Whispers

Ignorance is bliss.

'What you don't know won't hurt you.' 'Better not to know, than to know and worry yourself to death.' 'Some things are better left alone.' Old addages with which Arcanus was quite familiar. To him, the idea was the biggest load of crap since the famous conspiracy theory claiming Celestia and Luna were the same pony pulling some kind of elaborate double duty to mask the autocracy as an oligarchy made the rounds.

Point being, Arcanus detested the wilful blindness the phrase encouraged. As far as he was concerned, it represented laziness and stagnation. Worse yet, it directly clashed with his own academic motto, which read something along the lines of: "knowledge is power, and the pursuit of knowledge is never a mistake - even if the lesson you learn is to never use that knowledge."

This ideal had only ever been challenged twice in his life. The first time was the Nightmare Moon incident, where he learned an important qualifier: knowledge came in flavours, and some were poisonous. Over time he had rationalized that away, though. After all, a brand of magic was morally neutral, just like any other tool. What mattered was who used it, and the motive of its user.

The second time..? Right now. For reasons he had yet to fathom, the favourite student of Princess Celestia had been invited to attend the next sun court gathering. As dedicated a reader as Arcanus was, his reading regime consisted mostly of what the princess told him to, with the occasional personal interest topic on the side. There were huge gaps in his overall knowledge of the world, and while the royal archives represented the bookworm's equivalent of heaven, he'd need a dozen lifetimes to even take a bite out of the secrets it held.

So, he'd come to accept that there would be things he would go to his grave not knowing. The sun court and its 'wondrous mysteries' would be one of those things. Since he was old enough to even understand the caste system, he'd given the topic the occasional thought, but those thoughts were always fleeting. He knew it was a congregation of the land's wealthiest figures to deliberate and vote on the kingdom's overall well-being. Why did the details matter? His family would never hold a station worthy of court representation, so it was out of his hooves.

This was to be a woefully underwhelming learning experience, though.

"With all due respect to her highness and the sanctity of this court, I fail to see what more we need discuss," declared outspoken magnate Golden Silver, a pegasus stallion of small stature with a fittingly overblown ego to match. He looked to his contemporaries, most of whom were mumbling incoherently and nodding their approval, assuring him that his side of things was the right one. "It is clear to me that the lower orders have come to learn the value of strength in numbers, and seek to bully us into conceding whatever demands they see fit to make. This situation need only persist if we allow it."

On the other side of the massive hall, the earth pony mare known as Ruby Slipper mulled over that fascist drivel with a patronizing smirk, confidently ignoring the misguided cheering in her opponent's favour. Even as all eyes were upon her for a rebuttal, she merely sipped her tea in silence, taking her sweet time until she was ready to respond.

Golden Silver had become her unofficial nemesis the moment this ordeal began, for he represented exactly the kind of young, hot-headed elitism she had always despised. To the older mare, reading the boy was easy; he had all the literary depth of a yearling's picture novel. Childhood most likely loaded with luxury. Given everything from toys, to books, to servants, without any expectation of effort or appreciation in return. Too much authority for one so young, especially without proper instruction in how to use it acceptably; he probably kicked those servants' kids around, some of whom could have been twice his age, without any fear of repercussion.

The best part? His father's recent passing had left the boy heir to a respectable family estate, sizable wealth and, possibly the most valuable of all, a seat at court. Unfortunately, he had also inherited his father's ongoing feud with the infamous philanthropist Ruby Slipper. Thus, the fatal flaw came to light - his education consisted mainly of repeating his father's racist bigotry and intolerance for any caste below his own.

As a politician, the boy was laughably ill-prepared to debate on equal terms with the more experienced courtiers, and curse his luck, Ruby Slipper was exceptionally obstinate, conniving and relentless - a fact she was more than happy to exploit in this instance.

"Yes, thou soundest very similar to thy late father," she muttered, knowing full well that the voice amplification spell would broadcast her quip for all to hear. Not that she cared. "Thou wouldst make the lower orders the enemy on a whim. Without a second thought. Why? Because they have the nerve to have a voice? Because they band together for mutual support as they starve for the aristocracy's indifference... for thine indifference?"

