Lord Fancy Pants looked back on his mentor and friend, former Lord Silver Tongue, with appreciation, fondness, and a generous amount of fond exasperation. The former Unicorn Noble Councilor had been an odd duck for a politician. Living up to his name, Silver Tongue could sweet-talk any snobbish noble’s delicate egos into compliance with his whim (a principle skill that he had passed onto his young prodigy while he groomed him to take his place in the Noble Unicorn Court); at the end of the court session, he would then travel to his estate, bring out large silver plaques with the other Lords’ and Ladies’ visages on them, and blast them into pieces with magic, then collect the pieces and have them smelted down to make new copies.
“Fancy, when your time comes, you’re going to need a source of stress relief to get away from those pedigree nitwits,” Silver Tongue had advised Fancy Pants one evening when he had invited him over to look over trade laws. “No matter how you may praise them or whatever they’ve done, the fact of the matter is that there will always be someone out there who is a demonstrable idiot, and you’ll need something to stave off the urge of blasting their faces in on any given day.” How Silver Tongue would’ve rued the day that the entire rest of the Council consisted of said idiots when they passed the Internment Act.
Fancy Pants sank further into the armchair of his office at the Council Bureau, rubbing his temples with his hooves to stave off the massive headache. Even as head of the Unicorn Noble Council, he was powerless to the overwhelming majority of other Canterlot unicorns who had not only proposed, but passed the Internment Act to seal away any griffons in Equestria, away from the public eye. Fancy Pants could see precisely what it was; a gesture of supposed good will and protection for their citizens was Councilor Blueblood’s way of staying within Princess Celestia’s good graces and line his pockets. The other unicorn nobility (aside from himself and Lady Maple Leaf, thank the stars) had nodded eagerly at such phrases as “removed for the protection of the species”, “seizure of property”, and “liquidation for administrative costs.” Administrative costs, his flank! It was a clear move by the unicorn nobility to solidify their own power base in Canterlot and Equestria by stripping the citizenship from a different race. As much as Fancy hated to admit it, it was a clever way to push a growing unicorn-superiority agenda that he did not support.
“Mr. Pants, a Miss Rarity Belle is waiting in the front office for you,” the nasally voice of his secretary crackled over his magical intercom. Fancy Pants sat up a little straighter at that. Rarity, his good friend and one of Ponyville’s Element Bearers? From what he had last heard, the designer was still bound to the small town that he had only visited once in his youth. What could she possibly be in Canterlot for- oh. With trepidation, Fancy Pants reached over to his on-desk intercom port and pressed the button before responding, “Please send her in, Corn Maze.”
Nary a second later, the door to his office burst open with enough force to tilt the photographs nearest it, and a rather miffed yet beautiful white unicorn stamped into the room, glaring at him from under her bejeweled hat. “Fancy Pants, forgive my intrusion,” Rarity ground out with the most angry form of politeness that he had heard from anyone, much less a self-declared noble. Fancy, always the calm and considerate politician, stood up from his chair.
“Miss Rarity, it’s no trouble at all,” he replied smoothly, keeping his years of etiquette training in mind. When confronted with an angry woman, try to remain calm yourself while calming her down as best as possible. Listening is important. “My door is always open to you. Please, would you like to sit down? Can I offer you a drink?”
He offered a chair to her while trying to wrap his magic around a constantly boiling kettle in the corner, but she passed up his offer and shoved a magically levitated copy of the Canterlot Times into his face. He didn’t have to focus on the print to know what it was, and his horn ceased its golden glow.
“How could the Noble Unicorn Council pass the Internment Act?!” she demanded harshly, letting the paper fall from her grip. “We’re a nation at war, but that DOES NOT mean that we should be a divided nation! It goes against the very tenets of Harmony that we’ve tried to emulate, doesn’t it?”
“Rarity-“ Fancy tried to interrupt, looking to the open door. He could see the silhouette of a particularly unwelcome visitor that looked about ready to come through the door to the waiting room, but the mare continued on her tirade.
