Chapter 7
“Hi, Blueblood. Been a while, hasn’t it? Sorry I missed you at the Gala. And Cadance’s Wedding, too,” Princess Twilight Sparkle frowned.
Princess Twilight Sparkle. Yes, it had been a while, thought Blueblood Polaris, Lord High Steward of Equestria. Back when you were Twilight Sparkle. Back before the Summer Sun Celebration that changed Equestria. Back when we were practically neighbours. Back when I knew you. Back when you didn’t have wings.
Wings.
Wings were a peculiar thing. With two simple appendages a unicorn was elevated to a position above any other pony. Wings. Wings had melted his father’s cool exterior whenever he looked at Cadance when he only had nothing but the frigid north for his only son and heir. Wings and a horn concurrently possessed by the same pony set them apart, his father had taught him. His father had also told him the realm always came before emotions, and he’d tried his damnedest to be an obedient son.
“It has been, hasn’t it? Now, the other Princesses have asked me to brief you on Canterlot and give you a quick run-down on the details of Equestrian Government.”
“Sure!”
“Now, to save time, would you mind telling me what you know of the Stable?”
“It’s 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. Some of the peerage seats are given to certain lines, while some are elected by their fellow peers. The Stable is divided into fluid groups, known as the Government, the Opposition and the Independents. The independents are the largest group, while the Government and the Opposition are smaller.”
It was as much knowledge as he had expected the Princess to know. Twilight Sparkle had always liked reading, he remembered, he knew. He had liked watching her read, partly because nopony else ever did. He’d once caught her reading a political encyclopaedia with difficulty, and helped her out then, back when he sat on the Council but before his father’s death. Back before things went flank-end over.
It wasn’t enough, however, not if Princess Twilight were to become Princess in more than name. She was clever, and she wasn’t Cadance who spent half her time in the Crystal Empire. She would make things difficult.
“Good. You should also be aware that the strength of any group within the Stable depends highly upon how charismatic and convincing the leader of a group there is.”
Wings. He supposed it was fitting. Princess Twilight had saved the country, what, four times already? Her destiny undoubtedly involved becoming an alicorn, while his was undoubtedly to be filled with nothing but mediocrity. Two alicorns in a century, what were his chances? Nothing but mediocrity, chained to a thankless job in a country that hated him. He should have seen it coming, really. Princess Celestia had always lavished attention on her.
“Right, got that down,” she said after scribbling a few things down on a list. “You’re the Lord High Steward, aren’t you, Blueblood?”
“Indeed I am. As Lord High Steward, I have the authority to hold Court and pass judgement, but with four Princesses that won’t come up too much, hopefully. I also generally run the country on a day-to-day business – policy is dealt with by the Princesses, as are major foreign affairs issues – so the daily minutiae and stuff are dealt with by yours truly. I have authority, second only to the Princesses, over tax collection, distribution of titles and the state of land, and a hoof in a various number of other things. I also run the Stable as the Leader of the Stable. It’s my job to make sure that the Stable doesn’t do anything too stupid, calm them down when they panic, and that it passes bills we want passed. By extension, I also run the Civil Service, for all intents and purposes.”
I keep the troops in line. I keep the country running. I keep the country running when there’s a crisis. I keep the country running when you’re off saving the world, I keep it running after that fact.
“I thought Raven did that?”
“She’s the official head of the Civil Service, yes. However, I sort of act as an intermediary between the Civil Service and the Princesses. I make sure nothing too stupid happens so it doesn’t filter up the chain, make sure policy is actually carried out, deal with the more monotonous stuff, and act a bit forceful in the Princesses’ place so they don’t have to.”
So they don’t need to, was the sentiment. I clean up for them. It’ll be the same for you.
“That’s a lot of work, Blueblood. Are you sure you’re holding up alright?”
The reply was by reflex.
“I make do and I have to, Princess.”
With some effort, Blueblood looked at the figure behind him. Shining Armor was slightly tipsy, to put it lightly. He hadn’t really meant to get Shining Armor drunk, but apparently in the process of offering Applejack a bottle of cider he’d left the case open, and Shining Armor had taken the opportunity to consume three bottles of alcohol over the course of the meeting. He hadn’t heard of Shining Armor drinking in the past few days, so perhaps it wasn’t the wisest thing to do. Nonetheless, Shining Armor was a tough fellow, Blueblood had to give him that, and he still had his mental faculties about him, just about.
Talking with Applejack was Armor’s idea, anyway, and Blueblood felt he had no reason to expect Armor to get drunk in the first place, prevailing circumstances besides. For some reason it reminded him of himself, five days earlier. Tired, blue eyes, matted white coat, untrimmed fetlocks. It reminded him too much of himself.
Years ago, in the flank-end of nowhere, Blueblood had resolved never to become like Shining Armor. Too good with the troops, too familiar, too much lacking in propriety. Improper and brash, intractable, lacking in subtlety. Part of him probably hoped that Shining Armor would never become like him. That Cadance would never marry someone like her wretched brother. He had objected to the betrothal, because he had to. He didn’t think Armor to be worthy of her, because it was politically adroit and because it was expected of him.
Blueblood knew he’d been a shit brother who ignored his sister’s dalliances because they were the only way she could find joy. That was probably why he resorted only to shouting at Armor, and never resorted to anything else. Anything else Father would have done. Nonetheless, he had felt that Shining Armor had earned his enmity in some ways, with the failures to defend Canterlot and the Crystal Empire contributing greatly.
Let’s not commit the several divisions waiting on the border. Let’s instead go in on hoof, with your sister and her friends, with the end result of throwing my sister to deal with King Sombra?
There were conflicts in military doctrine too, along with some things which were largely petty in nature. But now, as Blueblood stared back into the empty grey shell of a Guard-issue tin mug which had served with him on Blank Suzerain, Blueblood supposed that he’d only lain into Shining Armor that much because he was an easy target, one who’d limit his blows by virtue of being his brother-in-law and an entry into the Royal Household. An easy target because of factors out of his own control and because of the constant stress that came on and on again with every, unfailing crisis.
All things considered, not the most accomplished stallion in trying not to be an easy target.
“Come on Shining,” he said softly, rising from his seat. “Let’s not talk logistics and get you back to your quarters.”
Shining Armor mumbled a response. “Yeah, I s’pose…”
That was where they were different. Shining Armor, despite being a perfect soldier, was one to wear his emotions, and to an extent his weaknesses, on his sleeve, and Blueblood tried very much not to.
Lifting a white hoof over his shoulder, Blueblood tugged at Armor and starting pulling him towards the door. It wouldn’t do if the Prince of the Crystal Empire were drunk the day the Stable met. It wouldn’t do if Shining Armor were to break five days after the Princesses went missing. It wouldn’t do. Despite Armor’s mild protests, Blueblood assisted him to his quarters, taking the back corridors where he knew no-one would see, and timing it so that no servants would do so either. Eventually Armor had regained enough of his wits to shake off Blueblood’s hoof and move without swaying. Blueblood had accompanied him, nonetheless.
