Luna tackles modern mercantilism. Celestia wishes she had hidden the palace supply of coffee.
Reforming the tax and legal system had been her responsibility a thousand years ago, and it will be so again. There have been many changes during her millennium of absence, but the fundamentals always stayed the same. Ponies would find ways to circumvent the laws for their own benefit, and it was her job to make sure that didn't happen—in the most direct way possible.
Accounting was overrated. Organising the vast amount of books that contained all of Equestrian law would scare even the most diligent of clerks. She, however, was no mere clerk, nor mortal for that matter. Reforming the tax and legal system had been her responsibility a thousand years ago, and it would be so again. There had been many changes during the millennium, but the fundamentals always stayed the same. Ponies would find ways to circumvent the laws for their own benefit, and when the laws changed to plug the loopholes, they often caused more problems, requiring even more legislation.
For instance, the need for the recent law against couples ‘rolling in the hay’ in barns came after a recent food scandal, where it was found out that hay fries here in Canterlot sometimes contained substances that weren’t very hygienic or appetizing.
The law itself was dumb and pointless. There would be no need for it if there were more coherent laws at the base that said only approved of substances were allowed in the making or storing of various food products. Much simpler. Although she doubted it would solve the issue of adolescent ponies sneaking out of the house to cuddle in the barn at night, and some things in pony nature were best left unchanged.
Of course, she was under no illusion that laws would stay simple just because she tried making them so. Just like before her banishment, these things could quickly spiral out of control, and sometimes all you could do was take the best of many bad choices. Occasionally, you needed a bad law to make several good ones work, but it often prompted ponies to walk into her court and accuse her of injustice, and they weren’t entirely wrong.
The tax system was also something that needed some kind of reform, since the economy had grown hundredfold since her banishment. Newer concepts like the stock market intrigued her, and if she had the inclination, she could probably make an extreme fortune in a few hundred years or so, since being immortal was almost cheating when it came to long-term investing and interest on interest.
The largest company in the market was easily the West Pony Trading Company. The WPTC employed tens of thousands of workers, owned almost a hundred trade ships and caravans, possessed a vast amount of land, estates, and factories spread out across and beyond Equestria.
It was one of the many wonders of these times, when she could go outside the castle and into an open market to find rare goods like saffron, cinnamon, and coffee beans at affordable prices. In her age, those items were rare and extremely expensive, and even the royal palace would have issues obtaining such luxuries. Now trade ships bursting with cargo arrived every day in the ports of Manehattan, Vanhoover, and Baltimare, cities that had been mere hamlets so long ago.
The mug on her desk was empty, which was unacceptable when dealing with legislation. “Haywood!” she called, to her secretary outside the office. “This coffee mug is empty, so head to the kitchen at once and bring me another one.”
Haywood’s head appeared in the corner, and stared at the dozen empty mugs spread haphazardly across her desk, right next to the growing amount of paper stacks. The twitching of his white mustache and bushy eyebrows made his thoughts evident.
“Yes, Princess. I will fetch one more, but that will be the last, or I will tell your sister that you have a caffeine problem.”
“You wouldn’t dare! Not that my sister would ever interfere with my intake of the black gold!" She slammed her hoof onto the table for emphasis. "If she does, I will remind her of the time she mismanaged that overseas colony, urging them to increase production until they got so fed up that they threw all their stock of sugarcanes into the sea.”
Haywood rolled his eyes and went to it, leaving her to tackle with the current crises to Equestria. For some unknown reason, there was a lack of bits in circulation, and traders couldn't find enough coins to use when buying or selling. It forced them to trade goods for goods instead, which was a slow and inefficient system—and they were getting quite vocal about it. The bankers claimed there were more than enough physical bits to go around, but they neglected to mention that their own reserves of coin were alarmingly low.
The only way this situation could have arisen was if someone falsified reports on the current amount of coins, or simply took a few hundred million bits and dumped them in the river without anyone knowing. The former she had already checked out thoroughly, and the latter was too impractical to pull off. You would need to be richer than the state itself to manage such a feat.
‘Richer than the state,’ she thought and grabbed a financial report with her magic. It detailed the expected value of each company in Equestria, and at the top was the WPTC. There existed a suspect with the economic means to pull this off—
“Your coffee, Princess,” Haywood said, after appearing next to her in a flash of magic. With him was a tray that held a steaming mug filled with the nectar of the gods.
She gave him a smile so broad that the gray unicorn backed away a few steps. “Haywood, go get me the list of stock owners for the West Pony Trading Company. It’s hunting time.”
“Princess, I’m not sure I understand,” he said, while levitating the coffee cup over to her desk. “The company has two major shareholders that I know of: The Rich Foundation and Warranty Buffé.”
“And who owns the biggest block of shares between the two?” she asked, in between sips.
“That would be the Rich family, who owns about thirty percent of the company.” He straightened his orange tie. “It was the family that founded the company two hundred years ago. Not-So Rich I think his name was, who first charted the trading routes to Saddle Arabia.”
“And who is the current leader of the Rich family and where do they reside in Equestria?”
“The current head is Filthy Rich, who lives with his wife Spoiled Rich in a mansion outside of Ponyville—” Haywood was about to say more when the large window in the office was flung open.
“No time to waste, then!” she cheered, and grabbed him in her magic. “It’s always best to investigate these things at the source.”
“What are you—” he yelped, as she unfurled her wings and sent paper flying all over the office.
She wasted no time and flew out of the window, with Haywood floating alongside her in a telekinetic field. The outside air was chilly due to the altitude they were at, and the muscles in her wings twitched at the prospect of flying. Scanning the landscape below, she found her target—the only mansion near Ponyville. She angled herself in that direction and accelerated at a speed that would make a Wonderbolt jealous.
Once down on the grass, she remembered that Haywood was with her, and noted that he had been upside-down the entire flight. The old stallion seemed like he had been screaming, but to his credit, he could still stand up after she released him.
“Oh, don’t be such a fuzz,” she told him. “I know full well what a daredevil you were in your youth, that’s the main reasons I hired you.”
