervously down the path. A guard was approaching them from the main thoroughfare, although he didn’t seem to have noticed them yet. She took Dirt’s head in her hooves and slapped him gently.
 
“Huh... wha’...” he snorted. “Wha’ happen...”
 
“We spent the night together,” she explained, trying to keep the disgust out of her voice.
 
“Was I good?” he asked, eyes crossing.
 
“You were.” She shuddered. “Amazing, but now you’re tired out.”
 
“Yeah... tired, so... tired.” His eyes started to droop closed again.
 
“Wait! Wait, you want to get home first, to get to bed, with... with me.”
 
“Yeah, bed, home.”
 
“But you need to open the door to get to bed, can you do that? Can you open the door? I’d be so grateful.”
 
“Open door,” he slurred, and his horn glowed intermittently for a second. There was a click from the door and it swung open.
 
“Our friend started celebrating a bit early, officer,” offered Max, trying to sound sincere as the guard trotted past. He halted for a moment, looking at the three of them, but then nodded and carried on as Max and Buttercup carried Dirt into the building.
 
The room behind was a dump; it didn’t look like the house’s owner had cleaned in weeks. Bits of uneaten and often mouldy food were scattered around. Here and there were pictures and bits of parchment nailed to the wall. Max unceremoniously dropped Dirt onto a settee. His head landed part in a bowl of what might have been soup a few weeks ago.
 
Max and Buttercup quickly left, closing the door behind them.
 
“Thank you,” said Buttercup. “I couldn’t have done that by myself.”
 
“I think you might be more capable that you think, but we do need to do something about him.”
 
“Tomorrow, we can do it tomorrow. Now I need to get back, before father misses me.”
 
Max looked up, the sun was low in the sky. “I need to get to Fragrant’s place, she’s expecting me.”
 
“You’re going to the gala with Duchess Posey?” asked Buttercup, paling slightly.
 
“Yes, she asked me to be her escort.”
 
“Oh, well, good luck, I’m... I’m sure you’ll be very happy together. Oh, I really must be off.” She quickly turned and started to gallop off towards her home.
 
Oh, thought Max. She probably wasn’t over him, then. He wished things had ended better between them, but after what she’d asked of him, he couldn’t. He sighed and kicked at the pavement. Why did things have to get so complicated? He should probably get out of here before anything else came up; he didn’t want to be too late.
 



 
Fragrant checked the clock again and sighed. Right on time was the only time you could guarantee Max wouldn’t be about; either he would turn up early because he couldn’t wait, or late because he got caught up in something else. It should be annoying, but she found it endearing. Still, it would not do to be too late to the Gala. She had a sky chariot wanting to take them; the journey would only be a few minutes, but her position meant she was expected to arrive in style. Glancing out the window, she saw Max galloping towards her estate. Ah, good. She trotted towards the ground level entrance to the house both a spring in her step and a block of ice in her gut. Steeling herself she opened the door just as Max was going to know.
 
“Baron Mounty Max, you are late,” she said a little reproachfully.
 
“Oh, um, sorry I get caught up in a few things,” he smiled bashfully.
 
How could she be angry with that face? “Well you are here now, I think we should...” She was interrupted as another pony rushed up behind Max. Buttercup! What was she doing here? A spear of jealousy stabbed into Fragrant. “Lady Fields, I was not expecting to see you here, with Max,” she said icily. “I believed that he was going to be my escort to the Gala.” At the back of her head, a primitive cave pony part of her was chanting mine, mine, mine.
 
“I brought him something,” mumbled Buttercup.
 
“What?” demanded Fragrant poorly hiding her ire.

The younger mare held up a construction of purple flowers, the stems carefully knitted together into a band. "From my fathers garden."

“Asters?” said Max, taking the flowers. "But these..."

Buttercup elbowed Max, the physical contact caused Fragrant to seethe a little more, then pointed to the pegasus.
 
“Oh right, Asters! there’s a tradition back in Nulpar that you present them to your... your good friends before you go out.”
 
Buttercup looked at him sharply for a moment. “Max asked me to bring them to him because my talent is arranging things to look their best, including flowers.” She indicated the vase of yellow flowers on her flank.
 
