How to Win Hearts and Influence Princes

Chapters

Chapter 2: In Which Our Hero Settles In and Sees Another Side of the Prince
Chapter 3: In Which Our Hero Hears a Story and Tells a Story, Both of Cutie Marks
Chapter 4: In Which Our Hero Witnesses the Effects of Alcohol and Hatches a Plan
Chapter 5: In Which Our Hero Explains His Plan and Puts it into Action
Chapter 6: In Which Our Hero Meets the Family, the Town, and The Dispute
Chapter 7: In Which Our Hero's Plan Begins to Bear Fruit
Chapter 8: In Which Our Hero Engages in Espionage
Chapter 1: In Which Our Hero Has Regrets and Meets His Employer

Chapter 2: In Which Our Hero Settles In and Sees Another Side of the Prince

My room – rooms, actually – turned out to be private quarters in one of the palace's many, many wings. I'm pretty sure this is just one of the million guest rooms in the palace, and yet the bed is the softest thing I've ever felt in my life. The closet is huge, almost big enough for three ponies to stand in and still have breathing room. I'm almost ashamed of how little space my dress clothes take up. The bathroom is gorgeous – I know it's only a bathroom, but there's really no other adjective for it. Marble and shiny brass fittings everywhere, and it's all polished to a mirror shine.

My first day of work went quite well. Blueblood walked me through the everyday business of a legal scholar. It turns out that he often juggles 3 or more cases at once, writing or researching each as he gets inspiration or insight and moving on to another when he hits a wall or is stuck waiting for research material to arrive from another city or the castle archives. I'm beginning to see why his desk is as messy as it is, since he needs to have wildly different documents and books at hoof at any given time. I actually saw him writing a letter with his magic while explaining a case to me, only to drop the letter and start scribbling notes to himself about another case.

Blueblood's work schedule is pretty relaxed – he apparently starts working between 10 and 11 a.m., depending on when he finishes breakfast, and he stops approximately whenever he feels like it. He doesn't expect me in there until he is, but I was there at least a half hour early today anyways. The work itself isn't that hard, and Blueblood is surprisingly good at making pleasant conversation while he works, even if he occasionally wanders off into long, rambling explanations of legal minutiae. So far this job has not been nearly as all-around horrible as I had expected.

I'm sitting in the study and listening to the tap-tap-tap of rain on the windows. It's a pretty nasty day out there – gray clouds, no sun, the works. I'm not even sure why the pegasi schedule rain for Canterlot, since there's hardly any plants in the entire city. You'd think they could just water the few plants and gardens there are, but I guess they believe in being thorough. Very, very thorough.

I frown down at the piece of paper in my hooves. It's a research application for a law library – Blueblood needs their records on some kind of historical law practice for who knows what. I don't understand most of it. Before I came here, I didn't think Blueblood understood the law either, much less possessed the ability to read, but apparently I can be very, very wrong.

Another occupant of the list of things I don't know is preventing me finishing this form. Researcher's Last Name. It actually took me a moment to realize that I did not, in fact, know my employer's full name. You'd think this would have been covered in employee orientation, but there was not, as a matter of fact, any sort of formal orientation process, just Blueblood giving me a run-through of his work. So far, this whole job has been remarkably informal. Yesterday we had a break for tea.

Well, nothing for it. I slip the paper into my saddlebags, push back from the desk and venture out into the hallway in search of my erstwhile employer. He left the study about noon, and I haven't seen him since. I trot through the corridors of the castle, but after 15 minutes of searching, I am no closer to finding the Prince and much closer to being hopelessly lost. In an attempt to avoid this dire and embarrassing fate, I decide to flag down a guard. The unicorn stops and give me a polite nod.

“Can I help you?”

“Er, yes. Would you happen to know where I could find Prince Blueblood?”

He blinks in surprise. I get the sense this isn't a question he gets very often. “Uh... why do you ask?”

“Paperwork for him to fill out.” His eyes widen just a fraction. I bet I can guess what's going through his head right about now – Blueblood does work? 48 hours ago, I'd have wondered the same thing, but now... Now I know that yes, he does work, and quite hard at that. I was shocked yesterday when he told me just how many cases he works on. By his own estimation, about a quarter of all cases that come before the Princesses end up on his desk in one form or another.

It only takes a moment for the famously stoic attitude of the Royal Guard to reassert itself. “He'll probably be in one of the central halls. I believe he was showing a lady around the palace today.” I frown. He didn't mention anything to me, though he did say he would have other responsibilities around the palace. I suppose he thinks showing a noble lady around is a 'responsibility'.

I snort a little louder than I intend to. Figures. While I'm trying to get up to speed and sorting through the mounds of disorganized paperwork he has piled on his desk, he's schmoozing some rich gal. You know what? I take back everything I said about him working hard. He's a lazy bum.

After a moment, I realize the guard is still waiting for me to respond. I dip my head and mumble “thanks” before trotting off towards where I think the center of the castle is. After a few more long, curving hallways and a couple large staircases, I manage to get to a long portrait-filled hallway just in time to catch a glimpse of white fur and a blonde tail disappear around a corner. I break into a gallop and narrowly manage to avoid skidding on the polished floors as I round the corner.

The Prince and a pegasus mare are walking down another hallway side-by-side. I give her a quick once over – probably in her early 30s, pale red coat, gold mane. I can't see her cutie mark under the phenomenally gilded dress she's wearing. Not that I would stare anyways. That's rude. Even from behind, I can tell that she's wearing a lot of makeup.

“Blueblood! Uh, I mean, Prince. And, uh, ma'am.” Blueblood stops and turns, a gleaming, radiant, utterly fake smile on his face. She turns as well, though she seems much less happy. Her smile is, if possible, even faker, and she's clearly straining to remain cheery. I can see her shoot Blueblood a venomous glare when she thinks he's not looking, her mouth twisting for just a second as it attempts to form the grimace it so desperately wants to.

“Yes, how may I – Ah! Ink Blot! What a pleasure.” Just like that. A few words, a few muscle movements in his face, and his smile shifts into something completely different, something decent and friendly and welcoming. “Might I introduce you to Lady Glamor? She's from the east coast, but has come to grace us Canterlot natives with her presence. She specifically asked me to show her around the castle.” I see Glamor's eye twitch as Blueblood casually reinforces her foreignness. I know enough about the nobility to know that those who live in Canterlot look down on those who don't; for somepony not rich or influential enough to live with the elite in Canterlot, having that fact rubbed in their face must be galling. I wonder if he knows he's doing it.

“Lady Glamor, this is Ink Blot, my new personal assistant. So far he's proven himself quite the quick study.” I stand up a little straighter at the praise. Damn straight I'm a quick study. Lady Glamor shoots me a look full of sympathy and pity. I can almost read her thoughts through her eyes – Oh, you poor, miserable soul.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, ma'am. I was just hoping to borrow the Prince for a moment – just a quick bit of paperwork...” I see her eyes light up with hope, as her gaze begins darting around the hallway. Probably looking for the nearest escape route.

The Prince smiles and shakes his head. “That won't be necessary. Our tour is almost finished, in any case.” Glamor's shoulders sag as her hopes are crushed mercilessly, as if by... something... that crushes things without mercy. Okay, so poetry's not my special talent.

The Prince turns back to Glamor, his smile shifting back into ultra-fake mode. “Unless, of course, the lady wished to see more of Canterlot. I'm sure I could make room on my schedule for an exclusive, private tour.” Glamor's eyes widen and she shakes her head furiously before regaining control and slowing the motion to a slow, polite refusal. She waves off Blueblood's offer with a hoof, laughing politely as she does so.

“Oh, I just couldn't take up any more of your time. I sure you have very important things that require your attention, and I've already taken up so much of your time and effort.” She forces a grin. I frown. This woman is clearly uncomfortable and eager to escape, and if my guesses are on the mark, it's not that hard to figure out why. Blueblood must have been rude or tactless, but nopony is this oblivious. He must have realized just how ticked she is, so why is he doing this? Is it possible that all of the horror stories about Blueblood stem from a complete inability to read social cues? Or does he just not care?

His smile widens. “Very well, I suppose I do have responsibilities that I have shirked. Let me just finish up our tour, and then I will show you out.” He starts walking again. I follow him for lack of any better options. After a moment, we come to a pair of wooden doors. Blueblood stops in front of them, seemingly waiting for something. Glamor stops as well, turning and raising an eyebrow at the Prince. He raises an eyebrow back at her. He's... not going to open the door for her, is he? The silent dialogue stretches on interminably, cocked eyebrows and subtle head movements the only sign of communication.

I can't take it. I begin to push between them, heading for the door. “Here, let me, I'll get that...” Blueblood brings a foreleg up and stops me.

“Oh, don't trouble yourself, Ink Blot. That won't be necessary.” I feel my jaw drop open. What is he doing? Call me a chauvinist, but I'm pretty sure I remember my mother teaching me to open a door for a lady. Or any guest, for that matter. I can't believe that Blueblood's social education could somehow be that deficient – but on the other hand, can I really believe that he's doing it on purpose? Most of the stories about the Prince call him self-absorbed, selfish, and snobbish – but intentionally rude, even maliciously so?

It seems Glamor isn't willing to wait to find out. She pushes the door open with a huff and strides through, not bothering to hold it for the Prince. I probably wouldn't either, in her place. Blueblood strides through the door – he holds it for me – as if nothing untoward had happened. “Thank you, my dear. Now, down this hallway-”

“No! No!” Glamor barks, rounding on the Prince. “I have had it with you! You are the poorest excuse for a gentlestallion I have ever met. You are rude, inconsiderate, selfish, and lacking in basic manners and decency! I would rather jump off the highest tower in this castle than spend another minute with you, and I have nothing but sympathy for the poor ponies you inflict your presence on! If I never see you again, it will be far, far too soon for my tastes. Good day to you sir!” She whips her hoof up, and before either the Prince or I can react, the hallway rings with the smack of a hoof striking flesh. Glamor turns and snorts before storming out.

Blueblood simply stands there quietly, gently rubbing his injured cheek. He seems to be lost in thought for a moment before he shrugs.

“Well, I think that went rather well.”

I gape. How... What... How could he possibly think that went 'well'?!? She hit him! Physically struck him! If this is going well, I dread to think what it looks like when things go badly! Attempted assassination? Coup d'etat? I decide to voice my concerns.

“Uh... Sir... How?” Even by Blueblood's relaxed standards of formality, I'm pretty sure I'm out of line. “How in Tartarus could you call that going well?” Oh, I'm definitely out of line now.

“She looked like a kicker.” I didn't think that my jaw could open any wider, but it somehow finds a way to.

“You... expected her to hit you?”

“Expected? Mmm... No, that would be a bit too strong. I merely considered it to be a likely possibility.”

“So, you... knew how angry she was?”

He raises an eyebrow, seemingly amused. “I'd have to be rather blind not to notice.”

I can't bring myself to believe it, but... “You were doing that on purpose?”

“Doing what? Getting under her skin? Oh yes, quite intentionally.” What? What reason could there be for intentionally antagonizing visitors to the castle? Twisted entertainment? A chance to act like a jerk? Did Glamor steal his reservation at a restaurant or kick his dog or something?

I purse my lips. “Um, if you don't mind me asking...”

“I don't. I suspect I know what you're about to ask anyways.” His mouth quirks upwards into a smile. I get the sense he's just waiting for me to say it out loud.

“Why?”

He opens his mouth as if he's about to answer, stops, opens it again, and then closes it once more. He chuckles for a moment, and then turns to face me for the first time. “I didn't get a chance to give you that tour of the castle I promised yesterday, did I? How about right now? I'm still in the mood to walk around some, I think. Don't worry, all of your questions will be answered.”

“Uh... sure.” I nod, and he starts off down the hallway.

“I'll take you down to the outside wing, where the best observation points are, right underneath Aunt Lulu's observatory. Most of these hallways are essentially office space for dignitaries, visiting ambassadors, Guard officers, that sort of thing. Personally, I've always felt these hallways did more valuable service as a place to store the monumental number of paintings the crown owns.” I follow him as the corridor doglegs right and then begins to arc around. Thinking back to my view of the outside of the castle, I think we're heading around the outer edge of the palace, near the edge of Canterlot.

“I suppose I must begin the story at, well, the beginning. Once upon a time, I was a handsome young lad of 17. I was now an adult – more or less – and as such, I was able, for the first time, to participate in Canterlot social events and court functions as an adult, rather than being relegated to the children's table. Society began to see me as an independent stallion, one who would build his own reputation. I began to receive personal invitations to events, asking specifically for me, rather than attending as a hanger-on to an older relative. This was just when I was beginning my legal studies in earnest and starting to learn the true intricacies and fine details of the law. The view off to the right is quite spectacular, by the way.” I glance off to the right, and see that the right-hoof wall has been replaced by a long series of floor to ceiling windows. The view is indeed spectacular, showing the outer wall of Canterlot and the countryside beyond, even through the rain. I make a mental note to return at sunset during clearer weather. I jerk my attention back to the Prince as he begins speaking again.

“And, as young stallions tend to do, I met a young mare. Her name was Crowned Leaf.” He falls silent for a moment, and when I glance over at him, I see a faint smile on his face, his gaze distant. “She was... beautiful. More beautiful than any mare I had ever met. Her mother made decorative magically-altered flower arrangements and she came to help with decorations for some social event as an apprentice. I stumbled into the hall, a little lost, we struck up a conversation...” He trails off again, then shakes his head and continues speaking, his voice steadier.

“We struck an instant camaraderie. She was somewhat timid and shy – her family situation didn't help with this, I suspect. Though wealthy, her family was newer money, only a few generations into its wealth, and they had no aristocratic title. I think she was rather intimidated by the longstanding families and their snobbish attitudes, as well as the pomp and splendor of the royal palace. She looked to me as her guide, hanging on every word I said. She adored me, and I... Well, it sounds callous, but I loved the attention. I loved the way her eyes lit up whenever I showed her some new, grandly decorated room in the palace, the way she listened with every fiber of her being to my stories of royalty and high society. She looked up to me, an experience I'd never had before.” He pushes open a door, letting a damp breeze in. “This observation deck is one of my favorites.”

He leads the way out into a small circular balcony that juts out from the side of the castle. Below us and only a few hundred meters away, I can see the outer wall of Canterlot, small white and silver dots marking the pathways of rain-drenched Guards as they beat their patrols along the top of the wall. Blueblood walks slowly to the edge of the balcony and rests his hooves on the railing. He stares out at the rain for a long while, seemingly lost in his memories.

