//------------------------------//
// 2 The Nose of a Camel 
// Story: The Twilight Enigma 
// by iisaw 
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Chapter Two
The Nose of a Camel

Wherein Twilight learns, to her dismay,
the limits to which logic will carry unpopular arguments,
and makes plans to further educate herself.

September 13th - 22nd, 1011
Canterlot, Equestria




"Pirate" is such an ugly word. It is almost always applied as a pejorative, and it doesn't take into account any subtle gradations of circumstance. One pony's "archaeologist" is another's "treasure hunter," without necessarily devolving into the classification of "grave-robber." With "pirate" it's all or nothing.

Well, I suppose there's "privateer," but that term is used only in time of war and means nothing except to the nation that issued the Letter of Marque. Seeing as how I would have to be the one to write my own permission slip, nobody would take such a document seriously. In any case, I couldn't let even a hint slip out that the Free Company of Friends was connected in any way to an Equestrian princess, so I had to accept the label of "pirate." But I didn't have to like it.

As far as Princess Celestia was concerned, my foreign travels were for purposes of cultural and magical study, which was perfectly true in a way. The idea that quite a lot of people wouldn't want me to study some of their most powerful and secret spells and artifacts, or that I wouldn't take "no" for an answer, hadn't occurred to her. Or, if it had, she was too polite to mention it.

Besides, some of the "objects of interest" I collected were fairly dangerous and I was doing the world a service by removing them from where an overly ambitious or unstable person could misuse them. No, really. Think of the Orb of Annihilation in the claws of the Mad King of the Forgotten Lands, and tell me any sane pony wouldn't rather have it securely locked away in one of my magical laboratories, even if it wasn't technically my property.

The thing is, many governments don't behave in a strictly sane manner. Once a government gets ancient enough, its layers of nonsensical laws and bureaucracy get so tangled that a pony could get sentenced to beheading for stepping on the shadow of a king, or gifted with a fortune for petting the correct type of cat on the spring equinox.[1]
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[1] [And if you think I'm exaggerating, get a copy of volume XXVII of The Holy Codex of Quaggastan and look in the index for "cats, acceptable colors, markings, and treatment of."
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I  never imagined I might become the sort of pony that would dare to even bend the rules, let alone break them. But I lost my unquestioning respect for the exact letter of the law shortly after I took the time to closely observe the Equestrian Parliament engaged in creating new legislation. I discovered that the process was more about political favor-trading than doing good for the common ponies.

I read through several of the most respected legal compendiums and discovered that the body of Equestrian law, on the whole, was a trainwreck. If Princess Celestia didn't have final legal authority, and therefore the ability to untangle all the contradictory legislation, the system would have collapsed centuries ago.

My disillusionment was more traumatic than I have the time or inclination to convey, so suffice it to say that I tried to resolve my inner conflict by synthesizing a new way to enact and reform legislation based on the philosophy of doing the most good for the most ponies. I would be perfectly willing to follow rules to the letter if they were good rules.

I published A Modest Proposal for a New and Scientific System of Laws and Judicial Proceedings and distributed it as widely as I could. It was completely disdained by the entire political establishment. One particularly critical MP very publicly suggested that I would better occupy my time cutting ribbons at school and library openings, and that I should leave politics to the politicians. I refrained from any direct reply, though I did send a copy of his financial records to the High Court and the Canterlot Times with notes pointing out the one hundred and seventeen ethical and legal violations that any competent forensic accountant should have noticed years before.

Maybe that was petty of me, but he ended up getting off with a fairly light sentence.

The book was only the first part of a plan to create a more perfect system of governance that I strongly felt was not only possible, but morally necessary. Yes, I was quite young at the time, and more naïve than my years. My treatise sank like a stone, leaving behind only ripples of derisive laughter. I was both surprised and depressed by the whole affair.

One morning shortly afterward, I sat with Luna on the balcony of the Tower of the Moon, sipping coffee and feeling sorry for myself.

