Dr. Roentgen Steed
Admiral Biscuit
Dr. Roentgen Steed was the most famous doctor in the entire Crystal Empire. It was said that he could simply look at a patient and cure her in minutes.
So when the noble Prince Blueblood fell ill, it was only natural that hasty telegrams were sent to the Crystal Empire.
The doctor hastily telegrammed back that he would not come; he had never once set hoof outside the Crystal Empire, and had no desire whatsoever to do so.
Back in Canterlot, there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth, as well as a few quiet 'I told you so's' passed around. Rumor was the doctor had not left his house in decades. Patients came to him.
Bits talk, and a huge pile of them talks rather loudly. Eventually, a price was negotiated. The doctor would come, in his own private coach, in the company of his nursing staff. Upon his arrival in Canterlot, he and his staff would be whisked to Blueblood's residence in a private coach.
Arrangements made, the doctor busied himself with packing, while his nurses hastily moved around appointments. The next morning, they were ready to leave.
On his way to the train station, the doctor magnanimously diagnosed three sick ponies, and informed the clerk at the station that the reason for his current indigestion was the unripe crystal berries he'd eaten for lunch. Then he boarded the private coach, followed by a gaggle of nurses.
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The next morning, he arrived in Canterlot. There was much fanfare at the train station, and many ponies crowded around, hoping to get a glimpse of the famous doctor. Alas, Blueblood was true to his word, and the coach was pulled so close to the railcar that nopony knew he had left until the carriage whipped out of the station, en route to Blueblood's palatal estate.
He was met warmly at the door by a crystal mare who Blueblood had imported specifically for the duty of greeting Dr. Roentgen, and after a perfunctory 'how was your trip' and an offer of brandy to settle the dust, the doctor and his retinue were led up to the sickbed.
In front of the rapt eyes of all present—none more rapt than Blueblood's—the doctor boldly whisked back the comforter and focused his piercing silver eyes on his patient. For forty long agonizing seconds he stared, as the tension in the room mounted. Finally, he blinked.
A slow sigh was released from everypony present.
Again, the good doctor focused his miraculous intellect upon the patient. Nopony dared breathe, fearing that so doing could distract him from some vital sign.
Hope rose as he took a pair of pince-nez glasses from his breast pocket and planted them on his muzzle. His brow furrowed, and he leaned in close. Then he whipped the glasses back off and stuffed them into his pocket with an authoritative finality. “I can do nothing,” he pronounced.
Nopony understood him for a full minute. In their minds, he had given a cure . . . and then, finally, one of the chambermaids spoke up. “Nothing?”
“Nothing.”
“You . . . do not know what is wrong with him?”
“He is sick. Obviously.”
Several heads nodded. Blueblood was sick.
“With what?” one of the maids asked weakly.
“How should I know? I can't see inside him. He's not crystally.” And with that, he stormed out the door, his nurses in tow.
He paused only once at the door, leaning his snout against the doorpony's ear. “Congratulations on your daughter. She will be born in ten months.”
Then he was off, leaving a baffled crystal mare standing in the doorway behind him.