The Olden World

by Czar_Yoshi

One After Another

With a tired sigh, Lord Stormhoof seated himself at the head of a rectangular table that looked like it had been moved to the balcony for precisely this occasion, adjusting his coat and settling into a chair. He closed his eyes and raised a paw.

That was a signal his guards were waiting for, and they parted to allow two ponies through with a rolling cart of food. Telekinetic auras flared, and a cloud of dishes and platters moved into position, the entire table going from bare to set in a matter of seconds. The unicorns bowed, retreated, and the guards bowed as well.

"Dismissed," Stormhoof said, lowering his paw. "Glory to Garsheeva."

"Glory to Garsheeva," the guards and waiters answered in a familiar chant. "May her love, as deep as the Aldenfold, and her virtue, as pure as the moon, be revealed to the entire world!"

With a storm of metal steps, they left, and Stormhoof opened his eyes, somehow managing to look at every visitor at once. "Thank you for coming," he began. "I'm sure you've noticed that Kero isn't here."

Shinespark took a deep breath, putting her forehooves on the table and ignoring the food. "With all due respect, sir, we..." She stopped, hesitating. "Permission to speak frankly?"

Stormhoof inclined his head. "I already know what you are thinking. Yesterday's proceedings were chaotic and unprofessional, and a poor demonstration on our Empire's part before the visiting governance of another nation during times of strife. You are the daughter of Sosan leadership, and Admiral Valey was in a position of military power. But you were brought before that circus, as well as toyed with by our wayward High Prince. On behalf of the relations between our nations, I offer a formal apology for my court's behavior, and place myself at your disposal to answer whatever questions about our state of affairs might ease your concerns."

Valey sniffed at the food, then raised an eyebrow. "You don't say? That's cool. Still feel like I've been hit by a cart. But..." She yawned. "Don't really know what you're talking about with being unprofessional. That stuff was way more under control than Ironridge."

Stormhoof stopped and stared, and when Shinespark faintly nodded her agreement, he sighed and looked down. "That is... disheartening."

Nobody stopped Valey as she gingerly loaded up on food, and Shinespark served herself as well, the others beginning to follow suit. "It's a lot more than disheartening," Sharpie grumbled as Brightcoil levitated buttered toast onto her plate. "Ironridge was absolutely demeaning, and this was too!" Her eyes blazed. "Kero was going out of his way to act suspiciously at that council! What general in their right mind would commit to a military maneuver on the word of someone like that?"

"I understand your skepticism, Sharpie," Stormhoof said, meeting her eyes. "And it would not have happened without the independent corroboration of the passengers aboard the ship you flew in on, most notably yourself. But there is deep-rooted dysfunction in my province, and it is a symptom of woes all across the Empire stemming from an incident several years ago. How familiar are all of you with the manner in which houses are succeeded?"

"I attempted to explain it on several occasions," Gerardo announced, primly twirling a utensil. "However, perhaps a refresher would be of use?"

"Hmmm..." Stormhoof sighed. "The Empire is governed first by Garsheeva, and second by an empress, living in the capitol province of Grandbell. The position is passed along her bloodline, from princess to princess, and when there are any princes, they move to begin their own line in any province where the ruling house no longer has a male sphinx of their own. In short, once a province lacks a ruling lord and there is a high prince to begin anew, their family is retired to a manor and the province changes paws. Right now, there are no houses who lack lords, and Gazelle will remain in his position until that changes, likely through the extinction of the Izvaldi line."

His eyes cut a path straight down the table, bisecting it into two perfect halves. "The birth of a sphinx is extremely rare to mixed parents, and female sphinxes are slow to conceive. Because sibling relationships are outlawed under Garsheeva, houses must look to each other for daughters to marry their sons and ensure their bloodlines continue. This is a system that favors those wealthy enough to pay high dowries in exchange for prospective daughters' paws in marriages. It in theory redistributes wealth, but in practice has led to a divide between those with the resources to make pacts... and those without. Most of the Empire's houses are one to two generations old, but the Stormhoof line has endured far longer than that."

One by one, Maple, Slipstream, Valey and Shinespark blinked, watching as they ate. "My subjects are set in their ways," Stormhoof continued. "Our prosperity and stability has brought them to forget the transient nature of sphinx dynasties. Garsheeva is immortal; the core of the Empire that endures throughout the ages. Our bloodlines were not meant to be. And yet..."

He took a deep breath. "Six years ago, the Empress and her husband were assassinated in Varsidel, leaving behind their two children Gazelle and Gwendolyn. The Crown Princess was barely old enough to speak, and cannot legally ascend her throne until she takes a husband in marriage. Gazelle has been old enough for several years to take a throne, but cannot rule Grandbell. And Garsheeva leaves us to our own devices, causing the situation to deteriorate. The war room you beheld was two dozen generals wearing the mannerisms of old with none of the virtue, believing they are the pinnacle of the Empire with none to put them in their place, led by a mercenary charlatan and egged on by a wayward prince who is frustrated by the wrongs of the world and denied the easiest path to fixing them, all because he was born a male and cannot take Grandbell's throne."

"You might wanna look into fixing that," Valey advised around a mouthful of food. "Sounds explosive."

"That's right..." Maple whispered, glancing to Gerardo. "I remember someone saying something about the Emperor and Empress being dead, but didn't connect those with that sphinx's parents. He was the one who was heckling during the meeting, wasn't he?"