"Maybe all of my ideas weren't perfect, but there were some good, solid reforms in there! Everypony dismissed the whole thing without offering any cogent counter-arguments at all!" I bit at my croissant like it had personally offended me.

"Perhaps," Luna said softly, "that is because your approach was very—ah—direct."

"You mean blunt," I said.

Luna carefully studied the swirl of foam in her cup and said nothing.

"Why should I have to pussy-foot around when I am making concrete recommendations? Not using clear and direct language just leaves room for misinterpretation!"

"Perhaps, it was not your remedies that were hard to swallow," Luna murmured, "but rather, your observations." She looked up at me out of the corner of her eye. "Blunt as they were, your criticisms may have cut some ponies deeply."

I scowled. "I tried to keep it impersonal, but these were things that needed to be said! Playing nicey-nice won't get anything done!"

Luna set her coffee cup down with a sharp clack and said, "Thou hast the right of it, no doubt. Wilt thou excuse me? 'Tis past time I was a-bed."

Uh-oh. When Luna lapsed into archaic Equuish, it meant her emotions were running high.

"Luna, what's wr—" The flash of a teleport spell left me alone on the balcony.

I replayed the conversation in my head. Was she upset because I had dismissed her opinion, or was it something else? I had no idea, but I knew that I would be greeting her after sunset with a bouquet and an apology. But it would be best if I knew exactly what I was apologizing for. I needed advice.

Luckily, Rarity was in town. Her social calendar was full to overflowing, but she happily added me to the guest list for her "business brunch."

When we met her associates at the restaurant, Rarity placed a hoof against her chest in a demure manner and fluttered her eyelashes, saying to them, "I do hope it won't be inconvenient. The Princess is a very dear friend and we never get as much time together as we'd like."

I smiled mechanically through the meal, and gave vague, polite replies whenever somepony spoke to me. At least the food was good.

"The general consensus seemed to be that my presence was a tolerable annoyance," I said to Rarity afterwards as we walked along Martingale Street toward Parliament Square.

"Oh, please, Twilight! They were thrilled to death to be brunching with a princess, and you know it! What's gotten you into such a sour mood?"

I scuffed the fore edge of a hoof against the curbstone and frowned. "I upset Luna this morning and I don't even know why."

Rarity's expression became an odd combination of concern and avarice. "Tell me all about it, darling!"

I did.

"Well, since you appreciate bluntness, Twilight," she said when I had finished, "allow me to be blunt with you."

Suddenly, "blunt" and "direct" seemed like distant synonyms. I cleared my throat nervously. "Of course."

"You called your dear Luna a parasite! Who wouldn't be upset by that?"

"What are you talking about? I never said anything like that!"

"I didn't read your book, Twilight. But many of my clients did, and they assured me that you were not kind to the 'do-nothing' nobles. The word 'parasite' was mentioned in particular. I can't count the number of times I've had to reassure ponies that your work was academic theory and not meant to be taken seriously."

"But it was serious!" I protested. "I meant it when I wrote that, 'A class held apart from common ponies is justifiable only if it is a symbiotic relationship, rather than a parasitic one,' but I wasn't calling anypony a parasite, and certainly not Luna! She guards everypony's dreams and raises the moon! She battles monsters in the night to keep ponies safe! She's a perfect example of what every noble should be like!"

"Perhaps she knows that intellectually, but does she believe it?" Rarity sighed. "Princess Luna is from a different age, and in her heart she feels naturally superior to the common pony. She has had her problems in the past, even though she now serves her subjects as well as anypony could expect. Your little book probably made her feel guilty for several reasons, and your outburst this morning only twisted the knife."

I groaned and plopped down on the sidewalk. "I'm an idiot."

Rarity sighed and leaned her head against mine. "Twilight, you are the most brilliant pony I have ever known, and if you would just consider how your words will make ponies feel in addition to what they mean, you'd be fine."

