The Princess's Attendant

by The Plebeian

Student

In hindsight, the first day was probably one of the easiest. It was just the job, after all. Perhaps the most confusing part of being the Princess’s Attendant was figuring out my role as far as Equestrian politics were concerned. I think the princess made a point of never directly telling me what that role was. Few in this world are considered ‘natural politicians.’ Those select few should be avoided at all costs.

I came in before dawn again, this time with a pair of dresses, my hat, my bag, and a few flower boxes. One of the guards kindly led me to my room, which was just to the right of the princess’s. I remember a cold draft rushing past me when I creaked the door open. I tried to take a deep breath, but the air was laden with dust, and I coughed rather unattractively in front of the guard. I, for one, can vouch for the Royal Guards’ dedication; not even a hint of a smile passed over his stoic face. It hardly mattered, though. I knew he was laughing behind his mask.
It took all of three minutes to move in. The room already had furniture far more befitting a palace than my old splintery dresser. In fact, the boudoir had its own set of dresses inside, all of them more classy than those I had brought with me. They all had some sort of natural theme to them, be it floral print, bright flowery colors, or vine-like embroidery. The broad desk from the day before had also been moved to my room, and after having placed the flowers at the window, I looked through its contents drawer by drawer. Naturally, it held everything I could possibly need: scroll paper, at least five full inkwells, a dozen quills, a lamp with several bottles of oil, a small clock, a fine silver pocket watch, some wax, and a signet.

The signet was actually the first indication of what I had casually walked into the day before. I tested it out, and it left an imprint of the sun – naturally, the princess’s mark – with a scroll and quill inscribed within, surrounded by artistic fineries meant to deter forgeries. I had my own proof of authority, a mark with power. I thought it was certainly an upgrade from the lilies on my flank. This mark actually meant something to me. After all, it was my first step in what felt like the right direction.

In reality, though, I was just itching to step in any direction. I just wanted something I could claim when my body joined the grasses.

When I moved to throw the spent scroll away, another scroll – sealed in kind – caught my eye. It was in a drawer, rolled up and set aside from the rest of the blank scroll paper, and tied with a simple black ribbon. I laid it on the desk, and with a simple cutting spell, the ribbon fell away and the wax parted. I vividly remember the introduction, and the rest I may paraphrase.

Dear Other,

You hold in your hooves a nation. Pray, do not let it fall. The palace stands thus far because of my actions, and the actions of those before me. Doubtless, you’ve come to replace me as its cornerstone. Therefore, be solid and reliable, and for the princess’s sake, do not budge an inch.

Remember that the princess relies on you to handle the mundane. You solve the smaller problems so that she may handle the real ones. Know that you are replaceable; my predecessor was taught as much. Those who fail to serve will serve no longer. The princess cares not for your status either; after all, you are a servant, not a noble. As far as authority is concerned, she owns you. Do not despair, though. You are in gentle hooves.

I have the privilege of writing this letter in addendum to my will. I’ve served my full term with Princess Celestia, all the way to my death bed. My name is writ alongside Equestria’s greatest heroes, as I soon join the past. That is the importance of your new role. Pray that you also may serve your full mortal term in her service. Better is one day in this palace than a lifetime elsewhere. Keep the palace strong, and cherish the princess’s thanks; she does not give them lightly.

Once again, do not unravel my legacy. The palace and the princess are our lives’ work. Though she lives beyond us, she is not thankless. One day, when you reach your last sunset, when the sky is cast with colors of the heart, they will be yours. Your work will be done, and you will know every color the sky has ever held, and they will be yours.

The sun guides us home.

Until another day,
The Princess’s Attendant

There was no other signed name. In fact, she had signed “The Princess’s Attendant” as if that alone were her name. To be honest, it was somewhat distressing. For a mare to consider herself one with her duty – to lose all identity in favor of a title – was frightening to me.