“Oh!” said Fragrant. The bottom seemed to drop out of her mind and all her mixed emotions poured away, leaving a feeling of embarrassment. Even the cave pony shuffled off back to her cave. Max gently lifted one of her forelegs and worked the ring of stems up it, leaving tingling sensations wherever his hooves touched. “Thank you, both of you. They are lovely!” said abruptly as she sniffed the flowers; they did smell nice. “However, we will have to be off, we do not want to be late.” She spun on her heels and marched towards the house, “Come along, Max!”
 



 
The flight to the castle was short and silent. Fragrant seemed to be avoiding looking at him, noted Max. She seemed to be jealous of Buttercup. It was both an intriguing and worrying idea, thought Max as they gently touched down outside the castle’s courtyard. It would mean that she might feel something for him, but also that he might have already messed things up.
 
Apparent there had been some sort of last minute change; the Gala was to be held out in the courtyard, rather than in the grand hall. Something about an influx of new guests? He didn’t entirely understand it, though Fragrant could probably explain. Still, it seemed a good idea to him; the hall would be rather stuffy, and it was warm enough to hold the whole thing outside under the Princess’ moon. He quickly hopped out of the chariot once it parked itself around so many others, and offered Fragrant his hoof to help dismount. She looked unsure for a moment, then accepted his help and stepped regally from the vehicle. Around them, a horde of ponies were gathered; commoners held back by a line of guards, members of press and nobles alike, were all in attendance. A long queue of courtiers and other important ponies stretched toward the closed gates leading to the courtyard. Whether by luck or some sort of planning, he and Fragrant ended up amongst the higher nobility as they joined the line. Vicereine Puissance herself was standing only a few body lengths away, and Archduke Fisher and Duke Greengrass were close as well.
 
The whole thing seemed to have a carnival atmosphere, and some of the guests were even singing as they waited for the event to start. Max felt a little out of sorts; he didn’t really feel like he belonged here. Around them nobles cavorted, sang and in some cases even started on their drinks. To Max, it seemed like many were trying too hard; there was a certain tension in the air. He was about to ask Fragrance if something was wrong, when a young blue-coated unicorn mare strode past, acting as if she owned the castle. She would stop every so often to say a few words to one noble or another, and not usually complementary ones – to Max’s astonishment, she accused Fisher of being fat before trotting over to Fragrant.
 
“Duchess Posey, you look well. I trust no accusations are forthcoming this time?”
 
Fragrant opened her mouth to speak, but the mare was already gone, on to her next victim.
 
“Who was that? What was that about?” asked Max.
 
Fragrant sighed and rubbed her head. “That was Trixie Lulamoon, representative of Ponyville, student of her highness and...”
 
“The element of magic!” gasped Max, craning his neck out to see her again. Ahead of them, the gates to the courtyard started to open. “I thought she’d be older, and maybe taller. What was she talking about?”
 
“There was a misunderstanding,” explained Fragrant. “I accused her of carrying out a vendetta against my niece, but I was wrong. I suppose I really should apologize properly some when.” She turned to Max, looking a little nervous. “You're happy to be here, aren't you? Here with me? You wouldn’t rather spend time with somepony else, say Buttercup?”
 
Max’s brow furrowed. What was she...? Was she really jealous? “No, of course not,” he said entirely truthfully. “There is nopony I would rather be with right now. This sort of bash might not really be my thing, but I’m sure we’ll have a wonderful time.”
 
Fragrant looked relieved. “Good, that’s very good to hear.” Max held out a hoof and Fragrant wrapped her own around it as two of them marched through the gates of the courtyard.
 
Max gasped as he looked around. The interior of the courtyard had been radically restyled in the last few hours. Instead of sky above them, there was a glistening ceiling rising into the sky, glittering with a thousand star-like lights. Walls rose all around them; several levels and balconies had been formed around them, creating a structure large enough to hold the hundreds of ponies due to arrive. The whole construction was made, not of stone or brick or wood, but of ice. Max tapped the floor with his hoof; it seemed sold and not actually cold or slippery. He assumed it was all a fantastic work of magic. “An ice palace,” he said, turning around on the stop to try and take in the whole structure.
 
Next to him, Fragrant made a better job of suppressing her wonder. “I hope this one lasts longer than the last,” she muttered.
 
