//------------------------------// // Chapter 6 // Story: Monarchic Melancholy // by Cympforz //------------------------------// “Colt, what do you know of the Stable?” HRH Princess Mi Amore Cadenza – Cadance – had disappeared off somewhere, no doubt to talk to HCH The Princess of Equestria – Princess Celestia –, so HRH Prince Blueblood Polaris, Marquess of Ostarrein, at the age of six, was the sole target of HRH The Prince of Unicorns’ frustration and attempts to educate his children on the detailed intricacies of Equestrian Government, including such noble, dignified matters as graft, sinecures, collusion and coercion. “The Equestrian Legislature, established to give the provinces a greater say in Equestrian Government. Seats are allocated to noble peers, and to elected representatives of the cities and counties. The peerage seats are divided between those who earned a seat by lineage, such as those of the Great Houses, and those elected by their fellow peers. The Stable is divided into fluid groups, known as the Government, the Opposition and the Independents. In reality, the Stable is merely a rubber stamp for the Government, exploiting a fractured opposition and consistently pettifogging independents.” “Incorrect. Correct literally, but not in practice. The Stable is the grandest theatre by which the Equestrian nobility plays their parts. Courts may be called and dismissed at will, for the Principal Dignity at the head has authority over all they survey. Yet in the Stable, where the voice of the country is heard, deeds are forever, and deeds cannot be stopped. Only the battlefield shares such dignity, yet it is an infinitely more reprehensible place. Now, why is it important?” Blueblood had learnt that distinguishing between his father’s rhetorical and non-rhetorical questions to be beneficial to the state of his epidermal tissue. He supposed it was practice for future service as Prince of the Unicorns, as his elders would clearly have more practice in the matter than he. Either way, this was a rhetorical question, so Blueblood merely matched his father’s gaze, unblinking while cultivating a posture which could not be taken as bored or inattentive. “Affairs of Court may not reach the provinces, but affairs in the Stable may. And the commoners pay more attention to the latter. Canterlot is the heart of Equestria, if not the world. What happens here will echo down the ages, ever since it was founded Princess Platinum, Chancellor Puddinghead and Commander Hurricane after the Treaty of Hearth’s Warming Eve, as we now call it. Therefore, never let your weaknesses be seen there. Exploit your emotions, if it can have results. Otherwise, the greatest failure you may achieve in the Stable is some breakdown of emotion.” He paused, before continuing in measured, cool tones as if dictating to a child of even younger years. “Remember this: they who rule Canterlot, rule Equestria.” HRH The Prince of Unicorns paused. After a while, he drew himself up even further, paced forwards with lock step and stared down his son with the iron gaze of a senior officer – nay, a Prince of the Realm and of the Blood – upon an undeserving underling. “What do we say to that, colt?” The reply was near-instantaneous. Not instantaneous, or that would have showed eagerness – emotion – which would have been contrary to instruction. A perfect image of princely nobility, a mask of cool, Platinum indifference, honed and tempered. “So we maintain.” Considering his state, Blueblood had decided not to call the Council for an emergency meeting immediately after the meeting with Rarity. For one, there was little he could do about it. Secondly, he was pretty sure that the unicorn would be as vague and deflective as possible on the matter unless it was discussed to a wider audience. Thirdly, the Stable would be meeting soon and there was no way he was going into it tired, emotional, ‘tired and emotional’ or actually tired and emotional. Fourthly, he had been in a relatively decent good mood after meeting with Armor earlier, and had hoped that this would return. Finally, the last thing he wanted to do was to go running for the blue-coated spook who ran Equestrian Intelligence and ask her why he hadn’t been informed of this development. He had the Platinum Knights there watching the spooks potter around investigating, but his Knights weren’t spooks by nature. It might give her ideas above her station… There was also the matter of a raging headache and various pains and aches that were starting to emerge throughout his body, and an increasing desire to get enough sleep before the Stable met. One duty still remained that day, though, and Blueblood had hoped to get a drink before he did it. Rarity had scrapped the chances of that. "A very good evening, Lord Withers!" "Get on with it, Blueblood, I haven't the time for this crass procrastination," came the brusque reply. Dignified Mark, Lord Withers. Dignified enough in the Stable, desperately trying to make a mark and failing to do so. Short-tempered and impatient when caught unprepared. A delicate case, a unicorn he could afford to isolate, but Blueblood had long learnt not to rely on best-case scenarios. Besides, what he was going to tell him had aligned with his own interests and it wasn’t as if there was any major harm in doing so. If anything, it was better to send the rumour mill going by his own input before anyone else did. The more support in the Stable coming up, then the better. That meant more initial momentum, and momentum ran both politics and the bureaucracy. An optimal case scenario required the most experienced of the Council to deal with Withers, which meant him. The jumpy, slightly inebriated conservative will do for Withers, I think. "Shining Armor's being jumpy. Need to take him down a notch." "Oh?" Before he spoke his next words Blueblood had a certain feeling in his gut that talking with Withers on this day may not have been the most prudent of choices. However, there was no going back, nor was there any reason why he should have cancelled it beforehand. Three days ago he could not have even anticipated the day occurring as it had. "You know what I'm like, my lord. Celestia doesn't have any respect for the old ways, not anymore. Thought Princess Luna would do something about it, but no. No dignity, no common respect for tradition, for the thousands who have laid their lives down so that Equestria may persevere and live? Council's stacked, damnably stacked, and they want big change, as you've guessed. Sparkle was the worst straw - the most gifted and noted unicorn of our generation turned into an alicorn!" The moment he had finished rambling Blueblood kicked himself mentally. Princesses, Blueblood, restrain yourself. All that alcohol you’ve drunk in the past few days and stress is getting to you. You’re losing your touch. Cut the emotion, cut the exaggeration, or he’ll get scared. "Hmm." "However, Withers, the Princesses are temporarily indisposed for now," loosely commented Blueblood as he gave the illusion of chugging down a glass of wine. The sniff of the alcohol almost unbridled the Prince, but reflexes kicked in and he succeeded in only feigning the motion. "And?" "I can knock Armor for six if you'd give me the support I want." "And how would you do that?" "You're an intelligent stallion, Withers. Surely you don't need me to tell you?" A slight bit of slurring to push it in further. "Humour me, Blueblood, and perhaps I'll give you those MESPs. Be quick