“Instead, politicians have decided that they want to divide our nation further and remove established Equestrian citizens from their homes, then seize their lands and property for ‘administrative costs’?” Rarity spat out, reading directly from the paper where the Act had been published in whole.
“Miss Rarity, I must insist-“ Fancy saw the outside door start to open, and he quickly slammed his office door shut with a burst of magic and quickly erected a soundproof barrier around his room. The slam of the door had startled Rarity into silence while the soundproof spell applied a buzz akin to soft radio static that was felt more than heard by the two unicorns. “I need to make sure that we aren’t overheard,” the older unicorn sighed, moving behind his desk again.
Rarity directed a suspicious look in his direction. “Why?”
“There are unforgiving ears who might accuse you of treason. I understand that you have every reason to be angry about the Internment Act, Rarity, but I wish you would direct that anger at someone else except for me,” Fancy Pants replied wearily, but not in a begging tone.
Politicians (those that were adept, anyways) didn’t beg. “The papers would not have published this, but I did not support the Act by any means, and neither did Lady Maple Leaf.”
“You and Lady Leaf?” The alabaster unicorn pondered his statement for a moment, tapping her chin with a carefully manicured hoof. “That’s all?”
“There was…overwhelming support among the other nobles,” Fancy admitted sadly, stroking his moustache. “Believe me, if there was something that I could’ve done to block the action altogether, I would’ve. It was an emergency action, though, so there was no before-hand lobbying or any sort of notice.”
“There are some dissenters in other parts of Equestria, Fancy Pants,” Rarity mused solemnly, tapping her chin in thought. “The fact that they are a minority, however, is what’s troublesome.”
“A minority by just a hair, my dear,” Fancy offered in comfort, taking her hoof in his as a gesture of friendship. “That there are those who find this morally deplorable is a sign that there are some good ponies out there-“
“Sir, Prince Blueblood wishes to speak with you immediately,” Corn Maze’s voice crackled through the intercom again, interrupting the mood between the two friends and causing them both to grumble simultaneously.
“Some good ponies, but not that one. I’ll take my leave, Fancy,” Rarity said finally with a small, apologetic smile. “I apologize for coming in here with such an unseemly temper.”
“Always a pleasure to talk, Rarity,” Fancy Pants replied calmly and giving her a friendly nudge with his shoulder. He moved back to his seat and gave a quiet sigh of relief at the finding of a non-Council kindred spirit. It might just be the only good point to his already terrible day, and the smug look on Prince Blueblood’s visage as he strutted into the office was not helping.
Were he a different sort of pony, Fancy might have forgone the silver and just melted Blueblood’s head here and now. Slowly and painfully. Start with the eyeballs or the frontal lobe? Hadn’t there been some sort of accident somewhere that led to the miraculous discovery that someone could live without a good portion of the frontal lobe?
“Afternoon, Fancy!” Blueblood belted out in what might’ve been a friendly sort of voice to anybody else; to Fancy Pants, it was anything but, with his blatant lack of title or respect.
“Lovely day today, isn’t it?”
“Depends on your definition, Councilor Blue Blood,” Fancy Pants replied with forced enthusiasm. All of the Unicorn Councilors had their various vices that they were loath to admit but could be easily found out if one paid attention (if one were to look at Fancy Pants’ behavior intimately, they’d discover his rather interesting love for the scent of jasmine). Blueblood’s vice was his very attitude. Whenever he entered a room, every single pony tried to find any excuse to get away from his arrogant, annoying nature. “What can I do for you?”
“Oh, simply to discuss the cut of the griffon property liquidation is afforded to you.”
Blueblood lounged in the chair that Fancy had offered to Rarity without an invitation like the office was his home (he probably treated it with just as much respect. Fancy discreetly wrote a note to sanitize the chair and donate it before buying a new one). “I want to make sure that every Councilor was being offered as even a cut as possible.”
