Follow the Worms

by argomiam

3 – High Society, Low Ponies

March 28th, 1023.

---

Fine dining was something to be appreciated, in Roly Poly’s eyes. It was a show of elegance, a good place to meet good, respectable ponies. It was hardly the nobility that she had known from times spent amongst the unicorns in Canterlot when she was a filly, but there were some very high profile individuals present, something she took quite a lot of pride in, having organised the whole event.

It had been an extension of the Party’s gratitude, more a fancy “be there or be square” for the rich and powerful — other than unicorns, of course. Collaborators mingled with businessponies and party officials, and in the centre was always Roly Poly, in her beautiful flowing dress. She had to admit, she was enjoying the high life. It was so disconnected from the normal mundaneness of the average pony, or even elements of her own party. She loved the charm of handsome aristocrats, and the-

Eugh.

A figure dashed Roly’s daydream. With brown uniform pants, and a terribly out-of-place blue necktie, it was most certainly him.

Gander. Buck.

She almost tried to hide her head, to fade into the crowd. Unfortunately, her decadent blue dress was working against her. Along came the Party’s very own ghost-writer.

“Poly.” It almost made her cringe reflexively. He knew she hated when he called her her second name. “I’m glad you could finally go to the effort of inviting me.” He said, a slight dagger in his tone.

“Likewise, I’m glad you came.” An obvious lie. “Though you know why I don’t invite you frequently, Gander, let’s not be unreasonable.”

“Oh? I do?” He snickered. “First I’m hearing of this.”

“Gander…” Her eyes darted around the room, scanning for anypony watching them. Other than the brief flirtatious glances she got from the young and trust-fund-equipped, they were in the clear. She stood up, fixed her posture, and took her wine glass with her, smiling at any that looked to her. She gestured to a pony across the room, about late-twenties, give or take, and dressed in a dazzling black suit and the pin of a collaborator, moving her hoof in a way that’d indicate she was just going to be a moment. She hurried off, and Gander was left awkwardly following, completely oblivious to ballroom custom.

She stopped in a corner, out of the way and behind a grandiose marble pillar.

“Listen, Gander. I never meant any offence to you. I know your standing on these parties, and… well, me, but-” She sighed exasperatedly. “You’re not proper. Not proper enough for these ponies, anyway. I am. I’m not trying to,” She waved a hoof around for effect. “Run you out of a job, or steal favour from you. This is just a delicate operation. These ponies are jumpy, they are snarky, and they have no care for anything other than excess and decadence.”

Gander was realising why she brought him away from the party now. He nodded his head, still not fully convinced. “Right.”

“Right? Gander, I’m being civil with you. You’re here, and that’s good. They need a reminder of who’s running these parties and why. That’s been my job so far, and I do a damn good job of it, if I do say so myself. But, simply put, I can’t allow you and, uhm,” She cleared her throat, weighing in her head whether or not she should continue, “Respectfully, Light neither, to run around these parties screaming buzzwords and how the communists are ‘really going to kill you’.”

Gander grimaced a little, remembering one of their first more formal parties. Light had talked the bartender into giving him ‘a little more’ than what was typically allocated for an hour’s worth of drink. The result was a wine-sodden shirt, and a rant at the podium about the dynamics between unicorns and Marksism. Not the perfect night.

“You see,” Roly continued, “These ponies are quite delicate. They don’t like the shouting and the jeers that your typical followers love. These are investors, our real source of income. Party donations are crumbs compared to the money these ponies have behind them. So, we have to appease. And I know full well you, Light and Talkie are not ones to appease.”

“Well…” Gander shuffled uncomfortably. “If they’re delicate, as you say, they have no place in the party.” His voice was full of feigned confidence, but it slowly tapered off towards the end, half due to Roly’s unamused look and half due to the fact he caught himself being Light’s mouthpiece.

Roly peered out to the crowd behind the pillar, observing the party-goers and their, in Gander’s opinion, strange mannerisms. She looked back at him, her face changing from one of polite amusement to stone-hearted seriousness. “Gander. Wash your face. Then your hands. Then fix your tie and your shoelaces. Your collar isn’t right at the back, and your jacket’s a mess. Celestia’s sake, Gander, I don’t need to be mothering you. And your breath stinks – fix it. I have deals I need to make.” She placed a mint in his hoof.

And with that, her face was back to its usual cheery disposition. She trotted back to her table, as if nothing had happened. Gander was left absolutely stunned, smelling his breath with a hoof over his mouth and popping the mint in before going to the bathroom to do as instructed.

