Maybe I should just go home, mused Greengrass.
It was late evening, about a week after Notary had resigned. Princess Luna Equestris had just lowered the sun, and the Night Court was beginning to kick into operation. He heard voices chattering through the hallways, those of servants and pages gossiping about their masters, soldiers and guards checking orders, and the Courtiers themselves, weaving the strands that tugged a whole nation. But he, of course, was not among them, and he could find no way to change that.
Of course, the thought of giving up and going home was anathema to the Duke. Ruling the country was his main goal, his one greatest ambition, and to leave now would forever taint his chances. He could lie and say that it was just a strategic retreat, a grace period to allow the memory of his collapse to fade, but he knew that wouldn’t work. He’d forever be known as the pony that couldn’t hack it, the one who, when bested by a young student, had to go home and lick his wounds. He could wait thirty years after that and never regain what he had lost.
So Greengrass sat on his bed and wracked his brain and tried to come up with some way back into the Game. Some strategy he hadn’t yet devised. No Courtier would deal with him, no noble, businesspony, or industrialist would give him the time of day, but there had to be something he could do. Some way to scam or swindle his way back to his seat, where he could begin rebuilding his power base.
If only he could think of it.
As Greengrass dressed and left his quarters, he mused on how other ponies – those who hadn’t started ennobled, but had been given seats later in life – had done it. A few had simply bought the seats, of course, sponsored by the large Trusts and corporations that wanted more overt political control. Some were recognized for meritous service by Luna or her aides and rewarded for it by a seat. That was how Baron Mounty Max had gained his title, for example; he’d saved several foals from a rock slide, been turned into a hero by the press, and had been ennobled a few weeks later.
Perform some service? The Duke had considered that. If he stopped thinking of himself as an ex-Courtier and acted just like any other pony who did not currently have a seat but wanted one, he supposed he might be able to win his seat back (or at least some seat) by performing some act of great valor or merit for Equestria. But he’d considered this before, and the problem was always the same. To win a seat by that method, one had to be personally approved by Luna Herself. That would never happen for the Duke; no matter what he did, she would never give him back the seat.
Besides, he wasn’t his father, and thank the stars for that. Greengrass shuddered briefly at the thought.
But that left him where he was before, out of ideas and –
As he passed the Quill Café, he saw Ruby Inkquill purchasing a hot chocolate.
It took Greengrass a moment – I’m out of practice at this, he thought – to realize why that was so odd. Inkquill ran the Canterlot Library, or more precisely, one of the external storage wings, where they kept the books that they owned but that weren’t checked out frequently enough to merit shelf space in the main library. She was a strict creature of habit, having never, as far as Greengrass knew, deviated from her routine as long as he had been at Canterlot. And, according to that routine, she should have been at work by then.
Greengrass wondered if he was misremembering her routine, but he didn’t think so. He’d embarked on a few ventures that had required access to the archives; so many ponies thought it was inaccessible that they would trust anything that could be found therein. Simply plant an old diary, say, containing some fictitious crime, arrange for it to be discovered, and voila, one had blackmail material for something some other pony’s ancestors had (not really) done. “Do you really want the world to know that your grandfather stole half your family’s land from the Starlight clan? They’ll sue to get it back. But I can keep it secret if you help me out…”
So he knew her schedule. He’d timed his own infiltrations of the archives, and Notary’s as well, around it. He was certain, then, that this was a deviation. Still, it wouldn’t be impossible for even her to break her routine. She wasn’t somepony like Octavia, who would probably rather jump off the Eastern Tower than miss a day of practicing. So this didn’t necessarily mean anything.
Deciding to find out, Greengrass looked around and spotted a foolishly unattended donut sitting on the table in front of him. He plucked it up and rewrapped it so that it looked fresh. Then he approached a waiter. “Excuse me, I think this was delivered to me by mistake? I heard the mare in front of me order it.” He pointed at Inkquill.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” The waiter took the donut and trotted over to her.
Greengrass slipped into the crowd and kept his gaze fixed on Inkquill. The waiter was approaching her, he tapped her on the shoulder, and –
Inkquill jumped like she’d been stung like a bee.
Greengrass blinked as the librarian wheeled around. It took her a moment of looking at the waiter for her calm grin to reassert itself. Once the waiter left, she looked over her shoulder a few times before returning her focus to her large cup of tea. And that look on her face, the slightly strained expression, the faintest hint of shame, made her look… guilty?
Like she’s worried about being discovered. She’s doing something she shouldn’t, and she really doesn’t want anypony to know. It’s not a vacation, then, and I doubt it’s simple tardiness – it’s more than that. Something’s not right.
