Infiltrating the group wasn’t terribly difficult.
Greengrass had gone into the observatory shortly before closing, entered the west wing, and left a message (typed out so he couldn’t be identify by the writing) to the effect of, “I am a friend and support your cause. I have resources to help you. If you are interested, send a representative to the Inky Quill café tonight.”
And then, because this group seemed to like the sort of Daring Do-esque dramatics, he’d added a few more lines to entice them. Instead of a simple description, or better yet, a seat location, he said, “I will be the pony wearing the thick brown cloak and hood. Every ten minutes, I will scratch my nose. If you send a representative, have him or her walk by my table, pause, and say the word ‘apples.’”
Even Greengrass had found that silly, but the secret agent theatrics were apparently convincing, because within an hour a tallish mare walked past Greengrass’s table and then said – yelled, really – “Oh, horseapples!”
Greengrass had spoken to her. She’d tried playing it coy, but he’d played a better offense and she’d told him all about the group.
“Why do you want to join us?” she had asked.
Greengrass had raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t the question be, ‘Why is your group worth my time?’ You are not the only such group in the city, you know. What makes yours special?”
“I – uh—“ This was clearly not what the mare had been expecting. “What I mean is, why—“
“Look, I’m busy. The goals I am pursuing – that I had hoped we could pursue together – cannot wait. If you will not demonstrate to me the validity of your organization, I will find another. You can explain to your superiors why you don’t have my vast resources.”
“Resources?”
Greengrass opened up a saddlebag and took out a pouch of worthless metal shards, which he jangled as if they were money. (Actual bits in a bag were heavy enough that they didn’t jangle well. Metal shards, if they were big enough, provided the expected sound much better than real money.) “Yes. But if you don’t want them—“
“Oh, we do!” The mare gulped. “Look. You already know what we do, right? We’re tired of the Court oppressing the common ponies like us. Of the Courtiers passing laws based on what’s good for them, and not the ponies that actually make the country work!”
“As am I,” said Greengrass, his voice beckoning the mare on.
“We’re protesting them! Small acts of sabotage, to slow down the Court and make it harder for them to operate. That sewage backup last week that got the Council rooms shut down? That was us! When the Secretary of the Court’s logbook and schedule went missing, so they had to cancel the Court for the day? That was us too! Schedule slip-ups, burned refreshments, everything of that kind – we’re doing all that to stop their machinations. We are going to make it impossible to run this Court, until they have to give in to our demands!”
“What are they?”
“Add more seats to the Court, and have those be filled by ponies elected by the various communities! Eventually, we want it to be entirely elected, but we’ll settle for now for half and half. The noble families will get exactly as much say as the views of the ponies who do all the actual work.”
Greengrass bit his tongue so he didn’t burst into laughter. The Court would sooner burn down Canterlot Castle and fragment into independent fiefdoms than do that. Voluntarily relinquish power? It would never happen. “Ah, a more democratic perspective. Precisely my viewpoint!”
“After all, why should those ponies get to decide how our lives go but remain unaccountable?” The mare grinned. “Alright, I think I’ve made my point. Ready to join us?”
“Of course!”
“Now – please don’t take offense – but we need you to sign this.” The mare produced a paper, which pronounced that the signer was now a member of a dissident group plotting the eventual overthrow of the Court. “’This is just so that you don’t betray us later—“
“I’m glad to see that your security is so tight. You can’t be too careful with these things,” said the Duke, signing the name Hugh G. Belly and showing the mare a few legal papers with that same name on them. This was a fake identity that Notary had helped design for him a while ago; ‘Hugh’ had a fictitious address, employment records, even a short stint in prison for salt smuggling. It would stand up to substantial scrutiny, which was more than these idiots were likely to be able to procure. “Shall we?”
“I’ll take you to meet the group!”
###
‘The group’ was the Canterlot Common Pony Supporters, or CCPS (pronounced ‘cee-ceeps.’) They were wearing concealing outfits such as cloaks and parkas, except for the unicorns, which were casting illusion spells. Greengrass thought this was stupid, since any real law-enforcement agency that found out about them would easily be able to arrest them all and find out their real identities, but Hugh G. Belly just said it was ‘a brilliant security precaution.’
Because the group was cloaked and disguised, Greengrass wasn’t able to identify more than a few of them. (He wished he still had the services of Octavia Philharmonica, who could identify ponies by their voices or gait, but he would just have to make do without her). He was pretty sure that the squat one on the far left worked in the kitchens, and the short one near the center of the group represented a minor pear-growing concern that wasn’t good enough to merit the favor or aid of the Court. By and large, it looked like most of the ponies there were like that – servants and the most minor of nobles.