“Y-yes, when I was a young stallion,” he panted, legs shaking beneath him. He looked back at his skateboard cutie mark. “Nowadays, I prefer calm conversations with the missus in front of the fireplace.”
“Hmpf, I know you loved it even if you won’t admit it.”
“Uh, Princess,” he said, looking around. “Was it so wise to land us within the walls of the mansion?”
A quick survey of the gardens made her realize that they were being stared at by various ponies. First was a pair of fillies holding a pretend tea party with some stuffed animals, while further away was a bunch of mares holding a real one. She was about to greet them when two armored pegasi landed next to her.
“Hold it right there, you are trespassing on—” The pegasus stallion found out who he was addressing and promptly bowed. “Princess Luna! I am so sorry, we thought there was an intruder on the premises, we weren't informed that you were visiting.”
The pegasi pair weren't equipped with the standard golden Royal Guard armor; instead, they used the brown painted version indicating that they were privately employed. The fact that there were armored guards not under the direct command of the Crown was a subject she was conflicted about. There were some obvious benefits, as they were mostly employed to protect ships and caravans outside of Equestria’s borders and could do so without implicating the state. It was not uncommon for Royal Guards to take a break from duty and sign a three-year contract with the WPTC; it was actually encouraged in many cases, as the guards often obtained valuable real-life experiences, something that could be difficult if you simply guarded a door all your life.
The issue was that the WPTC and similar companies constantly expanded, which exponentially increased the need for more protection. The privately employed guards were technically still only civilians, as they were only authorized to defend themselves or whatever they guarded—the trend however, was still problematic. She remembered all the trouble that sellswords and mercenary bands got themselves into during the founding of Equestria.
“I am here on important matters of state,” she asked the guards, who were now looking at each other. “Where can I find Filthy Rich?”
“He is in his study, but we were ordered not to disturb him,” the other guard said, to which she simply raised an eyebrow. “B-but of course, I am sure he has time for you, Your Majesty, please follow me.”
The pair lead them through the main entrance of the lavish mansion. The main hall alone was riddled with artwork that no doubt trumped the palace in terms of expensiveness. The guards continued to escort them through the place, with maids and butlers bowing at every corner.
The trip ended at a private library, which contained an impressive amount of shelves stocked full with books. Haywood gaped openly, and couldn’t stop himself from pulling one out: It was a book about agriculture.
They found Filthy Rich sitting alone behind a desk, writing in a large ledger. There were dark bags under his eyes, so she made a mental note to help soothe his dreams in the future.
“Mr. Rich, you have an important visitor,” the guard said, causing Filthy to look up and his eyes to widen. “We will stay outside the door to ensure your privacy,” the guard continued, then both stallions left the room, closing the door behind them.
“P-Princess Luna, what an unexpected pleasure. If I had known you would visit, I would have—” Filthy stopped himself when she held up a hoof.
“No need for pleasantries, Filthy. I am simply here to ask a few questions about the WPTC and your ownership in it,” she said, in a not-so-friendly tone. “I am certain you are aware of the recent lack of bits in the system, and I have reason to believe that the WPTC is involved.”
Filthy gulped and his eye looked around frantically. “I-I, I mean, the WPTC would never do anything to hurt the economy, that would basically be self-sabotage.”
Haywood stopped flipping pages in the agriculture book. “Mr. Rich, what new deals has the WPTC done this last year?” he inquired.
“D-deals? They’ve made three or four deals recently, but you would need to ask the board of directors in Vanhoover if you want details.”
“Just give us the broad picture, Rich,” she pressed, while leaning over the front of the desk. The height advantage allowing her to look down on him menacingly.
“Uh, yes, Princess Luna,” he said, then closed the ledger he'd been working on. “They've constructed another trade port on the coast of Zebrica, established a new caravan route to a settlement in the Badlands, bought two ironworks from the Minotaurs, and negotiated trading rights to export wood to Gryphonstone from a lumber mill in Rosenwood.”
She leaned in closer and narrowed her eyes. “I’ve never heard of any settlements in the Badlands.”
The light in room seemed to dim as Filthy squirmed in his chair. “Some company-employed cartographers found it last month. The settlement was apparently founded by a group of earth ponies a few years ago. They were in a desperate state, so the mayor of Dodge City authorized the WPTC to send out a caravan with supplies.”
“And why would the WPTC involve themselves in aid work?” Haywood interjected. “There is nothing of value out there. It’s just barren ground, except for a few oases.”
It didn't seem like Filthy wanted to answer, until he saw her disapproving eyebrows and whizzing tail. “Uh, actually they make a green gunk from cacti, or something, that works like an excellent adhesive. They trade the stuff for basic supplies."
“One more question, and we will leave,” she said. “Do you know anyone who may be responsible for manipulating the amount of bits in circulation.”
Filthy sweated visibly now. “I-I don’t know anyone who would want to harm the Equestrian economy,” he said, obviously tiptoeing around the subject.
She leaned in until they were face to face. “Answer my question with a yes, or no. Well? Do you?”
“Y-yes, I may know who could be behind it,” he said, while his ears and tail sagged.
“Who?” she pressed.
“It could be Gordon Rich,” he said, and let out a long sigh. “Gordon lives in Vanhoover, and he is the true leader behind the scenes of the WPTC and the Rich family.”
“I thought you were the head of the Rich family?” Haywood asked, looking genuinely bewildered. “I’ve never heard of any Gordon Rich, and the name doesn’t even sound like a pony’s.”
“I’m the head only in name,” Filthy continued, dejectedly. “Gordon Rich was adopted into the Rich family a long time ago.”
The wealthy stallion was clearly stressed out and shaken, and she decided that further pressuring him was unnecessary.
“Thank you for your help, Filthy,” she said, sincerely. “I think I will go meet this Gordon.” She turned to leave. “Come along Haywood, we have our next destination.”
The secretary seemed sceptical at the prospect of visiting Vanhoover. The city was on the westernmost coast of Equestria, and travel by train would take at least half a day.
The guards were still outside the door of Filthy’s study and escorted them outside the mansion. When the gate closed behind them, Haywood was the first to break the silence.
