Princess and Pariah

by Taialin

Interregnum

Maybe I ought to find a co-ruler.

It's not so much that the work I have to do on any given day is overwhelming—Horolog does a great job managing my schedule even at the worst of times—it's that nopony is there to take up the slack should I, well, slack. Spike is helpful as ever, but he's still an assistant—not to mention Equestria would never tolerate a dragon leading them for any significant amount of time.

And then there's the matter that the Ministries that wanted time with you for one reason or other still want time with you when you're back. Every. Single. One of them.

"Mister Trotsky," I begin, "all I can say to you is to give them a chance. You know I've made it a city ordinance to accommodate creatures of all species and all types, right? And this is Equestria's officially sanctioned orchestra. Yes, you are managing the performance at Canterbury Hall, and yes, the Philharmonic has been traditionally only unicorns. I understand that. But that doesn't make it right that you won't release the 'budget' of non-unicorn members that may be admitted or even allowed to audition."

"But think about how that would dilute our culture!" Trotsky says, a grey stallion with a bushy beard I'd almost be intimidated by. "Unicorns have always been purveyors of the art, just as pegasi have been stewards of the sky and earth ponies have, well, been farmers of the ground. And other species, well, who's to say their music is even suitable for us ponies?"

Some of the other members of the Ministry nod in assent. Most though, I can observe, are looking at Trotsky nervously. I suppose there is a level of blasé even the most traditional of unicorns will catch onto. Most nonsense in the Ministries I have to let slide simply because there's so much of it, but right now, I'm in no mood to entertain.

I twitch an ear. I maintain a formal decorum, a Princess' countenance, voice level as if giving a speech. "Mister Trotsky, I understand we have a relationship that goes farther back than most. You engaged me several times in discussions about music theory when I was still Celestia's student, one of the few things I was interested in. But—" I let a careful bit of my ire seep through "—I'd appreciate it if you didn't insinuate that as an alicorn, I didn't represent all three races of Equestria, and, as its leader, I didn't look out for them in addition to every other species that calls Equestria home."

Trotsky goes pale, realizing his mistake. I don't like to pull that card often, but this isn't the first time I've heard this argument either.

I sigh and continue, letting my expression return to neutrality. "As the Philharmonic represents the best musicians Equestria has to offer, it should represent everyone in it. And that's everyone, not just everypony.

"And . . ." I frown. "Isn't your composer-in-residence, your long-time friend from the Canterlot Conservatory, and the one who wrote your most recent symphony, a griffon?"

Trotsky doesn't need to nod to tell me I'm right. He must not have expected me to do my research.

"Just because you're not familiar with the yovidaphone doesn't mean it can't make beautiful music in the right hooves. Or have you heard of the hippogriffs and their glass harmonicas? They're beautiful, even moreso if you ever have the opportunity to listen to a concert underwater. Or that of . . ." I pause, thinking about my personal library. The library with a new volume.

I shake my head. "Excuse me. That of the kirin and their morning songs. Few kirin are raised to be musicians, but they can all come together to create a beautiful symphony with each other."

A nearly inaudible sound on my left from a pony clearing her throat tells me to wrap things up. Thank goodness.

I get up and make a show of stretching. Horolog gets up with me. "I'm afraid that's all the time I can spare for you today. I need to get going." As I walk off, I say, "Just . . . give things a shot, okay? Make this next season's open audition truly open. And listen with an open mind. Close your eyes, even, if that helps. I think you'll be surprised."

I don't wait to hear whether anypony protests, my patience having run thin about four meetings ago. As soon as I'm out of the room, I let out an inglorious groan, not caring about whether anyone hears me. "Anything else for the Princess?" I gripe sarcastically, asking no one in particular.

Horolog, attentive and as ever, answers the question anyway, pulling out a notepad. "No, Your Highness." She scribbles something down on it. "You have nothing else scheduled for today, unless you count the private study time you asked me to block off for you. You have a briefing with the Central Canterlot Intelligence two hours before sunrise tomorrow, so I'd suggest turning in early tonight."

'Oh, thank Cel—well, thank me, I guess." We arrive at the doors to my personal chambers in short order. "And thank you, Horolog. You really are a lifesaver. I appreciate you, you know, keeping the country running while I was gone. That can't have been easy for you to manage."

