Good For Nearly All Princess Labor, Public And Private

by Estee

Rating: everyone
Tags: Princess Celestia, Slice of Life, Princess Luna, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 10218

Be careful what you engrave on your money. You never know when somepony may ask you to live up to it.

In the first days of attempting to establish the foundation of a new nation's currency, a pair of rookie rulers decided to back Equestria's economy with the greatest offering they could make to the world: the promise of their own labor. And it worked -- but there was a certain problem with the way that promise had been made, and so the original currency was eventually recalled. But the sisters never got all of it. And legally, that promise is still good.

Whether Celestia likes it or not.

(A stand-alone, no prior-reading-necessary part of the Triptych Continuum, which has its own TVTropes page and FIMFiction group: new members and trope edits are welcome. )

Now with author Patreon, SubscribeStar, and Ko-Fi pages.

Published 2016-08-01 02:00:01 UTC
Last updated 2016-08-01 02:00:01 UTC

E Pluribus Equus

Celestia laughed with merriment, then clapped her forehooves together to show that extra degree of appreciation in the family's comedy performance. (Stomping was currently out: she was resting on the cushions of her throne, and the more conventional form of applause would have meant getting up.) "Gentlecolts," she smiled, "I have never seen anything like that. Anything at all, and I hope you're all truly considering the source on that. And that you chose to attend the Open Palace session two weeks before the opening of your play, to give me an exclusive preview of what all of Canterlot will undoubtedly soon be lining up to see --"

They waited. The youngest of the four brothers twitched within his formal suit. Another waggled his eyebrows and wriggled his upper lip enough to shift the crepe-paper mustache. A third had been visibly distracted by the attractive mares among her attending Guards and was currently occupied in some blink-based flirting, which seemed to be surprisingly effective. The last simply bit down on the bulb clenched between his teeth again, and the horn honked.

"-- well, gentlecolts, you're not the first ponies to seek cheap publicity." But she was still smiling, and it was as sincere as the mirth had been mere moments before. "Many ponies try to premiere their acts in front of me, in the hopes that the palace will give them approval, and then everypony else will go to see what I approve of -- at least for those who have a faint vestige of confidence in my taste." She very pointedly did not look at the fuming mare currently not-quite-lounging against the far right corner of the Solar throne room. "And in fact, my approving of you too openly will ultimately cost you some ticket sales -- but then, I wouldn't exactly count on that part of the audience having a sense of humor..."

There was a moderate temperature spike emanating from that corner now. It was balanced out by the sudden outburst of giggling on the far left.

"So you'll come?" asked the one with the purposefully-bad fake mustache. "Because we've got a seat for you. Two seats. Two seats and a place for the Guards. So eight seats. Two seats, a place for the Guards, and some buffer space -- twenty-four seats. Twenty-four seats. For two ponies. Who need two seats, eight seats, and twenty-four seats, for a total of thirty-four seats, all of which come out of the opening night box office." The eyebrows waggled again. "Actually, Princess, now that I think about it, if you really like us, you won't even show up."

She managed to turn the giggle into a true laugh before it actually emerged: the one on the right had already been given more than enough material to work with in the past, and the presence on the left wouldn't know what to do with something so simply pony as a giggle. "Princess Luna and I will see you there. Now, as much as I'd love to watch the whole revue, there are ponies in line outside the Sunrise Gate. So good day, gentlecolts, as good as I hope they all turn out to be for the matinee houses. And --" she smiled "-- chip a hoof."

They grinned, and three made their way out. The oldest had to be physically dragged away by his raised collar, although not before arranging two future meeting places. And then the Guards went to work, as there was a certain amount of comedy-produced debris which required cleaning before anypony else could be let in, mostly based around pies.

"Is it almost over?" Wordia Spinner grumbled from the right corner. "It's got to be getting close to sunset..."

"Oh, look at that," Raque Marshdew giggled within the left-side posting. "Somepony doesn't have a sense of humor. Which is really strange, given that everything you write is so unintentionally funny..."

"That wasn't humor," Wordia shot back. "That was structured chaos. If that's even possible! If I wanted humor, I'd read your defense of what happened during the last mayoral election!"

And with a perfectly-timed pause added to fully-faked amazement, "...you can read?"

It took precious seconds for Wordia to scramble for a comeback, time Celestia used to try and hold onto some of the recent true mirth so that it could be raised as a shield against the presence of the reporters.

The Open Palace sessions had been going on for centuries. At least once per moon during peacetime, she would open the main doors to the Solar Wing and invite anypony to approach her, anypony at all, for any reason they could think of. It meant a chance to meet the citizenry. It was an opportunity to connect. And -- well, in practice, she generally wound up doing a lot of non-binding arbitrations because too many ponies saw the sessions as a chance to have her personally render a verdict on their petty problems. There was the occasional declaration of love, along with more than a few attempts to prove it. Other ponies simply used the chance to tell a joke, one which they'd oddly felt was worth standing in line for up to eight hours before telling it to her. A few of those were professionals -- and, as with the brothers, acts and routines and careers had made their debuts before her delighted eyes.

Oh, there had been harsher times. Some ponies used their chance for criticism (occasionally valid, and she would listen), while others simply wished to vent directly to her snout, or -- worse. But this had been a good night. The arbitrations had been simple, and the ponies involved had largely agreed with her judgments, at least while they remained in her presence. The jokes had been funny. The only pony to declare his love had ultimately admitted to doing it because he'd lost a rigged dare, with his so-called friends outside listening for the rejection -- and then she'd turned the tables on them by briefly trotting out at his side, the session falsely canceled for what was never going to be their date, right up until the moment when his so-called friends fell for everything and the teenager got to laugh in their faces. And that had been followed by the brothers.

So far, it had been a good session, and there were only twenty minutes left before it would solidify into a truly good day. Which gave Celestia a chance at something truly precious: the chance to ruin Wordia's.