about it, and perhaps you'll get something else on the side." "I'll kick Armor down to some dull committee job, Bloom up to the C. E., Argent to the Stable and we'd have it. Armor can then be cut off and Bloom won't be able to do shit in some flank-end province. As for Argent, well, you don’t need me to tell you how he’d do without support." It was all true, technically, with a liberal use of words Blueblood did not find entirely too concerned to employ. It would all be in public by now as well, so the more squabbling and uncertainty the political classes engaged themselves in, the better. "You think the Princesses would let the Old Boys have a stranglehold over the Council and the Stable?" sceptically questioned Withers. "Heck, even Armor's not that dumb. Bloom definitely isn't: that bloody mare will realise what you're doing and chafe every inch of the way." Now, time to give him some vigour, time to strike. "Can't do bugger all about it!" triumphantly announced Blueblood. "Even if those lowborn peons get it, there's nothing they can do! The Princesses are out of it: Now's our chance, and we have to take it! They can just about move the Sun and Moon when working together, so what can they do to stop us?" He leaned over and whispered conspiratorially. "Between you and me, they can't even comprehend the day of the week sometimes, let alone employ any of the higher functions. But we'll have to work fast, and quietly. It'll just be a game of... what is it the peasants play? 'Musical Chairs.'" The easy confidence and blasé charisma seemed to wear off on the other unicorn. "Very well. With you for now, Blueblood, but you had better not waste this." Finally got you, Withers. Always let your emotions get ahead of you, don’t you? Now, now, old boy, I’m sure we’ll get some work done, don’t you worry. "Don't intend to, Withers. Don't intend to." Blueblood made a mental note to revert to excessive tea consumption. He was losing touch, and it was disconcerting. Rarity’s matter was brought up the next morning, predictably enough, by that blue-coated spook, Moonstone Shield. Blueblood’s first realisation that the spook had been caught off-guard by the development as when she addressed the Council on the daily report regarding the Princesses’ circumstances. She paused on finishing her initial spiel, her face twisting, her dark blue eyes inching slightly from side to side in mild confusion. "We have found... something important amongst Princess Cadance's effects - something perhaps important to Equestria, but not a significant help with regards to finding the Princesses again; the magic seal is rather recent." With some reluctance. She pulled a note from within her uniform jacket and passed it to Blueblood. Oh great… Blueblood took the note, examining the wax seal which he recognised as being a combination of Celestia's and Cadance's. Opened but resealed again with wax. There was something off about the magic seal, too. Cadance's was the first layer, but the second... It had been sealed by magic before his sister had added to it - definitely Celestia's magic, I could recognise it anywhere. Breaking the seal, he skimmed over the text. What. So that’s what Rarity was talking about… Well, that’s my day ruined. He looked up from the paper, back at Moonstone, back at the paper and straight at Shining Armor. The note was passed again, from Blueblood to Shining Armor wordlessly. "Uhh. Yeah. I was in the Crystal Empire during that time…? Well Cadance might have mentioned it to me once, I think...? It's... somewhere? I imagine it'll be in one of the most secure vaults, or something. Surprised you didn't know, honestly." The note was passed back. Blueblood wasn’t entirely sure why he was panicking somewhat. Economic hiccups were infuriatingly frequent; the major concern was the hiccup developing into a full-blown infection. After all, the economy had taken a bit of a hit after the Crystal Empire situation was resolved, due to uncertainty over how the Government would resolve the situation and the fear that the precious gem market would become flooded. Perhaps it was because this situation was in his backyard. Literally, in fact. Technically, Ponyville was within the Duchy of Canterlot. Princesses-know how many tons of GOLD?! Gold that was made in the fallout of some crazed mare employing dark magic? Damage to the environment, roads need to be redone? A particular phrase stood out amongst the elegant calligraphy. "Please don't tell BB, or he’ll go mad." Oh, thank you, sister dearest. I love you, you know. Just not as a Governmental colleague. Mad? Where’d you get that from? It isn’t as if you and the other Princesses have oft-conspired to leave me in the dark until you need me to take the fall for something. "Argent. As I recall, you complained to me about having to repave some roads a few months ago?" The pegasus in question jumped slightly, confounded by a question that came out of nowhere. "I’m sorry, Blueblood? Complain? Oh, I do recall approaching you about two months ago on a matter. Princess Luna asked me to supervise the repaving of the Royal Highway to Ponyville. Utterly confounding request, damnable timing too, considering it had been done but two months prior..." “According to this note,” Blueblood announced to the Council, lifting the offending article into the air while attempting to suppress a smirk, “a certain mare used dark magic in Ponyville, with the effect of transmuting many things, including the roads, into gold. It also mentions a large number of gems, as well. It turns out that this solution was resolved by use of alicorn magic, and said offending articles now populate two of our vaults.” From a purely political perspective, it allows me to get rid of the Element of Generosity and replace her with a pony more suitable… or with Princess Twilight, and leave it vacant. However, that much gold - if any word of it gets out - well... There goes the value of gold, and inflation beckons… Knowing my luck, the Griffons would probably demand the rights to build a railway across the Northern Colonies for whatever use that would be. As the Council devolved into chatter over whose department’s fault it was, Blueblood grasped the mug of tea positioned before him and made an effort to inconspicuously drink as much of the lukewarm but extremely strong liquid as he could. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a grin begin to develop across the face of the Captain of the Guard, and Shining Armor soon visibly attempted to suppress a laugh. Thanks, Cadance's husband. But remember, Armor: you're in this pan fire with me. The Equestrian economy was a fragile beast. It had to be, as earth ponies and unicorns were fully capable of wrecking the value of goods in a single day's outing. The Honourable and Celestial Bank of Equestria, therefore, had a rather strenuous job in keeping exchange rates at a suitable level and at regulating the monetary supply. That, at least, was what his tutors had told him when he was young. The House of Platinum was never short of money, and Blueblood had promptly given it little thought. There were subordinates for that, and if they didn't do the job, Celestia would. Economics was never his strong point, but he damn well knew he would have to binge cram in the following days. To be frank, hardly anypony gave second thoughts about money, and only a few were really involved in trade with foreign nations. Equestria had plenty of gold. An excess, now, to be frank. And