Si vis bellum, para scilis

by TheDriderPony

Diplomatic Misconduct

There is a story which is passed down through the line of Equestrian diplomats like an ancestral sword; meant to be kept and preserved but never shown to outsiders.

This story takes place in the early days of international diplomacy, when the races were just beginning to consider their neighbors as more than just possible threats or potential meals. There had always been some degree of trading between creatures and sometimes one nation would come to the aid of another (if they thought the threat might turn on them next) but there was never anything official. No specific policies set forth between one government and another.

It was after the first Minotaur war that everything changed. The conflict took its toll on the continent and every nation was left reeling. It was then that Princess Celestia, King Grendel, Dragonlord Inferno, and High Shaman Zeesha decided that it was high time to establish official diplomatic relationships. Thus, a summit was announced.

It was to be the first such event of its kind; a conference of all the talking races. Given the era, this consisted of exclusively the ponies, griffons, zebra, and dragons.

Seeing as the ponies were still building their new city on the mountain after the Minotaurs had destroyed the Everfree capitol, and how the Griffons were more a nomadic collection of warrior merchants than a fixed nation, and how the dragons didn't really "do" architecture, the city of Zebrabwei was chosen to host the event.

The Zebrican capitol was a marvel to behold. Compared to the cottages, tents, and caves of the visiting delegations, the adobe brick buildings (some rising five or more stories tall!) were jaw-dropping. Zebrican magic kept their rooms cool even in the sweltering savannah heat, and the richness of the exotic food was to die for (including one very close call when the dragon delegate discovered the local delicacy known as jade).

What the delegates found unusual, however, was the sheer number of strict rules their guides pressed upon them. Never gesture to someone with your left forelimb if your right is unoccupied. Never remove food from a communal eating area. Never make an advance on a zebra unless you fully intend to follow through with a betrothal. These were but the first of an exhausting list.

At the center of the city, set apart by a wide exclusion zone, was the brightest of all the city's jewels. The royal palace was a living tapestry, woven out of still-living savannah grasses of a dozen species and shades of color. Vibrant murals made up each wall, not only depicting the history of the royal lineage but of the nation as a whole. Every blade, every leaf, despite being woven tight enough to block wind and light alike, was kept alive with the power of ancient zebra mysticisms.

The hall chosen as the conference room was considered one of the finest in all the palace. It depicted the zebra creation mythos, in which Zebros, the first zebra from with all others take their name, rescues an injured Spirit of the plains and is blessed with mastery over plants and gifted the first stripes.

The day after the delegate's arrival (the first day being dedicated to a large welcoming ceremony and subsequent feast), the pony and griffon representatives arrived in the conference hall ahead of schedule. Both were quite eager to closen the ties between the zebras and their respective nations.

The ponies were eager to ally with a similar looking race and, if things went well, lay the groundwork to bring them into the larger Equestrian fold as they had done with the thestrals. The griffons were eager for new trading partners, both as raw material suppliers and finished good consumers. In particular, there was one product which the griffon ambassador was hoping to shill more than any other.

Some weeks prior, each nation had sent gifts to the others, showcasing not only their goodwill but also a sampler of the various goods they were willing to trade. Among those sent by the zebras, one had stood out to the griffons in particular: sugar cane.

Having known only the dangerous bugbear honey as a sweetening agent, the juicy twigs were nothing short of a miracle. Griffon culinary scientists spent weeks delving into its secrets, only days before the summit finalizing their latest invention and potential export: the scone. An abomination of a pastry, composed almost entirely of sugar held together with a flour and water paste.

Like any savvy businesscreature, the griffin diplomat brought a sample with him to the conference room and proudly showed it off before the others arrived. The pony ambassador became immediately concerned. Unlike the griffons who had only investigated trade possibilities and the dragons who had come hungry but completely unprepared, the ponies had taken time to study Zebrican culture and customs. Chiefly among them was their strict adherence to rules, shown both in their intricately worded laws and their meticulously metered speech.

As the story goes, knowing that any violation of their customs could spell disaster for the upcoming alliance between their peoples, the pony ambassador gently chided her griffon counterpart by smacking the treat from his claws and making a sharp comment about his intelligence.

Never to leave an insult unreturned, the griffon replied with a biting critique about the pony's heritage and a demand that he be compensated over the lost value of the product.

Though the exact conversation has been lost to time, it is said that their quarrel became so loud, their diatribes regarding each other's appearances and lineages so ostentatiously verbose, that even the sound-insulating grass wall struggled to muffle it. It did not, however, fail to conduct the sound of the door guard heralding the imminent entry of the other delegates.

The pony ambassador, in a moment of pure reactionary instinct, bucked the offending pastry so hard that it launched into the ceiling and wedged itself squarely within the grass plaits of Zebros' forehead (unintentionally retconning the entire Zebrican mythology by making him a unicorn).

