Chapter One – When Ponyville Benefits…
“When Ponyville benefits, Equestria benefits; and when Equestria benefits, Ponyville benefits even more.”
Princess Celestia rarely interrupted other ponies’ presentations, a fact that Twilight Sparkle should have picked up on. The Project Engineer was in the process of summarizing the benefits of the Equestrian High-Speed Rail Project, and he had just gotten to the part specific to Ponyville when the Princess made her comment.
It seemed like the sort of innocuous truism that her mentor was fond of spouting: Twilight had become immune to it, and she brushed it off with a smile and a nod. In fact, the whole Project itself seemed excessively important for its caliber, something that would normally be within the pay grade of a functionary like Mayor Mare. Of course Twilight knew the stated reasons – it was a national project, the Government was sinking a billion bits into it, its construction would need the co-ordination of a hundred bureaucracies – but still, she couldn’t help but feel that this was simply yet another lesson in the Crash Course to Alicorn Administration, Head Professor: Princess Celestia.
Or perhaps Twilight’s brain was just rationalizing her slothfulness. Even sharp minds are dulled through lengthy grind, and this Engineer’s grinding was endless indeed. Hour upon hour spent on timetables, fare mechanisms, and transport systems; diversion after diversion on Equestria’s geology, Diamond Dog politics, national park finances... it had gotten to the point where the Engineer could’ve asked the purple pony to choose between building the line beside a volcano or over an active fault, and Twilight would have simply tossed a coin and have done with it.
“...and that concludes my presentation, Your Highnesses.” The accursed Engineer finally switched off his blasted projector. “Now I have tried to cover all aspects of the Project as thoroughly as possible, but I’m sure that Your Highnesses will still have questions you would like to ask. I’ll answer them as best as I can.”
Count me out, Twilight thought sarcastically, and not just because she literally could not recall a single word that the Engineer had uttered for the past hour. As is the case for all living things, a craving only gets more intense the closer it is to being satisfied, and at that moment the purple alicorn craved a nice bowl of hay salad beside a mug of cocoa… No, the Princess will just have to save me on this one.
Twilight looked expectantly at her mentor. Princess Celestia’s eyes were serenely closed, light enough to indicate that she was not under stress; she neither smiled nor frowned. She was contemplating: going over the mountain of information that the Engineer had so disrespectfully dumped upon her, drawing up her list of ten no-doubt piercing questions, preparing to turn even this insufferable horse into a stuttering ball of nerves.
“I- “
At that moment, Twilight’s stomach decided to signal its impatience with a loud, audible rumble. Faster than the blood shooting towards the purple pony’s cheeks, Celestia’s eyes flew open: her pupils were calm yet slightly-unfocused, the sort of look one would expect from a monk whose meditations one had interrupted. The white alicorn was good at those looks – even though her eyes hadn’t yet focused on anything in particular, Twilight knew her mentor was thinking about her.
Princess Celestia rose from her chair. “I thank you, Dr. Caboose, for your time – should we have any questions, we shall let you know.” She shook the Engineer’s hoof (oh, what a shellacking he just avoided!), then guided him to the other end of the hall and sent him on his way. The ornate doors closed with a metallic clang.
The heat on Twilight Sparkle’s face only grew stronger as she heard her mentor’s hoofsteps proceeding ever closer. She knew her teacher well enough to know that she wasn’t even going to be slightly angry about the noise. But even as the only sound Celestia was making was her hooves clip-clopping across the marbled floor, Twilight’s shame at her own lack of decorum had risen to such an extent that she at the very least had to slide off her seat and face her mentor, preparations for curtseying or even kowtowing at the ready depending on the level of royal displeasure.
She needn’t have bothered. As soon as the Twilight caught the first glimpse of the Princess anxiety and shame fled her; she felt the weights lifting off her back. Celestia was smiling: not simply a faint smile that indicates a patronizing acceptance of flaws, but a full-on glow, the warm beam of a mother to foal, a grin that not only refused to chastise Twilight for interrupting her questions but in fact thanked her for taking that onerous burden away from her. Had Twilight been a bit less shameless, she would have rushed over and wrapped her forelegs around the Princess herself.