"Art thou suggesting they starve because we are so bold as to expect them to work for a living, as opposed to simply giving them whatever they want?" Golden Silver sniped back, pointing accusingly at the subject of his ire. Ruby Slipper never had to try very hard to get under his skin. Worse yet, the smile she was giving in return didn't exactly imply she was denying his accusation, and that only infuriated him further. "... Am I reading this correctly? Art thou such a hypocrite as to criticize myself and our contemporaries for our wealth, which we choose to use at our discretion? Thou possess as much wealth as any of us-"

"Big difference, boy." Ruby Slipper pondered her fruit bowl for a moment, before plucking a strawberry and spinning it in honey. Before anyone had a chance to question her disrespectful address, she continued, "I do not roll in my wealth like a shameless pig. The majority of mine is devoted to supporting those struggling in times of economic drought. I work the fields personally, assisting those to whom I feel a shred of empathy. I ensure disadvantaged foals have an opportunity to afford strong education, with which they may pull their families from poverty. Now, when was the last time thou spent a bit on anypony besides thyself?"

In his anger, Golden Silver retained enough common sense to resist the urge to comment on their clothing. That would backfire in a storm of equal parts hilarity and embarassment. The old mare was wearing what appeared to be a dress of humble, featureless charmeuse devoid of the usual adornments one would expect of an upper class mare. On the other hand, he was wearing a tailored suit and mantle, both of which practically overflowed with such pretentious compensations as gold threading and diamond-imbued buttons.

"I reiterate my point," he said to evade the smug mare's question, proving he had at least some understanding of the basics of politics. "Do they not starve for their own shortcomings?"

"Thou hast no understanding of what goes on beyond the walls of Canterlot," said Ruby Slipper, intentionally letting her tone betray a hint of spite as she made a point of looking around the room. "The majority of you do not. 'Their own shortcomings?'" She held a foreleg out, displaying a series of faded cuts, bruises and grazes - tell-tale signs of a battered, well-exercised limb. "Work a day in the fields thyself, Golden Silver. Then, if thou canst even still walk, or breathe, tell me about shortcomings. It's disgusting how you all look down on the lower orders, as though they're not the ones truly responsible for keeping our status afloat."

Golden Silver regarded the limb with moderate disgust, twisting his features into an exaggerated expression of contempt at one who should be his social equal or better lowering herself to such a level. What really irked him though was the foreign assertion that his wealth wasn't an inherent birthright; as though someone else's work was responsible for it. "With due respect, Ms Slipper-"

"Delaying tactics," she cut those empty words off. "Thou hast no respect for me, nor I for thee. Make thy point."

"Whose side art thou on?" Golden Silver finally snapped.

Silence befell the room, daring someone to break the ensuing stalemate. Golden Silver and Ruby Slipper alike kept eye contact, letting their expressions battle it out while their minds attempted to formulate their next words. Meanwhile, Arcanus resisted the urge to slam his head against the table. Not that it would have worked, as he was sitting on a cushion. He gazed slowly around the room, gauging everyone's expressions and realising that, to his dismay, Golden Silver had a sizable 'fanbase.'

As large as it was, the layout of the ovalular courtroom was actually rather simplistic. Two rows of regal red cushions arranged in a concave formation - numbering roughly 120 by Arcanus's count - ran parallel to the chamber's east and west walls, with thin aisles separating them at the north and south ends lest they join to form complete a circle. According to the texts, this was known as the Magnate Tier, and a seat here was considered the first step to earning the monarch's favour; families tended to shuffle in and out of these positions over decades by subduing or assimilating each other, and the like.

Just south of the room's epicenter sat a smaller semicircle of a mere twelve seats, similarly parallel to the southern wall as though it were the mouth of a giant smiley face. These seats were all adorned with highly distinctive family crests and emblems, constituting the High Magnate Tier. These seats were held only by the most influential collection of families in the kingdom, often having a rich history going back centuries to their names. In fact, the princesses themselves were often intimately familiar with these families, as they had ennobled most of their ancestors personally.

The sad reality was that despite the court's respectable diversity, many of its courtiers had let decades of wealth and taste go to their heads. Such were the flaws of a hereditary caste system. Personally, Arcanus had no trouble agreeing with Ruby Slipper, for it was hard not to. Her angle was more than just sympathetic; it was actually believable. Unlike Golden Silver, she didn't come across as a caricature for strawman politics, or the posterchild for elitist bigotry.

Regardless, his own feelings aside, both parties behaved disgracefully in Arcanus's modest eyes. He'd done the smallest amount of study on the subject of politics after learning he would be attending court, and he was familiar with the base nature of voting and civil discourse. The book said nothing about self-absorbed aristocrats, in whose hooves rested the future of Equestria, shouting at each other like impetuous foals fighting over the last cupcake though.

To make matters worse, the princess was making no move to stop them; even as taunts and insults had flown about the room like tipsy, one-winged pegasi, she merely paced back and forth with her eyes closed solemnly - taking it all in.

It was a sad truth to swallow. The mules around him were running his kingdom - possibly into the ground. Ignorance is bliss.