Ponies were often prone to a certain degree of groupthink: it was one of the perils of being a herd species. And to a degree, that trait also applied to those at the opposite ends of the newspaper coverage spectrum. The Canterlot Tattler, as the local Murdocks Press Corps publication, was forever anti-Diarchy, while the Palace Bugle was irrationally, often terrifyingly pro. On the surface, their representatives had nothing in common except their declared professions and ability to distort events into the things they'd wanted the story to be about, ignoring all reality in the process. And yet, both of their editors had, with no contact whatsoever other than the fight which inevitably broke out at the annual Horseshoe Dinner, simultaneously decided that they each needed a little extra filler for the next edition. Both lead Solar reporters had been assigned to that filler piece: to cover an Open Palace session and see if anything... interesting happened.

The two unicorn mares had more or less walked in on each other while making the request. Celestia had separated them. Quickly. And then rules had been laid down, because the Open Palace sessions were meant to be between her and the ponies who wished to visit, with the Guards sworn to silence. One pony had accepted her conditions instantly. The other had gone on a five-minute rant about the censorship inherent to lurking dictatorships and then retreated to her corner for the open chafing, because there was no other way they were going to be allowed in at all. And through the session... well, Celestia knew there was nothing under Sun or Moon that Wordia would not try to twist against the thrones: the sisters could somehow find a way to cure all disease everywhere in an instant, and the following day's headline would lead off with the fantasized unemployment statistics from having all the nation's physicians maliciously put out of work. But the mare would have to be at her creative best deep under Moon, because the actual events of the session were giving her nothing to work with.

Wordia was tucked into her corner, muttering to herself, the long white tail increasing its rate of lash.

Finally, "...you can write?" But it too had been a mutter, and Raque giggled at the weakness of the attempt as her rival continued to fume. At least for this day, Wordia hated her life.

And Celestia smiled.

"All right," she noted as the last of the whipped cream topping was cleaned off the floor. "That looks safe to trot across." (On her right, Wordia visibly mourned the loss of opportunity to write about the lack of palace safety standards, for a Celestia-blamed broken leg was guaranteed the front page.) "Let's see who's next!"

Glimmerglow opened the left-side door, and her Guard stepped back to reveal an earth pony, who entered alone.

It was an older stallion, deep into the senior years, at or past the point where most would consider retirement. His green-flash coat was heavily speckled with grey, while the mane had lost its original coloration entirely. There was white around his muzzle, and the eyes seemed more cloudy than Celestia would have liked to see. He moved slowly, forcing himself forward against the protests of old joints and the weight of two full saddlebags, their fabric only slightly more worn than the earth pony who bore them.

Celestia immediately resolved to be gentle.

"Greetings," she smiled. "And thank you for both coming so far --" it was a guess, but he had a farming mark and the nearest major agricultural areas were some distance out -- "and for waiting so long. Now, before we begin -- there are representatives of the press with us tonight. Are you comfortable with talking to me in front of them and having them write about what you say? If you aren't, they will depart for the duration of your stay." Because that had been the condition for letting them directly cover the session, whether they liked it or not. (Depressingly, Raque wasn't capable of briefly considering the possibility that she should ever be feeling something less than total approval.)

He thought about it. This took a while. His face contorted in a way which suggested his brain was trying to line up the words one letter at a time. The dominant expression could be read as either contemplative thought or moderate concussion.

"Nah," he finally said. "Got no problem with anypony hearing this."

Wordia muttered a little more, and her horn's corona ignited again, as did Raque's. The fields of both reporters held notepads at the ready.

"Then the floor is yours, gentlecolt." It wasn't exactly the first time Celestia had dearly wished for a formal term of address which didn't de-age the recipient.

He thought about that, too.

"Name's Sour Cream."

Celestia nodded.

More time passed.

"I'm a farmer. Own Green Acres. Been a farmer for a long time. No matter what the juniors say, I'm not gonna stop just because the farm feels a little bigger and the kids are grown up with farms of their own. On the coasts."

Waiting patiently. Wordia's tail was now moving at a pace more appropriate to a well-wielded razorwhip.

"Got a pasture which needs clearing. Tried to hire locals. They all left." He snorted. "All of them. They couldn't do it. Not a pony around who wants to do a honest day's labor any more. Can't hire nopony. Nopony at all."

"And you wish the palace to assist you with lining up help?" Celestia thoughtfully asked. She could at least make inquiries on his behalf, perhaps even see about finding a little volunteer work, at least if he didn't happen to be using the term 'pasture' for a section of land more suited to 'chaos terrain.'

"No," the farmer eventually said. "You're gonna clear it."

Wordia's head came up. Raque's mouth opened, very slightly.

"You," Sour Cream repeated. "Personally."

A pasture? Clearing a...

But externally, Celestia merely blinked. "Mr. Cream, I do my best to assist my little ponies whenever I can, but the thrones come with duties. Without knowing your schedule and comparing it to mine, I can't possibly answer that request. I would probably have an easier time arranging assistance --"

"-- you," he insisted. "That's the promise. The deal. I pay you. You work for me."

She was starting to wonder if it was a matter of how he was viewing his taxes. Celestia did collect a salary: to wit, she and Luna each received the exact average salary: take every other working pony in Equestria, add their incomes together, and divide by that part of the population. Given that her housing was taken care of and palace food was paid for out of the national budget, it mostly allowed her to make a number of charitable contributions while still occasionally getting some pastries sent from Sugarcube Corner. (Gaining a raise was a decidedly slow process.)

There was a horrible, ugly sound in the Solar throne room. Wordia was starting to giggle.

"Mr. Cream," Celestia carefully tried, "if you're talking about your taxes, they don't quite represent a direct hire --"

He shifted his barrel, and the saddlebags slid off. Poorly-fastened lids opened, and a portion of their contents cascaded across the marble.

They all stared. Reporters, Guards, and the pony who had just seen the past slam into the present and take out every jaw in the room.

