Dawn broke. It wasn’t too bright yet, but it would be soon.
I awoke. Hardly out of any wish to do so, unfortunately. My alarm clock was ringing. It was growing to be an incredible nuisance. I’d set it to the tune of my favourite song, Beethooven’s Fifth Symphony, and as of three months ago, that tune makes me want to tear my hair out.
With a pronounced groan, I brought my hoof down upon the offending device with a satisfying thunk. It stopped ringing abruptly. I tried to settle back into the covers, burying my head in the welcoming pillow. Sweet, sweet sleep…
The door flew open. My beloved wife of ten years stood in the doorway.
“Good morning, Fancy!” She said cheerfully.
I have never wanted to strangle her more than I do now.
“Yes, Fleur?” I grunted, squeezing my eyes shut.
“I just came from the mailbox.”
“Uh huh.” I was only half-listening.
“There’s a letter for you from the government.”
“Right.”
“But it’s not just any ordinary letter.”
“What is it, then?”
“You won the election!”
All of a sudden, everything froze. I slowly processed what I’d been told.
“... What?” I eventually asked.
“You won the election, Fancy!” She repeated.
I wasn’t sure if I was misunderstanding her. “You’re not talking about the election for the Presidency of the Wine of the Month club, are you?”
“No.”
“And you’re not talking about the election to the local Board of Governors?”
“That’s not even a real election, dear.” She smiled at me patiently. I think she understood just how bewildered I was.
“So… then… I really won the election of the Democratic Empire of Equestria?” I ventured.
“Yes… Minister.” She nodded. “Congratulations.”
Suddenly, I didn’t feel like sleeping any more. I leapt out of bed. “What ministry am I getting?”
“Perhaps you’d best read the letter for yourself.” Fleur levitated an open envelope over to me. I reached out with my telekinesis and retrieved it. Pulling the letter out, I began to read.
Dear Mr Fancy Pants:
Congratulations on your new appointment. The ponies of Canterlot have deemed you fit for the position of a Minister of the Crown. The Ministry of Administrative Affairs has been entrusted to your care. Please be at the palace at 8am today for further details.
Yours Sincerely,
Princess Celestia
I slowly lowered the letter. “Am I dreaming?”
“You could always try to hurt yourself, just to make sure.” Fleur offered.
I walked over to my alarm clock and reset the alarm. Immediately, the soft tune of Beethooven’s Fifth Symphony emerged from its speakers and assaulted my eardrums mercilessly. After a full minute, I turned it back off.
“I’m not dreaming.” I stated flatly.
She laughed. “I figured as much after the first ten seconds. You didn’t need to play it for a whole minute.”
“I needed to make sure.” I said defensively.
“Right…” She gave me a knowing grin. “I think somepony’s beginning to like the Fifth Symphony again.”
“... Maybe.” I admitted. After all, it was the song that woke me up this beautiful morning.
Time passed quickly. After I clambered out of bed, I rushed through my morning routine with as much care as my haste could afford. Half an hour later, I stepped out of my house, my teeth sparkling, my stomach full, and my mane brushed impeccably. I wore my signature dress coat with my purple bowtie and blue suit. I’d made sure the coattails were especially well-ironed today. After all, first appearances in Canterlot tend to be particularly important. Especially when it’s the first appearance one makes as a Minister.
I breathed in the fresh morning air. It invigorated me. Though I dare say that a lingering sentiment of euphoria from my wakeup call contributed somewhat to the energy boost.
As I started off towards the palace, a spring in my step, I took the time to admire the scenery. Everything seemed to have a little more colour today.
I heard a door open behind me. I turned around and saw Jet Set stumble out of his mansion down the street, rubbing his eyes in disbelief.
“Good morning, Jet Set!” I called.
“Fancy Pants?” He squinted at me. “Is that you?”
I laughed good-naturedly. “The one and only.”
“What business brings you to venture out at this hour? Usually I only see you around noon.”
“I received some good news.” I said. “I won the election!”
“Uh… do you mean the election for the Presidency of the Wine of the Month club?” He asked, confused.
“No, no, the national elections.” I explained. “I’ve been appointed as a Minister of the Crown.”
“Well, I do say…” He wore an expression of dumbfounded shock. Forcing a smile, he said, “Congratulations, Fancy!”
“Thank you, thank you.” I inclined my head appreciatively. “I wonder who voted for me…”
“Well, not to put too fine a point on it, but Upper Crust and I supported you the whole way.” Jet Set injected as much artificial warmth into his smile as he could. If I hadn’t known that it was all an act I might have been touched.
“And I am immensely grateful for it.” I replied, maintaining my mask.
“Remember when you were making your election speech?” He asked.
“Yes, I saw you there.” I acknowledged. I purposefully neglected to mention that I’d seen him at Blueblood’s speech too, cheering louder than he had for me.
Two-faced little-
“Don’t forget us normal ponies when you’re up there making decisions for Equestria.” He nudged me jovially.
“I won’t.” I said, silently resolving to forget him as much as I could.
He seemed satisfied with my assurance. “Well, you seem to be in a hurry. I wouldn’t like to hold you back.”
“Goodbye, then.”
“Good day.” He waved farewell and trotted away. I caught a glimpse of his smug grin a brief second before he disappeared back through the door of his opulent mansion.
I shook my head sadly. A bit of the colour faded from the city. Strangely, after all my years as a resident in Canterlot, mingling with the social elite hasn’t gotten any easier.
I shouldn’t think like that. I reflected. Besides, I shouldn’t be getting any more of this nonsense in the palace.
With that reassuring thought firmly in mind, I resumed my journey, making a conscious effort to hold my head up high. As a Minister, I shouldn’t show anything less than complete confidence. Of course, nopony knew I was a Minister yet, but they soon would. Perhaps in this morning’s papers.
Just the thought of it made me giddy with excitement. I mean, I’d always been well-known, but only mostly in the Canterlot social circles. A Minister, however, would be known throughout all of Equestria! The sheer magnitude of it was staggering. There were only a few who enjoyed such extensive publicity - the royal family, some of the most popular celebrities, and of course, everypony else in our democratically elected government.
I forced myself to calm down. Composure was another vital Ministerial virtue, and I would be damned if I allowed myself to seem like anything less than the perfect candidate for the honour that had been bestowed upon me.
I surveyed my surroundings. Ponies were sticking their heads out of the buildings lining the street on either side, watching me with obvious interest. Some waved at me, others gave me a respectful nod, and a few frowned at me as I trotted past. From what I remember, they were my competitors in the recent election. I smiled at them.