“You do know that Filthy could have just legally thrown you out, right? The law nowadays prevents even a princess from just waltzing into someone's home and bullying them into doing what they want.”
She frowned. “Hmfp, I did no such thing. I simply encouraged him to share information with me. If he wanted to keep quiet, I would have respected that.”
“And what about how the light in the room faded?”
“He shouldn't use so many candles in a library, it’s a fire hazard.”
“I’m sure I heard the walls creak at one point,” he deadpanned.
“Fine! I may have gone slightly overboard,” she mumbled, “but let's not waste time dwelling on the past. We have a new destination!” She posed with her right hoof held high in the air, pointing in the general direction of Vanhoover.
“I doubt there are many trains this late, and it's almost suppertime,” he said, as she unfurled her wings. “I recommend we travel there tomorrow, when the—” He finally noticed that he was surrounded by a blue glow. “Oh no—” was the last thing she heard him say as they both soared westwards through the air.
It was obvious he was unhappy with their current predicament. After their quick and easy flight to Vanhoover, they had failed to locate the residence of Gordon Rich. It should have been easy finding someone who likely lived in a lavish manor, but even after a quick visit to the census in town hall, they had ended up without an address.
“Cheer up, Haywood,” she said, cheerfully. “I am confident we will have solved this mystery by tomorrow. The night is my time, and no one can hide from me.”
Haywood looked unimpressed; it almost seemed like he was losing faith in his employer. Granted, the night wasn't very impressive when the only open restaurant was a cramped and shady corner pizzeria, with only a single uncleaned table to sit at. In addition, she had unceremoniously stuck her head out of the window for a few seconds so she could raise the moon, then promptly resumed stuffing herself with greasy pizza and watered down coffee—which had left a less than desirable impression on him.
“So, how long do you think before ponies start protesting outside the palace because of the lack of bits?” she continued, hoping to shift the focus away from their miserable situation.
“Maybe a week,” he droned, while unenthusiastically levitating around his fork in the pizza salad. “Longer, if we add a night-shift to the goldmines and increase our minting capacity.” There was some grease stuck in his grey coat of fur, but she thought it would be best not to mention it.
“The night is young, and we still have one more place to visit. WPTC HQ!” she cheered.
Haywood looked at her with tired eyes. “They’re closed,” he said.
“Irrelevant, and you will soon find out why.”
—
It was almost pitch dark outside when they walked towards the thirty story office building, and they had yet to resolve an argument from the pizzeria.
“Princess, ponies don't haggle at restaurants anymore.”
“That is ridiculous! The coffee was so bland I deserved half the price off.” She snorted and lifted her head high in indignation. The motion and the darkness almost caused her horn to collide with an unseen branch that stuck out from a tree next to the pavement.
“If it was so bad, why did you order more than one?” he questioned, and stumbled slightly on a soda-can.
“What choice did I have? Everywhere else is closed,” she complained. “Regardless, we have arrived.” The tall building appeared dark and empty, but a few of the offices still had their lights on, including one at the top.
They walked through the unlocked main entrance and were immediately confronted by an older security pony in brown armor. “The building is closed, please come back tomorrow,” he said.
“I am Princess Luna,” she stated, in her most regal voice. “I need to urgently meet with the pony in charge.”
He gave her a short bow. “Apologies, I know who you are Princess, but you will have to come back tomorrow.”
“You would deny your Princess?” she asked, moving closer to him.
"Yes, Princess, you will need to come back tomorrow and schedule an appointment,” he said, with a steady voice. She could tell that he must have worked at the palace at some point in his life.
“Are you sure?” she flirted, eyelashes winking seductively. “I would consider it a great service if you would let us in.” She walked pass him and gave him a slight touch of her tail on his cheek.
Blushing slightly, the guard faced her. “Yes, I am sure,” he said, and made a gesture at the entrance. “Allow me to escort you out of the building.”
“Hmpf, why does that only work for Cadance?” she asked, outside once more. Haywood was about to answer, but kept his mouth shut after receiving a glare from her.
“So, what now?” he yawned, eyes slightly red-shot. “Can we please head to a hotel and come back in the morning?”
"Nonsense, we simply have to take a more direct approach.” She jumped into the air and flew towards the top of the building, where she horned in on the top office that still had it’s lights on. Once she got there, she peered through the window and found an overweight pony with glasses sitting behind a large desk, doing paperwork. The stallion leapt high into the air when she knocked loudly on the window.
The poor earth pony looked like he had a heart attack, but soon collected himself and slowly made his up to the windows, then opened one when he saw who was hovering outside.
“Princess Luna?” he asked. “Am I dreaming? Did I fall asleep on the job again?”
The stallion seemed terrified by the prospect of sleeping on the job. There never were any ponies with a pie-chart cutie mark back in her days, and she wondered if they were all workaholics. In any case, she approved.
“You are not. I, Princess Luna, have come to seek your aid against a terrible foe,” she declared, this time utilizing her most ominous voice. “A great evil stands at our doorstep, and we need your aid specifically. May I enter your office so we can discuss it further?”
“M-me?” he stammered. “O-of course Princess, come inside.” The stallion backed away so she could enter, although she barely managed to squeeze through. Once inside, she stuck her head out and looked down at Haywood standing in the street. Picking him up in her magic, she quickly accelerated him up to her level, then tossed him inside the office, pleased that he managed not to scream this time.
“W-What’s going on here?” the office pony asked, looking like he wanted to run to the intercom and call for security.
“Calm yourself,” she said, while walking over to his desk. She scanned the area until she found the name tag. “Director Stock Chart. I have come to personally ask your help in finding a certain pony, and I believe only you can help us.”
Stock Chart raised an eyebrow. “Who?”
“We are searching for the pony named Gordon Rich, and it’s of crucial importance to the realm that we find him.” There were several maps of the city lining one of the walls, but most of them only highlighted trade ports or cargo-deposits. Picking one that had sections of residential areas, she levitated it to him. “Show us on this map where we might find him.”
“Gordon Rich, the investor?” he questioned. “I have no idea where he lives.”