In a moment of silence before the others arrived, both diplomats wordlessly agreed to not mention it. This was their first, and perhaps most dangerous, mistake.

Despite their varying levels of preparation, none of the three visiting races had thought to study up on Zebrican flora and fauna. Thus, they knew nothing of the Zebrican Fire Ant.

The Zebrican fire ant was, and is, a curious case of magical evolution. Unlike many similar species, they have no Queen. Rather, the entire colony is genetic duplicates of a single entity. When an ant gathers enough energy, it will cleave and split into two individuals. This miracle of nature is accompanied by a burst of flame, giving them their name. Usually, this event would happen deep and safe within the hive, however, gaining a large amount of energy very quickly will cause an ant to split and combust spontaneously. For generations, many zebras used this to their advantage; manipulating ants to start cooking fires or to dry out wet pottery by coaxing them using their favorite high-energy food: simple sugars.

As one may guess, the scone ensconced in the wall's weave was a nigh-irresistible treat to every fire ant in half a league.

When the inevitable finally happened, thankfully not a single creature was hurt as they were all away from the palace for lunch at the time.

Three things came about as a result of the blaze that destroyed the royal palace. First, though the cause of the fire was never determined, Zebra-Dragon relations nonetheless soured for the next three centuries.

Second, the first official, and to date, longest lasting accord between ponies and griffons was forged. Though the agreement was never once vocalized, both parties made a solemn vow to "never speak of this again".

The third and final product of the fire was the creation of a cautionary tale among both pony and griffon diplomats.

The lesson the griffons took away was that one should never reveal a prototype product to anyone before the intended customer.

For ponies, it became a tale that would be passed down through generations of diplomats for so long that it would become a parable about the danger of acting rashly without knowing all the facts. Or, as one particularly eloquent griffon had put it, the parable of how ponies in grass houses should not throw scones.

Comments

[RainbowDoubleDash]

Ha!

Good one.

[Bookeater_otaku]

Nice little story. I liked the premise of the tribes trying diplomacy. Maybe you could do more stories like that about some international crisis they averted or maybe when other races were added to the conference.

[Vinylshadow]

I'm mad I can't both like and dislike a story

Nicely done

[FanOfMostEverything]

Brilliant work. A textbook feghoot, exquisite in its deplorability. Thank you for it, and best of luck in the contest.

[Skeeter The Lurker]

A twist on a classic.

Smoothly done.

~Skeeter The Lurker

[Neece]

By the gods Drider, my sides!!!

This was absolutely hilarious and got me chief for laughing too loudly. Best luck in the contest!

[bahatumay]

Glorious.
Painful, but glorious.

[Georg]

One untold tale of the disaster involved the pony diplomat who was left behind in Zebrica for the rest of his life because he just could not keep his mouth shut. Instead of taking the explanation of the Zebra at face value, he just had to keep poking and prying on an alternative to the ant theory of combustion. Eventually he came up with a theory that the Zebrican Fire Mouse was actually to blame, a creature similar to the Fire Ant as it reproduced by fission, but was more of a pest and had little use as a common match replacement. The rest of the pony delegation derided him for the foolish idea, and with his reputation in tatters, he remained in the country when the rest of them went home. Over the years, he became an expert in the field of odd Zebrican flora and fauna with several books published and some species actually named after him, but his true claim to fame turned out to be the way he had been left behind as the first example ever of a mouse divided carnot strand.

[Lofty Withers]

Glad to see this doing well. Looking forward to more.

[Nitro Indigo]

I like the world building.

[TheDriderPony]

9693986
Thanks! I trimmed down a few sections as you recommended. Tightened a few descriptions to make them more precise.

[Emil]

9693885
This is the Worst! Possible! Thing!

[AlexTFish]

I saw where this was going once the beautifully set-up living tapestry murals were described as grass walls. As Skeeter says, it's a classic phrase to feghoot upon. But this was still very nicely done. I particularly liked the somewhat detached, historical narration style, which provides a great venue for worldbuilding and also a satisfyingly dry voice in which to give the punchline. Nice one!

[PresentPerfect]

It's too bad this contest has a word-count limit, because this could have made an impressive sprawling epic. :O

[forbloodysummer]

This would be a great story even without the pun

[ROBCakeran53]

I can feel my brain clawing out of my skull.

[Regidar]

That was quite the treat

[Inquisitor M]

Not only did I thoroughly enjoy the setup and the wordplay, but this is probably the best raw writing I've read so far in the competition.

This makes for a happy Scottage.

[Super Trampoline]

A lot of beautiful world building packed into a short word count. The idea of a living grass palace is sick as fuck, and I would love to see you return to the setting sometime. Plus, you know, a joke that made me laugh!

[Soge]

This is painful and delightful in all the right ways.