“It was... blissful. 8 months passed in rapturous joy. We saw each other almost every day, and more than a few gossip rags began spreading rumors of a royal wedding.

“It... did not last. We... weren't suited for each other.” He grimaces, as if the words cause him physical pain, as if the admission is harmful to him. “She thought of me as her prince, with everything that entails. She thought I would sweep her off her feet with grand romantic gestures, take her to all of the grandest social events in Canterlot, that sort of thing. Not to say that I do not enjoy the rich social scene of Canterlot, but... I had my studies and my work to think of as well. She wanted something, and I could not, was not prepared to give it. We became bored, even frustrated with each other. She felt that I wasn't spending enough time with her, and I wanted more space. Luckily, we noticed before it was too late and we did or said something we both regretted.

“We parted amicably, and I still occasionally correspond with her or see her at social events. I was, naturally, quite distraught and heartbroken.” His gloomy expression lifts for a moment as he chuckles. “I'm sure I drove the castle staff to the end of their ropes with my moping. Even princes have their... phases, I suppose.”

I don't say anything, just turn away from him and stare out at the rain. I can certainly see why such an experience would leave its marks, but being rude and dismissive to all mares simply because of one bad teenage relationship? That seems... petty. Way too petty, even for him.

I blink in surprise. Had I just thought that? A week ago, I would have accepted that idea without questioning it. It would have seemed perfectly in character with what I knew of him. But now... I had known Prince Blueblood personally for a little less than 24 hours, and already everything I thought I knew about him had been upended. I was no longer willing to simply accept public opinion, when there was clearly more to him.

“I bet I know what you're thinking.”

I jump. “I...”

“You're thinking that being rude and dismissive to all mares simply because of one bad teenage relationship would be remarkably petty.”

I stare. I had always been told that the legends of unicorn mind-reading were just that – legends – but that was eerie. He laughs, a deep, throaty sound.

“Don't worry. I'm not reading your mind, if that's what you're worried about.” Well, that certainly fills me with confidence. “It's just that the first pony I told that story to had the exact same reaction. Well, almost the same.”

“Almost?”

“He hit me and told me to stop being so daft.” He glances at me, his muzzle twisted in amusement. “Oh, don't look so shocked. Yes, ponies do hit me on occasion – as you have clearly seen – and in this case, it was perfectly justified. Besides, he was my personal bodyguard and self-defense instructor.”

“You were in the Guard?”

“Oh, not officially, though I could have been had I wished. Captain Ironback was the head of my personal guard at the time. He still is, officially, though I rarely require one. When he was assigned to me at the age of 21, he informed me in no uncertain terms that any royal under his protection would be 'hardened', as he put it, so that if I found myself in danger when no guards were at hoof, I would be able to defend myself. Most exhausting six months of my life, but his lessons took hold.” He shakes his head. “But that's besides the point.

“After Crowned Leaf and I... separated... I went through a series of short-term relationships. Rich, aristocratic young mares. I don't remember most of them; they were short-term at best. None of the relationships lasted, which was for the best – half of them wanted a fairy-tale Prince, and had no interest in getting to know the real me. The other half just wanted me for the path I offered into the upper echelons of Canterlot society. They were either trying to use me or had fallen in love with a stallion that didn't exist.” He turns to me and raises an eyebrow. “Is it any wonder that I became bitter?”

He goes on without waiting for an answer. “Eventually, I became fed up, and I decided to do something about it. I started acting rude, boorish and selfish in an attempt to drive these false suitors away. I was quite successful, and as you've seen, I've only gotten better at being worse.” His eyes twinkle and he grins. “And, if I'm being perfectly candid... well, it is somewhat entertaining. I like to think that I teach them a lesson about getting to know a pony rather than falling in love with an ideal, but... I can't say I'm very confident in my success rate.” The humor from a moment ago is gone now, and he turns back to the rain. “It didn't take long for word of my behavior to spread, and the nobility quickly accepted it as the truth. They rarely bother to investigate beyond what gossip tells them. At social events I found myself slipping into my alternate persona more and more, until it just... became routine. And accepted. By everyone.”

I walk up beside him and sit, resting my front hooves on the rail. “Feel good to get that off your chest?”

He smiles a little and turns to look at me. “I suppose it does. There aren't many ponies who've heard that story. I suppose this means I trust you.” He cocks his head. “It's odd, really. I've known you for only a day, and already I trust you a great deal, even though I know almost nothing about you. Why do you suppose that is?”

I open my mouth and close it again in confusion. “I guess... I just have a trustworthy face?”

He shakes his head. “That may be, but I suspect that's not the question I should be asking. I should be asking: who are you, Ink Blot? I did not place the job posting, nor was I responsible for selecting a candidate. All I know about you is that you worked for the Educational Licensing Bureau, are a fast learner, and are very confident in your skills. Beyond that, who are you?”

What are you supposed to say to that? “Well, I'm from Chicoltgo.”

“Really? I'd never have guessed. You don't have a noticeable accent.”

“I guess school drummed that out of me. Besides the ELB, I've worked for the Canterlot Questioner and Trans-Equestria Shipping.”

“I can't say I'm familiar with Trans-Equestria, but the Questioner is a fairly respectable paper. Of course, the high society ponies would never be caught reading such 'plebian' fare.” The sarcasm and amusement in his voice is obvious. “Why did you leave? I am given to understand that you were recommended very highly.”

“I should hope so. I got along great with all of my past employers. I don't know, I just... Get restless? For me, the challenge is when a business is disorganized or is organized, but could be better. Once I fixed things up to the best of my ability, it's just busywork managing things and keeping them running the same. There's no real challenge in that, and it's usually not that hard to train somepony to follow new procedures or organizational systems or what have you. I start feeling... stuck, cooped up, you know. I want to move on, to new places and new challenges. I guess I've never stuck with any one place for that long, almost never more than a year.”

“I see. So... you will likely be moving along in a few months, then?”

“Probably.” Did his voice... catch? Just for a moment, as if the idea of me moving on... made him sad. I mean, I guess that he probably doesn't talk with that many ponies, so I can see how he'd want company, but we barely know each other. It's not like I'm his best friend or anything. We watch the rain in silence for a few more minutes.

“I believe you had something you wanted to ask me?”

I blink and shake my head to clear my thoughts. I'd completely forgotten why I actually went looking for him. “Ah, yes. I was just filling out some paperwork, and I was wondering: what's your last name?”

“You really don't know?” He raises an eyebrow when I shake my head. “Well, I suppose that's understandable. The royal name isn't used very often. It's Cosmos, in any case.”

I nod and take the paper and a quill out of my saddlebag and scribble the name in. “The royal name? So all members of the royal family have the same last name?”

“Correct. Those who marry or are adopted into the royal family are also permitted to use it, so, for example, Captain Armor would be entitled to use the name Shining Armor Sparkle-Cosmos.” Somehow I can literally hear him pronounce the hyphen. “Being permitted to use the royal name is quite an honor, as you can imagine.”

“Then why don't the Princesses – or other ponies, for that matter – use it more?”

“It's... not as convenient as one would think. Being addressed by title and last name is less than useful when more than one pony bear the same name and address. For example, if I asked you to take a message to Princess Cosmos, who would you take it to?”

I open my mouth to answer, then close it again. “I... don't know.”

“Exactly. That could mean Auntie Tia, Auntie Lulu, or cousin Cadence. There are at least two other 'Prince Cosmos' that I know of. That is why I am usually addressed by my first name, or my full name, Blueblood Elegance Cosmos.”

I snort. “Your middle name is Elegance?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Yes. Is there a problem? I believe it is a dignified middle name, one to be proud of.”

I wave a hoof. “No, it's just... It fits you. I wouldn't have expected it to be so... on target.”

The corner of his mouth twitches upwards. “Would you like to know the Princesses' middle names? They rarely use them.”

I can't keep an excited grin off my face, and I lean in like I'm being let in on some big secret. I'm sure this is something I could just look up in the public records, but here it feels as if I'm being let into a confidence.

“Well, Celestia's is Corona.”

“Celestia Corona Cosmos?” I snicker.

“Yes. Don't call her Cici, though – she hates it. I'm not saying she would send you to the Moon, but...”

“Yes? But what?” I lean in even closer, so close that we're only a few inches apart.

“Well, the last pony who did it... they never found the body.” Blueblood's trying, and failing, to stifle laughter. I can't resist joining in on the jest, the imagined punishments meted out to this hapless pony.

“I bet she banished him! Or threw him in a dungeon! Or sent him to the Moon! No, I bet she banished him, threw him in a dungeon in the place she banished him to, and then sent the dungeon to the Moon!” Blueblood does laugh at this, and we both collapse against the railing, our bodies heaving with laughter. After we calm down, I lean back against the rail, still chuckling and wiping the tears from my eyes. “And what about Princess Luna?”

“Selena. Princess Luna Selena Cosmos.”

“Oh wow, that's a serious name. That's, like, heavy-duty right there.”

“I know. It makes her sound so serious and grave, like a graceful but coldly determined monarch. The contrast is quite amusing.” Blueblood leans his head back, peering up at the stormy clouds overhead. He grins. “I have not had a laugh like that in quite a while. My thanks.” He holds his hoof out, and I stare at it in confusion for more than minute before the gesture clicks.

I return the hoofbump – I just hoofbumped a Prince! – and smile. “Any time, Blueblood. Any time.”

Chapter 3: In Which Our Hero Hears a Story and Tells a Story, Both of Cutie Marks

I'm reclining in one of the chairs in Blueblood's sitting room, a stack of papers resting on my legs, a pencil in my hoof, and a cup of tea sitting on a silver platter on the table next to me. Blueblood's sitting in the chair to my right, reading a big thick law book and idly stirring his tea with his magic. It is our afternoon tea break. I have gotten quite used to them over the past week, and the tea here is excellent. Maybe I should start writing a tea break into my employment contracts in the future. I sigh and lean back. I have been doing this paperwork on auto-pilot for the last fifteen minutes. It is a bunch of forms subscribing to some new academic journal, as well as the necessary forms to get the fees paid for out of the royal treasury. Useful, certainly, but the government seems to be bound and determined to hold on to their money, based on how hard they are making it to charge a simple subscription fee.

Hey, I said I was good at paperwork and organization. I did not say I never get bored of it.

I glance over at Blueblood. First name basis now, for both of us. “Whatcha reading?”

He shuts the book and takes a sip of tea, peering at me over the rim of his cup. “Researching draconic inheritance cases from Equestrian history, looking for any unusual precedents.”

“Why? Case?”

“Exactly. It seems there is an extremely wealthy dragon who lives out in Las Pegasus. Movie producer, director, that sort of thing. One of the real greats. One of the advantages of living as long as a dragon means that you can take the time and wait for the perfect cast and moment for a particular movie. He recently rewrote his will, and his sons are taking the opportunity to sue for a greater share of their father's wealth.”

“Really? They're suing their own father?”

“Quite. I suspect their Hearth's Warming Eve dinners will be awkward for quite a long time. I am given to understand that dragons can hold grudges for a very long time. In any case, the father wishes to divide his wealth equally between his two sons. The elder son claims that, as the oldest, he should receive a greater share, while the younger son, who is physically larger, claims that he should receive the larger share, as appropriate to his greater size and thus, greed.”

“So, uh... who wins?”

“Well, under dragon law, any of them could win. Technically, the parents – the father, in this case – do have the right to determine inheritance as they wish. However, dragons traditionally do give a greater part of the inheritance to the eldest child, so the older son does have at least a cultural and traditional basis for his claim. On the other hoof, there have been successful legal suits – and I use the word 'suit' loosely – supporting the younger son's position. Some traditions of dragon justice have respected the rights of the larger dragon to have a commensurate horde.”

I frown. “But what about Equestrian law?”

He smiles and nods. “Very good, Ink. You'll make a legal scholar yet. Under Equestrian law, it's quite simple. The father wins. Equestrian law recognizes the right of the parents to determine inheritance, the case was open and shut to begin with. I just felt I should be thorough and make sure that there weren't any historical precedents that might be relevant.”

“Oh.” Dang, I was hoping that that would keep me interested for longer, but it seems he is done talking, and I do not know enough about the subject to keep the conversation going. I turn back to the paperwork.

“You're bored, aren't you?”

I sigh. “Yeah.”

He smiles. “Here, give it to me. I'll take care of it, you drink your tea. It's going to go cold. This is a tea break; you need to actually take a break, you know.”

I open my mouth, then smile and hold the papers out to him. “You're right. Here.” He takes it in his magic and replaces his cup of tea. I pick mine up and take a sip as he starts scribbling away. I lean back against the chair and drink deeply from my tea, glancing over at Blueblood, the tip of his tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth as he concentrates on the forms. Stupid unicorns and their stupid magic. Makes it looks so easy, probably because it is.

My curiosity's been bothering me for the last few days, so I decide to indulge it. “How did you get into this?”

He turns away, still writing. “What do you mean?”

“How'd you get into law? How'd you get interested in it?”

He smiles. “The same way I got this.” He shifts and leans on his right side, pointing to the gold and blue compass rose on his flank with one hoof.

“Your cutie mark?”

“Indeed.” He raises an eyebrow. I roll my eyes.

“Well, come on, tell me the story, then. You can't just leave me hanging like that.”

He laughs. “If you insist. Ponies are often confused by my cutie mark. I was once asked if I was the palace cartographer. I've always thought of it representing how the law binds a nation – or nations – together, which seems fitting, since it was international law that earned me my mark.”

I leaned on to the table, setting my tea cup down. Blueblood's cutie mark had come from international law... stuff? We'd certainly been doing some international law, though a lot of his cases seemed to be domestic.

“I was 9 and a half years old at the time. I remember that fact quite clearly. A relative of mine – a distant uncle I can't be sure how many times removed named Quick Mind – took me on a trip to the Griffon Empire. He was there to renew a long-standing treaty with the Griffon Empire, one of many, and he brought me along. My parents thought it would be a good chance for me to see the world and experience another culture. The trip was quite long – my uncle was cursed with an extreme fear of flying, so we were forced to take a regular carriage, which extended the journey a great deal. It was not long after we had set out that I had exhausted all possible sources of amusement. My uncle was not exactly the best conversationalist, and I had either finished or grown bored with all of the books and toys I had brought with me. The scenery was pretty, but not very interesting for a colt of 9 and a half.

