> The Great Tabloid Disaster
>  by Lupin
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Something Rotten in the City of Canterlot
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 1: Something Rotten in the City of Canterlot

It was surprising, sometimes, how the world’s problems started. 

At times, they began on the smallest of things, like a mighty oak germinating from a tiny acorn. Some would call it the butterfly effect, or perhaps, as would please a certain petrified draconequus, chaos theory. No matter what one called the phenomenon, it didn’t change that it existed, and by it, huge problems sometimes sprung from tiny, ordinary depths.

This particular problem all began with a few misplaced words, a crafty reporter, two pairs of similar-looking bottles, a careless chef’s assistant, and a lucky photographer. 

“Rotten, I tell you!” declared the pegasus on the bar stool. “They’re all rotten to the core.”

“Whatever you say, Javelin Throw,” said another pony trotting to a table across the room. “Whatever you say.”

The pegasus muttered a few choice words into his mug. He hadn’t been posted to the palace for very long, but so far, he wasn’t really getting the sense of camaraderie he’d expected. Most of the senior guards already had their own little groups, and the other new guards didn’t seem to like him all that much. The fact that he’d been stuck with two weeks of cleaning the barracks latrines hadn’t helped either.

Javelin still didn’t understand why that had happened. Clearly, it was a form of punishment, even if it hadn’t been presented as such. But what had he done to deserve it? He’d stood at his post and followed all the orders he’d been given.

Something moved in the corner of his vision. He turned, and saw a gray unicorn with a deep black mane sitting beside him.

“You seem like you’re having a bad day,” said the unicorn consolingly. 

“It’s nothing,” muttered Javelin Throw.

The unicorn leaned in. “I don’t think that’s true.” He held out a hoof. “The name’s Tattle Tale. What’s yours?”

“Javelin Throw,” answered the pegasus in kind.

“You know, Javelin Throw, I’ve been told I’m a good listener.” The unicorn smiled politely. “If you need somepony to talk to, that is.”

Javelin Throw propped his elbow on the bar, considering the other stallion’s offer. The guy was a complete stranger, and a part of him wondered if he should be talking to him at all. But on the other hoof, he was far friendlier than the other guards. Besides, he reasoned, what harm could talking do? 

“Things just haven’t been going well at the castle,” explained Javelin. “I’m a guard, you see.”

“You don’t say,” answered Tattle Tale. He ordered a drink, and the bartender slid the glass across the counter. Drink secure in his magic, Tattle turned his attention back to Javelin. “You said something was rotten,” he added casually. “I hope it’s nothing too serious. A civilian like me would worry, you know.” 

Javelin laughed. “I was just talking about the princess.” 

Tattle Tale’s head snapped back to look at him. “The princess?” he said with barely-contained excitement. A more observant pony might have noticed the almost predatory glint that entered Tattle Tale’s eye, and thought twice about speaking any further. 

Unfortunately, to the lament of quite a few individuals in the near future, Javelin Throw had never been that sort of pony.

“Yeah,” he laughed. “It’s a wonder she has any teeth at all.” 

Tattle’s drink lay completely forgotten now. He leaned in. “What do you mean?” he asked breathily.

Immensely pleased at finding a receptive audience, Javelin let loose his rant. “See, the thing is, the princess has a really big sweet tooth, and I think that…” 

Enthralled with his story, Javelin never noticed when Tattle Tale began to write things down. 





She trotted past the guards without a word. Most children would have been intimidated by their solemn faces and gleaming armor, but Sunset Shimmer was not an ordinary child. She was Princess Celestia’s personal student, and she’d just returned from another day at Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns.

School was a novel experience for Sunset. Her parents had been in favor of homeschooling, for what little it had actually counted before they became separated from their daughter on a very permanent basis. Sunset found herself more than a little intimidated being around so many other ponies her age. She wasn’t entirely sure how to act around them. 

Thankfully, the presence of the instructors had distracted her from her social anxiety. At first, Sunset didn’t understand why she needed to go to school in the first place, what with Princess Celestia teaching her personally. But the princess had simply said that learning from ponies besides herself could be a useful experience.

They’d certainly been interesting so far. Professor Inkwell’s lectures on transfiguration were especially interesting, even if Sunset had been a little ahead thanks to the princess.

At the moment, though, other matters weighed in her mind, matters beyond lectures and schooling. A mental burden Sunset carried all the way to the room where Celestia was taking a break from Day Court. The princess always took a short reprieve around the time school let out.

“Good afternoon, Sunset,” greeted Celestia with her usual serene, radiant smile. 

“Hello, princess.” As per their customary habits, Sunset hopped up onto the chair on the other side of a large table (at least for most ponies; for Celestia, it seemed small), where a tea set and a few assorted foods had been laid out.

“Did you have a good day at school today?” asked the alicorn, levitating over the still-steaming pot and pouring the unicorn a cup. Tea was also a relatively new thing for Sunset, ever since she started living at the palace, but something she quickly got used to. Besides, it tasted so good.

“Yes, princess,” answered Sunset distractedly. 

Celestia set the teapot down. “Is there something bothering you, my student?”

Looking up at the princess, the unicorn nodded her head. “I...” she paused, looking away, unsure how or if she should ask the question that had been bumping around in her head.

A gold-covered hoof touched the bottom of Sunset’s chin, raising her head so the two were at eye level. “What is it, my faithful student? You know you can ask me anything.”

“Princess...what are dentures?”

Celestia blinked. First once, then twice, then she tilted her head. “They’re artificial teeth, Sunset.” She stopped, seeing the unicorn’s confused expression. “Fake teeth. For ponies that have lost theirs.” She laughed. “What in Equestria made you ask such a thing?”

“Well...” Sunset began, biting her lip. “Some of the other ponies, they said...they said you...you wore dentures.”

Celestia’s mirth suddenly evaporated. “Excuse me?”

“That’s what they said!” Sunset defended. “They said they read it in a tab...loid,” she added, struggling to remember that one alien word. “I got a copy, see?” From her saddlebag, she produced a small newspaper. After she’d heard those other ponies talk about it, she’d run over to the nearest newsstand and bought one with the bits the princess had given her.

Sunset levitated it over to the now very dour-looking alicorn. The title of the paper read The Canterlot Whisperer, and there, on the front page, was the headline: “Does Princess Celestia Wear Dentures?”

For several seconds, the room was filled with a palpable silence as the princess read the article. Sunset fidgeted in her seat. Had she upset her mentor? Maybe she should have yelled at those ponies she’d overheard. But she hadn’t even known what they were talking about. How could you yell at ponies over something you didn’t know? 

The alicorn set the paper down. “I…see.” Her voice was carefully controlled. “This article is wrong, my student. As I told you once before, I take very good care of my teeth, and they’re all my own.” 

“But why did they write it?” asked Sunset with a mixture of relief and curiosity. “Why’d they print a lie?”

“The Canterlot Whisperer is a tabloid, Sunset.”

Sunset tilted her head. “Isn’t that just another newspaper?”

“Not exactly,” explained the princess, taking a sip of her tea. “Tabloids typically print ridiculous, scandalous, and most often untrue stories in order to sell more copies. Generally speaking, what they print is no better than rumor and gossip. Why, last week, one tabloid said they had a pony claiming they were half dragon.”

Sunset opened her mouth, but Celestia cut her off. “It’s not possible, Sunset. Believe me, I’ve been around long enough to know.” 

The unicorn drooped a little at that. Being half-dragon sounded kind of cool. For a while, she sat there in thought, sipping her tea in a precise imitation of her mentor, pondering everything else Celestia had said. It made sense. After all, if a tabloid was just like any other newspaper, then it would just be called a newspaper, not a tabloid. 

Something still bothered her, though. “But they’re writing bad things about you,” she pointed out, before following that up with “why are you letting them print stuff at all?” 

“Because, Sunset, I established freedom of the press. Ponies are allowed to print any news they see fit, and most of the time, those newsponies take the time to make sure that what they print is true. Freedom of information is how ponies such as you and I make informed, intelligent decisions. The fact that it also allows things such as tabloids to exist is an unfortunate, but unavoidable side effect.”

Sunset’s tongue stuck out in thought. She accepted the explanation, but that didn’t mean she had to be about it. Lying like that was still very, very mean. Still, a part of her was still just the tiniest bit nervous. “So…you don’t have arti…uh…fake teeth?” 

This time, rather than being offended, Celestia merely laughed. “No, my little pony, and if it makes you feel any more reassured, here.” She bent her long neck down across the table so the two were almost eye to eye, then opened her mouth. “Go ahead, give them a tug. You’ll see they’re quite real.”

Gingerly reaching out with her magic, Sunset gave a tug on one of Celestia’s gleaming white teeth. It stayed firm. Sunset smiled in relief. “They’re real.”

“Of course they are,” said Celestia, straightening back up to her full height. “Now, what say we eat?” She pointed to a rather lush salad filled with all kinds of fruit. “Chef Braise developed a new type of dressing for us to try out.”





“Is that your new dressing, Chef Braise?”

The orange earth pony looked up from the counter to see Chocolate Mint, one of her assistants hovering over the hefty-looking black cooking pot. She set down her knife next to a half-chopped carrot. “Yes it is, Mint.” 

The unicorn licked her lips. “It smells amazing.” She shuffled her hoof against the kitchen floor. “Chef Braise, do you think I could...”

“You want to try it?” Braise laughed. “Go ahead. Another critic won’t hurt.” 

Practically jumping for joy, Mint scooped up a portion of the dressing into a cup and began levitating fruits and vegetables into a nearby bowl.

Braise shook her head. Chocolate Mint was going to get in trouble one of these days if her “taste testing” wasn’t reined in a bit. But for now, there wasn’t any harm. It was a pretty large batch. Probably too large, now that she thought about it. Still, better to have it and not need it than the other way around, and it wasn’t like the castle pantry didn’t have more than enough room to accommodate. 

Braise turned back to the counter, picking up her knife to resume chopping. For a few minutes, her attention was filled by the rhythmic sound of the knife. Thump. Thump. Thump. Chopping vegetables was always so peaceful, Braise found, as long as you were careful not to cut yourself. 

That was when Chocolate Mint let out an ear-piercing scream. 

Nearly avoiding chopping her own foreleg, Braise let the knife clatter to the counter and spun around. “Mint, what’s wrong?!” 

“Mah tongue!” shouted the mare. She sat on her chair, mouth open like a dog, tears streaming down her face. “Ish hot! Agh, rehhly, rehhly hot!” she whimpered, barely able to speak as she fanned her blazing red tongue. “Sumfing’s wrog wif the dhressink!”

“What?” Braise frowned thoughtfully even as her heartbeat settled back down. Something wrong with her dressing? That was impossible. She’d been so careful in preparing it, a custom mixture of vinegar, mustard, olive oil, garlic, honey, and lemon. She’d even made sure to use fresh honey made from sunflower nectar to enhance the sweetness, just the way the princess liked it. 

There shouldn’t have been anything spicy in there. Grabbing a small spoonful of dressing, Braise took a sip.

What hit her mouth should have been the sweet, honeyed taste she’d spent the better part of the morning perfecting. What actually hit her mouth was a sensation of heat so powerful that, had any dragons ingested it, they’d have begged for water.

“YOW!” she screamed, spitting out the substance as quickly as she could. “What in Equestria is going on here?!”

“Hey, Chef Braise?” In walked Hot Sauce, her other assistant. The red unicorn stallion was holding a sandwich of some sort. “I think there’s something wrong with my recipe. Could you take a look?”

“The sandwich looks fine to me, Hot Sauce,” said the royal chef. “And right now, I have another problem to figure—”

“It’s not the sandwich,” interrupted Hot Sauce. “That’s just lettuce and tomato. I’m talking about my special windigo ghost pepper sauce. It smells funny, and it doesn’t taste right.”

He floated over a bottle. Braise opened the cap and smelled it. It didn’t smell like something spice-based. In fact, it smelled like... vinegar. And... wasn’t this her vinegar bottle?

She glanced up at the shelf where she usually kept it. It was still there. Or…was it? Now that she was really looking, she could see that the bottle on the shelf had a red stripe across the top. Her vinegar bottle had a blue one. 

Braise looked down at the bottle before her. Blue stripe.

She grabbed the bottle on the shelf, unscrewed the lid and took a deep breath of the aroma that wafted out. That definitely spelled like spice. 

“Hot Sauce,” she asked casually, “did you put your bottle on this shelf?” 

“Sure did,” answered the blazing red unicorn proudly. “Put it there last night after I perfected the recipe.” His face fell. “Or I thought I did.” 

“Did you move any of the other bottles over?”

He blinked. “Huh. Yeah, I guess I did. Why?”

“Because I think you got your sauce mixed up with my vinegar.” She always did keep the vinegar bottle on the left side of the shelf, and she’d had a large breakfast meeting to cater that morning, right before preparing the dressing. In her frazzled state, she must not have noticed the different stripe when she went to make the dressing. “This is your windigo ghost pepper sauce.” 

“Awesome!” cried the unicorn happily, lifting up the other bottle. “I knew I didn’t mess it up.”

Well, at least that solved the mystery of the salad dressing. It was a thought that gratified Braise for a total of ten seconds. After that, a new thought began to appear, a realization that filled her with an ever-mounting, nauseating horror. 

Chocolate Mint hadn’t been the only pony to draw from that batch of spiced salad dressing. A portion of it had been set aside for…

Oh. Oh no. 

Braise looked at the clock. It was about time for the princess to be taking her customary break. Perhaps she wasn’t too late. “Chocolate,” she barked at her assistant, “did Princess Celestia ask for her salad yet?”

“Sure,” said the unicorn. “She asked for it five minutes ago. Why?”

With a speed that would have turned the Wonderbolts green with envy, Braise took off from the kitchen. 





Princess Celestia poured a very generous amount of dressing onto her salad. “So, my faithful student,” she said, stabbing a now-drenched piece of lettuce with her fork and levitating it toward her mouth. “What did you learn in school today?” 

Suddenly, the doors to the room burst open, and Chef Braise came stampeding in, her face pale and dripping sweat. “PRINCESS! DON’T EAT THE—”

Princess Celestia swallowed the lettuce. 

“Don’t eat what, my little pony?” she asked, dabbing her mouth with a napkin. “And what’s so wrong you had to burst in here like Discord himself was on your tail?”

“Princess,” replied Braise slowly, horror written all over her face, “the salad dressing...there was something wrong with it.”

“Something wrong?” questioned the alicorn. “Well, the taste was a little off, I suppose, but I hardly consider that worth barging...”

Celestia paused as a strange feeling began welling up from her throat. An irritated, burning sensation. It grew in intensity, spreading up to her mouth, before transforming into an almighty inferno across her taste buds, and one thought took precedence over anything else. 

Water! She needed water! For Mother’s sake, it felt like somepony had dropped the sun right into her mouth!

The alicorn began to choke, tears spilling from her eyes as she grabbed her mouth in agony. Her magic reached out for the teapot, but the raw agony made it difficult to concentrate, and she only managed to spill it onto the richly carpeted floor.

“PRINCESS!” cried Sunset, leaping up from her chair. Chef Braise, what’s wrong?!”

“My assistant mixed up my vinegar with windigo ghost pepper sauce!” replied Braise, hopping on one hoof and then another as the princess flailed in blind, spice-induced agony. 

“Here!” said Sunset, holding out a bottle. “Princess, have my thermos!” 

Celestia grabbed it in her magic, shoving it into her mouth and drinking greedily. The liquid tasted awful going down, almost sour. For a moment, she wondered if the staff had filled Sunset’s school thermos with lemonade instead of water, but the thought passed away as quickly as the liquid down her throat.

“Thank you, Sunset,” sighed the princess in relief. The edge of her mouth tingled painfully. 

Princess, I’m so sorry,” babbled Braise. “Hot Sauce put his bottle where I usually place my vinegar, and I was so busy this morning I didn’t notice, and—”

Celestia silenced her with a hoof. “It’s fine, Braise. It was an accident, and there was no lasting harm done.”

“Oh, thank you, princess, I...” Braise stopped, her voice fading away until all that remained was a strangled cry.

Beside her, Sunset let out a horrified gasp. 

The solar alicorn raised an eyebrow. “What’s...” Celestia began, only to stop as a dull ache formed in her gums, like something... retracting? “Whatsh...” she lisped. Celestia paused. Lisped? She hadn’t spoken with a lisp since she was a filly. 

She tried again, calling upon centuries of training in public speaking. “Whatsh...” Another failure. Her eyebrows knitted together. “Whatsh wrung wif meh?”

“Princess,” whispered Sunset. “Your teeth...”

“Wot ahbout mah teef?”

Nervously, the little unicorn lifted the polished dish cover and held it up to the princess’s face.

Celestia took one look…and screamed.

It was the sort of scream that had not been heard in many centuries, not since her fillyhood, when Luna had pranked her by putting insects in her bed. It was the sort of scream that sent hairline cracks in the dishes around the room, and caused Braise and Sunset’s ears to pin back in pain. 

WHAM!

The door flew open, and Celestia’s guards stormed into the room, weapons drawn—then skidded to a halt at the sight of their monarch. 

In olden days, poets had compared Princess Celestia’s teeth to shining pearls, or, much to Luna’s annoyance, to the white glow of the full moon. Musicians had sung of the brilliance of her smile. Artists had labored on replicating it in countless paintings, that beautiful, serene smile. 

The sight that greeted Sunset, Braise, and the guards would have made every one of those very artisans faint, for at that very moment, Celestia’s famous smile was replaced by a pair of empty, saliva-soaked gums. 

Braise curled herself into a ball, rocking herself back and forth. “The sauce dissolved her teeth. The sauce dissolved her teeth!” she cried. “I’m fired, Oh, horseapples, I’m fired. I’m so fired!” she wailed. “Horseapples! Horseapples! Horseapples!”

“Braith!” snapped the princess, though with her lisp, and the spittle that flew from her empty mouth, any attempt at sternness was completely lost. “Wath your langwith. Thurh are fillieth prethenth. ” 

“Hey,” said Sunset. “What’s this flower thing on my thermos?”

Celestia took the thermos from her again. Right there, on the side of the bottle, was a large blue flower marking.

The princess’s brows furrowed. This wasn’t Sunset’s thermos. It was the same shape and color, but hers had her cutie mark stamped on it, Celestia had made sure of it before she’d sent her off to class on the first day. And what was this flower?

An ancient memory floated to the surface, memories of the time when Celestia had lived near the Everfree Forest. “Poyhon oke,” she said.

The unicorn frowned. “Huh?” 

“Poyhon oke,” she repeated.

“I still can’t understand you,” said Sunset.

Sighing in aggravation, the alicorn summoned a quill and parchment and wrote down the words.

“Poison Joke?” read Sunset. Her head tilted. “What’s…” She let out a gasp. “Professor Green Leaves! I asked him questions after class and he said he had Poison Joke extract.” Her eyes met Celestia’s, horror written over her tiny face. “I must have mixed up his bottle with my thermos. I’m sorry, princess! I’m so sorry!” 