“Surely you must know where one of your largest stockholders resides?” Haywood asked, having just recovered from his rapid ascent of the building.
“The only pony from the Rich family I’ve met is Filthy,” he said. “And who are you? Will somepony please explain to me what the hay is going on?”
Before the director could completely lose his cool, she levitated the map in front of his face. “Director, uh,” she said, and had to check the nameplate on his desk again. “Stock Chart, please tell us what you know.”
“Well, I did talk to him once through his liaison, a pegasus butler named Air Service. The pony lives in this house.” He pointed at a building on the map.
“I see,” she said, grabbing a red pen from his desk that she used to draw a red circle on the map. “I thank you for your help Stock Chart, know that the Crown acknowledges your services to the realm and princesses.” The director was about to make a comment, but she interjected. “Our time here is limited so we must depart immediately.”
She found Haywood walking to the exit, no doubt making a break for the elevator, so she caught him in her magic and dragged him back into the room.
“Haywood, we don’t have time for modern conveniences,” she said, making for the open window in a trot, but having forgotten how cramped it was, she accidently cracked the glass on both sides as she pressed her way through. The director shouted something after them, but they were already outside and descending.
“Did you just steal a map from the WPTC?” Haywood asked, once they were back down at the paved street. “I’m fairly certain those are important.”
“Nonsense, if he had any issues with me borrowing it he would have said so,” she answered, while using the map to try and figure out the fastest route to the residential area. “When our business here is completed, I will send it back with a royal ‘thank you’ note, and maybe a few bits to pay for the window.”
Haywood seemed sceptical, as they began walking towards their new destination. “What if this Air Service is asleep? We can’t just barge into someone's private home in the middle of the night.”
“Oh, you worry too much,” she said. “I can sense if anyone is asleep inside, and even if they are, I can wake them without causing any fatigue.”
Their journey through the city was uneventful, as the only other ponies outside at the time were the occasional young lovers sitting on benches, giving each other shy kisses. She would walk up to each one in turn and give them the moon’s blessing of fertility, causing a gleam in the eyes of the mares—while the stallions’ faces turned pale.
They finally reached a street with terraced, upper-middle class houses. “So, what do we do now?” Haywood asked, after they found the one with the the correct name.
“We wait outside,” she said. “I’ll search the dreamscape for Air Service.” Closing her eyes she focused on her horn, and several ethereal white tendrils appeared and made their way through the door and into the house. It took only a minute to find what she was searching for.
“It is done,” she concluded.
“That was quick,” he said. “Will he come and let us in now?”
“Time moves differently in dreams, and it’s a ‘she’ actually. Her husband and two foals are sleeping, so I asked her to meet us outside so we don’t interrupt their slumber.”
They waited a few minutes in the dark street, with only a small street lamp illuminating the ground around them. “This is so ominous, I feel like a burglar standing here,” Haywood complained. “Are you sure she’ll come out—”
The door opened slightly and the head of a dim grey mare with a white mane peered out. She rocked her head back and forth until she found them, then went back inside as she unlocked the latch and opened the door fully. With uncertain steps, the pegasus made her way to the street.
“P-Princess Luna?” she stammered. “You called me in my dreams?”
“Yes, Mrs. Air Service. The stallion next to me is Haywood, and we’ve asked you here because we urgently need to meet with your employer—Gordon Rich.”
The mare closed her eyes and took in a long breath, appearing much calmer. “I can take you to him.”
“Just like that?” Haywood exclaimed. “Where does he live?”
“He lives just outside the city, on the shore where the harbor meets the Smokey Mountains.”
She and Haywood exchanged a glance. “That is an odd place to live.”
Air Service simply nodded. “My Master lives in a very unique place, you’ll understand why when you meet him.”
“Lead the way then, we’ll be right behind you.”
They followed a few paces behind the mare as she lead them towards harbor.
“Why does it feel like we’re walking into a trap in the middle of the night?” Haywood whispered, low enough for Air Service not to hear.
“Maybe we are, but I sense no deceit or malice from her,” she replied, silently. “I put up some invisible spells as a precaution just in case.”
“Precaution spells?” he asked, too loudly.
Air Service turned her head their way. “Is something wrong?”
“Nothing at all,” Haywood said. “We just thought it was strange that you were so willing to lead us to Gordon this late at night.”
“Oh, there is a reason for that,” Air Service replied. “A year ago, Gordon told me that if either princess came searching for him, I should lead them to him immediately.”
Both ponies were confounded by that, since that been the time of her return from banishment.
“Did he give you a reason why that is?” Haywood questioned.
“No idea,” Air Service said, cheerfully. “Or maybe there were a few reasons. I can't remember, but you’ll understand when you meet him.”
“Can’t you tell us now?” Haywood asked.
“It’s best that you see him for yourself first. Just know that he’s a good person at heart, so please don’t judge him.” Air Service radiated confidence. "I hope you'll understand, Princess."
“Hmpf, I never judge anyone by their appearance,” she replied. “My days as a used cart salesmare taught me that valuable lesson. The earth ponies with mud on their hooves were often the ones that spent the most bits, and not some fancy unicorn noble.”
“You were a used cart salesmare?” Haywood asked, his right eyebrow raised in disbelief.
“This was before Equestria’s founding. I had a myriad of jobs before I ended up as a ruler.”
They continued their banter back and forth, with Air Service’s ears moving in obvious interest to their conversation. They were lead on a road outside the city, heading towards a coastal cliff with a fenced off area at its base and additional industrial buildings adjacent the cliff wall.
“This is where Gordon lives,” Air Service exclaimed, while gesturing at the gate. There was a sign next to the road that said ‘West Pony Trading Company Depo #10.’
“Odd place to live,” Haywood mumbled. “Are you certain we’re in the right place?”
“Yup, we're here,” Air Service said. “Let me call the guards, and they’ll open it for us.”
The mare used her mouth to grab hold of a rope hanging from a large bell next to the entrance, then shook it vigorously. The sound of the bell caused a ruckus inside one of the buildings on the other side of the fence, and shortly after, three sleepy, brown-clad guards marched out.