The leader was a tall pony – very tall, actually, near Luna’s height -- who wouldn’t give his name, and despite the group’s democratic pretensions, he seemed to be making all the calls. After briefly greeting ‘Belly,’ he immediately returned his attention to business. “Alright. Like I was saying, I think we need to step it up to the next level. Now, starting five days from now, the Court is going to have several sessions on which businesses to fund in the next year –“
“Their own!” yelled out one of the group’s members.
“Yes,” said the leader. “Their own. Once again, they’ll put their own welfare over that of the nation.”
Greengrass blinked. Unlike the others, the leader’s comments sounded almost perfunctory. His eyes narrowed slightly.
“But to justify their corrupt decisions, they’ll need research. I’m thinking we want to prevent that research. Let’s make the library unusable.” The leader grinned. “A few burst pipes.”
“There’s a big magical spell in the library to stop the books from getting wet,” said one of the other ponies. “On the shelves.”
“Yeah, but the library itself will still be under two feet of water. Besides, we can steal some of the most important books.”
“Which ones?” asked the Duke.
“One of us works in the library and has access to the check-out lists,” said the leader. “We can determine, say, the twenty or thirty books that are most commonly checked out during the ‘Court ponies pick which businesses to boost’ weeks, and which can’t be easily obtained elsewhere – Court books, or stuff that’s only owned by the Canterlot library. Then we just steal all the copies of them.”
Any books that rare would probably not be publically available, thought Greengrass. If the group actually tried this, they would have to break into the library’s security, and unless the fugitive Twilight Sparkle was among them, that was not likely. They’d be more likely to just get caught.
“That’ll show them!” yelled the mare.
The meeting soon turned to the newest members. There was a cook who felt generically unappreciated, a farmer who hadn’t gotten the bailout she needed to stay afloat, the son of a baron who was basically engaging in standard teenage rebellion. And then Greengrass found himself called upon. “And what about you? Why did you decide to join us?” asked the leader.
“I just couldn’t take the depredations of the Court anymore,” said Greengrass, bringing to mind the sad history of ‘Belly.’ “Honestly, between the greedy ones who only care about their own profit like Puissance, and the lazy ones who don’t want to do a lick of work like Luna’s student Lulamoon, it’s clear that all they do is take from us to get out of doing an honest day’s labor!”
“And they ruin innocent ponies in doing so,” commented another pony.
“Yes,” said Greengrass. “Like that Duke Greengrass fellow that was exposed during the Gala. I read in the papers that he committed all manner of depravities!” His fall had been a convenient time for every noble with dirty secrets to pin their crimes on him. Greengrass had noted sardonically that, according to different newspapers, on one cold winter morning he was in six different dwellings doing six different devious, dastardly deeds. He had been swindling a widow out of her life’s savings in Trottingham, pushing a small raincloud company out of business in Cloudsdale, orchestrating the collapse of an anti-mob task force in Prance, and even worse deeds elsewhere. (In reality, he had been at home, eating toast and jam and deciding how best to flatter Fragrant Posey into voting his way on a lumber bill). “Bribery, blackmail, extortion, theft, frame-ups…”
“And I heard that he tried to drink the blood of the Element of Magic to gain her power!” chimed in the mare who had met Greengrass earlier.
Greengrass blinked. “…yes, of all of Greengrass’s many sins, surely among the worst is his… vampirism.” These ponies are idiots.
But it worked, and Greengrass found himself accepted by the group. A few even commiserated with him and offered him help getting back on his hooves. Greengrass accepted their well-wishes with grace and aplomb. “What about you?” he asked the leader. “What led you to this cause?”
“The Court… well, an agent of the Court hurt a very dear friend of mine.” And that was all Greengrass could get out of him.
Most of the rest of the meeting was just plotting future crimes. Greengrass spent his time trying to identify the other ponies, although he had little luck. But there was one interesting bit at the end.
“By the way,” the leader said. “We still could use a pony on the pageantry committee. If you know of any likely ones, tell me about them two nights from now, when we meet to back up the pipes.”
The ponies murmured.
“Alright. Let’s go. Remember, two nights from now, the Hoof and Horseshoe Bar. It’s closed while the owner’s away, so it’s the perfect place to meet.” The pony nodded. “Good luck, and may we bring down the corrupt Courtiers who ruin our lives!”
###
“Okay,” said Greengrass. “Most of those ponies are complete morons, but they haven’t been caught yet. What does that mean?”
It wasn’t just good leadership. Good leadership would involve choosing ponies that weren’t idiots to join his cause. Good leadership would have jettisoned the blazingly obvious secret locations, and would have either a better system for ensuring that no pony’s real names were discovered, or would forego the idea entirely, on the basis that if they all got caught they were doomed no matter what.
