//------------------------------// // Mad Dog // Story: Rise of the Fluffy Ponies // by Monsieur Bleu //------------------------------// ~*~ Rise of the Fluffy Ponies Monsieur Bleu Chapter V Mad Dog ~*~ A large banner hung above the stage: two hooves clasping a blood red rose. It was the middle of summer, with sun pounding down; at the lectern, a changeling wiped the sweat off his brow with a handkerchief. He hastily stuffed it back in his suit jacket pocket, cleared his throat, and began. “The conditions facing the working people of this nation are still appalling. So what if the work houses have been boarded, when a decent day’s wages does not lift one above poverty! What platitudes of virtue could possibly account for such inequality? What do nobles do that the commoner cannot?” Ironically, he would soon have an answer. ~*~ In the hearth the fire crackled gently, casting warm, deep shadows against the walls. The air was ripe with wine, radiance, and smoke. Three whiskeys sat upon a coffee table, untouched. “So,” Cuddles huffed, rubbing the bridge of his snout, “you have been seeing each other how long?” “Nearly two decades,” Blueblood said quickly, gently codling Derpy. “And how did you meet?” “My Uncle—” “—Your uncle? Ambeu.” “Yes.” “Let me guess,” Cuddles sighed, “he needed you to rendezvous with her for… what—which of his schemes?” “I was an activist in the Mail Carriers Union,” she spoke up delicately. “Ambeu set up a meeting with us so we could talk about how we could break away some liberals into supporting the new public employee contracts. One thing led to another… I got pregnant—” “—With his heir?” “Well… not legitimate yet, but she will be soon enough,” he injected. “And this delay is because?” “It would be improper of me to sit in the Commons and be wed to a member of the Lords,” she quickly responded. “I see.” “So how, Sir Cuddles, is this any of your concern?” Blueblood asked sharply. “She may be your lover, but she is my responsibility. I am the party leader in the Commons, so I must look out for my members, lest something happen to them.” There was a long pause. “And you have just one child?” “Two. The older is at university and the younger is still in primary school.” “Two? How on equis did you keep this all a secret?” “There is a reason my uncle entrusts so much in me.” Cuddles leaned back and nodded. ~*~ Bohne Gnash was a prominent faculty member of the University of Canterlot’s Mathematics and Economics departments. His work on Play Theory spawned a whole new branch of behavioral science; he had received the Triple Crown* award in Economics for this work. He was also a paranoid schizophrenic—battling the illness his whole life. It was a consequence of his beautiful mind that such brilliance was coupled with such madness. Thankfully, with treatment, medication, and the love of his pack, he was able to overcome this and continue his life’s work. A week from now he was to be ennobled, becoming the first Diamond Dog member of the House of Lords. It was a reward and recognition for all of his invaluable academic contributions. Duke (or Prince) Blueblood, prior to the death of his father, was a geography professor at the same university. The two actually knew each other, as several of Dr. Gnash’s quantitative methods were applicable to some of the increasing complex ways one could analyze geography. They also both were able to sympathize and lament about mental health issues. Pone Hall was an elegant building, carved granite; it housed the University’s Mathematics Department. Blueblood pushed his way through the oak double doors and made his way to the third floor. In a small lecture hall, he found Dr. Gnash briskly writing on a blackboard. “Bohne.” The old mutt turned and smiled at him. “If it isn’t old Dr. Blood… what brings you stomping around these parts?” “Politics as usual… some scheme my uncle is drawing up. How’s the bitch?” “She’s doing well… when she’s not ploughing me with my meds.” “Liquor and self-doubt?” The old mad dog burst out in a chuckle. “You should know; how’s Derpy holding up?” “Also well, like back in the old Union days.” “That’s good… but your visit… what chicanery is your uncle up to?” “Hard to say really… but politics does come a-knocking.” “How so?” “Once you are ennobled, I may need to ask you a favor…” “Just cause us dogs are good diggers, does not mean we are any decent at hiding a body… you should…” “Oh… ra ra… no, in a few weeks we may need to pull some… parliamentary shenanigans… can I trust you?” “Oh… always,” he said, grinning, showing his teeth. ~*~ “Announcing, the High Commissioner of the Fƥleƥn Court, His Excellency, ƥetrarch.” Once the obnoxious trumpets had ceased blaring, a small, greying fluffy pony, with gold entwined locks of braded fur, shuffled to the high throne. It was early in the Night Court, and Luna sat, feigning staidness on her haunches, resting upon her onyx and mahogany throne. “Your highness,” he said, curtly bowing, “I bring tidings and salutations form Fƥleƥn Court, and tribute and well wishes from Her Majesty, Queen Puffles.” “Rise good nuncio, we welcome thee, prefaced, to our domain and our home. What faire tidings doth the Queen of fluff-and-bother and her courtiers so beseech us?” Getting up on his feet, the scholar continued, “A lengthy probe as to the fashions of thine hegemony pertaining to the frontiers of our provinces—terms and queries that best accommodate themselves in private. “ “So be it. Guards.” The dozen or so thestrals quietly exited the throne room. Luna then quietly descended, draped in the fineries of that time. “It is good to see you again.” “You as well, Luna.” She felt a gentle thrill run through her at such an informal pleasantry. “So, fair nuncio, what demands thine queen?” “Nothing more important than good wine and gentle bards,” he winked. “Thy sly fox,” her lips barely containing her smile, “it would be shameful not to indulge.”