"I do know better. I just get carried away sometimes." I looked up at Rarity and gave her as much of a smile as I could muster. "So—will her favorite flowers be enough, or should I bring wine and chocolates, too?"

Rarity started to say something but cut herself short as wicked grin slowly spread across her face. "I know this discreet little shop not far from here. The owner makes the most delightful halters, hobbles, and accessories...."

"I don't think—"

She was definitely enjoying my discomfort. "No, really, darling! It would be like gift-wrapping! Add a snaffle bit, a crop, and a small sign reading, 'I've been a very naughty princess,' and it would be a fabulous way to apologize!"

"Not going to happen!"

"Oh, Twilight! You have no sense of adventure!"        

That made me laugh out loud, and I got back on my hooves. "How many wild escapades have we been on together, Rarity?"

"Yes," she admitted, "there have been so many that I couldn't begin to count them. But if it wasn't trouble that came looking for us, they've mostly been ones that Princess Celestia or the map have sent us on. When have you ever set out into the unknown just for the sheer fun of it?"

"Every time I open a new book," I said, starting back down the street.

Rarity sighed. It was an eloquent sigh.


= = =


I patched things up with Luna, who was well accustomed to me shoving a hoof or two into my mouth from time to time, and life went on as usual, but the conversation with Rarity stuck in my mind. Maybe I did need to broaden my horizons in a very literal sense.

I had hardly put hoof outside of Equestria, and my only direct experience with different cultures was via visitors to Equestria, so I decided that traveling abroad to experience foreign lands and societies for myself would combine fun and a wonderful learning experience. My criminal career, if you can call it that, started out as mere curiosity.

After the failure of my book, I promised myself that my next attempt at reform would not only be more subtle, but it would also be based on much deeper experience and direct knowledge. I was determined to take the best from every race and culture I could learn about and synthesize it all into a blueprint for a utopia.

I quickly discovered that the public respect and celebration I was offered as an Equestrian princess, all the ceremony and protocol, could too easily be turned into a barrier to prevent me from learning what I really wanted to know. So, I decided to take a more clandestine approach to my new studies.

I had gotten very good at disguise spells, thanks to constant practice. My secret affair with Princess Luna had been very beneficial in that regard. Appearing to be a simple non-alicorn was an easy task, and I could cast several disguise spells simultaneously, which meant that my friends could accompany me on my travels whenever they could manage the time away from their increasingly busy lives.

I commissioned an airship from the Canterlot Yards as a replacement for my poor lost Evenstar. Their chief naval architect, Gudgeon, wanted to build a sleek, super-modern craft for me and was initially disappointed when I asked for something very different. In the spirit of keeping my explorations incognito, I asked for a ship that looked like one of the old style cargo vessels that hung beneath its gas envelope, but that lacked the disadvantages of that sort of construction.

Gudgeon's face was vastly entertaining as he tried to process my request, and then began to go over the possibilities of such a strange set of strictures. After a few minutes, I could tell he was lost in thought and had probably forgotten I was even in the room. I left him to his plans.

It was a week later, and I had almost come to believe that Gudgeon had forgotten my request or given it up as impossible, when he sent me a brief note. He was much better at his craft than I had given him credit for. I met him at the Canterlot Yards and got a pleasant surprise. He hadn't merely drawn out a design; he had constructed a rather large model of the proposed ship and hung it under one of the protective shelters in the yards. His pegasus assistant kept a steady breeze flowing over the model as Gudgeon explained its features to me.

"The bundles of cables are stiffened with rods inside to dampen any oscillation between the hull and envelope, d'ya see? And the shape of the struts help keep her tracking well and provide some lift at speed."

"Yes!" I said, catching his enthusiasm. "That's very clever. The hull is in the old style, but there's something—I don't know—sleeker about it?"

"Ya've got a good eye, princess. We tested the shape with wind and smoke and I shifted her planking about until the flow over her hull was smooth as silk. Would ya like to see?"

"Of course!"