“Of course.” Internally, Fancy gave a vindictive grin. Blueblood might just get an awful surprise with the wealth that he anticipated receiving. He might not support the Internment Act, but he could at least soften the blow as much as possible against the targeted griffons.
“Now, the liquidation of the griffon assets in Canterlot seems to be quite profitable,” Blueblood drawled, helping himself to a floating decanter of fine whiskey from the liquor cabinet. “The total acquirement from dissolved individual savings accounts in the banks has yielded over fourteen million bits. The liquidated lands and seized properties is another sixteen million, so we have a total of over thirty million bits. If we divide it between the other fifteen court members, it’s only a 2 million bit increase-“
“Not that it matters, since it will be going towards such a good cause,” Fancy answered with a soft smile, putting on his monocle and writing down some of the numbers while working with his calculations.
“Yes, indeed,” Blueblood chuckled. “Liquidating the rest of the property when the rest of the griffons are interred successfully will yield a larger sum for us-“
“You mean for the army and the citizens, correct?”
Blueblood froze and stared. “What?”
The idiot really hadn’t notice the change, then, which was just fine as it were. “You didn’t see the memo? I could’ve sworn I sent one out.” Fancy stood up and began pacing.
“Councilor Maple Leaf went to Jet Set and enacted the Power Check clause from the bylaws, so we added the Restoration of Equestria’s Citizens Clause. All the liquidated funds are to be divided; sixty-five percent are to be given to the Equestrian Military Forces, and thirty percent will be to ensure the well-being of our citizens in the internment camp for the remainder of their stay. Food costs, basic necessities…I think you’ll find that the funds will be put to better use in that manner.” He continued to grin at Blueblood’s dumbstruck face. “The other five percent will be to give them aid when they reintegrate into society. “
“Fancy Pants, you can’t be serious!” Blueblood whined piteously, sliding half out of his chair in his foppish despair. “We’ve worked hard to get back those bits from the peasantry! And you’re just giving it BACK?”
“Peasantry or no, Councilor Blueblood, we swore an oath to serve all of Equestria’s citizens, not just unicorns and certainly not just ourselves,” Fancy pointed out calmly. “Despite their current status, Equestria’s griffons are still citizens under the Diarchal Crown and are under the protection of Princesses Celestia and Luna. We cannot abandon them in their time of need.”
“But but but but…” the pure-white unicorn prince stammered abruptly, his throat bobbing as he gulped. “They’re the enemy!” he shrilled finally, once he’d come up with a mildly intelligible thought. “We’re fighting against their home country, and they killed our citizens!”
“Griffonia citizens killed those villagers. Our interred griffons have not.”
There was a grinding of teeth from Blueblood, and he stood up straight with angry desperation in his eyes. “We won’t give one gold flake to those lousy scavengers! I refuse! I’ll-“
He pointed a shaky hoof at Fancy Pants. “I’ll have you arrested for obstruction of justice! You’ll be arrested and your wife tossed out onto the street like the common gutter tramp that she-”
Now, Fancy Pants held a good few ponies in high regard. First and foremost to him was his beloved wife, Fleur de Lis. He constantly announced to the world, literally and metaphorically, that he would travel to beyond the moon and back to ensure his wife’s happiness (which had led to a rather embarrassing bar fight in Fillydelphia once upon a time, involving a toilet plunger, two bottles of bourbon, and a cuteceñera dress). If Blueblood was going so low as to threaten Fancy’s beloved wife, then he would go even lower to stop him. By Tartarus, he would aim for the hateful stallion’s pitiful reproductive organs if he had to.
“Blueblood,” Fancy Pants snapped, all jovial, polite pretense foregone, monocle drifting back into his waistcoat pocket. “Must I accuse you of treason for putting your own self interests ahead of the state of Equestria?”