But it is easy to be frightened of the things we know nothing about, the ideals we do not yet understand. I was merely afraid that one day, I would be the same: nothing more than words on a scroll, not even a name. Regardless, I kept it. It was a curiosity I would save for later, although I suspect that – the young mare I was – I just wanted to prove her wrong.

Once I had settled in, I visited Celestia’s room next door. By then, the sun was up, the door was open, and she was poring over a scroll. As I walked in, she gave me a quick glance before returning to the scroll.

“Ah, good. I was just finishing our list.”

“List, your highness?”

“Everything to be done today. Start to finish.”

“May I take a look?”

“Certainly.”

The list was more than lengthy. As I read over it, I made an even more unsettling discovery.

“My princess, several of these times overlap each other.”

“That’s where you come in. Thanks to you, I can be in two places at once again, metaphorically speaking, of course. You go to them, take whatever notes you need, do what must be done, and tell me what happens. It works for meetings at least, but not public appearances.”

“Of course, princess, but what about the agriculture meeting at seven to nine, the defense meeting from eight to ten, and the open council from seven to noon? Have you hired another attendant?”

“No, that’s where our real work comes in.”

“Princess?”

At that, she smiled. I imagine it was because she had lived out this moment countless times before. She liked to see things grow. This, to her, was a critical point.

“My job – our job, as a team – is to choose who to give our time and consideration to. Certainly, it’s a matter of making decisions, but every decision is backed by information. Who and what we spend our time with, from a simplified point of view, is the key thing that shapes Equestria. We have to choose which meetings are more important for us to attend, which gatherings absolutely require my specific presence, and of course, which events we cannot attend.. You must understand: everyone is vying for my – and now your – attention, whether or not we realize it. Everypony has their own little vision of what Equestria should be, and no two ponies will ever have the same vision, save for you and me.”

“How do you mean, Princess?”

“In order to do your job properly, you must align your will with mine. Otherwise, you are just another politician that I must work around.”

“I beg your pardon, but I hardly even know you yet. How can I possibly know what you would do?”

“That will come in time. For now, do your best.”

“That’s it?”

“Excuse me?”

“I beg your pardon, princess, but you’re trusting me to make your decisions for you on my first day when neither of us knows a thing about the other. It just feels a bit insecure.”

That made her smile grow into something almost mischievous. “May, even the most cunning politicians have trouble getting anything harmful through the palace. Your inexperience could hardly hurt anyone. I can tell you more about that later, if you would like. At the moment, you have a meeting to get to, and I have a council to manage.”

She quickly threw on her regalia, which reminded me that I still had yet to get properly dressed. I darted back over to my room, gave a quick brush to my mane, and threw on one of the dresses the princess had supplied: a simple green one with sylvan trim. When I returned to the princess’s room, she had already left. The list from before was pinned to her door, with several entries crossed out, which I could only assume meant she would handle them. I slid the list into my bag. My first order of business was the agricultural meeting, which the guards gratefully directed me to.

When I pushed the door to the meeting room open, I was greeted by a set of blank stares from various earth ponies seated around a table. I may or may not have exchanged a greeting; I cannot remember. Shortly afterward, though, I vividly remember one of them asking aloud, “Did somepony invite the gardener?”

I may have stalled for a moment. It is difficult to remember just how dreadful a politician I was at the time. Regardless, at some point I managed to say, “I’m the new attendant,” which, at the time, seemed to cheer them up.

One of them, a soil-brown stallion, stood up and offered a hoofshake. “Pleased to meet you, Miss. . .”

“May Flower.”

“Miss May Flower!” he picked up, “I’m Cash Crop. I’m glad the princess finally hired somepony with an eye for agriculture.”

I actually recognized his name from my seed bags. I later learned that he had weaseled himself into a monopoly on more seed species than even I cared to know. The others introduced themselves in kind, and were very friendly to me. I forget what the meeting was about, although I know it was not important business at all. Probably just another fruitless discussion about whether magic should be used to grow crops out of season. They never did decide on that one. Regardless, I took fairly detailed notes, and since they kept on talking on and on about it, no decisions were made. When the meeting adjourned, they were all sure to thank me for my attendance, and I made my way to the meeting on defense, which I would be interrupting an hour after its start.