So absorbed was I in greeting that I nearly ran straight into the newspaper delivery mare.
I apologised profusely. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“No need to apologise.” She replied, a wry grin on her face. “It was my fault.”
“No, no, it was mine.” I insisted.
“Perish the thought… Minister.” She hoofed a copy of today’s news to me and galloped off, saying goodbye.
I read the headlines: New Minister’s Fancy.
Looks like I made it into the morning papers after all. And as ponies began to come out of their houses to collect their own newspapers, several looks of dawning comprehension came my way.
I picked up the pace coolly. There was almost no doubt that I would soon be mobbed - albeit in a respectful way, the kind that would let them do as much bootlicking as possible. It would do wonders for my ego, to be sure, but I don’t think it needs any more boosting right now. I might get a swollen head. That wouldn’t be good at all. Not to mention that I’d never get through a mob like that. I’d be stuck fast until midnight.
A cavalcade of pounding hooves sent tingles down my spine. Looks like I was right.
For the first time in twenty years, I broke into a full-blown gallop. It was exhilarating. Thankfully, through it all, the directions to the palace screamed at me in my head.
Left. Left. Right. Left.
I’d always heard that the surroundings stretch into a blur when you’re at the losing end of a chase, but everything manifested themselves around me with perfect clarity.
I almost whooped in excitement. Composure, Fancy.
Though I’m not sure how much that matters right now.
“So, how do you feel about getting a new Minister?”
“I don’t know, Sir Apple. I haven’t even met him yet.”
“You don’t need to meet him to have an opinion, Woolly. It’s a foregone conclusion that he won’t be able inconvenience us. He’ll probably give up after the first few months.”
“We don’t know yet. He could be different.”
“That is exactly what you said about Blueblood.”
“He was once a royal. I thought he might be better.”
“Was he?”
“...”
“I thought not. Now, get ready to meet our new Minister. He should be here at any moment.”
“... Yes, Sir Apple.”
I reached the grand stairway to the palace at last, panting heavily. I suspected that any hint of composure had crumbled to dust five minutes ago, but who could expect me to stay dignified while being chased by a hundred admirers?
The mad frenzy of thundering hooves drew closer. I took a step onto the stairs.
Immediately, the sound stopped. I allowed myself a brief smirk of triumph. To even set hoof onto the steps of the palace without an invitation or high enough social status was considered immeasurably disrespectful among the prominent social circles of Canterlot, despite the Princesses' constant insistence to the contrary.
I turned around. The crowd was staring at me with evident dismay. But there was something else in their eyes. Curiosity, perhaps?
I looked back up the stairs. There, at the very top, stood two ponies silhouetted against the glare of the rising sun. The first one’s head was turned downwards, and as he noticed my presence, he began his descent to greet me. The second followed dutifully.
I climbed the stairs slowly, aware of the crowd who was watching me from behind. The features of the silhouettes gradually became visible as they drew closer.
The first was an earth pony. His coat was a particularly light shade of auburn. His orange mane, impeccably combed, reminded me of my own before my chase. Much of his torso was concealed beneath a well-ironed business suit. The other, a unicorn, had a blue-grey mane which seemed only slightly messier than his companion’s. His suit had a few creases and crinkles in it, although I couldn’t possibly guess at the cause. Finally, a very significant detail: his face was twisted in distinct discomfort, a stark contrast to the other’s confident smile.
“Good morning, Minister.” The earth pony said. “You’re early.”
“So are you.” I pointed out.
“True, true.” He nodded. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Sir Apple Bee, your Permanent Secretary.”
A civil servant. There have been many rumours about the Equestrian Civil Service going around the social scene, most of them bad. They span the whole range, from being deliberately uncooperative to actively making Ministers’ lives a miserable wreck. But because retired Ministers invariably remain silent about their experiences in government, these rumours never have any backing evidence.
Rumours don’t start from nothing, though. No smoke without fire, as they say. I should watch my back.
“‘Sir’?” I asked. “You’re a knight?”
“Indeed, I am.” He confirmed. “As a Senior Civil Servant of the Equestrian Empire who has laboured for more than ten years in his profession, such honours have been bestowed upon me to reward my tireless effort.”
He was unusually flowery with his language. I didn’t know what to make of it, so I decided to ignore it. “I see. And,” I turned to the unicorn, “who are you?”
“I am Barnyard Woolly, Minister.” He replied.
I noted the lack of prefix. “You’re not a knight?”
“Of course not.” He answered with surprise. “I have only been in the Service for three years.”
“So, if Sir Apple is my Permanent Secretary, who are you?”
“I am your Private Secretary, Minister. In other words, the Principal Private Secretary of the Ministry of Administrative Affairs.”
Being new to the government, I wasn’t yet entirely sure of all of its inner workings. “If I may ask, how are my two Secretaries different?”
Apple was quick to explain. “I, the Permanent Secretary, am in charge of administering the Ministry as a whole.”
“I thought that the Minister was in charge of administering his Ministry.”
“Celestia forbid. Such a task in beneath you.” Apple shook his head disdainfully. “No, your job, Minister, is to make decisions. Woolly’s role as your Principal Private Secretary is to disseminate these decisions and oversee their implementation by me and the Ministry.”
“I see.”
“He is also your personal aide, in that he will be by your side during work hours, take careful minutes of your conferences, organise your schedule, advise you in your decision-making, and the like.”
Woolly certainly sounded like the more important of the two, judging by his relative proximity to me. But, if his submissive posture is anything to go by, everything is not as it seems.
“So, you, Sir Apple, are in charge of the civil servants in my Ministry?”
“Yes, Minister.”
“All of them?” I was beginning to realise the implications of what I was asking.
“Of course.”
“Wouldn’t that mean that you are, in turn, Woolly’s superior?”
“... Yes…” He conceded reluctantly. “But only nominally. In practice, this is not so. Isn’t that right, Woolly?”
“Yes, Sir Apple.” Woolly replied dutifully.
All in all, a poor act. It seems that even my Private Secretary can be controlled by Sir Apple. And if the rumours of the lack of cooperation between the Civil Service and Ministers were true…
“Can I ask you another question?”
“Please, feel free.” Apple assured me.
“There have been rumours flying around.” I said.
“There always are.” He remarked with a weary grin.
“About the Civil Service, specifically.” I continued. “That they aren’t big on working with Ministers as a team.”