Standing by the mirror of the fanciest bathroom he had ever seen, Gander got to work fixing just about everything told, and, despite the scrupulous care put into his outfit, everything she had listed needed fixing. Perhaps not all too obvious, but incorrect regardless, the exact sort of thing ponies of this class would notice and laugh behind their backs at.

What miserable ponies. Haven’t they anything better to do?

With a final comb of his hair, and the miraculous avoidance of any other ponies in his almost ten minute makeover, he set out to return, now full of a new anxiety he didn’t know he had until ten seconds prior.

He sat down beside Roly, who had quickly become the only bastion of familiarity in the room. The rest were all alien to him. Different ponies, wildly different backgrounds to him, different class, different tone of voice, different culture. He didn't even know how to talk to them. He was out of his depth. Or, at least, he felt like he was.

A voice brought him back to present. "Gaaander. This is my friend, Red Gemstone. Red Gemstone, this is Proper Gander." Roly had returned with another smarmy, stuck-up looking businesspony. The businesspony, now labelled in his head as Red Gemstone, gave this strange, slightly off-putting grin that you could just tell was forced.

"I've heard a lot of good things about you, Mr. Gander!" Gemstone beamed, sticking his hoof out. For a long second, Gander felt his brain working overtime at what the gesture meant, before he finally clocked it and shook the businesspony's hoof.

"Ah, the pleasure is all mine, Mr. Gemstone." He nodded courteously. "I've always got time for our Party's most wonderful benefactors. What brings you here, hey?"

Roly flashed a genuine smile for a moment. The two were actually talking, and Gander was actually being fairly respectful.

"Well I wouldn't miss an event like this for the world, thanks to our lovely host." He nodded to Roly, who placed a hoof over her chest in a brief 'I'm flattered.' "I attend all these events. I'm a big fan of the Party and what it's promising, as I always did say to Roly here. I'm looking to work with you, you see. I can get you quite a significant backing, I have good ties to industry. And a proper headquarters for your police, eh?"

Gander smiled graciously. He wouldn't mind a better headquarters for himself, too. Of course, the pegasus in front of him was the scum of Equestria, willing to backstab whoever it took to come out on top. But he could notice his air of superiority. He noticed the way he seemed so eager to join, like he thought he could keep them on a leash if he did get his way.

Oh, how he would not let him get his way. The ideas in his head almost made him salivate with power. When they were in charge, especially with how Light was talking, some winged aristocrat would be nowhere near on the same grounds to try to negotiate with him.

Thoughts were put aside, nodding his head and shrugging his shoulders. "That would be grand." He smiled warmly. "Any help for our police is another step to make Equestria a better place, for all of us." He put a particular strain on us, gesturing to the three of them, unsure whether or not to add a wink for effect. No, that'd be too much.

Roly winced. There was no need to highlight the obvious part. Gemstone, however, kept in his charade, laughing slightly. "All the ponies of Equestria, of course." He corrected. "I think you're doing a real good for the common pony. Anypony ensuring the proper etiquette of teaching what a mistake Marksism is to the common is a force worth celebration in my eyes. They do need to be nudged right."

Gander couldn't help but feel his blood boil. He knew this was the sort of pony he had to deal with, but something within him really hadn't let the comment sit right with him.

It wasn't to do with his own views, of course – it was core party dogma. This wasn't the way they treated ponies, they cared for the good of all. They weren't tools. They weren't. Or so he justified in his own mind.

This wasn't the belief he adopted.

But the smile didn't falter. Just another polite nod in this ultra-wealthy song-and-dance. "Yes. It's terrible how unicorn beliefs still infiltrate the minds of so many. We're doing our part guiding them away from its allure."

"Me personally?" Gemstone chimed. "I don't even understand the allure. It promises... what, no work?" He laughed. Roly joined. "See, that's the rot of it all. Work is what gives ponies spirit. Nothing lifts the soul like it. Of all the medications in the world, there's nothing like work."

"Oh, absolutely." Roly added. "Working hard has gotten me through so many rough spots in life. Marksism truly is the poison of the working class."

"Couldn't have put it better." Gander waved his hoof. "That's what it's all about really. Guiding the misguided out of horrible ideologies like that. Things that'll only harm them."

"As you should. Ponies like that, ah... they have to be pushed in the right direction. It's not their fault for buying into it, they were just indoctrinated into some false beliefs."