it wouldn't do if the public or if foreign powers found out about it. Despite Equestria being largely self-reliant, it would not do to isolate or irritate foreign powers. After all, she couldn't really defend itself militarily now. It was convenient that the Princesses had decided to do something about it. It was less convenient that they had not deigned to tell him, or, for that matter, anypony else in the Council. It was even less convenient that they had not used their alicorn magic or general magical talents to get rid of the bloody gold or at least turn it into something which was perishable or less likely to make an impact, since if they’d broken international treaties once, they might as well break it twice or three times in the same day. Then again, Blueblood reflected as he stared into his now-empty mug of tea, he wasn’t in that much of a position to complain, considering how little he let on to both his subordinates and his superiors. Of course, had this eventually come to light, in say, a year, and if the Princesses were still here, this would have been Princess Twilight’s business and my not being informed would not matter as I could sit in Canterlot dealing with- oh wait. That accursed bill was being brought up again by his traitorous mental processes and threatening to make his impending headache worse. Why on Equestria didn’t you tell me, Cadance?! If I’m going to have to clean it up eventually, then you could at least have told me! Well, I guess I have a target for my bile. Blueblood slowly turned towards Rarity. The other councillors followed suit. The unicorn in question had wisely chosen to sit in her seat without protest, resolving to pout with her front legs folded in resentment. "What?" "Tell me, my lady,” Blueblood asked with as much force he could muster, “have you ever experimented with dark magic?" Rarity’s blue eyes darted around before offering a vaguely committal noise. If you want to get out of this vaguely intact, then you’ll follow me, or I’ll throw you out for the Press to deal with… “Apparently, Right Honourable Members of the Royal Council, the Element of Generosity was involved in an incident with dark magic, resulting in large sums of gold and gemstones finding their way into the Royal Treasury by way of alicorn magic. Said incident was in full sight of the population of Ponyville and said precious metals and stones are not recorded on Governmental records.” Blueblood spoke with clinical tones, the false propriety of a Canterlot prosecutor. At the very least, the unicorn in the dock had the common decency to look embarrassed and regretful at the issue. You couldn't turn it into brass, could you?! It had to be gold, oh yes! Gold! One more day, one more disaster. Clean-up for Prince Blueblood. “So what do we do,” he sighed, giving up the pretence as the increased weight of his burden dawned further on him. Normally he would allow one of the other councillors to bring this up, but with an empty mug of tea and a brain awash with confusion he wasn’t exactly prepared to wait for longer than he needed to. “If any word of this gets out, we may-“ Serene interrupted, golden curls swinging as she took up the mantle of Lady High Chancellor and turned to the head of the table. “It will only become a major problem if it enters general circulation.” “Like poison!” offered Argent. “A sudden influx of this magnitude is not fundamentally beneficial, even if it covers the expenses we spent on dealing with the situation initially.” “It’s only a problem if any of it gets out, Blueblood,” Serene continued, both front legs on the table to portray an image of perfect confidence in an effort to calm him down. “It has been sitting there for months, and apparently nopony knows better. It will only cause inflation if it enters circulation, and will only result in hyperinflation if we use all of it at once. And so long as nopony knows about it, it’ll be fine.” Blueblood paused, before pushing himself off his chair and started to pace. That helped. It always helped, and the councillors learnt to shut up when he did so. “If we started acting like we had more gold than which we actually ‘had’, without increasing borrowing, it would look suspicious. And somehow, I’m not prepared to hedge Equestria’s economic future on assuming that ‘nopony knows better’.” He paused by the window, glancing out of it in no particular direction whatsoever, and stayed there. To whom does the fault lie? An exercise in blaming. An exercise in politics, perhaps? Yet without recognition of fault, then there shall be no improvement, no betterment of oneself for the sake of all ponykind. Was it Rarity, whose greed created the gold in the first place? Was it whoever gave her the book, who enabled her to do so? Was it whoever who wrote that book in the first place, who allowed all of this to happen in the first place? Was it Princess Twilight, who failed to rein in her friend? Was it the other Princesses, who failed to foresee this in time? Was it I? And if it was, by what way? Failure to gain their confidence, such that this could be stopped before it occurred? Failure to cut down on the sources of illicit literature? Or was it failure to move around their orders, and act as Equestria needed in the first place, for whatever purpose that was? No, it is none of those things. I am an officer, a bureaucrat, a politician. I would be a proper officer, a civil servant, a statespony. Interesting how these at their very worst are unfailing in their opposition of change. But change of what? Change in Equestria, or in myself? Which do I fear most? After a minute, the silence was broken before Blueblood managed to compose his thoughts. “We should move a brigade to Ponyville immediately,” said Thunderclap and Moonstone in unison. Thunderclap glanced at the Director, ground his teeth, and ceded the field. Glancing at the General warily, Moonstone continued. “Despite it aligning with our initial intentions, it should also be worth mentioning that as a noted crossroads the firmer the grasp we have upon communications in and out of Ponyville, the better.” “Wasn’t this illegal, anyway?” intruded Raven, nervously looking over the rims of her glasses with one hoof on the table and one on her hip. “Under the Dark Magic Act of 1203, Currency Act of 1592 and the Precious-” “Precious Metals Act of 1601, clause II, as I recall correctly, and all successive Acts of the above,” stated Blueblood, almost out of reflex. “‘It is an offence to transmute base metals into precious metals, regardless of quality or method or purpose. This offence shall be considered of similar severity to that of forgery or counterfeit, and shall be enforced as such.’ It is, in great likelihood, additionally an offense under a number of multilateral treaties, including the Treaty of Boreas, applicable to all Griffon states, and the Writs of Dromedor, applicable to the Camels. It is an offense of significant magnitude that if the International Community learns of such an event, they will almost certainly demand action. Either way, the event in question involves the debasing of the national precious metal and precious stone supplies, and by extension, the International Market. Yes, Raven, I do believe you are correct in stating that. It is illegal on multiple charges.” Encyclopaedic knowledge of mercantile law. The Princesses couldn’t have picked a better pony to teach – no, refresh – Princess Twilight on the finer aspects of governance. Not so different than when we were younger, I suppose… Transmuting materials into gold was illegal. It was, after all, introducing 'impure' noble metals into the market, reduced confidence, and had the possibility of diluting the monetary supply akin to forgery, as well as giving magic-using populations an allegedly 'unfair' advantage. Equestria, being a land where magic may be used at will to affect the price of commodities, became one where the economy must be maintained by understandings between Their Celestial Highnesses’ Government, financial leaders and the heads of industry. The price of gems was largely set due to their quality, and certain gems given more value due to their degree of impurity (or lack of). The gold supply was maintained at a suitable level. As home to some of the largest gold mines in the world Equestria’s Bits, the ‘Golden Cavalry of Celestia’, became the most influential currency in the world. The tacit understanding was that the value of the Bit was maintained at a level such that Equestria could remain in a place where it could influence the economies of other nations (and their governments) with relative ease. The tactic understanding with other nations was that Equestria would do nothing to disrupt their economy and currency to have a knock-on effect on them or to elevate Equestria to an even higher position of influence over them. Blueblood couldn't quite recall the threatened international punishment for such a violation of international agreements, but it probably involved embargoes. Out of his eye, Blueblood saw Rarity turn a slightly green colour, but he ignored it. Deserves it really. Had to make perfect gems, at that. “We cannot ignore this. Increased spending ability, especially in a crisis like this, is a massive boon,” Blueblood spoke, mostly to himself. “Either way, ponies will eventually ask where the money came from, and the last thing we should do is admit that the Element of Generosity used dark magic. That’s the last thing we should do.” “We could fudge the books?” offered Argent. “Rather hard to fudge the books when there’s so much gold sitting around. We’d have to fudge a lot of books, and that could arouse suspicion as well.” “Due to the way this was previously handled, we may be living on borrowed time concerning this. All it takes is a slip of the tongue for this to get out. Moonstone, how far can you trust our dragons in the Dragon Council?” “As far as I can spit, really, but I trust my operatives absolutely.” “Pay a few Dragons off a bit more than usual. We’ll send a brigade to Ponyville to lock it down, but also go rooting around in the Everfree for any bandit dragon nests. The Dragon Council won’t care about them, especially if we grease them a bit, so we’ll deal with them and take their hauls. I should not need to mention that we do not specify how much we managed to recover, the Guard isn’t the most literate of organizations and if anypony asks where we’d been getting all the money to finance everything from, we shall direct them towards our efforts to reclaim Equestrian bullion from vagrant dragon bandits in the Everfree. We haven’t made any money, we have merely regained it. While we’re at it, we’ll get the banks – well, Fancypants - to pull more Bits in whilst selling some more bonds and call some debts in. In any case, make sure the new Minotaur Archon meets with me ASAP once he’s been confirmed." There were two reasons why Equestrian Bits were called the ‘Golden Cavalry of Celestia’. The first was that there was a rampant pony on each coin. The second was that their liberal application and the correct words in the correct ears were a far better guarantor of Equestrian foreign relations than any amount of hoofs in the Guard. With a Princess around, those coins were backed by much more than Equestria’s economic, industrial and questionable conventional military might. “Will he not take offence? I’m sure he’d expect to meet with a Princess, instead.” I don’t know, perhaps the Princesses would ruin his day like mine’s… “Let’s hope he doesn’t,” breathed Blueblood. “Inkwell.” “Oh, morning, sir. Tea will be ready in a minute. How was the Council meeting?” Aside from the revelation about Equestria’s gold supplies on account of the Element of Generosity’s greed, it hadn’t been too bad otherwise. An ancient terror had yet to appear, which had perplexed Blueblood, but he hadn’t seen fit to mention it to anyone. The last time he had tried to express such opinions – mere days earlier, while under the influence, to Shining Armor – had not gone so well. But at least the Princesses had done something, as little as it was, to deal with the situation and Blueblood had an inkling in how to deal with it. Twilight – well, recollections of Princess Twilight – had been partially responsible putting the idea in his head, which had been furthered when he had, almost unconsciously, fished out an old picture which Cadance had insisted on being taken for some insipid reason or another. One of Celestia’s private drawing rooms, a beaming pink alicorn, horn glowing with magic, a smiling purple unicorn and a weakly-discomfited white unicorn. Books everywhere, many of them opened or bookmarked. That had been years ago, back when they were nei- back when they lived in convenient proximity to each other resulting in some degree of familiarity. With some emotion – Blueblood couldn’t entirely tell what it was – he carefully returned the picture to its place in a sealed box, protective cover on, placed the box in a compartment under his bed and firmly pushed the compartment shut and locked it with some severity. He’d composed himself by the time Inkwell had shown up. “Fine, fine, and thank you. Inkwell, I have a stack of mail I need sent as soon as possible. See that it is done today.” “Of course, sir.” “Today, Inkwell,” Blueblood firmly stressed. “The Stable is coming up soon, and I need to be ready. Make sure that tea is ready. I have several hours until I next have an occupied slot in my schedule, and I shall require a cup of tea on the hour until then.” He had some time, Blueblood reflected. It may be prudent to engage in some productive behaviour, even if other ponies elsewhere were not. Among Blueblood’s stack of letters there was one, inordinately heavy, aged and rather abused scroll, sealed with Blueblood’s seal, which was destined by the way Blueblood had arranged it, to be lost in the Canterlotian bureaucracy. Another, relatively inconspicuous letter was addressed to the secretary of what was a dummy company in San Franciscolt, in the hooves of which it eventually arrived having spent about a week and a half lost in transit in the Equestrian Civil Service’s morass due to incorrect labelling and stampings. It would then be forwarded to a holding company in Buckingham before making its slow way to the wife of the Assistant Secretary of the Equestrian Ambassador to the Dragon Council. From there it would find its way into the claws of a leading magnate in the Dragon Council, who had once met a certain blonde-maned, white-coated colt in Canterlot over ten years ago. "If the Colonel says you're mad, never mind, If the Colonel says you're mad, never mind; As the Ursas eat your legs He still can't find his own head - If the Colonel says you're mad, never mind!" "SHUT UP! I heard that!" Despicable lot. Colonel Charge scowled at the awkwardly shuffling squad of Guardsponies before him and silently ordered them to piss off. Without further encouragement, the Guardsponies mumbled