If it had been possible to tell, Fancy would have assumed that all the blood had drained from Blueblood’s face at the threat. “You know your duty as a member of the Court, those tenets that you swore to uphold when you were inaugurated. If you go back on your oaths now, I will publicly denounce you to the newspapers from here to Manehatten,” the older unicorn noble growled threateningly. “Even if you are proved innocent before a war tribunal consisting of your peers, you will never hold office again. You will always be seen as a selfish coward and a traitor to your nation, and nobody will acknowledge you as an authority figure. Everyone will call you a disgusting, sniveling worm who would bring down the Princesses and Equestria solely for putting a few extra bits into your pockets.”
Blueblood was giving off little gasps and whimpers of terror, sweat profusely dripping from his brow and eyes wide and staring. Fancy’s hoof snagged into Blueblood’s pressed collar and dragged his face close, so close that their horns clacked together, and the prince whined at the discomfort. “You will stay in line, and send a notice to the Times by tonight, announcing the Restoration Act and your full support. If anyone asks, this conversation did not happen. Do I make myself clear?” he hissed viciously at the spoiled, terrified prince. Fancy bared his teeth when all he got in response was a quivering of lips, so he tightened his grip on the prince’s collar until he finally got a wheezing yet committed gasp of affirmation, and let the other unicorn drop to the floor.
The door to the Bureau office opened for the third time in fifteen minutes, and a disheveled, off-yellow unicorn mare with a bright orange mane stood in the doorway. Ignoring Blueblood, she waved a piece of parchment in her yellow-tinted magical grip. “Sir, urgent notice from your estate!”
Fancy Pants hurried out from behind his desk, stepping over Blueblood’s sprawled limbs on the floor. “You may see yourself out, Prince Blueblood,” he said calmly, as if nothing important had transpired between them. He took the parchment with his magic and read through the few hastily scrawled letters with frozen dread. “Corn Maze, you…are dismissed for the rest of…the day,” he whispered hoarsely and haltingly, letting the letter flutter to the floor as he raced out of the office like Tartarus was at his rear hooves.
The secretary took a small glance down at the letter on the floor and shot a glare at the melodramatic Blueblood still cowering on the floor. “Disgusting coward,” she whispered silently to herself, then held the letter in the air and let a magical fire start consuming it from a corner. Fire licked the messy ink and tear splotches on the parchment as Fancy Pants’ letter burned.
Fancy, come home.
The Solar Guard are trying to take the Twins.
Three years ago, the wedding of Fleur de Lis and Fancy Pants was the biggest event in Canterlot since the wedding of Princess Mi Amore Cadenza and Captain Shining Armor. The ceremony had been relatively calm and private, the reception less so, and the two newly-weds had settled into their bedroom that evening, tired and their high spirits slightly marred by a doctor’s note delivered just before the nuptials; by some cruel turn of fate, no matter what treatments they pursued, neither Fleur nor Fancy would be able to produce foals of their own. Dear Fleur had been able to keep her emotions together for the wedding with only a few tears slipping out (she hastily credited them as tears of joy), but what had been best for both of them to escape from the suffocating social scene of Canterlot to celebrate their union properly, without the speculation by the social elite about a foal that would never come.
So, before there came to be so much animosity between Griffonia and Equestria, Fancy Pants and Fleur escaped to the griffon’s country as a honeymoon trip. They loved the countryside, the griffons were nice, and it was interesting to see how the griffons lived their lives in the capital city of Griffonstone. On one fine day, the couple had gone out for a hike with only a saddlebag apiece of food and enthusiasm to forget what scrutiny would meet them back in Canterlot. They came back later that evening with completely empty saddlebags, renewed lust for life, and two downy, slightly dirty, orphan griffon chicks clinging to their backs while they snacked on some dried apple slices. Nobody came to claim the chicks as their own, and the proper Griffon authorities allowed a fostering period for the pony nobles with proper consultation with the Griffonian Embassy in Canterlot. Both Fancy and Fleur loved the chicks as they would any foals, and they chose traditional griffon names for the brother and sister: Greta and Hans. When asked about if a foal would be expected in the Pants/de Lis estate sometime in the near future, the joyful parents laughed quietly and said, “Oh, we only have enough energy for our chicks, but we wouldn’t give them up for anything in the world!”