I expected an outright denial. I didn’t get one. “Perhaps, Minister, there is some truth to these claims.”
“Really?” I asked incredulously. I didn’t think he’d confess.
“Some. But ultimately, it only applies to those Ministers who believe that they are always right.”
“What do you mean?”
“On occasion, a Minister - usually an inexperienced one - presents a policy that is unfeasible. Of course, the Civil Service is bound by duty to point out the flaws. Many Ministers take it well. Some do not. Obviously, the Service cannot follow through with such a plan despite the Minister’s insistence, so they obstruct it as best they can.”
There was some truth to his argument. Especially since a large portion of the Canterlot social elite would fall under the latter kind of Minister! But there was one thing that stuck out at me.
“Sir Apple,” I inquired, “what defines an unfeasible policy?”
His smile faded slightly. “Well, there is a long list of telltale signs. Very, very lengthy. We could furnish you with a copy, if you so wish, but-”
“Give me one.” I ordered.
“With all due respect, Minister, you have many better ways to spend your time.”
“I will have one anyway.” I stated firmly. He was being far too obvious about trying to keep me from it.
Perhaps these Civil Servants will not be as hard to outmanoeuvre at I’d thought.
“... Your word is law, Minister.” He reluctantly acquiesced.
“Good, good.” I nodded. “Now, onto other issues.”
“Perhaps,” Sir Apple suggested, “we ought to discuss these other issues in your office.”
It was then, at that exact moment, that I remembered that we were still standing on the stairs. Under the heat of the sun. With the crowd at the bottom awkwardly staring up at us.
“Ah… that sounds like a good idea.” I agreed.
“Sir Apple rarely has bad ones.” Woolly piped up.
“Well said, Woolly.” Sir Apple smiled.
If he’s going to obstruct my policies, I should hope that his stream of good ideas runs dry. And soon. “So, where is my office?”
“In the palace.” Woolly replied. “Allow me to bring you there.”
“Lead the way.” I said.
“As you fancy, Minister.” With a purposeful stride, he marched up the stairs, towards the huge double doors of the front entrance. I hurried after him, leaving Sir Apple as far behind as I could.
“Woolly? Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“I don’t mean to pry, but… why does your suit have crinkles while Sir Apple’s is immaculate?”
He hesitated. “I… well…”
“You don’t need to answer that if you don’t want to.” I backtracked quickly. “I was just curious, is all.”
“... Actually, Minister, you seemed so dishevelled when you were coming up the stairs just now, and I didn’t want you to feel left out, so…” He trailed off.
I was pleased. “You messed up your suit for me?”
“Please, Minister, I didn’t mean to be disrespectful!” He panicked. “I knew I had to observe proper formality at all times, but I didn’t- I- you-”
“No, no, you misunderstand.” I hastily reassured him. “I’m touched that you would risk a breach in decorum for me.”
“I… oh.” Woolly gave me a relieved smile. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” I said. And, for the first time in the past ten years, I found that I meant it.
It was a good feeling.
On the way to my office, we trudged past corridor after corridor of frenzied activity. Papers and folders, encapsulated in glowing auras of varying hues, flew around rooms and even across the hallways, speeding from door to door in a poor attempt at organisation.
“Are things always this busy?” I asked Woolly.
Sir Apple answered instead. “Most of the time, Minister.”
“Duck.” Woolly added. I complied, just in time to avoid a particularly bulky file travelling at bone-shattering speeds.
“How am I supposed to get used to this?” I complained.
“Worry not, you eventually will.” Sir Apple assured me. “In the fullness of time.”
“That’s good to know.” On second thought, that doesn’t sound very helpful at all - ‘the fullness of time’ could be anytime between now and doomsday!
Fate took advantage of my momentary distraction to scare me. Another object - a parcel this time - missed the tip of my nose by mere millimetres.
“Be careful, Minister.” Sir Apple advised. As if that wasn’t already obvious.
“Surely there is a better way of doing things.” I said. “Some way that doesn’t throw workplace safety out of the twentieth-story palace window.”
“Perhaps, but that implies change.” Sir Apple explained. “Change is always a dangerous notion.”
“How so?” I asked, surprised.
“It is as the old adage goes; ‘Better the demon you know than the one you don’t.’”
“Not all change is bad.” I retorted.
“Maybe not, but how can one tell? There may be all sorts of unforeseen consequences. If matters can be handled under the current status quo, there is no sense upsetting the balance.”
“But what if it can be handled better?”
“With respect, Minister, the term ‘better’ is subjective. Not to mention that it is often difficult to ascertain whether a certain situation can be considered advantageous or not.”
“Give me an example.”
“Certainly. These busy halls you were just complaining about once prevented an assassination attempt on the last Minister of Administrative Affairs.”
“Oh my.” It sounded ghastly. Not to mention I couldn’t figure out who would want to assassinate a Minister in charge of something as uncontroversial as administration. “Who was the Minister back then?”
“Blueblood.” Woolly informed me.
Suddenly, everything made sense. “How was the assassin stopped?”
“He was battered into unconsciousness.” Woolly said.
“Oh.” I replied. What else could I say? It was painfully obvious. Literally.
“We have arrived.” Sir Apple’s voice cut through my thoughts. “This is your office.”
Woolly held the door open for me. I stepped in.
The sight dazzled me. The lavish cobalt carpet that stretched from corner to corner of the room caught my eye first. The room itself was by no means small; it was easily one and a half times as big as the average living room in Canterlot. The mosaic on the ceiling, a perfect copy of Celestia's cutie mark, shone immaculately in the morning light. Beside a thoroughly polished oakwood desk, a large window across the western wall gave me a splendid view of the city’s majesty.
“Am I to take it by your silence that you are pleased?” Sir Apple asked.
“Very.” I murmured distantly. “Truly amazing…”
“We hoped you would be satisfied, Minister.” Woolly said cheerfully. “The entire Ministry spent the past week tidying up this room for you.”
How thoughtful of them. “They shouldn’t have.” I replied.
“I will inform the others of your satisfaction.” Woolly continued. “They will be duly pleased.”
“Feel free to do that.” I said, landing squarely back in reality. “But for now, it’s time to get down to business.”
“Of course, Minister.” Sir Apple said. “What, then, is your first order of business?”
At once, everything came to mind. The details of my Grand Design spilled out of my mouth.
“I have a vision of reform.” I announced.
Woolly leaned towards Sir Apple and whispered conspiratorially. The latter chuckled quietly.
