SAPR

by Scipio Smith

Meeting With the Councillor (New)

Meeting with the Councillor

Weiss had met Councillor Mi Amore Cadenza before, but never spoken to her. The Councillor was about of an age with Winter, although there were precious few other similarities between them, at least physically: Councillor Cadenza was much softer in the face, with long hair that fell down her back and across her shoulders, curling in rolls at the tips and coloured in shades of pink, with a streak of gold. A pair of rings, both gold, one plain and one bearing a large, square-cut diamond flanked by twin sapphires, sat upon a finger on her right hand; a sapphire heart, set in a golden necklace, embraced her throat.

The Councillor was not alone in her gleaming office — so gleaming that it reflected the appearances of the three visitors as they walked inside. A man stood at the side of her desk, a tall man, and squarely built, with a firm jaw and broad shoulders. His eyes were a light cerulean blue, and while his hair contained streaks of the same, it was, in the main, a darker shade, shading very dark blue in places, although rarely. He was dressed in the red jacket with gold facings of the Atlesian Guard, a very prestigious but largely ceremonial regiment established to protect Atlas itself; the blue sash that ran from his right shoulder down to his left hip doubtless meant something, but Weiss did not know what.

Councillor Cadenza stood in front of her desk and smiled at the three of them as they came in. “Welcome. Thank you for coming, all of you.”

“Thank you for having us, ma’am, especially at such short notice,” Rainbow said. She came to attention and saluted. “Good to see you again, Major.”

The man in the uniform — Major someone, apparently — saluted back. “Hey, Dash. How have you been?”

There was a degree of amusement in her voice as Councillor Cadenza said, “Maybe this isn’t the best time for you two to catch up.”

The Major smiled. “Right. You’ll have to come over for dinner sometime, Dash.”

“Is that an invitation, sir?”

“It’s me saying I’ll talk to Mom and Dad and see if we can make it a whole family thing,” the Major said.

“I’ll look forward to that, sir,” Rainbow said. She glanced at Weiss and Blake, who stood on either side of her. “Ahem, Councillor, Major, allow me to introduce Blake Belladonna and, well, Weiss Schnee, you probably already know, but … Weiss Schnee. Weiss, Blake, allow me to present Councillor Mi Amore Cadenza and Major Shining Armor Cadenza Sparkle, Captain of the Council Guard.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Blake said, bowing her head respectfully. “Major and Captain?”

“Major is the rank I’m paid at; Captain is my job description,” Shining Armor supplied helpfully.

“Sometimes, I think the Atlesian military delights in being confusing,” Blake murmured. “But, as I say, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” She paused for a moment. “Councillor … Ma’am…” She bowed her head. “I owe you an apology; I owe you both an apology—”

“Miss Belladonna,” Councillor Cadenza cut her off, “are you currently a member of the White Fang?”

“No!” Blake cried, her head snapping up. “No, I—”

“Then what do you have to apologise for?” Councillor Cadenza asked, smiling warmly.

If that’s how you feel, then why is your husband the soldier here? Weiss could not help but wonder, although she did not give voice to her suspicion.

“In any case,” Councillor Cadenza added, “it’s a pleasure to meet you too, Miss Belladonna; and you, Miss Schnee, although I believe we’ve met before.”

“Yes, I think we have, Councillor, and more than once,” Weiss said. “Although I think this might be our first time speaking.”

The smile faltered a little on Councillor Cadenza’s face. “Yes,” she said softly. “I … I can’t imagine that it’s easy growing up as the daughter of a man like Jacques Schnee.”

That was a statement that could mean almost anything, from ‘I’m sorry that you’ll struggle to escape the shadow of such a titan of industry’ to ‘I’m sorry that you’re put on a pedestal as the heiress to the Schnee Dust Company’ all the way to ‘I’m sorry that your father is abusing you.’ Of course, the studied ambiguity of it was precisely the point.

After all, she is a politician.

“Yes,” Weiss said quietly. “Yes, it has its … unique challenges.”

Councillor Cadenza’s smile returned, seeming at least to be sympathetic. “Please,” she said, “sit down, all of you. I even had chairs brought in specially. And a table.”

“I thought your office looked a little more cluttered than normal,” Rainbow said as she reached for one of the black office chairs sitting against the wall. They all took one and placed them around the small table — also black — that sat in front of the Councillor’s desk. A tray of small sandwiches — with a variety of meat, fish, and vegetarian fillings — sat upon said table, along with a pot of something warm and a bowl of potato chips.

“I told the catering team that I was having a working meeting,” Councillor Cadenza explained as she herself took a seat in front of her desk, facing the three young huntresses across the table.