Celestia placed a calming hoof on the filly shoulder. “Ith ahrite, Thunset,” she said, though it had very little effectiveness. One thing was for certain, she was going to have a very serious discussion with Green Leaves about bringing such a harmful and chaotic substance into her school, and so poorly secured at that.

It was then that Kibitz, her faithful majordomo, and the latest in a line of majordomos, walked up to the open doorway. “Your Majesty, it’s almost time to resume Day... Court...” The stallion’s words trailed off as he beheld the sight of her, mouth still open to reveal the toothless gums.

Sighing, Princess Celestia wrote down a message on the piece of parchment and floated it over to him. 

Poison Joke. Cancel all appointments until the antidote can be found.

“Right away, Your Majesty,” said the unicorn, rushing down the hall.

Celestia sighed. It was going to be one of those afternoons, it seemed. Well, at least she could console herself that nopony beyond her staff had seen her.





Telephoto Lens snored, shifting his position on the branch. Working for The Canterlot Whisperer wasn’t the best, and certainly not the most respectable job, but it paid the bills, and, hey, it helped him get out of living down in Miner’s Hill.

Right now, he was situated in a tree top not too far away from the royal palace, basically staking it out for any interesting photos. Not that Telephoto thought that was going to happen. Nopony ever got anything good staking out the royal palace. But his editor always put him on the job just in case, and he got paid either way, so what the hay?

Shifting again inside his leafy cover, the poke of a particularly sharp branch woke him into full consciousness. Groggily, the pegasus checked his watch. Three o’clock. The School for Gifted Unicorns would have let out. Celestia always sat by a window when that happened, though why, he didn’t know. A school emptying out was a school emptying out.

Still, it was as good a time as any to do his job, and look for any newsworthy shots. Probably wouldn’t get one, but he had to at least try. He wouldn’t have felt right otherwise.

Picking up his camera, the pegasus peered into the viewfinder. There was the room Princess Celestia always sat in at this time of day. In recent days, she’d been joined there by another pony. Her new personal student, or so Telephoto had heard. Pretty little filly. She’d probably be real photogenic when she grew up.

And there was Princess Celestia, eating a piece of salad. Nothing exciting there. “Guess I can call today a wrap—OW!” Something hard and sharp tapped against his hind leg. Turning around, he saw an angry-looking pair of robins glaring at him, and a half-constructed nest in a hollow spot in the tree trunk. 

They must have moved in between now and his last visit, he realized. The birds pecked at him again. 

“Okay, okay!” he cried. “I’ll leave in just a minute. Jeez. You’d think you were woodpeckers with those beaks.” 

He’d have to find a new vantage point. It was a real pity, he’d grown to like this tree. Clearly, the robins were a very discerning pair.

He felt another sharp poke at his leg. A discerning, and impatient pair, he amended. 

Turning back to the balcony, he refocused his camera. Princess Celestia was still there, still the same regal, elegant...

Telephoto paused, staring wide-eyed into the viewfinder. Princess Celestia...Princess Celestia had no teeth. Princess Celestia had no teeth! Telephoto’s jaw dropped. 

Sure, he’d seen Tattle Tale’s article. But even though he worked for the Whisperer, he’d never put any stock in what they printed. He was fairly certain the editors didn’t put much stock in it, either. It was all nonsense. Nonsense that paid well, but nonsense. 

Had Tattle Tale actually gotten something right? After all, here was visible confirmation of Tattle’s story, Princess Celestia, mouth open to reveal nothing but gums. Ignoring the painful sensation of a robin’s beak jabbing at his hind leg, Telephoto followed his instincts and snapped a picture. Then he snapped a few more, just in case.

He was definitely going to get bonus pay for this.





It was another day in Canterlot, and Celestia was holding Day Court. As she dismissed a satisfied petitioner, her tongue slid across her teeth. It had taken a few hours, but the cure for Poison Joke had eventually been found in the Canterlot Archive, and by dinner, Celestia’s smile had returned in all its glory.

Truly new experiences were sometimes hard to come by in so considerable a life as hers. But last night, the solar alicorn had nonetheless found herself, for the very first time, luxuriating over the simple act of brushing her teeth. 

“Next,” she commanded gently, gesturing at the line of ponies. One of them, a rather tall and dapper white stallion in a business suit, pushed his way forward. Celestia frowned at his rudeness, but continued on nonetheless, donning a pleasant smile. “What is your name, my little pony?”

The stallion bowed deeply. “Maxilla, Your Majesty.” He got to his hooves, fishing out something from his saddlebag. “And I would like to demonstrate to you my company’s latest offering. May I present…The Precrestinator 2.0!”

With a dramatic flourish, he pulled out a set of false teeth. “The Precrestinator 2.0 is a top of the line prosthetic. As you can see, every single tooth has been molded to resemble the real thing, and just look at that polish!”

He paused, admiring the bright sheen. “Plus, the teeth are very strong, so you won’t need to worry about them breaking, even on the hardest of food. And thanks to our patented cushion,” he ran a hoof along the top of the teeth, “they’re so comfortable you might even forget they’re prosthetics!”

The unicorn grinned at her. “Why, I guarantee you, Your Majesty, you won’t find a better product than ours—”

“HEY!” came a shout from further back in the line. 

Suddenly, a short gray unicorn shoved his way to the front, glaring at the other. “Maxilla, you dirty little snake! Trying to get here before me, huh?”

“It’s your own fault for being late, Mandible,” titted the taller stallion. “I got here first, so my company gets the first say.”

“Oh no, you won’t!” shouted Mandible. “I’m not letting you take this away. My company’s worked way too hard to fall for one of your underhooved tactics again!”

“So what?” sneered Maxilla. “You—”

Mandible back-hoofed his rival across the jaw, silencing any further comment. Eyes burning with shock and fury, Maxilla leapt forward to tackle him to the floor.

Celestia’s mouth fell agape as her court broke into a brawl for the first time in…she wasn’t even sure. Her guards rushed in, pulling the two ponies apart from each other. Their faces were bruised and sweaty, and the Precrestinator 2.0 lay broken on the carpet.

But though the stallions couldn’t use their hooves, their tongues still worked perfectly. 

“You never worked for a thing in your life!”

“And you don’t deserve to shine my boots!”

“Yeah, well you belong back in dental school!”

“You belong in CLOWN school!” 

After about a minute of non-stop arguing, the princess felt a vein throb in her head. She reached out with her magic to clamp both stallions’ mouths shut. They blinked, suddenly chagrined, staring up at the now-irritated Celestia.

She took a deep, cleansing breath. 

“Gentlecolts, please. There is no need for this.” 

She looked at Maxilla. “I’m sure your company’s product is most spectacular,” she said, willfully ignoring the collection of broken teeth scattered around the base of the dais like birdseed. 

Maxilla preened. “Why, thank you, Your Majesty, I—”

“But why have you shown it to me?” Celestia continued. “Do you perhaps require a loan to produce it?” She looked to Mandible. “And furthermore, I don’t understand why you two are fighting in the first place.”

Maxilla’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Your Majesty, I would think the reason would be obvious.”

Celestia shook her head. “It is not, my little pony. So why don’t you explain it to me?”

Maxilla looked taken aback. “Well, I...uh…” he said, suddenly tongue-tied for the time since entering the throne room.

“It’s alright, Your Majesty,” said Mandible gently. He said it in the same tone Celestia often used to console ponies. Hearing it now, directed at her, it somehow had the opposite effect. “Really. It’s quite alright. We know.”

Celestia’s eyebrow shot up. “You know?” What on Terra were these two ponies talking about?

“To be more specific, most of Canterlot knows,” Maxilla said awkwardly. 

This conversation was getting less and less clear by the minute. “And...what exactly does most of Canterlot know?”

The two stallions looked at each other, and Mandible took something out of his own saddlebag. “This,” he said, floating it over.

Before her was a copy of The Canterlot Whisperer, dated today. The headline splashed boldly across the front read “DENTAL DISCOVERY!” Right below it was a picture of Celestia, her mouth open to reveal empty gums. 

For the second time in so many days, the princess of the sun screamed, and every single window in the throne room shattered.
> Gathering Clouds in a Gray Sky
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 2: Gathering Clouds in a Gray Sky

“How did this happen?!”

Celestia watched as Constant Vigilance, her captain of the castle guard, flinched. Celestia rarely ever shouted, rarely ever raised her voice above a conversational level. But the proceedings of Day Court had strained the alicorn’s patience and temper to a breaking point.

In total, Celestia had been approached by five different manufacturers of dentures from all across Equestria, all of them trying to get her to endorse their products. Following close behind were ten other ponies trying to sell her whitening solution and other such things related to denture care. Celestia hadn’t thought there could be that many products, let alone that many businesses that traded in them.

After them came several other ponies offering to “fix her situation” either by experimental magic to regenerate her teeth, or surgery to implant prosthetics. Both options made her shudder. 

Between them all, she’d barely gotten any legitimate work done, which would only compound her workload further down the line. But the problems hadn’t ended there. Oh, no. If that had been all there was, today would have merely been humiliating. 

Now, Celestia had a lawsuit on her hooves. Baron Silverhoof, along with several prominent art collectors and gallery owners in the city, were suing the crown for the plummeting value of all the portraits featuring her smile. Altogether, the damages amounted to upwards of two-hundred thousand bits. 

“Well?” snapped the princess. She threw the offending magazine down on the table in front of him. “Do you have an explanation for this or not?”

“My best guess is that a reporter must have been hiding in one of the trees beyond the castle perimeter,” said the unicorn.

“And how did he get close enough to take this picture?” A gold-covered hoof practically impaled the photo on the tabloid’s front cover. “Were your guards asleep?”

“N-No, ma’am!” protested Vigilance, seeming aghast at the very suggestion. “I can assure you, none of my stallions were sleeping on duty.”

“Then explain to me how this photograph,” she pressed even harder on the humiliating image, “was taken.”

“Perhaps,” ventured Constant slowly, “the photographer used a long-range lens? I’ve seen those in hobby stores.”

Celestia frowned. Hobby stores. Meaning there could be even more photographers beyond her sight, waiting to photograph her in anything remotely compromising. 

“Expand the perimeter guard,” she commanded sharply. “I never want this to happen again, do you hear me?”

“Of course, Your Highness,” replied the stallion with a vigorous nod of his head. “I’ll get to it right away.” With that, he made a hasty exit out of the room.

The alicorn sighed, finally allowing her shoulders to droop. With her temper cooling, the full weight of the morning was finally hitting her. Most of Canterlot had seen that photograph. And what if the story spread beyond Canterlot? No doubt, if she made any visits anywhere across Equestria, she’d be assaulted by questions. 

Celestia groaned. She’d seen ponies afflicted by Poison Joke before. Once, when she’d lived in the Castle of the Two Sisters, a guard regiment had fallen prey to the vile plant. As their guards were pranked one by one, Luna had solemnly suggested that they uproot every trace of Poison Joke and set it alight. 

Celestia, however, had disagreed. What was the real harm in it, she’d said. It was only a small prank. After all, just because poison ivy gave you a rash didn’t mean you had to destroy an entire plant species. 

Oh, how naïve she’d been. Now she understood the sentiment. And only now, of course, now that she herself had suffered its sense of humor, and her humiliation had been printed across the city for everypony to see. How did one even deal with these sorts of situations? For all her years, she’d never been the subject of a tabloid, and the alicorn found herself floundering on how best to approach it.

Yet, the day was far from done. She still had to consult with the royal attorneys with regards to the lawsuit. She’d have to speak to Supply Curve, her economic adviser, as well, in case worse came to worse and they were forced to pay the damages. 

Two-hundred thousand bits. Minimum. Not counting court fees, it was already enough to put a not-insignificant dent in the treasury. It was even worse when you added on what they’d been forced to pay in repairs after Sunset’s disastrous first attempt at swimming this past summer. At this rate, Supply Curve was going to have an aneurysm before he even hit thirty. 

Celestia trotted toward the door. No use in delaying it any further. It was time to start dealing with the fallout. 

Surely, she decided, this day couldn’t get any worse.





“All done,” said the pegasus mare kindly.

“Can ah rinth out mah mouth now?” asked Sunset.

“Sure, you can,” said Doctor Pearly Whites, the royal dentist, and now, by extension, Sunset Shimmer’s dentist. Sitting up in the chair, the filly levitated up a cup of water and rinsed out her mouth. The ‘polish’, that’s what Pearly Whites had called it, tasted weird. But it was all part of regular cleaning, the doctor had told her.

“You’ve been such a good little filly—” 

“I’m not little,” Sunset interjected. “I’m almost eight!” 

“Oh, right,” smiled the blue-coated pegasus. “Your birthday’s coming up soon, isn’t it? September?”

Sunset nodded. “Uh-huh.” 

“Well, since you’ve been such a good big filly,” she said, drawing a giggle from Sunset. “I’m going to get you another sticker. Would you like that?” 

Sunset beamed, nodding her head. “Can it be another sun-shaped one? Like Princess Celestia’s cutie mark.”

Pearly Whites nodded back. “Sure. Wait right here, and I’ll get it for you.”

Leaning back into the surprisingly comfy chair, Sunset Shimmer waited. Pearly Whites was a very nice dentist. Then again, she’d only ever been to a dentist once before, so her experience was rather limited. But the pegasus was always super gentle at her work. 

Sunset had been so worried she’d get hurt when she saw the big hook-shaped pick, but under Pearly’s control, it had barely hurt at all. That, and Sunset brushed her teeth like the doctor told her to.

Doctor Whites even gave out stickers to the fillies and colts that were both the most well-behaved, and who took care of their teeth the best. She liked the stickers, they were shiny. Plus, they made her feel accomplished, sort of like when she passed one of the princess’s tests, only less so.

After a while, Sunset felt herself beginning to doze off. Was that a sign the chair was too comfy? Sleepily, her eyes drifted up to the wall clock. Ten minutes had gone by. The filly snapped back awake, her tiny brow furrowing in confusion. 

Doctor Whites had never been gone that long to get stickers before. Worry crept into her stomach. She’d been told to wait here, but what if something had happened? 

Thump. 

The sound, incredibly faint as it was, made her ears twitch. What was that? It didn’t sound like a door closing. She strained her hearing, but could detect no other sounds from beyond, no sign of the pegasus’ return. 

Her worries intensified, Sunset made a decision. Doctor Whites would understand, she knew. 

Hopping down from the chair, she made her way out of the room into the main office. Her doctor was nowhere in sight. In fact, nopony seemed to be here. Had the secretary lady left on break or something? That was a thing secretaries did, right?  

Suddenly, she picked up another sound. Voices in the distance, and the shuffling of papers. Sunset trotted in the direction of the noise, and found herself in front of a room labeled “Records.” The door was ever so slightly ajar, and the sound of a furtive argument drifted from within. 

“Why’d you do that, Red Top? Now we’re in trouble!” hissed one pony angrily. A stallion, from what she could tell. 

“I panicked!” stammered another stallion.

“Well, we’re never going to find anything for The Elite Inquirer if you keep panicking, so do me a favor and get back to looking through those records.”

Sunset stepped into the room, and immediately stopped dead at the sight of Doctor Pearly Whites sprawled out on the floor, groaning in pain. She gasped, rushing over to the mare’s side. “Doctor Whites!” 

The two stallions spun around to face her. Both were unicorns. One was big with a brown coat, black mane, and an oversized nose, and the other was small and thin, with a white coat and a shock of red mane. 

“We’ve been caught!” cried the smaller of the two. 

Sunset glared at them both. “What did you do to Doctor Pearly Whites?!” she demanded. 

The smaller stallion’s eyes darted around the room. “What are we going to do, Gossip Hound?”

The larger of the two, Gossip Hound, merely snorted dismissively. “Are you seriously telling me you’re scared of this little pipsqueak? She can’t be older than five.” 

“I’m seven!” was Sunset’s affronted reply. Why did everypony think she was younger than she really was?  “And you’re gonna stay here for the guard!” 

“G-Guard?!” Red’s face went pale. “L-Look, uh, sweetie,” he said quickly. “This is all a big mistake. We were…uh, playing a game with the doctor. Yeah! We just had a little accident, that’s all.” 

Sunset’s eyes went flat. “You’re lying.” Just because she was a kid didn’t mean she was stupid. 

“Tell you what, kid,” cut in Hound. “We’ll give you twenty bits to keep your mouth shut and forget you saw us. How about it? You can get a lot of ice cream for that.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” agreed the other stallion, nodding his head so vigorously that it seemed in danger of falling off his neck. “A whole lot of ice cream. Perfect treat after the dentist, right?” 

Behind her, Doctor Whites let out a little groan, and Sunset’s body tensed in ever-rising anger. She stamped her hoof at the two ponies in open defiance. “NO!” she screamed. “You’re bad ponies! You’re gonna wait here for the guard so he can arrest you!” 

“Hound…” whimpered the smaller of the two stallions. 

Hound’s face darkened. “Nothing else for it. We’ll have to stuff both of them somewhere until we’re gone. Come on, lend me a hoof.” He took a menacing step forward. 

Sunset positioned herself directly between the two ponies and the still unconscious doctor, lighting up her horn. “You take one more step and you’ll be sorry,” she warned them. 

Hound smirked. “Is that a fact?” 

Beside him, Red’s eyes darted around nervously. “Come on, kid, just come along quietly. That way you won’t get hurt.” 

Sunset didn’t move an inch. 

“You’ve got spunk, kid,” said Hound, sounding impressed. He lit his own horn. “But you’re way out of your league.” He glanced at Red, who reluctantly lit his own horn.  

Despite it being two on one, Sunset didn’t back down. Her horn simply glowed brighter. “No, I’m not.”

Hound looked like he’d been slapped. “You’re…” The stallion let out a growl worthy of his name. “Come here, you little brat!” 

The stallion made a wild lunge for her, magic still flaring. Instinct took over. Quickly, she hopped to the side, putting space between herself and her attackers. Her magic gathered together in a tiny sphere at the tip of her horn, the glow intensifying to an almost blinding luminosity. 

And just as Hound turned to grab her, Sunset let loose. 

The two stallions never knew what hit them. 





“…so, I knocked them out with the stun spell and got Mister Guard to arrest them,” said Sunset Shimmer. She puffed out her chest. “Then Doctor Whites woke up, and she gave me two stickers!”

Looking her mentor in the eyes, she paused, deflated, and then shuffled a hoof against the carpet. “Are you...mad at me? You told me not to use that spell.”

Princess Celestia regarded her student. For the last ten minutes, Sunset and her escort, Broadsword, had been telling her about the rather shocking events that had taken place during Sunset’s dentist appointment. The alicorn decided, though it was too far late for it to be effective, that she shouldn’t have tempted fate.

Fate, she decided, did not do well with temptation. In fact, were fate a flesh and blood being, Celestia decided, it would most certainly be in some form of rehabilitation program or anonymous support group, eating doughnuts and drinking extremely black coffee.

“No, I’m not mad at you, Sunset,” she sighed. “In this case, you used that spell the way it was meant to be used, and I’m glad you came out safe.” She turned a much more critical eye to Broadsword. “You heard nothing of this commotion?” she asked pointedly.