apologies and then marched perfectly away towards the mass of tents and ramshackle fortifications erected beside the new - and missing - Princess' new - and garish - home. Their rather red-faced Lieutenant - a young, headstrong arse - came up to the Colonel. "Sorry about the lads, sir," greeted the Lieutenant. "Well, enough of that. Anything to report, Lieutenant?" "Nothing, sir," breathed the younger officer. "Did run into a cockatrice or two, though." "And?" "We lazored them, sir. No casualties, sir." "Oh?" P'rhaps the colts aren't that awful after all. "I ordered two of my unicorn Guardsponies to terminate the cockatrices with extreme prejudice through the employment of high-energy magical beam attacks, sir," the Lieutenant immediately deadpanned derisorily. Alright, they’re young and head-strong. "DON'T GET SMART WITH ME, LIEUTENANT! I made you a Lieutenant, and I can break you back down to Ensign if I feel like it!" "Sorry, sir. Nothing else to report, sir. Here's the charts we made, though." The Lieutenant pulled a number of large paper scrolls from his saddlebags and offered them to his commanding officer. "Right. Report to me in full later, Lieutenant," acknowledged the Colonel. The Lieutenant snapped a smart salute. "Go away, Lieutenant." Returning to the gemstone-encrusted blemish on the countryside that was his Headquarters, Colonel Charge cautiously made his way towards his personal quarters, passing through corridors and chambers which he had concluded were the product of a particularly drug-infested low-scoring university student who had gotten his place through nepotism. Not that he would say it to anypony's face - well, anypony of importance - anytime soon, not at all. Working conditions, eh, Onyx? Should have become a stockbroker or something... Or a demolition pony. "Transferrable skills" and all that. Pushing the rather heavy-set door open, he placed the charts on a side table. Moving to sit down behind a hastily-erected and flimsy desk, the Colonel reflected upon the past twenty-four hours as he sipped from a steaming steel mug of tea which had been placed upon his desk. It could have been worse, truth be told. If there was one thing to be grateful for, Colonel Charge remised, it was that nopony had yet decided to take legal action against his troops. He'd forced his way into Mayor Mare's office with his variously-intoxicated command staff and curtly given her the crudely-written Royal Warrant-thing which he had been provided with before pissing off to his incandescent Headquarters, only to be informed by a different red-faced Lieutenant as he left the town hall that the 64th Independent Pegasus Company was "stuck in transit" and thus could not arrive in time to provide air support or reconnaissance for two days. 'Stuck in transit', scoffed Charge silently. Stuck in transit in Cloudsdale, more like. And yet, there were no casualties. On my part... Solars 2, Everfree 0! Solars 2, Lunies, 1057. Then there was the fact that his morning, aside from the irresponsible marching-songs of his troops, was going rather well. He had slept surprisingly comfortably, and before him sat a nice, hot mug of tea. Small things, but they added up. The Colonel was broken from his musings by the sudden and loud entry of a Guard officer. "Sorry, sir!" yelled the russet-maned Guard as he tumbled through the doorway, his insignia denoting him as a Major. He snapped a solid salute before continuing. "'Still not used to these blasted crystal doors, sir." "What is it, Major?" dully questioned Charge. "Sir, we've received a complaint." Oh Princesses... Colonel Charge looked up at the Major before him, who was fussing over the straps on his rather heavy armour. Unimpressed, the Colonel addressed his subordinate. "Major Drumbeat. I have slept surprisingly well last night, and my bat-pony has seemingly achieved enlightenment this morning. It is ten o' clock, and he has managed, with arcane sorceries, to fabricate this mug of hot beverage." He gestured to the tea-containing vessel before him. "I found earlier, to my immense surprise, that the beverage in this receptacle is indeed tea, and is not only hot, but is also completely devoid of sand, dirt, gunpowder or indeed, contaminated water" He fixed an unimpressed, yet stern stare upon the Major. "Major Drumbeat, you're gonna walk straight out of that door," he said as he pointed at the gaudy entrance to his quarters, "and close it behind you. You are then going to wait and consider your options for two seconds, before turning about and re-entering." "Yes, sir. Of course, sir." Major Drumbeat followed his orders, and was soon back in the same spot. "Well, Major?" "Sir, we've received a complaint," repeated Drumbeat, though with a fake grin plastered across his face that could only be described as being 'shit-eating'. Bloody Guard, don't know what it's coming to. The Major thankfully relaxed his cheek muscles and pulled a sheaf of papers out of his saddlebags and squinted at the text on them. "Fellow by the name of Heartstrings. Iyra Heartstrings." Iyra? Stupid name, but I've heard worse. Stupid people who soared to the top of the career ladder and marked their territory by giving their foals stupid names. Amazing how people with nonexistent IQs and venereal diseases can make it up to the top of the 'greasy pole'. Greasy pole up their own flanks, to be frank. "So-" "Hang on-. Sorry, sir, Lyra Heartstrings. Miss. Female." "Major, what has... 'it'... said to cause your being here?" "Nothing of note, really. Offended that we're here, property damage, wanted to know why, et cetera." So what are you doing here, you flankhole? Celestia's Sacred Cake... "So why did you-" "If you'd excuse me, sir, I was about to get onto that," interrupted Major Drumbeat. "I've had the lads combing through the local archives for maps, charts or records of the Everfree Forest, as you ordered me to do, sir. It appears that there are very few resources in this department. Apparently, most of the more detailed and useful maps of the Forest were stored in Golden Oak Library, sir." "In other words, Major, you're saying that the maps were incinerated by Tirek." "That would be a correct assumption, sir.” “Is that all, Havoc?” “Oh, sir, the Second Regiment of Marines is on the way from Foalpoint. Brass just telegraphed in, wants us to go looking for dragon nests in the Everfree. Second Marines will be under your command when they get here." Colonel Charge rubbed at his forehead. There was definitely something he could do with, but he couldn't place his hoof on the word... "...Hallucinogens..." "What was that, sir?" Retire and be damned, Onyx. Find a job as an executive of a nail company or something, and let some other idiot take this job. "Inform High Command of this development on our side. And go away, Major." "Very well, sir," came the inevitable response, accompanied by a smart, precise salute. "Go. Away." A day later, Blueblood contemplated the earth pony before him. As to be expected, the pony wore the uniform of the Royal Equestrian Navy with the necessary lace and gilt that denoted a Full Admiral, whilst boasting the diffident yet bored half-sneer which the vast majority of the portraits lining the walls of the Admiralty possessed. Confused about his position and the position of his ponies, like the rest of the Navy. The other half was, as to expected, comprised of urgency and exasperation; two qualities which perhaps defined the Navy in its current state. Lord Tidal