The Castle Canterlot

by Honey Mead

Chapter 4

The Castle Canterlot:
Chapter 4

“Far better to be loved than worshiped.”

—H.R.H. Princess Celestia

Cadence glared at the chariot fading into the distance, or more accurately, the tall white figure riding it. Her wings shifted, the purple tips curling against her sides. It wasn’t fair. She’d had plans. Shiny had finally managed to clear his schedule and set aside three solid days of vacation. They were supposed to be leaving for the Unicorn Range in the morning—by separate means—for three days of ski slopes and hot cocoa. As if that wasn’t bad enough, now she had to deal with the Revered Speaker as well.

Cadence searched her memories of the past week, looking for anything she may have done to anger her aunt. There was nothing that stood out, nothing to justify that level of punishment. They’d only interacted so many times, and everything had been cordial at worst.

Stomping her hoof, she spun in place and marched back into the castle, only to stop halfway to the door. With practiced precision, she performed the breathing exercise she’d developed centuries ago. After two extra repetitions, she calmed and opened her eyes.

With her panic and annoyance set aside, Cadence focused on her next course of actions. If Auntie thought she was just going to roll over and play nice, she had another thing coming. First things first, she needed to speak with Chronicle.

With mild surprise, she realized he was nowhere in sight. Only to chide herself for it. Of course he wouldn’t be standing outside any longer than necessary.

Resuming her course with more purposeful steps than she’d had all day, Cadence made her way back into the castle.

Just as she’d expected, she found Celestia’s senechal just inside with his back to the doors. What she hadn’t expected was the herd of other ponies surrounding him. She recognized most of them, if only by face. A few stood out as the more important of Celestia’s staff. As she approached, Chronicle was updating them on the current state of affairs, primarily Celestia’s sudden vacation. All of them seemed to have been struck dumb, either by shock or worry.

Most surprising to her was Chronicle himself. She’d never claim to ‘know’ the stallion, their relationship never having made it past repeated acquaintance, but his personal quirks were one of the worst kept secrets in the castle. The only signs of his anxieties were the near constant twitch of his tail and left ear as he spoke.

His show of confidence wasn’t cutting it, however, and Cadence decided it would be a good idea to step in. Lacking the sheer physical presence of Auntie, she had to clear her throat to get their attention. Only a few of them noticed her at first, but once one started to bow the rest were quick to follow suit.

“Thank you,” she said, using the regal tone and poise that had been drilled into her since birth. “Now, I know that this might seem a shocking turn of events. Auntie does not make a habit of taking vacations, but this is not the first time she has done so. She will only be gone for a few days at most, and, if everypony focuses on their normal duties, most of you won’t even notice she is gone.”

She watched them as her words sank in. While she didn’t achieve the level of success that Celestia would have, it was enough to waylay the worst of the worriers. Chronicle, after giving her a nod of thanks, turned back to the group with a more stable ear and tail. Hanging back, she allowed him to dictate the marching orders for the rest of the day. Almost every topic that they’d covered with Celestia was repeated as a set of instructions to the pony responsible with written documents passed along when necessary.

At length, the herd dispersed until only Chronicle and Cadence remained.

Cadence put on a proud smile for Chronicle, noting that he’d stopped fidgeting, though he did have to wipe a small amount of sweat from his brow with a kerchief.

“I’m impressed at how well you managed that.”

“Thank you, your Highness,” he said, his neutral tone making her wonder if she’d offended him. “I fear that if you had not come when you did it would not have played out so well.”

“I don’t know about that.”

Chronicle looked up at her and seemed to stutter for a moment before saying. “If we wish to remain on schedule, we will need to get started, your Highness.”

“Of course, Chronicle,” she said with a small nod. Starting forward, she added, “And please, I am not Auntie, do not feel compelled to maintain so much formality.”

Trotting to keep pace, Chronicle nodded as his field rifled through his saddlebags. “Yes, your Highness. Now, we have—”

Princess Cadence’s smile slipped a smidge. “I said you could drop the titles.”

“As you say, your—”

“Chronicle.”

“Yes?”