There was gold, but it was ancient gold, the stylistic impression of her head unrefined. There was silver, and the only way for most living ponies to see a silver coin was to visit the world's best-equipped numismatist shop and hope for the find of their lives. (She knew of seven such coins in Ponyville, gifted by her sibling to those who had saved her.) Money had been spilled across the floor, Equestrian money -- and there was not a single bit in the mix.

Celestia froze, staring at the sols and lunes.

The promise had just been called in.

"I..."

He was staring at her. Both reporters were staring at her, and Wordia's lips were beginning to pull back into that distinctive smile. The one which suggested there was an invisible point on every tooth.

"Two days," Sour Cream stated. "You clear my pasture two days from now. Because I've got to travel back. That's the deal. I'll see you in two days. Got a train to catch." And he turned, leaving the saddlebags and their somehow-surviving contents behind, headed for the Gate --

"-- Mr. Cream -- wait." The farmer paused. "I'm going to issue a voucher for a hotel stay. I'm asking you to remain in Canterlot overnight."

"Got a train to --"

"-- and you'll go back by air carriage."

Stubbornly, "Already paid for the ticket --"

"-- the railway will refund it."

Wordia was scribbling furiously. The field tore lines of glow up and down page after page.

"I'm going to review the law," Celestia said, because it had been over a thousand years and she needed to review it. "As soon as the session ends. After that, I want to speak with you in private. And then I'll send you home in the morning."

"In the morning," the stallion repeated.

"Yes."

"And in two mornings, you'll clear my pasture."

He trotted out. A pair of Guards hastened to follow.

Celestia was still looking at the coins strewn across the marble floor. No part of the sight did anything to block the sound of Wordia's laughter.

Review and desperate talk together had taken her under Moon, and so Celestia quickly trotted through the palace to seek out advice, for there was once again somepony to seek advice from and -- well, she also wanted somepony to blame and the original culprit just happened to be on the premises. It had taken some time, but she'd finally cornered the source of her day's ruination in one of the reading rooms, resting on a specially-made long bench while having a quiet discussion with one of the Lunar Guards, a pegasus who had not been dismissed before Celestia began rather quickly describing the events: she simply sat quietly, listening in increasing confusion.

And finally, "Is that all of it?" asked the day ruiner.

Celestia nodded. The reloaded saddlebags held within her field bobbed in concert.

"The sum total," the original culprit double-checked. "You have not missed a single detail. There is nothing being overlooked which we might later use to effect a solution. You are certain?"

Again.

"Very well. In that case --"

Constellations shifted within the mane as her sister's head was tossed back. Dark hooves pounded against the bench. And the helpless laughter quickly filled the Lunar Wing, then threatened to overflow into Canterlot and beyond.

It took nearly two minutes before words managed to emerge.

"-- your turn! Your turn, sister! After all the trouble which has trotted into my Open Palace sessions, the sessions you tricked me into starting by never mentioning the arbitrations until it was two minutes before my doors opened for the first time, every tenth-bit of what I have had to deal with -- it is your turn at last! And never let anypony say that I would deprive my sibling of such a gift when the world needed so much time before nudging it to her! It is your turn --"

The heavy wood of the bench was beginning to crack.

"-- and I wish you the joy of it. As much joy as you have brought to me. Enjoy your time in the countryside. I know I shall."

The younger got up from the damaged bench, trotted past a temporarily-frozen elder, heading for the door.

"Luna!" A minor breach of protocol, not using 'Princess' in front of the Guard. Celestia didn't seem to care just now. "You wrote that policy! You came up with the original system! If there's any loophole...!"

"But have you not been wishing for some extra income, sister?" the younger replied, not bothering to glance back. "And now it trots into your throne room. Simply accept your task and keep the promise. Because by my reasoning, that is the best thing you can do for Equestria, and I believe you will reach that conclusion with but a little more thought. So until then, as far as I am personally concerned... Green Acres is the place for thee..."

And still giggling to herself, she trotted out.

Celestia slowly sat back on her hindquarters, closed her eyes, reviewed several hundred rather dusty plans of sibling vengeance, then steadily began to update a likely prospect to include the devices of the modern day.

"...Princess?"

"What is it, Nightwatch?" A touch of strategic clockwork wouldn't hurt either.

The deep black mare took an audible breath, then risked it. "I -- don't understand the problem. Somepony came in with old money and Princess Luna -- doesn't want to help you? I know I'm not your Guard and -- I was there just about every time Princess Luna had trouble come from her Open Palace sessions. At one point, she asked me if I'd ever been checked for jinxing spells. And then she checked me. She's my Princess, but -- I still want to help you. If I can. And you were talking so fast -- I don't really understand what's wrong."

Celestia opened her eyes, stood up and trotted just long enough to reach a decidedly larger bench. A foreleg gestured Nightwatch towards a more standard resting spot. An extra perspective couldn't hurt.

It wouldn't help, either. But at least a lack of extra hurt was just about guaranteed. Humiliation, however...

"Have you ever studied ancient history? The founding of Equestria?"

The mare hesitated. "Not -- not past what everypony knows from school. I remember some of the things about the final fight against Discord --"

Which was, in many ways, the saddest and longest-galloping joke to ever fail at bringing laughter.

"-- but it's been a while, Princess. And history was never my best subject."

Celestia sighed.

"Well..." How to put it? "While the Unification was still going on -- while Princess Luna and I were still trying to unite the various settled zones under a single banner and find a way to convince them that they were better off under our rule than, say, keeping their own conquering armies going..."

"There were armies?"

She forced her eyes to stay open, so as not to see them. "Several. Because after the chaos ended -- there was another kind of chaos: a power vacuum. Discord was gone. A lot of ponies saw it as their opportunity to establish a place at the top, and naturally, that idea was just about everywhere. For the other sapient species -- they were trying to make sense of the new world as much as everypony else was, and some of them used it as a chance not just to consolidate their own territory, but an opportunity to seize new lands." The pegasus' silver eyes were widening. "But that's not the important part, not for this piece of history. A new nation needs a lot of things, Nightwatch. And one of the major aspects is that it needs an economy. For the most part, the Discordian Era operated on a direct barter system of goods and services."