Every word from the pegasus's mouth made him feel more and more queasy. This was not right. He was on the good side. He considered excusing himself from the conversation, but he knew he had to stick around.

It's alright. It's okay. It's just one deal with the devil.

"Of course." Gander managed to get out. He was well and truly panicking now, and he had no idea why. The stares from across the room, whether accidental or otherwise, were something he was so acutely aware of now.

He didn't believe his ideology was bad. So why was a pony like this so eager to join? Light would have them shot. Damn pegasi. Probably an agent of subversion – sent to test him.

Roly seemed to notice his discomfort through the way he was moving. She looked to Gemstone, smiling. "Well, we hope to work with you some day!"

"The feeling's mutual. Very excited to be a part of a group really making some history." Gemstone replied, seemingly oblivious. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Gander. We'll be in contact, eh?" He stuck out his hoof again, which Gander more swiftly shook this time.

"Of course, of course." He put on his best feigned smile. "Would be wonderful having you a part of this."

Gemstone smiled. "Now, if you don't mind, I've been eying up those hors d'oeuvres for a while now. Give me a shout at any time if you need me."

Roly waved politely. Gander just smiled.

Still grinning, Roly spoke under her breath, through bared teeth. "Gander. With me. Now."

Oh.

Gander downed the rest of his wine, then followed apologetically. They were back behind the pillar.

"What is wrong with you, Gander? What is actually wrong with you?" She unloaded, letting the facade drop. "I ask you to make a deal with a pegasus, right? A pegasus that already wants to join us. And that was the best you could muster?" She threw her front hooves into the air. "O-o-o-o-of c-c-co-course..." She stuttered, mockingly.

"I didn't stutter, what are you talking about?" Gander retorted defensively, unsure whether he had stuttered or not.

"I asked you to make a deal with a pegasus. A pegasus that is in the process of already backing us. I did not ask you to convert bucking Celestia to our cause." She leaned in. "I don't like any of these ponies either, Gander, but the simple truth is that you have to put that aside."

"But these aren't party values. These aren't what-"

Roly cut him off with a hoof. "Maybe not. Maybe Light will nationalise all their assets. Maybe he'll just have them all shot. I don't care, I don't bother myself with it. I'm making deals with them regardless, because that money is critical at a time like this. So suck it up and start making deals."

"These ponies are everything outside my morals!" Gander did his best to muster a whispered shout. "We shouldn't be offering them any deals!"

"All these ponies want is cheap unicorn labour." She sounded exasperated. "Scummy? Oh yes, absolutely. But think on the long term. There's going to be a hell of a lot of unicorns when we're in charge, and it's not like many of them work productive careers. Trust me when I say this, Gander, but if the unicorns got their own way, they would have no qualms doing the exact same for us. I didn't expect to have to lecture you on values you yourself typed up."

He frowned, placing his hoof over his face and considering her words. She was right, obviously. The unicorns would have no issues sending him to a mine if they won out. But still, something about it all disturbed him – it wasn't right, deep in his core – he wasn't the executioner. His throat started to tighten. Was this what he was writing about all along? Auctioning ponies off? It couldn't have been.

He had such grand dreams when he joined. Such wonderful ideas for his new perfect Equestria, free of the wrongs of old. Now the doubts were creeping in again, as they did so many times before. Was this the right choice? Was this truly what Equestria wanted, or, more selfishly, what he wanted?

But it was too late. Too late to back out now. Too late to trust any of those doubts. All he could do was double-down.

"You're right, of course. I just got strong... proto-unicorn feelings about that individual."

"Proto-unicorn." She repeated, getting a feel for the phrase. "Oh, I like that word. But of course I'm right. Now are you ready to show your face again? You're not typically one to let Light down." She jived, pointing a hoof into his chest. She knew Gander’s opinions on Light, how he saw him as some being destined for Equestria’s salvation. “I notice the way you look at him. I don't judge, the heart wants what it wants, but really?”

"Shut. Up." He said through clenched teeth.

No, she didn’t know. What a cretin.

"Good. Now that's over with, I don't expect to have to draw you out here again. They'll talk about it if I do." She put her cheery persona back on. "Right then! Do enjoy more of the wine. It's from Strawberry, you'll adore it."

He returned to his table, and, to his relief, his wine glass had been refilled in his absence. He just took a quiet moment to reflect a little.

The guests at his table clearly didn't think the same.