“Stop it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Cadence glared ahead as she started forward, speaking through clenched teeth, more than a little venom suffusing her tone, “So, Mr. Chronicle, what wonders of bureaucracy shall we be wallowing in today?”

“I do not know about ‘wallowing’,” he said, either missing or ignoring her annoyance, “but there are three committee meetings that I will be attending in her Highness’ absences.” Cadence let out an annoyed whinny. She had no desire to be in the general vicinity of a committee meeting, much less stuck in one. Chronicle’s not-quite disapproving glance did not go unnoticed. “It would be an unofficial presence, purely for observation.”

Cadence’s voice brightened. “You mean I don’t have to go?”

“Her Highness likes to—”

“You will notice, Mr. Chronicle, that I am not Auntie. And that is not what I asked.”

Chronicle’s ear twitched. “No, Ma’am, not as such.”

“Good,” Cadence said with a note of finality. “What about holding court?”

Chronicle’s normally placid expression fell into a solid frown. “Court will remain closed until the day after the celebration as—”

“We will cross that hurdle when it arrives then. What else?”

Cadence glanced down at her aunt’s senechal when he failed to answer promptly. She noted his right ear twitch with some concern. Before she could question it, he spoke up, “Ambassador Kara will undoubtedly seek an audience to negotiate the new trade agreement with Bloodrock.”

“Shouldn’t…” Princess Cadence faltered, “Chancellor Plume? or… Tenpony? be in-charge of that?”

“Tenpenny, and while that would normally be the case, any attempt to pass her off to somepony else will be seen as an insult—”

“Didn’t you just refer to the King as a ‘common street vendor’?”

“In private conference with you and her Highness. Might I remind your Highness that Bloodrock Spire is the largest exporter of diamonds and,” he shuddered a little, “ivory. While these are luxury goods, they are important luxury goods that would cost exponentially more to purchase from any other source.”

“Mr. Chronicle, I have as much experience negotiating trade agreements as you have with astrology. Besides, what were you going to do before Auntie decided to take her holiday?”

“With her Highness out of Canterlot, the ambassador would have accepted speaking with myself and Chancellor Plume. Proceeding with that course would prove unwise as there will be no way to keep her ignorant of you holding court in her Highness’ absence. I promise that it will be a painless and brief experience. Ambassador Kara has little patience for politics.”

Cadence started to respond, only for the words to slip her mind as they turned a corner.

Not twenty paces down the hall another set of ponies was headed their way. Two of them passed under her notice, eclipsed by the third whose color palette was one Cadence had learned to avoid long ago. The unicorn mare’s coat was a pure white that could only be obtained through the long term use of chemical treatments—though the original pink could be spotted at the roots. Similarly, her mane was a rust-red color that also failed to hide the natural blue as the hairs grew out.

Chronicle and Cadence stopped in unison with the trio at ten paces. She hardly noticed the two other ponies give the standard bow that she’d received from nearly everypony since she could remember. Much as she would otherwise, the protocol was there for a reason, and, for some reason she’d never understood, ponies wanted to bow. She’d tried to stymie the behavior once, when founding the Crystal City, and gave up after the first day.

There was no ignoring the Sister, however. Bowing, the mare touched her chin to the floor, her hooves outstretched so that her barrel touched the ground and left her hindquarters up in the air.

Even as the other two started to rise, the stallion opening his mouth to speak, the Sister rode right over him. “Your Serene Highness, it fills me with joy to once again find myself in the glory of your presence.” Cadence successfully held back her groan, but could do nothing to stop her eyes from imitating a runaway wagon wheel. “And Mr. Chronicle,” she continued as she rose, “it has been too long.”

“It is always a pleasure, Revered Speaker. Though I must apologize; her Divine Highness has already left for Ponyville and has elected to take a few days of holiday. However, her Serene Highness, Princess Cadence has agreed to speak with you in her place.” If he noticed the glare Cadence sent his way, he showed no sign.

Blessed Harmony seemed to take it as wonderful news, her ever present smile growing even wider as she stared up at the Princess. “Marvelous!”

Cadence’s grin became manic as realized that there was no escape. “Wouldn’t you rather wait for Auntie to return?”