"The sidelines," Ruby Slipper whispered remorsefully, finally breaking the tense silence. "Bemoaning the fact we have reduced this scenario to 'sides' in the first place."

Golden Silver sighed. "Allow me to get this straight, Ruby Slipper." The mare nodded, indicating she would listen. "The peasantry work the land graciously provided to them by the kingdom, with the reasonable expectation of tribute in return..."

He paused waiting for the mare to impulsively interrupt him. Never came.

"... Yet, when they fail to honour their obligation, they see fit to band together and threaten rebellion..."

Again, he paused, confident that at this point Ruby Slipper or someone else would surely cut him off. Still nothing.

"... And, correct me if I'm wrong, but thou seemest strangely... at peace with the prospect of rebellion at the hooves of a movement that believes bullying and blackmail are valid negotiatory tactics. Almost as if thou dost... condone it. Am I right so far?"

Rebellion, Arcanus repeated the word in his mind. Several times. Since when was there a threat of rebellion? Sure, it was common knowledge by this time that the masses had become disillusioned with the way tax and tribute were handled. There was also much speculation as to why the outcry had become noticably worse around the time Princess Luna was banished. But... rebellion? Since when?

Ruby Slipper smiled again, and went to work dismantling Golden Silver's statement. "Thine insecurities merely confirm my fears, Lord Silver," she stated in a dulled tone, letting her actual age and the wisdom it carried show, not to mention addressing him by his title to enhance the formality and weight of her declaration. "We have grown complacent from years of sanctuary. Our sheltered social stature has been a given to those of noble blood for hundreds of years, to the point we have forgotten why the classes were defined in the first place." She closed her eyes. "... A revolution is both inevitable and necessary to prevent cultural stagnation, and this may just be the wakeup call we all need."

This was moving entirely too fast for Arcanus's liking, and disconcertingly, the princess still didn't seem to have anything to say. However, before the room could devolve into nervous chatter on the heels of Ruby Slipper's controversial outburst, a new voice entered the fray.

A voice that carried infinitely more weight than hers.

"Actually, Lord Silver and Lady Slipper," the voice came from the epicenter of the room, a small five-step marble pyramid formation known as the Royal Tier, upon which only civil and military advisors, personal guests, and of course the monarchs themselves may sit. All eyes were instantly upon the speaker; even Golden Silver and Ruby Slipper put aside their squabble in unison. As a personal guest, Arcanus needed only look to his immediate right to achieve the same effect. "The outer villages are assembling a separatist coalition. They threaten secession, not rebellion. Understand that this crisis goes well beyond your petty scrap, so please cease slinging foalish 'my daddy's richer than yours' volleys at each other and try to focus."

"Apologies, Lord-General," Ruby Slipper spoke up first with a submissive bow. "We allowed our personal grievances to carry our words from the topic at hoof."

"Y-yes, Your Grace," Golden Silver added, looking as though he could descend into a nervous breakdown.

Arcanus's prior knowledge of the Duke of Canterlot wasn't exactly comprehensive. It was no surprise that young Golden Silver looked ready to soil himself, but the way even Ruby Slipper seemed to shirk her refined composure and regress to self-conscious foalhood under his ire spoke volumes.

Ixion was unnaturally large for a unicorn, built like the toughest earth pony farmhand around. He sported a dirty, rust-like bronze coat and a scruffy white mane that draped itself listlessly over his neck. His thick hooves each bore a prominent band forged from a sickly grayish-white metal Arcanus couldn't identify. His icy blue eyes shone with just enough life to convince you he wasn't a walking corpse, while his unnervingly restrained voice hinted at a deceptively vicious animal beneath - merely waiting for the slightest provocation. Most interesting of all in Arcanus's eyes was his ominous cutie mark - three radiant white stars hacked and slashed into pieces - strategically exposed by his deep blue armor plating.

Needless to say, Arcanus did not envy those unfortunate enough to hold the Lord-General's ire.

"Ixion, please allow these ponies to continue," said Celestia, apparently having heard enough. "I fear the underlying motive behind these threats is very much linked to the class imbalances that have arisen in recent years. Golden Silver and Ruby Slipper appear to have a strong understanding of the issue."

"If I may, highness," Ixion countered, leaving his seat and walking out to meet the princess atop the giant emblem of the sun that covered the floor. "Their motive is not a matter of economic dissatisfaction at all. Greed, sloth, laziness - none of them factor into this. As you will recall, I dispatched my lieutenant Belphegor and a half-dozen of my soldiers last month to investigate... the claims."