It wasn’t just luck either. The ponies had been successful a couple of times – Greengrass recalled the incidents of sabotage that the mare had mentioned. That would take at least some skill and planning. Resources too; messing with the castle’s plumbing would likely take decent tools and a map of the castle pipes. Plus, the ponies in the castle archives had mentioned that they would be getting money, and Greengrass hadn’t sensed that any of those ponies had access to a lot of it. All that indicated that they had somepony competent backing them… but again, that pony was apparently willing to put up with a lot of incompetence.
“Alright, think. A group of idiots that is nevertheless successful and has rich backing.” Greengrass sighed as he sat at his table to have his breakfast before bed. “Assuming the backer is competent, he has to know that he could get better results out of them…”
Well, wait. He didn’t know who had actually sabotaged the pipes. Maybe there were a few ponies there that were competent and a group of idiots surrounding them. Which would mean…
“Fall guys,” he said, nodding. “That makes sense.”
The plan made sense now. Some backer secretly sponsored a group to engage in minor sabotage around the castle. The events were happening on certain days when the Court was doing certain things, and Greengrass would guess that those things were things the backer didn’t want going on. The leader, the only competent plotter in the group, was probably in on it and making sure the group did what the backer wanted. Inevitably, the group would be discovered, and the grunt workers would take the fall while the backer (and the group’s ostensible leader, probably) faded into the background.
“Okay. I need to get the leader’s true identity, and the backer – and fast, before whoever’s behind this decides they’ve gotten as much mileage as they can out of it.” Greengrass thought. He had to demonstrate his ability and prove to the leader that he’d be much more useful in the inner circle than out of it. Then he might be able to meet the backer, at which point he could bring down the organization.
And he had to do it all without actually committing any serious crimes that would make the whole thing pointless, and before the group screwed up and was caught for real. That mattered too.
“But if it was easy, it wouldn’t be much of a Game.” Greengrass grinned. He felt alive again, for the first time in months. It was him, his wits, and his resources against the group and the shadowy backer behind them. He would play, and he would win. That was all there was to it.
What could go wrong?
###
Notary considered herself to be relatively imperturbable. She took things in stride, kept her cool, and was in general a consummate professional. Yet, there she was, in Fisher’s office, utterly consumed by one single emotion.
Jealousy.
As she watched, Fisher picked up another blank form. He creased his brow in thought, and his horn glowed. And then, magically, the ink in the pot receded a little, and words appeared on the page at the speed of thought.
In about two minutes, he finished writing the five page letter. In another flash, the envelope was addressed. “File this with the rest of the outgoing mail, Notary.”
Well, they were making good time at least.
Notary had been mildly surprised by Fisher’s work ethic. Most employers she’d considered took a little time to ease into the work day; while Greengrass, for instance, could hit the ground running if he had to, he liked to start with a nice meal and perhaps a cup of hot chocolate before digging into things. Not Fisher, though; precisely two hours before the Court had opened, Fisher had exited his room, gone directly to his desk, and begun dictating orders to Notary.
To be fair, there was a lot of work to do. Fisher maintained a very close watch on his companies and his fiefdom, and there was no end of paperwork that had to be completed – it seemed like most major decisions still routed through him. “Notary,” Fisher said at one point, “Get me the files on the Tractor Trust – third bookshelf. Look up for me the gross tonnage shipped in the last ten years.”
“Yes, sir.”
Notary didn’t do nearly as much paperwork as she’d thought she would -- she did some, of course, most of the routine filing that wasn’t worth Fisher’s time – but her job was more often that of a reference librarian and mail clerk. She looked up the facts Fisher needed and navigated his complicated filing system to get the appropriate forms sent to the appropriate places. The time went quickly, though Fisher made no small talk and was all business. Notary said almost nothing but “Yes, sir,” unless it was reciting a figure from a book.
During the night, Fisher insisted that Notary and a few other servants accompany him around. Greengrass had often mocked this habit of Fisher’s, and indeed, they weren’t all necessary, but Fisher did it regardless. This was something Notary couldn’t figure out, especially as the servants didn’t do much besides tell Fisher how great his schemes were. (She hoped that he didn’t really need that kind of ego massaging; that was a very bad sign in an employer). But he conducted his Court business with the same serious and blunt nature, and Notary had to admit that it brought results. Although, of course, his success could also be due to his Special Forces that were patrolling parts of the castle. They were intimidating, after all.
(Notary had kept an eye out for Duke Greengrass, but she hadn’t seen him. It was like he had vanished completely from Court life. She did a reasonably good job, she thought, of forcing herself not to think about that).
When Court business was done, Fisher and Notary returned to the office for another two hours of business work. Only at the conclusion of that did Fisher dismiss Notary with a curt, “Same time tomorrow.” And then he returned to his quarters, and Majordomo was shooing her out the door.