“In desperation for something, anything, to do, I started reading my uncle's books. Despite his lack of skill at small talk, he was a prolific reader, and had brought an extensive collection of books on history, law and politics with him. Surprisingly, most of all to myself, I was enraptured. I had enjoyed my history and governance studies with a tutor, but these books were something else. The level of detail, the scope, the breadth of subject matter... I was thrilled with every new chapter. I didn't understand all of it, and a great deal of the vocabulary was beyond me, but my uncle was able to help me.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Really? Dry law books fascinated you? You sound like a rather dull child.” He chuckles and waves a hoof at me.

“Don't be so shocked. I can be scholarly when the mood strikes me. Our first week in the Griffon Empire was spent sightseeing. If you ever get the chance, I highly recommend visiting the Empire – it's a bit stark, but the scenery is incredible, and there's so much history there. Besides oohing and aahing over the sights, I spent my time putting my new knowledge to use, or, at least, as much as I could. I suspect I annoyed the tour guides a great deal with my constant pestering questions about Griffon culture, government, and law. My uncle thought it was all terrifically amusing.” I was resting my head on my hooves by this point, my tea cup nearly forgotten. Blueblood was a surprisingly good story teller, his little asides adding a friendly touch to what could otherwise have been a rather dull story.

“Once the negotiations actually began, I shocked my caretakers by asking to sit in and listen. As before, most of it went way above my head, but I treasured the bits I could understand. I felt that I was being allowed into an adult world, given access to adult secrets. I felt very proud of how mature I was.” He raises an eyebrow, humor seeping into his tone. “After a few days, Quick Mind was kind enough to let me help by carrying and fetching books, notes, that sort of thing.”

I shove a hoof into my mouth to keep myself from laughing. “Really? He made you his gofer?”

Blueblood shakes his head and winks. “Not at all. He granted me the honor of being his gofer. Mostly so he didn't have to do it, the lazy codger, but still, I was thrilled. I felt that everypony was relying on me.

“The negotiations dragged on for a few days. The griffons had decided to argue for more favorable terms regarding taxation in some border towns, and my uncle wanted to simply re-ratify the treaty on the same grounds as before. They got to arguing over some specifics of Equestrian international trade law and tariffs, and it seemed that they weren't making any progress. At that moment, I remembered that I'd read something about that the night before. I quietly crept out – not that I needed to bother. Griffons can be quite... liberal in their speaking volume. I dashed to my room as fast as my hooves would carry me and frantically began searching through the books I had been reading in search of the passage I wanted. Once I found it, I hurried back and, with a very self-satisfied grin on my face, plopped the tome on the table.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What did they do?”

“They stared at me in surprise. I'm not sure the griffon actually knew that I had been there the entire time, and Uncle Mind was completely taken aback. It was quite awkward for a few moments as we all just stared at each other. When I realized they didn't understand what I was trying to do, I decided I'd have to show them.”

He smiles and takes a sip of his tea. “All of a sudden, I remember being more terrified than I had ever been in my life. It was like taking a test with the teachers watching over your shoulder. I remember my legs shaking so hard I thought they would fall off, and my throat seemed to have suddenly invited the desert in for a visit. I managed to get up onto the table without falling over, evidently through some form of miracle, and opened the book to the passage I wanted. And then, I read it and explained it as best I could. As I kept reading, I felt myself get more confident. I could do this. I knew this. Oh, I didn't understand it all, certainly, but I understood enough. When I finished, the room was quiet for... a very, very long time. Or at least it seemed that way.”

He chuckles. “I suspect the griffon was still trying to get over the fact that I'd been there the whole time. Uncle Mind was shocked as well. After a moment, though, he broke into a big smile and slapped me on the withers. 'Blueblood,' he said, 'you're a natural.' At this point, I think I stammered something incomprehensible. Then he said that he wasn't the only one who thought so and pointed to my new cutie mark.”

I raise an eyebrow. “What happened then?”

He smirks. “I jumped about a foot in the air in surprise and fell off the table.” We both laugh. The image of a pint-sized Blueblood squealing in surprise and falling off a table, hooves flailing and eyes wide in shock, is hilarious. After settling down enough to breathe normally, I quickly gulp down the rest of my tea. It's cold, but it doesn't bother me too much. “What about you?”

“Hm?”

He gestures to the scroll, inkwell and quill on my flank. “Your cutie mark. How did you get it?”

I shrug. “Oh, it's, uh, well... nothing so special as that. I'm not sure you'd be interested.”

“Are you proud of it?”

“Am I proud of what?”

“How you got it. Your cutie mark. Are you proud of how you got it?”

“I...” I stop. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

“Then I want to hear it. If you're proud of how you got it, then it must matter to you a great deal. And if it does, then it's an important part of who you are, and I'm interested in hearing it. A story can be pedestrian or unremarkable and yet be extremely interesting, just as an extremely unlikely or exotic story can manage to be very boring.” He refills his teacup. “So spill.”

I blink. The slang catches me off guard. He frowns at me. “The beans. Spill the beans. That is what ponies say when they want someone to talk or tell the truth, correct? I didn't think I was that out of touch.”

I shake my head. “No, no, that's it.” I clear my throat. “So, I got mine a little earlier than you did, I was a little under nine, I think. My family was getting ready for a vacation – roadtrip to the coast, then beaches for a week. Unfortunately, my parents had procrastinated until the last minute on all the preparations, and we had a lot to do. Packing, renting a carriage, hiring a sitter for our dog and to watch the house, that sort of thing. Plus, my father had a business meeting the afternoon of the day we were planning to leave and my mother had a doctor's appointment. My parents were pretty freaked out, since they weren't sure if we'd be able to leave on time or if we'd need to delay our departure or even postpone the trip.”

“I sense a 'but' coming.”

I crack a smile. “Two nights before we were supposed to leave, I decided that I wanted to do something to help. Unfortunately, I wasn't old enough to actually, you know, do any of the errands on my own, so I decided to make a schedule for my parents. I got a map, a bunch of notepaper and some pencils, and I sat down at my desk to try to figure things out. I... went through quite a few drafts. But eventually, I managed to make it work. I had a pretty good sense by then of how long it took to get around the city, and I knew where all the stops we needed to make were. So I just started with the most urgent tasks, figured out where and when my parents would have to go to handle those, and then kind of branched outwards to the less urgent stuff. I ended up making an annotated map, with little notes drawn on it with arrival and departure times and routes and stuff drawn on it.”

Blueblood nods appreciatively. “Sounds professional.”

I rub the back of my neck. “Not so much. I mean, I was 8; it was kind of a messy scrawl, and my notes were a little sloppy, but it got the point across. I got kinda carried away, actually... I liked the little notes I wrote so much that I decided to add more notes on separate sheets of paper on what we should do if a stop took longer or shorter than we thought, and I just... didn't stop writing. I ended up falling asleep at my desk, and my mother found me when she came in to wake me up in the morning. I didn't even notice I'd gotten my cutie mark until my mother pointed it out to me.”

“Did it work? Did you leave on time?”

“Oh yeah, it worked great. That was when I realized that I wanted to do this more. I wanted to organize things, make things go smoothly. I've just... kept doing that.”

Blueblood smiles. “A very nice story. How were the beaches?”

“It rained. But it was great all the same. Where'd you go on your last vacation?”

He pauses and furrows his brow. “Hmmm... I can't remember.”

“When was your last vacation?”

He frowns and refills his cup of tea. “I can't remember that either. Several years at least.”

I gape. “You haven't been on a vacation for years? Do you even leave the castle?”

He rolls his eyes. “Yes, I leave the castle. I attend social events, balls, galas, luncheons, dinners, brunches, christenings, grand openings, charity functions, auctions, holiday parties, and on occasion, parades. But, I don't... I don't leave Canterlot that much.”

“Why... Why not?” Is he... scared to leave? Why else would he stay here so long without getting out at least a little? The castle's super-fancy, but anypony would go stir-crazy eventually.

He shrugs. “My world is here. My work, my passion. Nopony knows Scales' real identity, and it will stay that way. As such, I cannot work in the public eye – I do all of my business by correspondence. I can't just go out and announce my secret identity; I've carefully cultivated it over years to allow me to work without interference from my social life or reputation. And besides, out there they know me, or think they do. I'm not blind to what my actions have led to, what everypony thinks of me. I'm unlikely to be well-received among the upper class, here in Canterlot or elsewhere, and my status as a member of the royal family means that most of the populace would be ill at ease around me. And so, I stay here. There's nothing for me out there.”

I'm left speechless. I believe him, but at the same time I can't believe it. To stay in one place so long... I'd go nuts. “Isn't it... hard? Stifling? To see the same things, day in and day out?”

He chuckles. “Clearly you've never been lost in the castle. I'm fairly certain one could spend days trying to find their way out.” He shrugs. “I keep busy all the same. My work is always interesting, and cases are rarely alike. For all its vapidity, I actually do enjoy Canterlot social life, and there's no shortage of things to do in the city.”

“I guess.” I shrug. “Well, next time I take a vacation, Blueblood, you're welcome to come with me.”

He smiles at me softly. “Thank you, Ink. I'd like that.” He extends his hoof, and this time, I don't hesitate before returning the hoofbump.

Author's Note

Sorry for taking longer than with Chapter 2. I try to stay a chapter ahead, and I was out of town for a few days, which prevented me from finishing Chapter 4.

Chapter 4: In Which Our Hero Witnesses the Effects of Alcohol and Hatches a Plan

Ugh. I toss. And turn. And toss some more. Sleep is just not coming tonight. I sigh and sit up, rubbing my eyes. A glance out the window shows that the moon has already begun to set. After midnight, then. I'm going to be feeling this for the rest of the day. I fall back on my pillow. For some reason, its cloud-like softness is no comfort tonight.

Toss. Turn. Groan. I roll over and shove my face into the pillow. Unsurprisingly, this does not produce the desired result of sleep. I sigh and shake my head. Stuff it. Time to admit defeat. I roll out of bed and shake myself awake. Might as well do a little work. I'll either get something done or fall asleep in the process.

The castle halls are near silent at night. I pass a single guard, the light shining from his horn nearly blinding in the darkness. I squint and shield my eyes as I pass, and we both mutter “night” to each other. I can find my way to Blueblood's rooms without any trouble now; amazing what two weeks can do for you.

I decide to pass on knocking at the door; I think I'm known well enough to come and go freely, and I don't want to wake the Prince up. The door swings quietly open and I trot through, making sure to avoid bumping into anything.

I frown. The light in Blueblood's study is on; I can see it shining under the door. That's odd. Did he forget to turn off the light when he went to bed? I wend my way through the chairs and table and open the study door. What I see stops me in my tracks.

Blueblood is sitting at his desk, his head in his hooves. His mane is disheveled, a far cry from its normal perfectly styled self. A half-empty bottle and a small glass are sitting on the desk in front of him. It seems like he's actually cleared off part of the desk to make room.

“Uh... Blueblood? What are you doing up so late?”

He glances up at me and blinks twice in surprise. “Huh? Oh... hello, Ink.” He pokes at the glass with his hoof, rocking it back and forth along one edge. “Care to join me? This stuff is pretty good... whatever it is.”

I take a few cautious steps towards him. “You don't know what you're drinking?”

“No... Or, I don't know now. Maybe I did then. I told the cooks that I needed to... let's see... what did I say... oh yes... I wanted to get hammered as fast as possible, and they gave me this. It's... not labeled, but it's... uh... good. Better now that when I started.”

“Yeah, I bet...” I pull a chair over and sit next to him. I pick up the bottle and sniff at it before recoiling. Whatever it is, it's strong alright.

“Here, why don't you drink with me?” He starts rummaging in a desk drawer, presumably for a glass.

“Uh... sure.” This close, I can smell the alcohol on the Prince. I don't particularly want to drink this stuff – I'm not sure my internal organs will survive – but I also don't want to make him mad if he's this intoxicated, so I guess I'll play along. He eventually comes up with a clean-looking glass and pours me some of whatever it is. He's surprisingly steady, given how much he appears to have drank. He pours himself another helping as well, before picking up his glass.

“How about a toast?” He raises his glass higher, staring curiously at the liquid within. I raise mine to my lips. “To... to... ah, buck it.” My eyes widen at the sudden profanity as he throws his drink back. Unfortunately, I choose that moment to do the same. The drink burns my mouth and throat as it goes down, but it never manages to make it all the way as I attempt to spit it out in surprise. The end result is a swirling, burning sensation through my mouth, throat and sinuses that sends me into a coughing fit. Blueblood claps me on the back a few times until my trachea decides to cancel its revolution.

After a moment, I manage to splutter in a manner resembling speech. “Don't... don't do that!”

“Do what?”

“Curse! Or interrupt me when I'm drinking. Especially not cursing when drinking, that's just... weird, coming from you.”

He regards his glass curiously, turning it side to side in his hoof. “Yes, I suppose it is.” He downs the rest of his drink and begins to refill it. I lay my hoof on top of his to stop him.

“You know, it looks like you've had quite a lot. Maybe that's enough?”

“A lot? Yes, I suppose I have. This was full when I started.” I feel my eyes widen. If he's drank this much, then we might be past the drunk stage and into the alcohol poisoning zone.

“Are you feeling okay? Should I go get someone?”

He shakes his head. “Oh, I don't think that will be necessary. I'm intoxicated, not dying. I started drinking several hours ago.” He pauses and stares out the windows, his eyes unfocused. He leans back against his chair, and his entire body seems to go limp. For a moment, the expression on his face is one of extreme pain, mixed with sorrow. “It seemed... appropriate. Necessary. And I wanted to.”

My voice is very quiet. “Why?”

He slides an envelope over to me. I pick it up and flip it open, and a small card falls out. It's white, trimmed with gold borders that have green vines growing around them. I only need to read the first line.

You are cordially invited to the wedding of Mr. Silver Gilt to Ms. Crowned Leaf, to take place on the 1st of August, 1023RC.

I sigh and put the card back on the desk. “I'm... I'm sorry. Watching your first sweetheart get married...” I gulp. “It must be hard. Do you still... feel anything for her?” He glances over towards me, an expression of mild surprise on his face.

“What? Oh, no, not at all. I have long since moved on from Crown. And I am happy for her. Really, I am.” He says it like he's trying to convince himself. He finishes filling his glass and takes another drink.