“My faithful student,” the Princess cooed as she gave a few gentle strokes of Twilight’s mane, years and years of practice ensuring that her caresses were the best caresses as far as the purple pony was concerned. “Poor thing… ” A simple pop of her horn, and the formerly-bare hall turned into a homely kitchen – not the Castle kitchens, mind, with their vaulting beams and stern paintings – no, just an average kitchen of average proportions; formica counters, wooden cabinets and a haphazard collection of pans hanging against a lemon-chiffon wall.
Despite never having seen this particular kitchen before, Twilight was familiar enough with the standard layout that she instinctively shuffled left and fell into a chair, a small wooden table spreading out before her and another chair beyond that. She was so familiar with the layout, in fact, that she could turn towards the wall and there it was, a corkboard with a cutesy free calendar and some pinned-on post-its – except, of course, these notes were all reminders for things like “High Table with the Griffon King, 11/02” and “Agri policy: remember to ask about wheat subsidy reductions!”
“So what do you want, Twilight?” Princess Celestia was hunched over the kitchen counter, her form silhouetted by the dusk now settling over the view of Canterlot. She had tied back her wavy mane into a ponytail, with a white apron with a flower embroidered on it draped across her front. In that moment she looked more like Twilight’s own mother than the reigning Princess of Equestria.
The purple alicorn wasn’t a stranger to her mentor cooking: every now and then when nothing particular was happening, the Princess liked to indulge in a bit of baking and the occasional exotic recipe from Castle cookbooks. But in previous times Twilight could at least view herself as a partner, a helper to the Princess, both searching for a substitute to ‘Essence of Changeling’. But this time was different: the Princess was clearly serving Twilight. It wasn’t scary and the purple pony wasn’t horrified or particularly moved by the scene; it was just an indication that their relationship had gone up by another however-imperceptible notch, and the thought of that sent warm feelings down her spine.
Celestia turned her head around and Twilight realized that she hadn’t answered yet. “Oh! Um… just a hay salad, please. And a mug of warm cocoa.”
With the smallest of smiles the Princess turned and began her culinary work. A salad bowl levitated to her left; she began to shred the leaves and hay neatly laid on the cutting-board. At the same time she began humming a tune, that melody which all housewives seemed to know. The cool evening air, that well-hummed song, the chop-chop-chop of diced leaves… Twilight closed her eyes, soaking in the domestic bliss.
“Would you like eggs with this?” Princess Celestia asked, facing Twilight once again, two eggs levitated next to her head. Twilight peered past her and at the egg-blue bowl, in which contained all sorts of vegetable goodness.
“Yes, please- ” Twilight said before quickly doubling back on her words, “-but not boiled. Scrambled, please.”
The Princess nodded and took one of the suspended eggs in her hoof, gently bringing it against the kitchen wall. With a light tap – crack – she dented the brown shell, spider-like lines racing from the cratered wound. Then a creak, and Celestia’s two hooves parted the hemispheres as if they were hinged, the translucent whites flowing down into the mixing bowl, a muted plop as the yolk fell into the mixture.
What a strange idea the egg is! Twilight thought to herself as the Princess dispatched the second egg with similar ease and began whisking the yolks with a teaspoon. For a container designed to house life itself, it certainly doesn’t seem very sturdy.
Tak-tak-tak went the gas cooker – fwoomph, and the stove was alight. The Princess reached for the pan, butter-oil sizzling as the instrument was brought up to a cooking temperature. The yellow mixture was then poured in, the egg-remnants crackling and popping.
Celestia swirled the pan around and prodded the congealing mix with a wooden spoon. She was less distracted now. “So what did you think of the Engineer’s presentation, my faithful student?”
Twilight was suddenly brought back to earth. “Oh! Um – it was very informative, definitely. I liked the part where he mentioned that Fillydelphia considered burning their entire city down to get rid of the Parasprites.”
The white alicorn didn’t react. “I thought you looked rather bored for the latter half of it,” she commented.
Darn it! “Well… um…” Twilight stammered, a few deceptive scenarios flashing before her eyes.
The Princess chuckled. “Oh, it’s quite all right to feel that way, Twilight. Stars know, I was bored stiff by the end as well.”