The last thing he needed was the servants gossiping about Armor failing to hold it together.
By the time they reached the Cadance and Shining Armor’s departments, Royal Intelligence having since cleared out two days earlier, the only ones who saw them were a few staff who Blueblood would know would keep quiet, for whatever reason it did not matter, and a few Guards who would do the same. Two of those were standing guard outside the Royal Apartments.
Lance corporal Flash Sentry and Corporal Worn Barrel, both of the First Regiment of Solar Guards.
Reliable enough to keep quiet.
The two Princes filed into the greatest and most secure set of rooms in the Castle, the heart of Equestrian power. Blueblood made an effort not to look around. It was empty, and completely, utterly devoid of noise. The last time it was this quiet, Nightmare Moon had shown up, delivered an ultimatum and sent Canterlot into a panic. He hadn’t been in here when Tirek had shown up. There’d been far too much work back then. Like now. If anything, by being here he was wasting time which could be spent on other matters.
“What are you doing?” came Shining Armor’s voice out of nowhere.
Blueblood caught himself. What was he doing? He had followed Shining Armor into the quarters Armor shared with Cadance, and had subconsciously began to look for bugs.
I suppose there’s a time for honesty sometimes.
“Checking for bugs. You know, just in case REI did something they’d regret.”
“Why do you care?”
Blueblood shrugged. He hadn’t quite thought of a reason why when he started doing it, and chose not to reply. He continued doing so; Armor hadn’t really protested, and besides, there was something vaguely satisfying and easy about doing it. The decorations, too gaudy for his own tastes, were less so. The pictures were not.
“Comes down to tomorrow, does it?” asked Armor again. Blueblood turned and looked the other unicorn in the eye. The Captain of the Guard was sitting, cradling a picture of him and his wife between his hooves.
Damn soft for a soldier. Then again, who am I to judge?
There was it again, his pride meddling when it would be more prudent to suppress it.
“Quite. Confidence in the Government, and all that. We’ve never had a crisis that has lasted longer than four days in the past decade. Still blind and adrift, as usual.”
Like you, Blueblood.
“Are you sure we can’t… ask Discord?”
Blueblood intercepted him before Armor could continue. “Of course we can’t. The last time we entrusted him with security of the Equestrian state, he threw it away. No, this is something I have to do. No, something we must do.”
Discord probably knows what’s going on too, perhaps more than we do. If he hasn’t done anything, we’ll have to hope it’s for the best, then. Besides, Captain-General, you yourself know the lack of merits in trusting Discord. You should know the lack of merit in taking the easy way out. The lack of sense, the lack of honour, the lack of worth.
“The long game? Those chairs empty, for whoever knows how long?”
If this is our course, then let us see it finished.
“I’m… afraid so, Shining.” He paused. “We ponies are a tough bunch. We’ve survived for so long, haven’t we? Before the Princesses came, we’ve stood as a state, for however long that was.”
It was pseudo-inspirational guff, really. Stuff thought up on the spot, as his brain ran through possibilities and necessities and past precedent.
“Do you really believe that?”
Blueblood’s reply caught in his throat. Did he? He let out a long, tired sigh. He didn’t know what so say. It was historically true, so yes, or at least he believed it was true. As for whether the current leadership, he didn’t know. Equestria had changed since the three races had come together. The three lines were nothing but glorified bureaucrat-politicians with greater influence than most. Nothing that could hold to the alicorns, who brought together the aspects of all three races. If he were worthy, then he wouldn’t be here, would he? If he were worthy, then he could have been born with them like Cadance. If he had become worthy, then he would have gained them like Twilight.
Wings. Why had he hated them so? Had he hated them? It couldn’t be because he wanted to escape, surely not. Blueblood was duty, it was in the implication of the bloody name. It was duty that kept him here, though to be honest, he wouldn’t go anyway. It wasn’t as if he was good at anything else, and there was always a grim kind of satisfaction in doing his duty.
It was the fear, yes it had to be fear, the fear that they would end up like him, with an unshielded view of power at its darkest, with a hoof in every dark deal and an eye in every corner and a mind which had seen every dark act in Canterlot and beyond. The slow corruption of a mind into a suspicious, jealous wreck that saw threats at every corner and whose first instinct was to lie and throw stupidly complex plans or brutally efficient solutions at them until they no longer cast a shadow. A bitterness hidden behind plain disagreeability in public, a paranoia hidden by jumpiness. Perhaps that was Father had allowed Cadance to do as she did, while forbidding his son from doing so. Perhaps he would have told him, had he not died of complications from the wounds he had sustained in battle so many years ago.
Perhaps Armor was similar? A career soldier, that was certain. Yet one overshadowed by both his wife and his younger sister. Massively so, in fact. Even if Armor hadn’t borne any resentment, which may have been true enough, he must have felt something after those occasions. Especially with his position persistently frustrated by rumours of inadequacy.
“We’ll be fine, Armor.”
“Guess I expected that… You never learn, do you?” Shining Armor slurred. “For all that intellect, for all that ‘competence’, you never learn.”
He turned to leave. “Good evening, Shining Armor.”
Once outside, Blueblood let out a rasping sigh, controlled as best he could to deaden it. Blankly, he made for his quarters, departing with a whispered command to the Guards on duty.
“A slight excess of alcohol, gentlestallions. Have the doctors check over him, if you can. See that he doesn’t do anything stupid before tomorrow.”
Blueblood threw himself down into his chair again, eyes rolling listlessly, eyes consistently blinking in a vain effort to maintain some effort of conscious thought. The caffeine would wear off soon, but he had a few precious minutes left before he would turn in.
Unrest boiling up, he tore off his tie as quickly as he could and threw it into his wardrobe. Armor was bloody right. They’d all said it to his face one way or another, and despite what he sought Celestia’s hoof-picked couldn’t be wrong together.
In the past few days he’d gone back to who he’d been. Who his father had been. A pony who saw graft and sinecures and corruption and lying as mere tools. Long ago part of him hated it, but he had suppressed it since.
That suppression was starting to wear on his strength, it was obvious now.
He hadn’t been so damnably conservative once. He’d once been sure of who he was. He couldn’t quite remember when exactly he last did that, and it irked him somehow. There was some reason why he had brought all of this on himself, all of the responsibilities and all of the pain, and he couldn’t quite understand here and now.
Did you all set this up so that I could fail? I questioned that once, but now I can only throw it up again, for I know not what else. What have I done to offend you all so?
Was he so horribly unfit for command? He hoped not. Or had it been the apathy of the past few years who had heaped it on time and time again that had drowned him so?
It couldn’t have been simply the graft, the sinecures, the corruption, the lying. Those were only tools. Illegal in the spirit of the law but not illegal by the law. Everypony else used them, so the Government was obliged to do the same in order to maintain itself. The Princesses hadn’t really raised an eyebrow at it, either. Mild disapproval, but Celestia knew what sometimes had to be done. Equestrian dominance wasn’t cleanly obtained and she had more than a hoof in it.