“Pish-posh. It has been far too long since our last chat.” Apparently confident that she would be followed, the Revered Speaker turned and began trotting away.

With a final baleful glare leveled at Chronicle, Cadence caught up with the priestess.

— — — TCC — — —

With Princess Cadence and the Revered Speaker trotting away, Chronicle turned his attention to the two remaining ponies. The first was a young pegasus he recognized as one of the palace messengers.

The colt let go of his put-out expression as he faced forward again. Bowing, he asked if he was needed. Chronicle shook his head and dismissed the colt, who wasted no time in making his exit.

The young mare inclined her head. “Mr. Chronicle, sir.”

She was a unicorn with a subdued violet coat and dull pink mane of neat curls. Certain that he recognized her, Chronicle tried to recall her name, but found his memory stubbornly lacking. “Yes, Miss?”

“Lady Blackwell wishes to extend an invitation to join her for tea.”

Surprised, Chronicle pulled out his watch only to see that it was indeed tea time. It was almost as though the day was hastening toward night and the parties that would follow. Lacking any plans of his own, he nodded his consent, saying, “It would be my pleasure,” and motioned for her to lead the way.

The pair fell into step together as she escorted him to Sunhall. West of the palace, Sunhall was the second center of her Highness’ government. From the House of Ladies to the Fine Arts Commission, every office of governance not tethered directly to the palace was housed on the long boulevard. While her Highness ostensibly ruled Equestria, she took a very horn-off approach whenever possible, allowing her subjects to devise their own governance—within certain bounds. Officially the Offices Public, the compound had quickly become known by the street it was built around.

Chronicle’s tail flicked from side-to-side as they stepped into the early evening sun. His left ear was fast to join once they rounded the street corner and were surrounded by the rush of political aspirants and reporters galloping to finish their work and return home before the festivities could start.

The clatter of hooves and errant voices filling the air were not conducive to private conversation. While Chronicle himself had no issue with this, he could see that his companion was not so comfortable in the extended silence. With his eyes studying the sidewalk no more than two lengths ahead of them, he broke it.

“I apologize, Ms., but I don’t seem to recall your name.”

“That’s okay,” she said with an honest meekness, taking a step closer to avoid another pony heading the other way, “I’m nopony important.”

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, careful not to notice the sky beyond, and frowned. “Your name, if you please.”

She started at the sharpness of his tone. “Quick Quill, Mr. Chronicle, sir.”

“Ms. Quill, I would recommend that you forget that phrase.”

“Sir?”

“Everypony is important, Ms. Quill, and if her Highness catches word of your opinion, she will likely make that fact known to you whether you like it or not.”

She didn’t seem to know how to respond to that, opting to let the conversation die with a bowed head.

They passed the center of Sunhall, marked by a large fountain where it intersected Moonhall. As was the norm in Canterlot, it was a marble behemoth. Water sprayed up from the central spout, falling between the statues of the three tribes. Each faced its tribes own Hall. The earth pony, to the north-east, reared up with its left foreleg pointing toward the House of Commons. The pegasus, wings flared as though about to fly off, looked skyward toward the Cloud Enclave’s Cloud Hall tethered to the south. Finally, the unicorn stood proud on all fours, Sol’s light sparkling off the diamonds set in its horn, its gaze never wavering from the House of Ladies at the end of Sunhall.

The House of Ladies was well appointed, but stoic, lacking the palace’s ostentation. White marble built and supported by fluted columns, the building was all squares and triangles with only bas-reliefs above the entrance for ornamentation.

Chronicle’s left ear relaxed as they entered the narrow hallways, barely enough room for three ponies to walk side-by-side. Despite the more cramped quarters, the number of ponies had only seemed to grow, forcing the pair to weave and dodge as they moved deeper inside.

Just like the exterior, there could be no doubt of the richness on display, regardless of the lack of flair. Portraits and busts of previous members were the only pieces of art on display. White walls outlined a solid burgundy carpet.

Though he knew the way, he allowed Quick Quill led them up the three flights of carpeted stairs until they stood outside the Madam Speaker’s office. There she excused herself and slipped through the door, leaving Chronicle to wait in the outer office.