“Thank you, ma’am,” said Weiss, who, unlike the other two, hadn’t eaten anything yet.

“There’s no need to call me 'ma’am,' or 'Councillor,'” Councillor Cadenza admonished. “We’re in private, and you’re friends of Rainbow Dash, so 'Cadance' will be fine.”

“I call you ma’am in this office, ma’am,” Rainbow pointed out.

“Then consider this the point made that you don’t have to all the time,” Cadance said brightly.

Rainbow glanced up, as though the ceiling was going to take offence at the lack of decorum.

That sounded harsh, when the truth was that Weiss understood what Rainbow meant. She probably did call Cadance ‘Cadance’ in other settings — like this hypothetical family dinner to which she would be going if and when Shining Armor arranged it — but in this office, it was different. Because this wasn’t just an office; it was a Councillor’s office. It was the office of an Atlesian Councillor.

The majesty of Atlas dwelt within this office.

And yet Cadance had just set it aside, and for Blake too. If she’d done so just for Weiss, then Weiss might, to be honest and a little cynical, have suspected flattery. But she had done so for Blake as well. Which suggested to Weiss that she was genuine in her intentions. She really did want to reduce the level of formality between them.

“Thank you, Cadance,” she said. She reached out towards the tray of sandwiches.

Her scroll went off. It was set to vibrate, but that didn’t make the buzzing it made to produce the vibrations quiet by any means. Weiss ignored it and picked up a ham sandwich from off the tray. Her scroll continued to go off as she took a bite out of said sandwich. It was a little thin, both in terms of the bread and the filling, but it did not taste bad.

Cadance’s eyebrows rose. “Do you need to get that, Miss Schnee?”

“No,” Weiss said at once. “It’s my father. And, please, call me Weiss.” She smiled. “It doesn’t seem right that you should address me more formally than I address you.”

Cadance did not respond to that; rather — her eyebrows climbing just a little higher up her forehead — she asked, “Is there a reason you don’t want to speak to your father?”

Weiss winced. “He … doesn’t know how I spent last night.”

Cadance’s eyebrows were in danger of disappearing from view. “Does he know where you are?”

Weiss hesitated for a moment. “No,” she admitted.

Cadance exchanged a glance with her husband.

“Do you want me to guard the door?” Shining Armor asked, a hint of a smile crinkling the corners of his lips.

“No,” Cadance replied. “But perhaps we should get this over with before Jacques Schnee calls the police. And yet…” She leaned forwards, resting her elbows on her knees. “I want — I need — to start by commending all three of you for what you did last night. I know that two of you, at least, have experience in going above and beyond your calling as students; I know that two of you have been repeatedly asked to go above and beyond your calling as students. But the fact remains that you did so again last night, without being asked, and even if you had been asked, you would have had every right to refuse. But you didn’t, and that does you credit.”

Weiss felt a faint blush of pride rising to her cheeks. “Thank you.”

“With respect,” Blake said, leaning forward herself in turn, “it wouldn’t have been necessary for us to do ourselves credit if the authorities here in Atlas had done their jobs.”

“Were these disappearances reported to the police?” Shining Armor asked.

“No,” Rainbow murmured.

“Then what were the authorities supposed to investigate?” demanded Shining Armor. “How were they supposed to stop disappearances they didn’t know were happening?”

“Maybe you should ask why the people of Low Town didn’t want to talk to the police, didn’t trust the authorities, even as their neighbours were vanishing off the streets,” Blake snapped.

“Blake, calm down,” Rainbow urged.

“No, Rainbow Dash, it’s fine,” Cadance said quickly. “There’s nothing wrong with being passionate. And it’s not as if Blake — can I call you Blake, or would you prefer Miss Belladonna?”

“'Blake' will be fine,” Blake said softly.

“You have a point, Blake,” Cadance said. “My husband has a point as well, that it is difficult to investigate crimes that haven’t been reported, but to use that as a shield, we must, as you remind us, ask ourselves why it is that the people of Low Town prefer to let crimes committed against them go unreported.” She let out a sigh. “The truth is, of all the problems confronting Atlas, the greatest, to my mind, is the breakdown of trust in our institutions amongst the people of Low Town and Mantle. The police, the military, even the Council itself, people have lost faith that these institutions are acting in their interests.”

“With good reason,” Blake pointed out.

“I don’t deny that,” Cadance replied. “But how to address it? People don’t trust the police, so they don’t talk to the police; the police don’t investigate crimes because the crimes aren’t being reported to them; trust in the police falls even further because they’re not investigating these crimes; it’s a vicious cycle. A cycle that must be broken … somehow.” She paused. “If any of you have any suggestions, any at all, I’d love to hear them.”