And raids. And seizure from the weak. And conquest.

"That couldn't go on forever," Celestia made herself continue. "We knew we had to issue coinage, and to make whatever other nations arose recognize that coinage. If they didn't accept our money, then we wouldn't have legitimacy, much less any chance at friendly trade. But coins have to lead back to something real for anypony and anyone to trust in them, to believe they have true value. We needed to base our economy on something which the world would grant a little trust in. And ultimately, we decided the most solid foundation for the first pressing of the new money..."

She sighed. Her field lifted the lid of the left saddlebag, extracted a single silver lune, and floated it across to Nightwatch. Rotated the coin so that the edge was directly facing the pegasus, then slowly turned it to let the mare read the tiny writing engraved all along the border.

"Good For Nearly All Princess Labor, Public And Private," Nightwatch read aloud. "You..." Blink. "...you based it on..."

"Ourselves."

It had seemed like such a good idea at the time.

Celestia left the coin where it was, idly made it spin. Wearily, "More realistically, at the true base, it's pony labor which backed the coins -- sols and lunes, that's a lune in front of you now. Everypony's labor, when you get to the heart of it, and that was how it worked within Equestria. But the truest labor we could offer the other nations was our own. The labor which raised and lowered Sun and Moon. The maintenance of the cycle. We offered them tomorrow. So yes, to a large degree, we built our economy on our own backs. And to prove that money had value, that it led to something real -- we tied it to ourselves. You could go out and buy goods and services. Or -- you could come to us, present us with that money, and directly gain our labor."

"Didn't the other nations take advantage? Didn't..." Visibly worried about her own words now. "...did other ponies... there's a lot of things which can be classified as work..."

Celestia shook her head, just a little. "We anticipated that and wrote it into the original laws: the other nations couldn't directly ask us for anything more than the continued movement of Sun and Moon. But at the same time, we wanted our new citizens to know we were there for them. So we carefully excluded a number of things which might be seen as labor -- but for the first Equestrians, yes: they could come directly to us and exchange money for our direct physical and magical efforts on their behalf, within certain limits. However, Princess Luna's idea was that the money would be needed more for -- well, everything money is needed for. And that meant it was likely that we would hardly ever see anypony approaching us..."

The pause was awkward. The memory more so.

"Nightwatch," Celestia made herself continue, "I remember a nation which tried to establish itself during that time, one that didn't even make it through ten years. For some strange reason, they based their economy on -- well, that metal doesn't exist now. And as we offered labor for coins, they said that anyone who was worried about the value of their money could approach the treasury at any time and exchange it for that same value in metal."

"That doesn't sound like a bad idea," Nightwatch cautiously decided. "If the metal had any real value. Like being magical or something that's easy to build with, or it makes a strong alloy --"

"-- it was shiny."

Silence settled onto the remaining benches.

"Shiny?"

"Very," Celestia told her.

Confused, "What -- what kind of value is there in being shiny?"

"I still have no idea." Celestia fought the urge to lower her head between her forehooves, and mostly won. "At any rate, they hit a bump in the road, a hard one, enough for a majority of their citizens to visit the treasury and make the exchange, more secure in shine than coin. And it turned out that the government had been embossing more money than there was metal to cover it. As I understand it, they tried to block the treasury after the first hour. Then their citizens overwhelmed the guards, saw what was left, took all of it, told everyone else there was no more and had barely been any in the first place... and then there was no nation. Just some burning husks of government buildings and former citizens holding useless pieces of shiny metal which no one in any other country would accept as coin."

Nightwatch took several slow breaths, and Celestia watched the mare trying to banish the fire from her mind.

"But Princess Luna's idea worked," she said. "Equestria's still here. Basing the economy on your own labor worked."

"Until the moment we heard about those burning buildings," Celestia told her. "We went out and flew over the remains. And when we got home, we counted -- and realized there were more sols and lunes out there than we had hours to cover them."

Her sister's Guard was not a student of history. She also wasn't stupid, and the sudden catch of breath told Celestia just how intelligent Nightwatch truly was.

"You can see it," Celestia sighed. "That nation put out their money hoping no one would ever truly ask them to keep that promise, not in bulk. And then overextended themselves. The money supply was greater than the base, and so when the promise was called in, the base collapsed. We'd already had a number of problems with our early system. We had to keep revising the laws, barring additional things. And we were losing time here and there, which we needed for building a nation. But we thought it was necessary, to have the world accept us as a trading partner, and keep our citizens believing their coin had true value. And when we realized we'd overextended just as badly, and all it would take was for somepony or someone else to realize that and direct their conquest through creating a situation which would call nearly all of it in... we began to recall the coins, as quickly as we could, while issuing new ones. Coins that would lack that open promise. Princess Luna and I were worried about what that would do to our own economy and our standing in the world, but by then -- by then, we were vital. They..." and she hated the word, always would "...had faith in us. Our ponies saw the foundation standing even after the original coins had been pulled back, the other nations treated Equestria as the bedrock to build their own new lives upon. We'd gotten far enough. We were stable, at least economically."

"How did you get the original coins back?" It was a natural question.

"All sorts of ways. I nearly talked Princess Luna into offering a two-for-one exchange rate, and that got us into inflation..." The embarrassment still hadn't faded. "Well, in the end, it was best to be fairly subtle. We offered a series of new editions, and every time the palace paid out money, it would do so in the most recent pressings, while offering quiet discounts for any who paid the government using the original coins. Any time we got a sol or lune, we kept it. Some ponies started to say we were going to a bit of trouble in getting our embosssed images right if we kept trying pressing after pressing, then they started talking about the new issues as 'look at this bit of work!' And after a few years, that was the name: bit. It never changed again."

A small smile, wistful with memory.