Quick Quill’s desk was small but tidy, a short stack of papers in one corner with an empty tray next to it. Three quills rested in a little jar next to two wax sealed inkwells. A brass name plate at the center displayed her name in a flourish of black engraving. The bookshelves against the back wall were filled with thick tomes of Equestrian laws, procedures, and case studies. Two cushions sat against the wall opposite her desk for anypony awaiting the Madam Speaker’s pleasure.

The door opened again, Quick Quill stepping out and motioning for Chronicle to enter.

The Madam Speaker’s office was far more regal. The desk, passed down from one Madam Speaker to the next, was an exact copy of the Princess’, though an inch smaller in every dimension. Medals and honors adorned the walls, filling every space that wasn’t taken up by rich painting and the two bookshelves behind her desk. Delicate glass figurines were artfully placed on most of the horizontal surfaces, a particularly large replica of the Princess on the left side of the desk.

Madam Speaker, Scribble Blackwell, was a late-middle aged unicorn mare, the first sign of wrinkles hidden behind her light grey coat. Her black mane framed her face, highlighting her magenta eyes. She smiled warmly as Chronicle entered.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Chronicle. I trust the day is treating you well.”

“As well as can be expected.” He smiled, a small uptick of his lips. “The palace does not take holidays after all.”

Lady Blackwell hummed as though he’d told a joke.

The door opened once again to admit Quick Quill with a tea service in tow. A rich, almost spicy, aroma filled the room as the she opened an odd container next to the pot. Though it was not unpleasant, Chronicle’s nose crinkled at the unfamiliar and heady smells.

“Have you ever had Chai?” Lady Blackwell asked.

“Chai?

She hummed. “It is a tea… more or less, from Inponesia. My youngest daughter introduced us to it when she returned from there two months ago, and we’ve all taken quite a shine to it.”

Chronicle nodded absently, paying far more attention to Quick Quill as she boiled the water and milk mixture while adding a myriad of whole leaf spices. Of them, he could only name two, cinnamon and anise. Five minutes of steeping later, the mixture was strained into the porcelain tea pot and two cups poured.

A pleasant tan color, the spice was overwhelming as he took the proffered cup. His uncertainty peaking, Chronicle glanced up at Lady Blackwell. The Madam Speaker graced him with an encouraging smile before sipping her own and humming appreciatively. Tentatively, he followed her lead.

The potent seasoning stampeded across his tongue, half continuing down his throat, the rest jumping up his sinuses. He coughed, covering his mouth with a hoof. “That is—” he cleared his throat, “different.”

“Perhaps it is not for everypony.”

“No. No, its good,” he said honestly. The flavors, strong though they were, sashayed along his tongue. Hot, but not painfully so.”Just, different.”

She smiled and seemed to relax into sear. “I’m glad you like it. Speaking of imported goods, how are the negotiations with the griffons going?”

Chronicle mimicked her posture, easing deeper into the cushion. “Right about where you’d expect…”

— — — TCC — — —

It was evening when Chronicle finally made it to his office. To label the space as spartan would be no better than labeling the Canterhorn as a mountain. Barely a closet, it accommodated a desk. The east wall led out to a balcony large enough for three friendly ponies, while a fireplace filled the west. Oddly, a fair number of plush cushions were bunched together before the mantle, their bright reds and golds the only source of color in the drab room.

Crossing the threshold, he paused, inhaling deeply through his nose. A weight seemed to slip from his back as he exhaled, his withers relaxing for the first time that day. His hooves flexed against the stone as his eyes wandered from one wall to the next, taking in the tiny space as a dragon would his horde.

His dalliance didn’t last. Removing his saddlebags and the documents from within, he took his place behind the desk. Quill and ink retrieved, he set to work with a genuine smile on his face.

Time seemed to speed up from there. A number of ponies came and went over the following hours, some bearing paperwork, some taking paperwork away, and a few stopping in to speak on small matters of the palace.

As senechal, Chronicle was an important non-authority. He was both the Princess’ secretary and Chief of Staff for the palace. The latter gave him near absolute control over the goings on within the castle walls. The former, however, placed him in the center of every aspect of governance without granting him any real power to affect it. It all amounted to a veritable mountain of paperwork crossing his desk on any given day.