The day of the griffon attacks on the border of Equestria had been the day that Fancy Pants had prepared to send the finalized adoption papers to the Griffonian Embassy. Since then, Equestria had gone to war, the Embassy had been shuttered and ransacked, and Fancy Pants was racing to his estate at a full gallop, urgently pushing his way through crowds of ponies. Cries of panic and anger came from the other side of the boulevard, where Solar Guard ponies ushered harried griffon citizens along in a tight pack. As much as Fancy wished he could help them, the most important thing for him right now was to get home to his chicks. Even when he missed a step and slipped into a brackish black puddle, he just clambered out of the sticky liquid and galloped through the gates of the extensive estate.
“Why…” he puffed in between gallops, “didn’t I…learn teleportation…when Princess…Twilight…offered?” Finally, though, he was at the polished steps and hung his neck down, trying to regain his breath. He froze, however, when three different voices screamed in terror from inside the foyer, and Fancy was inside so fast that it would’ve appeared to passerby that he had spontaneously developed the ability to teleport.
The eyes of about a dozen maids and stallion-servants peered out from cracks in heavy oak doors at the battlefield that was the main foyer. Fleur was crouched at the base of their grand marble staircase, squarely in front of the twins in a defensive manner. Hans and Greta clutched at her hind legs with their tiny talons, shrunk down as small as possible in the vain hopes that they wouldn’t be seen by the two burly guard ponies squaring off against his wife. “Ma’am, just give up the chicks and-“
“No!” Fleur screamed, grabbing a priceless vase from a corner table and hurling it at the speaker’s head. A defensive blast from the guard shattered the pottery into porcelain powder, but Fleur kept hurling objects at them, backing up protectively to get away from the threat. “YOU! LEAVE! MY! BABIES! ALONE!”
“Fleur!” Fancy Pants yelled, trotting past the guards to his wife’s side, pressing against her in reassurance. “Fleur, my dear, it’ll be all right.”
“Ma’am, we have the authority to write you up for assaulting an officer-“
“Gentlecolts, I do apologize for this unfortunate occurrence,” Fancy cut across the Guard smoothly and calmly, hiding his own desperate desire to calm the situation and protect his children. “Please, my wife and I are merely distressed at the immediacy in which you’ve come to take our children.”
The other Guard who had remained silent, a muscular specimen by the name of Golden Shaft, stepped forward at last to speak. “We were ordered by Princess Celestia to begin rounding up griffon citizens immediately, Lord Fancy Pants. She believed that it was best not to delay.”
“Wise of her to do so.” Fancy Pants hesitated from spitting out the complimentary words about their war-hungry princess, but at least Fleur seemed to realize that he was hiding his distaste. “Now, may we at least have some time to gather our children’s belongings? Perhaps you can go gather other griffons and come back?” he asked in his most appealing voice.
Oh, he should’ve known that idea would’ve had a cake slice’s chance on Celestia’s plate of being accepted by the Solar Guard. “Lord Fancy Pants, these children are not registered as Equestrian citizens, and we cannot leave them unsupervised-“
“Please!” Fleur begged, tears leaking down her face in her dismay. “We were just submitting the adoption forms to the Embassy when the war started! Nobody else would take the papers!” Hans and Greta gave cries of distress as she collapsed onto the floor, sobbing and pleading with the guard-ponies, but they stayed huddled close to their adoptive mother and father. “Please! The children did nothing wrong!” She turned watery eyes to her husband when the guard didn’t reply. “Dear, do something!” Fleur wailed, and Fancy’s heart went out to his beloved wife and their children, but what could he do? If he were to intervene, they would never get far if they tried to escape, and their arrest could lead to the permanent separation of the griffons from their adoptive parents.