Could she have been bribed, or threatened, to leave the archives for a short time? It wasn’t impossible. It wasn’t terribly bright on the part of whoever had done it, but Greengrass knew there were a few idiots in the Court. If they wanted to mess with the archives, or even hold a secret meeting there…
Greengrass began to leave the Café. It was probably nothing, but just in case…
The archive door was locked, and Greengrass decided not to try to break in. Any marginally competent plotter would have a pony watching the door. Besides, Notary was much better at that sort of thing than he was.
Instead, Greengrass walked around the outside of the archives room until he turned the corner and came to a small staircase. This led up into a part of the castle that was used mostly for storage. A lot of Courtiers didn’t know where those stairs went or even that they existed, but getting complete architectural plans of the castle – and memorizing them – had been one of Greengrass’s first tasks when he joined the Court. So he reached the level above the archives without difficulty.
The Duke paced off twenty steps from the top of the stairs – this would put him directly above the first few shelves of the archives – and then knelt down and began to work at the floor.
Installing a few discrete eavesdropping holes had been one of the other first few tasks that he’d undertaken upon arriving at the Court.
The stone hadn’t been raised up in a while, but Greengrass was able to lever it up with a thin metal rod that he’d brought, and he was soon able to lean down and press his ear against the hole. Sounds from the archives below drifted up to him.
“…I’m not sure about this.”
“Why? The money’s good, and it’s not like we’re being asked to do anything crazy.”
“Yeah, I get that, but still. That’s the thing. It’s a lot of money for random nonsense.”
Secret meeting then. Greengrass could not hold back a smirk. Amateurs. You don’t have a secret meeting somewhere like this. Go to a café or park, where nopony will notice or care that you’re talking! Here, you might as well have a giant sign above you proclaiming that you’re doing something you shouldn’t.
“Look, are you in or not?”
“I… alright, fine.” Greengrass heard the sound of a quill scratching over parchment. They were making this new pony sign some kind of confession or loyalty oath, then, something that would implicate him if they were caught, so he had an incentive to be careful. “There. Happy?”
“Next meeting’s at the time listed on that parchment, in the west wing of the observatory. You won’t regret this.”
“What? Why there? It’ll be packed.”
“Nope. We have a stallion on the Canterlot weather team who knows the forecast. It’s scheduled to rain then. Clouds everywhere. We can clear out any stragglers.”
“…alright. See you there. Hey, did you get that book yet?”
“Got it.” Greengrass heard the sound of a book being removed from a shelf. “Let’s get out of here. Inkwell’ll be back in a few.”
###
Inkwell returned in five minutes. Greengrass strode into the archives at ten. “Good evening, Inkwell.”
Inkwell glanced up at him, rolled her eyes, and returned her gaze to the book in front of her. “What do you want?”
“An Overview of Irrigation and Agricultural Water Practices, by Coldwater Fountainmaker. My fiefdom is beginning some new agricultural projects, or at least we want to, and I need some research,” lied Greengrass. The book was real, but he had no intention of reading that snooze-fest. He just needed to get near where he’d overheard those ponies, so he could try to find the missing book. It was probably research that some industrial group or noble backer wanted (and wanted to make unavailable for rivals), but knowing what the book was would help him figure out who, exactly, had taken it.
Inkwell sighed and began to look through a catalogue. “Row thirty-four, on your right, third shelf from the top.”
“Thank you!” Greengrass smiled genially and began to trot forward.
“I’ll get it,” said Inkwell, rising to her hooves. “You wait here.”
As expected. Inkwell didn’t like other ponies, particularly ponies who weren’t librarians or researchers, rummaging through the stacks, and she did have the right to insist upon retrieving books personally. She’d won that right after some moron had spilled an extra-tall coffee all over some ancient and irreplaceable ledgers and diaries. “As you wish. I’m in a bit of a hurry, though, so—“
“Hmph.” Inkwell began to move to the back.
Greengrass gave her ten minutes. That would be enough time for her to realize that the book had apparently been misplaced or lost (Notary had stolen it six months ago, in preparation for a scheme such as this one). After that, he called, “Is everything alright?” He waited a moment. “Do you need help?”
“I’m fine!”
“Inkwell, if you can’t find it, I’d be happy to lend a hoof.”
He smiled to himself as he imagined what Inkwell was thinking. She’d be wanting to return to her own book by now, would be leery of other ponies coming in while she was in the back, and would also have reason to fear Greengrass making a complaint against her. After all, she’d promised to get him the book, and now she wasn’t doing that. She’d have to—
“Alright. Get back here.”