If she's upset about my unplanned disappearance or pleased with my laudatory words, she doesn't express either. She only offers a bow and says, "I live to serve you, Princess."

"You can turn in early, Horolog. I shouldn't have any more need for you tonight. Thanks again for your help."

Horolog bows again before leaving. I frown, distracted by an errant thought. I'm just now counting the number of times she and other ponies have bowed to me or Celestia and comparing that to the number of times it's served a functional purpose—it's not a great ratio.

I huff and enter my chambers. Horolog might have been advising me to sleep early to prepare for tomorrow—a recommendation I'd be happy to take any other day—but evenings are the few times I actually have time to myself.

I step inside and crumple onto the plush carpet in a heap. Silently, I light my horn and bring over the newest addition to my library: History and Magic of the Stream of Silence.

If only I could clear out my schedule so I'd have more time to study this. But Horolog made it very clear that I'd already burned virtually all the goodwill I had from my previous non-stop study sessions and my unscheduled escapade. Everypony wants my time now, and they won't wait. If I asked her, she'd figure out a way to do it, I'm sure. And I'm tempted, I definitely am. But I don't know how many more times I can put my head down and ignore Equestria before someone breaks down my door.

In any case, I use the little time I've carved out for myself to crack open the tome and read what Rain Shine spent so many days and nights creating for me:

Formation
For as long as kirin and their ancestors have settled on Da Huangdi Shan, the Stream has blessed them with life and prosperity. Its formation can be attributed to the Great Founder of the kirin, Sheng Mofa. She created the Stream when she was foraging for her family. A bolt of lightning struck the ground, igniting the trees and bushes. Sheng Mofa was unable to stop the fire, and it quickly spread. The fire devoured the forest of the mountain and the plains around it, leaving everything unfit for even the smallest of animal.

When she returned home to ascertain the safety of her family, she found they had all perished, along with the thatched home which had been in her family for generations. She spent three moons weeping, and her tears created the Stream. Even so, she could not live with her sorrow, and she chose to lose herself in the water. Her love bestowed upon The Stream the properties that make it as it is today.

While not the only source of water at Da Huangdi Shan, its properties make it an excellent location for settlement of civilization. The water is particularly fertile and creates excellent farming conditions when used for irrigation and watering. It also does not flood or drought, unlike the other rivers at Da Huangdi Shan. Neither does it wander or create new streams as rocks and ground wear away. For as long as kirin have settled near the river, it has never deviated from its path, making it a consistent and dependable resource.

The Stream is wholly responsible for the lush foliage and fertile grounds of Da Huangdi Shan. It keeps its lifeforce concentrated on the mountain, creating a fertile area over one hundred shouts across. Da Huangdi does not benefit from the Stream and thus remains unfit for civilization. What water sources it does have are cursed, polluted, and prone to vices the Stream does not have. They cannot sustain a settlement. Thus, Da Huangdi forms a vast natural barrier that discourages roaming tribes from wandering inside and disrupting the harmony Da Huangdi Shan. Travelers must know what is at Da Huangdi Shan and be determined enough to make the journey.

The first civilizations at—

I start as my door crashes open.

"Princess!" a gruff and demanding voice calls from behind me.

I take a deep breath. Slowly, I close the tome before me. So much for that. My door's being broken into already. I speak in a warning tone, not bothering to hide my frustration at being interrupted. "This has better be good." I turn around and immediately recognize the lanky build and pretentious demeanor of the stallion who broke into my chambers. Chancellor Neighsay. My annoyance grows threefold.

I frown. "What's so urgent that you needed to break into my personal chambers in the middle of the night to tell me? Why shouldn't I call the guards to escort you out? You have ten seconds: start talking." I normally wouldn't be this rude, but, well, rudeness greets itself with rudeness, and I don't have the patience for him today.

Chancellor Neighsay growls, then says, "Your secretary wouldn't let me near you today."

Gee, I wonder why.

Suddenly, he produces a large tome of his own and slaps it down in front of me. I read the title just as Neighsay says it: "Friendship School Spring Budget." The tome glows a faint orange as he flips through the pages. "The meeting to finalize the budget was supposed to be a week ago," he growls to me. "You were not in attendance."

"And?" I ask.