The guards, however, remained unmoved by the extreme emotions. “Failure to surrender to the Crown will result in your arrest and execution-“
“Enough.” A bone-chilling, hoarse voice called from the open doorways, and the temperature in the room seemed to have dropped several degrees. Two different guard-ponies, darker colored than their Solar companions and garbed in the dark colors of the Night Guard, strode into the building purposefully. Their hooves seemed to make almost no noise against the marble tiles. The speaker drew up level to the Solar Guard and flared his nocturne wings.
“Lieutenant Shaft, you’ve been ordered to the transports. The Lunar Guard will resume supervision of the griffons.”
“Captain Breeze!” Both Solar Guards saluted the higher-ranked guard without question, but Golden Shaft looked about ready to try and argue. Star Breeze gave a face of ‘if you try anything, there won’t be enough of you to be considered a stain on the floor’, and the Solar Guard retreated without another word. Star Breeze and his companion approached the lone family with a much less threatening air.
“I apologize for the behavior of the Solar Guard, m’lord,” Captain Breeze mumbled softly, as was the way of the Night Guard. “Princess Luna has just assigned us with the transport and guardianship of Equestria’s griffons.”
There might be some hope yet for Fancy and Fleur. “Please…is there any way for Princess Luna to be merciful and leave our children with us?” he asked quietly.
Hans gave a small, shy grumble and hugged Fancy Pants’ foreleg anxiously, staring up with wide eyes at the nocturnal pony speaking to his adoptive father. Sadly, Captain Breeze shook his head.
“Princess Luna, ever merciful and kind, loves all of Equestria’s inhabitants, from the very young to the very old. It was a blessing for her to assume responsibility of the griffons’ imprisonment from the Sun Princess at all.” The nocturne looked down at the tawny chick clinging to Fancy with a soft frown on his face. “I am sorry.”
Greta and Hans sniffled softly and stared at their parents with wide eyes. “Momma?”
Greta rasped softly, her tiny talons splayed across Fleur’s slender foreleg. “Do we have to leave?” The pale pink unicorn pulled the chick into a hug and tearfully nuzzled her silvery crest.
Fancy Pants hugged Hans closely to him, and his son hung onto his neck with talons in his carefully groomed blue mane, but Fancy never cared about how roughed up he became when his family was involved. The household staff began creeping out of their hiding rooms, and two of them had the foresight to bring down small bags of belongings for the twins.
Captain Breeze slowly moved forward and gently shepherded Hans into his hooves and turned slowly. Fancy felt the nocturne’s tail gently press against his coat pocket, in a manner very familiar to corrupt politicians. No bits were slid into his pocket, though, just the soft rustle of parchment against fabric. Like a corrupt politician that he was not, however, he made no acknowledgment of his reception of the Captain’s paper in front of so many ponies. Instead, the unicorn knelt down beside his wife to give his daughter a gentle kiss on the cheek before she was ushered away by the other Night Guard.
“My babies, I love you!” Fleur cried after them plaintively, reaching a shaking hoof out towards the doors that Hans and Greta were being pushed towards. Fancy stayed by his wife, watching his family being pulled apart by forces far beyond his own considerable control.
“We love you so much, chicklets!” he called towards his distressed children. “We will see each other again!”
“Momma! Papa!” Hans and Greta shreed, looking around the legs of their guards. “We love you-“
The impressive double doors were shut with a bang, drowning out their words. The staff hurried away while Fancy Pants gently held his grieving wife in his forelegs, still sitting on the floor and gently rocking her slowly.
“How could they?” Fleur whispered hoarsely. “How…how could th-th-they?”
“I know, my dear,” her husband murmured into his wife’s ear, giving her a kiss on her horn. “I know…”
“Princess…Princess Celestia shouldn’t be able to do this,” she whimpered back. “Not in a just Equestria.”
As Fancy continued to rub her back and let his own tears fall, he had to wonder if wartime Equestria could be a just Equestria, and doubted.