“Air Service? What are you doing here at this hour—” the lead guard began, until he saw who was addressing. “Princess Luna!” he said, followed by a deep bow. “Why are you here? Does Gordon know?”
“Yes, yes, Nutmeg. They are with me, and Gordon has been expecting them for some time. He is awake, correct?”
“Yes,” the unicorn replied, bringing out a keyring to open up the fence. “You know that Gordon rarely sleeps this time of year.” He opened the gate and gestured them all to enter. The area, as much could be seen in the dark, contained a cluster of structures, with a large vault door built into the mountain. “Wait here, your majesty, while I go and start the opening mechanism.”
“Does the WPTC often construct such oversized vaults?” she asked Air Service.
“No, Princess,” Air Service answered.”This one is special. It was built so that large objects could leave and enter, but even with its considerable size, it later became useless. They had to carve out a much larger hole on the side of the mountain fifty years ago, so the size of the vault now only serves as an extra layer of protection.”
“Extra protection against what?” she inquired.
Air Service shrugged. “Everything.”
The vault creaked and shuddered as it was engulfed by a green aura which slid it to the side. Once it was fully open, they were followed inside by the guards. She noticed how they gave off a strange sense of anxiety and protectiveness. When their little party made it inside a lobby of sorts, she turned to address the stallion named Nutmeg—not stopping until they were face-to-face.
“What ails you, my little pony?” she asked, the stallion was surprised by her forwardness and tried to back away from her. “I haven't felt such feelings towards me since the day I returned from my banishment.”
“P-Princess, I don’t u-understand,” he sputtered, as she followed his retreat, not stopping until his tush hit a wall and was forced to look her straight in the eyes. “What are you doing?”
“You fear me,” she said. “Why?”
“I-I don’t—”
“Do not lie to me,” she hissed, the lights in their surrounding area suddenly dimming, and she had to take a few deep breaths to calm herself. “Just tell me why.”
“P-please, don’t hurt G-Gordon,” he said, close to tears.
The answer was not what she expected, and she instantly regretted her bullying behavior. “I owe you an apology. When ponies are so anxious at my presence it brings out the worst in me. I have no intentions of harming any of my subjects.”
The stallion acknowledged her apology with a nod, and they both returned to their group, who were now staring at them worryingly. No one said a word, as they continued deeper into the compound.
“So, what kind of pony do you think this Gordon is?” Haywood asked, mostly talking as a way to stay awake.
“We will see soon,” she replied, while sitting in an employee lounge chair inside the cave. “You should have accepted their hospitality when they asked us if we needed anything.” She took another sip from her cup. “This coffee brew is most pleasing.”
“I didn’t expect it to take this long,” he sighed. “Are you certain that Air Service didn’t just go ahead to warn Gordon that we’re coming? I have a feeling he is currently boarding a boat heading for Saddle Arabia.”
“You worry too much. I would have known if Air Service was planning something,” she said, and changed the subject. “This cave is certainly nicer than I expected. Looks almost like the inside of an office building.”
“I still have trouble believing anyone would chose to live here,” Haywood said. “It’s very clean and well lit despite lacking windows, but all the rooms besides this lobby are just boring storage.”
Nutmeg, who guarded the lobby entrance with his two companions decided to join their conversation. “Gordon’s living quarters are past the cargo area; but he lives here because he values his privacy."
“Then why doesn’t he just buy an estate far out on the countryside?” Haywood asked. “Ponies need fresh air and sunlight to stay healthy.”
“Hmpf, ponies can stay perfectly healthy in my moonlight,” she mumbled, low enough not be heard by the rest.
“You’ll understand when you meet him,” Nutmeg replied. He exchanged glances with his fellow guards. The stallion's hesitation wasn’t lost on her.
“I’m so tired, I almost don’t care anymore,” Haywood complained, the old stallion usually never blabbered—so she saw her chance.
“Like the time when you were new to the palace and drunkenly kissed my sister at the gala?” she said, in her most innocent voice.
“Exactly,” he confirmed, then his face turned red as he realized what he had just said.
Huzzah! She knew there was some truth behind those rumors.
“Gordon will see you now,” Air Service said, as she entered the room. “Is there something wrong with Mr. Haywood?”
“Not at all.”
—
The door that led to Gordon had a simple ‘Employees Only’ sign on it. What she saw on the other side was less mundane.
The first shock was the sheer size of the room, large enough to fit in an entire city district. The ceiling was domed inward, which allowed it to carry the weight above without the use of support-columns.
The next impressive things were what lined the walls of the room. Everywhere she looked were display cases stock filled with bits, metal bars, or a plethora of luxury goods. In front of each display was a podium with a large ledger.
What mainly drew her attention, however, was what lay down at the center on an enormous mattress: the largest dragon she had ever seen. It was in the same shape as the one that had nested near Ponyville some time ago, though this one was cerulean blue and several times larger.
When the great drake saw them, it raised itself up on its hind legs and gave her a deep bow.
"Princess Luna, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. My name is Gordon Rich, please take a seat,” the dragon said, with a softer voice than expected, then gestured to the open space in front of its bed where a variety of furniture was placed.
Judging by the reactions of their small group, the guards and Air Service already knew that he was a giant dragon, and by Haywood’s gaping, he had never seen one before. Everyone awaited her response, but instead of answering, she turned away from the group and walked alongside the wall.
She ignored the room-sized displays with precious metals and jewelry, only taking note of how meticulously clean the glass windows were. Only one thing interested her, and she stopped at the ledger of the ones that contained house-high stacks of Equestrian bits. The book detailed every transaction to and from this specific vault, and she read aloud from the most recent dates.
“Two-hundred and fifty thousand bits withdrawn from the Royal Bank of Equestria six months ago,” she read, voice amplified so it would be loud enough for both the group and dragon to hear. “Four thousand withdrawn as a special dividend from Discount Joe’s Cotton Emporium.”