"In the end, we got nearly all of them back," Celestia concluded. "A few survived: even then, there were collectors starting to appear, and I know a few of the early replacement printings are prized. We melted down just about everything we recovered, so nopony could get teeth or field on them -- well, we did retain a small stockpile as personal keepsakes. But we never rescinded the laws. Because the ultimate foundation of our economy is still pony labor and to a large degree, that's the work Princess Luna and I put into every cycle. It's not a perfect system. Griffons say that when I sneeze, Protocera's commodities market catches the flu, and there's some regrettable truth to that." There were times when the fortunes of the world did seem at least partially tied to what the world knew of their health -- and on the extended night of Luna's Return, far too many fearful nations had responded to a delayed Sun by assuming the true worst. Ultimately, the Bearers had worked the miracle just in time to prevent a number of economic collapses. "The new coins just couldn't be used to invoke those laws. And we didn't worry about it because we thought we had some rough idea of what had survived, after every worldwide recovery effort, and it was probably just about enough, all put together, to directly hire one of us for about two hours. We could deal with that. And while Princess Luna was in -- abeyance -- that number came down, because every so often, somepony would truly want a minute of my time. There may be around ninety public minutes left now, and the coins are so rare that just putting thirty of those together would bankrupt nearly every collector. Or there was around ninety minutes..."

"Where did the farmer get the coins?"

"Cleaning out his basement." Celestia had needed some time to get that full story. "His family's been in the same area since Equestria was founded. Not in the same house. But the foundations were pretty much built on top of each other. He was cleaning, he put his hoof down in the wrong spot, and he dropped into the original basement. The coffer was at the back. From what he said... It's a guess, but I think there was a fire, long ago. Some of the rafters buried it. And then they rebuilt on top of the sunken ruin -- and in time, the wood rotted, exposed the coffer... He counted it. He went to the nearest library, which almost sounded like the first time he'd ever gone. I'm not sure he really understood much beyond that he's got eight hours. And he cashed them in today. He called in the promise. I reviewed the old law, Nightwatch. Pasture clearing's a legitimate call-in. I can't buy the coins at the market value and give him that much in bits: he'd break the palace budget for two years, and I'm not sure I made him understand what a numismatist is and how he could get the money to hire just about anypony else through them. It would take a country to give him a payment for the full saddlebag load, and I can't rewrite Equestria's budget for it either. He wants me to clear his pasture and under the law, he has me for eight hours as his hired help..."

Admittedly, the sudden appearance of eight hours on the collector's market would probably bring the value down somewhat. But even so, the math mounted up to the ceiling above them, and invisible purchased seconds pressed against her fur.

Her head was just barely above her legs now.

And the words nearly drove it the rest of the way down. "So why don't you just do it?"

Celestia stared at the young Guard -- a mare who suddenly found her bench very uncomfortable.

"Just do it." A toneless repetition, made to emphasize the stupidity.

"Well," Nightwatch shakily forced herself to continue, feathers now starting to rustle as armor jangled lightly against her body, "from what you were saying... it feels like the important thing is to get that money out of circulation. Right? Because even eight hours in the wrong teeth could do some damage. So take the payment. You can melt down the coins after." Talking faster now. "Because if you don't, then he might try to use them for hiring somepony else, who could just take them, spend them because they're still Equestrian money, some merchant somewhere could accept them, and then that money's out in the world again." Faster still. "Minutes winding up who knows where, being called in for anything that's still legal. Do the work, and you know where it all is. In the forge. I --"

She stopped, gasped for the breath she so desperately needed.

"-- think it's the best thing," the Guard finally concluded. "For everypony. So -- why not... just -- do it?"

The royal stare kept right on coming.

"...Princess?"

I don't want to.

Not clearing a pasture.

He could have cashed in for so many things under Sun, and it's clearing a pasture.

Tartarus chain it...

"Princess Luna speaks very highly of you," Celestia told the Guard.

"...she does?"

And in fact, Luna did. Celestia just wasn't entirely sure why.

"I'm going to bed, Nightwatch," Celestia said, and slowly pushed herself off the bench. "Thank you for the talk." And trotted away.

The next morning's headlines were as she'd expected. One paper praised her for dedicating herself to helping those in need, somehow managing to leave just about all of the facts about payment out: Raque had no doubt felt invoking money would make the palace look bad. The other article snorted about Dictatresses who attempted to pick and choose exactly which of her laws she would be subject to -- again -- which suggested Wordia had done a rare piece of actual research. This was then unfortunately confirmed by the printing of what that reporter had been able to learn (and distort) about the coins before the paper had gone to press, and Celestia knew it was more than enough to set off a frenzy of dumped-out jars and desperate attic scavengings. Given that those hunts would be conducted by Tattler readers and thus mostly consisted of the so-called Loyal Opposition (plus a few who were just keeping a wary eye on them), she wished them the worst of luck.

Celestia took a moment, fieldwrote a future educated guess onto a scrap of paper, then sealed that in an envelope for later and went to the Solar Courtyard for a rather sudden press conference, because after reading the articles and putting together what they could of actual events, the rest of the press had decided it really wanted to hear from her. And her first planned moves as she strode up to her speaking platform were a practiced shrug and rueful smile.

"Well," she told the gathered journalists, most looking to create their very own dose of slightly belated sensationalism, "I don't suppose anypony has a train schedule for Saddlezania?"

She stared out at the pasture. The perfectly clear pasture.

"It ain't that one," Sour Cream told her. "Yours is over that way. Just trot a while. Straight ahead. Can't miss it."

Celestia nodded.

Behind her, Wordia was giggling again, and several other reporters were starting to follow suit. Not everypony who worked for a newspaper had followed her out this far -- but enough had, and they had arranged themselves in a thin line behind farmer and hired help, standing on the border of the property. Their weapons were at the ready, and every last one of those striking implements had been freshly inked.

"Eight hours," the farmer said. "If you finish faster, I've got some other stuff you can do. Got an old basement which needs cleaning. And a bathroom. Bathroom needs a lot. So just come to the house."

Giggling was turning into laughter again.

"All right," Celestia said. "Start the clock." She trotted forward.