Greengrass trotted over to her, then, with her brusque permission, began to move away. He soon made his way over to where he’d heard the ponies talking before. Most of the books were there, and the ones that weren’t had little slips in their spots to indicate the expected date of return. He was looking for a slot either without such a slip, or with a forged one, and –
Wait, there. It was the only completely vacant slot in the row. Greengrass trotted over, making a note of the location and the books around it.
“Section…” Greengrass paused. “Political Theory? Okay, books around it… Effective Protests and Demonstrations?? Slowdown and Shortages – How Small Businesses Brought Down the Sofa Conglomerate . Luna and Her Henchmares: How Even Small Ponies Can Win Out Over Dictators. How is that one even legal?”
What in the world was this?
“Greengrass?”
Greengrass hurried to the end of the row and smiled at Inkwell. “Any luck?”
“No. But I did find other books that might be useful instead.” Inkwell gestured at the door. “And I would be most happy to check them out for you.”
“I would appreciate that. Thank you ever so much.”
As Greengrass walked away from the library, he began to trot. He had to think about this.
###
“Did I really just blunder into some kind of anti-Court society?” mused the Duke.
That seemed phenomenally unlikely. Even assuming everything was as it had sounded, it was far more likely that he’d found a group of dorks who thought they were being edgy by having secret meetings and reading ‘forbidden’ literature that wasn’t even really forbidden (it was in the publically accessible archives, after all). That would be the most likely explanation…
If it wasn’t for the mention of money. The one pony had mentioned being paid a lot, and the other hadn’t sounded surprised or indignant, indicating that he was probably receiving a fair amount of bits too. Someone rich was backing this.
Could it be real?
Greengrass paced as he thought. If it was, if by sheer chance it was really a pro-Celestia group that had bribed Inkwell, then that meant…
He smiled. He felt the rush again, the familiar sense of having a scheme and the means to pull it off. He could infiltrate the group, discover who the leaders and backers were, and then expose them. Publically. Luna Herself would have to reward him for unearthing a cluster of… well, if he tried he could probably make them out to be some kind of terrorists. She’d have to give him his seat back, unless she wanted to look like she was weak on national security, and give her enemies in the Court plenty of ammunition to go after her with.
Yes. That could be it.
He glanced to one side before remembering that Notary had resigned. This would normally be where he explained his plan to her and she checked it for problems. But she wasn’t there. So he’d have to think of her objections on his own.
Well, first of all, if the group was real – an honest-to-goodness collection of anarchists or political zealots who wanted to do something bad to the government -- and they discovered him, they would kill him. He’d be outnumbered, and he had none of his usual set of guards or minions. He couldn’t hope to fight them all off.
Second, if he infiltrated the group, but it was discovered by the guards, Shadowbolts, or another noble’s investigation team before he himself exposed them, he’d go down with them. And that was a significant concern. The group was completely inept; Greengrass, after all, had found his first clue about them largely because they’d gone to the bother of sending Inkwell away rather than having their clandestine meeting somewhere sensible. He knew what they wanted because they’d only taken the one book, instead of several to divert suspicion. Yes, they seemed to have money from somewhere, but that just meant they had a member with money, or an idiot backer who’d been snowed. If he did infiltrate the group, he’d have to move very quickly, lest he be arrested as well.
Third, if he infiltrated the group and they actually managed to pull off something serious, Greengrass would be doomed no matter what he did. Even if he took down the group later, if it had, say, burned down half the castle, or taken hostages, or abducted somepony, whatever credit he got from taking them down wouldn’t be anything against the punishment for assisting (or appearing to assist) with whatever they did.
So, for this to work, he’d have to get into the group without arousing suspicion, somehow prevent them from doing whatever it was they planned on doing (they had said it was just ‘nonsense,’ but Greengrass was reasonably certain that the ‘nonsense’ was just to lure ponies in – if a lot of money was moving around, somepony wanted something significant from them), unmask the leaders, and expose them, all before the Royal Guards, Shadowbolts, or a team working for another noble (like Fisher’s Unicorn Special Forces, which were now part of the castle’s security team), discovered and arrested all of them.
Yes, Notary would definitely tell him to forget this idea.