“What was that?” asked Max.
 
“I’ll tell you later. Come on, we’re blocking the doorway.” It wasn’t true – the doorway was wide enough that a dozen or more ponies could pass at a time – but still they made their way into the space beyond. They were quickly stopped by a herald who officially announced them. Max was surprised by the number of titles Fragrant seemed to hold, it took several minutes for the herald to go through them all; his own ‘baron of Nulpar’ seemed rather pathetic by comparison to ‘heir to the pegasus empire’. Still, nopony seemed to pay much attention and the two of them trotted into the palace still arm in arm.
 
He noticed Baron Mellow Dramatic prance by, head high and a wing resting on the back of a short chubby unicorn mare in a flowery dress. He and Lady Confidant really did make a nice couple, thought Max. Glancing aside, he noticed Count Kibitz and his wife following the younger couple quite closely. The count still looked rather suspicious of Mellow. Max hoped everything would work out.
 
“Would you like a drink?” he asked Fragrant, noting the swarm of servants swirling around the room delivering glasses to the guests.
 
Fragrant considered. “A fruit juice, please. I find it best to keep a clear head at events such as these. There will be enough pictures of inebriated nobles in the papers tomorrow as it is.” She nodded towards the few members of the press present.
 
Max flagged down a passing waiter and ordered Fragrant’s drink. He asked for a mead for himself but got a blank look. Sighing, he changed his order to a cider. Fragrant’s suggestion sounded good, but he felt that a little alcohol might help with what he thought he might ask Fragrant about later, maybe.
 
Swinging his gaze around the room, Max noted a large group of ponies, maybe two hundred, gathered on the far side of the hall. Although clearly dressed in their finest, they mostly looked a little shabby compared to the nobility who were keeping their distance from them. “Who are they?” asked Max.
 
Fragrant looked just as confused as he did and opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, the great double doors at the back of the hall opened and a large white unicorn stallion in a red blue and silver dress uniform marched in: the captain of the guard.
 
“Lords and Ladies,” he bellowed. The room quickly dropped into silence. “Mares and gentlecolts: Her Majesty, Princess Luna Equestris!”
 
The room broke into a loud round of applause as the alicorn of the night trotted out. However, it quickly faltered, then stopped entirely. Max looked around, trying to figure out what was wrong. The princess was wearing less than he’d ever seen on her before: her peytral and shoes were missing, her body covered by a plain blue cloak. The only mark of her rank was her crown. Her regalia did look a little uncomfortable to Max; maybe the gala was the one time she got to let her hair down, so to speak.
 
Luna stood in silence for a moment, then closed her eyes and her starfield-like mane and tail slowly faded to a braid of light azure tied with a black ribbon.
 
Max hadn't known she could do that. He guessed she really was letting her hair down.
 
Stretching out one long wing, the princess indicated the courtiers. “Lords and ladies,” she intoned, before stretching out her other wing towards the other guests. “Mares and gentlecolts. All those in attendance tonight – I welcome you now to the Grand Galloping Gala.”
 
There was a further round of applause, which the princess quickly cut off with a raised hoof.  “Thirteen days ago,” she said gravely, “the town of Ponyville was attacked by a minion of the Tyrant Sun, who placed a magical, terrible curse upon the town that forced the good mares and stallions of Ponyville to destroy and lay waste to their own homes. This has been the most devastating act of Corona against Equestria since she escaped from the burning heart of the sun.” There was a gasp from several of the nobles, while the common folk all looked grim. “The curse was broken, but the damage remained. Ponyville looked to Canterlot for aid… and I am ashamed to say that the agencies of Canterlot, the ministries, the precautions, and the systems that I put in place to forestall or, failing that, recover from disaster, were found wanting.”
 
Max turned his eyes to Fragrant. She was looking extremely uncomfortable, shuffling her hooves and looking pale. He knew she was on one of the aid committees. Was this something she knew about?
 