"Clock starts when the work starts."

Definitely laughter now.

"As you wish," Celestia stated, and began to trot again.

Two dozen reporters had just enough time to take a single hoofstep.

"Mr. Cream?" They froze. "What's your policy on trespassing?"

He thought about that for a while. "I don't like it."

"And they don't work for you."

More time. "No. They don't."

"So -- would you call them trespassers?"

Eventually, "Yeah. Don't want trespassers."

"Well, then," and had to fight off the smile. "As your employee..."

Her horn ignited. And then the laughter was gone, replaced by the sweet sounds of distorted screaming added to Wordia's hooves pounding on a fast-forming shield, hooves which didn't have the strength to break through before it hardened several seconds later.

"No trespassers," Celestia noted.

"Yeah," Sour Cream eventually said. "Nice work. Go do some more." Nodded in the appropriate direction. Celestia continued moving, and it took a moment to realize she was traveling alone.

"You're not coming?"

He squinted at her. "It's your work." And walked away.

It was a beautiful sunny day. It wasn't supposed to be, but Celestia had taken one look at the regional weather schedule and gone to the Bureau with a direct override. It was bad enough that she was clearing a pasture: she didn't have to do it through intermittent thunderstorms.

The sky was blue, or at least the blue which existed through the distortion of her shield. She spent some time looking at that as she trotted, because she was on her way to clear the pasture

clear a pasture

and it was absolutely necessary to keep at least one eye checking above her at all times, because she didn't have another pony on lookout. Because there was nopony around whose sole job it was to watch the sky, watching for the inevitable moment when that so-rare blue started to twist into something else.

That was the expected result, of course. It always happened, given enough time. There were rarer things to watch for, and many of those also came from above. Raids came from above. But for the most part... it was the sky, and the color, and the shout of alarm as His hues began to assert their claim over the world again.

There has to be shelter. Somewhere close. We need shelter. What kind of idiot doesn't put up a shelter within easy gallop of a --

She stopped.

I am here. This is now.

One by day, one by night. One by night, one by day...

She stood perfectly still, mane shifting from something other than the gentle breeze she'd told them to include, repeated the mantra until focus returned. Until now was all she could see, or at least all she would admit to seeing.

Clearing a pasture. Of all the possible --

"-- and here she is, slacking off. I did not know you had it in you, sister, to take part in that which you so often accused me of. On the clock, keeping the promise through doing nothing."

Celestia didn't have to look up. It normally would have made her happy, hearing Luna's giggle overhead. Today, it was just one more thing that made it harder to stay in the now. And besides, if that was what her sister was going after her with, Celestia had a few hoof impact-equivalent words of her own.

"Did you bring a book?"

The sound of wing flaps. Hovering. No words, not for several long breaths.

"...no."

"Because you nearly got us killed that one time. You brought a book. You looked at the book." The book which Luna had then hidden over and over, in fears that a moment of known distraction would lead to destruction. "And that was just the time I caught you. I'm pretty sure there were at least three others when your ears picked up on things first. You never did stop wearing your saddlebags out to the pasture, and I know I saw some suspicious bulges at the bottom --"

"-- and is this why you wished for a loophole?"

Luna's voice could be very loud at times. Also... quiet. As quiet as Moon slipping through the sky.

The wingbeats changed. Coming in for a landing.

"You remember, yes," Luna quietly continued. "And now, once again, there are two who remember. I remember the pasture, Tia. This sky will stay blue."

Standing next to her now, on the left. Waiting.

Celestia breathed, as steadily as she could.

I am here. This is now.

She looked down at her sibling, who had apparently packed a lunch: she was wearing saddlebags in the pegasus style, carefully mounted so as not to interfere with flight. "Why did you come here? I'm going to be under Sun all day. These aren't your hours, and you haven't been here since the Return, so you don't have a teleport site --"

She heard the smile. "I had one of my Guards escort me. Your shield was not yet complete, and as for your personally trying to cover large areas... well, it was easy to slip in through the top before the dome closed: it is most solid towards the base in any case, with no pegasi among the horde. Yes, this much time under Sun will be... uncomfortable, especially as the hours advance. And I will lose sleep. But I was not willing to miss the humor of it. That we have come so far, and yet... here we are again. Perhaps for the last time, unless you should become oddly nostalgic, or another stockpile of sols and lunes is unearthed -- incidentally, I am formulating a plan which may assist in preparing for that. But here we are again. Under a blue sky."

The younger looked up at the elder, who needed a moment to return it. "We?"

"I saw sols and lunes in that stockpile. So technically about four hours each, although I doubt we will be able to make Mr. Cream see it that way. Still -- it would go faster with two, here and there." Openly teasing, "Although since the presentation was made to you, under the law, all I have to do is watch. And make comments if I so wish, mostly about how out of practice you are."

Celestia didn't glare at her. Barely.

"So let's go."

And the sooner we get back, the sooner the fire might be lit, and we could have --

-- I am here. This is now.

The siblings trotted out to take their shift. And every so often, Celestia glanced down at Luna, and caught the younger looking at the sky.

Celestia stared out at what had to be the pasture in question, seeing the necessary clearing for the first time. And as she tried to figure out why nopony had been willing to do that work, why the farmer had come to her... well, it was going to reach her voice. "I don't get it."

Luna frowned. "Nor do I..."

Celestia had been expecting a new pasture. The farmer attempting to expand the amount of his land he was working, even when he shouldn't be putting in so much effort at his age. Something strewn with boulders, with more than a few trees in need of removal and perhaps some long, low planes of stone just sticking out of the earth, where the mini-plateaus took up space which could otherwise be occupied by soil. But this pasture featured gentle grass moving in the delivered-on-time breeze (somewhat stifled by the distant shield). The vast majority of the earth could be made out through the green. From everything Celestia could see, it was a pasture that had seen some expert use. The only potential issue was some rocks.

And they weren't even big rocks. Grey double hoof-height half-domes with oddly textured surfaces, as if wind and water had cut across the minerals in rough scallops. At least two hundred of them, spread all over the pasture.