But he couldn’t dismiss it. Here was his chance. If he did this, if he pulled it off, he’d be back in. He’d be in the Game again, and he could resume his political life. Not just like before, but even better – he’d be the only pony in the Court who had come back from political exile. ‘Even Luna Herself couldn’t keep him out,’ they would whisper. He’d have a few months where he could get whatever he wanted, where…
Okay, that was getting ahead of himself. For now, it would be enough to visualize being back in his seat. Yes, the risks were great, but the alternative was unthinkable. He would not retire to his home and live the next fifty years in idle luxury, or puttering around his own little fiefdom. No, Greengrass was a pony who needed to grow. To cultivate. He would not be satisfied with just a petty fiefdom.
The observatory – that was the next step. Greengrass began to put together his disguise, whistling merrily.
###
“Notary.”
Notary glanced up to see Majordomo, the… well, majordomo, of Archduke Bobbing Fisher. He was an orange-ish unicorn whose face always seemed to be locked in a sneer. She nodded at him. “Yes?”
“Please come with me.”
Notary raised an eyebrow, but followed Majordomo. What would Fisher want with her? Probably to purchase Greengrass’s secrets; she’d had a few requests for that already, but those weren’t for sale. She wasn’t going to sell the secrets from a past master to a new one; only an idiot would hire her if she did that, and Notary did not want to work for an idiot.
Majordomo led her into the section of the castle reserved for the offices and quarters of the nobility, and then up the stairs until they reached Archduke Fisher’s door. It was ornate, Notary noted, with the Fisher family crest cut into the wood, and the logos of Fisher’s flagship companies etched all around the border. One of the etchings still seemed fresh – Digger Industries, the company that had developed his new drill bit. The others were older, some almost ancient. The Fisher family had been at the forefront of Equestrian industry since time immemorial.
Majordomo unlocked the door and showed Notary inside. It hadn’t changed much since the last time Notary had snuck in there (Fisher’s locks were top-quality and immune to even Notary’s powers, but one of his junior pages had proven amenable to a hefty bribe). The main room was well appointed, with multiple bookshelves full of tomes on the law and on magic, and a large desk at one end. Doors lead to the quarters for Fisher and his closest assistants, and also a few offices for business meetings.
Notary glanced at the desk. It bore mostly work-related items; a few books, a quill and ink, papers, a lamp. There were two exceptions. One was a small tray with miniatures that seemed to represent Fisher’s industries – a tiny tractor, a tiny drill bit, a small building, and more. The other was a chess set, large and ornate, and with the pieces set up as if in a game.
Archduke Fisher was not in, but two members of his Unicorn Special Forces, or USF, were standing by the door to his bedroom. Notary recognized both of them. One was Turquoise Blade, a tall and elegant mare with a sword at one side and a sharp horn that she’d dyed to match her ocean-blue coat. She was a champion fencer who used her telekinesis to manipulate her blade; she’d been in the Equestria military until Fisher had convinced her to join his team.
The other was a tall and stocky unicorn stallion, with a lightning bolt cutie mark and a tan coat. He was…
“Captain Lightning.” Notary inclined her head. “Hello again.”
“It’s just Lightning now, thanks to that sun-spawn you called a boss.” Lightning turned to Majordomo. “Fisher isn’t seriously thinking of hiring this mule, is he? I know I’ve told him what she’s done.”
“One mustn’t blame the servant for the sins of the master,” said Majordomo. “And one mustn’t let personal conflicts get in the way of important work.”
Important work?
“Sure, but one shouldn’t trust rats and mules with important work either. Does Fisher really want to be associated with her? She’”
“Apparently, since he asked me to come here,” said Notary.
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
“You entered the political arena of your own free will,” said Notary, “Offering yourself as a trophy of Nobility’s so that she would vote how you wanted regarding military affairs. If you did not want to risk losing, you should not have been in the Game.” That was a line Greengrass had often uttered, and Notary agreed with him.
“This is no Game, you little—“
One of the office doors opened, and Fisher stepped out. A bill floated before him which Notary recognized as a recent military appropriations act. Fisher was examining it carefully. A quill floated in front of it, scratching comments as he walked.
Nopony said anything until Fisher had seated himself at his desk and set the bill down. The two soldiers had moved to stand at attention and maintained this pose; Majordomo faded back behind a smaller desk, where he resumed his own work. Fisher he glanced up. “Miss Notary. I’m glad to see that Majordomo found you.”
Notary inclined her head.
“I understand that you are looking for a new master.” Fisher made more notes on the bill. “As it happens, I have need of an assistant.”
“What would my tasks be?”
“On paper, you would be my secretary and personal assistant. You would assist with clerical work, such as filing papers and transcribing letters. You would also schedule appointments and handle the logistical side of things; reserving conference rooms and the like.”
“And off paper?”