I smirk. “You don't seem like it.” I frown. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that.” Blueblood waves his hoof in a semi-dismissive fashion, but doesn't say anything. “Well... Then what's the matter? Is the guy a total jerk or something?”

“I wouldn't know. I've never met him. I've... never met anyone.” I frown.

“What do you mean? Of course you've met ponies. You've met me, haven't you?”

“Not like this!” His voice breaks, and he nearly slams his glass down on the desk. I put a comforting forehoof on his shoulder.

“Why don't you explain it to me?”

He takes a deep breath, a shuddering, rattling sound that seems to shake his whole body. “She's getting married. She's moving on with her life. She's getting married, she's got a good business, she has friends, connections... Her life went somewhere. And mine... didn't.”

“What do you mean? What about Scales? The brilliant legal scholar, remember? Seems like that's something worthwhile.” He picks his glass up again and tips it in my direction.

“I suppose you have a point.” He sighs and finishes off his drink. He goes to pour another, but I reach out with my other foreleg and stop him.

“Talk first, drink later, okay?” He sighs and puts the bottle down, before turning and giving me a wan smile.

“That sounds good. Seems you're a good influence on me. I...” His head droops, staring down at his hooves. “I don't have any friends.”

I scoff. “Oh come on, you have loads of friends, I mean, there's... Well, there's that captain who trained you, right? And I've seen you being really friendly with the castle staff.”

He shrugs. “Not really. I mean, I get along well with them, and we're courteous to each other, and I say hi, how are you, how's the family, but the staff and I aren't friends. Masters and servants just don't associate – I don't see them when they're not working or spend time with them outside of the castle. And I only see Ironback occasionally. I don't need a guard all that often, so he's usually off guarding some statue or whatever it is guards who aren't protecting somepony important do.”

“Well, what about the nobles? You know, those fancy high society ponies.”

“Hah! As if! I mean, I can't stand half of them anyways.” He's talking much more animatedly now, waving and gesticulating with his hooves. “And the other half wouldn't have anything to do with me! They've bought into the legend of 'Prince Badblood' so completely that they're convinced I'm exactly as bad and selfish and rude as I seem! They avoid me like the plague. And even if they were willing to try to get to know me, their reputations wouldn't survive it. Associating with me would seem to condone my behavior – it'd be social suicide!”

“Well, why not... try acting differently? Look, I've gotten to know you these last two weeks, and I like you.” I grin and punch him lightly in the shoulder. “You're not as bad as you look, you know that? Why not just let them see that?”

Blueblood shakes his head vigorously. “It won't matter. Don't you get it – it doesn't matter. My fame is... alive, or something. Ponies who've never met me hear it and believe it.” He reaches out and pours himself another drink. “I'm too... too good at being bad. It doesn't matter how I act, because they just see what they want. They'll be espec... expet...” he clears his throat, “expecting me to act bad, so they'll find something to convince them that I'm really like that, and then they'll spread the story to somepony else, and on it goes.” He downs half of his drink and rests his chin on his desk.

“I don't have any friends. And I never will.”

“Hey, it's not that bad. It's going to be alright.” I lay a comforting forehoof on the back of his neck. I normally wouldn't do this with an employer, but Blueblood is more than just my boss – he's my friend. Right now, he's a friend who needs my help.

“Do you know why I don't go on vacations?”

I blink at the non-sequiter. “No, I don't think you told me.”

“I have nopony to go with.” He sighs. “No friends. I could go and sit on a beach or something, I guess, but that's no fun alone. Nothing to do but listen to other ponies having fun, and that's, like, not fun at all. I want to go on vacations, really. I do. I want to, but... there was never anypony to, to do anything with.” He makes a vague, dismissive gesture with one hoof. “Ironback's no fun. Guards never are. They're always so stuffy, and prepared, like, all the time, like they can't relax for a minute, because that's when the ninja ponies and their, uh... their... tamed timberwolves! Their timberwolves will jump out of a closet and attack, or whatever it is guards prepare for.”

He sighs again. “'M sorry. I shouldn't... shouldn't do this to you. You're not here to listen to me cry. And it's not professional. I think.”

By this time, I've started running my hoof through his mane and down his back, the way my mom used to do when I was feeling down as a kid. “It's okay.” I smile at him. “I'm your friend, right? This is what friends are for.”

He smiles, just a little bit. “Thank you. I just... I just saw the letter, and it hit me how long it has been since I had a real friend, or any kind of relationship. I throw myself into my work, but I'm... I'm so lonely. You know something? Before you came, I could go a day without speaking to anypony but the servants when they brought in tea and cleaned the rooms. Just me and my study and my books and my papers and my laws. And all I could think of was those years of being alone, and no friends, and no special somepony, and, and...” He sighs and mutters quietly. “I haven't been in a relationship since Crown and I separated. Not a serious one, at any rate. Nothing. No special pony out there for me, nopony to talk to about my work or share dinner with or anything. The last time I was kissed was the day before Crown and I... well, since then.”

I give him a deadpan look. “I'm not going to kiss you, no matter how long it has been.”

He chuckles a little bit at that. “I suppose that would break some kind of law. I should know.” He casts his eyes downward, and his voice loses what little levity it had. “How about a hug?” These four words come out in a pathetic, pleading tone, almost a whimper.

I smile. “I think that's okay.” I pick him up and lean him against me – given the amount of alcohol he's consumed, that seems to be about all he's capable of. He rests his head on my shoulder, and I wrap my forehooves around his neck and resume stroking his mane. “It's going to be okay. You're going to be just fine. You'll make friends. Lots of them, I bet. You just need to believe in that. You're witty, and charming, and polite, and enthusiastic about your work, and ponies like that. Now come on, let's get you to bed, shall we?” I slide out of the chair and pull him with me. He's a little wobbly, but seems steady enough to walk. I throw one of his forelegs over my shoulder and start walking towards his bedroom as he leans against me. He stumbles once or twice, but doesn't fall, which is fortunate, since I'm not sure I'm strong enough to hold him up if he had. His head hangs low, and he doesn't say anything as we walk through the sitting room and into his bedroom. I give him a small push to help him get into bed, where he simply collapses atop the covers, not even bothering to get under them.

I smirk. “You better get some sleep. In the morning, you're probably going to have quite the headache.”

He groans. As I turn to go, I hear the rustling of covers and turn to see he's raised his head just a bit. “Ink...”

“Yes, Blueblood?”

“Earlier... when you said you were my friend... did you mean it?”

I smile at him. “Of course I meant it.”

He falls back onto his pillows. “Good. You're my best friend...” I close the door behind me as I leave.

Best friend? I suppose I am. A month ago I would have dreaded that title more than termination, but now... Now, I'm almost proud of it. It feels good. Yes, we are friends, but we're more than that. We're best friends.

I should probably go back to my room and try to get some sleep, but I don't much feel like it. I stroll into Blueblood's study and take a seat in his chair. I glance at the bottle of alcohol before pouring myself a little. Well, why not? I sip the beverage – carefully this time – as I flick through some of the other letters sitting on Blueblood's desk.

Response from a law library, probably a form letter.

Some kind of official document, looks like court dates for an upcoming case he's working on.

A thank you card from some rich pony whose name I don't recognize, thanking him for attending a party a week ago. I hadn't been there, but from the strained nature of her compliments I'm guessing he was in full form as 'Prince Badblood'.

Some business mail. Fashion experts predict this year's theme will be 'insight', whatever that means, and boutiques and designers everywhere are scrambling to meet consumer demand. A gem mine in Canterlot mountain is in foreclosure, looking for new ownership. A long-awaited merger between two carriage-making companies has fallen through.

I flick through a few more letters before one catches my eye. I open it and read it quickly, and then again, more slowly this time. I set the letter down on the desk and sip my drink, thinking hard.

I sit that way for a long while, just sipping my drink, leaning back in Blueblood's chair, and thinking. Thinking, thinking, thinking.

And then, I get an idea.

Chapter 5: In Which Our Hero Explains His Plan and Puts it into Action

I shuffle nervously outside the massive doors to the throne room. This seemed like a much better idea last night, when I had some strong alcohol in my system. Now, the idea of walking up to a nearly all-powerful monarch and telling her you want to socialize her nephew is sounding worse and worse by the minute. The two guards standing stoically in front of the doors aren't helping; I know that they've just got their 'guard faces' on, but it feels like they're judging me.

I take a deep breath and glance back at my saddlebags, then at the grandfather clock down the hall. I should have everything I need to convince the Princess, and given how much he had to drink last night, I'd be surprised if Blueblood saw the sun at all today, at least before noon.

I fidget. What's taking them so long? I must have been standing here for at least an hour. I glance at the clock again to see that it's only been 5 minutes.

“Calm down, will ya?” I jerk in surprise, before turning to the guard who spoke. He glances at me from under his helmet, before returning his gaze to the wall in front of him. “Land's sake, you're making me nervous.”

I sigh. “Sorry. Just nervous.”

“Don't be.” He smirks. “You'll be fine.”

At that moment, the double doors open a crack and a servant pokes his head through. “Next.”

I take a deep breath, nod to the servant, and stride through. The throne room looks like every picture I've ever seen. Light streams in through the many stained-glass windows, casting multi-colored pools of light over the pink carpet leading to the ornate golden throne. The top of the throne stretches all the way to the roof, where it spreads outward into an upside-down golden cone, inlaid with murals of the sun, sky and stars and hung with purple tapestries.

I walk up the pathway, careful to keep my steps even. Princess Celestia sits patiently on the throne, waiting for me with a calm, benevolent smile that succeeds in calming my nerves a little. Her regalia is polished until it glows, and I have to resist the urge to squint against the reflected sunlight as I step up onto the platform in front of the throne. The Princess leans towards me, her smile widening slightly.

“Good morning, my little pony. What can I do for you?”

I bow, taking the chance to take another deep breath to compose myself. “It is an honor to meet you, Princess. My name is Ink Blot.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Ink Blot.” Her voice is soft, soothing, and motherly. “You recently started working at the castle, correct? I knew your name was familiar.”

“That's right, Princess. It was just a few weeks ago.”

“I thought so. I hope you've been settling in well. Now, how can I help you?”

I lick my lips. “Er, well, you see, Princess, it's not so much about me, as it is about your nephew, Prince Blueblood.”

Her eyes narrow, and she sighs. “What has he done now?”

My eyes widen, and I resist the urge to wave my hooves. It suddenly occurs to me that ponies who have had the misfortune to encounter Badblood probably come to the Princess all the time. I should have thought of that earlier. “Oh no, it's nothing he's done! It's something he hasn't done, actually.”

Her eyes narrow even further. “You have been receiving your pay, haven't you? I didn't think the Prince was in charge of that.”

I shake my head. “No, it's not that either.”

She sits back and gives me another smile. “I'm sorry for presuming. Why don't you explain?”

I nod. “I'm not sure if you know this, but the Prince doesn't have any friends, and from the sound of things, this situation isn't going to change in the near future.”

She sighs again. “I am aware. I have tried to speak to the Prince about the issue, but his behavior has yet to change. He remains as isolated and shut-in as he was.”

“I think the Prince is the victim of his own success. He's so convinced that other ponies will only believe his public persona that he doesn't even bother trying to get to know them. Last night, we were talking, and I had an idea. I think I have a way to change this.”

The Princess raises an eyebrow. “I'm eager to hear it. If it will help my nephew experience the magic of friendship, then I am all ears.”

I reach into my saddlebags and pull out an envelope. “This. It's a letter from a pony named Legal Speak, who says he's the mayor of a town called Saddlefield. It seems they're having a property dispute, and he was hoping for Blueblood's advice – or rather, Scales' advice – on the matter. I did a little research – Saddlefield is about as small town as it gets. Not poor, but it's not rich either, and it's a pretty long way from Canterlot. I figure if there's any town where nopony has heard of the Prince, this is it.”

Celestia leans towards me. “What do you propose?”

“I propose Scales handles this case, except this time, he does so in the flesh. This'll give Blueblood a chance to get out of the castle and interact with some ponies who have never heard of him. He'd probably enjoy a few weeks away from Canterlot, and I think that he could easily make friends if he could get away from his... reputation.”

“Do you really think that he will take this opportunity to make friends?”

I nod. “I do. He's actually a pretty nice pony when he's not putting on his bad face, and I think he could make friends easily. He's just... crushed under the weight of his reputation and doesn't think that he can get past it. I think that a change of scenery would be just what he needs to put that behind him.”

“It seems you've given this a lot of thought. Tell me, why are you so eager to help my nephew? There aren't many ponies that would go out of their way for him.”

“Well...” I shuffle awkwardly in place. “I've given it some thought, and... Even if Blueblood doesn't think he has many friends, he's at least got one. Me. And I want to help him out.”

Celestia smiles at me. “I can think of no better reason to do this than that. Go, do whatever you need to.” She winks at me. “I'm sure that my sister and I can manage Equestria while the Prince is gone – at least for a while.”

I grin and snap off a salute. I'm not really sure if a salute is proper when dealing with royalty, but I don't bother to stop and try to figure it out as I run out of the throne room. There's so much to do! I have to pack, dash off some letters letting some ponies know that 'Scales' will be out of the office for a while, wrap up a few unfinished pieces of business, send a letter to the mayor of Saddlefield, purchase train tickets, maybe arrange for a carriage... And convince the Prince. I skid to a stop. Horseapples. I never actually stopped to think about whether the Prince would go along with this. What if he hates the idea or refuses to go?

I snort and set my jaw in what feels like a determined scowl. It doesn't matter. This is for his own good. I'm going to see that he gets out of the castle and makes some friends if it costs me all of my vacation days.

I push the door to Blueblood's suite open and knock on the bedroom door. “Blueblood? Are you awake yet?” A muffled groan answers me. “Well, make yourself decent, I'm coming in.”

A few beams of sunlight stream through the partially-drawn curtains, falling on the four-poster bed and illuminating the stallion sprawled awkwardly atop the covers. Blueblood groans again and draws a tangled lump of covers more tightly over himself. I roll my eyes. “Come on, it's time to get up. You've slept far too long already.”

He pushes himself up, blinking bleary, bloodshot eyes. “Urg... I feel as if a stack of my books landed right on my head...”

I chuckle. “You crawled pretty far into that bottle last night.”

He sighs and wipes his eyes with a hoof. “I'm sorry about that. That was... embarrassing and uncouth. I shouldn't have-”

I put a hoof on his shoulder to stop him. “It's alright. You were having a pretty rough night. Now get yourself cleaned up, and then get packed. We're going on a trip.”