Rainbow glanced aside and scratched the back of her head with one hand. “Well, I mean … it isn’t just that crimes aren’t reported,” she murmured.

“Rainbow Dash?” Blake asked, a rising inflection in her voice.

Rainbow didn’t look at either Blake or Cadance. “In Mantle, not too long ago … a friend of Ciel and Neon — that’s Ciel Soleil, my teammate, and Neon Katt, a fellow Atlas student — a friend of theirs, an old lady from their church, had her head bashed in by some punk from her block. They found her, they reported to the police, and the police were pretty up front that they weren’t going to do anything about it. I don’t know whether they’re incompetent or underfunded or they just don’t care, but if we want people to start trusting the police — and cut the legs out from under Robyn Hill while we’re at it — maybe a kick up the backside and a budget increase would be a place to start?”

“'A budget increase'?” Weiss repeated. “After ignoring a murder?”

“I know it doesn’t sound good,” Rainbow replied. “But if they’re under-resourced—”

“I don’t suppose you have the name of the officer in question?” asked Cadance, her expression sharpening, even as her voice remained soft and calm and gentle.

“Uh, no,” Rainbow admitted. “No, I don’t.”

“No, I didn’t think you would,” Cadance murmured. “Still, thank you for bringing it to my attention. It seems the problem may go even deeper than I thought. Anything else?”

“We could get people out of Low Town?” Rainbow suggested. “I mean … it’s easy to feel like Atlas doesn’t care about you when you’re stuck in a crater right underneath Atlas with no light.”

“Speaking for myself, I didn’t even know that Low Town existed until this errand brought me there,” Weiss added softly.

Cadance glanced at her. “That’s not too surprising,” she said. “After all, you are—”

“A Schnee?” Weiss asked. “So that excuses my ignorance?”

“'Excuses'? That isn’t for me to say,” Cadance said. “But 'explains'? Certainly.”

“There’s nothing to excuse,” Blake said. “Even if you’d known, what could you have done? The real question is, how many other Atlesians are similarly ignorant?”

“The faunus of Low Town aren’t invisible,” Rainbow said. “Some of them have jobs that take them up to Atlas: electricians, plumbers—”

“But do the people whose boilers they fix know where their plumber or their electrician live?” Blake demanded.

“I don’t know; does anyone think about where their plumber lives?” Rainbow responded.

“I just pay the guy,” Shining Armor said.

“Is ‘the guy’ a faunus?” asked Blake.

Shining Armor hesitated for a moment. “Yes,” he admitted.

Cadance glanced at him.

Shining Armor said, “Like Rainbow said, I’ve never thought about it.”

“No,” Cadance murmured. “Neither have I.”

“If they lived in Atlas, then they wouldn’t have any problems,” Rainbow declared.

“'Any problems'?” repeated Blake sceptically.

“Well, not nearly as many.”

“But how would they live in Atlas?” inquired Cadance. “Where?”

“The farmland?” Rainbow suggested. “It’s not like we need it to live.”

“That’s debatable,” Cadance murmured. “And in any case, even if that were true, and even if everyone in Low Town were amenable to such a move — because if even some of them wanted to stay down below you’ve just made things worse for them — you’re talking about compulsory purchase, state-driven redevelopment, resettlement, not to mention the public relations aspect to manage the reactions of the people already living in Atlas. You’re talking about battles in the Council Chamber and in public. It will take time, if it happens at all.”

“I don’t think there’s a quick fix for this,” Blake pointed out. “If people don’t believe that the institutions of Atlas are working for them, then respectfully, might I suggest that the only way to change that perception is for those institutions to work for the people in a sustained way. That is the only thing that will change attitudes and that will take time.”

“I don’t deny it,” Cadance said, “but I was hoping for something that would start to show effects a little faster.”

Weiss pursed her lips together. “Rainbow Dash, these people from Low Town who work in Atlas, how do they get there?”

“A shuttle,” Rainbow replied. “Why?”

“And how many times does it run?” asked Weiss.

“Twice in the morning, once in the afternoon, once in the evening, once at night, there and back.”

“Five trips per day,” Weiss said. “And in the meantime, you’re stuck, either in Low Town or in Atlas.”

Rainbow nodded.

“One thing that could be done more quickly than moving everyone up to Atlas is to perhaps give them the same freedom of movement enjoyed by everyone else,” Weiss suggested. “I can’t think of anyone else in the kingdom who is so restricted in when and where they can travel.”