What a terrible idea.

The welcome was very different. Their meeting room was just across the hall, and when I opened the door, I was greeted with a very blunt “Whoever you are, you’re late.” from an armored stallion on the far end of the table, over which was spread a map of Equestria and its surrounding nations. Besides that, they just kept on talking.

“Look, the queen isn’t going to make any advances anytime soon. She already knows our technology outpaces their magic.”

“It doesn’t matter what the queen knows. Once her daughter takes the throne, they’re a threat all over again. I’m telling you, we need to reinforce their border.”

“And I’m telling you, captain, that we’d be wasting our time. Even if they were a bigger threat than the feudal states up north, stationing more soldiers on the changeling borders would just give them more faces to mimic, and could provoke an attack we could otherwise have avoided.”

“Codewords and special routines could easily single out any infiltrators. My point stands.”

Everypony seems to think warriors are poorly suited for politics. Quite the opposite, actually. Anypony who gets to the highest, most coveted positions did so by adapting battlefield tactics to meeting tables and throne rooms. They are geniuses of their craft. In this particular case, one used the age-old tactic of overwhelming force.

“Well, miss, are you just going to stand there gawking, or are you actually going to sit down and talk?” said the one at the far end.

I rushed to an empty seat, and readied to take some notes before I realized they had entirely stopped talking. They were simply staring – some curiously, some angrily – at me. I blushed for a moment and spouted out, “May Flower, princess’s attendant, sirs.”

“General Bullrush,” said the same one in a stern tone. “Your hat, miss.”

Realizing they had all taken off their various helmets and set them on the table, I quickly took off my shade hat – which I had not even remembered putting on – and sat quietly, half expecting his gruff voice to lash out at me again. However, it never came. Instead, he gave me a glimpse of a satisfied smile and continued his argument with a stallion who I learned was Aegis, captain of the guard. I remained quiet through most of it, besides the occasional asking of a name. After all, I was no strategist. Most of what they said felt like another language entirely. Despite living in a nation of peace, these bold mares and stallions spoke war.

It made me wonder what I spoke. At the time, it was very little besides gardening, which was admittedly a sorry repertoire. With all I knew, I may as well have been mute. Of course, I had no intention of remaining that way. I made a note to visit the library at the end of the day and read up. I had a sinking feeling that I would be doing a lot of reading for this job.

As the meeting came to a close, the scowls on everypony’s faces gave me the feeling that nothing had been accomplished. Perhaps they were simply too stoic to reveal who had truly won. I would later understand that the battle never truly stopped. They donned their helmets and left the room, but they already had in their minds the strategies they would lay on the table the next day, and the days following.

“Hey,” a voice called out to me as I gathered my notes. I raised my head to see the face of General Bullrush, partly obscured by a plumed golden helm. “Nice to see the princess has herself a new right hand. Any reason she couldn’t come today?”

After a considerably long time working with him, I still find it hard to adequately describe Bullrush’s cadence. My best description to date is as follows: imagine the ferocity of a bear, checked only by your utility or alliance, and you will understand the essence of Bullrush. To those across the table, he barked, and those beside him he affirmed. Many considered his conversational tactics to be crude, but then again, those were the ponies across the table. Every once in a while, though, he would allow his harshness to target his allies, just to show them that he’s still watching them with a close and critical eye. It was incredibly off putting, which was of course his intention. It kept those around him from growing too complacent under his approving gaze.

At the moment, though, all I knew of him was a stern voice and a title. I nodded my head and replied, “The princess has an open council from seven to noon; why do you ask?”

The general closed his eyes and shook his head ever slightly, “I know for a fact that the princess schedules those open councils herself.”

This caught me off guard, but I tried my best to keep the princess’ reputation. However, my best at the time was considerably weak. “I’m sure the princess means no offense, General. Certainly, there must be another reason to have the council at that particular time.”