"He was," Stormhoof said. "Gazelle is struggling to find his role in the world. He is bright, ambitious, charismatic, cunning and far more dangerous than many of the province lords give him credit for. His motivations and ideals are genuine, but he learns about the world through treating it as a plaything. I try to look out for him as much as possible, and guide him where I can, but my family is a poor substitute for his own. It is my hope that one day, he will grow into a leader who can break up the balance of power in the Empire, ensuring it continues changing as Garsheeva designed."

Valey glanced away. "Yeah, that sounds rough. I sorta figured he'd learned that himself was all he needed to get his way."

"Sorry for interrupting, because I'm not very important..." Slipstream smiled apologetically. "But you're the ruler here, right? If there are ponies or griffons in your cabinet who aren't behaving, why not fire them and get someone better?"

"Several reasons," Stormhoof replied. "There is a limited supply of top talent, and many of my most trustworthy officers have more important things to do than attend hearings we can already guess will end poorly. Additionally, most of the better ones tended toward those who didn't speak."

"Makes sense." Shinespark nodded.

Stormhoof coughed. "Third, do not underestimate just how rare a truly talented, loyal administrator can be. And finally..."

He reached into his coat, withdrawing a familiar glowing stone and offering it across the table. "Nobody questioned the absence of this from the council, but my most trusted were in a secret meeting held simultaneously in another room. We've held the conversation we need with Ironridge. You may have this back."

"Yesss!" Valey snatched it eagerly, kissing the stone and stowing it beneath her hat. "Finally!"

Stormhoof gave a single, small laugh. "This is my province's situation. Is there anything else I can answer for you?"

Brightcoil lifted a hoof. "This isn't a question, but if you're looking for trustworthy, professional ponies-"

"No." Sharpie silenced her with a gentle wing. "I'm sorry, but I'm not looking for work in an environment like this."

Stormhoof made a soft noise in the back of his throat, but nodded and didn't say anything.

"Totally random question here," Valey muttered around a mouthful, "but why does your fort have so many psychopaths against bats? Can't you make that illegal, or something?"

"Stormhoof's policy is no policy," the sphinx said, eyes glinting. "And for that, I make no apologies. It is difficult enough to change the ways of a society as entrenched as this one, but you should know that the previous empress's husband was my younger brother, and the attack in which they perished was carried out by sarosian agents. I am content to let my people decide their own ways beyond the walls of my tower, and I consider that a mercy."

Valey's eyes widened, and she pulled slightly back. "Oookay! Wrong question. Uhhh..." Sweating slightly, she glanced around for a way to change the subject.

"Can you tell us about Izvaldi?" Maple jumped in, trying to help. "We've gotten an invitation from Wallace Whitewing to visit, but are trying to be careful what we get into."

"Yes." Stormhoof folded his paws again. "Izvaldi is a landlocked province north of Grandbell, the seat of the Empire's power. It is mostly rural and known for farming, providing over a quarter of the Empire's food. Its lord is a griffon, Percival Izvaldi, who rules while he waits for his grandfather to pass away and Gazelle to assume his throne. Percival's government is focused exclusively on internal affairs, and he sacrifices any sort of presence on the high council or social standing among the houses to spend on public works projects instead. He is in a unique position to get away with it, as the other houses are actively led by sphinxes and he couldn't make much progress pushing a national agenda if he tried. If you are worried about anti-sarosian sentiments, it is one of the best places you can be, though it may lower your own standing among those with even more prejudice than I if you begin to travel again. I wouldn't worry about the upcoming transfer of power. It's something every house has studied extensively, and no one believes there will be any sweeping changes once Gazelle takes the throne."

Maple glanced at Shinespark, Valey and Gerardo. "Well? Everyone we talk to seems to think it's a good idea..."

"I have something important to ask," Shinespark quickly announced. "We have a ship in your marina. Red Wharf, Pier Three, Dock H-Thirty-Two. It needs a new mana core, and if Izvaldi is landlocked, we won't be able to take it with us. What's the most secure thing we can do?"

"Rivers," Stormhoof answered. "All of the Empire is crossed by canals for water travel, so you can sail to Chateau Izvaldi and take it with you. As for your mana core, that is your business."

"How big of a mana core do you need?" Brightcoil asked, suddenly more attuned to the discussion.

Shinespark shrugged. "Bigger than the one we have. Ideally airship class, but we can make do with smaller."

"What about Meltdown?" Starlight suggested, thinking between bites. "You liked her, didn't you? And didn't she run some energy company?"

"Meltdown is not the easiest mare to do business with," Stormhoof growled. "She comes and goes as she pleases and acts with the authority of a goddess. Some wonder why we even need an Empress when she could control the entire continent by regulating its supply of energy. But, if you feel she has good graces and you are in them, go right ahead."

"Hmmm..." Sharpie sat in quiet contemplation.

"We'll figure something out," Maple assured, glancing between Shinespark and Gerardo. "And we won't turn down any invitations or leave any ships behind to do it. I promise."

Comments

[Venlinelle]

Valey sniffed at the food, then raised an eyebrow. "You don't say? That's cool. Still feel like I've been hit by a cart. But..." She yawned. "Don't really know what you're talking about with being unprofessional. That stuff was way more under control than Ironridge."

She’s not wrong. There aren’t even any demons!

I will say, if this story has one flaw, it’s the way the dialogue is formatted. These giant blocks of dialogue technically accomplish the same thing as more artfully presented prose, but they just don’t flow well, and it takes a lot more effort to get through them than it would otherwise. Not by any means an insurmountable problem, nor one you can fix, but it’s a persistent enough issue I felt it was worth noting.