“While the greatest failing lies at the hooves of the Royal Emergency Management Ministry,” Luna continued, “this crisis was not a secret one. It was made public immediately, the disaster and scale was known to each and every member of Canterlot’s elite. Yet nothing was done for ten days. Ten days of worry, of panic, of a betrayal of the trust and the faith that the common ponies of Equestria place within the hooves of its nobility, trust and faith that are given with certain basic expectations which were not met. Yes, it was the duty of the REMM to respond, and yes, it failed to perform that duty with the alacrity that I expect of it. But I consider it the duty of each and every noble, upon seeing the failings of the REMM, to step up, to organize a response, to do more than simply sit and watch as events unfold. That is nevertheless what happened. Worst of all, however, is the assumption that I made, that everything was working as it should have, an apparently foolish expectation that left the Crown as guilty of complacency as any in the Night Court.”
 
Max lowered his gaze. He had heard of some disaster in Ponyville, but had assumed somepony else was dealing with it. Luna was right; he could have helped in some small way. The town wasn’t far away; he could have lent a hoof in person. There was bound to have been something he could do.
 
“Citizens of Ponyville,” continued Luna, “the Night Court is ultimately an extension of me. Its faults are my faults. Its failure to bring aid to your town swiftly is my failure to do so – and all of this lies stacked atop my further failure to act when the Night Court did not. And so, for that failing, and from the bottom of my heart, I have invited as many citizens of your town here tonight as I was able, that I might beg your forgiveness.” With that the Princess, astonishingly, dropped to her knees and bowed towards the guests from Ponyville.
 
The room seemed to hold its breath for a moment before a mare with a brown coat and grey mane trotted from the group of Ponyvillians and approached the alicorn with only a little trepidation. “Princess,” she said, sounding a little nervous, “I don’t think there is anypony in Ponyville who thinks that what happened is your fault.”
 
“Perhaps not,” replied Luna. “But it is my responsibility.”
 
The spokesmare looked back at her townsfolk for a moment, to see they were all nodding vigorously. Then she turned back to Luna with a smile. “Your Majesty, we forgive you.”
 
The Princess looked relieved and nodded again “Thank-you,” she said, rising to her hooves. “Normally, the Gala is a night of excess and celebration. For the benefit of our Ponyvillian guests tonight, let it remain such – and, once the Gala has passed and the normal business of the Night Court resumes, let us hope that we all remember the ponies we serve, and who it is that we are held accountable to when we fail in our duties.”
 
Behind her, the band started up a slow sombre number but with a note of hope within it, played by a grey-coated cellist.
 
“That was... I didn’t know that was going to happen, did you?” asked Max. Fragrant still looked discombobulated, but seemed to be trying to pull herself together.
 
“I didn’t know what Luna had planned,” she said. “But,” she lowered her gaze, “I was partially responsible for the failure of the REMM, I... I did not do all I could have to speed things along.” For a moment she seemed like she was going to say more, but she kept silent.
 
“Well I’m sure they all understand,” he said, gesturing towards the citizens of Ponyville mostly still standing on their side of the hall, looking a little out of sorts. “After all, they forgave the Princess.”
 
“She was not in the wrong. I am, and I am hardly a princess.”
 
Max opened his mouth for a moment. He so wanted to say, you are to me, but he couldn’t get his tongue to move. “Come on,” he finally managed. “You won’t know until you try.” He took Fragrant by the hoof and, tugging slightly, started to lead her across the room towards the Ponyvillians.
 
“Max! What are you...?” started Fragrant. Max ignored her for a moment and stopped in front of the first Ponyville citizen he could find: a red pegasus stallion with a slightly greying light green mane.
 
“Excuse me, sir?” began Max.
 
“Red Splasher,” said the stallion, looking surprised.
 
“I’m Baron Mounty Max and this is Duchess Fragrant Posey. I’m sorry to hear of your problems, and like the Princess said, we really should have done more to help. Is there anything we can do now?”
 
The stallion looked absolutely shocked for a moment. “Well, um, well, I’ve heard that we’re getting the aid we asked for now, but, well, I don’t suppose you know anything about getting funding for a fire department? We’re just part time at the moment, but things seem to be getting more dangerous all the time and, well, some new equipment wouldn’t go amiss.”
 
“Oh, I know what you mean,” agreed Max, “Back home in Sadlzburg we found it so hard to...”
 
Fragrant quickly cut off Max before he could get too involved in his story. “Mr Splasher, I was on the committee that should have approved Ponyville’s aid. I... I am sorry for the delay in dealing with your request.” She lowered her head in contrition. “I could have done more, more quickly.”
 