Gudgeon lit a small tube of paper on fire and held it in front of the model. The wind from the flapping pegasus pushed the stream of smoke over the hull in a coherent snake-like trail that held its thin shape until it was well behind the ship's stern. "No turbulence to speak of that would drag down her speed. She'll fly true, there's no doubt of that."

"And—if I may comment, Your Highness?" the pegasus creating the breeze spoke up for the first time.

"Please do."

"As a flier, I really like the open deck design. The enclosed gondolas on modern ships feel too confining. Pegasi are happier when they can feel the wind in their feathers." He glanced at my own wings and became a bit flustered. "But of course, you'd know that, Your Highness."

I ignored his embarrassment. "That is an excellent observation, thank you."

He blushed and bobbed his head in acknowledgment.

I turned to Gudgeon and said, "This design is wonderful! Can magic armor and self-repair features be incorporated—discreetly?"

Gudgeon smiled. "Aye, I recall that ya be a bit rough on the ships ya pilot, princess. I've made accommodations for all manner of such things."

It was my turn to blush. "I promise I'll try to take better care of this one."

He gave me a mock-stern glare and said, "See that ya do, Your Exalted Highness."

I chuckled. "Your design is brilliant. Go ahead with construction and don't hesitate to use the best materials and parts for the job, whatever the cost. Call on me if you have any questions."

He nodded. "The spell-work will be tricky and will need to be woven in at just the right moments during her construction. I'll try to give you a good schedule in advance, but these things can't always be predicted with precision, particularly when it involves such a unique design."

"I understand. Believe me, I will put this near the top of my priority list. Could you send me a brief progress note each week, even if you won't be needing my input?"

"It'll be my pleasure, Princess."

"Thank you so much! I may even drop by from time to time, just to see how things are going, if that's alright?"

Gudgeon grinned. "I've got a dozen lazy apprentices, two old dogs, and half-blind tom cat underhoof, so I can't see how adding a princess to the lot will do much harm."


= = =


Surprisingly, Celestia thought that my plan was a very good idea. "Posing as a merchant should give you many valuable experiences. I would recommend actually trying to make a profit by trading. That exercise should teach you some economic lessons as well."

"You're really okay with this?"

"I am." She nodded, then added, "And what if I did have reservations? You are your own pony and should make your own decisions. I am grateful that you asked my opinion on the matter, though. Even if it is several weeks after the keel of your new ship was laid." She was smiling when she said it, so it was only the gentlest of rebukes, but it made me feel just a tad guilty.

"Well, I needed a new ship, anyway," I said.

"What will you name her? Evenstar II, perhaps?"

"No. I thought about it, but it would always make me remember the original, and I'd rather not stir up sad memories."

"I understand. But would you be willing to make a slight connection between the two craft?"

"What sort of connection?"

"Well—" Celestia hesitated, and frowned, considering her next words. We were sitting in the castle's private rose garden that looked out toward the Unicorn Range. She turned so that she was facing away from me when she spoke again. "You know that Luna became a bit disturbed when you were trapped in the Wheel of the World, and some of her actions may have looked odd to some ponies."

I had gotten the story of the civil cold war from several different sources, of course, including those principally involved, but something in Celestia's tone told me that a lot of interesting details had been omitted.

"What is it?" I could feel a nervous flutter begin deep in my chest.

"She saved all of Evenstar that wasn't burned, and brought everything back to Canterlot. It's all in a great vault deep inside the mountain."

"Why didn't she tell me?"

"It isn't just a pile of wreckage. She restored your cabin, and—" Celestia cleared her throat before continuing. "—she slept in there quite a few times. She might be embarrassed to admit that, but I thought you might at least like to salvage the oak paneling."

Despite being a little weird, it was one of the most romantic things I had ever heard. I vowed right then that I'd incorporate my entire old cabin into the new ship, and then I'd find some very special way to show my appreciation to Luna. Maybe I'd take just a little peek into that shop that Rarity had mentioned.


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