The pegasus shook his head. “I only heard the boom, Your Highness,” he said, looking abashed. “I was going to investigate, when Miss Shimmer came walking down the hall with the, uh, criminals in tow.” The stallion glanced down at the filly, before inching ever so slightly away from her, as if she’d suddenly transformed into a ravenous cragadile. “Then she, uh…tossed them into the waiting room.”

Celestia frowned, spotting the unfortunately familiar body language, and seeing exactly where it was going. That made the tenth member of her guard to be intimidated by Sunset’s raw magical strength.

She could understand it, to a degree. The fact that her student had dragged two unconscious stallions in her magic, and even tossed them, was, truthfully, a terrifying display of power for one as young as her. But at the same time, Sunset was clearly a very kind-hearted filly, and was as likely to hurt them (intentionally, at least) as Celestia was to forsake sweets for a life of monastic piety. 

Still, Broadsword would probably do what the other nine guards before him did, and volunteer for a job, any job, other than dealing with her student. At this rate, nopony was going to volunteer to escort her anywhere, a most impractical problem considering Celestia’s schedule. 

The alicorn made a mental note to assign veterans to escort duty next time. They, she hoped, would be far less fazed by Sunset’s casual displays of magic.

Then another thought occurred to her. “You didn’t leave your post, did you, Broadsword?” she asked slowly. Her magenta eyes narrowed at the tiny traces of what appeared to be ketchup and mustard on the collar of his breastplate. 

The guard pony shifted uncomfortably on his hooves. “Uh, no, Your Majesty! I never left the waiting room.” He turned quickly to Sunset. “Right, kid? You saw me, didn’t you? I was there the whole time.” 

Sunset frowned. “But the glass was all wavy.” She paused, then added. “Hey, Mr. Guard, where did that big sandwich come from?”

Celestia raised an eyebrow. “Sandwich?” If she recalled correctly, there was a sandwich shop right across the street from the office. 

“Uh-huh,” said the unicorn, nodding her head energetically. “When I tossed the pony with the big nose into the room,” as she said this, Broadsword inched further away from her, “it went all splat!”

“They must have brought it with them,” suggested the pegasus. 

“But I don’t remember—”

“Was there anything else, ma’am?” asked Broadsword, quickly redirecting the conversation to the princess and silencing the little unicorn all in one go. 

Celestia pursed her lips. She’d check into that later. “Has any progress been made to determine why they were there in the first place?” she inquired. 

“No, Your Majesty,” answered Broadsword. “According to Sunset, their names are Red Top and Gossip Hound, and we know they gained access to the office via the back door. But as far as why they were there, they didn’t have any actual identification or anything that would suggest—”

“Ink!” Sunset piped up suddenly; then she shrunk in on herself when both Broadsword and Celestia turned to look at her. 

“Sunset?” the princess started gently. “The adults are talking, but you have permission to speak.”

“Ink… ire…?” Sunset murmured, like she was trying to piece a word together. “Uh… Eh-late?” She frowned. “What do ponies call rich ponies?”

“Elite?” Celestia filled in.

“Yeah!” the filly chirped, nodding rapidly. “They said… something about The Elite… Ink-wire-er?”

Celestia’s eyebrows furrowed. “The Elite Inquirer?”

Sunset gave an energetic hop. “That was it! That was it!”

“That’s a tabloid, ma’am,” said Broadsword.

“I’m aware.” The solar princess leaned back on her throne. Two reporters of The Elite Inquirer caught searching through the records room of her dentist? Only one conclusion leapt to mind. “They must have been trying to one-up The Whisperer.”

From what she knew of the Canterlot tabloid scene, The Whisperer and The Elite Inquirer had often been in conflict with one another, a sort of unofficial rivalry to be the top dog of salacious gossip. Only a few years ago, their photographers had gotten into a full-on street fight just outside Sharp Suit’s family estate.

Discreet inquiries had told her that The Whisperer’s piece on her so-called “dentures” had caused their sales to skyrocket. It would only be natural that The Inquirer would try to outdo them. In fact, she wouldn’t be surprised if any of the city’s other tabloids threw their hats into the ring. 

Celestia sighed. It was bad enough that one tabloid was causing her trouble, but two, or even more? 

“Broadsword, see that those two ponies are fully prosecuted for trespassing, assault, and attempted kidnapping of a minor and ward of the Equestrian state,” she stated darkly. “And also send a warning to The Inquirer about the actions of their employees.” 

“At once, Your Majesty.” With a final salute, Broadsword left the room. 

For a moment, all was quiet. 

At least, until Sunset spoke up again. “Princess, what did you mean about the ink... ink-wire-er trying to one-up The Whisperer?”

Celestia didn’t answer right away. After all, it was her problem, and her problem alone, and there was no reason to burden a filly like Sunset with such things. But then she remembered that some of the ponies at her school read the tabloids, and realized that Sunset was likely to hear about this entire mess anyway.

Celestia summoned the offending article in her magic, and presented it to Sunset. “This came out today.”

The unicorn took one look at the page, and then let out the loudest gasp her tiny throat was capable of. “But that was the Poison Joke!”

“We both know that, but they don’t.” said Celestia. “Regardless, quite a few ponies read this, so I want you to be aware in case you hear it at school. I don’t want you getting into any trouble over this.”

The little unicorn scowled at the tabloid. “This isn’t fair! Ponies shouldn’t be able to lie like this.”

“I know, Sunset, but as I said, it’s an unfortunate side effect of a free press.”

“You should have the other newspapers writing stuff about you,” said the unicorn angrily, looking up at her mentor with those big, cyan eyes. “I bet they wouldn’t lie.”

Celestia paused. Sunset had made a valid point. Perhaps it was, as the saying went, time to fight fire with fire. 

“Princess?” Sunset questioned. “What is it?” 

The alicorn smiled down at her. “My faithful student, I do believe you’ve given me an idea.”





“Do you have everything you need for your article, Mr. Byline?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” answered the unicorn as he scribbled in his notepad. “I have to say, it’s an...interesting story.”

Celestia raised a single, sculpted eyebrow as she looked down at the beige stallion before her.

Byline was, according to the editor of The Canterlot Times, their most respected and valued reporter. It had been a rather rushed proposal that she’d sent off to the editor of The Times, which wasn’t her usual style. Time was of the essence, however. The faster she fought back against this tabloid nonsense, the sooner it would be squelched.

After all, what better way to counter the negative press of a tabloid than with positive press from the most respectable reporter at the most respectable and trusted news outlet in the city?

“It’s the truth, Mr. Byline,” she insisted. “Or do you doubt me?”

“Oh, no, Your Majesty!” proclaimed Byline with a vigorous shake of his head. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. To think all of this was caused by a simple flower.” Hurriedly, he put away his notebook, before smiling up at the alicorn. “And I’m sure the rest of Canterlot will feel that way as well.” He straightened his tie. “If anypony can clear this mess up for you, it’s me. My word is as good as gold.” 

Celestia nodded, pleased with his answer. “That’s very good. I will expect your work in tomorrow’s morning edition.”

With a bow, Byline left the throne room, leaving Celestia by herself. She smiled. This would most certainly put an end to this denture nonsense, and with it, clear up all the associated problems. She’d be able to dismiss the lawsuit, and she wouldn’t have Day Court clogged with ponies trying to sell her things, and could actually get work done.

Celestia was interrupted from her musings by a knock at the door. “Enter,” she said, not looking up from the stack of papers Kibitz had given her that morning. Considering the time, it was probably Sunset, searching for her mentor since she wasn’t in her usual place. 

The doors swung open, and the solar alicorn found herself surprised when, rather than an amber unicorn filly, a green unicorn mare entered the room. “Good afternoon, Your Majesty,” greeted Jade Comb, otherwise known as the royal stylist, rubbing a hoof behind her head.

“Jade? What brings you here at this time of day?” asked Celestia, rising to her hooves. “Normally you’d be busy with clients right now.”

“Well,” laughed the unicorn weakly, “The thing is, I’m here because I seem to have lost my appointment book.” Red tinged her cheeks. “I’m not sure how it happened, but I can’t find it, and neither can any of my employees.”

The alicorn nodded in understanding. “I see. So now you’re visiting your clients to try and piece together any upcoming appointments, is that it?”

The unicorn nodded. “Yes. I can’t quite remember what day I had you scheduled for, Your Majesty. Was it...next week? Or the week after that?”

Before the princess could answer, there came another knock at the door, and this time, Sunset Shimmer trotted inside. “Hi, princess...oh!” Sunset stopped, noticing the other pony in the room. “Hi, Miss Comb. What are you doing here?”

“She lost her appointment book, Sunset, so she’s just here trying to figure out when I was supposed to visit her again,” explained Celestia.

“Actually,” said Jade, “I don’t remember when Sunset was supposed to come in, either.” Looking down at the filly, she gestured with a hoof. “No time like the present, though! Come here and let me have a look at you, honey.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Sunset skipped over to the older unicorn, and Jade pulled out a comb from her saddlebags, gently running it through Sunset’s mane and tail. 

Celestia rolled her eyes. Ever since Sunset had decided that nopony could touch her mane and tail except for “trained pro-fess-on-alls,” she’d taken to brushing them herself in the morning. Of course, considering she was only seven, her ability to discern what was presentable and what didn’t was severely lacking. 

This deficiency had resulted in a number of mornings where she’d walked around the castle with some of the worst bedhead Celestia had ever seen. It was only through Jade’s gentle coaching that the problem had mercifully disappeared, and thankfully before the filly started school. The last thing Celestia would have wanted was her star pupil showing up on the first day with the messiest mane in Canterlot. 

Celestia had started paying Jade extra after that. 

“Nope, everything looks just as perfect as I left it,” smiled Jade. “Not that I had to do much. You won’t need to come in for another two or three weeks, I’d say.”

Sunset beamed up at the mare. “Thank you!”

“Jade,” interrupted Celestia. “If you still can’t remember the appointment date, I can call for Kibitz. He would most certainly have added it to his schedule.”

Within a few minutes, her majordomo was summoned, and Jade left, the forgotten appointment date now written down. Once everypony else had cleared out, Celestia turned to her student. “So, Sunset, how was school today?”

“It was okay,” replied the filly, her expression dropping. “Ponies were still talking about you, though.”

Celestia nodded. “I doubted they were going to stop. But you don’t have to worry about that for much longer. I’ve actually taken steps to end the problem.”

“Really?!” Sunset exclaimed excitedly. “What did you do, what did you do?”

The alicorn laughed. “Well, I decided to take your advice, my faithful student. Come.” She guided the filly with a wing. “Let’s get some tea, and you can tell me about how school went today.”





“Rejected?!” 

Princess Celestia had been having a wonderful day. She’d slept especially well, the weather was bright and warm, she’d had a sumptuous breakfast, and her schedule was, relatively speaking, rather light. A wonderful day that was, until this very moment.

“Y-Yes, Your Majesty,” stuttered the cause of her morning’s ruination, a small white mare named Chalk Piece. “The Canterlot Teacher’s Association decided to, uh, re-reject your request to speak at this year’s dinner.”

Celestia’s serene face nearly fell into a scowl, but with years of training, she managed to keep it only to a highly disapproving frown. “May I ask why?” she said, her voice tight. 

Chalk Piece shrank back. “W-Well, Your Majesty, given your recent, uh, problems in the tabloids, the association’s board felt it better to avoid getting tangled in any controversies that might drown out the discussion on education.” 

Celestia repressed a sigh, annoyance surging up inside her. Of course, it was the tabloid nonsense that was responsible for this. But, she realized, this was precisely why she’d taken steps against it. 

She gave the smaller mare her most pleasant smile. “Miss Chalk Piece, I’ve already cleared up that unfortunate misunderstanding. Did the association’s board not see the article in The Canterlot Times? It should have come out this morning.” 

“They did,” answered the unicorn. “But most of them didn’t quite believe it.” She shook her head. “Not that I blame them,” she muttered, seeming momentarily distracted by her memories. “I mean, it sounded like…” Chalk Piece froze, craning her neck slowly upwards to meet Celestia’s inquiring gaze. 

“You thought it sounded like what, my little pony?” Though the smile was still on her face, her words came out as stiff as a petrified tree. 

“Nothing, Your Majesty,” said the unicorn, smiling in a way so forced that it was physically painful to look at. 

Celestia stared her down. “Tell me,” she commanded. 

“I-I…” Chalk Piece began to hyperventilate, and for a moment, Celestia thought she’d drop dead of a heart attack. The unicorn squeezed her eyes shut, turning her head away like she was bracing for a mortal blow. “It sounded like something my ten-year-old daughter would come up with!” she blurted out. 

Celestia’s jaw fell slack. “…What?” 

Breathing heavily, and seeing the princess wasn’t going to respond any further, Chalk Piece continued. “Princess, I couldn’t find anything about Poison Joke in the Encyclopedia Equestria. I checked all the botany books I could find, and I still couldn’t find any references. As far as I could see, there was no proof that it exists at all.” 

Chalk Piece sighed. “I understand if you were just trying to get the tabloid off your back. Really, I do. But, Your Majesty, you’re…you’re not doing a very good job of it.” She turned her head away again. “Please don’t punish me.” 

If anypony had been in that room with a stopwatch, they would have realized that it took a total of thirty seconds before Celestia’s jaw snapped shut. No proof. Yes, Poison Joke was a rare flower that only existed in the Everfree Forest. Yes, very few ponies went in there these days. And yes, it was true that the manuscript detailing the cure was many centuries old. 

But was Poison Joke really so obscure as to have gone undocumented in the modern field of botany? Professor Green Leaves knew of its existence. Had he never published any of his findings at all? 

Not that she could get him to testify now. The day after Sunset’s fateful mix-up with his bottle of extract (something she was still going to discuss with him), he’d gone off on a research trip to the Forbidden Jungle for Mother only knew how long. 

Securing Poison Joke wasn’t an option, either. From what she recalled of those long-ago days in the Castle of the Two Sisters, the flower was no longer in bloom at this time of year. Even if she dared to send a team into the Everfree Forest to find the buds, they would not possess the magical oil required to prove her point. Celestia wasn’t even sure the flower would grow outside the Everfree’s magic. 

“But it does exist,” insisted the princess, seeing no alternative before her. “Miss Chalk Piece, you have my word as princess of Equestria that Poison Joke is indeed a real flower, and if you could simply speak to the board on my behalf, I would be most grateful.” 

Chalk Piece shook her head. “I’m sorry, princess,” she sighed, looking at Celestia with something akin to pity. “But the CTA was quite firm in their decision.” 

Celestia’s shoulders slumped. “I…see.” 

“But don’t worry!” said Chalk Piece. “We all know how much you care about education, and your work with the CTA, so the board wanted me to assure you that we won’t go without a key speaker. In fact, they already lined up a replacement.” 

“Oh?” said the princess, only half-interested. Her thoughts were too occupied with the horrible sensation of disbelief, and the growing worry that her efforts with The Times would amount to naught. “They managed to find somepony that quickly?” 

“Yes,” smiled Chalk Piece. “Lady Blueblood was most gracious to step in.” 

Celestia almost choked on her own saliva. 

Lady Blueblood?! The Canterlot Teachers Association had replaced her as the key speaker with her of all ponies? That pompous windbag?! If they gave that mare the stage, she’d twist the event into a glorification of herself rather than the association. She wanted to tell Chalk Piece that, to tell her that, but already knew her arguments would fall on deaf ears. 

So instead, the solar alicorn merely grit her teeth. “That’s…wonderful.” 

Once Chalk Piece excused herself, Celestia slumped in her throne. What kind of insanity was this? The Canterlot Teachers Association invited her to be the guest speaker at their dinner every year. Sometimes she wasn’t able to make it, but Celestia had always made the effort to oblige them. 

And now, not only did the CTA’s board think she was controversial and a liar, but they’d replaced her with Lady Blueblood, a pony who, in Celestia’s opinion, was a one mare case study for why the whole nobility system deserved to be dismantled. 

Knowing her the way she did, Celestia was sure that the sudden replacement would have Lady Blueblood crowing for weeks, and make her even more insufferable than she was already, and that was quite a high bar to clear.

She sighed. Could this day get any worse?

As if in response to that highly dangerous, fate-tempting thought, it was then that Kibitz entered the room. “Your Majesty.” He stopped, noticing her posture. “Did something happen?” 

“Bad news, Kibitz,” Celestia answered sullenly. “What is it? Is another meeting about to start?” 

The stallion cleared his throat awkwardly. “No, Your Majesty. As you recall, you asked me to keep abreast of the,” he cleared his throat again, “tabloid situation.” 

Dread settled in the pit of her ageless stomach. It couldn’t be. 

Kibitz levitated up a newspaper. Even rolled up as it was, Celestia could still make out The Whisperer’s distinctive dark blue and pink feather logo. 

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty, but this came out earlier today.” 

Celestia grabbed it in her magic, quickly unrolling it to reveal the front page. 

“BAD MANE DAY! PRINCESS CELESTIA’S SECRET DYE JOBS!”

Fate it seemed, had relapsed into sadism. 

For the second time in a week, Celestia let loose a scream to rival the force of the Royal Canterlot Voice, and every window in the throne room shattered into a thousand pieces. 

Kibitz, who lay on his belly, covering his ears with his forehooves, could only lament at the destruction. “We just had those replaced…” 





“Those scoundrels! Why, I should have them arrested for this!”

Those were the words of Jade Comb as she ranted in the once-again windowless throne room. She’d charged in not long after Kibitz, flames practically pouring from her ears as she proclaimed that the ponies at The Canterlot Whisperer must have stolen her appointment book.

As much as the thought of arresting the employees of The Whisperer pleased Celestia, she knew the chance was a slim one. According to Jade, her appointment book had been returned to her not long after her last visit to the palace, and even if one could prove it had been stolen and not misplaced, the charge would hardly be effective to curb the problem at hoof. 

Speaking of which…

Celestia turned her gaze back down to the offending newspaper, reading the article again for the fourth time since Kibitz had presented it to her. It claimed that her mane and tail were not, in fact, the colors of the radiant dawn, but rather had gone completely gray, had done so fifteen years ago, and since then she’d been covering it up with the most frequent and meticulous applications of dye known to ponykind.

Scowling, also for the fourth time since being presented with the thing, her eyes traveled further downward to the tabloid’s source of “definitive proof.” There, in full color, was a picture of what appeared to be an appointment ledger with the words “Appointment for P.C. Dye job.” along with “get more pink dye” scribbled in the notes section.

“Who did you say this client was, Jade?”

The unicorn stopped her tracks, face still flush with rage as she turned to face her princess. “Petit Cheri, Your Majesty.”

“And do you think you could convince her to clear up this mess?”

Jade looked away. “Well, I, uh…I don’t think so. Not to speak ill of my clients, but Petit is a very vain mare. She already goes through a great deal of effort to hide the fact that she’s getting gray hairs, and to get her to reveal that to the public?”

“Of course,” grumbled Celestia, “that would be too easy, wouldn’t it?”

“B-But,” added Jade hesitantly, “that doesn’t mean I can’t try to convince her.”