“How many seats do you count at this table, miss Flower?”

“May, if you will,” I insisted, “and I count nine.”

“Precisely. The princess has been neglecting these meetings for the past few months, leaving us with eight. She knows we’re split halfway on this issue. We can’t vote without her because it’ll come to a tie. I understand she may be inclined to pacifism, but stagnating our military isn’t going to keep our threats at bay. Do you understand?”

I nodded cautiously.

“So you understand, then, that you are the biggest threat and-or asset the military council as had for months.”

“I am beginning to, yes.”

“Excellent. That only leaves one question left. How well versed are you both in battlefield tactics and militaristic policies?”

Honesty is the best policy. “Entry level,” I replied.

“Eeuugh,” Bullrush groaned. “Brilliant. And here I thought the princess was throwing us a bone. No offense, of course.”

“None taken, I think.”

“How soon can you get versed?”

“Do you give any training materials to your subordinates?”

“Of course.”

“Give me copies of everything you give them, and we’ll see just how fast I can get caught up.”

“If you say so. I’ll get you the incident reports we’ve been discussing as well.”

“Good. Have them delivered to my room. Top floor.”

“Top floor?”

“That’s what I said, yes.” I turned around, having gathered my notes.

“One more thing, May.”

“What?” I asked, looking over my shoulder.

“I know this is all over your head right now, but read up on those incident reports. I know you’re not inclined to trust either side right now, but there’s a good reason I’m wary about the changelings.”

I tried my best to carry an even tone, but he was right. It was all over my head. All I could say was, “I’ll keep that in mind, General.”

He gave a short nod and left me alone. There was nothing left on the list until one o’clock, so I decided to join the princess in the open council in the meantime. As I made my way to the throne room, though, a dim echo slowly grew into muffled shouting.

It was something surreal. All the ponies in the halls went about their business. Nobody seemed to notice the harsh tones resonating through the great stone arches. Guards went on with their marches. One stallion checked his watch, and carried on at a slightly faster pace, but nobody seemed particularly disturbed. As I approached the doors, I shot one of the guards a questioning glance, but he stared ahead, unflinching.

“Any idea what’s going on, sirs?”

One offered an innocent shrug, which earned him a correcting kick in the side, which only served to make the pair seem even less professional as they glared at each other.

“It’s Wednesday, madam,” the second answered.

“I don’t understand.”

“You may enter, madam.”

I was inclined to object, but they opened the doors a slight bit for me regardless. The muffled voice suddenly gained a sharp and unpleasant clarity.

“. . . can’t understand why you let these unscrupulous urchins treat me this way!”

I entered the room from the left side of the entryway, leaving quite a walk to the throne. Meanwhile, the stallion’s mouth kept running.

“I’m trying to keep a reasonable and respectable establishment running, and the likes of them live for the chance to disrupt it! They make a mockery of my every gesture.”

As I drew closer to the princess, she gave me a curious look, as if I had suddenly stepped into her dream. Perhaps her nightmare. The stallion before her was white, with a well groomed blond mane and a poorly groomed character. For those who have met Prince Blueblood, many agree that meeting him is enough for anyone. Those who disagree would argue that meeting him is already too much.

When I met her at the throne, she signaled to stand beside her.

“Why do we even keep an open forum anyway?! What good do those common folk have to offer the palace?”

I looked up at the princess, who was staring at the stallion with half-lidded eyes. For just a moment, though, she looked back at me with a strange lift of the eyebrow, as if expecting something of me. I decided she must want my report on the meetings. I leaned over to whisper into her ear when the stallion opened fire.

“Excuse me, servant! Where are your manners? If you want an audience with the princess you have to wait in line.”

He was a miserable thing, but I would not allow myself to be goaded so easily. Not in front of the princess, at least.

“Pardon, sir. I was telling the princess about some more preeminent iss-”

“Don’t speak! Leave until I am finished! Honestly, since when did we let these peasants into the palace?”