The list continued on and on with hundreds of withdrawals made from a variety of businesses and banks during the last year. No one said anything, as she moved on to the next display of bits, and read from its ledger. If the sum total in the ledger could be believed, they each contained roughly twelve million coins, and by her estimates, there were nearly forty of these displays present in the cave. If all ledgers here had the same rate of withdrawals, then it was safe to assume she had found the place where much of the country's currency had ended up.
“Gordon Rich,” she asked, with a hint of venom in her amplified voice. “I suggest you answer me honestly. Are you responsible for Equestria’s current economic turmoil?”
The dragon sat on his haunches and looked at her with a neutral expression. “And what if I am?” he replied, while small amounts of black smoke puffed from his nostrils.
An outlying boulder roughly the size of the dragon’s head detached itself from the mountain and flew towards him at the speed of an arrow. The dragon saw it and yelped, as far as a dragon the size of a large mansion can actually do so, throwing himself down unto his feathered mattress to avoid the impact. The boulder then swung around in the air, and landed softly in an empty space next to him.
“Does that answer your question? Now please answer mine,” she said, then found herself surrounded by the three guard stallions.
“Princess, stop now or we’ll be forced to take you in for attempted assault,” Nutmeg said, with a surprising chill in his voice.
She looked at him with an impassive face, one eyebrow raised in her signature oh really position. The stallion hesitated under her stare, as she moved in closer while looking down at him. She gave her mane a slight increase in the speed at which it flowed, and Nutmeg’s will broke completely, as her gaze alone forced him to hunker down until his stomach finally touched the floor. The two other guards backed away slowly.
“Nutmeg, Potato Salad, and Snow Skies,” Gordon said. “Go and guard the entrance and refrain from interfering. It was obvious to me that she only meant to showcase how serious she is.”
That was true; had he not dodged she would have stopped it mid-air before it impacted. She needed answers—not an oversized, unconscious dragon.
While the stallions obeyed, the dragon gestured to the rest of the party to settle down in the furnished area in front of him. They silently accepted the invitation, and trotted the longer than expected distance.
The mentioned area was like a wall-less room, with a marble tiled floor in a chessboard pattern. The furniture was sorted much like a normal living room, with a couch and table on one side and several chairs and pillows placed haphazardly.
She sat down on a pillow directly opposite the dragon, a single fang of whose was probably twice her size. But the boulder she’d parked next to him clearly indicated who was in charge of the situation. Air Service sat down on a chair further away, while Haywood took the couch.
“So, before we start, I would like to clarify a few things,” Gordon began, while laying down back on the giant mattress. “A little disclaimer, you could call it.” He took a deep breath. “I, Gordon Rich, am a legal citizen of Equestria. I have never broken any laws, and you or your staff are welcome at any time to check our financial records.” Lifting a single claw in the air, he continued. “I imagine you have plenty of questions, so let’s agree that you ask and I answer.”
“Very well, let us start at the beginning,” she said. “I’ve only heard of one dragon before who became an Equestrian citizen. How and when did you become one?”
“It all started two-hundred years ago, when I came across a ship along the coast,” he began, with a melancholic tone. “I was not much larger than a pony, and I was curious, so I simply landed on the boat. Long story short, I met Not-So Rich, and we made an arrangement, where I helped them with charting the coast in return for becoming his business partner. We were successful, and I followed him back to Equestria. We worked together, and he later adopted me into his family, giving me legal residence here.”
"There had always been rumors of a dragon living in these parts, but with so many ponies working here for you, how did you manage to stay hidden from us?”
“Hmm, I think Air Service can best answer that question,” Gordon said, and gave a fanged smile to the pegasus. “Thank you again for working so late, Air, you can take the tomorrow off.”
“Oh, thank you,” Air Service said, surprised to be a part of the conversation, then switched to address the princess. “I was hired by an agent of Gordon's, when I still worked directly for the WPTC.” The mare’s expression became sad as she reminisced. “My husband and I had issues with conceiving a foal, and no doctor knew how to help us, but the agent said if I worked for Gordon, he would help us find a way. I accepted, then we were contacted by a unicorn specialist, and two years later, I was blessed with two wonderful colts.”
A tear formed in the pegasus's eye as she spoke of her foals. She wasn't surprised, having glimpsed in the dreamworld how much the mare cared for her children.
She noted how utterly open the middle-aged pegasus mother behaved in the presence of this great wyrm. This was not a mare intimidated to obedience, it was something else. This was respect. Earned respect.
“I think I understand,” she said, and switched to address the dragon. “The same goes for all your employees, I assume, like Nutmeg?”
“Yes, that stallion also had problems before I hired him,” Gordon said, one blue claw scratching his chin. ”Or should I say, his brother did. He lost his job and took to drinking cider all day. Nutmeg worked as a Royal Guard at the time and didn't have the time or the money to help.”
“But you did,” she said, uncertain about how she should feel about his recruitment strategy. It was good that he helped ponies through a tough spot in their lives, but it could also be putting them in a debt they’d never be able to fully pay.
“Yes, I told Nutmeg that if he would work for me instead, I would ensure his brother a place at the top rehabilitation facility in Equestria,” the dragon mused. “That was five years ago, and I do believe his brother now has his life back on track.”
“I doubt all ponies you ‘recruited’ stayed loyal, hence the rumours.”
“Indeed,” he sighed, and made a large puff of black smoke into the air. She noticed how the smoke cloud quickly dispersed itself, due to a large amount of spinning fans all over the roof. “Luckily, those ponies were never believed when they tried to tell the public. I would like for you to understand that my fortune is closely tied to that of your ponies. The wealthier and more successful ponykind becomes, the more I can increase my own hoard. It’s a symbiotic relationship”
Parasitic, more likely, if his actions with our currency are any indication.
“Very well, that answers my first question,” she said, looking at Air Service, who gave her an approving nod, then back to Gordon. “Now, you claim that your actions are legal, but I have my doubts.” The boulder lifted and circled lazily in the air. Gordon looked at it and gulped.
“Haywood, tell me what laws he may have broken so far.”
Silence.
“Haywood?” She searched for the old stallion, only to find found him snoring on the couch. He laid on his side with his head propped up on the armrest, thoroughly asleep.