Or is it simply that I have erred and failed of my own accord, without Your machinations and schemes? Is that it? For what reason? Surely I have not lacked in effort or vigour. In heart, perhaps, but surely not in outcome? If not in heart, then perhaps in method? If not in method, then perhaps in action?
There were so many damned questions.
But then, while you listened, you never asked, either. But would you have done anything about it, either?
Princesses, it was true. When was the last time he had actually sought advice and carried it out? He’d grown complacent out of apathy, out of self-loathing. That had sunk in between the gaps like molten metal, burning and searing their way through, then the icy winds of dread of each crisis had frozen them shut, clogging arteries and clogging thought.
But had there been time in the first place? There were plans after plans after plans, redundancies, back-ups, back-ups of back-ups, with every crisis every lie to be remembered and to be kept going. Part of him had once enjoyed the thrill of manipulation but it had long since lost its lustre. Duty kept him going. Duty would keep him going. Still, a ship could keep going so long the wind was constant, or while its propulsion functioned, but there would be no direction.
I’m a soldier of Equestria, a soldier of Equestria, a line on the rolls, a figure in the tables, a branch on the tree…
That wasn’t true. His responsibilities, his duties set him apart.
No, I’m Blueblood, chained and sworn from birth to carry the duties and responsibilities of a noble. No, I’m Polaris, bright as the damned North Star, a guide to those below me, unfailing in any tempest. No, I’m a Platinum, that old dogged line which has never failed to do what was necessary, never failed to act.
I’m Head of the Royal Exploratory Corps, plotter of distant and foreign lands so that subsequent generations may know less peril. I’m an officer of the Guard, Colonel-in-Chief of the Platinum Knights, sworn in service to the Princesses, to Equestria and to my men. I am Duke of Canterlot, Duke of Rearingsburg, Marquess of Ostarrein, Count of Vladimare, Lord of Stalliongrad, sworn liege, protector and defender of thousands across the country. I am the Prince of Unicorns, sworn to protect the dignity and persons of all unicorns, no matter their condition.
Princesses, if it were only so easy.
The words came so bloody easily, learned by rote once he could understand basic speech. He had thought himself becalmed at sea once.
So we maintain. Our oaths are kept. Sworn to serve.
To whom? Ourselves?
I am a Prince of the Realm whose one and only dedication should be the preservation of Equestria and the preservations of all ponies and others who dwell peacefully in it. A sword, a shield, a judge, a guide.
Had the family been so blind? To condemn its first sons in such a way consistently, unfailingly, for centuries? Princess Celestia hadn’t objected. Or had she, and had she merely given up after centuries of failure too? Or had she persevered, and was the main line so blindingly stupid to miss it?
It would make an amusing irony, had he the humour for it. The Princess of Love, born to the most heartless family in Equestria. Had his House not been crucial in the unification of the equine races?
But then, it had been Star Swirl the Bearded who did that initially, not Princess Platinum.
Noblesse oblige. The responsibility of command. His family had carried the burden without public complaint, and he had done so too, but, he realised, what worth was that responsibility if one were dead. Death was dereliction of duty in its own way, too, if he died before his time. He felt something prick at his eyes, he wasn’t sure what, he wasn’t sure why. Yet he asked himself, over and over again, had his family, the most cynical of Equestrians, been so distressingly naïve? So damned absolute in their self-teaching that they were throwing their lives away for no reason, throwing themselves away in some haze of self-satisfactory glory? He couldn’t countenance that, no, no…
Over fifty-two of the Princes were known. Hundreds of other siblings had done the same. They’d all served Equestria as best as they could, they couldn’t have been so flawed in their outlook? They’d all been Lord High Steward, the last pony before the gate, the last barrier before the Princesses. They’d all paid for it on their own way. Custodians and Defenders of Equestria unto death and beyond.
He buried his head in his hooves.
Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt.
Oh Princesses, if only…
He couldn’t fail, not unless he wanted the efforts of thousands before to go to waste. He couldn’t fail, because over fifty generations of his predecessors watched down on him. He couldn’t fail, because of the millions living and the millions to come depended on him.
Those duties he could be willing to carry. Damn his… damn his unicorn pride, damn his Platinum pride. So very long ago Father had told him that the Platinums had been prepared to kneel to do their duty, and they had, so the Platinums were forever in servitude to the Celestial Sisters, as he was. What was his pride compared to that, in retrospect? Comparatively, he had no Kingdom, no vassals to watch over, no freeholders to protect, no family to ransom…
But you do, don’t you Blueblood? Except that State is at its largest and most prosperous.
Equestria was far older than he was, and his line’s value lay predominantly during its length of existence. Yet even Equestria, even the Platinum Line shifted and moved, so what was he to resist, to chafe, to question necessity?
But that isn’t all, is it?
He’d been too proud to let people in. He’d been too paranoid to do anything but control. He’d been too politically pragmatic to let potential rivals develop. He’d been too perplexed by his own nature that he had only ruined it further by excess of alcohol and shortage of sleep. He’d been too perturbed at the signs of failure that he had only acted to cover it up rather than seek assistance.
Politically it was unfailingly obvious. Pragmatically it was correct. Practically he had no choice.
He couldn’t change. Not massively. He was too set in his ways, and he had a reputation to uphold. Bitterness could not be resolved in a night, nor could old hatreds. Equestria couldn’t afford self-doubt, but it couldn’t afford wilful neglect, either. But perhaps, perhaps he could make an effort to do so in other ways. He didn’t know whether he could keep it, but he would make an effort to do so.
No. He had to.
“If the Honourable Gentlestallion were as in favour of defence expenditure as he is now but a year ago, this may very well not have happened, now would it?! And would the Honourable Gentlestallion here allow me to correct him in stating that Equestrian forces not only formed a perimeter around Canterlot within two hours of the start of the attack, preventing an attack elsewhere, but that a counterattack was already well underway by forces within the city by the time the Changeling Queen was defeated. If you weren’t listening earlier: that is the truth, sir, because I am no coward, because I was there, in the frontlines, unlike you! Equestria’s defence is our foremost priority, despite your kind’s bids to cut its funding!”
The Prince slunk back into his seat with practiced, lackadaisical ease as the Government benches and a number of independents jeered, cheered, laughed and applauded his opponent into submission. Despite the uneven jubilation on his ‘side’, it wasn’t exactly what the Princesses wanted of him – admittedly, Princesses Celestia and Luna were at loggerheads, so he was running off the latest set of instructions – but withstanding that he was running DC and any victory in the Stable was a good thing.