The red stallion was silent for a moment, seeming to weigh up his options. “That’s very big of you to admit it, duchess,” he said finally, “and it seems like things are being settled now, so... I accept your apology. I don’t want to speak for the whole town, but we’re normally a forgiving lot.”
 
“Thank you,” said Fragrant with a smile. “Now, about your other problem, well, I believe my brother’s factories may produce some equipment which might be of use to you...”
 



 
“Of course, I do understand that your new bill has opened up the water market somewhat, but I still think that Cloudsdale should be paying a higher premium,” said Baronet Slime Ball. He gave a hacking cough for a moment.
 
Max fought to keep his eyes open. Fragrant and himself had spent some time talking to a some of the Ponyville contingent – Max had found them to be quite an interesting lot, their town reminded him of home – but eventually they had gotten caught up in a number of discussions with other members of the nobility. Fragrant seem to be in her element, although Max thought he’d seen her eyes glaze over from time to time. But for Max, it was torture. He didn’t think he’d ever been as bored in his life. “Um, does anypony want a drink? I’ll get a round?” he asked
 
Fragrant raised an eyebrow. Max could almost make out her thoughts. There are servants for that, Max. He widened his eyes pleadingly. A small smile graced her face. Very well, but don’t be long, it said.
 
“I think I could do with another orange juice,” agreed Fragrant.
 
“Ah, well I suppose I could try the punch,” said Slime Ball. “But there are...”
 
“I’ll be right back,” interrupted Max, quickly rushing off in a random direction. Once out of sight of the baronet, he slumped down and tried to enjoy his few moments of peace.
 
“Hey Max!” came a cry.
 
Or maybe not. He glanced around to see a nearby ice construct, a sort of playground surrounded by a short wall within in which several dozen foals were cavorting. Sticking her head over the wall was an orange filly with a wild purple mane. “Scootaoo?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”
 
“Dad won a ticket and brought me along.” She turned back to her playmates. “Hey guys, this is that cool old dude I met on the school trip, the one that showed me how to climb that huge wall.” Several foals stuck their heads out of various parts of the play equipment and started a chorus of hellos! From a quieter corner a yellow filly with a purple mane looked up from the castle she was sculpting from snow and waved. Her horn flashed as she moulded the snow with her magic while holding it in place with her wings. Max blinked. That was certainly unusual.
 
“Hey, Max!” called Scootaloo again. “Look what I can do!” She clambered onto a small tower and wrapped her fetlocks around a set of monkey bars, swinging herself a little clumsily between them.
 
Max watched for a moment. “That’s pretty good, but I think I could do better,” he boasted.
 
“Yeah? Prove it,” challenged Scootaloo. A crowd of foals added their voices to the discussion.
 
Max glanced over one of the guards standing next to the playground. The mare rolled her eyes for a moment, then gave a small nod, and Max clambered over the wall into the playground.
 



 
Where had Max gotten to? thought Fragrant. It must have been half an hour since she’d last seen him. Had he dumped her? Gotten lost? Got distracted by something shiny? She swore, he could be so unreliable sometimes.
 
“Excuse me, baronet, but I really do need to speak to the archduke over there,” said Fragrant, politely pointing towards Fisher and his surrounding cronies.
 
“Of course, duchess,” said Slime Ball, before continuing his conversation with the other nobles around him.
 
Fragrant took a few steps towards the archduke, then quickly turned away. She had no desire to talk to Fisher tonight, but she had to get away from Slime Ball somehow. Although the issues he had raised were valid, she had no desire to go over them again now. She scanned the room for a sign of Max.
 
“Excuse me, duchess, may I have a few moments?” came a voice from beside her.
 
She turned, meaning to politely turn down the request, when her eyes fell upon a familiar blue-coated unicorn, Night Light! “Your Grace!” Was he here to threaten her more? His actions yesterday suggested he held a grudge over her telling Luna of his actions.
 
Her worry must have shown on her face, as he raised a calming hoof. “Peace, I have come to apologize to you.”
 
“Apologize, viceroy?” she asked in surprise.
 