I stole a glance at Celestia, who was holding the slightest smile at bay. It was a challenge. I shot a scowl at Blueblood. “Presumably the same time we let crying foals in.”

“What do foals have to do with this?”

The worst part by far about Blueblood was that he was so inconveniently dull. Then again, I fear what he would get accomplished were he just a bit sharper.

“Princess, would you please control your servant?”

To my surprise, the princess spoke, “May, if you would please sit down and remain silent, I would be greatly appreciative.”

So I did, wondering just what masochistic drive made the princess listen to every complaint and ridiculous plea of such a ludicrous character. Prince Blueblood took up the remaining hours of open council, at which point the princess stopped him with a short “That is all.” The prince huffed out. Once the door shut behind him, the princess asked, “Do you think he’s satisfied?”

“He had better be, considering all the time he took.”

“I’m serious, May.”

“Oh. I would say he wasn’t. He wasn’t even done complaining; we had to cut him off.”

“I disagree, but that is a conversation for later. We have a short break for lunch. Shall we?”

“Of course, princess.”

She led us to a dining hall where several guards and officials were sitting down to eat. A long ornate glass table, trimmed with accents of gold extended across the room, enough to seat the better part of the palace staff. Other tables surrounded it, supposedly to complement any extra guests that might be staying for a meal. As should be expected, no expense was spared on the decor. Crystal chandeliers lit the room with a warm atmosphere that reflected off the polished marble pillars that lined the room. All the room needed was music and a dress code, and it would easily be a banquet. She sat at the head of the long table, and motioned me to sit at her right.

“Is it always like this, princess?”

“Not at all. Usually, we have a few auxiliary tables filled with dignitaries, but we’re in shortage this week.”

“I mean this big extravagant dinner, princess.”

“Extravagant? We’re just having tomato soup, May.”

It was at that point that a waiter gave us our bowls, filled just below the brim with tomato soup. I stared confused for a moment, and just gave a faint “Oh.”

“Something wrong?”

“I don’t know. I just saw all the silver platters and decor and thought the food would match.”

“We only break out the best on occasions, usually on weekends. It’s just Wednesday, May. Certainly nothing to get excited over. How were the meetings?”

“Not much to report from agriculture. They just squabbled back and forth about farming and unicorn magic.”

“What did you think?”

“About what?”

“The farming, of course. Should we encourage our farmers to use magic to grow crops out of season?”

“Oh, well, hm.”

“Surely you found at least one side persuasive.”

“Oh, of course. I guess I’d say there shouldn’t be any restrictions on it. After all, without magic, my mother wouldn’t be able to grow flowers for the gardens.”

“We’re not talking about your mother, May. Besides, flowers are more for luxury. We’re talking about crops that both sustain the population of our nation and play a role in Equestria’s rich culinary culture.”

“You have a point there.”

“So what do you think?”

I sighed. “I don’t know what to think, princess.”

“Nonsense. You must decide.”

“I think unicorns should be allowed to use their natural advantages.”

“So you’ve decided?”

“Yes, my princess,” I replied, a hint of worry creeping into my tone.

“So if unicorn farmers can farm any crop any time of the year, what do you think will happen to the earth ponies that can only farm in season? If I can get my favorite kind of apples at the market whenever I want, what do you think will happen when some earth pony brand pops in for a short while?”

“I suppose you might not care as much, princess.”

“Certainly not. I can have my favorite apples any time I want. What should I care if I only see some other brand a certain time of year?”

“So then we shouldn’t, if it hurts the earth ponies’ business so much.”

“All right, so what if your mother were actually a farmer, for the sake of conversation. Cutie mark and all. Being a unicorn, she doesn’t have that same natural affinity for growing plants to such impressive sizes or with the same remarkable tastes as earth pony crops. Even though it’s her natural talent to grow crops, she just can’t match that earth pony quality everypony’s looking for. She might be able to get an edge over the competition by growing crops at unusual times of the year with her magic, but you’ve voted in a law forbidding produce unnaturally grown out of season. How will your mother compete?”