“Long day?” Gordon asked, when all eyes were on the stallion.
“Hmpf, the stamina of stallions this age is so disappointing,” she said, but decided to let Haywood continue his slumber. “Even if these transactions are all legal, there is another issue that’s been bothering me.”
“I will answer if you drop the rock,” Gordon said, and pointed a claw at the flying boulder.
“Fine,” she agreed, letting the rock drop to the ground. “I assume you keep up with the company's events. Please tell me about this new earth pony colony the WPTC found in the Badlands.”
“Oh, that one,” he grumbled, more smoke pouring from his nostrils. “What about it?
“Surely you must have suspected that there was something amiss with that settlement,” she asked, daring him to lie.
“Ah, you mean the fact that they were all changelings?” he replied, as if that was common knowledge.
“I hope then you have a good explanation for why you are trading with an enemy,” she said, with an edge to her tone. The changelings were still a sore spot ever since her sister forbade her to intervene at the wedding. While her sister’s vision guided her to the safest path to neutralize a foe, it often led to a less satisfying outcome. She also wished that her sister would have allowed her to beat up Tirek, but alas, that path would have left to much collateral damage to the countryside.
“Hmm, they are certainly hostile, but not really enemies,” he said, looking smug. “But, I should explain what happened.” He coughed into one claw. “You see, when we found the settlement, we suspected from the start that they were changelings, but the ones we talked to did seem genuinely interested in trading, and they were in dire need of supplies. So we sent the caravan, and traded it for their adhesive mixture.
“Now, we knew the risks involved,” he continued, before she could interject. “So when the caravan returned to Dodge City, we separated each guard and trader, and placed them in one of our guard stations so we could question them individually. We soon found out that one of each had been replaced.”
“This does not please me,” she growled, furious at him for knowingly putting the safety of her ponies under such risk. Air Service looked horrified, so it was safe to assume the pegasus knew nothing of this.
“Let me finish,” he said. “We locked up the shapeshifters and sent a messenger back to the settlement, where we demanded our employees back in a prisoner exchange. We offered to continue trading so long as they never attempted such a thing again. And it worked, since they needed us much more than we needed them.”
“You are still helping an enemy of the crown,” she noted.
“Actually, it's fully legal,” he said. “Celestia never declared war on the changelings, and there are no laws against commerce with foreign races.” He inspected one of his claws nonchalantly. “In fact, it was speculated by the board of directors that Celestia would approve of our efforts, if we decided to inform her.”
It was in all likelihood true, since her sister always choose the diplomatic route when possible. The WPTC also had special permission to treat with foreign powers, so long as the deals followed Equestria's peaceful ideology.
She knew things would come to a head soon, and wondered if she should wake Haywood, as the old stallion was twitching with one leg and snored ever louder. She assumed, quite safely, that his dream involved him being chased across Equestria by coffee mugs, or perhaps his wife.
She was about to send one of her ethereal tendrils to enter his dreamscape.
“So, should I tell you about the coin crisis then?” Gordon asked, suddenly.
She canceled her magic, and instead focused on the dragon. “Proceed.”
“Yes, it’s true, I helped cause this crisis by stealthily taking out coins from every bank and businesses I own, and indirectly encouraged the WPTC to do the same,” he said, pointing with a single claw up into the air to emphasis his point. “The reason is I also have the solution to the problem, and that is introducing a new paper-currency to the economy, to in part replace the heavy dependence on cumbersome physical coins, which is limited by a country's mining and minting output.”
“I remember now, that such a resolution was denied three times by my sister during my absence,” she said, tilting her head. “We do not take kindly to having our hoof forced.”
“It is inevitable, the economy is outpacing the production of coins. Something else is needed to replace it.” The subject was obviously upsetting Gordon. “You Alicorns, you are too afraid of change, so much so that you are hindering progress, all the while risking a meltdown due to your backwards thinking! This crisis would have happened sooner rather than later, with or without my interference. My actions simply hastened the process.”
“I suggest you hold your tongue, whelp.” She never took it well when someone insulted her sister. “You claim to be lawful and acting in Equestria's best interest, but all I see is a greedy dragon hoarding treasure.”
“That ‘dragon greed’ as you called it has helped improve the lives of thousand of your ponies!” he shot back. Air Service was now cowering in her seat, while Haywood continued to snore. “Don't you get it? Greed already drives ponies! Greed for life! Greed for love! Greed for knowledge! Greed—for lack of a better word—is good!”
“I have seen your greed before! It never truly creates happiness nor harmony!”
“Your sister's ideas of harmony is a stupid fantasy tha–”
“A restraining order!” she exclaimed, while pressing her hooves down so hard on the royal breakfast table that she could hear it creaking. “How dare that overgrown lizard.”
She picked up her cup and threw it once more across the room. Like the last two times, the cup and all of its black liquid content made a complete stop mid-air, then flew back to their original position next her plate, all the while surrounded by her sisters magic. It was a game they had often played when one of them was upset.
“There is more,“ Haywood said, sitting to her left, while he read the letter from the court in Vanhoover.
“Oh dear,” Celestia said.
“He demands twenty-thousand bits in medical costs, with another five for causing mental distress,” Haywood continued, while ignoring the whirlwind next to him. “That’s roughly the amount you have in your bank account.”
“And the price of that airship that you wanted commissioned,” Celestia mused, not quite able to keep the amusement from her voice. “What were you going to call it again?”
“The Moon's Return,” she growled, knowing that her sister knew full well that the construction would need to be postponed several years.
“Did you really have to smash his face in?” asked Celestia's royal advisor, Kibitz, from across the table. “If this goes to the press it could be quite the scandal.”
“I don't think Gordon Rich will make this public,” Haywood said. “The dragon seems to value his privacy.”
“Still, I doubt you can win this lawsuit, Luna,” Celestia said, in between sips of her morning tea. “We spent a whole day looking for anything illegal surrounding Gordon, and found nothing.”
“True, and he has four witnesses against our zero,” Haywood continued, and scooted the chair slightly away from her.