Fisher shrugged. “I am conducting an investigation of a recently formed group in the castle that could prove dangerous. You will assist with it, using some of the… less public skills that you displayed while working for your previous boss.”
“What group? And what exactly would I be doing?”
“I won’t tell you yet. I need to know if I can trust you first, Miss Notary. For all I know, this ‘resignation’ of yours is just a ruse, and you plan to report your new master’s secrets back to Greengrass at the first opportunity.” Fisher’s voice betrayed no emotion.
“That would hamper my ability to change employers for real, should such become necessary,” pointed out Notary.
“I’ve learned that ponies do not always make the rational decision. Be that as it may, I do promise you that if, when I tell you of your other duties, you object, you may resign at that time with no penalty.” Fisher crossed out something on the bill. “Your day will begin when I wake, two hours before Court business starts, and will end two hours after the Court closes for the morning. Unlike some of the ponies here, who are only politicians, I must also manage my business empire, and I take a close interest in the affairs of my fiefdom as well – after all, it is on the border and all.” He sounded serious, Notary thought – quite different from the jocular Greengrass. “I’ll match whatever Greengrass was paying you.”
Notary named the figure, expecting Fisher to tell her to stop lying – Greengrass had paid her quite well.
Fisher didn’t bat an eye, though. “That sounds about right. Do you have any questions?”
Notary hesitated. She felt like she should turn this offer down. She didn’t need the money, and the mysterious ‘secret duties’ was a red flag. Yes, Fisher said she could quit if she didn’t like them, and yes, he might just be concerned that she would betray him, but…
“If you serve me well, of course, you would have substantial opportunity for advancement.” Fisher said. “As I’m sure you’re aware, I head many corporations. They require capable administrators. After a sufficient period of proving yourself, if you wanted, I would be pleased to transfer you to a management position in one of those businesses. You are unusually young for such a position, but I’m given to understand you are unusually skilled as well. Or, you could stay here.” He turned a page in the bill with his telekinesis. “Assisting me, an archduke… perhaps soon, a viceroy.”
“So you’re seeking to move up in the Court?” Now that did interest Notary. She had no interest in employers with no ambition.
“Yes.”
“The next rank is ‘viceroy,’ but there can only be one viceroy or vicereine of each tribe. Do you have a plan for dealing with the Starlight clan?”
“Yes, repealing that restriction. If there are, say, two unicorns capable of the job, and no earth ponies, why shouldn’t there be two unicorn viceroys?” Fisher finally showed an emotion, snorting derisively. “But, if that cannot happen… Night Light has picked a fight with Luna’s favored student, his own daughter is a fugitive from justice, and the Special Forces will soon demonstrate that they are far more important to the safety and security of this great nation than his son’s Guards. Now they share the duties of defending the castle with Armor’s soldiers, but soon it will be clear that they are far more capable than his motley brigades. Once the Forces prove themselves, I feel that I will be able to surpass Night Light without undue difficulty.”
That was more ambition – and sensible ambition, at that – than Notary had sensed from any of the others that she had talked with over the past week. Excluding Puissance, who had flatly said that she wasn’t interested in somepony as ‘plain’ as Notary, most of the ones she’d talked to had either expressed no interest in advancing, or only wild ideas that could never work. Fisher seemed to have a real plan. There was potential, there.
“Do you accept the job?”
Notary was not a politician; she knew that Greengrass would be able to see better than her if she was agreeing to a bad deal. But he wasn’t there, and she would have to do this on her own. She would be careful and wary, but she would take this opportunity. “I do.”
“Archduke,” cut in Lightning, “Wait. I protest. She’s betrayed numerous ponies for Greengrass, including me. Whatever talents she has, there must be an honest pony out there with the same ones.”
Fisher looked annoyed for a second, but then the moment had passed, quickly enough that Notary wasn’t sure if it had just been a trick of the light. “I appreciate the concern, and believe me, I’m taking that into consideration. While she is in my employ, a USF member will watch her until she proves that she deserves my trust. Does that satisfy you?”
“…Okay.” Lightning nodded and resumed standing at attention. Notary, for her part, bumped Fisher up another notch – she knew too many nobles that hated any criticism from their servants and bodyguards. That Fisher was willing to accept such comments was a point in his favor.
“Very well. Your office is the fourth door from the right. You start tomorrow.” Fisher then glanced at Majordomo. “Let her in tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, Archduke.”
Fisher turned back to his bill, and Notary got the sense that she was dismissed. “I will see you then, sir.”
Fisher made no comment, and Notary left.