It was exhausting. It was exhausting, not that he would deign to tell anypony. The Stable had demanded an Inquiry, and it had every right to. Canterlot had practically fallen, most of the Stable was present in the city when it happened, and now everypony was screaming their heads off in godawful ways about defence expenditure when it were a taboo subject mere days before The Wedding. The Prince’s role was to hold the gate while the Captain of the Guard was honeymooning with Cadance, the real one, and beat off every attempt to undermine the Government and confidence in it, both in and outside the Stable of Peers. It was an interesting function, being sniped at by every opportunistic guttersnipe and forgetful gambler in lieu of his new brother-in-law defending a position which was ‘sticky’ at best. Naturally the inevitable Committee would have to be filled with MESPs who didn’t know anything about the subject who would release a report which was a waste of money and cause only the minutest of changes.
There was support for the Government, but not nearly enough of the requisite kind, the pliable kind that could be relied upon to pass the bills the Government wanted. An agitated Stable that didn’t know better would pass committee-approved bills of questionable use. Part of his job was to make sure that was the case, and it wasn’t, to put it lightly. A few of the Government’s own – serving Peers and ex-serviceponies like Lord Havoc Drumbeat and Butyraceous Hammer – were getting their knives in, and they sank deep with razor-sharp arguments and an eye for detail most in the Stable lacked, going right for the top instead of the ‘easy’ targets that were Blueblood and Shining Armor. Unlike the rest, they would not necessarily forget in a hurry, and Blueblood would have to take them aside and actually placate them.
There was no other possible course of action. Actions like burying Princess Luna’s initial gut instinct to ban The Magic Flute while surreptitiously whistling the signature aria in one’s free time were relatively easy. Going around the Princesses’ back and allowing wide-ranging treasury-draining internationally-alarming military reforms to go ahead, especially when the year’s budget, one riding off policies aimed at soothing the doves, had already been approved, was not. The Guard would have to tighten its belt for the time being, what with the economy starting to show signs of distress.
That was not something he agreed with, something he had questioned in Council, like so many things in the past week. He hoped that his superiors knew better than he, he who was so short-sighted and so wrong at times. There was a point in not charging off into the Badlands in an attempt at revenge, admittedly.
With sufficient fortune, perhaps the Guard could get its own house in order; the blight could not be irreparable, for Equestria still remained at the end of the day. Half a year of peace might allow for intensive manoeuvres and commissions that might actually go somewhere. By then, Blueblood hoped, the Government would have the ball back in its court and capable of dictating reform on its own terms. By then, Blueblood hoped, there’d still be enough support for it.
“Sir?”
Blueblood glanced up from his desk as he finished taking a sip of tea. The night had come and gone, and with the dawn came an unusual but not unwelcome sense of certainty. A sense of impetus and tenacity that was long missing. That was good, even if it were to be short-lived. In one of his rare moments of civility Father had called it “being in the slot”. It had been easier to get into stride back when crises didn’t occur on such a frequent basis, back when there was breathing time and some knowledge of what was occurring. The lack of information had troubled him, and now it galled him how the recent events could drive him so far off the path of solid administration.
The past few days had given enough material for Blueblood to doubt the competence of his subordinates, but the previous night’s introspections had brought issues up. Blueblood had always attempted to keep a hoof in everything because, in truth, he only really trusted himself to do something properly. With reflection, perhaps this had resulted in stunted development of his subordinates, resulting in less-than-desired levels of competence? One of his tutors had stressed that there was a difference between talking to someone and talking with someone. In hindsight Blueblood had done too much of the former and too little of the latter. Being dumped in at the deep end hadn’t turned out perfectly for him.
Now, perhaps that wasn’t the optimal arrangement. It could lead to talks of a coup. Armor had brought that up, and Blueblood hadn’t initially paid much heed to it. He kicked himself inwardly. He’d spent slightly too much time dealing with the conservatives and reactionaries, and hoped the momentum of Princess Twilight’s victory over Tirek would keep the moderates and modernisers happy. Moving Serene over to the Crystal Empire for a month or two was now a certainty, given the fact that Fumigating Ocelot was preparing to go ahead, and given that the Yaks had to be kept in line.
“What is it, Letter?”
“General Thunderclap’s waiting outside, sir. Should I send him in?” Her large eyes showing the effect of exhaustion, Golden Letter looked as tired as Blueblood felt. Then again, she was probably also working the night shift as well. The Civil Service had finally gotten its act together and the paperwork was slowly making its way to Blueblood’s offices.
Blueblood frowned. “Give me a minute, Letter. And thank you.”
Part of Blueblood dreaded what Thunderclap was going to say. After all, it had not been a week since Thunderclap had forced his way into the Prince’s office and informed him of the Princesses’ disappearance. Yet the grey old soldier saw fit to wait, so perhaps there was little to be thought of it.
"You wanted a word, Thunderclap?"
"Aye, sir," declared the taciturn officer as he approached the Prince. "Hate to have to point it out to you, sir, but we're all on your side. All of us, sir. Even Raven, even Shining Armor."
Their loyalty to Equestria was certain, that he did not need Augustus Thunderclap to point out. But loyalty to him? That he did not particularly believe with a great deal of certainty. Still, as the old warhorse spoke another manoeuvre started to form in the Prince’s mind.
"All that matters is Equestria, sir, and we're prepared to follow you."
"Why?"
"Ain't no bugger else. Argent's too weak - too much of a gentlecolt to rule properly - and Serene's got enough problems in Trottingham as it is. Armor would never gain the support of the old unicorn houses, even if the military would follow him. You haven't broken yet, and that's a good sign, if I might add, sir."
Haven’t I, Thunderclap? Haven’t I?
Blueblood looked up at the scarred unicorn before him, and let out a rasping sigh. "You haven't properly answered my question, CEGS. Your statement merely implies that you follow me out of necessity rather than choice."
“I’m here out of my own choice, aren’t I? General or not, I still hate mornings.” Thunderclap grunted. "Your father was a blunt bugger. First time I met him, I was a Colonel. Eastlock Campaign. Griffon mercenaries and the diamond dogs raiding up and down the Eastern Mountains."
"I thought you were a General back then?"
"Naa," Thunderclap said dismissively. "'Was far too young. But before the last battle, your father came to me. 'Thunderclap,' he called. Threw the epaulettes at me. 'Brevet General, Thunderclap. Hold the right.' That was all he said."
"'Hold the right", repeated Thunderclap. "Those three words was all that was needed. So, the next day, I took the right flank and held whilst he smashed the brigands into the dirt. When your father spoke, everypony took heed, even if you did not understand. And you're just like him."
Thunderclap's words were met with blank silence from the Prince.
"You know, he always insisted upon sparring every morning. Every morning, he would go and thrash those stupid enough to take him up on the challenge; when nopony took it up, he ordered them to. Every morning until he died, the old bastard. But they followed him, did as he demanded, and Equestria never faced such an attack ever again. But they didn't follow him because he was Lord High Steward, or because of his voice, or because he was the Unicorn Prince. They followed him not only because they respected him, but because he was a leader, even if he was crap with ponies."