“I don’t know, your majesty.”

“She won’t. So, where do you stand, May Flower?”

“I don’t know!”

“That’s not an answer, May. You must decide!”

“I haven’t even had time to think!”

“You must choose regardless.”

“Why?!”

“Because you are my attendant, and you must act in my absence, not just scribble notes and vacantly absorb the conversations around you! Do you understand?”

I could not pull myself together well enough to speak. Others at the table were sending inquisitive glances our way. I began to realize that we had been yelling. As I looked around, I saw the members of the agriculture meeting staring intently at me.

Celestia then spoke softly, which was considerably more jarring than the yelling from before. “May, look at me.”

I did.

“Those ponies weren’t arguing for argument’s sake. When you walk into a meeting room, there’s only ever one undecided member, and that’s you. They are arguing so that you hear both sides of the debate, and they rely on you to have the wisdom and foresight to decide. This particular issue may not be as prominent or immediate as I’ve made it out to be, but in other cases, you won’t always have time to think.”

“I understand, Celestia.”

We sat still for a while. With a sigh, I finally began to eat. Slowly, the din of conversation returned to the dining hall. The princess was entirely silent for the remainder of the meal, leaving me anxious and ashamed. To be sure, it was exactly what Celestia wanted me to feel. She had many ways of teaching, but for me she saw fit to use the quickest one: the carrot and the stick. It is a difficult job, and she could not have me slowing her down for too long.

When she stood up, I stood with her, and she finally spoke, “Wednesday is full assembly straight after lunch. Make sure you have your notes, because even I have difficulty sifting through what everyone is saying. If you want to say anything, just be sure you choose your words carefully. Some of the nobles have a tendency to argue over wording more than they argue over principle.”

“Understood.”

“Otherwise, just try to keep your feelings in check. There are a few good ones in the assembly, but everyone has an agenda, and they will manipulate us however they can. You would be surprised at how . . . elaborate their schemes get.”

“Right.”

She made it sound like I was walking into a den of lions.

“You are listening, aren’t you, May?”

“Of course, princess! Think before talking and keep feelings out of the matter.”

“Ah, thank goodness.”

“Pardon, your majesty?”

“It’s just that I had this attendant once,” she began, a smile tugging at the ends of her lips, “I would always give her these lengthy explanations of what and why, and she would always give me some sign of affirmation, a nod or a strong ‘Mhmm!’ when I finished. It took me a few weeks to realize that she hadn’t a clue what I was ever talking about. She always got lost at the first mention of politics. She was a nice girl, and a phenomenal organizer, but she just couldn’t put a good hoof forward when it came to conversation. I had to let her go.”

“How many attendants have you had, Celestia?”

“Good ones? Ten, so far. They served me for nearly their entire lives.”

“How many others?”

“Oh, heavens. Including you, I think the count comes to one hundred and twelve”

“You’re kidding.”

“Believe me when I tell you, it is no easy feat to help a princess. Some had the sense to quit after losing hair over the job. Others pressed on, even though they just didn’t have the capacity for it. The most difficult part by far though is getting them to match me personality-wise.”
“I thought in the past, it was just a business position, not so much caretaking.”

“Well, May, the tricky part of the job is the lack of end date. There are two typical arrangements in which two are together until one dies: marriage and slavery. Given that you’re here by choice and you’re paid, we can rule out slavery.”

“I suppose that’s one way to look at it, princess.”

“It’s just a metaphor, May,” she said, her smile growing broader. “Anyway, if I’m going to be essentially married to my attendant for the rest of their life, I had better appreciate their company.”

“I can see why that would be a concern.”

She nodded, but she seemed to be staring at something only she could see.

“Princess?”

“Yes, May?”

“Do you enjoy my company?”

“I do, May. You are something of a new standard. I’ve spent a long time looking for the right skills in my attendants; after your interview I decided I should try giving a bit more precedence to personalities for a change. After all, skills can be taught and mastered over a lifetime; personalities can be worked and molded for an eternity and remain incomplete.”