The eggs were now cooked. Celestia pushed them off the pan and onto Twilight’s bowl, white wispy smoke contrasting with the darkening sky. “I suppose you could treat that as a lesson – even when every inch of your mind wants to be somewhere else, we still have to pay our guests some level of respect.”
Two warm bowls levitated over to the wooden table, Celestia sitting opposite her student. “It was a bit unfortunate, however, that Dr. Caboose ignored my request for a concise presentation,” she said as Twilight began spooning out her egg-salad mix. “For that last part was really what I asked you to come here for. May I have some coffee, please?”
Twilight received the two mugs levitating over to her and placed them on the drinks machine behind. “You mean the reasons why the Rail would benefit Ponyville?” she asked, recalling the Princess’ interjection. “But- “
“Yes, Twilight,” the Princess said, her motherly tone overlaying Twilight’s voice. “And I know what you’re thinking – you think the reasons are obvious – but all the same, I want you to hear them yourself.” The white alicorn nodded appreciatively as Twilight brought over her cappuccino. “You know that the Ponyville Phase of the Project will be initiating in a few weeks.”
“Yes – Mayor Mare brought me up-to-speed with the basics of the Project.” Twilight watered her mouth with a nice gulp of cocoa. “Land acquisition – terrain formation – superstructure construction – it all seems to be administrative procedure from here on out.”
Twilight had hoped that her enumeration of the Project’s phases would demonstrate her familiarity with the undertaking and re-instill her mentor’s confidence in her. Instead, she got a worried frown in return.
“This project is very important for Equestria,” Princess Celestia gently reminded her student. “When it’s complete, we’ll have linked all the regions of the nation together into one single high-speed network. And each station on that network will serve as an economic hub for its surrounding region. This isn’t just about a few trains, Twilight – it’s a national strategy. And I want Ponyville to be an integral part of it.”
This is serious business, Twilight realized, though for what reason she was still unsure. “Do you think the Ponyville Phase will run into trouble?”
Celestia took her time to respond, turning her gaze towards the fading scenery as she took a deep sip of coffee. “Have your friends said anything about this at all, Twilight?”
“Not… really,” Twilight replied, perplexed by this turn in conversation. Does she expect us to talk about this grown-up stuff? “I mean, Applejack’s brought it up once or twice, and you can hear that she doesn’t like it, but nopony else has said much– w-we don’t talk as much as some ponies might think,” the purple pony clarified hastily. “Usually when we meet, it’s either because we have to fight monsters, or it’s a pet-day, or a birthday… I mean, we all have work to do, and it’s not like we’re any less friends because we don’t gossip… ”
“No, no, I understand; I totally understand,” Princess Celestia quickly nodded, eager to dispel any notion that her student was somehow underperforming. “You’re the perfect student, Twilight, and I couldn’t have wished for anypony better. It’s just-”
The white alicorn paused and thought for moment, trying to find a way to re-phrase herself. “Not everypony in Ponyville is happy with the Project, my faithful student,” she finally revealed. “I just don’t want you to be surprised by something that happens out of the blue. It’s one of the things you’ll pick up as you get more familiar with the position – you can’t just look at things from your perspective; you have to know what other ponies think as well. Sometimes, their opinions will even change depending on who they’re talking to.”
“…depending on who they’re talking to,” Twilight murmured, making a mental note of this doubtless-critical advice. She had a vague idea why her mentor specifically mentioned that. “Okay – I understand. I’ll try and figure out why ponies are opposed to the Rail, Princess Celestia, and I’ll make them see the light.”
The bowls and mugs were now empty. “I have every confidence you’ll step up to the challenge, dear,” Princess Celestia beamed, leaning over and giving a friendly pat on Twilight’s mane. “It’s not an easy task, and I won’t think any less of you if you miss the mark.
“But for now-“ The white alicorn got up, observing Luna’s stars rise from on the horizon. “It’ll be quite past bedtime when you return to Ponyville – you need all the energy you can get, Twilight. Let’s walk together to the castle entrance.”
Twilight Sparkle smiled warmly as her mentor’s foreleg curled gently around her shoulder. “Thank you, Princess.”