“What’s so funny?” I inquired.
“No, Minister, we were just noting that Blueblood gave a speech with the exact same opening statement.” Woolly explained. “It was an excellent comedy act.”
This does not bode well. I don’t want my secretaries to treat my plan as a joke. “Mine is not the same as his.”
Instantly, the smile wiped itself clean off Sir Apple’s face. “Quite so, Minister.” He agreed firmly.
“It is very serious.”
“Of course.”
“I plan to cut down on the amount of worthless administration in this system.”
“A noble cause, Min…” He paused. “Hold on, what did you say?”
“I want to reduce the sheer volume of red tape we have to swim through to get things done.” I asserted. “My last attempt at repurposing and renovating a government building for my business took me five years - not because of the renovation, mind you, which only took six months, but the delay in the government system!”
“Um… how dreadful.” Woolly said.
“I assure you, Minister, that was but an anomaly.” Sir Apple answered smoothly. “The system is usually far more efficient.”
“Really?” I asked. “Give me one administrative process that took less than a year to complete.”
“There are hundreds.”
“Give me one.”
“Uh… alright. There was an application for a job vacancy.”
“How long did you take to respond to that?”
“Only ten months.”
“Ten months?” I was shocked. “You left it open for so long?”
“Of course not.” He responded indignantly.
“Oh, so you were joking.”
“No, I was not. It took us ten months to respond.”
Horror dawned. “Then… when was he actually hired?”
“Well…” Sir Apple looked sheepish. “Eighteen months later.”
“This is appalling!” I shouted. “See, this is exactly the type of administration I want to cut down on!”
“Surely not.” Sir Apple frowned.
“I mean it.” I added.
“And it is, indeed, a brilliant idea.” I almost didn’t notice that he reversed his position in the blink of an eye. It’s better not to question it - if he’s on my side that just reinforces my point.
“What are your views?” I asked him.
“This idea is truly imaginative. Novel. Ingenious.”
I think that was praise. I'm not too sure though - he wrinkled his nose distastefully when he said it.
"So you'll support me?" I ventured. "You'll ensure that my Grand Design isn't obstructed?"
"Most certainly, Minister." He confirmed. "However, there may be many unforeseen problems with your plan."
"Such as?"
"Surely you don't expect me to summon cogent arguments without sufficient forethought."
"Then what do you suggest?"
"I propose that we set up an interdepartmental committee to investigate the possible consequences so that, in due course, we will be in a position to consider the full implications and make a sound decision in the light of these aforementioned implications." He said.
I only caught the first half of that sentence. "An interdepartmental committee?"
"A formal discussion, concerning a proposed policy which a Minister wants to see through, between the affected Ministries." Woolly explained helpfully. "It is standard practice to initiate one in order to assess the feasibility of a particularly weighty policy."
It sounded reasonable to me, at least on the surface of it. "When can we expect to reach a conclusion?"
"It differs from case to case." Sir Apple informed me. "For a plan such as yours, Minster, it might take some time. After all, Rome wasn't built in a day."
Fair enough. "Alright, then, set one up." I commanded. "I want to implement my reforms as soon as possible."
"Yes, Minister." My secretaries bowed respectfully and, with an air of evident satisfaction, shuffled out of the room.
This has been an immensely fulfilling day.
I started the next morning early. By the time the sweet, melodic tune of Beethooven's Fifth Symphony drifted into my waiting ears I was in the bathroom, giving my teeth a good scrubbing-down. I switched the alarm off with a quick flash of magic.
I put down the toothbrush, gave my mouth a momentary glance, and rushed through the living room. Picking up and slipping into my well-pressed suit on my way, I hurried out the door.
I'm not going to be later than Sir Apple today.
My path brought me past Jet Set's house. He was staring out the window. It gave me immense pleasure to ignore him completely. Out of the corner of my eye, I noted his shocked expression with glee. I suppressed the urge to laugh and trotted away from him briskly.
Ten minutes of peaceful solitude passed uneventfully. I began to grow suspicious. It had taken all of five minutes for a mob to gather yesterday. Why was I now so alone?
I oughtn't question it. I reflected. It's not like having a horde on my tail was doing me any favours anyway.
My ego wilted a little. I tried to ignore it, with limited success.
My mind, locked in battle with my bruised self-esteem, drifted slowly away from reality. My legs carried me to the palace, acting of their own accord. I was making my way up the stairs when a voice cut through my thoughts.
"Good morning, Minister." Sir Apple said.
He'd beaten me again. I was disappointed. How did these Civil Servants always manage to be so early?
I didn't let the dismay show. "Good morning, Sir Apple." I greeted. "What brings you here so early?"
"The same business as you." He replied. "The nation's needs."
"Quite." I agreed. "Has the interdepartmental committee been prepared yet?"
"The first meeting is convening now. Woolly is waiting for you in the conference room."
"Good, good." I nodded approvingly.
"Also, Minister, this is for you." He motioned to a towering pillar of paper by his side. It amazed me that I hadn’t noticed it first. Sir Apple himself was at least half a metre shorter than the stack.
“What is that?” I asked, shocked.
“The list of factors that defines an unfeasible policy.”
“But…how could it be so long?”
“I did explain that it was a lengthy list, Minister.” Sir Apple said.
I wondered what to do with it. “Can you bring it to my office?”
“The Ministry will take care of it, if you so wish.”
“Alright, then. I’ll find time to read it as soon as possible.” Goodness knows how long it’s going to take me to finish! “Where is the conference room?”
“Allow me to lead you there, Minister.”
“Thank you.” I find it curious that they insist on leading me everywhere. I understand that it’s only my second day as a Minister, but surely they need only give me the directions. Don’t they have their own things to do?
Nonetheless, Sir Apple had already begun his walk into the palace, so I had no choice but to follow him quietly. We didn’t take the route past my department again - thankfully, because I’m not sure I’m in shape to do all that dodging so early in the morning - but rather moved in the opposite direction, away from the obstacle course. Sir Apple stopped at the third door on the right and nudged it open gently, ushering me in.
I scanned the room. There were three Ministers assembled around a circular mahogany table in the centre of the room, flanked by ponies I assumed were their Private Secretaries. Woolly himself stood beside an empty silk pillow, bowing gently at my entrance.
The other Ministers rose as well. “Greetings, Fancy.” One of them, an azure unicorn stallion, smiled at me, his amber-coloured eyes twinkling. “Congratulations on your appointment.”