“You mean more shuttles?” Rainbow asked.

“Or an elevator connecting Atlas to Low Town, there has to be something,” Weiss said. “Some alternative to mass commuting at set times. How pleasant are those shuttles?”

“Not very,” Rainbow admitted.

“Then surely it’s worth at least considering,” Weiss said. “It sounds as though almost anything would be an improvement.”

“I mean, if we’re only talking about improvements,” Rainbow added. “Even if the Council doesn’t want to spend the lien to get people out of Low Town … I mean, there’s a reason I left, and I didn’t look back until now. After I’d been in Atlas, after I’d been in Canterlot … I hated going back home; it was dark, it was cold, it was awful; I mean, I didn’t like it very much when I didn’t know any better, but after I knew better … even if we can’t get everyone out of Low Town, could we not at least fix Low Town so it isn’t such an unbearable place to live?” She paused, running one hand through her rainbow hair. “If … if we’re a shining kingdom, then why do we have people living in the dark? If we’re the greatest kingdom in Remnant, then why do we have people living like that?”

Cadance smiled slightly. “'If we are a shining kingdom, then why do we have citizens living in the dark'?” she repeated. “That’s very good, Rainbow Dash. You should join my speechwriting staff.”

Rainbow snorted. “Thanks, but … no thanks.”

“So what would you have in mind?” Cadance asked. “What improvements to make life down in Low Town more tolerable?”

Rainbow’s brow furrowed for a moment. “Lights?” she suggested. “An improved heating grid? Real houses, maybe? To be honest, you’d get better ideas if you went and asked someone who actually lived in Low Town, rather than someone who moved out a while back.”

“Would you be willing to do that for me?” Cadance asked. “The more specific concepts I can put before the rest of the Council, the better.”

Rainbow nodded. “Sure thing.”

Cadance glanced at Blake. “Blake, do you mind if I ask you something?”

“What?” Blake replied.

“Given everything,” Cadance said. “Given our flaws … why … what do you see when you look at us?”

Blake was silent for a moment. “Are you asking me why I might want to come here?” she asked.

It was Cadance’s turn to take a brief pause. “I suppose I am, yes,” she said softly.

“Because I’m sitting in the office of a Councillor, discussing what can be done about these problems,” Blake said. “And yes, you’re right, there are problems, there are flaws. I remember when I first met Rainbow Dash, she talked to me like Atlas was perfect, flawless; I didn’t believe that, and I don’t think that even Rainbow Dash believes that any longer, in the same way that I don’t believe any longer that you’re the oppressors of my imaginings. Atlas is flawed, as all the kingdoms of Remnant are flawed — when it comes to the issue of the faunus, and probably a lot of other ways as well. But like I said, I’m sitting in the office of a Councillor, talking and listening to you talk about what can be done to fix those problems, to correct those flaws. I can’t think of another kingdom where that would be true. Would I get this kind of an audience in Mistral, or even in Vale?

“Atlas isn’t perfect, not yet; it might not even be better than any other kingdom. But it’s trying to be, and that … that counts for a great deal.” Blake smiled. “And, I have to admit, you do turn out some pretty good people up here in the north.”

It was rather subtle, but Weiss fancied that she saw the smile on Cadance’s face grow ever so slightly wider as Blake spoke.

She turned her attention back to Weiss. “I’m sorry, Weiss; I said that we would get through your business quickly, and yet, so far, we’ve discussed everything but your business.”

“It’s fine,” Weiss assured her. “What I have to ask isn’t more important than anything else.”

“Perhaps not, but getting you home might be,” Cadance reminded her. “So, what is it that you wanted to ask?”

“Down in Low Town, there is a family,” Weiss said. “A grandmother and two granddaughters. The old woman’s name is Laberna Seacole, and she was my mother’s nurse, and after that, my own and that of my siblings. My father let her go, and since then … I’m afraid she might be ill. She’s definitely poor. I’m well aware that this is favouritism, but this is a woman who solaced the last hours of Nicholas Schnee, who raised his daughter, who raised his granddaughters. If Atlas owes my grandfather a debt — and it does; this kingdom would be nothing if not for the sweat of Nicholas Schnee’s brow — then doesn’t it also owe something to his faithful servant? More to the point, I’ve given my word that I would get her — get all of them — out of the squalor in which they live. Which was arrogant of me, I know, because I have no power to make it happen. But you do, and so … in spite of the fact that this is our first time speaking, I was hoping that you would help me.”

Which I realise now might also be said to be rather arrogant of me.

Cadance leaned back in her chair. “Two granddaughters, you say?”