She returned home, ate a hasty meal, and went to bed. And in a few hours, she got up to do it over again.
It was a few days after she was hired that Fisher kept her late. “You’ve done everything I’ve asked of you, correctly, and on the first try too. Well done.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Also, I’ve been watching to see if Greengrass sticks his head back up. He hasn’t acted on any of the information you’ve had the chance to absorb, which indicates to me that you haven’t been feeding it to him. After all, with him as desperate as he is, I doubt he would wait if you gave him anything actionable – he would use it right away.” Fisher nodded slightly. “You will begin the other portion of your duties tonight.”
“And those are?”
Greengrass inclined his head at Turqoise Blade, who stepped forwards. “In order to demonstrate our utility, the Archduke wants us to destroy a dangerous group within Canterlot.”
“My Forces are more than capable of winning in a fight, but there’s always the concern that we might miss one,” said Fisher. “And they may have secret assistance, from rich or politically connected ponies, who could escape if the group itself was defeated. For the sake of Canterlot, that is not acceptable. Your task will be to assist my team in ferreting out each of the members of the group and identifying them.” He rose. “Let me be very clear – while I will give you the resources you need, do not expect me to bail you out if you are caught in a compromising situation. I am needed to run the Special Forces, my businesses, and my fiefdom. I cannot endanger that to save you.”
Is that because I’m not a unicorn? But Notary just said, “Of course, sir.”
“Blade will brief you on what we know about them. You may use any of your skills to gain the information I seek.” Fisher checked his watch. “As for scheduling, you will report to work at your usual time tomorrow. Instead of accompanying me during my time in the Court, though, you will begin your infiltration. You will return by the end of Court hours for the remainder of my business work, and will also inform Blade and myself of what you know.”
Notary nodded. “In that case, what I will try is—“
“Blade will inform you as to what you are to try,” said Fisher.
“I have some experience in this area, sir,” said Notary, her voice stressing the fourth word slightly. “Turquoise Blade does not.”
Fisher opened his mouth, looking angry, but then paused. “…very well. Part of being a good manager is knowing when to be hooves-off. But I trust that you will bring me results, Notary. We have little time.”
“Do I have a deadline?”
Fisher glanced at a calendar. “Princess Cadence is having a major celebration soon. The group will probably try to disrupt it, so we need to shut them down by then. That’s the deadline. Bring me the names, Notary, and I will reward you handsomely.”
And that was that.
###
“Archduke, may I say something?” asked Lightning.
“Certainly. Your counsel I value.” Fisher shook his head. Blade had taken Notary into a side room, but it still aggravated him that his secretary – an earth pony not even half his age, with none of his experience, would dare offer her own strategies instead of using his. There was a reason he led a dozen companies, was a powerful and prominent politician, and was the Canterlot Chess Champion for six years in a row, while she was a common criminal with above-par filing skills.
“I was surprised that she believed that she had won your trust in only a few days. That sort of thing takes months.”
“She’s not a politician; she has no framework to evaluate that,” said Fisher, already returning to his business documents. “I’m sure that Greengrass handled that for her in the past. Does it matter?”
“She could figure out that you’re… well, that you want her in particular very badly.”
“So she asks for a raise. I’ll give it to her. She knows her skills are very difficult to match, especially combined with her professionalism.” Fisher turned a page. “But I want her in particular, for at least a few weeks. This group, the CCPS, has to be my priority. After your failure in Ponyville, I need a victory to justify the existence of the USF. This is the closest one I can get.”
“Yes, archduke.” Lightning bowed. “And… do you want me to keep an eye on her?”
“Not yet. The leader of the group is clever; if he does discover Notary, I don’t want to risk losing you as well. The USF cannot afford to lose again.” Fisher nodded. “But perhaps later, as the time draws near.” He smiled slightly. “And don’t worry. If she does betray me, or work against me in some way… I’ll let you handle the punishment.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The two lapsed into silence, and Fisher continued with his work.
###
Just like old times, thought Notary, as she returned home. Weeding again, just for a new master.
She sighed. She did not like Fisher much at all; he was brusque and difficult to talk to, he often seemed annoyed by Notary’s ideas and suggestions, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that he didn’t think of her as much more than one of his chess pawns. But he was the best she could do, so she’d make the most of it.
Besides. If nothing else, his appreciation for quality work and his zeal to get everything right was obvious. He did listen to her, even if she had to push a bit, and it wasn’t like Greengrass always followed her advice on the first try anyway. So Fisher was sensible, then, and seemed to respect her. If she did a good job, she could advance. They both could, and that was what Notary wanted.
Nodding to herself, Notary got into bed. It would be a big evening.