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// Late Night shouldn't be this frustating...or odd 
// Story: Snow Feather, the lesser known Art Restorer of Canterlot 
// by dracone 
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It's a quiet night, I like that. I just finished dropping my completion notices in postboxes and returned to my workhouse/home. Nothing to report, other than some crazy, marginally drunk pink mare with a ballet themed cutie mark nearly noticing my presence, fortunately, I was so far away in the dark the best she would get would be silhouette she will likely brush off as some random pony she saw at night. I have excellent night vision, thanks to dad's side of the family, so I could tell she was pink, and two sheets to the wind, chances are she's going to have a slight hangover when she gets back home and wakes up tomorrow, hope it doesn't interfere with her duties.

Seriously, what am I going to do tonight, I have no commissions and am too low on the resources for my personal projects, all of them. Metallic paints and inks are not cheap, and don't even get me started the Obsidian Blade black, so named for the Royal Guard who moonlit as an artist four centuries into Princess Celestia's Post-Nightmare reign that managed to create his own unique blend of black paint. Of course, it makes sense his sister, Opal Armor, was a talented artist that created a dozen new varieties of white paint, only three of which are now common in the Equestrian fine art scene and one of which is common among artists of all standings. I should probably do another inventory check on the paints I have again to make sure I didn't miss anything.

Note to self, if I ever end up talking art with somepony try not to go into a ramble about the different kinds of white paint there are. There are times I really hate summer, I haven't been able to do any personal projects for almost two months. The Clover wedding painting is practically singing to me why it needs restoring, and the first Wonderbolts portrait is also in pretty rough sha

“Hello, anypony here,” came the voice of what sounded like a male servant that really didn't want to be doing his errand, must be working for some self-entitled twit. I tapped the glass near the request cards A red urgency card slipped through the chute. He must be on a very short deadline, and even shorter leash. I'm not looking forward to this request, but a job's a job.

I picked up the card and did a quick read of it; it was asking if I could restore a supposedly six-hundred-year-old painting for a one 'Prince Noble Right', I pinched the bridge of my beak, Noble Right was one of the worst Canterlot had to offer. He hardly ever made public appearances, even among his fellow nobility, and to make matters worse when he did make appearances many of Canterlot's elite acted like his word was second only to Princess Celestia herself, quite distasteful. I may not be a bred Canterlot mare, but at least I have a better sense of taste than to listen to a self-important prick who in all likelihood has no clue what they are talking about most of the time. Bet he couldn't tell an authentic Opal Armor from a third-rate Joan Mareo, of course, that's probably true for most of the Canterlot elite. At the moment I was regretting my decision to open the shop up for a few hours this night.

I slid a blue card back out and told him telling him to provide another card with the specifics and contact information. I got another red card that gave dimensions for an overly large portrait, the only thing I could think of while reading it over is that the whole family had a severe ego problem. A painting that could barely make it through my back door when it's opened to the maximum if you included the frame, it will be a nightmare getting out their door and down here. I really despise this kind. I slid another blue card to him saying that I could do the job, but without personally assessing the piece I couldn't give an estimate of the expenses, also told him where could drop off the item.

After that, I heard the sound of him leaving the storefront, then heard the sound of several hooves moving something into position at the location I provided. What I heard next made my skin crawl, and I even felt some of my feathers molt. An egotistical male voice, in an arrogant tone in the upper Canterlot accent, said, “I suppose it will do, it's not one of the prime restoration facilities, but at least they had enough common sense to keep their doors open long enough for this important endeavor.” I took a peek outside through a hidden peephole in my rear door; thankfully the frame wasn't around the painting. Unfortunately, the servant had given me dimensions that fell a bit shy of the size of the painting, which at the moment was carefully rolled up as if it were a scroll. At its size, the rolled-up painting looked more like a carefully rolled rug in canvas colors, and was being carried by four pegasus servants, four earth pony servants and I could make out the distinct glow of three unicorn levitation spells. “Once we have confirmation the item has been taken into the shop we will leave this wretched place,” he was just outside of the range of my peephole, not entirely sure of that is blessing or not. Thankfully rolled up I could open the doors just enough to pull it in without drawing attention to myself.

I reached over to a care pole intended for items such as this painting. I stuck a note on the pole, which included an explanation of the pole then opened the door just wide enough to let the rolled up piece of art in with a little extra room then stuck the pole out note first for them. The less interaction with any of them the better, after it was in I could close up shop and get to evaluating the extent of the damage in the morning, after taking care of the rest of my nightly routine. Come on, leave already is what I thought during the entire time. I usually kept my night hours for ponies like those that represent Princess Luna, not egotistical Canterlot elites with an absurdly massive superiority complex.

“My lord,” I cringed when a stallion's voice said that, I also wondered how much he was being paid to say that, “it seems there is a note on this pole, according to this note the pole is designed for specifically for handling properties like our current package.”
“Excellent,” said the egotistical voice, “take the necessary actions for the transaction, and make it quick.”

“Yes, sir,” came the chorus of fourteen ponies. I really wanted to deck this guy, but that would mean revealing myself, something I don't ever want to do with his lot. After feeling the hefty weight of the item on the pole, I reeled it in and shut the door behind it, and made it clear the back door was locked. I heard the sound of pony coming into the storefront a note dropped into the chute, a quick read told me it was one of the servants asking for my assessment. I wrote a response letter on a blue card that said that it would take some time to evaluate and they would likely be getting a rough estimate of the damages and costs by the time as their arrival the following night. I hate egotistical pricks; thankfully I never deal with them directly.

The sound of the small parade leaving let me know it was just about time to close up shop, just when I was preparing to head into the storefront to do so I caught the sound of a pony entering the storefront. Why do I keep getting visitors at the most improper time? This pony seemed to be a small blue mare, seemed like the type to usually be confused for a filly. She seemed to be looking around, a blue notecard slid into the chute. I opened and read it, the note was the most polite I had seen in a long time. It was also apologizing about the intrusion on account of her working much later than anticipated and getting a little turned around in the nighttime atmosphere of the city, also asking what the place was and its relationship to the rest of Canterlot.

I dropped a note explaining it all. A few minutes later I heard one of the cutest “What?” mare squeaks in my life, “Oh no, this is bad, I need to get home so fast that... sorry, I'm rambling. This is a nice place you have here, I'll tell a few ponies about this place, it's a nice change of pace from what we usually get in the rest of Canterlot. Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot to tell you my name,” she shuffled, "can I come in back for proper introductions?”
I dropped a card in the chute with my reasoning why ponies couldn't come in back, she pulled it up and I could hear the sound of her ears drooping in disappointment. I could hear her shuffling around before she dropped a notecard in the chute, all it said was, 'I'm Azurite, I work for the royal guard. Who are you?' I slid a blue not card in the chute with my response. I heard her taking the card and reading it very carefully.
“That's a pretty name,” I'd heard that all too often, I just took it to be a meaningless platitude at this point, “and you have such a pretty name for your store. It's a bit crazy right now, I might forget about this place for a while, could you give some general directions for getting here in the future? I'll make sure to keep them somewhere safe.” I figured sure, why not? She's being more gracious than I usually see around my store. I slid a blue notecard with basic instructions on how to get to the story from Canterlot proper.

After hearing her leave I waited a few minutes before closing up shop, I was feeling a bit too drained for my usual flight practice, so I just made sure all the doors and windows were locked and unbroken before going to part of the complex that served as my bedroom. My nest never looked so inviting; tomorrow was going to be a pain. That was future Snow's problem, because at that moment it was time for sleepy Snow to get some rest.