“Yes, I am very aware that it was you that informed the Princess of my... manipulations.” He sighed. “In a way, I am glad that somepony did that. I... I was out of control and was getting worse. It was just supposed to be a punishment on Trixie, but one manipulation needed another and another and another. It took another of the guests here to make me fully aware of what I was doing.” He drew himself up. “I am sorry for what I put you through, the dilemma I forced on you, and I’m glad you made the right decision. I will take no more actions against you in this matter. I... I just miss my daughter, wherever she might be.” He slumped for a moment, seeming older; no longer one of the most powerful stallion in Equestria, in his place stood a worried father. Fragrant wanted to reach out to comfort him. She knew what it was like to worry about a family member... to lose... then he straightened again and his mask slipped back in place.
 
“I accept your apology, viceroy,” said Fragrant. “Will you be speaking to the others you have hurt? Jet Stream? The ponies of Ponyville? Trixie?”
 
Night Light twitched a little at the last name. “I have already made an apology to Lulamoon as her highness requested,” he said a little tightly.
 
“She is not as bad as she seems,” said Fragrant. “I had my own quarrel with her but it was unfounded. I think she has grown over the last few months; she’s less rash. At least try to talk to her.”
 
“I will think on it, duchess,” he said with a small bow. “But for now I must be off.”
 
Fragrant curtsied as she watched him go. She hoped things could be worked out. Still, it was a weight off her mind that he did not hold a grudge against her. Now, where had Max gotten off to? She looked around the room and saw a flash of red nearby. There was Max, hanging from a set of bars by his front hooves, his rear legs held to his stomach to stop them from dragging on the ground. A small purpley grey-coated unicorn filly was clutching his neck and giggling loudly as he swung from bar to bar, pursued by a small mob of foals. On the ground, an earth pony colt was running about wearing Max’s hat; it covered his entire head, making seeing a problem.
 
Fragrant couldn’t help but smile. It was hardly behaviour becoming a member of the Night Court, but it was adorable. She really couldn’t remain mad at him if he kept doing things like this. She trotted over to the area and rested her head on the surrounding wall. In front of her, Max dexterously flipped around on the bars and advanced on his pursuers, making growling sounds. The other foals squealed and fell over each other, trying to get out of the way.
 
He was really very good with foals, she thought. She imagined him playing with a number of imaginary children, maybe a small pegasus filly with a pink mane and a grey coat? Or a yellow earth pony colt? She shook herself. No, that was never going to happened, even if... she couldn’t risk it again.
 
“Oh, hi, duchess,” called Max from the climbing frame, waving to her while maintaining his grip with one hoof. His small passenger waved as well, but quickly wrapped her hooves back around his neck as she started to slip. “I guess I lost track of time.”
 
“Well, I should have guessed I would find you here with the other foals, Baron Max.” She raised a disapproving eyebrow but couldn’t help but grin.
 
“It’s not much different than court when you think about it, really,” said Max.
 
“Hey lady!” called an orange-coated pegasus.
 
“Duchess,” corrected Fragrant automatically.
 
“Ok, Lady Duchess, you want to play too?”
 
“Well...” said Fragrant, taken aback by the offer. It did seem strangely attractive, and it had been a while since any of her nieces or her nephew had been young enough to play with. “I’m afraid I’m not quite as physical as Baron Max.”
 
“If you’re not keen on the climbing frame, there are other options,” pointed out Max, indicating the rest of the play area.
 
“Well, maybe the snow pit is more my speed.” She smiled at the filly who had created quite an intricate structure out of snow. Then her eyes widened and the smile dropped from her face and she staggered back, her normally pale yellow coat turning almost white. It couldn’t be her, she was... was it a ghost, a spirit? “My princess,” she muttered, struggling to stop herself shaking. How could this be! What was happening? She was gone, this couldn’t be her. This must be another, another like her, they were rare but not unknown. But just looking at her hurt, sent arrows of pain into her heart.
 
“Um, are you... are you alright?” asked the filly, keeping her eyes lowered.
 
“I’m sorry, I thought... I thought you were,” stuttered Fragrant, tears starting to leak from her eyes. “I’m sorry, I have... I have to go.” She turned and rushed away, barging through the crowds towards the nearest lavatory.
 
“Fragrant?” cried Max as she ran off. “What’s wrong?”