“A trip? Where? Why?” I hoof the letter over to him. He reads it, then hoofs it back to me, frowning. “Why are we going on a trip? This is just a property dispute, and frankly, it could be handled in an afternoon.”

“It could... but it won't be. Because you – or rather, Scales – will be going there to handle it himself. In pony.”

He blinks. “Why would I do that? The entire point of Scales is that he is nopony. No one has ever met him, which makes him perfect for working anonymously.”

“That's about to change. You said you wanted to make friends? Well, Saddlefield is as far from the Canterlot elite as it gets. This is your chance to get away from them and Prince Badblood and make some friends on your own.”

He gulps. “I... I don't know, Ink. What if somepony there has heard of me or recognizes me? I mean, we can't be sure that nopony knows about me.”

I stare him straight in the eye. “Look, this is your best chance. From what I can tell, Saddlefield is the one place in Equestria where we can be as close to absolutely sure that nopony has heard of you. These ponies are writing to you, asking for your help. You said last night that you wanted to make friends. Well, do you, or don't you?”

He grits his teeth, than grins. “I do!” I feel a grin spreading on my own face in response.

“That's the spirit! Now go get ready, there's a lot to do.” He trots into the bathroom, and I hear the sound of water running as he calls through the door.

“You should probably wait by the door, Ironback will be here any minute.”

“What? Why?”

“To come along, I assume. He is the leader of my bodyguards, and it would be rather hard for him to guard me if he wasn't around.”

“How would he know? I literally left Princess Celestia a few minutes ago.”

“The guards are all tremendous gossips. Frankly, I'm a little surprised he didn't beat you here.” I snort. There's no way he could know that fast. I've heard of news traveling fast, but this is ridiculous.

Knock knock knock.

Oh, you have got to be kidding me. I trot over to the door and pull it open to find myself staring into a mass of black fur. The stallion in the door stands a good head taller than me, and, I can't help noticing, appears muscular enough to twist me into a pretzel. I track my gaze upwards into a pair of intense blue eyes that look like they're trying to push me out of the way with nothing but the force of their stare. I gulp. “Captain Ironback, I presume?”

“That's me.” He strides past me into the room and drops into one of Blueblood's chairs. “I hear you and the Prince will be leaving the castle. I intend to go with you.” It's not a question.

I run a hoof through my mane and take a deep breath. Best to make a good impression. “Well, it's a pleasure to meet you. Blueblood's told me a great deal about you-”

“Ah, skip the flattery, kid. It's not going to do me any good.”

“It might give you a swollen head, though.” Blueblood steps through his bedroom door, toweling off his mane with his magic. He smiles at Ironback. “Good to see you again, you old warhorse.”

Ironback's expression cracks slightly and he smiles just a little. “It's good to see you again, sir. I was worried when I heard you had a new assistant. I didn't have a chance to do any background checks, but now I see there was no cause for alarm. I don't think this guy could have assassinated Fine Souffle down in the kitchens.”

Blueblood blinks. “Fine Souffle is almost seventy years old.”

Ironback smirks. “Exactly.”

“I'm standing right here, you know,” I grumble.

Ironback snorts. “Just breaking you in, new guy. Now, what do you need me to do?”

I blink. “Do?”

He rolls his eyes. “Yes, do. If I'm coming on this little friendship expedition of yours, then I'm going to pull my own weight, and probably some of yours. Now, what do you need me to do?”

Even with Ironback's help, it takes us several hours to get ready, and by the end of it I've nearly ground my teeth to nubs in frustration. Blueblood might be highly educated, but it appears he missed out on Packing Quickly 101. It takes me almost 30 minutes to convince him that it would be a better idea to leave his mane loose rather than styling it, as it might help to make sure ponies don't recognize him. He then went in completely the other direction, and I had to spend another 30 minutes convincing him that no, you do not need a full disguise, please put the mane dye down and please don't point that spray bottle at me.

I can't bring myself to get mad at him, though. First, I'm pretty sure that he's just using the obsessions and dithering to cover the fact that he's nervous about the trip. Every so often, I catch him staring off into the distance, shifting awkwardly from hoof to hoof, completely oblivious to whatever he's doing. Whenever I ask him what he's doing, he just brushes it off. If I hadn't left Canterlot or made friends in years, I'd be nervous too, so I cut him some slack. Second, he's my employer, and that would be a good way to buy a one-way ticket to you've-just-been-fired-land.

Or maybe he's just a really bad packer. It's hard to tell.

I dash off a letter for the mayor of Saddlefield explaining that we'll be coming and send it off by pegasus express, then get us tickets for an overnight train. There's no stop in Saddlefield, so we have to take a carriage the rest of the way from the nearest station. Of course, we don't get started until an hour after we arrive because it takes me that long to convince Ironback that he should find a place to stay near the train station, on the grounds that a scholar probably wouldn't have a personal bodyguard. I point out that since the entire point of this trip is for Blueblood to be incognito, we should try to avoid doing anything that might break his cover. He huffs and glares at me like he wants to rearrange my facial features, but eventually gives in. We ask the carriage drivers to let us out a short distance from town, leaving us trotting down a smooth dirt road past long, rolling fields of grass and wild plants.

I'm glad that I packed light. There's a slight breeze, but the sun is beating down pretty hard. Despite all of the law books crammed into Blueblood's saddlebags, he seems very chipper. He turns and flashes me a grin.

“I must say Ink, I'm already glad you brought me out here. I can't believe I went this long without a chance to get out of the city and breathe some fresh air.”

“I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, Bl-I mean, Scales.”

He winks conspiratorially. “It would be best if we used my nom de plume, wouldn't it? Wouldn't want to give my secret identity away.”

I roll my eyes. “Don't get carried away, super spy.” As we reach a dip in the road and start to climb back up the other side, we hear the sound of grunting from the other side, followed by a muttered expletive. We hurry up the rest of the way to find a flat stretch, a downed tree across the road, a covered cart, and a unicorn. The mare has her shoulder against the fallen foliage, her muscles straining against its weight. Her slate gray coat is plastered with sweat; judging from the looks of it, she's been at this for a while, and hasn't made very much progress in clearing the road. After a moment, she steps back and stomps her hoof in frustration before dropping to a sitting position.

“Ah, ponyfeathers.”

I glance at Blueblood, one eyebrow cocked. He shrugs and takes a step forwards. “Excuse me, ma'am. Could we perhaps be of assistance?”

She looks back at us over her shoulder, and her face breaks into a tired smile. “I'd really appreciate it. No clue when this came down – it wasn't here the last time I came into town.”

Blueblood smiles. “Glad to. Ink?” We trot to the tree and place our shoulders against it. Blueblood lights his horn, and a burst of telekinesis partially lifts one end of the tree off the ground. The mare follows suit, and we all throw our weight into the tree, which slowly begins to roll. “So...” Blueblood asks through gritted teeth, “you don't live in Saddlefield?”

“Nope,” the mare replies, her neck muscles taught with exertion. “I live about a mile back. I go into town a lot, through.” As she speaks, the tree begins to pick up momentum, rolling over and over as it curves back towards the side of the road. The work gets easier as it goes, and soon the tree is lying by the side of the road, only its top branches spilling into the road. “There. That should be good enough for now. I'll let the mayor know to get somepony out to deal with this.” She brushes her ruby red mane back and gives us another grateful smile, one that sets her blue eyes twinkling. “I'm real grateful for your help, strangers. Couldn't have gotten my cart into town without it.”

Blueblood smiles and bows. “Delighted to be of assistance, Miss. We're going into Saddlefield ourselves, and we couldn't just pass you by. My name is Scales, and this is Ink Blot, my personal assistant. We've come from Canterlot for some business in Saddlefield.”

“Oh yeah, I remember hearing Speak talk about you. You're those legal ponies, right? He seemed real excited. Didn't know you'd be coming into town though. I'm Ruby, Ruby Vein.” She hitches herself up to her cart with magic and starts trotting down the road. Even with its weight, she moves effortlessly, and I almost have to canter to keep up.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms. Vein. Why do you live so far out of town? Are you a farmer?” I'm a little proud of the fact that I barely sound out of breath, especially after exertion like that.

“Hah!” She snorts. “Not hardly, not with a cutie mark like this.” She gestures to her flank and the ruby and crossed pickaxes there. “I'm a gem miner. My whole family is, me and my brother and my younger siblings. The Gemcrackers have mined in Saddlefield for five generations now. There's a lot of families that have been here even longer, and most everypony knows each other.”

Blueblood nods appreciatively. “Quite the pedigree, Ms. Vein. You must be quite proud.”

Ruby snorts. “Can't say I ever thought about it in those terms, but yeah, we're proud of our roots here. And don't call me Mrs. Vein – that was my mother. I'm just Ruby.” She shakes her head. “Still not sure why you had to come all the way out here. Our problems don't seem all that important, especially not important enough to get somepony all the way out from Canterlot. Everypony around here is pretty laid back and easygoing.”

Blueblood gives a winning smile. “I wanted to take advantage of the chance to travel and get away from Canterlot. I do enjoy field work.”

Ah, going with blatant lies, I see.

Ruby shrugs. “Whatever. I hope you enjoy your stay in Saddlefield; it's not much to look at, but it's a pretty nice town. We're welcoming to strangers, and we'll deal with you straight. Not much like the Canterlot ponies and royalty you're used to, I'll wager.” I'm not sure if she catches Blueblood wincing at the mention of 'Canterlot ponies and royalty'. To his credit, he recovers quickly and acts as if nothing was wrong.

“Yes, well, there are some... disagreeable sorts in Canterlot, yes. But there are a number of very good, generous, honest ponies as well.”

“I'll take your word for it. Never been there myself. If you ever need somepony to show you around Saddlefield, I'd be glad to oblige ya, as long as it doesn't get in the way of my mine work.”

Blueblood flashes that winning smile again. “It'd be a pleasure, Ruby. It would be great to get a chance to get to know your town better.” By this time, we've reached the edges of Saddlefield. It's not a very big city, with houses and small shops branching out from a central square. The houses are relatively plain, and most aren't very large, but they seem well-kept. Several ponies wave or nod to Ruby as we pass. She raises an eyebrow at Blueblood, but doesn't say anything.

“Alright, well, just come and find me whenever you want. Our mine is back up the road into town. Just keep an eye out for the sign on the right side of the road, you can't miss it. Where are you staying while you're in town?”

I shrug. “We haven't found a place yet. I heard there were some good bed & breakfast places in Saddlefield, though.”

Ruby nods. “Yeah, Missus Star down at the south end of town usually has a spare room or two for rent. Tell the truth, a lot of ponies in town have a spare bedroom or two they wouldn't mind renting out, so long as you're neat.”

“Would it be possible for us to stay with you?” I blink at Blueblood in surprise. Where did that come from? Ruby seems to share my surprise.

“W-What? I mean, I don't know...”

“We would, of course, pay for the privilege. Of course, we understand if you are unable, but you've already been so generous as to offer us a tour of Saddlefield, and we'd be ever so grateful if you would help us out.” He glances at me, as if expecting me to say something. After a moment, I shake myself out of my surprise.

“Uh... right. It would mean an awful lot to us.”

Ruby rubs the back of her neck before she shrugs. “Well... what the hay. We got some spare beds. We used to have seasonal workers in, but we haven't in a long time. You can stay in those rooms if you like.” She jerks her head at a large brick building overlooking the central square. The silver lettering on its facade reads TOWN HALL. “The mayor's office is in there if you want to introduce yourselves. I've gotta go drop off these gems at the depot so they can get sent out for sale on the weekly cargo carriage. I'll be back in a little while, and then we can go back to the house.”

Blueblood grins and bows. “We will be waiting, Ruby, and thank you again.” The town hall isn't very big, and the receptionist seems glad of the distraction from filing. We introduce ourselves, and she walks back to tell the mayor. When she returns, she's accompanied by an orange pegasus. His light blue mane falls over his face and his eyes, and he brushes it back before looking us over through a pair of spectacles perched on his muzzle. His eyes widen when he spots Blueblood, and he zips forward, hovering in mid-air while shaking Blueblood's hoof with both forehooves.

“Well, Mr. Scales, it is a pleasure to meet you, a real pleasure. My name is Legal Speak, and I'm the mayor around here. I must say, I'm quite a fan of yours; I've followed your work very closely during my time as a lawyer and our town judge. I was so surprised when I got your letter; what with your reputation for privacy, I never thought I'd get the chance to meet you in person. Well, I am just tickled pink by this chance! I'm so glad you've decided to come out here to help us with our little trouble, and if there's anything at all that I can do to make your stay more comfortable, I am at your disposal!”

Blueblood seems somewhat taken aback by the torrent of words and the vigorous hoof-shaking, but he stands a bit taller and smiles at the adoration. “Well, it's a pleasure to be here, Legal Speak. This is my assistant, Ink Blot. He's the one who made this trip possible.” I smile and bow; at last, some recognition. “Ink has filled me in on the details of your case, but I'd like to get some firsthand experience with the claimants and the case. I'd like to meet with both of them individually and examine any documents that might be pertinent. Would tomorrow morning suit?”

“Perfectly, just perfectly.” If Legal Speak's grin gets any wider, his jaw might dislocate. “I'll be sure to let Wild Vine and Coal Tunnel know and prepare all of the documentation I can – which isn't much, unfortunately. Do you have a place to stay while you're in town?”

I nod. “We do. Ruby Vein was kind enough to offer us the chance to stay with her.”

“Ruby, ah! Wonderful mare. The Gemcrackers have always been one of the pillars of this community. You couldn't find a better pony to introduce you to Saddlefield.”

“Now, Mayor, you know I'm not all that.” The three of us turn to see Ruby leaning against the doorway. “I'm just a miner who's doing her best to carry on as her parents and grandparents did.” She winks at Legal Speak. “That don't mean you should stop complimenting me, though.”

Legal Speak chuckles. “Always a pleasure to see you, Ruby. Will you be heading back to the mine, then?”

Ruby nods. “That's right, but I'll be back tomorrow to show these two around some, so you'll see more of me then.” She nods to Blueblood and I. “You two ready to get going? I can't afford to hang too long; I'm going to need to get extra work done tonight so I can show you around tomorrow.”

Blueblood smiles and trots out of the town hall after her. “Lead the way, Ruby.” Ruby hitches herself to her cart, sitting next to the town hall steps, and sets out after making sure we're both with her. “Alright, then let's go. Time to introduce you to the family.”