“Yes,” Weiss replied. “Is that a problem?”

“It does complicate things,” Cadance admitted. “A case could be made, as you say, that Atlas owes this Laberna Seacole a debt in respect of her service to Jacques Schnee, but her granddaughters have no such claim on our largesse, and it may be that their grandmother has not long left. It would be a cruel thing to lift the grandchildren out of poverty for a little while only to throw them back again. How old are they?”

“Young,” Weiss said. “Younger than I am.”

“Hmm,” Cadance said. “Do you think they’d be interested in learning how to protect themselves, and possibly even others?”

“I really have no idea,” Weiss answered. “Why?”

“Because Canterlot offers bursaries,” Cadance said. “Education is free, as Rainbow Dash knows well, but there are grants in place to help with living expenses, and Principal Celestia has been known to do me a favour from time to time. As has General Ironwood, if it comes to it. That will take care of them for a few years, and after that, they may want to go to Atlas, or one of the other Academies, and see where life takes them from there. And the money will help their grandmother, and if she needs help moving then … that can be arranged. In the meantime, I will see about granting Mrs. Seacole a special pension, in recognition of her service to Atlas, but that should take care of her grandchildren even after she’s gone.”

Weiss gasped. “Just … just like that?”

“Sometimes, things aren’t complicated,” Cadance told her. “Sometimes, we get the chance to get things done, and to do the right thing quickly and easily. That being said, it isn’t quite ‘just like that’; I still need to make a few calls. And, of course, the family will need to agree.”

“Of course,” Weiss said. She hesitated. “Once I get home, I’m not sure I’ll be in much of a position to go back to Low Town and speak with them.”

“I’m sure Rainbow Dash won’t mind being our go between in that, as well, will you, Rainbow?” Cadance asked.

Rainbow glanced at Weiss. “Civis Atlarum Sum,” she said. “You can rely on me.”

Weiss smiled. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “Thank you,” she said to Cadance, as she got to her feet. “That is … very generous.”

“Offering opportunity to two young Atlesians is generous?” Cadance asked. “No, I’m afraid I disagree: it is … a right that all Atlesians should enjoy, even if they do not.”

“All Atlesians,” Weiss said softly. “And they are Atlesians?”

“What else would they be?” Cadance replied.

Weiss looked down at the still seated Councillor. “Thank you, once again,” she said.

“Don’t thank me until it happens,” Cadance told her. “And now…”

“Yes,” Weiss murmured. “Now it’s time for me to go home.”

Time to go home … and face my father.

Comments

[Mastermind4892]

That was wonderful! Brutally honest, yet heartwarming!

[alfonso_rd_33]

Imoresive

[Aemon Targaryen]

“Atlas isn’t perfect, not yet; it might not even be better than any other kingdom. But it’s trying to be, and that … that counts for a great deal.” Blake smiled. “And, I have to admit, you do turn out some pretty good people up here in the north.”

“It might” is far too kind, but I agree.

“What else would they be?” Cadance replied.

Servants ? Colonial subjects ? Second and third class citizens ? I like you Cadence, but those terms fit them far more, and not by their choice or that of their ancestors.

Time to go home … and face my father.

Oh boy, that one is gonna be messy.

Let’s just hope that Weiss doesn’t let herself slapped ( Weiss should have put the fear of god into him in Volume 4).

11264207

Heartwarming ? Hardly, but it’s a start.

[Cyclone Knight]

11264770
Just curious, but which kingdom do you consider to be better than Atlas and why? Or do you consider them all to be the same?

[Aemon Targaryen]

11264804
All rotten.

I said Atlas isn’t better, it doesn’t mean than the others are good or even barely better.

Vale is less chauvinist, but they don’t have a army, they are fools and weaklings.

Mistral have all the arrogance of Atlas but even less equality and without strength to back it up, Atlas is a rotten titan lead by effective scums, a idealist fool who have good intentions and know when to use her brain if necessary and a sympathetic and smart authoritarian, Mistral is a rotten dwarf lead by inbreed leeches who are as toxic to the kingdom as Lionheart, who at least have the excuse to have once been a man worthy of praises, the exception of this rot being, to a extent, Terri belle , even Jacques is at least a good businessman and more useful than this lot.

But at least, it isn’t just the capital who have somewhat correct standards of living.

Vacuo is a chaotic mess who is only less racist because they are too weak to actually have a proper state, heir of a pathetic institution who got bullied by everyone and their mother out of all their ressources.

But it’s what make Atlas not better, because they don’t even care to make the situation better for people beside their shiny city, because when judging the others, I don’t judge them on their capital only like what the atlesians do.