“Could you?” asked Celestia, hoping against all odds that Jade could somehow perform this one little miracle. “You would be free to mention my eternal gratitude, if that helps.”

“Yes, ma’am!” The unicorn struck a salute before dashing out of the room at a frankly surprising speed for a pony that was, by all accounts, not terribly athletic. Celestia was suddenly reminded of how she’d been considering instituting a program to encourage mare recruitment in the guard. 

Perhaps, she mused, she should ask Jade if she wanted to volunteer. And then, perhaps, she could unleash the furious stylist upon the offices of The Whisperer. 

The only thing she could hope for at the moment was that this article didn’t do as much damage as the last one. It was not a totally unreasonable hope. After all, while this article had a picture, it was flimsier “evidence” than the Poison Joke photo had been. Ponies were smart enough to realize that “P.C.” could stand for ponies other than her. 

“Princess,” said one of her guards. “The petitioners are here.” 

Celestia set the newspaper down, steeling herself for the moment of truth. She waved a gold-clad hoof at the door “Send them in.” 

The guard cleared his throat. “Princess, per your instructions, I vetted the crowd, and I should tell you that many of them seemed to be—” 

He was cut off when the doors crashed open, and a deluge of ponies spilled forth into the room.

“Princess, my company’s willing to offer you a deal!”

“Our dye is permanent, Your Majesty!”

“Your Majesty, Your Majesty, my spell is guaranteed to restore your colors!”

“Princess, what am I supposed to do with this painting?! It’s worthless now!”

As her guards scrambled to contain the crowd and force them into an orderly line, Celestia ground her teeth. Enough, she decided, was enough.

This meant war.
> Liars, Cheats, and Other Proud Equestrians
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 3: Liars, Cheats, and Other Proud Equestrians

Princess Celestia strode down the hall, her steps purposeful, a fire burning in her eyes. Ponies parted before her in reverent fear. No longer was she the gentle monarch of Equestria. This was a monarch of decades, if not centuries past. A monarch on the warpath.

And war it most certainly was. The Canterlot Whisperer had humiliated her not once, but twice. Three times, if one counted the original dentures article Sunset had shown her. They’d thrown her court into chaos, delayed the great work of ruling her nation, and with this latest insult, had created yet another lawsuit against her.

More than the artists, it seemed that everypony that had ever used the colors of her mane for anything was suing her for loss of value. For Mother’s sake, even that pool toy manufacturer she’d investigated after the incident in summer was throwing their hat into the ring. Altogether, this lawsuit had swelled to an enormous two-hundred fifty thousand bits in damages. 

Supply Curve had actually fainted when he saw it. 

The Whisperer was targeting her like locusts on a harvest, and it would not stand. She had not endured centuries of loneliness, conflict and disasters, both natural and unnatural, to let this tabloid get the better of her. Had she not personally led the charge when her nation had been in conflict with the dragons? Had she not led her nation in the war with the griffons?

If it was a fight The Whisperer wanted, then it was a fight they’d get, and Celestia was determined to once again grasp victory in her hooves.

But this was not the usual sort of war. There would be no need for soldiers, for dramatic charges or harrowing sieges. No, this required something special, something unique to get the tabloid to back down. 

Her first thought was to sic the royal attorneys on The Whisperer and sue them for defamation and liable. But according to Jurisprudence, the mare in charge of the royal law firm, that was not a viable option. 

When a public figure such as herself sued for defamation, you had to prove that the defendant, in this case, The Canterlot Whisperer, had acted with malicious intent. Such a thing was very hard to prove, said Prudence, and would only serve to add to the frenzy, drawing more public attention and helping the story spread down from the lofty heights of Canterlot.

That was why Celestia was here, rather than within the rough stone walls of her barracks. Though some ponies, she knew, would have found this place far more intimidating than any barracks. A place whose agents were more bemoaned than any military force. 

The Equestrian Revenue Service.

Finding her destination, Celestia walked into the office. If she were forced to describe the space in a single word, Celestia’s choice would have been dense. Though it was small, every wall was covered in bookcases and shelves, each one crammed with binders, their spines meticulously labeled with perfectly centered stickers. 

In the middle was a large oak desk, its surface completely filled with work implements, from stacks of papers to one of the largest account books she’d ever seen, to copious pots of ink and enough quills to fill a pegasi’s wing. Not a single shred of space had been wasted, not even for personal effects such as photographs or the odd knickknack.

From behind this desk sat a single earth pony. His face was...bland. In fact, to the passerby, he was perhaps better labeled as the blandest pony one was ever likely to see. Everything, from the muted colors of his beige mane and tail, to his average face, to his cutie mark, a simple “2+2=4,” to his mild expression and professional, yet at the same time, unremarkable attire, screamed “bland.”

This was the sort of pony that other ponies imagined whenever they thought of a faceless government bureaucrat. The sort that came by to enforce some random and archaic regulation. The sort of pony that every citizen of Equestria prayed to avoid for the whole of their lives.

He was exactly what Celestia needed to win this war.

The stallion got up from his seat, looking at her with a dispassionate stare. “Your Majesty?” he said evenly. “To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”

The alicorn strode up to his desk. “Number Cruncher,” she said, “I heard from the director of the ERS that you’re the most effective agent they have.”

“I don’t like to brag, Your Majesty,” drawled the stallion. Indeed, bragging would have required some form of emotion, which this pony seemed wholly incapable of. “But I take it you have need of my services?”

Celestia locked her magenta eyes with his gray ones. “Tell me, Number Cruncher, to your knowledge, has The Canterlot Whisperer ever been audited before?”

The stallion didn’t look at his files, didn’t even blink, before giving a confident “No, Your Majesty, they never have.” 

From what Celestia had heard, he didn’t even need to look at his files. Every numerical factoid of the ERS was logged into his mighty, calculating brain. 

“I take it you would like to correct this?”

Celestia nodded curtly. “Yes. I want them audited, Number Cruncher. Do your most thorough work. Examine everything. Follow every procedure to the letter, and don’t bother with any consideration.” Anger boiled in her chest as she remembered the last few days, and her voice rose to a more passionate pitch. 

“I want every inch of this business put under a microscope, and any impropriety, no matter how small, to be paid for.” She leaned in, her gaze never wavering an inch. “I need you to do this for me, Number Cruncher. You and only you have the skill needed to carry this out correctly. Not to mention,” she added. “It would be a great personal favor to me, as well as the Equestrian government. Can you do this for me?” 

Most ponies, after receiving such an impassioned request from Princess Celestia herself, would’ve jumped at the chance to serve, the fire in her eyes filling them with the fighting spirit of a thousand marching soldiers.

Number Cruncher merely gave a placid nod of his head. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

Celestia grinned. This would be the easiest war she’d ever won.





“And you will turn over all the relevant documents?” droned the government agent.

“Of course,” said Salacious Gossip, editor-in-chief of The Canterlot Whisperer. “We’ll have all the account books sent down to you by the end of the week.” He put on his most cheerful fake smile. “Anything to cooperate with the ERS.”

The other stallion nodded his head, an action so stiff that Salacious could practically hear the creak, like his neck was a hinge almost eaten through by rust. If it had been any stiffer, Salacious would have thought the earth pony’s head would have fallen off.

“Good,” he said. “Have them delivered to my office as soon as possible. I will be in touch.” The pony then attempted what Salacious could swear might have been a smile, but was so devoid of any actual emotion that it was more disturbing than comforting. “Good day to you, sir.” Turning around, he walked out of the office with all the grace of an old tin soldier.

Once the agent was out of earshot, Salacious jumped to his hooves. “TATTLE TALE! GET IN HERE!”

Several of his reporters ducked for cover as his voice thundered and reverberated around the office floor. Some even shielded themselves with their notebooks, while others held up their pencils in terrified self-defense. 

A minute later, Tattle Tale swaggered in. “You wanted to see me, chief?”

Salacious eyed the unicorn balefully. “Yes, Tattle, I wanted to see you,” he seethed, feeling a painful beat between his eyes. “Do you know what I had to do just now?”

“Not a clue, chief.”

“I had to deal with a government agent,” Salacious said, his anger rising with every painful beat. “We’re being audited, Tattle Tale. Audited by the most mechanical pony I’ve ever seen in my life. And who do you want to bet is responsible for this? Hmm? It’s you!”

Salacious threw open one of his drawers, withdrawing a bottle of pills, and quickly popped one into his mouth. “You stirred this thing up with Princess Celestia, and now she’s having us audited!” 

Tattle Tale didn’t even seem bothered by his boss’s outrage. That was the thing with him, he always seemed as smooth as silk, a trait that was useful in certain situations, but highly irritating in others, particularly when he got himself, and the paper, into trouble. 

“Come on, boss. Just because some ERS pony shows up for an audit doesn’t mean it’s because of me.”

“Oh please,” shot back Salacious. “That’s horseapples and you know it.” He massaged his forehead, willing the medicine to kick in. “I should never have let you keep going with that stuff. It was bound to turn out badly, like provoking a nest of flash bees.” The stallion slumped back in his swivel chair. “What am I going to do now, Tattle Tale? Huh?”

“Hey, take it easy, chief,” said Tattle. “Keep that up and you’ll keel over.”

“Take it easy? Take it easy?!” The headache pulsed even harder now, a steady, powerful thumping in his brain. “You started a war with the crown, for crying out loud! I will not take it easy! You’re always so confident, Tattle Tale. You think you’re so smart! So, tell me, how are you going to fix this?”

Staring into his chief’s now tomato-red face, Tattle Tale just grinned. “I got a plan.”





“I’m telling you it’s true!”

“And I’m telling you it’s false!”

“You’re a fool to believe that!”

“You’re a fool not to believe it!”

Princess Celestia sighed contentedly as she watched the two stallions yell back and forth. It was Day Court, and, as usual, she was hearing petitioners.

These particular petitioners, Cold Spot and Paranormal Activity, were semi-professional ghost hunters who had gotten into a heated argument, which they’d come to her to ultimately resolve. The former believed that run-down houses became haunted simply on the merit of being run down, and furthermore, that renovation acted as a form of ghostly exorcism. The latter adamantly denied this as ridiculous.

“Why, I bet,” said Cold Spot, “that simply seeing a better kept house nearby makes the run-down house jealous, thereby attracting even more spirits.”

“Now you’re really off the deep end!” snapped Paranormal. “Ascribing emotion to houses? And really, what makes you think that ghosts want to dwell in run-down buildings?”

“Because they usually do,” insisted Cold Spot. “The restless and morose nature of spirits are naturally attracted to places that are empty and broken.”

“Not all ghosts are sad or angry,” said Paranormal Activity, stamping a hoof.

“Really? Come on, Paranormal, they’re ghosts, they’re not exactly going to be happy-go-lucky, are they?”

Honestly, if these two had come to her at any other time, she’d have probably been annoyed by the inanity of it all. However, today was not like most days. Today was another blissful reprieve from the chaos of the tabloids. It had only been a couple days since she’d commanded Number Cruncher to the front lines of battle, but in that time, The Canterlot Whisperer had caused her no more grief.

No doubt, they had been cowed into keeping their distance at the appearance of a sudden audit, scrambling to get their records together and praying that her agent didn’t find any discrepancies.

Which he would. Even if the paper didn’t have any outstanding violations, Number Cruncher was known to compulsively pursue even the smallest of infractions, every misplaced comma and decimal point. She doubted The Whisperer’s records were that pristine.

And now, here she was, doing actual work again. Actual, legitimate work of ruling a nation. No absurd questions about her teeth or mane being thrown at her, no more lawsuits being filed, no salesponies trying to sell her things. Just actual petitioners with problems they needed her help with. Her mood was so light and giddy that not even this rather ridiculous scuffle could bring her down.

“Gentlecolts,” she said serenely, interrupting the two stallions. “I understand why you came to me to mediate this rather...unique debate of yours, but sadly, despite my years, I do not have much experience with ghosts.”

When the two started to protest, she held up a gold-clad hoof to silence them. “However, I do believe I have a solution you will find acceptable. Does your field of study not have some form of publication dedicated to it? A journal, perhaps, which like-minded ponies can use to discuss and debate their own theories?”

Both ponies looked at each other in confusion. “I...don’t think so?” said Cold Spot. “I mean, I know about magazines, but...”

“Yes, yes there is,” said Paranormal Activity, face lighting up with recovered memories. “The Ghost Hunter’s Quarterly. A very fine journal, if I do say so myself. Stopped publishing a few months ago when they ran into some financial trouble.”

“Then,” suggested Celestia, “why don’t you both try to get the journal back on its hooves? I’m sure your fellow ghost hunters would be glad to pitch in. And once it’s back in operation, you can present your theories to your peers and discuss it among yourselves. A civil discussion, of course.” She gave both ponies a chastising look. “Grown ponies and scholars in a field of study should not resort to insults or name-calling. Do I make myself clear?”

The stallions looked away, now embarrassed. “We’re sorry, Your Majesty,” said Paranormal Activity.

“Yeah,” agreed Cold Spot. “But we’ll get the journal back up and running. You’ll see.”

Celestia nodded approvingly. “Good.” She turned her attention to her guards. “Bring forth the next petitioner.”

Just as a meek-looking pegasus was about to step forward, there was a commotion from the back of the line. “Let me through!” barked a stallion. “Let me through!”

The unmistakable form of Baron Silverhoof appeared before her, shoving ponies aside in his wake like a raging yak. He was the latest in the line of Baron Silverhoofs, a title that stretched back to Canterlot’s earliest days. They’d made the base of their fortune in silver mining, back before mining was banned on Mt. Canterlot for fear of destabilizing the city.

He was very much like his ancestors, to the point that Celestia often had a hard time telling them apart, and sometimes, couldn’t even remember this baron’s actual name beyond his title. He had the same dark gray coat and off-white mane as his predecessor, and flaunted the source of his ancestral wealth by draping himself in enough silver finery that even Luna, who’d absolutely adored the metal, would have called it grossly excessive.

“Princess Celestia, I demand an audience!” declared the baron, his long, carefully coiffed mane shaking from the power of his vibrato. That, at least, was different. His father hadn’t nearly been able to reach that kind of pitch “I demand it this instant!”

“You’re supposed to wait in line,” said one of the guards tersely.

Silverhoof turned to the guard, giving him a derisive sneer. “I am a member of the nobility, you armor-clad buffoon. My time is more valuable than this rabble.” He looked back at the assembled ponies, daring them to challenge him. None did.

Annoyed at both his disruption, his complete disregard of civil procedure, and just plain lack of civility in general, Celestia cleared her throat, masking her expression with a pleasant smile. “Baron Silverhoof? To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? If it’s regarding that...matter you discussed with me recently, I’m sure we can discuss that privately.”

Even in the tranquility of the last few days, Celestia had forgotten that Silverhoof’s two-hundred thousand-bit lawsuit was still pending. With the audit having done its work and things quieting down, Celestia had been hoping that she could get the stallion to drop his suit entirely, not to mention all the other plaintiffs. 

But Celestia had reasoned that she’d need to set up a meeting with him for that, where both their attorneys could be present. After all, the last time they’d met, Baron Silverhoof had hardly been in a mood to negotiate outside of a courtroom. 

An unpleasant thought suddenly crossed the alicorn’s mind. He wasn’t here to increase the damages, was he? If he did that, Supply Curve wouldn’t just have an aneurysm, he’d simply die on the spot.  

“No, it’s not about that!” fumed the stallion. “It’s about this!” Reaching into his jewel-encrusted saddlebag, he threw something down at the base of her throne.

Celestia picked it up in her magic. To her distaste, it was a copy of The Canterlot Whisperer, dated today. Her eyes drifted to the headline.

“ERS OUT OF CONTROL! FLAGRANT AUDITS ON THE RISE!”

Celestia’s practiced smile faltered.

“It’s disgraceful!” shouted Silverhoof. “To think that the Equestrian Revenue Service is suddenly auditing hundreds of ponies, some of which were already audited last year. All this to line their own pockets.” 

His chin rose up sharply, the muscles in his neck tightening. The sudden motion made his silver jewelry clatter loudly like the pieces of a suit of armor. “Well, let me tell you, Your Highness, the house of Silverhoof will not give in to this harassment!”

“I…” Celestia began, trying to regain her mental hoofing. 

The baron jabbed a silver-clad hoof accusingly at her. “Did you know about this?!” 

By this point, whatever enmity Silverhoof had garnered from the other petitioners had vanished. Now, everypony in line was silent, staring anxiously at her, waiting for an answer. 

“I…” Celestia began again. “I was not aware of the problem, Baron Silverhoof.” Of course, she wasn’t. How could she be aware of a problem that didn’t exist?!

Silverhoof’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Or perhaps...I wonder, is this a plot of yours to fatten the crown’s coffers against my lawsuit?”

“N-No, of course not,” said Celestia, her practiced control beginning to slip. “I would never do such a thing.” 

Behind Silverhoof, she could see the other ponies beginning to whisper, shifting from hoof to hoof in barely suppressed panic. Muttering of taxes and audits rose up from the crowd, about the stability of their businesses. 

Celestia needed to do damage control, and quickly. Her little ponies were always so easy to spook. “I’m sure this is just some sort of clerical error with the ERS,” she reassured the crowd. “After all, nopony is perfect. There is no need to be alarmed.” 

Unfortunately, it was too late. Like a match on a powder keg, her words ignited the growing terror in the room. The once peaceful, reasonable petitioners exploded into a frantic mob, and the throne room was filled with a cacophony of desperate shouts and pleas.

“Princess, my store is all I have!”

“I already paid my taxes. Every last bit! I can’t pay anything else!”

“I can’t handle an audit right now, my grandmother’s in the hospital!”

As her guards tried to get the room back under control, the princess of the sun could only sink into her great, gilded throne, wishing it would swallow her up like a dragon's maw. 





The next day, Celestia canceled hearing petitions in favor of regrouping. 

Her first plan of attack had completely backfired. With these accusations about the ERS causing a panic among the citizenry, getting The Whisperer to back off via an audit was all but impossible. If word even got out that they’d been audited in the first place, it would make the situation even worse. 

The princess grimaced. Those tabloid ponies were far craftier than she’d given them credit for.

Celestia had no choice. She had to cancel the audit of The Whisperer. More than that, the ERS would have to cancel any upcoming audits for the foreseeable future. Even the director of the ERS had agreed, albeit reluctantly, that it was the best course of action, both to minimize the damage to the ERS’ reputation, and to quell the general panic fomenting in the capital. 

Number Cruncher was not taking it well. 

“But the discrepancies, Your Majesty,” he replied, sounding as emotional and equine as Celestia had ever seen him. “If work is not done, they’ll be uncorrected.” His body began to shake. “The ledgers will be…inaccurate!” 

“Regardless,” answered Celestia, keeping her voice as gentle as possible. “This is the decision that both I and your director have come to, and I expect you to abide by it.” 

Number Cruncher nodded weakly. “Yes…Your Majesty.” He turned around, slowly making his way lethargically out of the throne room. Before he did, he turned his head back one more time to look at her, his eyes sparkling with actual tears. 

Then he disappeared down the hall, seeming like a broken clockwork toy. A casualty of war. 