"Now, Colonel! Look here, Colonel. Yes, Colonel, that was your rank in the Guards, wasn't it?! Your family has served Equestria since its very founding. You don't need wings! Now get your head out of your backside, screw your brain together properly and do what your House does best - LEAD. The sooner, the better, for both yourself and Equestria. You’re still young. You’ve seen through the return of Princess Luna, the defeats of Discord, Sombra and Tirek. Regardless, Equestria needs a stable hoof at the tiller, but that hoof won’t do if it’s dead or a wastrel. The Council counsels. It can rule, too."
“I will wear the charcoal suit,” Blueblood stated with finality as he looked over the rest of the Council as they stood in the Council Waiting Room. It was the day of the first meeting of the Stable since the Princess’ disappearance, after all, and the Council meeting had to be kept short. To Blueblood’s immense relief, there was, as of yet, no disaster in the making.
Blueblood himself, an overworked princely custodian of Equestrian dignity, the ill-fated firefighting factotum of Canterlot Castle. Shining Armor, a barrier magic prodigy presiding over Equestria’s greatest humiliations in at least a century. Serene Bloom, a sportsmare-turned-beancounter and occasional diplomat. Argent Typhoon, a country gentlestallion, career in the Guards and all. Augustus Thunderclap and Tidal Force, weary bandit and pirate hunters. Moonstone Shield, head spook from a line of prospectors. Raven, a proficient secretary periodically at daggers with the rest of the Civil Service for her lack of full Canterlot education. Frayed Inkwell, soldier-servant-secretary and universally jaded about it all. And Rarity, small-town seamstress who had a habit of butting into Canterlot and high society at every inopportune moment. Then there was Fancypants, not a part of the Council but influential enough; the son of a nearly-bankrupt bookkeeper.
Not Equestria’s finest, but it’ll have to do.
“Will you not at least wear the crown, this time, sir?” insisted Raven. “It’s traditional.” Celestia’s dark brown-maned Royal Secretary was not holding it well, with the nerves finally getting to her on the most important day of the week. It was unusual, Blueblood thought, but considering the things he had asked her to do earlier, which were technically stretching the law, it wasn’t entirely unreasonable. He could count on her loyalty to the realm, at the very least. Thankfully, as an untitled Civil Servant she would not have to attend the Stable, but Blueblood rather hoped that she would get over it. Inkwell was busy running through the Archives, after all, and Letter was already starting to take over some of his duties. Replacing Celestia’s Royal Secretary was not only politically disadvantageous but also left him in a quandary over who to replace her with.
Always one for procedure, weren’t you? Then again, Tirek never stopped you…
“No crown. I’d have enough things weighing me down already. Besides, it worked well enough with Tirek, didn’t it? And Nightmare Moon, and Sombra for that matter? Now, Armor, could I have a word? Privately?”
With a nod of acknowledgement, Armor followed Blueblood into the Council Chambers. There was some business to be had which did not require the knowledge or the involvement of the rest of the Council.
“Armor, you’ll be entering with me,” stated Blueblood as he pulled the door shut. “Two Princes alike in dignity, and all that. A united front. We will be using some of the First Solars and Lunars for this, no talk of a coup or anything stupid.”
There were other things which ought to be discussed, considering the day’s developments, considering the things Blueblood had done and was going to do before the Stable met, but there was no point agitating Armor even more. There was no need to make him even more concerned than he already was.
“Understood,” came Shining’s curt reply. The silence dragged on.
This is the bit where you offer sympathies, Blueblood. Can’t be much harder than hashing out a treaty or convincing a peer. Easier even, for despite what you tell yourself, you miss them too.
“Still miss them, don’t you?”
“… Yeah. Just doesn’t feel right.”
“I know what you mean.” He sighed. “Cadance, Aunt Celestia… Aunt Luna and Twilight…”
From a purely pragmatic point of view, their presences immensely improved Equestria’s standing and survivability. From a less pragmatic point of view, status quo was better than a crisis. From an even less pragmatic view, well…
Cadance and Aunt Celestia were family. Irritatingly optimistic and idealistic was the former, unfailingly calm was the latter, both endearing in their own way. He was beholden to them through blood. So he was to Princess Luna, and he’d eventually spent enough time with her to appreciate the Princess of the Night as a counterbalance to Princess Celestia, and quite good company whenever she chose to seek him out on non-business matters. That she deigned to acclimatise herself to the world a thousand years after her exile indicated that he was being stubborn about being overly paranoid and power-hungry, too. That was worthy of respect, no matter the initial uncivilities.
I suppose not getting the Royal Opera House to run The Magic Flute over the course of the Summer Sun Celebration, continuing to run it despite Nightmare Moon’s return, and attending every showing was perhaps not the best start.
As for Twilight, he’d tried not to resent her as much as he initially did. If anything, she was as a victim of circumstance as he was.
They’d been friends once, an extremely long time ago, before his father had put an end to any illusion of choice by dying. He’d tried to stay in contact before the Nightmare Moon incident and had been neck-deep in work and responsibilities and appearances to even keep in contact. He’d hoped, but had learned not to. Now he was going to kill a bill that would give her a Kingdom, so that put an end to that, and would probably garner quite a bit of animosity from the other Princesses too. But it was for the good of the realm, it was politically necessary, and he couldn’t see any way out of it. Not unless he worked some magic today and in the upcoming days.
But perhaps, my blood hath been too cold and temperate…
He turned and took a measure of his unicorn companion.
Strained cheeks, slightly grey coat. Just about keeping composure. Throwing himself into work to keep his mind off things. Sounds like somepony I know.
“They’ll be back, Armor, don’t you worry. They are Equestria’s finest, and you know as much as I do that they’ve been through stuff that has knocked us for six. If anything, they might be having an easier time at it than us.”
“I know… Just can’t help but… worry, I suppose.”
“Yeah.”
Out of his depth at the top table.
“I know you don’t like politics, I know you don’t like this, but I’ve got your back on this.”
“And I’ve got yours.”
Blueblood offered him his hoof. After a while, Armor shook it.
“It’ll be good when this is all over. When this is all over, Armor, you can go back to hating me for being an entitled jerk, I can go back to hating you for being too nice, and we can go back to fighting each other over departmental conflicts.”
“That isn’t how it works, Blueblood,” sighed Armor.
Most things are in equilibrium, Armor. They are not always driven to completion despite our intentions.
“Well, that’s for the future. When we get out of this, if we get out of this. Perhaps Cadance wasn’t entirely wrong… Anyway, Shining, we have work to do today, so grab your armour and let’s do some work.” Nods of agreement.
Well, at least we agree on something, this time. And let it never be said that Shining Armor lacks in effort, even if his results are found wanting. Let us resolve to ameliorate the latter.
“Is he always like this?” questioned Rarity in the background. “So… volatile? Mercurial?”
Argent was the only one to reply, with the other Council members fussing over some matter or another. Evidently, Rarity had attempted to pick on him on account of his severe, short-cut silver mane with faint blueberry secondary coloration and equally severe morning dress, which probably clashed with his blue coat or some such awful nonsense. He did so quietly, in hushed, strained tones which Blueblood had to strain to overhear. “Whenever there’s a crisis, yes.”