I was unsure how to reply, but luckily there was no need. We had come to a grand entrance, and as the guards held the door open, a cacophony unlike anything I could fathom pounded my eardrums. We were let into a circular room, at least 300 hooves in diameter, that was terraced upwards from the center out. Celestia and I made our way over to her seat, which took up a pedestal near the outer edge of the room. In the center of the room was a small open space for the speakers, and the rest of the room was seating.

Personally, it amazes me how loud the nobility can be. So many were masters of pessimism, finding something to get angry about when they lived without a single care. Were it not for a character at the head of it with the poise and wisdom of Celestia, it would collapse in a moment. Why the general assembly was necessary, I could never say for certain. Even Celestia’s justification for the assembly seems insufficient. Regardless, it was there, it was loud, and it was terrible almost every time.

When Celestia took her seat and I stood beside her, the crowd – or mob, as I would be more inclined to write – quieted themselves down. When the room was silent, Celestia began, “Thank you all for coming. I would first like to introduce our new princess’ attendant, May Flower.”

I blushed and bowed, and was met with a small applause. One mare, however, stood up.

“The assembly recognizes Flair from Canterlot,” Celestia said evenly.

“Thank you, princess. I think the assembly would like to know a bit more about Lady Flower than her name. Where is she from? What is her prior experience?”

“Thank you for asking, Lady Flair. May Flower is the daughter of our esteemed castle gardener, Wintergreen. She has a strong background in caretaking, and is very quick to learn.”

I remember that caused quite a stir. Murmurs swept through the room like a crashing wave, but Flair’s voice rang clearly still, “We beg your pardon, your majesty, but you mean to say you’ve hired a gardener to do the work of a politician? I am certain there were more viable candidates.”

The princess only smiled. “Not one applicant was more suited to my needs than May Flower.”

“With all due respect, princess, the attendant is meant to fulfill more needs than your own.”

“You are correct, Flair. That is why I am training her in all the other roles she is expected to fill. You need not fear for her. Rest assured, the skills she already possesses are paramount to all others.”

Flair gave a begrudging, “Very well, princess,” and sat back down.

“Now,” Celestia began, “let’s get to more pressing matters . . .”

However, the matters were hardly pressing. General assembly rarely got too much done, mainly because every single noble out of a couple hundred felt like it was their divine duty to voice their opinions, even if those opinions had been iterated at least twenty times. That was the nature of the general assembly. It was loud, it was slow, but it had its uses, chiefly to get Celestia informed of more public opinion, even if it was only a sample of the nobility. Although I cannot recall exactly who spoke and what happened, I know for a fact that nothing was accomplished.

When the assembly finally adjourned, Celestia and I went to dinner. This time, they served fruit salads. While we ate, Celestia asked, “How was the defense council?”

“It was fine. They’re split between reinforcing the changeling borders and keeping our soldiers stationed near the ‘feudal states.’ They seemed pretty peeved that you’ve been neglecting their meetings, your highness.”

“Indeed? Who did you talk to?”

“I spoke with Bullrush afterwards, and he said he’d send me some materials so I could make more informed decisions.”

“You made friends with Bullrush?”

“I suppose so, yes.”

“Interesting. I thought you’d make nice with Aegis first. He’s a bit less . . .”

“Aggressive, my princess?”

“Precisely. Well done, regardless. It’s hard to get on anyone’s good side in that room.”

“It was more necessity than anything, your highness. They need me to break the tie. Why haven’t you been going to their meetings?”

“You tell me, May. What could I have to gain by avoiding those meetings?”

“Free time? Time to go to other meetings?”

“Perhaps, but even then, the defense meetings are a bit high-stakes to avoid just for the sake of free time, May. Think harder. Why would I want those men in a deadlock?”

“You don’t want any action to be taken?”