Author's Note

Sorry this took so long. Chapter 6 took me a lot longer to write than it should have.

Chapter 6: In Which Our Hero Meets the Family, the Town, and The Dispute

Author's Note

I'm going to be out of town for a while, during which time I won't be able to do more than brainstorm the next chapter, so I wanted to make sure to get this out for you guys before I went away. Enjoy!

Chapter 6: In Which Our Hero Meets the Family, the Town, and The Dispute

Ruby sets a firm pace on the road out of town. If anything, she seems to be faster, now that her cart is empty. Blueblood seems preoccupied looking at the town, so I decide to strike up a conversation. “So, Ruby, how do you like Saddlefield?”

Ruby shrugs. “It's a nice enough place. I was born and raised here, so I don't have much to compare it to. There's a lot of mining families in and around town, since the area's pretty rich in minerals.”

Blueblood chimes in. “You said your family are gem miners, correct? Forgive me for my ignorance, but why go to all the trouble of digging a big mine, when you can just mine gems from near the surface? I've seen plenty of ponies dig up plenty of gems with a little magic and simple tools. Well, not seen personally, but heard of.”

Ruby snorts. “Shows how much you know. Sure, you can dig up gems from the surface, but those are the small stuff. It's good for jewelry and decoration, but you get a lot of poor quality stuff mixed in with it. The best and largest gems are found deeper underground. Big part of mining is knowing where to dig to find the good stuff and recognizing it when you've found it. Well, that and a lot of hard digging.”

Blueblood winks. I think it's supposed to be roguish. “I'm sure you must have a lot of war stories, eh?”

Ruby rolls her eyes. “Hardly. Yes, mining is dangerous work. I broke a leg once in a cave-in as a filly, and my father almost lost his life when a gas pocket blew. But if you know what you're doing and take care, it's just... hard work. It's dark and it's cramped, but you get used to that.” She shoots a sidelong glance at Blueblood and smirks. “Not much like working in a Canterlot office, I expect.”

Blueblood splutters something unintelligible. Ruby smirks. “Hey, the great outdoors are pretty nice. The fresh air does you good, washes some of the ink off you.”

I snort. “Only if your hoofwriting is bad. Some of us are good enough to stay clean.”

Blueblood raises an eyebrow. “The pony who works deep underground is extolling the virtues of fresh air?”

Ruby shrugs. “Being underground just makes the fresh air all the sweeter once you get out of the tunnels. It's this way.” She turns off the main road down a smaller dirt path, its surface well-worn and beaten down. After a few twists and turns, the path drops down a hill into a long, flat plain covered in short grass. Ahead of us is a wooden house, its gray paint and red roof somewhat faded with age. The building is surprisingly large, at least three stories high. Behind the house squat a number of small outbuildings, presumably involved in the mine work. Rail tracks lead away from several of them into large tunnels dug into the side of a range of rocky, rolling hills. A breeze whips over the flatland, bringing a slight chill with it. I shiver a little and glance around. This whole place seems rather... desolate.

Ruby stops and sighs appreciatively. “Here we are. Home sweet home.” I think it looks like a horror movie set, but I elect not to say so. Ruby trots down the slope and unhitches herself from the cart before rolling it up to the end of one of the rail lines and pulling a tarp over it. “There we go. Come on in.”

Ruby smacks the door open and strides through without waiting for us to catch up. My jaw almost drops in surprise once we get inside. The interior of the house is surprisingly warm and cozy. Soft, worn carpeting covers the floor of a frankly massive living room. Two large sofas sit at right angles to each other, facing large windows that look out onto the path to the house. A pair of open doorways lead further into the house, and I can see a kitchen through one and a large staircase through the other.

“Hey everypony, I'm home! And I brought guests! Emerald, Iron, Silver, get yourselves out here and say hello!”

“Welcome home, sis.” A stallion trots through the door from the kitchen, and the similarity between him and Ruby is immediately apparent. Same gray coat, same blue eyes. The only difference is in his light green mane and tail. It's only when I see him standing next to Ruby that it hits me just how big Ruby really is. She's taller than either me or Blueblood, and muscular enough that she could probably give Ironback a run for his money in a hoof-wrestling contest. The stallion – presumably her brother – is one of the bigger stallions I've seen, and he's only a little bit bigger than her. He brushes a few crumbs off himself and fixes us with an easy smile. “Well now, it's good to meet you two. What's your names?”

Blueblood steps forward and gives a little bow. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir. I am Scales, and this is my assistant, Ink Blot.” I nod and offer my greetings.

“Oh, I'm a sir, now? I suppose I should ask for higher pay, Ruby?” The stallion chuckles and offers his hoof. “I'm Emerald Vein, but you can just call me Emerald. I'm Ruby's brother.”

I shake the proffered hoof. “It's good to meet you. You can just call me Ink.”

“Well met, Ink. You staying a long time in Saddlefield?”

“They'll be staying with us here, Emerald.” Ruby cuts in, then continues as her brother's eyebrows rise. “And they're paying for the privilege.”

Emerald smiles. “Well then. Dinner's almost ready. We'll eat as soon as you've settled in, assuming that the twins don't hold you up for too long.”

“The twins?” Blueblood queries. “Ah, your younger siblings, I pres-” He is drowned out by the thunderous clatter of rushing hooves on wood.

“NEW PONIES!”

“Oh my gosh, where are you from? You don't look like you're from around here, are you from around here? What's your names? I heard sis say you're staying with us, is that true? Huh? Huh? Tell me tell me tell me!” Blueblood and I are nearly bowled over by a pair of gray-furred projectiles that skid to a stop only inches in front of us. The one with no volume control is a filly with a shiny silver mane, and the chatterbox is a colt who somehow manages to have a two-tone gray mane that is not the same shade as his fur. I didn't even realize that many shades of gray existed. For all I know, there's forty or fifty more.

The two pony cannonballs stare up at us with wide eyes and appear to be about to break into another verbal assault before Ruby cuts them off. “Indoor voices, you two. You know that's not how we greet guests, especially guests who will be staying here for a while. Kids, this is Scales and Ink Blot, and they're from Canterlot-”

“YOU'RE FROM CANTERLOT?!?”

“Oh wow, do you know the Princesses? What are they like? Are they cool and-”

“And they've had a long day and are very tired, so ease up.” Ruby rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “This,” she says, gesturing to the filly, “is Silver Ore, and that's Iron Ore. Now go wash up for dinner while these two settle in. You'll get to talk their ears off at dinner.”

“But Ruby...” The two synchronize their whining impressively.

“No 'But Ruby!' These ponies will be staying here for a while, so you don't need to be in such a hurry.”

“But Ruby...”

“No buts!”

“Okay, Ruby.” The two chorus, before disappearing back through the door to the stairs. Ruby rolls her eyes.

“Sheesh. I love 'em, but the kids can be a real handful. Come on, it's this way.” She leads us through the same door and down a hallway. A series of doors lining both walls lead into individual rooms. They're spare, but surprisingly large, and each has a bed, chest of drawers, easy chair, desk, mirror and sink. A window offers me a lovely view of the hills and an open mine tunnel. I toss my saddlebags onto the bed and spend a few minutes halfheartedly unpacking before I just resort to dumping most of my work material onto the desk. My organizational instincts cry out, but I've had more physical activity today than I usually do in a week, and I'm tired. I roll onto the bed and am just about to close my eyes when a loud call from Emerald rouses me.

“Dinner's ready, come and get it!” I trot down the hallway and emerge into a large room with a high, arched ceiling. It's at least two stories high, and the arch is supported by thick wooden beams that have been sanded smooth. It's rough, but also pretty, in a chapel-meets-log-cabin sort of way. Blueblood's already there, and appears to be regaling the kids with tales of Canterlot Castle.

“Whoa, no way! Are there really dining halls bigger than our house?” If Iron Ore's jaw opens any wider, it's liable to fall off. “That must be like... huge! How many ponies can you fit in there? And they're all like that?”

Blueblood chuckles. “No, not all of them. Just the grand dining rooms. But when they're full of tables, you can fit 50, 60 ponies in there – easily!”

“Wow...”

Emerald lifts a large pot of stew in his magic and sets it on the table. Blueblood leans forward as the unicorn begins to ladle large helpings into bowls. “I must say, this house is lovely. It's... well, don't take it the wrong way, but it's much larger than I would have expected. A house of this size would cost thousands or tens of thousands of bits in Canterlot. I can think of more than a few nobles who would give their left front hoof to have an high arched ceiling like this.”

Ruby drops into a seat at the end of the table, a bottle and several wine glasses held in her own magic. She pours herself and Emerald glasses before glancing our way. “Our great-great-grandfather moved out here because land was cheap. He built this house himself – we've just expanded on it a little bit. Wine? It's local.”

“I'd be delighted.” Blueblood passes a glass to me before taking a sip of his own. “Mmmm... Quite delicious. A bit... livelier than a lot of the wines I'm used to.” He peers at the bottle. “Wild Vine Farm & Vineyards. You said this was a local vintage?”

Ruby snorts. “'Vintage' is probably dressing it up more than it deserves, but yes. Wild Vine lives at the other end of town from the road in. He's one of the sides in that land dispute you were talking about earlier.”

“Ah, excellent. I suppose I will be meeting him tomorrow, then. Do you happen to know anything about the dispute?”

Ruby shrugs. “Not much. It's him and some other guy, uh... What was his name, Emerald?”

“Coal Tunnel. His family mines coal. Rich seams down there.”

I take a break from gulping down the delicious carrot stew to field my own question. “Don't you ever compete for land? Like, trying to get the best mining soil, or something?”

Ruby shakes her head. “We go where the gems are, he goes where the coal is. Around here at least, those are two separate areas. You move where the minerals are. That's just the way mining families live. It's one of the reasons our family came out here, besides the cheap land.”

I frown. “So if the mines run out, will you move? Go somewhere else, where there're more gems?”

Ruby glances at Emerald, then shrugs. “I guess so. This land's pretty rich, so we might not have to move far.”

“I wanna be a miner like Ruby and Emerald when I grow up!” Silver pipes up. “They're the awsomest bestest big siblings ever!”

Blueblood chuckles. “They certainly sound great. I never had any siblings of my own, did you know? I was an only child.” He turns back to Ruby. “It must be a lot of work running a mine with just the two of you.”

Emerald chuckles. “It certainly is, and your body lets you know in no uncertain terms how displeased it is. But we make it work. The two of us probably pull more gems out of those hills than five ponies in a normal mine.”

Blueblood nods. “I imagine it must be harder because... well, I don't want to be rude, but I know most ponies imagine mining as an earth pony career. Though,” he winks and elbows me, “I imagine Ink here might collapse lifting anything heavier than a binder.” I grumble something inarticulate. “It's not typically work that's associated with unicorns. I can tell you that most Canterlot unicorns wouldn't be caught dead in a mine.”

Ruby sits up a little straighter in pride. “That's right, but the Gemcrackers have always been proud of the fact that we're unicorns and can still work just as hard or harder than an earth pony. There's not a pony around here, earth pony or no, who'll challenge me or Emerald to a hoof-wrestling contest. Magic comes in pretty handy in the mine, too – good for working with fine tools or delicate tasks. Makes explosives a lot easier to handle too.”

Blueblood's eyes widen. “Explosives? Like, dynamite and stuff?”

“Yeah! Like, boom!” Iron gives me a broad and slightly disturbing grin. “It's so cool! But Ruby won't let me use any of it...”

“That,” Ruby snorts, “is because you're way too young. Dynamite is dangerous, and not for playing around with. But yeah, we use dynamite. It's pretty good for blasting new tunnels or collapsing tunnels you don't need any more.”

Emerald snorts. “You mean you just like the blast.”

Ruby cracks a grin that does absolutely nothing to reassure me. “Well, maybe a little of that too.”

“You, um...” I gulp, my throat suddenly dry. “You don't store the dynamite in the house, do you?”

Ruby frowns and taps her chin. “You know, come to think of it, I think we did use to keep some down near the guest quarters. We moved it out a while ago, but we never found it all. It's probably gone bad by now. Might be unstable, so don't, you know, roll over in bed. Or snore too loudly.” I croak something unintelligible in reply before I see Ruby cover her mouth with a hoof and start snickering. Before long, she's guffawing loudly and pounding on the table with a hoof. Iron and Silver are cracking up, and even Blueblood is beginning to snicker.

“That's not funny!” I yelp. It might have been more forceful if my voice hadn't cracked partway through. “I have a very healthy fear of being blown into tiny pieces.”

Emerald reaches over and pats me on the back. “She's just giving you a hard time. Don't worry, we don't keep the dynamite anywhere near the house. So what's Canterlot like? The mayor's been there, but I don't think anypony else in town has.”

I glance at Blueblood. “Well, Scales here is the native. I'm from Chicoltgo.”

Blueblood leans forward in his chair. “Yes, well, ah.. It's... big?”

Ruby raises an eyebrow. “Big?”

Blueblood nods. “Big.”

Silver snorts. “You're not very good at this.”

Blueblood frowns. “Well, I don't know how else to describe it! It's just... Picture everything about life, but magnified a bunch of times. That's what Canterlot is like. All of the buildings are bigger and more lavish than any other town. It's one of the biggest cities for the arts – there're more theaters, opera houses, music halls and art galleries per resident than just about any other city in Equestria, except for maybe Manehattan. There's countless different types of cuisine, with chefs from all across the map. There's one Griffon cafe that makes the best seared eggplant I've ever had. The parties are huge, lavish affairs, with dozens or hundreds of ponies and the finest entertainment. Manehattan's got more business, and Los Pegasus has more movie stars, but lots of big companies are based in Canterlot and most major stars have a residence in Canterlot anyways. And then, of course, there's the castle and the Princesses. You can't go far without seeing a Royal Guard, and the castle is visible from just about anywhere in the city. The royalty is just so... ever present, you can't avoid it. It's just so hard to encapsulate so... well, so much everything in a few words.”

There are a few moments of silence when Blueblood finishes, broken only when Iron whistles. “Wow...”

Silver drains her bowl with a loud slurp and licks traces of her soup off her lip before giggling. “What are the nobles like? Are they all snooty and stuck up and selfish like the books say they are?”

Blueblood bites his lip awkwardly. “Well, yes, some of them are like that. But a lot of them are really good ponies at heart. Just like anywhere, you have some good eggs and some bad eggs. It's just not always easy to tell which kind a new pony is.”