"Oh, I do love how they managed to procure the good stuff, don't you, Smoke?" A mare across to the left from him had been chatting to a pony with a brown coat and a ridiculously gaudy outfit, top-hat and monocle and all. It looked like the 10th century had gifted him over. That being said, he definitely looked as though he'd witnessed the 10th century. Or maybe the whole of it. He couldn't help but listen to what such stereotypical figures spoke about.

The pony, who the seating arrangement had revealed was called Cigar Smoke, laughed. "Ah yes! It's rare to come by these days! Oh, the changelings do tax it so, and even then, with all the stuff in Griffonia? Absolute rubbish! It's tore the industry asunder, I do tell you. That Grover boy, rah." He swirled wine around his cup, letting it aerate. "Absolute menace." He had a voice that could only be described as wealthy.

"Ah, yes. Though, I suppose he has made it easier to have a vacation over there, wouldn't you say?" The mare responded.

"Vacation, Tiara? Over in Griffonia?" He laughed. "Absolute rubbish, lass! Nothing to see over there, nothing but socialism there anymore. That Grover boy. Tainted by the Republicans, I do say. Filled him with damnable lies about how a nation should be run. He's all soft now, won't stand up for the businesses, the real money makers. And their economy has gone flat with it." He took a long sip of wine, judging it mentally. "Yes, no chance you'd catch me dead vacationing there. Hippogriffia was my destination of choice, though I wouldn't recommend it now. Zebrica's gone to tartarus. It's only here that has any beauty anymore."

He raised the wine glass to Gander, who was silently snacking. "And to you, my friend! In making Equestria great!" He toasted. Gander quickly returned the gesture.

"In making Equestria great." He responded with a smile. Oh, it pained him to converse with such out-of-touch ponies. The stallion before him had probably never known hardship in his, by the looks of things, hundred year life.

He just wanted to go home. He wanted to take this damned uniform off and leave this strange performance.

The three shared the toast, Gander speaking up again. "And might I add, a toast to Stop Light."

"Oh, yes! Cheers!" Tiara beamed, taking a sip of her wine. "Oh, delightful. Really delightful. Isn't this all just grand? It's been so rare having a proper party like this since the Ch-"

Smoke cut her off with a nasty glare, visible to even Gander. He almost felt like he should be quiet too.

"Let's not badmouth our wonderful benefactors..." Smoke spoke hushed. "But, Mr. Gander, if I may ask, where is Mr. Light? We do so love his speeches, don't we, Tiara?"

Tiara nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, he's wonderful. It's lovely seeing such a passionate pony speaking what needs to be said. Unicorn rule has gone on long enough!"

"It has, truly. Look at this crowd! When I was but a colt, it was only Canterlot able to put on displays like this. I remember, I always wanted to go to a show. Now I own the theatres around here, and hopefully, with the way the Party for Grand Equestrian Restoration are looking to change things, I hope to run many more!" Smoke laughed, drinking more of his wine. "I must invite you to one of them, Mr. Gander. I'll have my writers make a play in this Party's honour when the time comes."

"Oh, that would wonderful, Mr. Smoke." Gander clasped his hooves together. "But I can't wait for it. We're hoping that time should come quite soon, with the way the winds are blowing. But, to answer your question, Light isn't feeling all that well tonight, I'm afraid."

"Ah, shame about Light. Grand to hear that it'll be soon though, but I must ask," Smoke leaned in. "I've heard... rumours, if you will, that that will involve a lot of, how do you say..." He held his hooves up, looking like he was about to start boxing. "Fisticuffs, if you will. All I ask is that whenever that time comes, you give me notice. I've been looking to have a little vacation with my most exquisite wife, and it'd be terrible if any of that interfered."

Gander smiled, having to stop himself. Coward. Fiend. So many words he could use to describe such a person. He almost wished Walkie Talkie was here. He wished he was more powerful. He wished he could have such a despicable individual lined up against the wall. "Ah, of course. You're well informed! Well, we would hate to start anything, but..." He shrugged. "Sometimes things need to be solved and you can't talk them out. We promise, regardless of whatever happens, your interests will be protected."

All in time. All in time. That was the only thing he felt like he ever thought any more. When was time? When could he finally call the damn shots?!

Roly returned, and with her was Red Gemstone again. She gestured for Gander to come with them. Gander waved to the two ponies, which in turn bid their farewells.

"Gander, I was just having a chat with our lovely benefactor." She grinned. Gander could tell it was genuine. She was onto something. "Would you like to propose it, Gemstone?"