“Without me to break the ties, they cannot break status quo. If we greet the new changeling queen’s reign with open suspicion, we could earn ourselves a visit from the greatest infiltration force in the land. We already have soldiers down there trained specifically to spot changeling disguises. Adding any other non-specialists would only add unfamiliar faces to that mix, making the professionals’ jobs harder, and starting off public relations on a negative note.”

“Then why not vote on Aegis’ side?”

“Once again, to hold the status quo. By keeping them pinned on this issue, they can’t go around focusing on other policies to change. Those stallions rarely like to vote for keeping things the same. Because more than two motions can be brought to the table, I would often end up with one supporter for keeping things the same, while the others would come to a 3 vs. 4 vote on changing policy one way or another. Very irritating, considering our military situation hasn’t changed for the past century.”

“What feudal states were they referring to, princess?”

“They usually refer to the Griffon Kingdoms. We always keep a sharp eye on them because they are so politically unpredictable. Although there are some that have remained impressively stable and have been our allies for centuries, there are many more who change kings every few months. To station our troops there is both a measure against hostile kingdoms as well as a way to keep our aid close to allied kingdoms.”

“I see.”

“Also, about that lady in the assembly, Flair, be watchful of her.”

“Why, princess?”

“Because sometime between when I hired you and general assembly, she managed to find out who you were, and made sure the court knew you were an inexperienced politician. She wouldn’t have asked those questions unless she knew the answers.”

“What would she have to gain by bringing that up?”

“She hinted at it when she spoke. She was trying to make me look irresponsible and selfish for hiring you, since you’re all care and no politics right now.”

“Why are these ponies so manipulative?”

“They all have something they want to happen. A few of them like Flair even want a new leader of Equestria, though the older members tend to understand that there’s just nobody else who’s willing to deal with them.”

“That’s ridiculous. Who would even take over?”

“They always go on about a democratic election. However, none of them seem too keen on trusting the common folk to elect a ‘proper’ leader. They want nobility to have more weight in the election process, which simply won’t do.”

“Why not just give them the democratic elections, with equally weighted voting?”

Celestia looked up for a moment, took stock of those who might overhear the conversation, and whispered, “This is a question to be answered in private.”

I nodded, and finished my meal. Silently, we left the table, and went up the stairs to the princess’s room. Once she had the door firmly shut behind us, her horn glowed a bright gold for a moment, and a matching aura danced over the door for a moment before vanishing.

“Now we have privacy,” Celestia said.

“Why the secrecy?”

“It’s best not to talk about political revolution in public areas where your enemies can get ideas.”

“Fair enough.”

“While I think democracy would be a good system for this nation, I’m worried about where it could go wrong. I’ve been leading Equestria alone for nearly a thousand years now, and I would prefer it not get ruined by somebody else who can woo the people with lies. I’d like to think I do a good enough job around here to keep monarchy relevant.”

“Why do you put up with the nobles anyway? Couldn’t you rule with just the councils you have set up?”

“Theoretically, yes. Practically, no.”

“What do you mean? That one you were talking to during open council didn’t even have anything worth saying! He just stood and complained!”

“I know,” she said, with a small frown, “and it’s quite possibly the worst part of my day. However, I hold open council so that everyone knows that if they want to talk to me, they need only make the trip. There were others that came before Blueblood, more ordinary ponies, that actually had some useful things to say. When people know that the princess is willing to sit through the most ridiculous complaints imaginable, they’re a lot more likely to bring their more valid complaints forward.”

“It’s so much work though. Does it really pay off?”

“I cannot say. I do it more in the spirit of knowing and listening to my people. I may be experienced, but I cannot steer Equestria well unless I know what’s going on outside the castle.”

“I see.”

“And May?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t worry about the politics too much. You’ll get the hang of it, so long as you keep asking ‘why this?’ and ‘why that?’.”

“Of course, your highness. In the meantime, is there any way I can help you?”

“Not yet, May. You’ll need a lot of information to help me, and I’m still working on getting it straight in my head. All I ask is that you are ready for tomorrow.”

“Of course, princess.”