Chronicle couldn’t be happier.

The flow ebbed to a trickle until finally stopping as Sol slid below the disc, and the holiday officially began. Ponies of all ages congregated in parks, fields, and large indoor spaces. Bonfires, staged hours before, were set aflame, a crackling vigil set to burn until Sol made her triumphant return. Fillies and colts played games in the warm glow, bursting with energy at the mere prospect of staying up all night.

Barely audible, the sounds from the palace’s own party found their way in through his open balcony, the orchestra’s muted chords just on the edge of hearing.

Chronicle stared blankly at the page in his field before sighing and putting it back down. It could wait. He rolled his head, his stiff neck popping loudly in the otherwise shadow silent room. His stretching ended with his head tilted back. His eyes locked onto the ceiling, and he smiled.

“Spellslinger.”

An almost impressed snort came from the darkness gathered at the ceiling. The shadows began crawling away to reveal a pink coated unicorn. Laying up with her hooves tucked above her, she looked down at Chronicle and smiled. Her short, blue mane lay against her neck, forelock hooked behind an ear.

A flash of grey dismissed the gravity spell. Her mane and tail drooped, floating for a half-second before the rest of her followed suit. Another flash and she disappeared, a duo of sharp cracks filling the tiny room.

Two pink forelegs slipped under Chronicle’s cannons a half second later, wrapping around his barrel and pulling him back against her chest.

“How long?”

Chronicle let himself sink into the warm fur even as Star’s rough cheek nuzzled his from behind. “When Tenpenny left, though I knew you were here the moment I stepped inside.”

“How?”

He inhaled deeply through his nose. “Lilacs and nutmeg.”

Chronicle reached back and ran his hoof along her cheek, feeling the twisted clumps where the hairs of her coat stuck out at odd angles, like shadows over her scars. Her weight pressed against his back as she nuzzled into the hoof.

“How long?” He asked.

“Three weeks.”

“Where?”

Star shrugged, her muscles flexing against his back. “You would know better than I.”

He paused to sort through the most recent events. “A privateer boat most like, hunting Hackney pirates.”

She nickered. “I hate sailing.”

A comfortable silence fell as their ritual greeting ended, filled by nothing but even breaths and steady hearts. Chronicle didn’t waste any time worrying about how little time they had before she was off again. It was something that neither of them could control. He could no more ask her to stay than she could ask him to follow. Instead, they savored what time they had together.

The glow of Star’s horn wrapped around the desk’s lower right drawer, pulling it open to reveal a Stones board.

“White or Black?”

Comments

[Shogoki]

Great chapter, sets up the what life in the castle was before the events of the next day quite nicely. I really enjoyed all the interactions between the different characters and it's nice to see the attention to details from the M&B stories is also present here. Can't wait to see what follows the next day.

[Honey Mead]

4335449
Thanks, there will be one more chapter for the first act followed by a short interlude before everything starts to go to Tartarus.

As for the MaB stuff, Tundara and I have been working closely to develop all the 'structures': religious, political, social. It's really fun just talking about how things work in a society that is so differently-similar to our own.

[Tundara]

4335817

And it's always the little things that cause snags... Like, "How does Bloodrock trade with Equestria if they have no port?"

[VulcanFire09]

The story is quite good so far, and I look forward to reading what comes next. I think that palace/courtly life in Equestria is an interesting aspect to explore and the M&B-verse has enormous potential for that. That said, I saw a few things that could be addressed:
Near the middle second paragraph in the scene after Cadence and Revered Speaker leave Chronicle:

Bowing, he asked if [he] was needed.

Near the end:

It was something that either of them could control.

The word "either" should be "neither" since the rest of the paragraph indicates that neither of them has control of the situation.

4335894
Just because Bloodrock is landlocked, does not mean they are unable to trade with anyone other than neighbor. They may have trade deals with neighbors to allow access to ports for trading with Equestria and others. Heck, trade deals like that would be used for political intrigue in trade negotiations.

[Honey Mead]

4348614
Thanks