"Ah, of course, Roly." Gander was a bit disturbed with the first-name basis between the two. "Well, I'd love to work with you. But, I have just a tiny request. You see, my workers. Lovely individuals, but they're so easily swayed. They've had these... strange ideas, thinking they know what's good for themselves." He waved his hoof. "I know, I know. Silly. But, I had a team figure it all out, and we've found there's a little Marksist group in the area. Underground, no doubt you've heard of them with your... contacts."

How did he know about that? How much was Roly talking, stars?

"So, I just want you to fix that for me. They've had all these... rabble-rousing ponies come and spread their seditious ideals. I just pray something did fix it. That'd certainly free up my wallet a little." He winked.

Well, at the very least, Talkie would love this. Light too, most likely. Hay, it would earn him a fair bit of favour. He let a proper smile creep across his face.

"Ahh. Well, we can't be having that." Gander nodded, understandingly. "I'll have a few words. See what I can do."

The industrialist before him smiled – despite how in the air it was about whether these smiles were practiced or just some genuinely jolly pony, he could discern that his machinations coming to life clearly brought him some satisfaction. "Wonderful. I'll be in touch. Do tell me the cost of any operations. I'll be sure to throw in a pretty penny."

Well, he'd look forward to hearing about the after-action report from all this, that would certainly be something.

---

The night stretched on not much longer. Many returned home in the later hours, but by midnight, the two hosts were left, apart from the occasional young dandy that had had one too many off mother's watch, in relative solace, chewing over the things they'd heard and plans they'd made collectively. It was a highly successful night, all in all. It had a good turnout, everypony seemed quite happy, and they'd secured a good amount of funds they could later use. Everything added up, in the end.

"Roly?" Gander slumped in his seat. He'd been there, on edge, anxious as a foal, for the better part of four hours now. It was safe to say he was exhausted.

"Gander?" She replied, waiting for his question. She seemed a lot more put together, a fact which Gander envied somewhat. Six hours of managing what was, for him, the worst of the worst was no easy task. He had a newfound respect for her.

"I think I understand why you don't invite the rest of us now."

"I could tell." She replied, plainly. She was never a big drinker at events like this, which was surprising considering she out-drank even Walkie, who had almost half-a-foot on her – half-a-foot more pony the alcohol had to run through. Still, she enjoyed the occasional glass. Now, however? She was practically taking anything half-drank and downing it herself.

"You're not a bad speaker, Gander. You dealt with Red quite well."

"Hold on, hold on." Gander cut her off, now more than a few glasses in himself. "The first names. How come you keep using his first name? How come he keeps using your first name?"

"We've known each other a while, Gander." She snorted. "And if you're inferring what I think you are; firstly, gross; secondly, no I have not."

"That's not what I was inferring, but thank you for getting it out of the way." He leaned back. "This wine is damn good."

"It's not from Strawberry. I lied. Griffonian wine is shocking. That's why everyone enjoyed it."

"It's not? But you were telling everyone-"

"Strawberry has more prestige to it. Besides, nopony knows the difference, despite what they may say. This is just... a particularly fine Strawberry wine."

"So where's it actually from? Wingbardy?"

"Prance?" She shrugged. "I don't know. Nor care. I just thought it tasted better myself. It's somewhere in Equestria."

Gander actually laughed, just about the first genuine laugh of a whole night of faking them. "Why the hay would you lie about that, you dunce?"

"Well, it's more prestige, isn't it?" She slouched back herself, finishing another collected glass and setting it aside to the amounting hill of glasses on their table they'd had collectively.

"I guess." He held a glass in his hooves, holding it to his eye and looking through it. "I just don't get what the point was. We can afford the actual thing."

"Forty bottles at a hundred bits per bottle? Four thousand bits on wine, Gander? We're not made of money." She exclaimed, hiccuping with how fast she had spoken. "What are you gonna do, sick Light on me?" She made an exaggerated frown, leaning over the table at him.

"Stop it, Roly." He smiled slightly. "The way you talk about him with me makes it sound like we're a married couple."

She smirked, finding her opportunity to jab at him again. "Is that not what you want?"

"Stars, Roly, no. I just admire him. That's all." He crossed his hooves. Maybe? He wasn't sure. Never thought about it very deeply. But that moment on the balcony had to mean something.

"Right." She said, already pouring herself the last of another bottle. "Admire him you certainly do."

The hangover would not be forgiving in the morning.