There were several more muttered echoes of “yes, congratulations”.
“Thank you, everyone.” I said. “So, Night Light, what Ministry are you heading?”
“Health and Social Security.” The unicorn replied. “Caesar, here,” he motioned to a grey earth pony at the far end of the table, “is in charge of Economy.”
Caesar inclined his head respectfully, not a strand of his light-greyish hair falling out of place. “Indeed.”
“What about you, Ribbon?” I questioned.
“I’m the Minister of Employment,” said the last Minister, a cerise-coated unicorn mare with a cobalt mane. “Pleased to see that you’ve become a Minister yourself, Fancy.”
I acknowledged her pleasantry with a nod and turned to Woolly. “Are these all the Ministers who will be affected by my planned policy change?”
“There are more.” He said. “But this is just a hastily-prepared preliminary meeting, so not all the Ministers’ schedules were free.”
I guess this will have to do. “Shall we begin?” I asked.
“Certainly.” Caesar began smoothly. “If I’m not mistaken, Fancy, you plan to reduce administration in the government, correct?”
“Correct. It would certainly cut down on the time spent dealing with administrative procedures.”
“Be as it may, it worries me that you might not have taken into account the fact that all of this paperwork might serve a purpose greatly pertinent to the functions of the government.”
He sounded like Sir Apple. The level of complexity of his speech certainly mirrored my Permanent Secretary’s. “What purpose might this be?”
He paused inexplicably. I was momentarily baffled. But then, the brief glint of a dull magic aura caught my eye, and a thin slip of paper slid its way onto the table.
Notes! He was reading from notes!
“You see, much of this paperwork are copies of documents and minutes of relevant meetings, stored and filed away in the archives of every Ministry. It serves as a store of crucial information.”
I picked up on the phrase ‘archives of every Ministry’. “Each Ministry has an archive of its own?”
“Of course.”
“Why not just have one large central archive?” I suggested.
Caesar opened his mouth to respond, but his secretary preempted him. “If I may crave your indulgence for a moment, Minister, that would take a great amount of administrative and logistical work to rearrange. The cost would outweigh the benefits.”
“Speaking of costs outweighing benefits,” Ribbon interjected, “it is also apparent that a planned reduction of administration would take a great amount of time to implement.”
“A great amount of time?” I was astounded. “How? It’s not like we’re constructing buildings or growing crops. This is just a change in procedure.”
“You underestimate the impact of even the smallest alteration in procedure.” Caesar replied in her stead.
“Nonetheless, it is primarily an alteration in administrative procedure.” I countered. “It is my Ministry that will shoulder most of the burden.”
“We all have our own internal administrative affairs as well.” Ribbon snapped. “Needless to say, executing such a procedural shift will bring unnecessary work upon our Ministries.”
“Quite right.” Caesar asserted.
“And what about you, Night Light?” I turned to him. “I suppose you have something against my plan as well?”
At least he had the decency to look embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Fancy, but my Permanent Secretary advises me that achieving your aim, at least in its current form, would be premature. Precipitate.”
“But the arguments against my position so far have been against its fundamental nature, not its current form.” I protested. “How can we accomplish great change without great effort?”
“It’s always a matter of cost-benefit analysis.” Ribbon remarked. “Unfortunately, Fancy, your policy’s costs outweigh the benefits by far.”
“It… never mind.” I sighed. “I think I’ve heard enough. I need some time to think this through.”
Night Light stood up. “Shall I take my leave now, Fancy?”
“Please, feel free.” I gestured to the door. Night Light nodded at the others, who followed him out of the room. Only Woolly stayed behind, closing the door gently behind the rest.
“How do you think that went?” I asked him.
“It went… um… well, Minister.” He answered cautiously, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor.
I could sense an air of studied ambiguity. Was he hiding something from me?
I had to choose my next words carefully. “What makes you say that?”
“I… uh… logical objections to your plan were brought up.”
“But no solutions.” I reminded him. “What use are finding problems without the necessary solutions to overcome them?”
“They tell you when to give up, Minister.” He replied.
I seized the opportunity. “So are you telling me I should give up?”
He panicked. “No, no, Minister! I merely think you would be well advised to consider the consequences which, um, require sensitive handling and proper discretion and, uh, might well produce desirable results in the fullness of time, when the moment is ripe, in due course, um, um…”
He used three delaying phrases in a row. “You are telling me to give up.” I observed.
He hung his head in shame. “Yes, Minister.”
“Why?”
“Because…” He hesitated. Clearly he still has some inhibitions.
I tried to ease him out of his shell. “Woolly, please, I am your Minister. I need to know the full facts if I am to run this Ministry properly.”
He nodded silently.
Deciding that a straightforward course was in order, I asked, “What are you hiding from me?”
He struggled quietly for a few moments more, his loyalty to me clashing with his loyalty to whomever wanted to keep me in the dark. I hoped against hope that the former would triumph. Yesterday’s incident with his suit, if nothing else, proved that he had some measure of allegiance to me.
Finally, he sighed heavily, took a deep breath, and said, “Minister, Sir Apple asked me to make sure this reform doesn’t get through.”
“Sir Apple!” I exclaimed. He is trying to obstruct me after all!
“He sees as a disruption of the status quo.” Woolly explained. “Such a thing cannot be allowed.”
“But… the interdepartmental committee?”
“Was meant as a delaying tactic, not an actual means of analysing your policy. Since the Civil Service always advises the Ministers against change with the utmost vehemence, most interdepartmental committees never reach an official conclusion, so the whole issue is dropped after eighteen months or so and they never convene again.”
I should have known that treachery was afoot. “What now?”
“I’m sorry, but it is not for me to advise you as to how to undermine Sir Apple’s power.” Woolly said sadly. “Either way, many other Ministers have tried, and failed, to get the better of him. I’m afraid that Sir Apple is unbeatable, Minister.”
Those were the words of a defeatist. “Even if that’s true,” I growled, “I’m not beaten yet. And I don’t intend to stop until I am.”
“I can but advise you to concede.”
“I must apologise, but I’m not going to take your advice.” I told him. “I’m going back to my office.”
“Let me lead you there, Minister.” He offered.
“No.” I said.
“But, um, Minister, I advise that you ought to-”
I sighed. “Why doesn’t Sir Apple want me to be able to find my own way around the palace?”
“... He’s afraid that you might talk to some of the junior civil servants to find out information.”
“Why is he worried about that?”