Celestia made a mental note to have the director of the ERS keep an eye on him. 

For now, she needed a Plan B, something harder to deflect, something with a subtler touch. Thankfully, an idea had already occurred to her. 

“Guard,” she called, addressing the white-coated stallion by the door. “Send in my next appointment.” 

The guard frowned. “There’s nopony waiting outside, Your Majesty.” 

Celestia’s brow furrowed, turning her attention to a nearby clock. It was ten minutes after their scheduled appointment time. “Hold off any other visitors until I say so,” she told the guard. 

The alicorn began to pace, anxiety burning in her stomach. Every minute wasted was more time for The Canterlot Whisperer to devise some new, horrible headline to both humiliate her, and disrupt her work, and even this wait was only compounding her work day, tightening her already restrictive schedule. 

Finally, after another fifteen minutes, there came a knock at the door, and Byline entered the throne room. “Good afternoon, Your Majesty,” greeted the unicorn. 

“You’re late, Mr. Byline,” replied Celestia sourly.  

“What?” The reporter blinked slowly, glancing at the clock, and then at his watch. “Oh!” he cried. “I’m so sorry! My watch seems to be running a little behind.” 

Celestia almost made a comment about how twenty-five minutes was hardly “A little behind,” but managed to stop herself. 

“Really,” continued the stallion. “I don’t know how that happened. Please forgive me—” 

Celestia raised a hoof to stop him. “It’s alright, my little pony. The important thing is that you’re here.” Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself. Her irritation at The Canterlot Whisperer shouldn’t be taken out on innocent ponies.

Though now that she got a better look at him, the unicorn seemed a little...rougher than the last time she’d seen him. His tie was loose, his face shadowed with stubble, and there were even telltale food stains dotting his overcoat. “Are you alright, Mr. Byline?”

“Hmm?” The unicorn blinked, having lost himself in his own thoughts. “Oh, yes. Yes, I’m just fine, Your Majesty. Thank you for asking. Now,” His horn glowed, and his coat opened up. “Let me just get out my...where did I put my notepad?” He looked in the pocket, finding it empty, then proceeded to check every other pocket. “Where did I put it? No, no, ah, here it is.” 

Pulling out a thick pad of paper, he proceeded to fumble around for a pencil, finding that equally hard to find, before addressing Celestia again. “I assume you want me to do another interview? Perhaps another exclusive? I’ve actually been wanting to ask you about a report of a new train to Griffinstone—”

“Not quite,” corrected Celestia, eying the stallion with concern. His demeanor was not comforting, to say the least. Had something happened to him since last time? Perhaps the results of the last article had taken a toll on him. 

Still, he was the most respected reporter in the capital, and what counted were his words, not his personal habits.

“I called you here,” she continued, slipping into her usual, regal tone, “to write another article. No, not about me,” she added, seeing the questioning look on his face. “I want you to write about The Canterlot Whisperer. I want you to find some of their most ridiculous headlines from years past and remind readers why their articles are not to be trusted so implicitly.”

She walked back over to her throne, sitting down upon the seat, and looked down at Byline. “I think we can both agree this entire situation with them is getting out of hoof, and I would like your help in stopping it before it goes any further.”

Byline’s face had lost a bit of its color. His pencil almost impaled his notepad. “T-The…Canterlot Whisperer?”

The solar alicorn frowned. “Is that a problem?” She looked over his disheveled form again. Perhaps he wasn’t up to this task, after all. Guilt pricked her insides. 

“If you would rather not do it, I understand,” she soothed. “You do seem to be a bit out of sorts. If you like, I can contact your editor to see about giving you a paid vacation.” 

“N-NO!” cried Byline, almost startling the alicorn with his ferocity. “I mean...of course it’s not a problem, Your Majesty.” He took a moment to fix his crooked tie. “I’d be glad to assist you. The Whisperer may have gotten the better of me once, but not the second time, no, sir, er, ma’am.”

There was a gleam in the unicorn’s eyes now, a fire of determination, with perhaps just a hint of madness. “I’ll show you what the power of good journalism can do. I’ll show all of them! The pen is mightier than the sword, and the journalist’s pen is mightier than the tabloids!”

With a sharp salute, he galloped from the throne room. 

Celestia made a second mental note to contact the editor of The Times and be extra vigilant with Byline’s work. 

Slightly unhinged reporters or not, it was a sound strategy, and the bulk of the effort lay in The Whisperer itself, and its ridiculous headlines. It wouldn’t be hard to find examples that would knock the scales from the eyes of Canterlot. 

Celestia allowed her body to relax on the cushions of her throne, content that Plan B was off to a good start.





“I don’t believe this!”

Celestia grit her teeth, hot incredulity pumping through her veins. It was impossible. The plan had been sound, more than sound, and yet, it had still failed. Huffing in rage, the princess cast her eye to Byline’s article, scanning the collection of old headlines he’d chosen.

They were all perfect to highlight The Whisperer’s erroneous publication history. ”Nightmare Moon Stole All My Cheese!”, “Duke Hoofington Allergic to Doors!”, “Aliens Land at Base of Mt. Canterlot!”, “I Had A Bat Pony’s Foal!”, “Discord Discos at Royal Theater!”, “Royal Theater Haunted by Critic’s Ghost!”, “Miniature Seaponies Found in Canterlot Sewer System!”

Nopony in their right mind would believe those sorts of headlines, and in the years before, they’d passed through Equestrian society like water under a bridge. But now? Now that they’d been brought back into the light of day, rather than realize The Whisperer was nothing more than a gossip rag unfit to clear one’s floors with, ponies had instead chosen to believe the old articles.

Now her workday had been flooded from the very start with things like complaints about bat pony foals running wild in Canterlot General Hospital, a dozen “sightings” of seaponies singing in the city’s pipes, questions about how she would greet their extraterrestrial visitors and if new diplomatic positions had opened up in light of the visit.

Then there had been furious demands from cheese makers in Canterlot and beyond to do something about Nightmare Moon and her plans to “use their goods to construct her lunar fortifications, and eventually weaponize the cheese into a deadly projectile.”

She’d had panicked questions from the architects and interior designers about the origins of door allergies. Was it wooden doors, or did stone or glass doors count? Was a cure in progress? What would they do when they started losing customers? Was Duke Hoofington available to comment on the nature of his allergy? 

He was not. The duke was out on one of his international trips. A pity. She could have used another pony to commiserate with. She could have even broken out a few bottles from the castle cellar. It had been a quite a while since she’d touched alcohol. 

And, of course, she couldn’t forget how she’d been asked what the critic’s ghost had thought of Discord’s dancing. Had he given it a hoof up or down? Did Discord still disco there, or had he transitioned to some other style of dance? Could the critic give them a free review of their new show?

After that headache-inducing conversation, she’d actually gone to the garden to check on the petrified draconequus, just to make sure this wasn’t all his doing somehow. But, no, he was still there, still frozen mid-laugh, as if he was mocking her constant misfortune.

She’d double-checked the spell, anyway. It was still holding. Because that would have been too easy, wouldn’t it? 

It was maddening. Why were her little ponies so very gullible? Even worse, The Whisperer had finally begun selling beyond the capital. She could only pray none of their other headlines surfaced, or complete nationwide pandemonium might break out.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the throne room door. 

“Enter,” she said automatically.

To her great surprise, Sunset Shimmer came trotting slowly into the room. Celestia glanced at the clock. “Sunset, what are you doing here?” she asked. “It’s far too early for classes to be over.”

The little unicorn said nothing, instead just walking meekly up to her, and held out a letter.

Raising a single, regal eyebrow, Celestia took the letter in her magic and unsealed it. As her magenta eyes scanned the contents, the princess’s jaw fell slack. “You got into a fight?!”

Sunset winced, nodding her head. “Yes, ma’am...”

Celestia gave her student an incredulous stare. “Sunset Shimmer, you should know better than to pick fights with the other students. I know I taught you better than that!” She jabbed a hoof at the letter. “The principal says you blackened this filly’s eye. Explain yourself this instant!”

The unicorn’s head dipped to her chest, and her tiny body seemed to shrink into itself. “T-They…” 

“They what?” snapped the alicorn. “Out with it, young filly.” 

“They were talking about you,” muttered the seven-year-old.

Celestia blinked, taken aback. The anger in her voice audibly melted away with her next words. “What did you say?” 

“Rainbow Swirl and her friends. They were saying mean things about you,” answered Sunset. “They said...they said you were just an old, gray, toothless mare. So, I told them they were wrong. I told them they were stupid for believing that mean tabloid.”

Sunset glanced up, meeting her mentor’s eyes just for a moment, before returning to the floor. “Rainbow Swirl said I was stupid, and kept saying so many mean things about you. So...I used the Hot Hoof spell on her. Then she lost her balance and fell over on Wish Blossom, and Wish Blossom hit her eye on the shelf.

“Star Tulip and Candlelight got mad, and I gave them a shove with my magic, and they landed on Rainbow Swirl and Wish Blossom. Then...then some books fell off the shelf and hit Rainbow, Star, and Candlelight on the head. Then the librarian came over.” 

The little filly glanced up again. “I’m sorry,” she sniffled. “Am...” she glanced up at Celestia again, eyes prickled with tears. “Am I going to be kicked out of school? Can I not be your student anymore?”

Celestia paused, the sight of that tear-stained face dissolving her the rest of her anger in a single instant. What was wrong with her? First, she’d gotten irritated at Byline, and now she was snapping at Sunset. This tabloid mess was affecting her far more than she was comfortable with.

Letting out a long breath, Celestia shook her head, allowing her features to shift in a more soothing expression. “No, Sunset, you are not going to get kicked out of school, and you can still be my student.”

The unicorn looked at her in surprise. “Really?”

Celestia reached down with a wing and dried one of Sunset’s tears. “Really. I will speak to the fillies’ parents. I’m sure I can smooth things over.”

The parents. The solar alicorn groaned internally. Since this was Sunset’s first infraction, expulsion wasn’t a given as far as the school rules were concerned. But those parents were going to be a different matter. For as much as she was in charge, both in terms of the school and Equestria itself, the parents could exert enormous pressure if they saw fit. 

Still, there was no need to worry her student over such things. 

“However,” she added firmly. “As much as I am touched by your willingness to help me, you shouldn’t have used your magic like that. For now, I have something I must attend to. I’d like you to go to your room, and we can discuss this later. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes. ma’am.” With that, the little unicorn scampered off.

Once she was gone, Celestia sighed, and began to pace. A fight. Her student, her student, had gotten into a fight with her classmates. An actual, physical fight. She had a mark on her record, not to mention what this might do to her reputation among the other students. Sunset had barely even begun school, for Mother’s sake!

It was all because of her, because of this insane tabloid campaign geared against her. It had already caused so much trouble, and now, Sunset was beginning to be drawn into this web of madness.

This was the final straw. It had to stop. It had to stop.

It would stop. 

An idea came to Celestia’s mind. It was desperate, dangerous, and even reckless, and yet, Celestia didn’t care. She’d tried all the other ways. Now was the time to deal a decisive blow. This was going to end, and it would end now. 

“KIBITZ!” she thundered, summoning her majordomo.

The unicorn scrambled into the throne room immediately, looking more than a little startled. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Tell the director of S.M.I.L.E. I wish to speak with him. Immediately.”

Kibitz gave her a curious look, but didn’t question it. He simply nodded his head in agreement. “At once, Your Majesty.”

It was time for Plan C.





Agent Furlong was on a mission.

This wasn’t the usual sort of mission from S.M.I.L.E, the Secret Monster Intelligence League of Equestria, one of the crown’s most covert agencies. Technically, it wasn’t a S.M.I.L.E. mission at all. But after being briefed by the director, Agent Furlong was more than willing to do his duty for crown and country.

Celestia had reasoned that a S.M.I.L.E. agent was a better pick for this sort of dangerous, underhooved task, rather than a member of the guard. There wasn’t a risk of being recognized, as well as plausible deniability if things went south. 

Not that things would go south. Agent Furlong was one of the agency’s best assets, heavily favored to lead the Canterlot branch when the current head retired.

He glanced at the building across the street, popping his head discreetly out from his hiding place in the bushes. Standing before him, only a few feet away, was the home of The Canterlot Whisperer.  

The building that housed The Whisperer was one of the few “modern style,” aka “Manehattan style” structures in the city. Attempts had been made many times by the locals to have the buildings torn down, remarking on how badly they clashed against the white towers and classical architecture, with no real success.

It did offer one advantage, though. Thanks to the glass doors, Furlong had a perfect view of the main lobby, and also his first major obstacle: The lone security guard.

Furlong had been observing the other unicorn for the last half hour. It wasn’t that he was actually threatening, not to somepony with Furlong’s training. But he was still there, and still facing the main entrance. There was no way Furlong could enter the building without being spotted.

On top of that, the guard hadn’t left his station in all the time Furlong had been observing him. If Furlong weren’t trying to sneak in, he might have been pleased, rather than annoyed.

His mind flipped through several protocols he could use to distract or disable the guard, trying to decide which would be the most effective. Before he could choose, the guard suddenly got up and walked away from the lobby. If Furlong’s understanding of the building’s floor plans was correct, and it was, then based on the way he was going, he was probably headed to the restroom, which would take him away for several minutes.

Grinning at the miraculous opportunity, Furlong leapt into action, knowing exactly what method to use.

When the guard returned to his desk, he was greeted by the sight of a carryout doughnut box. Furlong watched as the guard licked his lips. His head turned left and right, searching for anypony that would catch him snacking on duty. Satisfied, he opened the box, and dug into the large chocolate glazed doughnut within.

Exactly three minutes later, the guard was passed out in his seat. The Delectable Drowsy Decoy Doughnut had worked like a charm. And why wouldn’t it have worked? The agency’s top pastry engineers had designed it to not only be irresistible to the average pony, but made sure it contained enough sedatives to knock out an angry yak for hours.

Casually entering the lobby with only the slightest swagger in his step, Furlong swiped the now empty doughnut box, and pulled the guard behind his desk, far out of sight. That done, he ducked into the restroom and donned a set of dark clothes, covering up his face, his coat, and his cutie mark. To the average eye, he was now a simple cat burglar.

Operation Stop the Presses was a go.

The reporters worked on the sixth floor, but Furlong didn’t go to the nearby elevator. It could draw too much attention from any ponies still in the building. Instead, he went toward the stairwell. Tilting his head up, Furlong surveyed the dozens upon dozens of steps that separated him from his target. An arduous and exhausting climb for anypony.

Reaching into his saddlebags, Furlong pulled out a short umbrella. With the press of a button, the top of the umbrella shot out, opening up into a grappling hook. The steel claw flew upward through the air before finding purchase on a section of railing several flights up.

Pressing another button, the cable began to retract, and Furlong silently ascended the stairwell. It only managed to get him to the third floor, so Furlong had to swing himself to the closest landing and fire the grapple again. Part of him wanted to take the stairs the rest of the way, just for a bit of a workout. But Celestia had been very clear that this mission was to be as quiet as possible, and the echo of his hoofsteps could be as troublesome as the sounds from the elevator. So, grappling hook it was.

Once he reached the sixth floor, Furlong packed up his grappling hook umbrella and slowly opened the stairwell door. He was greeted by a darkened hallway, and up ahead was the bullpen of The Canterlot Whisperer, the workplace for the reporters, and Furlong’s target.

The mission objective was a simple one. Furlong would break into the desk of Tattle Tale, the reporter responsible for the princess’s recent troubles, and remove any and all notes on the princess he could find. Without that research material at his hooves, Tattle Tale and his attacks on the princess would be up in smoke, or, at the very least, significantly hampered.

Furlong approached the bullpen slowly, creeping along the wall the way the agency’s field manual had taught him to. He moved from hiding place to hiding place, making sure that he was never spotted for more than the briefest of moments.

Upon reaching the rows of desks, he began his search. Which one belonged to Tattle Tale? He read the little bronze nameplates, glittering in the moonlight. No, not that one. No, not that one, either. Ah, yes, the one at the far right. There it was!

Sliding over, Furlong inspected the desk like a safecracker would a vault. Multiple storage spaces. He’d have to try them one by one. Grabbing a drawer handle in his magic, he gave a tug. It jiggled, but wouldn’t open. Locked. This pleased the unicorn. If it was locked, that raised the possibility that the gossip files lay within. After all, why lock up your desk when you leave if there’s nothing important inside?

Furlong drew out a lock pick kit. He’d have this thing open in minutes. He inserted the pick into the lock, ready to begin cracking the flimsy barrier that stood between him and his goal.

Squeak.

Furlong stopped cold. It came from down the hall. He ducked, dropping his lock picks as he scrambled under the desk.

He watched as one by one, the lights in the hall came on. A unicorn mare came trotting in, pushing a cleaning cart with horribly squeaky wheels. The agent frowned. This could jeopardize the entire operation. Weighing his options, he decided there was only choice: RefDef.

RefDef, short for the Reflection Deflection spell, was a special trick used by S.M.I.L.E. agents. With the use of a small mirror, an agent could erase a subject’s memory entirely. Perfect for getting out of compromising situations. Furlong pulled his mirror out of its hiding place in his mane, and began to creep forward.

The mare was whistling a mindless tune as he approached, gliding her mop across the floor, and totally unaware of his presence. Just a bit closer...a bit closer...

Furlong was so focused on his target that he failed to pay attention to his surroundings, specifically, the wet floor. His hoof took one step onto the fresh water and suds, and immediately slid out from under him. With a barely contained yelp, he fell backwards onto his plot.

Operatic shrieking rang in his ears, shaking him from his stunned daze. He scrambled to his hooves, desperately searching for his mirror. But just when he saw the glint of polished glass, his face was assaulted by a set of thick, soapy tendrils.

As an agent of S.M.I.L.E., Furlong had been trained to deal with a variety of combat situations. Spells, poisonous stingers and claws, fire breath, even fighting with weapons or hoof-to-hoof, he’d been through it all, and had the commendations, medals, and black belts to prove it. 

Or at least he thought he’d been through it all. Mop combat had most decidedly not been in the regimen. 

He tried to shut her down with a strike to the face, but she dodged to the side and brought the mop handle down on his head. Furlong staggered. Who in their right mind made a mop handle out of oak? 

“BURGLAR!” the maid screamed in a soprano that could have shattered glass. “THERE’S A BURGLAR! HELP!”

Furlong made a grab for her, but once again, the maid slipped around him, before locking her forelegs around his and spinning him around in a powerful throwing maneuver. His flailing hooves knocked over the carefully placed water bucket as he spun, so that when she finally let go, Furlong was sent sliding across a fresh line of soapy floor, and only stopped when he crashed into the side of a desk. 

Furlong struggled to his hooves just as the maid, still crying her lungs out, descended upon him again, bringing her mop to bear. 

The S.M.I.L.E. agent was forced onto the defensive, unable to counter the fury of attacks the screaming maid brought down on him. He called on all of his training, employing every blocking and dodging technique he knew. But like a master of the combat arts, the maid always found a way around his impeccable guard. 

Not that the soapy floor was helping. Furlong could still barely keep his hoofing against it. The maid, by contrast, stood among the suds as poised as a ballerina, as if the soap didn’t exist at all. If anything, it seemed to improve her formidable skills. 