“What about the seating arrangements,” he heard Raven panic in the background. “He’s not an alicorn, so he can’t sit alongside the Princesses’ seats!”
“He needs to be in a position of authority, Raven,” objected Argent. “Once he’s confirmed as Regent, he can’t sit on the normal benches as he’ll have a legal position separate from the rest of the Stable.”
“But he doesn’t have wings! He can’t possibly sit on any of the Princesses’ thrones!”
Well, she had a few hours to calm down before the opening of the Stable. A quick glance at the other Council members, and Blueblood saw Force and Thunderclap engaging in awkward conversation using the absolute minimum number of words. In stark contrast, Serene and Moonstone verbosely discussed the state of the Crystal Empire and Equestria-Yakyakistan relations, with the former occasionally throwing coquettish looks of mild amusement over at the Prince of Unicorns.
Business as usual, then.
Head high, Prince Blueblood made his way out of the Council Chambers, tailed by Shining Armor.
There is a tide in the affairs of ponies, which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries .
Time to wield the arithmetic of power. Confidence, old boy. You’ve done this before. We’ve done it before.
I’ve no need of wings to puff me, by Celestia.
The Stable of Peers, though largely powerless, was a nonetheless important facet of the Royal Court and the Canterlot Establishment. For one, it allowed its elected members and the appointed nobility to speak relatively freely on the day's matters. This was different from petitioning the Princesses whenever they held court, as this relied heavily upon whichever Princess was holding court at the time, whether the supplicant had enough influence at court to get their petition to the Princesses, time constraints, and came with the inevitable, choking weight of court procedure and ritual. Additionally, the Stable theoretically held the power of regulating Government taxation, though in practice it only exercised its authority when it came to significant increases in taxation or extraordinary grants to be drawn at short notice. Even so, it exercised very little independence in these cases when it actually and rarely mattered. The relative 'freedom' of the Stable came at a cost: formal, organised bodies within it were discouraged, forcing the members to huddle together in fluid cliques that more often than not tended to buckle under pressure. The Leader of the Stable - typically a Prince of the Realm hailing from the Unicorn ('Platinum'), Hurricane ('Hurricane') or Puddinghead ('Ardent') lines - could thus exert inordinate power over the chamber.
Still, the Stable was that great organ of Equestrian discourse, and it was completely packed. No Peer or Member would miss this. Even a hospital bed in the chamber, Blueblood noted. The Count of Reinland, Equestrian Civil Servant, who had recently underwent gastric surgery. That loyalty was commendable, but Blueblood would be lying if he hadn’t privately been somewhat shocked at seeing him in the Chamber. He couldn’t ask him to leave, not even for his own health. He hoped they’d wheel him out as soon as possible. Knowing Reinland, however, he’d probably make as much of a scene of it as possible. Considering this, Blueblood wasn’t sure if there was anypony more dedicated to the Equestrian state who wasn’t a career soldier as Reinland, and it unnerved him slightly.
If I were any more careless, I would end up like him.
The Press would probably note it regardless. They were here too, in their great number, though thankfully the yellow press were at the back of the pack with the biggest papers in Equestria moving to the front of the gallery, along with every influential magnate of note. Glancing around the gallery Blueblood matched eyes with a tall, light-blue maned unicorn with a monocle who offered a slight nod. Hopefully nopony had caught ear of the problems with the Treasury, or indeed the problems with Ponyville. It would ruin the occasion. Easily deflected normally, but in front of the Press and every economic and industrial bigwig in the country it could prove problematic.
A quick glance outside. The Canterlot Fleet’s airborne heavy elements were out of their moorings, fully stocked and alert. Half of First Battle Squadron was technically on patrol, the other half was there for the salute, Second Cruiser Squadron was technically returning from patrols, First Reserves was technically moving off to work up elsewhere. Combat air patrols had been doubled. He’d spent enough time lurking about in the Naval Department to muddle up patrols and routes for this to conveniently occur. Force had been surprisingly pliant in the matter, too. Either that, or he hadn’t realised what Blueblood was doing. The more alert and knowledgeable ponies might notice the increased naval presence, but playing it off as extra security would be easy enough.
Good. There’ll be no repeat of the Changeling Invasion again.
Armor had done a good job with the Guards, a strengthened presence but not anything too alarming. Two Regiments of Solars and some sappers were down searching the cellars and caves under Canterlot, Armor had quietly mentioned. Blueblood also had the Platinum Knights on alert, just in case.
He hadn’t actually written a speech. If anything, it was supposed to be a normal meeting of the Stable, but everypony knew it wasn’t. It was half State Opening, half usual business. The mood of the Stable had to largely decide itself; there hadn’t been enough time to account for all eventualities. Not even earlier, when there’d been just enough time to shift a few words around on the bills being prepared and have the odd quick word with the occasional MESP. He’d hoped it was all worth it.
A suitably, appropriately confident, yet dismayed smile for the cameras, then on to it. The vigour and strength and the might of fifty-two generations.
“Noble Peers, Honourable Members of this Stable, my fellow ponies. I am here, with a heavy heart, to address you as not a Prince of the Realm, but a saddened brother and nephew. Four days ago, a most terrible event befell the Castle. Since then, the Princesses have fallen ill of a most troubling and saddening affliction, one which seems only to take alicorns in their grasp, and nothing else. To defeat this, Their Celestial Highness’ Government, the Canterlot Society of Magic and the Elements of Harmony have done and are doing their utmost to return our beloved Princess to full vigour. However, while we should have thoughts for them, the princesses who keep Equestria safe, we should also pay heed to ourselves. Far too often has Equestria fallen into despair.”
“I hear some of you muttering: what has Equestria done to deserve this? I cannot answer that. I hear you mutter: why have so many crises fallen upon Equestria in so short a time? I cannot answer that. But I say to you this: despite so many crises, have we not prevailed? Despite so many crises, have we not prospered? Despite the efforts of ancient foes, industrial growth continues. Despite the efforts of ancient foes, the spending power of the bit increases day by day. Despite the efforts of ancient foes, ponykind prospers unlike any time before.”
“Let us not give into the abyss of sadness. Let us resolve to maintain and improve an Equestria which the Princesses may be proud of when they rise from their beds once more. Let us resolve to build an Equestria which can stand tall again as it could in the past. The Princesses themselves have lain the solution for our troubles before us time and time again. Even Her Royal Highness Princess Twilight, youngest of the Princesses and younger than many of us here in this Honoured Stable, has shown to us that despair, not matter how overwhelming, cannot daunt any bold Equestrian. A mild affliction is nothing for Equestria to be troubled over. We owe the Princesses a great deal: we should see that their efforts are not squandered. Even now, in their sickbeds, they think nothing but of Equestria, of the safety, security and happiness of each of every one of you. Despair cannot destroy any bold Equestrian. Shall we act as undisciplined foals, panic-stricken before every obstacle that holds in our way? Shall we act as undisciplined foals, who uncontrollably quake in fear at imagined monsters in the dark? Or should we act as Equestrians we are, the heirs of Puddinghead, Hurricane and Platinum, honest stallions and mares all, worthy of our Princesses’ love?”