That looks... familiar. That almost looks like --

-- I am here. This is now.

If there was a memory, she didn't want it. She would not send herself back there again.

Luna's expression suggested something similar might be happening. "Was this a prank upon him? Somepony added these to a cleared pasture, in the name of creating extra work?"

"He doesn't like trespassers," Celestia conceded. "Maybe that's why. But he doesn't talk much. I tried talking to him a few times before the trip. I've had better discussions with Philomena. I heard Pinkie having a more insightful conversation with Gummy. He wants his pasture cleared. It's all he cares about, and it's all he'd say."

They were alone. Isolated under the shield, with only Sun and sky for company. And so Luna sighed. "He could have done this himself. Easily."

Celestia nodded. "Unless he's got the weakest field in the world -- well, I guess that's possible." It wouldn't have been age: ponies didn't lose their magic with advancing years, although a few might have more trouble with the finer aspects of control. "But it's just a bunch of rocks. I thought it might at least be something big enough that he'd have trouble by himself, but -- this?"

Luna shrugged. "He is -- perhaps not all he once was, in the mind. And --" her eyes briefly closed. "-- that is not something I wish to think about at this time. Not while working in a pasture. Let us simply complete this task and then see what else he has for us to do. I am estimating -- something under a minute?"

The elder smiled. "Together?"

"Actually -- no," Luna considered. "You. Let me feel you at work. It has been -- it is something I would like to feel again."

The smile strengthened. "All right. Let's see if I can get them all at once."

She took a slow breath, sent her senses down inside herself, out through her hooves and into the earth, radiating towards at least two hundred rocks which were --

-- not there.

Celestia blinked.

"...something's wrong."

Luna immediately stared up at her. With open concern, "Sister?"

"I can't feel them."

Going beyond concern now, talking far too quickly. "Perhaps you are simply out of practice. Phrase your question differently, be somewhat more polite, and --"

"-- no, I can feel the earth. And I can feel the pressure against the soil, from the weight of the rocks. I just can't feel the rocks. Not as rocks. They're just -- pressure." She began to trot forward, towards the closest mound. Could she be that out of practice? Or -- no, there was nothing wrong with her, she was sure of that. But to not pick up on a rock?

Behind her, out of sight, Luna was starting to frown. "A rock which cannot be felt..."

"Maybe that's why he couldn't deal with them?" Celestia called back, still closing in on her new target. "This might have been worth the bits for more than just getting them out of circulation, Luna. If we have a rock we can't feel..." And now she was frowning more than a little herself. "But he still could have done this himself. Even if he couldn't feel them, he could have just opened the earth beneath each and dropped them below plow blade level." Which was what she was going to do -- after she solved this mystery, or at least got a sample to take back with them. Three body lengths away, and she still couldn't feel the mound.

"That -- that sounds like -- but no, they are gone, they -- they are supposed to be --"

Right on top of it now. She could see it, the patterns of the scalloping. But to her feel, it wasn't there. And there was no residue of unicorn magic present, no signature to read from ongoing illusion...

Still, it was best to check. Celestia's left forehoof edged forward. A nudge would prove solidity.

"-- TIA! DON'T!"

She nudged it.

The rock rose from the grass in a whir of unflocking wings. The furious head came out from under the sheltering limb, eyes of obsidian glared at the elder in fury as at least two hundred more explosions took place in the grass, gravelly screeches of fury broke the air and the closest beak, harder than granite, swooped forward with its owner and went directly for Celestia's right eye --

-- a lance of dark energy shot past her, knocked the creature aside. It gave the others that much more room to close in.

And Celestia, working in a pasture, did what her instincts ordered. She turned and bolted for shelter. It took mere heartbeats to get back to her sibling and then they were both on the gallop, trying to find anywhere they could hide, as more than two hundred angry false rocks chased the intruders out of the chosen breeding ground.

"Rock doves!" Celestia found the breath to shout. "He's got rock doves!"

"They were supposed to be extinct!" Luna protested.

"It wasn't for lack of trying!"

They were fleeing, they were moving faster than any other pony could travel on hoof, but the mockeries of birds could fly for short, surprisingly-fast bursts, the flock seemed to be closing in and there was no cave, no hole to hide in, nopony had built a shelter and --

"-- we need a shield!" Luna screamed. "Why are you not raising a shield?"

Because we're in a pasture and there's rock doves and --

She was here. This was now. And reason returned.

"I'm maintaining the border one! I can't drop that! Why aren't you?"

The gallop never slowed, and so the derailment was only mental. "I -- why am I -- to me! Close! And be ready to stop!"

Because the shield had to be anchored, and so couldn't be made mobile. "Luna, do we have time? As soon as we stop, they're going to close in, and you have to harden it." Every breath used for speech was one not used for running: they were losing ground. "We'll have seconds!"

"Trust me!"

Celestia angled herself, turned the quarter of a body length gap between them into something closer to an eighth. Both slowed, braked as hard as they could without falling over, Luna's horn ignited, the corona flashed --

-- near-mineral bodies pelted against dark energy. The one moving the fastest had its beak penetrate before the shield completely hardened, the head snapped at Luna's right wing, and Celestia took great pleasure in the spinning kick which drove the rock dove into the dirt.

They huddled next to each other under the dome, listening to the futile impacts: rock doves had trouble figuring out when to quit. But after a time, it stopped, and the flock retreated to the breeding grounds. The nests had to be made ready, after all.

Luna, however, didn't drop the shield. Not just yet. It was best to be cautious.

Eventually, Celestia glanced at her sister, pressed so tight against her, and said the words. "Why didn't you fly?"

"Why did you not? We both know they cannot ascend very high. And I would not have flown unless you did. We had to stay together."

Why didn't I --

For the same reason she had not thought of a shield.

"Because... we were working in a pasture," Celestia softly said. "Still working in a pasture. Still trying to make sure my sister isn't reading a book when she should be watching the sky. Still..."