Silver snorts. “Nuh uh! I think you're just fibbing.”

Blueblood frowns. “I am not fibbing.” He looks like he's about to continue when Ruby holds up a hoof to cut him off.

“Don't even bother. Silver's more stubborn than a dragon guarding its treasure.” Silver grins in self-satisfaction before Ruby rounds on her. “And you, young miss, will stop accusing our guests of lying unless you want to do extra chores tomorrow.”

Silver pouts before turning to Blueblood. “I'm sorry, Mr. Scales, sir...”

Blueblood chuckles and reaches over to pat her on the shoulder. “It's okay. I got carried away too.”

We finish up dinner quickly – I polish off a second bowl of stew – and Ruby shoos Iron and Silver upstairs to get ready for bed. After showing us to our rooms, she turns in, promising to get us up in time to have breakfast and set out for town. This promised morning comes noticeably earlier than I would have liked. I knew farm families got up early, but I don't see why miners need to. The rocks aren't going anywhere. Breakfast is hash browns and grape juice, which is quite tasty despite its simplicity. Emerald cooked again. He grumbled something about “why not just eat paper” when I asked if he had cereal.

Before long, we're trotting back down the road into town. Ruby is fully awake and chipper, and Blueblood, irritatingly enough, seems to be so as well. If I didn't know better I'd think he was sucking up to her. Ruby gives us a quick tour of town. My initial impressions were, for the most part, correct. This town is not exactly the height of culture and elegance. Its classiest restaurant would probably be a casual eatery in Canterlot. Still, it's got a homey charm to it. Lots of ponies wave to Ruby and greet her as we pass, and several go out of their way to introduce themselves to us. “Hi Ruby!” “How ya doin', Ruby?” “How are things at the mine?” “Who's your new friends?” Blueblood can't stop smiling.

Eventually, Ruby drops us off at the Town Hall, promising to return for us later in the day. While Blueblood gets roped into a discussion of some kind of legal minutiae with Legal Speak, I decide to start collecting and organizing the material the mayor's gathered. It's immediately apparent that there isn't much. I quickly review all of it and finish sorting the documents as Blueblood flops into a chair next to me.

“Well, what do we have?”

I shrug. “Not much. As best I can tell, these two – Wild Vine and Coal Tunnel – are arguing over who owns a section of land. Coal Tunnel claims that it used to belong to his family, and the records show that it does. Wild Vine claims that it was sold to his family some time ago, and just hasn't been used since. The records do show that the land was sold, but it's not really clear as to who bought it, and Tunnel claims that since it went unused and unclaimed for so long, it should revert back to his control.”

Blueblood taps his front hoofs together. “Vexing indeed. This might prove to be challenging. Any sign of our two claimants?” I glance at a schedule at the top of one of my piles.

“Yeah, Wild Vine's supposed to be here any minute to give us his side.”

Slam. Thud-thump. I glance at Blueblood. “Sounds like he's here.” A moment later the door bangs open to reveal a light green earth pony. He thumps into the room and drops into a chair in front of us before blowing a bit of his reddish-purple mane out of his eyes. He leans forward and extends a hoof to Blueblood. “You're Scales?”

Blueblood smiles and nods, returning the hoofshake. “That's right. You must be Wild Vine.”

The stallion nods. “That's me. You're the guy who's supposed to sort all this out, right?”

Blueblood nods again. “Correct. I was hoping you could give me your version, maybe highlight something that's not clear from the documents.”

Wild Vine shrugs. “Not much to say. His great-great-whatever sold the land to my family a long time ago, and now I want to use it and he claims it still belongs to him.”

“Why didn't you use the land before now? It seems like it's gone unused for quite some time.”

Wild Vine thinks for a minute before shrugging. “Either didn't have the money, or the time in the market wasn't right for it. Now I do, and it is.”

Blueblood scribbles something on a piece of paper. “Are you sure that the land was, in fact, sold to you, and not someone else? And that it wasn't sold back at some point?”

Wild Vine leans forward and bangs his hoof on the desk, making my pens jump. “Of course I'm sure! What are you trying to-” He abruptly bites off his words and takes a few deep breaths before he sets his hooves down on the desk and looks Blueblood straight in the eye. “I mean, yes, I'm quite sure.”

I shuffle through a few of the papers on the desk, more to have something to calm my heart down than because it's useful. “Do you have any additional documentation? What we have here is pretty limited, so anything you can add would help.”

Wild Vine shakes his head. “No. Everything I have should be there. Shouldn't need it, though. That land's mine, and I know it.” His jaw is set firmly, and he stares at me as if he's daring me to contradict him. After careful consideration, I choose not to. The three of us dicker back and forth for another half an hour. Blueblood asks a variety of questions and jots a few notes down, but I'm not sure that we come out of it with much more information than we went in. Eventually, Wild Vine rises and turns to leave. He opens the door to reveal a dark gray earth pony. Wild Vine's jaw tightens and his eyes narrow. The two glare at each other as they cautiously edge past each other, never taking their eyes from each others' faces. The gray pony eventually makes his way into the room and strides to the desk before taking a seat.

“I'm Coal Tunnel.”

I give a smile and nod. “Pleased to meet you, Coal Tunnel. I'm Ink Blot, and this is Scales. We just want to ask you a few questions.”

Coal Tunnel nods. “Of course. Ask away.”

Blueblood nods and leans over to glance at the papers on the desk. “Now, the records are pretty clear that the land was sold at some point in the past, but it's not clear who bought it. You don't have any more information to confirm whether or not it was Wild Vine's family who bought it?”

Coal Tunnel shakes his head. “Unfortunately, no. I don't recall ever hearing from my parents or grandparents that his family bought the land, but I don't know who did.”

“And the land's not in use?”

“No, sir. Some old surveys indicate that there might still be good coal there, which I'm hoping to get to.”

“Has anyone else used the land?”

“As far as I'm aware, no. It has remained unused.”

“And why do you think that your family still has a claim to the land?”

Coal Tunnel shrugs. “Well, if he wasn't using it, I don't see why he should get to keep it. And besides, couldn't there be more documentation out there that hasn't been found yet? Maybe some of it would prove that it was sold back to my family or was sold to someone else.”

Blueblood shrugs. “Possibly.” We go through another question and answer section, though this one doesn't last as long before Blueblood thanks Coal Tunnel and lets him go. The Prince takes a deep breath and slowly blows it out once Coal Tunnel has shut the door. “Well. Seems like neither is willing to give up on their claim to the land.”

I shake my head. “Nope.”

Blueblood turns to me and grins. “Well, then, Ink Blot. Sounds like it's time for us to go to work.”

I grin back. “My thoughts exactly.”

Chapter 7: In Which Our Hero's Plan Begins to Bear Fruit

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 8: In Which Our Hero Engages in Espionage

I flop onto my bed and let out a sigh of relief. We spent the morning drafting our letters to the Princess explaining Blueblood's ruling and listing the documentation (or lack thereof) we used as evidence. Blueblood couldn't stop snickering the whole time; he eventually explained to me that as the foremost legal expert in the castle, a matter like this would be passed on to him for approval. He explained, with a great deal of laughter, that we were writing a letter just so that he could mail it off to himself to approve the thing he'd already thought of. Given that we'd been working on this for almost two hours by that point, I was less than amused.

We decided to knock off work early; Blueblood needed to get ready for his date with Ruby so I decided to take the chance to do some sightseeing around town. I bought some “authentic” Saddlefield arts and crafts (almost all mine-themed) as souvenirs. I'm especially fond of the miniature stick of dynamite and the little metal mine cart and pony statuette. Still, I'm pretty tired, and the prospect of a nap before dinner sounds very appealing. So naturally, my door bangs open just as I've gotten comfortable.

Emerald strides in. “Make yourself presentable. We're going to dinner.”

I snort and blearily open one eye. “You really trust Iron and Silver to eat at a restaurant without destroying it or getting thrown out?”

Emerald shakes his head. “They're not coming. They're at a friend's house tonight.” Well, that certainly explained the abnormal lack of noise in the house. “It's just the two of us. We're going to Flip's.”

I sit up. “Look, Emerald, you're a great guy, and I know love has kind of been in the air and all, what with Ruby and Scales, but you're just not really my type, and-”

He snorts. “Not like that. We're going to be keeping an eye on your friend Scales and make sure that there's no funny business.”

I blink in surprise. “That seems kind of... rude. And intrusive. Shouldn't we give them some privacy?”

Emerald snarls. “Then he should have thought of that before he decided to start dating my sister.”

Well, that course of action isn't going anywhere. Sounds like his mind is well and truly made up. Best thing I can do now is try not to get pulled into it. I put on my best winning smile. “Uh, look, Emerald, I get that she's your sister, and you're really close, and I know that I'd want what's best for my sister if I had one, but this really doesn't seem like the sort of thing you need me for. I'm sure you've got it all under control-”

Emerald looms over me, his eyes hard. “He's your friend. I think you should come.” I gulp. I don't think he'd hurt me, but I elect not to push my luck. Those stories about ridiculously overprotective older brothers can't all be fictional, after all...

“Ah-heh, heh. Sure. Let me just, uh... tidy up! Yes! I should really, uh, clean up if we're going out to dinner.”

Emerald narrows his eyes and gives me a scrutinizing glare. “Alright. But I'll be waiting for you at the door.”

Yeah, I'll just bet you will.

I make myself presentable and troop out to the front porch to meet Emerald. He sets off towards town without speaking, and we walk the whole distance in slightly awkward silence. Every so often, he shoots glances over at me, as if to make sure that I haven't run away.

I cheer up a little when we get to Flip's. It actually smells pretty good, like a place that hasn't entirely forgotten its home-cooked comfort food roots despite its attempt to emulate a much fancier restaurant. There are nice tablecloths on all the tables, along with candles in miniature mining lamps. The wood of the booths is worn and somewhat faded, but clean and clearly well-cared for. I peer over Emerald's shoulder as he speaks to the host. Yes, there's Ruby and Blueblood sitting in a booth. I try to make myself as small as possible and conceal myself behind Emerald – not that that's particularly difficult. They don't seem to have noticed us yet, at least.

The host blinks in surprise. “Uh, Mr... Vein, did you say?”

Emerald nods. “That's right, Emerald Vein. Reservation for two.”

The host glances at Emerald, then at me, then down to the paper in front of him. I can see his head twitch, as if he wants to turn and look back towards Blueblood. His mouth opens and works silently for a moment before he composes himself and plasters on a welcoming smile. “Of course, sir. Any particular place you would like to sit?”

“Booth, please.” Emerald rumbles. “And with a view towards that side.” He points his hoof in Ruby and Blueblood's direction. To his credit, the host doesn't even bat an eye. I guess he's just decided that it's best not to question the situation. The host shows us to a table along one wall. Emerald sits and scoots around to face Ruby and Blueblood's table. He grabs a menu and immediately holds it up in front of himself to hide his face. If the whole situation weren't so awkward, I'd be laughing out loud. I'm a little concerned that doing so might upset Emerald's apparently tenuous grasp on reality, however, so I just sit next to him and start perusing the drink section.

“Are you buying?”

He grunts.

I shake my head and smirk. “Take me out to a nice place and you won't even pay.”

He snorts and waves a hoof at me. “Sure. Whatever. Order what you want.” He raises his head a little to peer over the top of the menu before jerking his head back down. I have to stuff a hoof into my mouth to keep myself from losing it.

The waitress prances up to us and gets halfway into her introduction before she notices Emerald and trails off mid-sentence. Unlike the host, she does turn and look back at Ruby, then back at Emerald. I guess that's one downside of living in a small town – no chance anyone won't make the connection. “Uh... would you two like... drinks, or something?”

“Water.” Emerald is still staring intensely at his menu, though its pretty clear he's not reading it.

I smile and look at the waitress. She gives me a full smile back, apparently relieved that someone at this table seems normal. “Could I try the Break Line Berry cocktail?” She nods and scribbles our orders down before swishing off towards the kitchen. I rest my head on a hoof and lazily peruse the menu. Those vegetable kabobs look pretty good, but the mountain spring salad sounds pretty tasty too. I glance over at Emerald, who, so far as I can tell, has not moved aside from peering over his menu like a prairie dog.

“You know, if you keep your forelegs and neck all tense like that, you'll get a cramp.”

“Huh.” Pretty sure nothing I say is having an impact.

“So Emerald, Silver was telling me that she wanted to get her ears pierced.”

“Huh.”

“Hey Emerald, I think I just heard the mine explode.”

“Huh.”

“Hey Emerald, if you don't need me, can I go? Say 'huh' for yes.”

“If you run off, I'll bury you in the deepest mine shaft we have.” Rats. He shoots me a sideways glance. “Thought I wasn't listening?”

I roll my eyes again. “Well it certainly seemed that way. I wasn't kidding about Silver's ears though. She decided to ask me about earring choices yesterday, since apparently I'm an expert on that.”

“I'll talk about it with Ruby.”

I glance upwards and accidentally lock eyes with Ruby. I hurriedly grab my menu and hold it up in front of my face. A little too slow though – I just get a glimpse of her brow starting to furrow in recognition. “Great! Just great! She saw me!” I hiss at Emerald through clenched teeth.

His reply rumbles through the thin plastic of his menu. “Then it's your own fault for not being sneaky!”

“How in the name of Celestia is this my fault? You're the one who dragged me out here! Maybe you should have thought about the fact that I'm not exactly a superspy first, hm?” No reply. The silence stretches on, and I snort and turn back to my menu. “How are the kebabs, by the way? They look pretty good.”

“They're good.”

“Really? You're not just saying that?”

“No, they're pretty good. We usually come here for the twins' birthday.”

“Huh.” I rub my chin. “Yeah, kebabs it is.” We sit in silence for another minute or two until the waitress returns to deliver our drinks and take our order. I order the kebabs. Emerald convinces the waitress to leave the menus with some line about ordering seconds. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to simultaneously hold up my menu and eat without unicorn magic, but I don't think Emerald is giving a lot of thought to that.

While he's ordering, I peer around the side of the menu to get a glimpse of Blueblood's table. Ruby is laughing uproariously and tears are streaming from her eyes, while Blueblood mainly looks perplexed and slightly surprised. I'm not sure if she's laughing at some joke he didn't get or if he accidentally did something funny, and from his look, I don't think he knows either. I jerk my head back behind my menu when it looks like he's about to turn our direction.