Quite frankly, Agent Furlong decided as the maid delivered a well-timed strike to his ribs with the blunt end of her mop, if it wasn’t happening right in front of him, he would have considered it impossible. 

He tried to get away, to get onto a dryer surface to improve his defenses, but the maid cut him off by kicking the now-empty bucket across the tile, sending Furlong sprawling onto his increasingly-soaked belly. 

For a moment, he wondered if the soap suds were part of some devious strategy. 

Agent Furlong struggled back to his hooves even as the maid came down on him again, sliding into range like a champion speed skater, still crying for help, and still besting his honed defenses. He even tried to use his magic amidst the scuffle, but every time he lit his horn, the maid responded with another painful blow to the head. 

“HELP! BURGLAR! HELP!” she shouted, even as she landed another three blows that he would have sworn were deliberately targeted at pressure points to bring him down, because his legs automatically buckled. 

“BURGLAR!” she shouted again, delivering a series of strikes all over his body, each one leaving him wetter and soapier than before. “BURGLAR!” 

Furlong, who had now just managed to get to his hooves again, narrowly ducked under the sweep of the mop. 

“I’m not a bur—!” 

He wasn’t really sure what he would have said for an alternative, but he never got the chance. The moment he lowered his legs to talk, the maid took the opportunity for a powerful thrust, and the agent was left spitting and gagging from the mouthful of dirty, soapy water that had soaked through his mask. 

Hoopsteps thundered distantly in the hallway leading to the bullpen. The maid’s cries had finally attracted attention. Furlong’s heart beat wildly. He needed an escape! 

His gaze darted around the room, before spotting a window. He made a dash for it, almost falling to the floor again as the vicious maid delivered a hard blow to his flank. With barely a thought, Furlong took out his grappling hook umbrella, and leapt out the window.

Air whistling past his ears, he pressed the button. The hook shot out, clinging to a window ledge on the tower across the street. Not the best escape, but the lights were dark there, and he’d be able to raise himself up and move on from there.

Crack!

Confused, Furlong looked up at the hook. The window ledge it was attached to was buckling. With a sense of mounting dread, he realized that the ledge wasn’t stone as it should have been. It was plaster. Plaster that couldn’t handle his weight.

With a loud snap, the ledge gave way. Furlong screamed, his body falling toward the cobbled streets below. But luck was with him, because rather than hit the ground and shatter all of his legs, he hit an awning, bouncing off its cloth surface before hitting the street below. 

It should be noted, however, that a safe landing was not the same thing as a soft landing. It was a distinction that Furlong came to recognize as he found himself sprawled out on the bricks, groaning in pain.

The shouts of another pony forced him back to his hooves. City guards were approaching. His heart hammered in his chest. He couldn’t get caught. With all the speed he could muster in his aching legs, Furlong rushed into a nearby alley, pressing his body flat against the bricks.

From his position in the darkness, he saw the glow of the guard’s horn. The alley wasn’t that deep. If the guard turned his head, even once, he’d spot Furlong for sure. Furlong would be arrested, and the agency would deny his very existence. He’d have failed the princess, and his career would come to an end. Though he would have denied it, fear coursed through his veins. He needed a better hiding spot.

That’s when his hoof brushed against something metal and round. A doorknob. His eyes already adjusting to the darkness, Furlong quickly took out a lock pick he’d hidden in his mane and quickly brought it to the keyhole. In a few seconds, he heard the blissful click of the lock giving way. Furlong rushed inside.

The unicorn found himself in some kind of sweets shop, the signs above the counter listing the prices of various delectable desserts. Keeping himself low to avoid being seen from the front windows, he slipped behind the counter, moving into the kitchen and far out of sight.

Furlong rested against one of the dispensing machines, breathing slowly to dispel his totally-nonexistent fear. There had to be a way to salvage this, a way he could get back in without raising too many suspicions. 

Or maybe he should try Tattle Tale’s home instead? There might be fewer ponies around. Fewer to get in his way. And there probably wouldn’t be any martial arts maids lurking there. But what if the files weren’t there? 

Maybe he could simply use RefDef to erase Tattle Tale’s memory completely? Not exactly what his princess had ordered, but the threat would be neutralized, regardless. More neutralized, in fact. Oh, but he’d have to get a new mirror. Probably have to steal one. But that wouldn’t be too hard. 

As the unicorn contemplated his options, he failed to notice the wisps of deep black smoke rising from the inside of his saddlebags. Only when it reached his nose did he let out a cry of alarm, throwing the saddlebag away from him. 

Among the many tools he’d brought with him were smokescreen horseshoes. They were standard issue for S.M.I.L.E agents, made for quick escapes. His unceremonious fall onto the street must have damaged them, because his saddlebags continued to leak smoke. 

The wisps quickly transformed into great plumes, filling the whole store in a thick haze. Furlong coughed and gagged on the thickening smoke, until his highly-trained ears picked up a sound. From somewhere just beyond the gaseous cover, the unicorn heard the sound of city guards rushing into the store. 

For the first time in his illustrious career, Furlong found himself silently cursing the high quality of his agency’s tools. The very thing that was meant to provide escape had both attracted attention, and, more ironically, made finding an avenue of escape all the more difficult. Blinded by tears, the unicorn reached out with his hooves, scrambling to find some sort of door. 

Finally, he felt something. A doorknob! A path to freedom! Furlong pulled down with all his might. But rather than be greeted by the lightness of a cool night breeze, Furlong instead felt something thick and heavy drop onto his coat. What he’d pulled was not a doorknob, but rather the store’s jumbo-sized molasses dispenser.

The S.M.I.L.E. agent frantically pulled up his burglar’s mask, casting a protection spell over his eyes, nose, and mouth even as he did his best to stop the flow of syrup. Those spells were the only things that saved him from suffocation as the molasses slid down over his face. 

Finally, with one last flail of his now-sticky hooves, he managed to switch the lever back. 

“Halt!”

And that’s when the guards showed up.

Agent Furlong’s body sagged. He was caught, it was all over.





This was it. The end of his career. He would be arrested and burned by the agency for his spectacular foul up. He’d never become the director of the Canterlot branch. He’d be lucky if the higher ups didn’t use the RefDef spell on him just to cover their tracks.

But the guards didn’t advance. One, the shorter, tan-colored earth pony, gazed at Furlong warily. “What is it?” he said.

“I don’t know,” replied the other earth pony, this one ocean blue. “Hey, whatever you are, don’t move!”

Furlong stood in stunned, sticky amazement. Could it be...yes. They couldn’t tell that he was a pony. This was his chance. His possibility of escape. Scrunching up his shoulders, he took a deep breath, and yelled.

“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!”

The two guards jumped back. “It’s a monster!” cried the tan guard.

Furlong waved his forehooves in a vaguely menacing manner. The guards backed away, and Furlong took his chance to rush past them and out the door, grabbing his saddlebags in the process. Well, rush was a relative term, since the molasses was making it hard to move. But Furlong’s agency conditioning made him strong, strong enough to resist the sugary mass attempting to pin him down.

He ran down the street, trying to find another escape route. His hooves plopped against the stone, the molasses still threatening to trap him, but he continued on. Behind him rose the shouts and clattering armor of the guards. 

He would escape. He had to escape. If he could just lose the guards, he’d be home free. He could retreat and form a new strategy.

Unfortunately for Agent Furlong, he would not be that lucky.

“SLIME MONSTER!” came a cry from above him as he half-galloped through a residential street. Furlong’s head snapped up in the direction of the voice, just catching the sight of a navy unicorn mare when his world was engulfed in darkness. Something large and soft had draped itself over him.

Instincts screamed net, and he furiously struggled to get it off, a task that was considerably harder with the sticky molasses already coating his body. Finally, the covering gave way with a loud ripping sound. Furlong tossed it aside with his magic.

“My comforter!” screamed the mare from above.

By now, the commotion had drawn other ponies from their beds, heads poking out windows to see the source of the noise.

“It’s a giant chicken!” cried a stallion.

Confused, and momentarily distracted, Furlong looked down at himself. Atop his coating of sugary syrup, there was now a layer of white, downy feathers, the contents of the comforter that lay ripped open in the street. He tried to shake them off, but they held firm in the molasses’ iron grip.

“There it is!” cried a voice from around the corner. The guards had caught up to him!

Furlong headed down side street after side street, but no matter how many turns he took, the frantic cries of fearful ponies gave him away. Finally, he had no choice but to escape to higher ground, climbing up the staircase of a high tower. Up and up he went, until finally, the stairs terminated in a landing with a single wooden door. Furlong pulled on the handle. It was locked. 

He fumbled in his bag, the adrenaline coursing through his system rendering his magical grip weak and trembling, before pulling out another lockpick and quickly inserting it into the tumblers.

The syrup-coated pick stuck in the lock.

He pounded on the door, trying to break it down. Under normal circumstances, he’d have succeeded, but the chase and the stickiness of the syrup had drained his strength. Now, faced with a door he couldn’t get past and the stone wall of the landing, there was literally nowhere left to run.

“HALT!”

Furlong pressed his flank against the wall as the guards approached, swords drawn. His soon-to-be ex-career once again flashed before his eyes. 

“You’re coming with us, whatever you are,” said the tan guard.

There was no room to barrel past them this time. No way around them. In an act of desperation, Furlong did the only other thing he could. He flung himself over the landing wall to the street below.

The fall was short, only about fifteen feet, but it felt like forever, and even as he did it, he realized he hadn’t checked to see what was below him. Then Furlong realized that he didn’t care. Either way, this was the end. 

SLAM!

All at once, Agent Furlong hit something soft. For a moment, he thought he’d be safe. Safe, uninjured, other than his pride, and more importantly, uncaught.

And then, he noticed the smell.





“Hey, Kludge, did you hear something?” asked Petrichor, the large blue earth pony.

Kludge, an equally large unicorn, sighed. “Probably just your imagination.”

“But I could have sworn something fell into the cart!”

“Shut up, Pet! The sooner we can get this round to the dump, the sooner we can end our shift.” The unicorn lifted a dumpster off the ground, turning it over to deposit its contents into the oversized garbage cart they’d been pulling.

Petrichor wanted to protest, but he knew Kludge wasn’t going to give in. It was pretty much useless talking to him when he was in this kind of mood. Shrugging his shoulders, he adjusts the harness on the cart and begins to pull. Just a few more streets, and then they’d have to haul this thing all the way down to the dump in Miner’s Hill. 

Anyway, if anything had fallen into the cart, it probably wasn’t that important, otherwise somepony would be yelling at them from above.

Using his considerable strength, Petrichor pulled the heavy cart down the cobblestone streets, totally ignoring the muffled groans from behind him.
> Crackdown
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 4: Crackdown

“Sunset, try not to let your food get cold.” 

The little filly across the table yawned, slowly stirring a bowl of oatmeal. “Sorry, princess.” 

It was another morning at Canterlot Castle, and like many a day, Celestia and Sunset were eating breakfast together. With the start of school, the routine had evolved significantly. When they’d first started eating together, Sunset had tended to inhale her food, ready and eager to start the day with fiery enthusiasm.

Now, that behavior was strictly limited to the weekend. On all other days, the Sunset that greeted her was a sleepy ball of grumpiness that did more yawning than eating. Perhaps befitting her name, waking up before sunrise did not agree with the little unicorn. 

After thirty minutes of idle conversation, Celestia got up to raise the sun, which had the added benefit of putting some energy into Sunset as well, making her big cyan eyes sparkle like stars. They split off to get ready for the day, and by the time they regrouped, Sunset was restored to her usual energetic self. 

“Do you have all your things?” asked the princess, taking a moment to adjust the saddlebags laid across her student’s back. 

“Yes, princess!” replied the filly cheerfully.  

“School supplies?” 

Sunset pulled out a case filled with pencils, quills, ink, and erasers, as well as a collection of blank paper. “Uh-huh.” 

“Your lunch box and thermos?” 

Sunset lifted them out of her bag. “Here!” 

“Mane brush?” 

This time Sunset pulled out a small golden brush emblazoned with her cutie mark. “Got it!” 

“Books?” 

The filly went to the bag on the other side and pulled out a set of books. “Uh-huh.” 

“Homework?” 

Sunset lifted out a little folder labeled Sunset Shimmer’s Homework. “Got it.” 

“Coin purse?” 

Sunset jingled a tiny bag of bits. “Here!” 

Celestia smiled. “Box of crayons?”

Sunset beamed, withdrawing a particularly large box from her bag. “Got it!” 

“Very good, my faithful student.” It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her student, but after Sunset had forgotten her books only a few days into the term, Celestia had recognized the need for somepony to go over everything with her, until she could get it down herself. “Now, before you go, I want to introduce you to your new escort.” 

She signaled to a nearby guard, and he stepped forward, a tall, snow white earth pony with a sky-blue mane. “Sergeant Light Brigade, this is my student, Sunset Shimmer. Sunset, this is Light Brigade.” 

“Hi, Mr. Light Brigade,” Sunset greeted politely. Her head tilted. “What happened to Mr…um…”

“Broadsword was needed for another assignment, Sunset,” Celestia half-lied. He hadn’t been needed anywhere. Like the nine others before him, Broadsword had simply put in a reassignment request, and was now happily on his way to a frontier post on the edge of the Badlands.

“Him too?” 

“The guards can be very busy,” Celestia explained, shooting a glance at Light Brigade. His face gave away nothing. “Sergeant Brigade, Sunset will be your new assignment from this day forward. You’ll be escorting her to and from school, and any appointments she has when I am not present.” 

Her next words were stern, remembering the incident at the dentist’s office. “Make sure nothing happens to her, and do not abandon your post. Do I make myself clear?” 

The earth pony snapped a salute. “Yes, Your Majesty!” 

Kibitz trotted up to her. “Your Majesty, the pony you requested for your meeting has arrived.” 

“Thank you, Kibitz.” She turned back to Sunset. “Go off to school now, my student, and remember, no getting into fights.” 

Sunset lowered her head, looking embarrassed. “Yes, princess,” she muttered. 

With the unicorn safely off to school, Celestia took a deep breath, and started moving down the hall. As she went, Constant Vigilance appeared at her side, walking in-step with his princess. 

“Is everything in place?” she asked under her breath. 

The stallion nodded his head. “Yes, ma’am. Operation Cloud Bank has proceeded on schedule.” 

Celestia smiled broadly. “That will be all, Vigilance.” 

Before her were the doors not to the throne room, but to a private meeting room she usually reserved for visiting dignitaries. The alicorn took another deep breath. Behind those walls, there were no ambassadors, and yet, for her, the meeting held the same weight as if the combined forces of the dragons and griffins were at Equestria’s shores. 

Grabbing the handles in her magic, Celestia opened the doors, revealing a nervous-looking tan unicorn with a graying brown mane, adorned in what appeared to be a hastily-pressed suit. 

“Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Gossip,” said the princess, addressing the editor-in-chief of The Canterlot Whisperer. 

It was time for Plan D.





If you were to ask Tattle Tale how his life was going lately, he’d tell you he was living the dream.

His stories were selling like haycakes. His boss, while initially angry at him, was now practically throwing him a party. The Whisperer’s sales had skyrocketed. Its readership, once confined to the lofty walls of the capital, was now spreading to cities and townships across Equestria. Better still, many ponies now held Tattle’s word as tantamount to gospel.

It was, in short, everything a tabloid reporter could ask for—if that reporter hadn’t been Tattle Tale, that is.

Tattle had always been ambitious. He’d scraped and fought and kicked his way to his position at The Canterlot Whisperer. He’d been bold and cunning, and it had always paid off. Lady Luck had always smiled on him to a certain degree, and now, she was beaming. He had real influence, real power, at his hooves, and he knew exactly what to do with it.

For the moment, though, he had a very important meeting to get to. 

Rising early, Tattle Tale downed two mugs of coffee along with his meager breakfast, put on his best overcoat, and headed down into the streets of Canterlot with plenty of time to spare. 

…Only to find the streets covered in fog. 

Tattle Tale frowned. Maybe Lady Luck needed coffee, too. 





It had only been a few days since the disastrous failure of Plan C, and though the solar alicorn was all poise on the outside, she was more than a little weary on the inside. 

Agent Furlong had returned to headquarters covered in molasses, feathers, trash, and somehow reeking of landfill waste despite his target being miles from any and all landfills. The stallion was psychologically traumatized, or so the agency director had told her, muttering something about an unstoppable maid, so the exact details of his mission were still spotty. 

She had been able to discern, however, that he’d failed to accomplish his objective. 

Now, she was left with Plan D: Negotiate with The Canterlot Whisperer. Perhaps she should have done that to start, but in her defense, she was still woefully unused to dealing with this sort of thing. Besides, if anypony had gotten wind that she was speaking to the staff of The Whisperer, it would have increased their so-called “legitimacy,” and they’d garnered enough of that with those two articles alone. 

Of course, Plan D had its nuances. On the contrary, unlike Plan C, which had been a reckless charge created by the loss of her temper, Plan D was a well-choreographed dance. The first step had been to invite both the editor, as well as the orchestrator of her misery, if only for appearance’s sake. 

“I apologize if the trip made you uncomfortable,” she offered. “I know how rough teleportation can be on the stomach, especially for somepony who isn’t used to it.” 

Next, as a means of keeping this entire thing under wraps, Celestia had arranged for a member of her guard (out of uniform, naturally) to teleport both Salacious and Tattle Tale to the palace at predetermined locations a few blocks away. 

Furthermore, she’d deliberately set the meeting to first thing in the morning, ensuring that the two ponies wouldn’t be able to go to work beforehoof, and therefore, travel to the palace in the same direction. No, they would be completely separated. Separate neighborhoods, separate paths, and separate arrivals. 

“It didn’t bother me at all, Your Majesty,” said Salacious, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead. “And the honor is all mine. I’m glad to accommodate you.” 

Well, he was certainly a nervous pony. That was good. It meant Plan D was on solid ground. 

“Although, I was hoping Tattle could be here before we started talking.” He shot a glance at the doors, as if doing so could will the reporter into existence. 

Celestia did her best to keep herself from smirking. That was the next step of Plan D: Operation Cloud Bank, as Constant Vigilance had dubbed it. 

Earlier this morning, a shipment of clouds from Cloudsdale had been “accidentally” dropped into the street. Mostly in Tattle’s neighborhood, Celestia had designated that target area be spread out a bit beyond it to avoid suspicion. 

It was a divide and conquer strategy. Though Celestia didn’t know Tattle Tale very well, she had a strong suspicion that he wouldn’t be amenable to her requests. His employer, on the other hoof, seemed like he might be a different sort, and as one of the only ponies that could influence Tattle Tale’s actions, she knew he was the one to focus on. 

“Yes, quite a shame,” said the princess, doing her best to keep her tone light. “But you’ll also understand if I insist on not waiting. My schedule, as you can imagine, is quite busy.” 

“I completely understand,” replied Salacious. His brow furrowed. “Still, I told him about the meeting yesterday, and there’s no way he’d be stupid enough to miss it. I wonder what’s keeping him.” 