“My fellows, any state is better than despair. It is not wrong to worry for those you care for, for those whom you love, for those who have shielded you from every terror in the darkness. It is only wrong to let it overcome you, to overwhelm you. Look to the ponies beside you. Look to your friends, your family. Together, we have seen and endured much worse. Together, we have seen and endured the troubles of the past ten millennia in the span of a decade. Together, there is nought that can bring both us and the Princesses low, if we are nought but true to ourselves and to Equestria.”
Argent Typhoon shifted in his seat. To be honest, it wasn’t his seat. It was the seat he normally sat on, but it was where Blueblood normally sat. He’d sat here when dealing with Nightmare Moon, with Discord, with Sombra, with Tirek…
Now, confirmed by the Stable unanimously as Prince Regent, Blueblood sat with regal placidity in his usual seat below the dais where the Princesses’ thrones were. Shining Armor was next to him, with seldom-seen military coolness and all, in a simple wooden chair, also having been unanimously confirmed as Prince of the Realm but also as Vice-Regent. Enough for both to be elevated above the Stable, but not enough to be elevated above the Princesses. A typical move of Blueblood’s, but Argent hadn’t caught the bit of paper which had made Shining Armor joint diarch in name. He’d briefly matched eyes with Serene once the matter had come up for debate, and by his estimate he wasn’t the only one caught off-guard, though he’d had enough experience not to reveal this to anypony else.
The Pegasi had never had a good relationship with their politicians, and the history spoke for itself. When there was a hurricane on the way, or a griffon warband, or a collapsing cloud mine, the pegasi acted. Seized power, if necessary, but they acted. Personal feelings were left until later, where the Pegasi Assemblies inevitably devolved into petty squabbling, vetoing, filibustering and public resumption of blood feuds. That was how the office of vice-Regent was born: subordinate to the Regent, but capable of leading armies. More importantly, capable of vetoing, but only in person, the decisions of the Regent for the good of the realm.
A potentially cutthroat job, and one which Commander Hurricane had used to climb to the very top. It hadn’t existed in Equestria, but thanks to the legalese there was probably something in the Hearth’s Warming Treaty that allowed Blueblood to bring it up again.
Argent felt some relief at not being chosen as Vice-Regent, at least. Leader of the Stable could be troublesome enough as it was. The House of Hurricane had largely lost their domain over Cloudsdale, unlike the other two Great Houses. Trottingham, largest duchy of them all, was solely in the hooves of the Earth Line, which had quietly dropped ‘Puddinghead’ out of an attempt to be more socially respectable. Canterlot was the traditional capital of the Platinums, but they had ceded that to the Royal Demesne in return for the retention of their holdings in the Northern Territories, including the cities of Rearingsburg and Stalliongrad and the post of Lord High Steward. Simply put the Hurricanes didn’t have the money or the obvious clout to whip the Stable. Despite having sat as MESP for Cloudsdale and sitting as the incumbent Lord Commander of Cloudsdale Argent Typhoon didn’t like doing it.
And I don’t want Violet or the kids dealing with all of the backlash, either.
“Princes Regent, Lord High Steward, might I enquire as to what extent will the Regency Council determine long-term policy, and what this means for Equestria in the long term?” inquired Butyraceous Hammer, the fiery pegasus Senior MESP for Stalliongrad, his blackened hoof waving above the heads of his fellows. Argent started to rise to reply, but Blueblood waved him off with a minute glance he’d seen many times before back when Blueblood was sitting on the same bench as he, and the Prince Regent replied instead.
“We thank the Honourable Gentlestallion for his concern, and indeed his dedication to Equestria, and would be pleased to answer his inquiry, a most detailed and important one once again as This Stable would expect nothing less from him. The Regency Council is merely a continuation of Their Celestial Highnesses’ Government, and intends to carry out the policies as set forth in the most recent of the Princesses’ Addresses to their fullest. Their Celestial Highnesses’ Government does not see why the daily affairs of Equestrians near and far should be impacted in any way. Their Celestial Highnesses’ Government wishes to give the fullest assurance to This House and to Equestria that we shall do our utmost to ensure that the stability and harmony of the nation is maintained.”
A politician’s answer, but said with enough vim that it may have even been true. Argent had suspected that Blueblood was machinating behind his back. He had agreed to take up the post of Leader of the Stable, for Blueblood’s sake if anything, rather than his own. Yet he’d spent enough time with the Prince of Unicorns to know that the latter would not give up anything with ease, a trait which was admirable in some cases and absolutely infuriating in others. He was pretty sure Blueblood knew he knew Blueblood was machinating behind his back, and wished Blueblood would make his mind up about work and priorities. It was rather oafish and unbecoming of him.
The Bill to give Princess Twilight a new Kingdom been shelved by a backbench-proposed motion to postpone it indefinitely, with the mood of the Stable being that it wouldn’t do to give Princess Twilight more duties when she was fighting off some magical disease. Enough to give it a chance in the future, but no time soon. After all, a motion to reconsider the proposal in a year’s time had passed unanimously. It wasn’t dead, by any means. Blueblood had basically put it on ice, which was surprising, as Argent had expected him to do the easy (and arguably more politically prudent) thing and kill it by having it fail to pass. Nobody liked a motion to postpone indefinitely, as such motions left both sides unsatisfied, and it was rare enough to have them pass disregarding the two-thirds majority requirement. Then again, Argent supposed, Blueblood was Leader of the Stable for a reason when the Princesses were around. There was probably some long-term reasoning behind his methods.
A motion of support, by some newly-elected backbencher whose name Argent couldn’t quite place, to encourage solidarity in Equestria and offering full support for the armed forces and the Government despite the recent debacles, passed well over the two-thirds majority mark, as had various bills on Government spending.
Yes, this clearly had Blueblood’s hooves over it. Despite being the new Leader of the Stable, Argent didn’t expect Blueblood to keep his word on this matter. Then again, Blueblood hadn’t given his word that he wouldn’t interfere, ever.
Shining Armor didn’t like politics, and liked it even less with a headache rumbling through his head. That was Cadance’s job when it came to the Crystal Empire, as she was the Regnal Princess, not that there was particularly much of it to do over there. After a moment of utter, bewildered puzzlement which had stretched out to an age, Shining Armor resigned himself to having been confirmed by the Stable of Peers of Equestria as Vice-Regent of Equestria, and after Blueblood in the succession on account of his status as Prince Consort to Princess Cadance.
Princess, but I miss them. I wish they were here and not me. I wish that they were here, dealing with things I know little about, dealing with a unicorn whose possession of common sense is questionable. I wish that I didn't have to rely upon you to save the world over and over again.