Force was unimpressive. Decently built but not bulging with muscle, taller than average but slightly so. On a normal distribution graph Tidal Force would occupy the portion slightly to the right of the bell, just after the curve started to form the edges of the bell. Taking error into account, Tidal Force was therefore nothing to raise eyebrows at. Not compared to the glorious Princesses, not to the vaunted Shining Armor, the ordinary pony who stood up to King Sombra and lived, not to the vaunted Augustus Thunderclap, winner of the Equestrian Star. Nonetheless, Tidal Force was the highest-ranking actively-serving Naval Officer in the realm. A pony more suited to convoy charts and timetables than a great throw of the dice in decisive battle. Blueblood did not particularly blame him. Tidal Force was in a situation that some would consider to be highly uncomfortable. His ascent had been largely out of his control, being a pony who had achieved high status through curious fortune. Tidal Force had made it to Admiral due to a complete lack of competition, partially due to said competition being forced to drop out. Acutely aware of his fortune, Tidal Force's mannerisms did indicate awkwardness and embarrassment on his own part. That was not awkwardness brought about by the recognition that one’s sibling was one’s superior, however. With his coat a shade of muted buff that could only be described as being rather tired, and a closely-cut yet slightly ragged mane of gunmetal grey, the Admiral did not stand out. Dressed in a badly-fitting and faded navy officer's tunic and a black covered bicorne on his head, the uniform he wore did not significantly amplify his image either. Taking a sip of tea out of a beaten old Guard tin mug, Blueblood matched eyes with the Admiral. Force was an average pony. "Determined and competent. Steadfast. Micromanager and obsessive to a fault; paranoid about the state of his ponies - questionable judgement on the offensive," some retired fossil had written in Force's files. It reminded Blueblood of a few ponies he knew, but it was not a recipe for naval genius. Aggression and technological expertise were, and Force was not too well-endowed in those departments. He’d come up through Personnel, for crying out loud. Not Navigation, not Engineering, not Gunnery, not Torpedoes, but Personnel. I suppose it would have been expected for the second child of a Great House, after all… There were rumours that he had been up for a viscountcy for smashing a surprisingly large and cohesive bunch of pirates and smugglers, but that had gone nowhere. The Navy hardly saw any proper action at all, so Force's questionable successes in the various war games may have been overemphasised considering this. It was better to be safe than sorry. He was an earth pony, at least, which was beneficial to the unicorn-dominated Royal Council. But most importantly, by giving the Navy an independent seat once more, whether or not Force sat on the Council, he could shift its workload from Argent and Thunderclap, who could concentrate upon their new responsibilities. "Let's get to business, shall we, Admiral?" "That would be appreciated, sir." "Good, good. Take a seat, then." Taking the seat on the other side of the desk, the Admiral awkwardly shuffled himself onto the seat and removed his bicorne, placing the hat on his lap. "I presume you were informed of our current circumstances by a suitable authority?" "Yes, sir. Augustus Thunderclap was kind enough apprise me of the situation on my arrival here, though I was fortunate enough to have my sister briefly notify myself last night. I have my concerns, but am confident that your strong and capable leadership will carry us through this turbulence." "Yes, yes. I regret not informing yourself at an earlier date, but unfortunately I have been most pressed for time as of late. What I am about to say will, in all happenstance, not alleviate your concerns. Put it simply, Force, I will require a new Lord High Admiral. With the Royal Council taking up increased responsibilities in consideration of the state of the Princesses, it is my opinion that the Navy receive its own seat at the Council. As the most senior officer of that branch I therefore offer you the title and position of Lord High Admiral and the duties and responsibilities of said office." "A suggestion, if I may, sir?" "What?" "I... I would be uncomfortable taking up the post of Lord High Admiral, sir." Well this is news... "Why?" Force shuffled nervously before steeling himself and looking Blueblood in the eye. "I… I’m not entirely sure the Navy, as it is now, is not worthy of such an honour." Well that was completely unexpected. A momentary look of mild shock combined with confusion passed across Blueblood’s face, to be met with a more permanent look of cautious unease across Force’s face "That is not a proper argument, Admiral Force," replied Blueblood in hard tones as he recovered, pushing a golden lock out of the way. "The state of the Navy should not affect its role in the Equestrian Government whilst it remains a vital arm of the state." "I disagree, sir. But there are other considerations. It would place the Guards and the Navy on a par." Before Blueblood had been forced to fully take up the mantle of the Prince of the Unicorns at the tender age of thirteen, he had aspirations for military service. This he did indeed do, serving in the Platinum Knights (and still holding a commission in that regiment). However, like his father, he had interest in the Navy and had contested the largely-administrative rank of Admiral (in an attempt, however misguided, to get the chair of Lord High Admiral so he could contest Shining Armor on military matters), which by some loophole did not require actual naval service, only a theoretical examination. Which was good, because aside from that pirate action the Navy hardly did anything and the number of actively-serving officers involved could not fill a sheet of paper in the largest fonts the Civil Service’s bureaucracy used. A strong affection for the Navy still remained in Blueblood’s heart – for what reasons, he could not properly articulate, but they probably involved some measure of romanticism, megalomania and technical curiosity – but a placid Navy under a placid head was not what he needed nor desired. "The office of Lord High Admiral is below that of Lord High Marshal. Shining Armor would still be your superior." "I must disagree again, sir. Staff would take it as a slight regardless; as it is, the Navy must remain a branch of the Guards as the regulars and the militia are too. A separate department, perhaps, but Staff would never tolerate it, and you know this, sir.” Oh great… Frankly, I’m going to stick a poker up the flanks of the Staff anyway, so we might as well make the Navy more independent. A Navy subordinate to the Guards hasn’t really done anything for the country, after all. Despite promising efforts to further Navy-Guard cooperation, these had never gotten anywhere. Partly out of the elitism of the Guard, partly out of the lack of money to support naval operations. "So what do you propose, Admiral Force? I never took you one to argue about the meaning of words." "First Sea Lord, or First Lord of the Admiralty perhaps?" "There's only one Admiral, Force, and that's you, if you haven't forgotten." "I can't believe we're doing this," muttered Blueblood under his breath. He had expected resistance, but not this. Then again, Force was notorious