“Because we are supposed to be the ones giving you the information you need. If a Minister goes out looking for information, he might well…”
“Find it?” I suggested.
“... Find an inaccurate version of it.” He finished.
I grew tired of this. “Just bring me back to my office.”
“Yes, Minister.” Pushing the door open, he escorted me back down the hallway. As we drew closer to my office, I somehow managed to blunder my way through the danger zone again without being pummelled by anything too heavy - although I did take a few crushed paper balls to the head and a book to my rear.
I stumbled into the room, rubbing the sore spot on my rump. “I’m going to get my reforms through one way or another.”
“Optimism is a good quality to have.” Woolly observed.
“I like to call it realism.” And then, turning my attention to the desk, my jaw fell open. Atop the oak surface wobbled the pillar of papers I’d seen earlier. A light gust blew in from outside, and the whole pile trembled unsteadily.
“Um, Minister…” Woolly began. “What is that?”
“Sir Apple’s list.” I muttered. “His list of everything that makes a policy unfeasible.”
Now I finally know why the damn thing is so tall. Sir Apple must have covered every single possible facet of any possible plan in there. He can oppose any notion of reform just by referring me to that list.
And now I can’t even say that I didn’t know because he gave it to me, and I said that I’d read it as soon as possible. I played right into his hooves!
“Woolly?”
“Yes?”
“Could you help me deliver a message to my wife at my house?”
“Certainly, Minister. What is it?”
I eyed the stack wearily. “Tell her I’m not coming home tonight.”
I yawned, lifting my head a few centimetres off the surface of the table. Through a haze of disorientation, I barely noticed a vaguely equine figure staring at me.
“Good morning, Minister.”
My eyes snapped open. “Gah!”
Sir Apple stared at me, concerned. “Are you alright?”
“Yes!”
“If I may be so bold as to enquire, Minister, why were you sleeping on your desk?”
“I had… business to take care of.” Suddenly it all came back to me. “Actually, yes, Sir Apple, there is something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you.”
“What do you wish to deliberate?”
“My reforms.”
“Oh.” His shoulders sagged slightly. “That.”
“Yes.” I tapped the side of the pillar of papers gently. “I’ve spent the night going through this list.” Hopefully the discrepancies I found hold water.
“Your work ethic is admirable, Minister.”
I ignored the flattery. “I’d like to have your views on my policy, based on what I've read in here.”
“Of course.” He replied.
“Can you refer me to any portions of this list which suggest that my reforms are unfeasible?”
“Certainly. Page one thousand and four, section Q, subsection C.”
I picked out the page, extricated it carefully from the pile, and read it aloud. “‘Policies which, under proper assumptions based on the current circumstances, are likely to cause an administrative obstruction of sufficient severity, may be deemed as impractical.”
“That sums it up quite well, don’t you think?” Sir Apple asked.
“But the obstruction will be minimal.” I argued.
“You underestimate the impact of even the smallest alteration in procedure.” He replied.
That was exactly what Caesar said to me, word for word. Conclusive evidence that Sir Apple had manipulated yesterday’s interdepartmental committee after all.
“I don’t think-” I began, and then it hit me. The obstruction will never be minimal. It will never be minimal because, if it is, Sir Apple will just blow it up to epic proportions and then claim that he was right. And I have no choice but to rely on him to execute my policy decisions, because that’s his job.
I grasped the full implications of it just a moment later. Even if I somehow managed to win this argument - something that I’m pretty sure he’s made nigh impossible - I can’t force him to cooperate because he’ll just make a huge mess of things and blame it on the shortsightedness of my policy. And there’s no way I can make him do it properly, because the only way that would work would be for him to actually want to do it properly, which, if he’s as committed to upholding the status quo as Woolly had implied, is absolutely undoable.
I had been outmanoeuvred and defeated. There was no way out.
“Minister?” Sir Apple’s voice cut through the fog of despair. “Are you alright?”
I half-suspected that I failed to keep the hopelessness out of my eyes when I gazed at him. “I’m fine.”
“What were you going to say about your policy?”
“... Nothing. Nothing at all.”
He gave me a puzzled glance. “Well, okay then.”
I sighed. “Could I ask a favour of you?”
“Go ahead, Minister.”
“I’d like to take the rest of the day off. Working through the night was exhausting.”
“Certainly. Woolly and I will handle affairs in your absence.”
Of course they will. I thought gloomily. I’m just here to make new policies - and since nothing ever changes there’s really no need for me at all.
“Goodbye.” I muttered, and without waiting for his reply I swept out the door, away from the damn office with its damn papers and my damn Permanent Secretary.
Damn it! I reached out my right forehoof and, with as much strength as I could muster, punched a random parcel out of the air. The telekinetic grip around it failed for just a second, and then it was back on its way to another room as if nothing had happened.
Powerless. The word planted itself in my head. I tried to shake it away. It refused to let go.
I’m powerless. Everypony thinks I have power - Jet Set, that newspaper delivery mare, the mob - but I don’t. I can’t change anything.
Maybe that’s why the mob didn’t show up. They realised the reality of the situation way before I did.
I groaned. After only two days I’d grown tired of the Civil Service, the government, and just being a Minister in general. Why had I ever thought that I’d be able to make a difference? So long as Sir Apple is at the wheel, nothing fundamental is ever going to change. Ever.
Perhaps it’s time to just give up.
“Fancy Pants!”
I snapped out of my reverie, startled. Somehow, I’d managed to walk all the way out of the palace without realising it. Now the stairs were stretched out before me.
“Fancy Pants!”
I finally noticed that there was somepony trying to catch my attention. I turned to the source.
My jaw dropped. “Blueblood?” I gasped.
“Yes, it’s me.” Back when he had just been elected, he still had that haughty look, that superior posture, and that upturned nose. Now, though, it seemed as if all the pride had gone out of him.
He walked up towards me with his head hung low. “Fancy, how are you doing?”
I was still too surprised to respond properly. All I could do what repeat what he said. “How am I doing?”
“In office, I mean.”
My mind finished its quick reboot. “Fine, fine.”
“Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”
“Forgiven.” I said. “I don’t believe me either.”
I expected him to smirk. Instead, he just smiled sadly. “Working with Sir Apple really takes it out of you, doesn’t it?”
“I know that only too well.” I rubbed my head, trying to stave off the migraine that threatened to surface at the mere mention of my Permanent Secretary. “But, if I may ask, what brings you here today, Blueblood?”