Celestia’s mouth twitched again, and she poured herself a cup of tea, using it to hide the battle waging across her features. “I’m sure he’ll be along,” she commented airily.





Faced with the wall of clouds, Tattle Tale trotted up to a confused-looking blue earth pony mare. “What’s going on?” he asked. 

“Oh, it’s just terrible!” replied the mare. “A shipment of clouds from Cloudsdale was passing through when the clouds all got dumped in the street.” 

“It’s incompetence, that’s what it is!” barked a very perturbed-looking stallion nearby. “Look at this!” He gestured wildly with a hoof. “The whole neighborhood is covered in fog! How am I supposed to get to work?!” 

The reporter’s lips pressed flatly together. “The whole neighborhood, huh?”

Tattle Tale wasn’t an idiot. When he’d learned about the break-in a few days ago, he’d known the burglar wasn’t your run-of-the-mill variety. The only thing a thief would want from the offices of The Whisperer was information. Whoever had botched the job had either been from a rival publication, or, considering his recent successes, hired by Princess Celestia. 

The latter was a rather shocking thought, the idea that he’d provoked her to the point of doing something so illegal. But at the same time, his reporter’s intuition hadn’t let him disregard the possibility. 

Considering the pea soup fog in front of him, he got the distinct impression that he’d been right, and this was yet another attempt to outmaneuver him. She was hoping to lean on his boss. Smart move. But Tattle wasn’t going to give up that easily, not when he had so many opportunities still open to him. 

The mare was saying something to him, probably had been for the last few minutes. Something about…a little sister needing medicine or something like that. Tattle barely gave her a glance. 

“Uh-huh. Look, lady, take care of it yourself!” 

Lighting his horn, Tattle Tale charged into the fog.





“I can’t see a thing,” said Aqua Drop, looking pleadingly at Tattle Tale. “Please, sir, would you mind helping me find the local pharmacy? I need to get medicine for my baby sister. She’s got this really horrible flu, and the bottle I had ran out yesterday.” She held up an empty glass jar for emphasis—

—and Tattle Tale violently brushed her off, and galloped headlong into the fog. She dropped the bottle in shock, and it shattered on the flagstones.

“What the—?! What kind of pony ignores helping a sick filly?” she fumed. 

Okay, fine, the filly didn’t really exist, but he couldn’t know that. 

Huffing in annoyance, Aqua Drop, otherwise known as Agent Aqua Drop of the Secret Monster Intelligence League of Equestria, followed after her quarry. She moved quickly enough to keep pace, but slowly enough to still look lost. Not that she was. Though she didn’t have a horn to light the way, she had the next best thing: Enchanted contacts. 

They were one of S.M.I.L.E.’s latest creations, and so far, Agent Aqua Drop had to say they were passing their field test. Too bad they couldn’t help her figure out how she was going to deal with Tattle Tale. 

Her plan had been a solid one. Appeal to the stallion’s goodwill, maybe even flirt a bit. Big, pleading eyes usually worked, she found, even more so if coat-to-coat contact came into play. She’d have him lead her to a local pharmacy, maybe even pretend to twist an ankle, all the while delaying his arrival to the meeting, per Celestia’s orders. 

To be perfectly honest, she’d been rather uncertain when she’d gotten the mission from the princess. This was absolutely not in the agency’s purview. But she also didn’t live under a rock. She knew about the insanity of the tabloid situation. She’d also heard about how big those lawsuits were. 

Aqua wasn’t an economist, but you didn’t need to be one to figure that amount of bits could put a hole in the crown’s budget big enough for a Zebrican elephant to go through, and for all she knew, her own job could be at stake if the agency was forced to downsize, to say nothing of what that would mean for Equestria’s security. 

How was she going to slow him down? Bump into him? That was probably the best way to start. After that, maybe then she could try the sprained ankle trick. 

As she followed Tattle through the fog, she saw that the road ahead was clogged with carriages and ponies. Tattle saw it, too, and veered to his left to the much more maneuverable sidewalk. Not that maneuverability appeared to matter to the dogged stallion. When he didn’t try to move around ponies, which was not especially often, he simply barreled into them, forcing a path through the crowd. 

“Out of the way, grandma!” Tattle shouted to an elderly earth pony mare, hitting her with a telekinetic shove. The mare screamed, she and her walker tipping sideways into a ladder where a shop owner had been busy hanging a banner for their store. The store owner let out his own shriek, flailing wildly to regain his balance.

Aqua gasped in shock. What the hay kind of pony…? 

Then she remembered her secondary objective: help minimize any potential harm. Driven by her orders, and common equine decency, Aqua Drop leapt into action, calling on all her training as she moved to catch the elderly mare before she hit the pavement. 

Everything moved at a snail’s pace as Aqua Drop charged. As she got within inches of her goal, the banner that the store owner had been so carefully fixing above his shop door came loose, falling directly in front of Aqua’s face. 

She stumbled, yelling as her vision was momentarily blacked out. Her nose smacked into something hard and wooden, and the next thing Aqua Drop knew, several very heavy objects collided with her, sending her crashing to the ground. 

Once she got the banner off her face, she discovered a total of five things. One, the elderly mare and her walker were both on top of her, the latter accounting for Aqua’s sore ribs. Two, her nose hurt a lot, and was, in all likelihood, broken. Three, the store owner had fallen off the ladder to land on top of her. Four, the ankle of her right hind leg really did feel broken, and five, that nopony seemed to have been injured other than her. 

Make that six things, because even as Aqua Drop processed the tally of her crash, she could see the form of Tattle Tale racing off down the street, not even slowing down. 

Aqua Drop suddenly understood now, more than ever, why the princess had wanted this pony stopped. 





Celestia slid a tray filled with fresh oat muffins across the table. “Would you like any, Mr. Gossip?” She smiled. “Chef Braise makes some of the best oat muffins I’ve ever tasted.” 

The stallion nodded his head, perhaps a bit too eagerly. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” He levitated one up and took a bite. 

“You have to understand, Mr. Gossip, the situation with your paper has caused me quite a bit of trouble,” Celestia began. 

“I have,” the stallion began, before freezing up and swallowing the piece of muffin still in his mouth. He coughed. “I mean, yes, I’ve heard about the lawsuits, Your Majesty.” His magical grip on the muffin was shaky, so rather than take another bite, he levitated a knife into a nearby dish of butter. 

“Lawsuits that only exist thanks to your articles,” Celestia pointed out. 

The butter slid off the knife, staining the tablecloth. “That may be true, Your Majesty, but the pictures—”

“Were taken out of context,” Celestia interjected, sounding just reprimanding enough to spook him, but not too much. “Not to mention the questions regarding how you acquired a picture of my stylist’s appointment book.” 

“W-Well…” the unicorn stammered.





Winter Meadow, otherwise known as Agent Winter Meadow, did his best not to shiver in the cold, foggy air hanging around him. He pushed his glasses back up his muzzle. His cover was rather impressive, if he said so himself, and he did. 

After all, who would expect a lookout disguised as a blind pony? 

Of course, there were other reasons he’d chosen this cover, once he’d learned he’d be stationed in the fog zone. He absolutely refused to wear the anti-fog contacts. Not that there was anything wrong with them. He trusted the lab ponies, and everypony knew Agent Smart was accident prone, so that incident with the inflatable saddlebag two months ago was not a design flaw.  

Winter just hated contacts, period. They were irritating and dealing with the solution was just annoying, and so was the trouble of finding them if you lost them. Thankfully, the ponies in the lab had the foresight to create anti-fog glasses as well. 

So far, though, there was nothing to report. No sign of any suspicious activity, no sign of trouble from the fog, and definitely no sign of Tattle Tale. Most likely, he’d already been delayed by whoever had been stationed near his apartment. 

He played a few more notes on the accordion held aloft in his magic before placing it back in his saddlebags. He picked up the hat on the pavement beside him, and smiled. He’d even picked up a few nice tips today. 

The pale unicorn drew out his walking stick from his bag and tapped it a few times as if he truly couldn’t see, before walking toward a nearby bench. It was about time to get off his hooves, and it’s not like standing was that much better of a vantage point. 

As he turned, however, something, or rather, somepony, collided with him, and the agent was sent sprawling across the sidewalk. 

“Watch where you’re going!” barked a male voice as Winter tried to clear the stars from his vision. 

Winter blinked, seeing a gray-coated, black maned unicorn stallion standing over him. The stallion’s hoof lashed out, kicking away the walking stick. “What kind of moron are you, standing in the middle of the street?” 

Winter was pretty sure he’d been on the edge of the sidewalk, not the middle of the road. “But…but I’m blind, sir,” was his only response, still dazed from the hit. 

“You bet you are! If you made me late…” the stallion growled. “Nevermind. I have places to be!” Then he dashed off, a loud crack following in his wake as he disappeared into the fog. 

For a minute, Winter just lay there, too confused by the incredibly rude pony that had bowled him over. Finally, realization hit him like an anvil. That was Tattle Tale! He had to move quickly to…wait a minute, why was he seeing fog? 

His hoof flew to his face. His glasses were gone. Winter bolted upright, searching for his glasses. There they were! He grabbed them in his magic…only to see the empty frames. The reporter must have stepped on them after he’d knocked Winter over. 

Growling in frustration (and maybe just a hint of anger from the residual pain), Winter grabbed his accordion, his hat and all his tips had been lost in the fog, lit his horn, and raced after Tattle Tale. 

It didn’t take long to find him. At least Winter was pretty sure it was him. He saw a pony running through the fog, so it was probably Tattle. Winter needed to slow him down, and fast. Winter drew out his accordion, and flipped the hidden switch, activating the secret mechanism. 

The anti-fog glasses weren’t the only things he’d gotten from the lab. 

Inside his accordion was a device that fired tranquilizer darts simply by squeezing the instrument together. The engineer ponies had even managed to make it so that the accordion was completely silent. One shot of this stuff would have Tattle out for hours. 

Finally, Tattle came to a stop, checking the street signs. Winter lined up, took aim, and squeezed…just as Tattle Tale bolted away. 

Winter’s shot hit another stallion carrying groceries. The stallion froze, collapsing on the road, the contents of his wicker basket spilling around him. The agent winced. He was definitely not mentioning that in the report. 

All the same, he pushed the stallion up against a wall. Wouldn’t want him to become a speed bump. 

He chased Tattle down the street, stopping at an intersection when he could no longer hear the sound of hooves on stone. Where had he gone? 

There was a sound from the alley to his left. “Got you!” Winter cried, turning sharply and firing another shot. The clouds shifted, parting just enough to allow Winter to see his downed target…and revealing a very terrified raccoon, arms held up in surrender. The dart was lodged in the stone right above its head. 

“Uh…sorry,” he offered, before resuming the chase.

He managed to find Tattle galloping down a side street, or at least he presumed it was Tattle. What other pony, besides him, of course, would be galloping through a fog bank? Not that there was much of it left. A few dozen more feet, and the reporter would be completely out of the fog zone. 

The director would have his head if he let Tattle escape. Tartarus, the princess might have his head. 

Winter brought up his accordion. He only had one more tranquilizer dart, so he had to make it count. He aimed, trying his best to hold it steady despite his speed and the adrenaline coursing in his veins, and fired. 

In the moments before and after Winter took the shot, several things happened. First, Tattle Tale, in his wild rush, violently bumped into one Saxtuba, the proprietor of the music store located on that very street. Second, Winter’s shot, like his others, missed wildly, and once again struck the wrong pony. Third, the dart hit Mr. Saxtuba instead. 

At the time all of this had happened, the music store owner had simply been taking new inventory into his shop, and had just barely managed to stabilize himself after being jostled by the very rude unicorn. Once the dart hit, however, the poor stallion went down like a ton of bricks. 

The inventory he’d been carrying, a collection of the highest quality drum sticks in all of Equestria (twenty bits a pair), fell into the street. Agent Winter rushed over to check on him, and immediately lost his hoofing on the now drumstick-laden road. 

With a wild yell, the S.M.I.L.E. agent slid headlong past his unwitting victim and into the open door of “Saxtuba’s Musical Emporium.” From there, he collided with a display of high-quality violins, which proceeded to avenge the music merchant by falling on Winter’s head. 

Staggering from the blow, Winter proceeded to knock over a collection of woodwinds, and then a few percussion instruments, and even the brass section, until an entire orchestra had fallen upon the poor unicorn in an army of musical wrath, and producing a cacophony that would probably have caused Mr. Saxtuba to faint, had he not already been unconscious. 

Buried under the pile of damaged instruments, Winter Meadow lay down in defeat. 





“Tattle Tale seems singularly focused on writing about me,” said Princess Celestia. She took a delicate bite of an oat muffin. “Is it normal for a reporter to be so focused and prolific on a single subject?” 

Salacious cleared his throat. “It’s not terribly unusual for a reporter to go with a subject for a while. Even ponies at The Times have been known to do series.” He cleared his throat again. “And a reporter is free to write on whatever subject they choose to, as long as the result meets editorial standards.” 

“Yes, I remember how freedom of the press works,” Celestia commented. “I was the one who established it, after all.” She took another sip. “But I have to say, I was starting to get the impression of actual malice with regards to Tattle Tale’s articles.” 

The solar alicorn let the words hang in the air. Actual malice would be a different matter. It was the difference between a successful defamation suit and an outcry of royal overreach. Not that it would be that easy. Celestia had already been over that with her own lawyers. 

Still, she knew the suggestion was enough to unsettle the unicorn, and that was enough. 

Salacious, for his part, merely cleared his throat again. 

“Are you ill, Mr. Gossip?” Celestia asked calmly. “Perhaps you should drink more tea.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” croaked Salacious. He filled his cup and took a hearty gulp. “And as far as Tattle goes, I can assure you, he’s not doing this on purpose. He can be difficult, sure, but malicious? Never.” 





“This scent is guaranteed to drive your coltfriend crazy!” 

Strawberry Breeze smiled as she pushed the bottle toward the eager young mare. “It’s a steal at only eight bits.” 

Her customer sniffed the mouth of the bottle. “Oh, it smells amazing! I’ll take three.” 

With a quick exchange of bits, her customer departed, and Strawberry waved her goodbye. “Good luck on your date!” she called out. 

The bright pink unicorn slid her earnings into the register, smiling to herself. Despite the early hour, she’d already made a good haul, and she still had a large stock to work with. Canterlot was always a good place to sell her more expensive products, and Strawberry busied herself putting more stock on the table in front of her. 

It was mornings like this that it was hard to remember she was a S.M.I.L.E. agent. 

Then again, all of this was pretty routine. Her first job as a traveling perfume merchant provided an excellent cover for her second one. Strawberry had never even needed to wear a disguise, which was kind of sad when she thought about it, because that seemed like fun. But, hey, this way she was bringing in more bits to support her family’s business. 

Her attention was drawn to a commotion at one end of the market. A gray unicorn stallion was forcing his way through the crowds of people, rocketing past her stand. For a moment, she stood there, puzzled at what the rush was, and then memories of her briefing flashed through her mind. 

That…that was Tattle Tale! He was outside the fog zone! Strawberry gaped. Sure, she’d been put out here just in case, but she’d considered the likelihood of encountering the tabloid reporter to be incredibly low. How had he gotten past the other agents? 

She needed to act, and act now. Fishing out her “On Break” sign, she placed it on the counter of her stand and grabbed her saddlebags. She had something that would slow him down alright. Strawberry fumbled with the contents of her bag, finding her literal secret weapon: The Super Secret Sneezing Spritzer. 

While it looked like a normal perfume bottle, the liquid inside was designed to cause uncontrollable sneezing fits. Some might have considered it little better than a prank, but this stuff was powerful, and was a harmless way to immobilize a target long enough to restrain them. Strawberry herself had used it to take down quite a few suspects in her career. 

She was in luck. The crowds were even thicker up ahead, with barely any room for Tattle to push his way through. All Strawberry had to do was go up to him, pretend to be showing off a sample, and douse him with the spray. Then she’d take him aside, fawn over his unfortunate reaction, and keep him occupied for as long as she could. Best of all, he wouldn’t be in any position to argue. 

Strawberry drew closer, putting on her best customer service smile. “Excuse me, sir?” 

“Gotta be a way through,” muttered Tattle anxiously. “Gotta be a way through.” 

“Sir, would you like to sample this cologne?” 

Tattle didn’t even look at her. “Don’t have the time!” he snapped. “Get lost!” 

Annoyance flickered across Strawberry’s face, but she schooled her features, and moved closer, holding the Sneezing Spritzer just a little bit higher. “Please, sir, it will only take a moment, I prom—”

Strawberry never got to finish her pitch. In that moment, Tattle had reached out with his magic and grabbed the support pole of a pottery merchant’s tent, pulling it free, and causing the entire structure to collapse, much to the merchant’s horror. 

Tattle pulled the pole toward himself, and in the process, the back end of the pole was thrust toward her face. Instinct took over, and Strawberry defended herself with the only object she had ready, the bottle of perfume. 

The bottle shattered on impact. In a stroke of luck, none of the glass so much as touched her face. But such luck was counterbalanced by the fact that the liquid hit her instead. 

The sneezing came on almost instantly. Powerful, uncontrollable sneezes. To say the stuff was irritating was an understatement. It was all Strawberry could do to breathe, even as air was blasted out her nose at an alarming rate. 

The perfume seller watched with tear-filled eyes as Tattle Tale used the pole as a ramp, climbing his way to an upper landing to take him up and over the crowd of ponies that had otherwise corked the marketplace. 

“Get…ACHOO!…back…ACHOO!…here!” she screamed, even as the sneezing got worse. She only ever used one spritz on the targets she’d taken down before, and now her nose had been assaulted with an extra-large dose. She staggered backwards, propelled by her sneezing, all the while trying to fish through her saddlebags for the neutralizing agent she always kept on hoof. Where was it? Where was it?!

As she stumbled blindly, Strawberry never noticed how close she’d gotten to the sewer opening. Only when her tail brushed up against the wooden barricade set up by the workponies did Strawberry halt in her tracks. 

She took a breath, taking in as much oxygen as she dared, trying her best to fight the irritation in her nasal passages. She needed the neutralizer. She needed to stop sneezing before she…

“AH-CHOO!”

The sneeze struck like a herd of yaks barreling down her nose, one of such almighty force that it pushed her past the barricade, and right down the opening to the Canterlot sewer system. 

The irritant in her nose was replaced by the rancid stench of sewage, and, surrounded by very confused workponies, Strawberry Breeze lowered her head in defeat. 





“Princess, The Whisperer is making a great deal of bits from our recent sales,” said Salacious Gossip politely. “If we were to stop, it would be bad for our business.” 

“I am aware of that,” answered the princess with a calming smile. “And I am willing to help you. Tell me, Mr. Gossip, do you like your current offices?” 

Panic spread across the unicorn’s face. “You’re not going to take them from us, are you? Please, Your Majesty, don’t shut us down! I—”

“Calm yourself, Mr. Gossip. Have some more tea,” soothed Princess Celestia, offering the teapot to the unicorn. A panic attack was good for nopony. “I am merely asking. Do you like them?” 