"And!?" he asks incredulously. "We've been planning the meeting for moons. Moons, Princess! You were supposed to approve it! You were needed to approve it!" He settles on a page of the tome near the back, neatly showcasing a line with an "X" in front of it. Conspicuously, it calls for a signature, but there's nothing written there.

I stifle a snort of derision. "Chancellor, you're the head of the Equestrian Education Association. You know more about the education system than I do. If I'm not there, you have the authority to sign the budget for me. You and the Ministry have the mandate, and you should know that."

"'I have the mandate,' she says! Well, Princess, if I do know more about the education system than you do, allow me to educate you. The Friendship School was one that you chartered and constructed by yourself. I was only made aware of the school after you already created it, and it was over my—initial—protests that it continues to exist. It was never made under EEA guidelines, and it exists beyond its oversight.

Tell me something I don't know. We both know you're still upset you don't get to control it.

"That is how it continues to operate—outside the auspices of the EEA and Ministry of Education. We have no direct say in how it operates, only recommendations and guidelines—and this is by your express wishes. Celestia first provided a grant to you to construct and operate the school, but it, as does any school, requires continuous funding to operate. The Ministry of Education does not approve funding for the Friendship School. The Crown does."

All of the sudden, the annoyance and frustration I felt towards Neighsay vanishes. I have reason to be annoyed at him most of the time, but not when he has a point I can't argue with. I reach the same conclusion long before he spells it out.

Chancellor Neighsay puts on a grim sort of smile. "Say what you will about me, Princess. We have our disagreements. But I do care about the proper education of our ponies of Equestria and whomever else you think should tag along. You did not express your approval of the budget before you left on your little escapade. You did not provide any interim funding. You did not even ask to delay the meeting. The Ministry has its hooves tied when it comes to administering your school. And that is why it is by your negligence that the Friendship School will not be operating for the next semester.

"Already, students and their parents have asked the Ministry why school has not reopened for them. We cannot answer them—this school is not an EEA school. We can only say the Princess did not approve funding for it. Since she has complete executive control of the school, she makes the choices regarding its operations. The choice to staff it, the choice to fund it, and the choice to shut it down. I do not envy the task you have ahead, explaining to the press, your instructors, and your students why the school will not be opening."

My heart sinks at every word Neighsay says. I don't have a snippy response to counter them, either. Because they're all true. Some part of me must have been aware that all this was happening back home—I just chose not to think about that part. Already, I can think of many more consequences Neighsay didn't mention.

The School's not been operational for very long, and it's still trying to form a reputation for itself in the eyes of Equestria and other nations. Being endorsed by a Princess but not Equestria's own Ministry gave it a mixed reputation from the very start, a hole it's still trying to climb out of. The fact it's shutting down now, even if temporarily, isn't going to do that any favors. Students will be concerned about its stability.

It reflects poorly on me, too. Starlight might be Headmare now, but I'll always play an integral part in it, just as Celestia did for her School for Gifted Unicorns. My name might as well be on the school, like hers. I could have harmonized the school with the EEA once I began governing, but I chose to keep it separate—the farther away the school could stay from Neighsay and his restrictive policies, the better. It shouldn't have been a problem, and in every other circumstance, it wouldn't. What does it say about me, the Princess of Friendship, when I chose to keep the Friendship School in my sole hooves and out of the hooves of politics, and I still couldn't keep it running? What could others say about me, a new and inexperienced leader, if they were already skeptical?

Neighsay must have read the mortification on my face. He nods duly. "You see why I felt I had to interrupt you at the first opportunity?"

I nod numbly.

Neighsay bows quickly and shallow, just enough to skirt around irreverence. "The Ministry lives to serve. But I'm afraid that right now, Princess, you are on your own."

Once he leaves my chambers, I bury my face in my hooves.

---

Comments

[protator]

This is rather illogical. If his ministry isn't administering the school then he shouldn't be pissy about this, it's none of his business.
It was Starlight's job to secure interim funding until Twilight could take care of the paperwork.

Also: Are her guards asleep? Noone should be able to waltz into her chambers, whether their reason for the intrusion is good or not.

[emzzy123]

ohh, interesting!, love how your using this chapter to show how Twilights constant pursuit of a cure for tempest is starting to have a detrimental effect on other things she cares about