for being an incessant nitpicker at times. "It's clunky. The other, traditional offices start with 'Lord'," protested Blueblood ineffectively. "'Lady High Chancellor' is clunky, sir," replied Force rather pointlessly. She’s also your sister, have you taken that up with her yet? "This is pointless, anyway," finalised Blueblood. "I intend to beat the Guard Staff into line, regardless of branch, and I have the full support of Armor and Thunderclap. We'll clarify seniority at a later date, or perhaps not. It might even be better if we didn't." "Uh, suit yourself, sir." Oh thank you, Your Royal Highness... "Now, Force, are you going to answer my original question and take up the post?" "In spirit, that I will, sir." "Good. Now I need First Battle Squadron and the Canterlot Escort Squadrons ready in two days. I need First Reserves working up, too. Go." "My good fellow, I'm glad that you were able to meet me here at such short notice." It was to Blueblood’s relative distaste that he was meeting with an earth pony, an MESP at that, in a booth in a small café in a quiet corner of Canterlot’s middle town. It had been four days since the Princesses had disappeared, three since the meeting of the Stable had been announced and two days until the Stable actually met. The meeting with Force had left him in an ill humour, which would have been relieved by a meeting with Charter Winthrop, Viscount Winthrop, a civil servant who also happened to hold a seat in the Stable and who was actually vaguely decent company, to take place after this. Unfortunately, Armor had insisted on yet another meeting over “logistical issues” despite requiring Blueblood’s attention for the remainder of the previous day, meaning that the meetings with Mill and Winthrop had to be delayed slightly. Blueblood had made an effort to connect further with Armor, but still held that the Captain of the Guard wasn’t the brightest sock in the drawer on distressingly many matters. Winthrop would probably not take offence, but Mill would. Princesses, Twilight – Princess Twilight – would make a better Captain of the Guard than him at times… She has more combat experience, too. Heck, Cadance would do a better job sometimes. "Well, I’m here." Steel Mill and his two brothers were the heirs to one of Equestria's largest industrial fortunes. Unfortunately, Steel Mill was not as capable as his ailing father, and had fallen in league with Reticent Uprush's group of independent ethically-questionable Manehattanite robber barons along with the rest of the Fillydelphia region MESPs. His brothers were back in Fillydelphia, doing Celestia-knows what with their father’s business. Mill was unreliable, therefore, and it was never a good thing to allow resistance to agglomerate in the Stable. It was never a good thing to have a decent steel company go bust or upside down, either. None of these things helped alleviate his increasingly-foul mood. "As you know, the Stable will meet tomorrow, and I'd like a favourable reception, to say the least. With the Princesses sadly out of it, now's not the time for petty disputes. It'll be a special seating, so some of the more undesirable elements may find themselves administratively displaced. As it is, cooperation on your part would be greatly appreciated when the Stable meets again." "And why would I do that?" "I would be more personally inclined towards your opinion in the future, Mill. From my recollections of the Council I also believe that the Prince of the Crystal Empire is intent on laying more track. The contraction of such a matter would not be too difficult to procure.” "What are you suggesting, my Prince?" Come on, I don’t have time for this. "You know damn well what I'm suggesting." "And why should we agree?" "I believe..." said Blueblood as he pulled out his notebook and started flicking through it, "that I have a scheduled meeting with your father very soon, when the Equestrian Steel Conference comes up. Perhaps I ought to apprise him of your nocturnal encounters, hmm? Awfully risqué, even by my own low, low standards." "What is this?" It’s me putting the stick about. And Celestia, has it been too long… "Mill," stated Blueblood as he stood. Placing his notebook back inside his jacket, he continued. "Consider it a warning; it would be better if you followed those with your best interests in mind. Uprush, after all, has backstabbed his way up the greasy pole, and would do it to you three without a second thought. I have not, unlike him and his ilk. But I'll leave it up to you and your fine gentlecolts. A little introverted self-contemplation is useful in such turbulent times. After all, Equestria needs to defeat its enemies, and, well, I’m sure you agree that any enemy of Equestria needs to be defeated immediately. Now I, Mill, consider myself a relatively reasonable fellow. As honourable as any in Canterlot. I am asking nicely, here. Whatever you do is entirely your prerogative. What I do is also entirely my prerogative." Glancing around, he indifferently addressed the silent stallion sitting before him. "So, tomorrow, then?" Blueblood finished his glass and made to leave. But before he left the booth, he glanced back at Mill. "Oh, and if you'd be so kind, Their Celestial Highnesses' Revenue and Customs would appreciate it if you did not indulge in a little tax avoidance. It is..." He paused and scratched at his chin. "Problematic. Good day to you." When Applejack was woken up in the middle of the night by the hammering of a Lunar Guard upon the gate, told to pack basic amenities and to follow them, not in a year did she expect to meet Prince Blueblood again. She certainly hadn’t expected him apologise for the Gala all that way back. Then Shining Armor had taken her aside and mentioned that Prince Blueblood might be interested in signing a few contracts with Sweet Apple Acres and Applejack couldn’t help but agree to treat with the Government over this. He’d also warned her about Blueblood’s tendency to take a measure of influential ponies with which he had never interacted with before, which was generally insulting, confusing or a trap of some kind. She wasn’t stupid enough to draw the infamous ire of Prince Blueblood and reject a chance at a healthy amount of money. Which was why she was in his fancy office watching him examine her with the eyes of a hunter while simultaneously nursing a battered old tin mug of what smelt to be tea while Shining Armor stood behind him and to the left slightly. From what Applejack recalled of her training (and Rarity’s lectures) in ‘propriety’, it was an offence to wear your hat in non-public spaces. Still, she hadn’t taken it off for the Princesses and wasn’t taking it off for this allegedly stuck-up ponce. She still wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing, but it was probably that taking measure thing that Shining Armor had mentioned. Then the Prince, to her surprise, magically pulled an expensive-looking bottle of cider out of nowhere and thumped it down in front of her. “A drink, Miss Applejack?” he asked with lazy nonchalance, dismissive blue eyes meeting with her agrarian green. Applejack looked down at the bottle, up at the Prince, then back up at the bottle again. The Prince had forbade the Elements of Harmony from consuming alcohol during their ‘stay’ in the Castle, and it actually looked decent. Real alcohol, not that fancy, weak stuff they served at Fancypants’ parties. It looked darker than what it ought to have been according to the