Salacious poured himself a cup and gulped it down hard. “W-Well, to be honest, it’s not the best space you could ask for. It’s getting a bit run-down.” 

Celestia smiled. That was just the sort of thing she’d wanted to hear. “Then how would you feel if I helped you move?” 

Salacious’s cup nearly hit the table, only saved by Celestia’s magic. “Excuse me?” 

“I am not here to simply give orders, Mr. Gossip,” explained the solar alicorn. “I am also here to offer something in exchange. I am willing to provide assistance, discreetly, to allow your business to move into whatever office space you so choose. I can even help with furnishings, if you like.” 

Salacious gaped. “That’s…very generous of you, Your Majesty.” 

“There would be a trade, however,” Celestia added. “Before I do such a thing, I would ask that you print a retraction with regards to your recent headlines, and keep Tattle Tale, or any of your reporters, from writing about me in such a way.” 

It would be a loss in bits for her. Celestia knew that. And it was rather unfortunate, having to give them money after all the grief they’d caused. But on the other hoof, the potential costs were vastly outweighed by the mounting sums of the lawsuits. 

Celestia smiled. “Does that sound like a fair trade for your business, Mr. Gossip?” 

The unicorn sat back in his seat, completely stunned. “I…” 





Thunder Charge, or Agent Thunder Charge, was standing around the Canterlot market, keeping watch for their target. The earth pony stretched his back. He needed to keep his muscles loose, in the event they needed to do any running. 

“This is ridiculous,” said the pony standing next to him, otherwise known as Agent Wind Chaser. “The chances that he’d make it this far past the other agents…he’d have to be crazy lucky or something.” 

“Not arguing there,” replied Thunder Charge. “But just in case, we need to be ready. The palace is only a few blocks away from this end of the market.” 

Wind Chaser nodded. “Guess you have a point.” He smiled. “At least spotting him will be easy. I mean, there’s only one way in, and it’s clogged.” He pointed a hoof at the throng of ponies clogging the passage to the other end of the market. “For him to sneak up on us, he’d have to drop out of the sk—”

“GET OUT OF THE WAY!” 

CRASH!

“You moron, why don’t you watch where you’re standing?!” snapped the gray-coated unicorn that had literally dropped down on Wind Chaser. The stallion looked at his watch anxiously. “Gotta hurry!” Then, he darted off through the market. 

Thunder Charge could only stand there, gawking at the pony that had just trampled his friend. Only a groan from Wind Chaser knocked the earth pony back to his senses. 

“Who the hay was that?” said Wind Chaser, getting slowly to his hooves.

Thunder’s memory kicked in. “That…That was Tattle Tale! Come on, we’ve got to catch him!” 

“And do what?” Wind Chaser shouted as they began to gallop down the market road. “How are we going to delay him?” 

“We’ll figure that out when we get to it!” Thunder shouted back. 

Up ahead, the market stretched on, lined with countless food stands on each side. Tattle was in range, tearing through the crowds with reckless abandon, knocking them, and objects, down as he went. It was enough to set Thunder’s teeth on edge, and miss the days when he was in the Royal Guard. 

Actually, maybe they could perform a citizen’s arrest. 

Ahead of Tattle, a line of colts and fillies had formed before a stand selling caramel apples. “Make way!” screamed the unicorn. The children jumped out of the way, but in Tattle’s wild charge, his flank knocked against the barrel of fresh caramel apples, sending them tumbling into the road. 

“My apples!” screamed the earth pony merchant as her customers broke into screaming tears. 

Thunder Charge picked up speed, crushing the caramel apples under his hooves as he went, and feeling the sticky residue trying to hold him back. But he continued on, powerful muscles rocketing him forward, even as Tattle continued to send food and barrels careening down the market with such frequency, the earth pony had to wonder if it was a deliberate act rather than negligence. 

“My cabbages!” screamed one merchant. 

“My bananas!” screamed another. 

Bits of food and trash were sticking to Thunder’s hooves now, and twice, he barely avoided slipping on the bananas, but Thunder kept on. “Can’t you fly over and get him?” he huffed. 

“Can’t,” gasped Wind Chaser, keeping pace beside him. “I think I sprained a wing when he landed on me.” 

Thunder gritted his teeth. So much for that. They were both pretty fast, but between these obstacles and Tattle’s lead, they were going to be hard pressed to catch up with him. 

That was when a new obstacle came toward them. A pair of wooden barrels. What their contents were, Thunder Charge didn’t know, but he immediately banked right to avoid one. Wind Chaser, the pegasus that he was, instinctually took to the air, forgetting about his injured wing. 

Thunder watched his fellow agent tense up, wings unable to support him, before crashing back down onto the barrel before landing in a heap in one of the food stands. Wind Chaser sat there in stunned dizziness, patrons fawning worriedly over him. He was down for the count. 

It was all up to Thunder now. 

He picked up more speed, willing himself to close the gap between him and Tattle. If he didn’t delay him, if the reporter got to the meeting too early, then the princess’s plan would be for nothing. He would have failed the crown. He had to catch him.

Up ahead, he saw Tattle careen his way past a wagon carrying pumpkins. Once again, his uncoordinated movements, rather than make him fall, succeeded in knocking him into the wagon driver, and somehow, in that powerful jolt, something in the wagon gave way, and the pumpkins came rolling free, straight for Thunder Charge. 

The earth pony agent dodged left, then dodged right, then left again, sprinting his way around the pumpkins, and hoping they didn’t do any real damage to the market. The princess wouldn’t be pleased if any civilians got hurt, that was one of their priorities. But so was catching Tattle, and he didn’t have time to check. 

He dodged two more pumpkins, closing the gap between them by a few more feet, and allowed himself the briefest of smiles. He was going to make it. He knew he would…

And that’s when the last pumpkin came rolling toward him. 

It wasn’t like the others. While they had been everything from big to small, this one was gigantic, easily the size of the royal chariot. Thunder Charge barely had time to contemplate what miracle of earth pony work had managed to create produce of that size before the thing was on top of him, crushing him under his weight with a wet splat. 

Thunder Charge didn’t even get to see Tattle Tale turn the corner out of the market. 





Victory was in her hooves; she was sure of it. 

Salacious Gossip hadn’t quite taken her offer, but she could tell he was on the edge. Just a little bit longer, and she’d have him. 

“I can improve the offer, if you’d like,” Celestia said. “In addition to helping you move, I could pay your rent on the new location for a period of, let’s say, three years?” The unicorn still hesitated, so Celestia tried again. “I could also prevent The Whisperer from being audited for a period of five years.” 

“Not forever?” Salacious asked quietly. 

“Your business has never been audited at all, Mr. Gossip,” she clarified. “It would be irresponsible of me to waive that completely. But I am a patient mare, and willing to be flexible. And you yourself must admit, whatever boost in sales you’re getting now will be well balanced by the bits I’d be saving you.” 

She leaned forward, keeping her expression as pleasant as she could, not letting her own eagerness show. “All I ask in return is that you stop all this. Print a retraction. Use your influence to get Tattle Tale to stop. This entire situation won’t do either of us much good in the end, I assure you.” She locked her eyes with his. “Please, Mr. Gossip, won’t you take my offer?” 

“It is a very generous offer,” the unicorn conceded, and it took incredible willpower to keep herself from grinning. “And…I suppose some of those articles have been rather nasty, haven’t they?” He nodded his head, and Celestia wanted to leap into the air in joy. “Alright, Your Majesty, you have a—”

The door to the room suddenly burst open. “HOLD IT RIGHT THERE, CHIEF!” 

Celestia’s gaze shot to the doorway, eyeing the gray-coated, black-maned unicorn before her. 

Tattle Tale. 

How had he gotten past her agents?! Agent Furlong was one thing, but to escape multiple S.M.I.L.E. agents was basically impossible!

The reporter was practically hyperventilating, but somehow managed to swagger his way into the room. “Sorry I’m late, princess. There was some kind of cloud accident.” 

“Well, I’m glad you finally made it, Tattle,” said Salacious Gossip. “The princess and I were about to close up a deal.” 

“That’s great, chief!” said the reporter with what Celestia could tell was false cheer. “You can tell me about it later. You’re probably needed back at the office.” 

Salacious looked at his watch. “Oh, you’re right!” He turned back to her. “Thank you for your time, Your Majesty. I’ll accept your offer.” 

With that, Salacious Gossip walked off down the hall, and the doors to the meeting room closed. 

Tattle Tale remained behind. 





“You’re not leaving, Mr. Tattle Tale?” asked the princess. “I am truly sorry you missed the meeting, but as you could gather, your editor and I came to a satisfactory bargain.” 

“I thought we could talk in private,” replied Tattle. “I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong hoof,” he said genially. “I’m just a pony doing his job.”

“What you’re doing is spreading blatant lies,” shot back Celestia. “You are deliberately targeting me.” She grimaced. “Do you have any idea the trouble your articles have generated? The lawsuits you’ve created?” 

Tattle shrugged. “Stories about you sell papers. It’s nothing personal.” 

“Well,” said the princess, her expression brightening. “If it’s nothing personal, then you won’t have a problem with my request to print a retraction.” 

That’s what Tattle had figured she’d do. “I have a proposition of my own, if you don’t mind.” 

The alicorn raised an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

“I want you to stop messing with The Whisperer. It’s getting annoying. Plus, nothing you do actually works.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” lied the princess. A single regal eyebrow rose. “But even if I did, do you expect me to simply...let you publish these harmful stories about me without a fight?”

“You’ll do it,” he said confidently. “You’ll do it because you’re not going to like the alternative.”

Celestia took a step closer. “Is that meant to be a threat? For your sake, I hope not, Mr. Tattle Tale, because then I’d be within my rights to summon my guards. Threatening a princess is a very serious crime.”

Tattle knew that, of course, but his confidence was like a steel wall, and it held firm. “You got a point there,” he conceded. “So, if you’re going to be like that, I suppose I could just move on to covering safer...subjects.” He nearly said targets. A sly grin slid across his face. “Like say...that little student of yours.”

He watched as Celestia’s harsh expression faltered. “W-What?”

Tattle pressed his advantage. “Sunset Shimmer, right? Cute kid. From what I understand, she’s the first student you’ve had in over a century, and your youngest to boot. Seems like the kind of pony the public would be interested to know about. Bet I could do a whole series of exposés.” 

The temperature in the room rose dramatically, and beneath Tattle’s overcoat, beads of sweat began to pour like salty rivers. Celestia closed the gap between them, her greater size towering over him. Her earlier expression of shock was replaced by one of furious, dark rage that could have routed an army all by itself. 

“I’d take care in what you say, Mr. Tattle Tale,” hissed the princess in a tone that sounded like the noise you hear from an overheated boiler right before it explodes. “Those kinds of suggestions can be very dangerous.” 

The thing about steel walls was that steel could still melt, and at that precise moment, Tattle’s confidence was fairly molten. He swallowed hard, taking a couple steps back from a version of Celestia he wasn’t sure anypony had ever seen. The serene immortal princess was replaced with some enraged terror. 

Was it his imagination, or did her mane seem redder all of a sudden? 

Tattle instinctively kept moving backwards, trying to put the table between himself and the angry princess. She followed him the entire way, matching step for step. He watched as she passed by a vase of fresh flowers, and how those very flowers instantly wilted, the water flashing to steam just from proximity. 

Tattle suppressed a whimper. 

The princess continued to follow him, glaring at him with those magenta eyes that somehow appeared almost golden now, like two burning suns. Radiant heat continued to flow off her body, and even her regalia looked ready to boil. 

Tattle held out his pen defensively…and then it melted. So much for it being mightier than the sword. That had been his favorite one, too. 

“And if you are serious about using my student as the subject of your tabloid.” She spat the last word. “What’s to stop me from arresting you right now? You, Mr. Tattle Tale, have threatened me, attempted to blackmail me, and have also threatened Sunset Shimmer.” 

Tattle held out his notebook as a shield…nope, that had incinerated. He grabbed the teapot in his magic, hurling the remaining liquid at her in a desperate attempt to put out the inferno before him. All it accomplished was scenting the room with jasmine when the tea evaporated in mid-air. Maybe it would cover up the stench of his roasting body. 

Magenta eyes flashing with gold narrowed. “What’s to stop me from arresting you, putting you in the darkest cell in the castle, throwing away the key, and ending your entire career?” 

Tattle’s mouth opened and closed a few times, unable to form sounds. 

“Nothing, really,” the princess decided. Her horn burned with magic. “So, I think I will…” 

For a moment, Tattle Tale thought this was how it would end. His entire career turned to ashes, and then those ashes completely vaporized, by the unbridled fury of a solar alicorn. But at the very last moment, before the princess could do whatever her burning hot magic was going to do, the molten scraps of his confidence rallied, and he let loose his contingency plan. 

“If you do that, everypony will know what Sunset’s capable of!” he burst out.

In an instant, the heat that had suffused the room vanished, along with the light of the princess’s magic. Her dark expression was replaced once again by a state of complete, silent shock. 

The unicorn took his chance. “I’ve heard some really interesting stories about her,” he said, trying to air out his sweaty overcoat. “For example, she goes through guard escorts like tissue paper. All nine of them quit not long into the job. I heard they’re all afraid of her.” 

“H-How did you…?” the princess sputtered. Actually sputtered! Tattle felt himself grinning as he pressed on. 

“Can’t say I blame them,” he added with a shrug. “What with that arsenal of spells, some of them way too dangerous for a kid her age, not to mention the raw damage she did to the palace as early as, say…this past summer?” 

He grinned a little wider even as Celestia’s pupils shrunk to pinpricks. “Destructive little tyke, isn’t she? Seems like something the public ought to know, and thanks to me, they will.”

Now, Tattle Tale pulled out his trump card. “See, I already wrote my first article, and it’s sitting ready and waiting at the presses right now. It’ll go to print, too, if I don’t get back to the office in the next hour. And in case you think you can stop it,” he added, “I also sent a copy to my friends at other tabloids all across Equestria, and they’ll publish within a week unless I tell them not to.” 

That part was a blatant lie. He really didn’t have friends at any other paper, too busy kicking the competition while they were down. But the princess didn’t need to know that. “Throw me in the dungeon and your student will be The Whisperer’s next big news sensation, not to mention every other tabloid in the country.” 

Tattle Tale waited for her answer, and watched in amazement as the once-fearsome princess, the same one that had looked ready to incinerate him mere moments before, began trembling. 

“Do you have…any idea what you’re doing?” came her shaky whisper. “If you write those stories…if you…the parents. They’ll have her expelled from school. I won’t be able to stop it, and no other institution would take her. She’ll be stigmatized.” 

Her face went visibly pale under her coat, and her body trembled even harder, as if fear had struck her like a raging dragon, grasping her entire nervous system in its claws. 

“You’ll ruin her life,” she said breathlessly. Celestia fixed him with a desperate stare. “Don’t you understand?” she pleaded. “You’ll ruin her life! For Mother’s sake, she’s not even eight years old!”

Tattle Tale shrugged again. “Hey, everypony’s got to grow up some time.” For a moment, his mind latched onto her turn of phrase, wondering who, or what, Celestia’s mother was. But those thoughts were overwhelmed by the raw giddiness that danced inside him. 

In Tattle’s long career, he was not a stranger to blackmail. Nothing big, mind you. A few small favors from ponies with scandals they didn’t want getting out, things that had helped Tattle in his climb to the top of his little food chain. He never pushed too hard, never blackmailed anypony he worked with, and always made sure his ammo was good. 

Tattle Tale knew how to limit himself. In fact, he hadn’t blackmailed anypony in…a year or two, maybe. He’d lost track, to be honest. When Javelin Throw had started talking about Sunset, the newspony’s curiosity had been as piqued as it had with the princess herself. 

So, as the days went on, Tattle had met up with the guard again and again, plying him for information. He didn’t even have to be very subtle about it. Guy was as thick as a concrete wall. Another gift from Lady Luck. From those conversations, Tattle had acquired ammunition on a scale he’d never even dreamed of. 

Sure, Sunset wasn’t Celestia’s kid, but he knew the princess wouldn’t let her come to harm. She seemed like that kind of pony. Good at heart and all that. He knew he’d be able to leverage her cooperation, at least in giving him carte blanche with his articles. 

But he hadn’t expected her reaction to be this strong. The way she was responding, he might as well have been holding the filly over an active volcano. 

If Tattle Tale had been a different sort of pony, he might have taken a moment to think about the implications of that. But since he was, decidedly not, a different sort of pony, he instead focused on how it drastically changed the game. 

The bargaining chip he thought he’d had was a full-on weak point. He’d found a way to bend the very ruler of all Equestria to his will. Him. A simple tabloid reporter. Victorious over the mare that commanded the heavens. 

“Of course,” he added, trying his best to contain his excitement, “None of that has to happen if you just cooperate.” 

The alicorn sat back on her haunches, staring at him with a look of contempt. “What do you want?” she spat. 

“Like I said, I want you to stop messing with The Whisperer. No more attempts to stop us, no fighting to disprove the articles, none of it. And you let me publish whatever I want. About you. About somepony else. I may write articles on different…subjects,” he’d nearly said targets again. “You know, just to spice things up.” 

“But you’ll leave Sunset alone?” the princess shot back. 

He gave her a reassuring smile. “Sure,” he nodded. “The little monster will be perfectly safe.” 

The alicorn’s face hardened. “Don’t call her that,” she growled. 

“You say po-tay-to, I say po-tah-to.” 

“Your editor won’t let you write about me,” said the princess. “We came to an agreement.” 

Tattle tapped his chin with a hoof. “That’s a good point. I guess I’ll just tell him that you changed your mind. 

“And I’ll tell him you’re a liar.”

“A compliment, an understatement, and a moot point. If he cared, I’d be gone already. You should probably still give him whatever it was you offered, just to keep him happy.” 

“And if he wonders about my sudden change of heart?” 

“Then you’ll just have to explain it to him, won’t you?” Tattle Tale licked his lips, considering his next words. Here was the grand opportunity. The chance to up his game to the next level, to take full advantage of the glorious gift Lady Luck had thrown his way. “There are a few other things I want, too.” 

“Like what?” asked the princess angrily. 

Tattle hummed dramatically. “Let’s say about…a thousand bits a month.” 

Celestia’s eyes widened. “A thousand a month?!” 

“For the rest of my life,” added Tattle Tale. “Plus, freedom from the ERS. Don’t want to lose any of that in surprise audits, am I right?” He chuckled. “Maybe some other favors, too, whenever I think of them.” 

“You want to rob the treasury after the damage you’ve already done?” protested the alicorn. 

Tattle fixed her with a stare. “Do it, or your star pupil becomes a tabloid star instead.” He gave her another smile. “We have a deal?” 

Celestia shot him a venomous glare, but, to his exhilaration, nodded slowly. “We…have a deal, Mr. Tattle Tale,” she said weakly, as if speaking the words took all of her strength. 

Tattle Tale nodded. “See you later then, princess.” 

With that, The Whisperer’s star reporter, no, possibly the greatest tabloid reporter on Terra itself, sauntered back out of Canterlot Castle, a song on his lips.