“Bah, why don't you two just kiss again,” she exclaimed, and threw away her cup a fourth time. This time it didn't stop mid-air, but instead splashed all over the Saddle Arabian carpet that had been a friendship gift during their last diplomatic delegation. She now remembered why they had stopped playing this game a millennium ago.
“That was a six-thousand bit rug,” Kibitz mumbled. Celestia and Haywood were too frozen to react.
“Could this morning get any worse?” she sighed, laying her head on the table. “I’ve thought of a few ways to get back at him, but they all have too many problematic drawbacks.”
Celestia snapped out of the stupor and turned to face her. “Drawbacks?"
“I could enact a law that makes it illegal to have more than twenty percent of your wealth in physical bits,” she said, with her cheek still pressed to the table. “That would force him and others to put a decent chunk back into the system, unless he uses it to buy goods outside of Equestria.”
“That's a pretty big ‘if’,” Kibitz complained, mustache twitching. “Such a law would be very hard to enforce, and cause unnecessary problems for ponies, with the worst case scenario being it not solving anything.”
“Exactly. We could also add a yearly fortune-tax that is based on a percentage of their wealth,” she said, without any real conviction in her voice. “But I assume you all know the problems that would cause.”
“The merchants and nobility are already annoyed at us because of the monetary crisis,” Kibitz sighed, shaking his head. “Adding more taxes at this point would be ‘the hay-straw that broke the pony's back,’ so to speak.”
“I think our best course of action is to work with Gordon, not against him,” Celestia stated, voice full of confidence. “We might find a solution that will benefit us both.”
She took her head off the table and leaned in close to Haywood. “Here it comes,” she whispered, and theatrically rolled her eyes.
“I think Twilight will be perfect for the job,” Celestia said, smiling at the prospect of giving her pupil another conundrum to solve. “I’m also very interested in their contact with the changelings.”
“So we let Twilight Sparkle fix everything for us again,” she deadpanned. “When was the last time you did something yourself?”
“Oh, don't be so sour, Luna,” Celestia beamed, giving her a warm smile. “Twilight is the Princess of Friendship after all, and from what you briefed me about him, Gordon is the kind of stallion that puts a high emphasis on business relations. It's like what he said about the changelings—he needs us more than we need him.”
“So we work with him instead,” she groaned, and waved at the service mare to bring in another cup of the black joy. “Are we really going to take his advice about using paper money?”
“I don’t think so,” Celestia chuckled. “It would risk being like that time we introduced tulips as a form of currency.”
“Ah, yes,” she replied. “It did actually work for a time, until those pegasi messed up the length of a winter, which caused all the ponies to eat the nation's entire supply of ‘money’ months before the next harvest.”
Kibitz and Haywood looked at the laughing sisters with more than a hint of scepticism.
“That sounds insane,” Haywood said, trying to wrap his head around the idea of using food in such a way.
“We ruled far fewer ponies during those days,” Celestia explained. “We could personally help anyone that got hurt by our policies, but we can’t do that anymore. Now that Equestria has become such a far-stretching nation, we play it safer now than in the past.”
—
“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, I’ve learned so much these last two days!” Twilight Sparkle beamed, bouncing around in circles inside the office, all while levitating several charts, diagrams, and what looked like anatomical studies of dragons. “Gordon Rich knows so much about dragon culture, and when I asked him why he never published a book about it, he simply said. ‘It never crossed my mind’. Can you believe that, Luna?”
“I can imagine it being hard for him to write in a normal book,” she replied, not sure what to make of the situation. Twilight was supposed to have had a quick meeting with Gordon, but had ended up staying there for two whole days. Now the energetic mare had suddenly teleported into her office out of nowhere, babbling about pie charts and how well Spike and Gordon got along.
“Oh, he never writes anything himself, he simply lets Air Service transcribe for him.” Twilight answered. At least the mare had given up on bouncing around, but still alternated between standing on her left and right legs. “Did you know that grown dragons don’t need to hibernate if they limit their dietary intake of amethysts? And that they create substantially less smoke if they polish emeralds before eating them? That’s so interesting!”
“Fascinating,” she agreed, and couldn’t help but to tap her hoof impatiently on the bench. “You should publish a book about it, and I will be sure to read it.”
Haywood’s head appeared in the open door, no doubt curious about what the commotion was about. Their eyes met and she nodded at him to enter, though he gave the excited Twilight a wide berth.
“I’ve got enough material to write three books!” Twilight exclaimed. “Though, Gordon wanted two-thirds of any royalties from the sales, and when I told him that I would never bother with royalties, he broke out in a coughing fit.”
“And did you convince him to stop sabotaging the economy?” she asked, being blunt about it to restrain Twilight from going off-topic.
“Yep!” Twilight cheered. “It took some effort trying to convince him that working with the princesses would yield the best long-term dividend.”
“How did you manage that?” Haywood asked, having taken one of the seats along the wall.
“I showed him charts of projected profits that compared him working with us related to against. He first stared at me like I was a crazy mare, but after two days of hard numbers-crunching presentations, he agreed to deposit the majority of his coins back into the banks and business.”
“So, no paper money then?” Haywood asked.
Both alicorns laughed at that.
“Of course not,” They both replied simultaneously after their chuckling had subsided. “That idea was silly and would have never worked.”
—
Her office was warm, cozy and lacked a certain Twilight Sparkle—who had returned to pester Gordon Rich with questions about dragon wing anatomy or something.
Haywood lay on the couch, slightly yawning as he read through the final reports about the bits that now were back in circulation.
“I think we can now put this case to rest,” she announced, and signed the last paper needed to conclude her report. “It was a fun adventure wasn’t it, Haywood?”
“Most thrilling,” he agreed, in a very neutral response.
“So, what more crises ails the nation?” she asked, with her mane slightly disheveled.
“There has been some legal issues over land between the Hooffields and the Mccolts again—” He stopped himself when he saw her twitching eye, and noted the once-again large stack of empty cups on her desk.
“Where do they live?” she asked.
Haywood looked at the window, then back to her, then to the mound of cups.
“If I tell you, can you promise to not send us flying through the window again?”