“I only wanted to see how you were doing as the Minister of Administrative Affairs.” He mumbled. “And if you’re doing any better than me.”
“Oh.”
“What have you accomplished so far?”
I thought back. “Nothing.”
He sighed. “No better off than me, then.”
Swallowing nervously, I asked, “Blueblood, have you ever gotten the better of Sir Apple?”
“No.”
“I’m starting to doubt that I ever will, either.” I stared at him hesitantly. “Do you think I should… give up?”
Blueblood froze. Then, slowly, he said, “Give up?”
“Yes, give up.” No matter how I tried to phrase it, it came out sounding like defeatism. “I mean, if I can never beat him, then what’s the point in trying any more?”
“Fancy Pants,” he began, “why do you think I never managed to accomplish anything during my time in office?”
“Um… why?”
“Because I gave up.” He explained. “I thought I couldn’t win, so I let Sir Apple walk all over me. I went from proud and haughty to humble and pessimistic. I’m no longer who I used to be.”
“I noticed.” I said. “But I think I like the new you better.”
“Everypony seems to say that, but I don’t like the new me. I always used to be so sure of myself. Now I’m uncertain, constantly plagued by doubts.” He shook his head. “The key is to keep fighting, Fancy. Don’t let hardship get you down. Never giving up doesn’t mean doing the same thing over and over again and hoping that it’ll work one day - no, never giving up means staying in the fight and doing whatever it takes to win.”
“But as far as I can see, there’s only one way to beat Sir Apple.” I protested weakly. “I have to get him to want to do what he doesn’t want to do. How am I supposed to do that?”
“Ah.” Blueblood’s eyes gleamed knowledgeably. “I think what you’ll want is a quid pro quo.”
“A sort of deal?” I considered this. “How am I supposed to offer him a dealhe’ll accept?”
“Morton’s Fork.” He said.
“What?” I asked.
“Morton’s Fork.” He repeated. “Give him a choice in which he’ll lose out no matter what he picks.”
“What kind of choice can I give him?”
“I don’t know.” Blueblood shrugged. “When I finally figured out that I had to use a Fork tactic to beat him, it was too close to the elections to risk upsetting the delicate balance of the voters’ opinions with any sudden changes.”
“But you still lost.” I pointed out.
He laughed hollowly. “I still did, didn’t I? Guess I shouldn’t have given up so quickly.”
“Perhaps.” I nodded slowly.
“I don’t want you to follow in my hoofsteps.” Blueblood said. “I won’t let you give up. So, I have some advice for you.”
I stopped and listened attentively.
"There are only a few things that Sir Apple is afraid of losing."
"What are they?"
"His power and his wealth." He explained. "Find a way to threaten one or another and he might just cave in."
"I could try to cut his pay - though I'm pretty sure he'll get around it somehow - but how would I manage to rid him of his power?"
"You might have no choice but to sabotage yourself - you’ll have to surrender some of your budget."
“Why?”
“His influence stems mainly from the Ministry's budget, because with more money he can hire more civil servants and expand his Ministry."
"You mean my Ministry." I corrected him.
He stared at me, eyebrows raised. "No, I mean his Ministry."
"Right, sorry." For a moment there I'd forgotten where the real authority lay.
"A bigger Ministry always wields greater power," he continued, "because the larger the Ministry, the greater the influence of its Permanent Secretary in the inter-secretary power circles."
"Power circles?" I inquired. "I thought the Civil Service was just one well-oiled machine designed to oppose reform?"
"When it's convenient for them." He said. "Otherwise, they're locked in a perpetual struggle for power."
Gradually, an idea began to form in my head. I couldn't quite articulate it yet, but I had a feeling that it would be the key to my victory.
Then revelation struck. “Of course!” I exclaimed. “That’s it!”
“What’s it?” A confused Blueblood asked.
“I can outwit him!” In a fit of excitement, I grabbed Blueblood’s hoof and shook it vigorously. “Thank you! You’ve been a great help!”
He stared at me, dumbfounded. “Uh, thanks?”
“I’ll need time to prepare.” I muttered to myself. “Anticipate arguments, create fallbacks…”
“It… seems like you have everything well in hoof.” He said.
“You’d better believe it.”
He grinned wryly. “What happened to giving up?”
“Those are the words of a defeatist.” I replied.
He nodded. “You’ll go far, Fancy. You can change a lot if you just try.”
“And it starts here.” I decided. “I’ll confront him tomorrow.”
Blueblood coughed. “Out of curiosity, how much did I help?”
“I couldn’t even hope to do it without you.” I assured him. “Your knowledge and suggestions will be crucial.”
He smiled. “Thank you. That makes me feel a little better.” Turning around, he trotted down the steps, his head held high. Some of the pride had slipped back into his demeanor.
I’m not sure if I helped him or not. But I know he helped me.
I awoke unthinkably early the next morning. A brief glance at my clock told me the time.
Two-thirty. If I’d gotten up this early just three days ago I’d have thought I was mad.
Silently disabling the alarm, I climbed cautiously out of the double bed, taking care not to disturb Fleur on my way out. She smiled in her sleep, rolled over, and pulled all the blankets over onto her side of the bed.
I chuckled softly. Goodness knows how many times she’s done that to me in the past.
I hurried out of the room and went through the motions of my morning routine. Slipping quickly into my suit, I examined myself in the mirror.
I gave my reflection a winning smile. He returned it.
Today is going to be a good day.
I trotted over to the door and threw it open. Canterlot had never been more colourful than it was right then.
The route to the castle was as familiar as ever, and this time there was nopony to stare at me out of their windows. No Jet Set or newspaper delivery mares, either. Just peaceful solitude.
When the palace drew into sight, I took a second to examine it carefully. The entire structure was shrouded in the dark of the night, with not a soul in sight. An eerie silence blanketed the area.
Even Sir Apple can’t be this early. I thought, as I ascended towards the enormous double doors. Pushing them open, I entered.
The halls were as still as death. I searched along the walls for the light switch and, having found it at last, flicked it on.
Immediately, I was bathed in harsh artificial light. My hoof lifted off the ground instinctively, shielding my sensitive eyes. Squinting, I shuffled slowly forward, trying not to run into any badly-placed obstacles.
I was in luck. This early in the morning, there wasn’t yet anything to obstruct my advance. Least of all Sir Apple.
I eventually made it to my office. I entered, sat down behind my desk, and picked up the first page of the Unfeasibility List.
Time to play the waiting game.