label. “Uhh, no thank you, Your Royal Highness. Not that I wouldn’t, of course. Jus’ prefer to keep my mind on things when talking business.” Blueblood nodded with the slightest of cracks in his countenance, magically throwing the bottle over to Shining Armor, who, after recovering from his initial surprise, knocked it open and starting drinking from the bottle with as much dignity as he could muster once Blueblood had lifted his mug to his lips. Applejack’s eyes narrowed at this, but she made no comment. “Miss Applejack, I and Their Celestial Highnesses’ Government extend our thanks for agreeing to meet with us so quickly. Shining Armor here-“ he gestured to the pony behind him with an errant wave of a hoof, “says you may be of assistance.” “From my experience, Applejack, you’re extremely dependable, and we’ll need steady hooves in the coming future. Cadance and Twiley,” faltered Shining Armor slightly, “would certainly agree with me on that if they were here.” “Well, when duty calls, I’ve gotta come runnin’.” “An admirable sentiment,” continued Blueblood smoothly. “Now, since you’re probably wondering why we summoned you, we have a number of… problems you could help us with.” Shining Armor nudged his shoulder in Blueblood’s direction. Blueblood remained unaware – or appeared to. If Shining Armor was going to stand there, what on Equestria were they doing? “So, I figure Rarity’s been a bit rotten and short-sighted again, eh?” “You could say that,” answered Blueblood. Behind him, Shining Armor slumped slightly. “Well, she may have a big mouth, but she ain’t so bad when ya get to know her. A bit stuck up, but ah’m not sure whether you’d mind that in a pony, beggin’ yer pardon. Her heart’s in the right place, though, and that’s what matters, really. Sure, she does go off a bit, but she tries to fix it in the end, do the right thing, and that’s what really matters.” Blueblood paused, then grunted. He then launched, of all things, into an aggressive, long-winded inquiry about agricultural matters containing many long words which Applejack felt some degree of certainty in taking it as being partly an exercise to confuse and one to insult. He asked about the Everfree, about how dangerous it was, about “the viability of high-intensity yet sustainable methods in proximity to hazardous territory”, “how feasible land reclamation [was]”, and about “the degree of Government agricultural subsidisation”, before proceeding to talk about agriculture-related matters, including apple consumption, mass apple preservation, average prices, the Market, various regulations on naming and production, taking a massive pile of notes in doing so before he’d finally gotten onto the reason why she’d been summoned to his fancy office and offered her some decent-looking cider which Shining Armor was consuming at an interesting rate, having procured some additional bottles out of somewhere and had partially dropped out of the conversation apart from the odd insight here or there. “Their Celestial Highness’ Government has a proposal for Sweet Apple Acres which is of great benefits to both parties. We are willing to offer, in light of recent events, a legally-abiding written bipartisan contract concerning an exchange of goods between our two parties, with yourself as representative of the latter. Namely, in return for a constant, reliable source of apples and apple-based products, we are prepared to provide a constant, reliable source of Bits.” He pushed a piece of paper over at her. Shining Armor, standing behind the sitting Prince and wobbling very slightly, nodded in encouragement and spoke. “We’ve been concerned about how the Government is feeding its ponies, Applejack, and we thought we’d… shake things up a bit.” Applejack raised an eyebrow. Blueblood wasn’t the only one smudging things up in this room, but she hadn’t been brought here to judge him, so she got down to reading. She didn’t think of herself as the most well-read of ponies, nor the most well-read of the Elements, but she didn’t consider herself to be illiterate. After all, she had practically run Sweet Apple Acres for several years, and government paperwork was not something she was unaccustomed with. The tougher stuff needed help from Mayor Mare or Twilight, but this was something entirely unusual. A Government Contract written in relatively plain Equestrian. Still very long, though, but she gave it a skim-read. “What’s this bit about canned food,” she questioned pointing at a clause in the contract. “And ah don’t quite like how much yer askin’ for at once. We over at Sweet Apple Acres take pride ‘n our work, and truth be told ah’m not sure about whether we can keep this up.” She frowned. “Especially if ya’ll keep me here.” “We can deal with the canneries, if necessary. And you needn’t worry about your reputation, we can keep this on the hush if you desire it. Once we’ve addressed the Stable we intend to return the Elements to Ponyville, with some Guards in the case Ponyville gets attacked, so you may look through the ‘Castle of Friendship’ and see if there are any clues as there are to the Princesses’ disappearance.” “Somethin’ you ain’t letting on, Your Royal Highness? You ‘n Shining Armor over there seem awful keen on getting me to accept this contract.” Blueblood inclined his head somewhat. “Uh-huh, guessed so. Let me guess: Ya tried running it off your own farms, or the Government’s farms, but it didn’t work out. Now ya don’t trust your fancy, poncy so-called friends to keep a steady flow, but you think I can do a good enough job.” “You are the Element of Harmony after all, Miss Applejack, and come highly recommended from Shining Armor here – “ he gestured to the unicorn next to him, “and the Princesses as well. Ponyville is also closer to Canterlot than some of your competition.” Blueblood was clearly ignoring the question. But Shining Armor was here, and so was Blueblood, so it was clearly something to do with the Guards and their efforts to find Twilight and the Princesses. She’d heard that the Guards had been sent into the Everfree on extended service. “Well, if you just asked me straight up, then I’d be all for it. From what I’ve learned, hiding stuff you’re eventually goin’ to need to tell somepony doesn’t really work out that well. Now I’d be glad to help find Twilight and the other Princesses in any way ah can, and if Sweet Apple Acres can help too, well that’s just fine and dandy. However, considerin’ how you… two folks… have been acting, ’mind if I take a look over this in mah own time? I understand you’re a busy pony and I don’t want to take up your time sittin’ here…” She looked over at Shining Armor, who was nodding relatively vigorously. Blueblood considered this for a moment, before conceding. “Very well. I would appreciate an answer within three days.” Applejack hadn’t been in Canterlot for too long, but both Blueblood and Shining Armor were clearly planning something, and their plans weren’t exactly going the same way. Shining Armor had seemed alright at his job, and if Blueblood’s questions about agriculture and the economy and stuff which went a bit over Applejack’s head was an indicator of his competence, perhaps it wasn’t all too bad. A bit brusque, who lied with ease, but vaguely competent. If they got and worked together without going behind each other’s back, Applejack reflected, they might actually find the Princesses this century. If they weren’t at each other’s necks in an hour. Canterlot folk perplexed her sometimes.