Celestia's eyes narrowed, though not in hostility. Arcanus figured this was news she had been eagerly anticipating. "And what did they find?"

"It is as we feared, highness. A band of marauders has been harassing, and sometimes outright raiding, the outer villages. This separatist movement is just as much an act of self-defence as it is one of leverage. I believe our inability to contain these bandits has contributed heavily to a loss of public opinion. This crisis began mere months ago with two villages, yet it has since grown to seven."

"They blame us for not being there to hold their hooves?" Golden Silver remarked, momentarily forgetting to whom he was talking. Technically, court law permitted him the right to speak his mind; 'all may speak freely, for all are equal beneath the sun.' But that didn't necessarily make talking to Ixion an easy task. "... Have they forgotten that we are on the brink of war with the jackal clans?"

Arcanus raised an eyebrow. Not at the possibility of war with the southeastern scavengers, but with the fact it was old news. For decades, since well before his birth, the kingdom had been "on the brink of war" with this non-existent threat. The simple truth was that for all their ferocity as warriors and underhanded cunning as raiders, the scattered jackals had nownere near the manpower to threaten Equestria's military.

Plus, that said nothing of the cataclysm the princesses- princess, could personally bring down upon them if push came to shove.

"All the more reason for them to seek our aid in a time of crisis, Golden Silver," Ruby Slipper added with a deep sigh, as the scope of the situation was expanding with every passing moment. "In the event of invasion, softer targets such as outlying farming villages are the first to fall. I don't need to remind anypony here what would happen if we lost our primary production - our food - in the prelude to war."

"That is why we must do something!"

Ruby Slipper rolled her eyes at the naivety of this boy. "Do what, exactly? Let the military roll in there and force them to bow? That would be just the push they need to abandon us forever. The seeds of rebellion flourish beneath the hoof of a fascist government. Forget losing our primary production; what thou suggest would push this matter beyond civil disobedience into outright civil war."

"And just allowing seven villages to secede, leaving us wide open to a jackal invasion is any better?"

"Answer me this," Ruby Slipper snapped. "In light of these developments, what wouldst thou consider a liklier contingency? On one hoof, the villages are forced to risk their lives defending a kingdom they've lost faith in. On the other, they merely stand aside and allow the jackals to pick us clean as a sort of twisted vindication-"

"Thou suggest treason?"

"Enough!" Ixion said, putting an ever so slight emphasis on the word for an effect anyone else would have to shout to achieve. "You two conduct yourselves disgracefully, submitting to your petty squabbles and competitive impulses at court. The big picture is wasted on you." He turned to face the princess, his next words open to all but obviously meant for her. "We are distracted by smokescreens, highness. The jackals, the bandits, all irrelevant. The underlying sentiment here runs far deeper than petty distractions, and plays upon the fragile emotions of a disgruntled working class. I fear it is not so easily neutralized."

"What is their true cause?" Ruby Slipper asked, sincerely baffled by what could have alienated the outlying villages more than unreasonable taxing or a lack of support in what could potentially turn to war time.

"A rumour hath made its way around the kingdom in recent times, with which I am sure many of us are familiar. It is a well-known fact that subsistence farmers are very much reliant on the night to compensate for growing workloads and tax inflation. Their respect and dedication to the late Princess Luna is undeniable, even while unapparent."

Celestia narrowed her eyes, taking on a grim expression that was otherwise unreadable. "Thou speakest of what rumour, Ixion?" Her tone betrayed neither hostility nor warmth; simply a bitter foreknowledge of her fleeting question's impending answer.

"Highness, I will not mince words," Ixion whispered, taking on an almost melancholic tone as he looked to the floor. "There are... whispers pertaining to Princess Luna's absence. Whispers that paint the circumstances behind her disappearance in a new light."

The air came out of pretty much everyone's lungs, Arcanus's in particular. Celestia closed the distance between herself and the Lord-General at a slow, calculated pace, letting the charged silence do more than its share of setting the atmosphere. Her expression contorted into a pitiful cross between self-loathing and outward contempt, making no effort to mask her awareness of the painful subtext.

This minor detail escaped scrutiny, drowned out by the shock to everyone's systems: had Ixion just insinuated Princess Celestia was a deceiver?

"Yes," she said cryptically, veering away from the attentive Lord-General to sit upon the Royal Tier. "I suppose this had to be addressed at some point." She extended a tiny wisp of magic into her vocal cords, activating her own rarely used Canterlot Voice. "Citizens of the Sun Court," she announced, nailing that perfect balance between firmness and eardrum-shattering that her sister never could master. "With great regret, it has come to our attention that the circumstances surrounding my sister's departure have given rise to some unsightly misconceptions. These rumours, we fear, are the true source of this... malcontent."