Luna sighed.

"We are here," she quietly said. "This is now."

Celestia nodded, and pressed still more tightly against the younger. Feathers intermeshed, and there was a portion of additional pressure.

"At least two hundred," Celestia sighed. "That is a lot of targets to surround at once if they start moving again, even with our field dexterity. But if we wait for them to curl up again, then split the flock between us..."

"That is manageable," Luna nodded agreement. "But where can we move them? They have chosen their breeding ground. I did not see the shale eggs or anything close to a completed nest. But having chosen, they will return here, as long as they are close enough for their senses to home in."

Celestia thought about it. "There's a deserted island off the west coast. It's in the right climate zone, and we both know they won't try to cross the ocean." Rock doves were too heavy to fly for long, and when they touched down on water, they sank. "We'll keep them there while we think of something else."

"Agreed."

"Luna?"

"Yes?"

"You're right up against me. And so is that one saddlebag."

A little too quickly, accompanied by the first hint of an attempt to shift away, "Well, if it is extra room you require --"

"-- I can feel the book."

She glanced at the Tattler shortly after sunrise, and only opened the envelope as a formality. She'd easily guessed Wordia's lead subject, although her forecast wording had been off. The actual headline had been No-Priorities Princess Wastes Government Time Indulging Idiot Subject. Celestia was going to need a major breakfast before she could face any attempt to see what Raque had done.

They'd had a long talk with Sour Cream after reaching his house, for all the good that had accomplished. For the most part, they'd had a long talk at him, because all he'd really done was tell them that he'd seen something in his pasture, he shouldn't have to be the one who dealt with it, and every time he'd tried to get somepony else clearing it, the last he'd seen of them was the desperate gallop past his house. So he'd gone to the palace, and was the pasture clear yet? And rock doves? What were those?

They eventually got the failed worker count out of him and, while on their lunch break (Luna had packed arugula), they'd managed to leave just long enough to reach the nearby town and verify that the quantity hired exactly matched the number of beak-shocked survivors, who'd eventually scared all the other prospects out of approaching the pasture. But they were all okay, if still somewhat shaken. After all, nopony else had managed to trigger the whole flock by doing something so stupid as touching one.

And then they'd cleaned the basement, followed by doing the same for the main residence, each had done some painting that was no more than three centuries overdue, he'd wanted his hedges trimmed, and eventually, they'd reached the bathroom...

Celestia instinctively shuddered, then glanced at the clock. She had to hurry.

Two conversations officially started the soon-to-be-ruined day, and both were short.

"Princess?" Nervously, "I was just going off-shift." As evidenced by Nightwatch's lack of armor. "But if there's something you need --"

"Here," Celestia simply said, and sent the bag floating forward. "That's for you. For -- services rendered to the thrones."

The pegasus looked exquisitely confused, and none of that cleared up when Celestia released her field, allowing the cloth edges to sag down as the bag rested on the marble floor. Early-morning Sun streamed through a nearby window, reflected off gold and silver.

"...what?" It was all Nightwatch said, and that was after some twenty seconds of trying to find something she could say at all.

"It's thirty minutes," Celestia told her. "For you, or to whoever you might pass it on to. Time repaid, and -- time you can exchange these for, whenever you need to, or when your children need it. No matter when it happens, that promise will be kept."

"But... I -- what did I...?"

"I trust you with it," Celestia smiled. She would have said more, but that was when Celestia realized that her next words just might lead to extremely justified sibling accusations of staff filching, and so she simply trotted to her second meeting.

She did not dare to knock on the door which led to the little balcony: concentration should not be interrupted. But eventually, Luna came back into the palace on her own.

"Well," her sister yawned, "the news is... mixed. By using the advances in magic which came during abeyance, I believe I was able to adapt the metal detection spell. But with differentiation, anything truly buried or fully enclosed will remain hidden from us: I was not able to find any of the coins which we know reside within numismatist safes. And I was only able to cover a portion of Equestria without risking exhaustion. So this will have to be repeated from new central locations, and soon. After I recover." Which mostly meant that the younger had to get some sleep. Perhaps a lot of sleep.

Celestia nodded. "Did you find anything?"

A slow, reluctant nod came back. "Unfortunately, yes. It was difficult to accurately judge from such a distance, but my best estimate for the total weight of the metal -- assuming a near-equal mix of sols and lunes, we would be dealing with a pony who has a potential claim to about an hour of our time. Let us go to a map before I take to my bed. I need to attempt some degree of narrowing for the overall area."

The elder agreed, and they began making their way towards a reading room, in search of the closest atlas.

"I've been thinking about a new pressing for the money," Celestia said as they went down the final hallway.

"Truly?" came the yawn.

"Well -- it's been nearly three years now. It's about time your image went on the bits again, don't you think? And some silver will do nicely to break up all the gold."

"That sounds... nice," Luna yawned again. "But no new edge engravings. Or old."

"No kidding." Celestia wasn't sure there was enough in the mint's budget for that level of detail work anyway, especially as she'd just diverted a percentage of those funds to the widely-scattered Cream family. Little by little, year after year, until the collector's value of the sols and lunes was finally paid off.

They reached the room, took down an atlas. Luna spent some time flipping through the pages, trying to transfer the sensory impressions from the magic onto a map.

"Here," she finally said, her field's glow indicating a small spot. "I am almost certain this is where it was. What is in that area? There is no major settled zone nearby, and that is poor land for a pony to be inhabiting. In fact, if this map key reads true, it looks as if it would be suitable for nothing -- well, nothing other than --"

Celestia's groan cut her off.

"That's a rock farm," the elder wearily said.

"Yes," a confused Luna responded. "I was about to say that was all the land seemed suited for. Sister, is there some reason for your rather visible distress?"

"That -- is Igneous Pie's rock farm."

They both stared at the map for a while.

"I," Luna finally announced, "am going to bed. Good day, sister."

Celestia sighed.

And I, the elder wearily thought, am going to go find a shovel.

Just in case.