Shining considered himself loyal to the Princesses, familial relations aside, so there was some concern about climbing that high. There was also a question of responsibility, of Equestria’s image on the global stage. Of the three ponies Blueblood could have chosen as a Vice-Regent – itself considered extremely unlikely, and Shining wasn’t entirely sure about what it all entitled – Shining thought himself as dead last, after Serene and Argent. There was probably some sense behind it all, but Shining couldn’t place why on Equestria Blueblood had decided to make him Vice-Regent. He was a career soldier, and despite his credentials knew nothing of politics, governance, diplomacy or trade. It had to be Blueblood, because nopony else would even consider it or have the ability to shift the paperwork so that it was even up for consideration. Either way, even as Vice-Regent Shining didn’t expect to wield nearly as much power as Blueblood. He didn’t have the influence, the political capital or the experience in ruling compared to the Prince of Unicorns, and the terms of the bills were convoluted enough for Shining to suspect that Blueblood had written a lot of power into his own position but not into Shining’s.
I’m not Blueblood, after all, nor Twiley neither. I’d need a few nights to read over that to get something approaching an understanding of the terms.
From a certain point of view, it gave him the time and authority to work on the military reforms as he wished, and without the Princesses looking over his shoulder he had more freedom in putting anything in. Princess Celestia ran a tight ship and there was rarely any room for wide-ranging military expenditure. There were reasons behind that, some which he didn’t entirely understand, and always a matter of time, or a lack of it. First there was rehabilitating Princess Luna, then there was Discord. Only after this had he made Captain of the Guard, then there were the Changelings, Sombra, Tirek… He sympathised in that while there was seemingly no time for it, it couldn’t be left alone in the hope that it could help itself. The Guard was partially limited by funding. He didn’t have to be Captain of the Guard to know that. Despite his best efforts he couldn’t work miracles.
On the other hoof, Blueblood had been rather keen on military reform since he’d known him, and he seemed competent enough to pass meaningful judgement on it. If he wasn’t then Thunderclap was there, and Blueblood seemed to give more attention to military matters, and Thunderclap by extension, than the Princesses. It was probably something to do with lacking alicorn magic.
Shining Armor glanced over at Blueblood, who appeared to be repressing the instinct to answer yet another question regarding defence of the realm over his new Leader of the Stable. It was probably ill-advised to do that, but Blueblood knew his stuff, or so it seemed. Shining himself hadn’t said much apart from the expected platitudes, partly because of the headache, and partly because he was afraid he’d open his mouth just to stick his hoof in it and give Blueblood a bigger reason to hang him out to dry. He had hoped Applejack would knock some sense into him, aside from the logistical stuff, but all that had happened yesterday was that Shining had gotten lightly drunk and Blueblood was unusually upbeat today.
Then again, Blueblood changes at the rate and visibility of paint drying. Cadance, honey, I know you’d tried your best on him, but…
His faith in the Princesses was rock-solid. Bottomless. But his faith in an outdated, underequipped, undertrained military was sorely tested repeatedly to his disgust, and if Blueblood was going to allow him to carry out the long-needed reorganisations, well then that was a point in his favour. It was humiliating, for while Twiley and the Elements could potentially bring any enemy of Equestria’s down, his job was to lead Equestria’s Armed Forces, and he’d be doing a bad job by just letting his little sister best friend forever deal with everything. Among the things Shining Armor hated the most were letting his sister down; letting Cadance down; and failing to do his job to his utmost.
I’d be a bad big brother if I didn’t feel something at letting them go off like that all the time, with no support.
Shining knew that even a pony with the most basic understanding of Equestrian politics would expect him to follow Blueblood despite the literature at first glance. For all his paranoia and attempts at rebuffing help Blueblood had, at the very least, shown his dedication to the country in the past and in recent times. Anyways, he had to rely on him. Blueblood paid the Guard now that the Princesses were gone. Shining’s duties now included (to an even greater extent) stopping Blueblood from doing anything extremely stupid. Whether that would be often or not he did not quite know.
Cadance, Twiley, I’ll do my best to make you both proud.
Vice-Regent of Equestria. That was something he never saw coming. He had to make it count.
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7110523 How fitting to have a clothes-horse on the council when they're going to be laundering all that money!
As always, Blueblood's bitterness is becoming ever more heartbreakingly believable.
I did catch the line in the middle where Blueblood said he remembers a time when he had not yet been broken, but... it seems like this bitterness has been building up his entire life.
Shining Armor's behavior kinda reinforces it, too, in that he is mixing himself missing his wife and sister and the idea that they cannot make it without them, and that it is not right for them not to be there to be the alicorns.
A tight ship
There frayed, Blueblood and his little cabal but not broken. I think they can hold things together. But I am suprised Fluttershy hasn't asked Discord on her own or he hasn't shown up himself. The entire situation is rife for a little chaos.
Unless he is missing as well.
7115543
Here's hoping that Discord's role will be minimal, limited to spouting some cryptic nonsense - if he shows up at all. As it is now, it's a story about normal ponies dealing with unexpected situation. All the usual superpowers are absent. There's no millenia old alicorn to offer advice, guide the lost and calm the situation. No obvious villain to blast with magical rainbow, thus restoring the peace. No easy friendship lesson to save the day.
Just overworked, paranoid government official, dealing with unknown crisis and trying to remain sane. And being continously proven that his doubts and fears were "justified" all along. National hero used dark magic to create something that could destroy Equestria's economy and princesses swept it under the carpet? Nooo, say it isn't so... I'm half expecting either Rainbow or Pinkie to do something that will speed up his descent into madness. Assuming the Guard doesn't do it first. Or some other inconvenient past secret surfaces up.
I could accept that ultimately it was all Discord's prank or something, but for now, I'd prefer if he didn't get involved at all. For whatever reasons are convenient.
7118209 for me, I am hoping he is missing as well. Wouldn't it truly be an age of mortals if they literally had no one to turn to. Be it a Goddess in Pony form or the Devil.
This is quite a fine story you have going on. Please continue.
I thought the parliament here was pretty odd. The way they work in today's modern world is that the parties that form the dominant coalition (AKA the government) hold the majority of seats, and the rest is the opposition. Not sure where independents fit into that.
I just finished binging this story, it held my attention all the way through. Very much looking forward to more.
Cada vez que leo ésta historia, más triste me siento por Blueblood. Ansío que le den vacaciones y pueda encontrar eso que lo haga feliz, también que las princesas lo reconozcan.
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No creo que esté Discord para consultarle, si los astros se mueven por si mismos quiere decir que tal vez ya estén en otro plano de la existencia.
Read this and rather enjoyed. HOpe it continues someday
Still very enjoyable. Shining remark that bluebloods change is like paint drying is pretty funny, and kinda accurate. It seems that he needed a couple of kicks in the gut to get him to actually think about his mindset. Hopefully this would continue to outward development that isn't shrouded by a layer of dickishness.
Even so, enjoying some light politics is pretty entertaining, and this story is majorly unseen for its quality