She looked around, to find that everyone - Magnate and High Magnate alike - had bowed their heads without hesitation. She sighed, not exactly wanting to deliver this declaration to a group of yes-ponies; given the nature of what she was about to say, their blind obedience would sabotage the underlying moral before it even left her tongue.

"Please, rise," she requested, and her one-track minded subjects did so as though it were a royal order. "What I am about to say regarding the absence of my sister is the honest, unabridged truth. However, beyond our word, we wish that you make up your own minds regarding whether or not to accept this truth, or reject it. My desire is your genuine loyalty and trust, not control."

They all bowed again, but only held it briefly. It was the unspoken, yet unanimous means of answering "yes ma'am!" to a monarch without burdening her divine ears with the profanity of your filthy mortal voice - or something like that. Celestia had always hated being revered as such, and this only stoked that fire. Still, it served its purpose in this case.

"My little ponies, the truth is that my sister was removed as the co-monarch of the Kingdom of Equestria by force. There are factors to consider, such as what drove us to that resolution. Her intentions for the kingdom had taken a turn for the worse, through no fault of her own. I usurped her throne - knowingly rendering myself the executive of an autocracy - with the intention of restricting her ability to do this."

She paused her long-winded speech to sigh heavily, but at least the Canterlot Voice had a tendency to make anything sound dramatic and important. Still, she couldn't shake the growing feeling of sadness. Those memories hadn't exactly faded yet and, to make matters worse, these developments just proved how stupid and tragic this whole thing was. She had lost her sister to a senseless mistake, and now those events were the premise for something almost as bad. It was a chain reaction that should never have begun.

Still believe thy night unappreciated, Luna?

"I fear these rumours regarding the 'true' reason for my sister's absence have swayed the minds of the kingdom's outlying areas." It was no secret that the outlying villages held Princess Luna in high regard, for as Ixion said, most of them were heavily reliant on night shift work. In hindsight, it was remarkable that Luna ever got the idea that her night was unappreciated. "This brings to light an issue of trust. I do not wish to be followed by those who do not completely trust me and fear they have no choice but to bow. Those of you who can not find it in their hearts to place their faith in me, I offer the chance to leave the court with no repercussion."

Everyone held their seats and kept their heads bowed, to the surprise of exactly no one. Celestia immediately rethought the wisdom of making what could arguably be construed as a loaded offer or, at worst, a veiled threat. Still, this was about establishing and reaffirming trust, so for her own peace of mind and the sake of her integrity as monarch, she had to at least offer an out. She was a dictator in name only, and detested the thought of even accidentally forcing someone into obeyng her.

Besides, she thought. Am I not being pessimistic? The court has affirmed its unanimous support in the kingdom's hour of need. How dare I doubt my subjects' loyalty without due reason?

The benevolent princess smiled outwardly, signalling her loyal subjects to rise. "Thank you all. Now, I have heard," she said, looking at Ruby Slipper for a moment, "and considered your opinions," her gaze shifted to the other side of the room, resting upon Golden Silver. "However, we will not take military action. We will not antagonize these villages any further than these... circumstances already have. The bandit activity will be contained, in time, but it is not our priority."

Arcanus smiled, watching the real power behind the court go to work. No matter how obstructive a bureaucrat or obnoxious a courtier, there wasn't one the princess couldn't deal with by just denyng them the sun for a day.

While officially all the court's proceedings held some meaningful capacity, he recalled that one of the savvier books he'd skimmed on the subject managed to highlight the subtext perfectly: Bottom line, the kingdom was an absolute monarchy, and majority had no place in it. The voting system existed solely to let the princesses know who they were pissing off.

"Our first priority is to placate, and secure our relations with those still willing to listen to reason. We must not allow this movement to spread to an eighth village."

"The village of Pony'borough, according to my scouts," Ixion added. "Pony'borough is the closest village to southeastern border of the realm, and following the chain the other seven have formed, it is most likely next in line."

Celestia nodded. "Negotiations with Pony'borough shall be handled by a strictly unarmed team to peacefully defuse their intentions. For that purpose, an ambassador will be elected, and they shall in turn elect two escorts of their choice."

Arcanus smiled. At the princess's guidance, this situation would be defused by week's end. She had a massive pool of academics from which to choose, not to mention civil services and even military ambassadors. She'd pick someone brilliant, with years of experience and qualifications to match, not to mention an affinity for the silver tongue.

Celestia whipped her head around, and offered an almost mischievous grin. "And for that purpose, I wish to call upon my guest."