Two and a half hours later, Sir Apple walked in, a smirk on his face. The said smirk was wiped clear off when he noticed me on the seven hundredth page of the list.
“Good morning, Sir Apple.” I greeted him cheerfully.
“Minister! You’re… early.”
“So are you.” I pointed out.
“Err… yes, quite.” Blinking bewilderedly, he recovered from his surprise. “May I inquire as to why you are so early?”
“I just had a little brainwave last night.” A brainwave that took me hours to plan out.
“What was it about, Minister?”
“My reforms.”
“... I see.” His face darkened.
“No, no, Sir Apple, it’s just that I’ve realised that these reforms are indeed quite impractical, given the current circumstances. I’m inclined to believe that we should just leave it aside for the moment.”
“Ah.” He brightened up considerably. “It’s heartening to see that you are a realist.”
“Indeed.” I nodded with false agreement. “I’ve also been thinking about other issues too.”
Instantly, he was on his guard. “What other issues?”
“Sir Apple, do you think our Ministry has perhaps grown a little too big?”
“No, not at all, Minister.” He replied, wary. “Why do you ask?”
“It just seems we’re spending too much of the taxpayers' money on funding irrelevant administrators, that’s all.”
“Surely not, Minister.” He realised that he was under attack. He moved to the defense of his subordinates. “All of the administration they carry out is absolutely essential. None of it can be compromised.”
“I agree wholeheartedly.” I lied. “However, it occurs to me that much of this work could be subsumed by the other departments.”
“I hardly think so.” Sir Apple snorted derisively. “They lack the specialised staff to carry out efficient administration such as ours.”
“That’s why I was considering reallocating half of our administrators to other Ministries.”
Sir Apple’s eyes bulged in astonishment. “What?!”
“It would save a lot of work on our parts, don’t you think?” I continued.
“No.” He snapped.
“You mean, it won’t save us any trouble?”
“Well… perhaps some.” He conceded. “But it would be unfair to the other Ministries to saddle them with so many new responsibilities.”
“On the contrary,” I said, “I’ve already spoken to a few of the other Permanent Secretaries, and they agreed to shoulder some of the burden.”
Of course, I hadn’t actually done any such thing, but it certainly sounded like the kind of response the other Secretaries would give. They’d do anything they could to increase their own power.
My bluff worked. “Minister, this is unthinkable!” Sir Apple thundered.
I ignored him. “They’ve even agreed to take over all the administration necessary to effect these changes! Splendidly hard workers they are.”
“Please, Minister, they are just too self-sacrificing. To the point that they neglect themselves.” He maintained an impressively straight face the whole time. He’s obviously an experienced liar. “I implore you to reconsider.”
“And let you shoulder the whole burden?” I shook my head solemnly. “I can’t let you do that.”
“It’s no problem at all, Minister.” He persisted doggedly.
“Really?” I feigned surprise. “Oh, I suppose that there won’t be any difficulty in moving it over to the other Ministries, then. Their Permanent Secretaries will do just fine.”
His argument had backfired. But he hadn’t given up yet. “Still, Minister, I suspect the other Ministries would be too underfunded to pay all the administrators.”
“Don’t worry, I have a solution for that too.” I explained. “I’m planning to initiate a budget reduction for our Ministry as soon as possible, to free up some of the Treasury’s money for those who need it.”
“No!” Sir Apple gasped with horror.
“I think that solves your monetary concerns effectively.”
He was shocked speechless. His mouth opened a few times, but nothing came out.
I gave him an opening to voice his opinions. “So, what do you think?”
“Minister, you do not seem to grasp the implications of this!” He answered firmly.
“Please, Sir Apple, tell me what implications I haven’t considered. I’d like to know.”
“Well, erm, you see…” He hesitated.
“Yes?” I prompted him.
His resistance was on its last legs. “... Your pay, Minister, is indirectly linked to the size and budget of the Ministry under your control.”
“So?”
“If you decide to carry through with this decision, your income would no doubt suffer greatly.”
“Really, Sir Apple!” I admonished. “I became a Minister to serve Equestria, not myself! I don’t care if my paycheck is slightly smaller so long as I can properly carry out the wishes of the people.”
“Ah, but Minister, how does this change represent the wishes of the people?”
“They think the government spends too much on administration. Unfortunately, I can only afford to give them a show this time.” I sighed theatrically. “But an appearance in the reduction of administrative costs is better than nothing. Although, if I could actually satisfy them…” I left that hanging.
“Er, what do you have in mind?” Sir Apple asked.
“Nothing much.” I replied. “I just thought that we could cut down on the amount of worthless administration in this system.”
There it was. The quid pro quo, out in the open. And Sir Apple had no choice but to accept.
He paused for a few moments, probably searching for a way out. There was none.
“Perhaps, Minister,” he conceded reluctantly, “we could find a way to implement this policy in a practical fashion.”
“Really? But I thought you said that it was unfeasible.”
He remained silent for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “After mature consideration, I have found that there may be more efficient ways to execute it.”
“Excellent.” I beamed. “I knew I could depend on you.”
He said nothing. He simply stood there and seethed with silent anger. Anger, I expect, that he had been forced to compromise, and anger that he had been outmanoeuvred by a novice Minister.
“When can I expect it?” I asked.
“Soon. In the fullness of time. When the moment is-”
“No, Sir Apple. If you refuse to give me a deadline, I shall give you my own.”
“A month from now.” He hurriedly compromised.
“Very well.” Game, set and match. I couldn’t help but feel proud of myself.
“Minister?” Sir Apple began.
“Yes?”
“Am I to take it that you’re dropping the proposal to reallocate our administrators?”
I stared at him. With sweat pouring down his cheeks and his features twisted in a grotesque grimace, he looked as though he was on the verge of a breakdown. I decided to spare him. “Yes.”
He sagged with slight relief. “Thank you, Minister.” And then, having presumably remembered the quid pro quo, his head drooped in despair.
I felt like celebrating my first victory - hopefully the first of many. “When Woolly gets here, tell him to bring in some champagne, will you?”
Sir Apple stared at me. He knew what it was for. He could have at least tried to dissuade me. Instead, he just gazed at me with the eyes of one who had long since given up.
Even he was not immune to defeat. And neither was he above capitulation. To the persistent go the spoils, as it seems.
I must never consider giving up ever again. I might miss the light at the end of the tunnel.
“Well?” I prompted.
Sir Apple gave a resigned sigh and murmured, “As you fancy, Minister.”