I glance over at Emerald. His gaze is so intense, I'm surprised it hasn't bored a hole through the menu already. I sigh. “Look, what's the big deal? I mean, I get it. If I had a sister, I'd want to make sure that some stallion was right for her and keep her from getting hurt, but this is... well, this is kind of creepy, to be honest. So your sister is out on a date. It's not like we're strangers; you know me, you know Scales, we're your friends. What's got you so riled up?”

For a long moment, I think he's not going to answer. Just when I'm preparing myself to spend the rest of the evening in silence, he sighs. “It's the mine. The kids. Everything.”

I glance at him out of the corner of my eye and deadpan my response. “You're going to need to be more specific than that.”

Emerald snorts. “The mine's running out.”

I blink in surprise. “I know. You... told me. You told both of us.”

“And... money's... tighter than we let on.”

I lean over and lower my voice. “Are you guys, you know, in trouble? Do you need-”

Emerald waves a hoof and peers over his menu. I peer around the side of mine and see Blueblood yammering on, probably some inane story about some boring party in Canterlot, and Ruby looks more than a bit bored. I duck back behind my menu when Emerald speaks up again. “Don't be silly. We're not broke or anything. But we don't have enough to buy more land – or at least, not enough for a real mine. Even with Iron and Silver helping, there's just a limit to how many gems two ponies can pull out of the ground. Even with the sale of the mine, we might not have enough.”

“Oh.” I say softly and glance down at the table. “So what are you going to do?”

Emerald shrugs. “Me? I'm a miner. I know my trade, and I'm good at it. I like mining gems, but I could mine something else. I don't mind working for someone else, as long as I get to ply my trade. But Ruby... she was always different. She was always the one eager to help mom and dad, begging them to let her come down in the mine with them. She wanted to be just like them, and I know that she spent years dreaming of the day when she'd take over the mine and carry on the Gemcracker tradition. Not that this is how she'd wanted it, but...”

The waitress brings our food over, and we awkwardly shuffle our menus into a place where they'll mostly stand on their own so that we can eat. After a minute, Emerald looks up from his sandwich. “She's fine with moving. Mining families have to, she knows that as well as everyone. But giving up on running a family business... Working in someone else's mine... It'd crush her. She'd never say it, but I know it would.

“And Emerald and Silver... well, they're not old enough to really work in the mine, but they look up to Ruby so much. They idolize her.”

“Hey, don't sell yourself short.” I elbow him. “They look up to you too.”

“I know, I know.” He chuckles. “But I'm just the solid older brother. I'm the one they trust to check their math homework and who pushes them to clean their rooms. Ruby... they look up to her on a whole other level. After mom and dad died, Ruby... kinda became both. She's the anchor the house revolves around; she's the one they look to for direction, to know what needs to be done.”

“Oh.” I glance down at my kebabs.

“Yeah. Where is this going to go?” I peer over my menu. Ruby is telling a story, gesticulating wildly, and Blueblood is... actually paying rapt attention, his fork held absentmindedly in his telekinesis. He's leaning forward on the edge of his chair, the way he does when he's reading some new judgment or law book. The two of them actually look like they're having... fun. “What kind of future is there in this? I love my sister dearly, but she's not some noblepony who's going to spend all of her time drinking tea and going to functions.” I shudder at the thought of Ruby at a high society party. “We don't belong to that world. We don't fit in there. And what else is there for her in Canterlot? Working in somepony else's mine – assuming, that is, that there are even jobs to be had? And what about Iron and Silver? They'd be crushed without Ruby, and I'm not sure I'm a suitable replacement.”

“Well, it's kind of early to be talking about them moving in together, isn't it?” I say with forced cheer and give him a small smile.

“Or do what? Stay separate, with Ruby here and him all the way in Canterlot? Even by train, that's a ways. On top of that, we've got to deal with our money, not knowing how long we're going to be here, or where we're going to go afterward. What if the only place we can find land is even farther away and harder to reach?”

“Isn't it a little bit early to be declaring this whole thing doomed?” I raise an eyebrow. “I mean, come on, this is their first date. Shouldn't we give them a chance?” I gesture at the couple. Blueblood's leaning on the table, his best winning grin on. Ruby's laughing into her hoof – looks like one of his jokes finally landed.

Emerald snorts and turns back to his food. “I just want to make sure that chance is worth giving.”

“He's a good guy.” I nod earnestly. “Really. He is. Look, when I first met him, I thought I really wasn't going to like him. But he's not bad at all, and now I'm... I'm proud to call him my friend.”

Emerald harrumphs. “Your concern has been noted.” I turn back to my kebabs. We eat in silence for a few minutes, punctuated only by brief glances over and around our menus. Ruby's still eating, but Blueblood's gone. I frown. Bathroom, maybe? Ruby doesn't seem perturbed. I'm about to bite into a roasted tomato when a thought strikes me.

“What about you?”

“Huh?” For once, Emerald seems legitimately flustered. “What about me?”

“Is there someone in your life?” Emerald snorts and starts to turn away. “Hey, come on. I see you around the house all the time. You must have some kind of life outside of the mine.”

Emerald hunches his shoulders and leans in closer to his food. “Why should I tell you?”

“Because I'm a friend, and I'm curious? I guess I was just wondering, considering where we are.” I shrug and pick up one of my kebabs. “And besides, you dragged me all the way out here. I figured you could at least answer a question or two.”

Emerald blows a lock of his mane out of his face and doesn't take his glare off his food. “Fine.”

“Fine what?”

“Sandstorm Slate. She works construction, busy building some big house on the south side of town.”

I elbow him and wiggle my eyebrows. “Eh? Eh? I knew it! Come on, spill the details.”

He rolls his eyes. “It's nothing serious. Whenever we both want a chance to relax, we just get some food and wine and have a long weekend in, and then we go back to our lives.”

“Friends with benefits, eh? You're a smoother operator than I gave you credit for, Emerald.” I give him a soft punch in the foreleg. He snorts, but I can see he's blushing a little. “Come on, was that that bad? I'm not that bad to be around.”

He sighs. “No, I suppose you're not.”

I smirk. “You got that right. And hey, Scales can't be that bad either, right, since he hangs around with me?”

Emerald shoots me a glance, eyes flashing, but I see the corner of his mouth twitch upwards. “Don't push your luck.”

I finish off one of my kebabs. “I'll have to come back here sometime. The food is pretty good.”

“Oh, I quite agree. In fact, I was considering asking if their chef could consider sharing recipes with the castle staff.”

I swallow my mouthful of food abruptly. It lands in my stomach like a rock. I turn, slowly, trying to put off what I know I'm going to see as long as possible. “Oh, uh, hello Scales. Fancy seeing you here.”

Blueblood leans against the side of our booth, idly checking his hooficure. He does not look amused. “Yes, quite a coincidence, isn't it? Especially given that Saddlefield only has one fancy restaurant and that you knew where Ruby and I intended to dine.”

“Well, I know this looks kind of weird, but-”

“I'm not particularly interested in what it looks like, Ink!” He hisses. Blueblood leans in close so that his face is hidden behind our menu wall. “I must admit I'm somewhat confused by your involvement, but that is immaterial right now! What is important is that this comes to an end, as soon as possible.”

“What do you-”

“I mean,” he spits through gritted teeth, “that you should leave. Right now. I would hope that you would respect my privacy,” he turns to Emerald, “and if not mine, then at least respect your sister's.”

Some part of my brain is wondering why Emerald hasn't chimed in to help me defend ourselves, given that it was his idea and all, but that part takes second seat to the part that splutters out “But we haven't even paid yet.”

“I have paid for you.” I blink in surprise. “Why do you think it took so long for me to get here? I spoke to the host about arranging to pay for your bill. He seemed confused by the whole situation, but decided that my money spends just as well as yours.”

“Alright.” I jerk my head around to face Emerald, who's finally decided to enter the conversation. “We'll see ourselves out.”

“Good.” The two of us stand up – I grab a last kebab as I do – and make our way out. Emerald and Blueblood don't look at each other, but as we brush past Blueblood, I hear him mutter something that sounds like “sorry”. We get out as fast as we can without being seen and are soon out under the open night sky. We only get about a block away before I round on Emerald. “What the hay was that? You're so fired up to make sure Scales isn't up to something and then you just leave? And why did you have to drag me into this? If you want to spy on my friend, I can't stop you, but you can at least leave me out of it.”

He nods. “Don't worry. I won't make you do this again.” He sighs and rubs one foreleg awkwardly. “I'm sorry. I guess I just... let myself get carried away and... Well, I'm sorry anyways. Ruby can make her mind about this on her own, she's a big girl. Probably has a better head on her shoulder than I do, judging by tonight. So, uh...” He glances up at me from under his mane. “Is this forgiven?”

“Hey.” I give him a soft punch in the shoulder. “It never happened.”

He gives a small smile. “I'm glad to hear that. I'm going to head back to the house. You coming?”

I shake my head. “No, I think I want to walk around for a bit, get a bit of a break. I'll see you in a little while.”

“Alright. Just don't wake up Iron or Silver when you get in – you have no idea what a nightmare it is to try to get them back to bed.”

I smirk. “Oh, I think I can imagine.” We turn and go our separate ways. I've finished my last kebab when I find my hooves taking me towards the town hall. I shrug. Why not? There's not that many other places to go this late at night other than back to the house. It'll at least give me a few minutes with some quiet. I unlock the door and I'm already in our office when I hear the sound of glass crunching underhoof. I frown. Did somepony accidentally knock over a lamp or something? Then again, I didn't feel any glass underhoof. I feel around for the lamp and find it right in its normal place. A quick strike of a match brings some light into the room – and illuminates a cloaked figure on the other side of the office.

I gape in surprise as the hooded pony swiftly turns back towards me. I only catch a glimpse of blue eyes reflecting the lamplight and a figure bent over a stack of papers on Blueblood's desk before the pony has turned and bolted towards one of the windows. “H-Hey, wait!” I call, darting after the intruder. But before I can make it halfway across the room, the figure leaps for the window, nimbly diving through it and out into the open air. I rush to the window. Even before I get there, the breeze and the reflection of moonlight on jagged edges of glass shows me the source of the crunch from earlier. I stick my head out the window, but the figure is nowhere to be seen, the only trace of its passing the sound of distant hoof beats, rapidly fading away. I gulp and turn back to the office. In the lamplight, I can see that a number of papers are spread across our desks or spilled onto the floor, boxes pulled off of shelves or opened.

This just got a lot more complicated.

Chapter 1: In Which Our Hero Has Regrets and Meets His Employer

The carriage bounces over a pothole in the road, jerking me out of my reverie. You'd think the road to Canterlot would be pristine, but apparently not. I lean my head back against the soft, plush seat back, which mostly – mostly – smoothed out any bumps in the roads. Except for that one, apparently. A private carriage might have seemed like an extravagance, but I had the money, and it left me alone with my thoughts, something I sorely needed right now.

Why did I agree to this?

Why did I think this was a good idea?

Okay, those are easy. I sigh. I've done a lot of that this trip. Bits. Shiny golden bits. Objectively – rationally – I understand why I accepted the job offer. The pay was – is – excellent. Working for the royal family does have its benefits, and getting paid directly by the royal treasury is one of them. Not that I was paid badly at my previous jobs. I was always well compensated for my work, enough to have a nice apartment, eat at good restaurants, have spending money for purchases or nights out on the town when I wanted it. But this would be a step up. I wasn't going to join the nobility on a palace salary, but it might let me save enough for a house in a Canterlot suburb. Not to mention the contacts would be excellent. Network with a few posh nobles, and when I moved on in a year or two, I'd have plenty of well-paying job offers lined up.

Why did I agree to this?

My previous employers loved me, clamored to have me back. Sure, they never knew what to call me – some called me consultant, some efficiency expert, others, a personal assistant or aide – but they all knew how valuable I was. I managed schedules, streamlined work flow, helped delegate tasks. I was my employer's right hand, anything they needed; I was ready and waiting. A million things behind the scenes to keep the wheels turning smoothly. I, Ink Blot, could have worked in any industry I wanted. So what possessed me to agree to this?

Blueblood.

If that stallion had kicked a puppy while simultaneously taking candy from a foal, I'm not sure he could be more derided and disliked than he is now. Famously arrogant, stuffy, self-absorbed, self-obsessed, rude, vain... I could go on like this for quite a while, I think. And now I am to be his personal assistant. It won't be so bad, I thought. I'm sure I can develop a working relationship, figure something out. I always have. I thought, I thought, I thought.

Come on, Ink Blot, pull yourself together! Enough with the moping around! You're a professional; act like one. I glance out the window. We're not far away from the palace now, better make sure I'm ready. I pull a small mirror out of my saddlebags and take stock of myself. Two chartreuse eyes stare back at me, and I nod in satisfaction. Everything in order. I take a deep breath, my jaw set with determination. I could do this. I would do this. No matter what.

The carriage stops at the palace gates. A guard ambles around the side, asks me to state my business. I nod to him politely and hoof over my letter of introduction. He takes it, reads it over, hoofs it back, and gives me a sympathetic look. “Go on ahead. The guards inside can show you where to go.”

“Thanks. Switch with me?” He laughs at that. I was only mostly joking.

The gate swings open and the carriage starts rolling again. This might be my last chance to turn back. If I jumped out and ran now, I might be able to make it. No. I'm a professional, and professionals have standards. I made this bed; time to lie in it.

The carriage stops at the entrance to the palace. It is quite grand, I suppose. Lots of shining white marble, checker-boarded with slightly darker marble, golden arches. It only takes a moment to unload – I travel light, saddlebags and one good sized suitcase. I tip the carriage drivers and watch them disappear down the long pathway. I brush a speck of dirt off my light tan coat, take one more deep breath, and turn and stride inside. The red carpet is pleasantly soft under my hooves. Another pair of guards wait just inside the entrance, their spears crossed in front of me. My letter of introduction is once again sufficient to get me by. I consider stopping by my room to drop off my things first, but I don't actually know where my room is, and neither do the guards, so it looks like I'll be going to meet the Prince. One of them is kind enough to offer directions. Up the stairs, right hallway, three floors up, around the corner, third door on the right.

As I walk, some of the servants give me curious glances. Some of them just ignore me, too absorbed in their own duties or too used to seeing strange ponies to care. I pass a few more guards, some on patrol, some seemingly standing guard over specific rooms, but none of them check me. They probably assume that since I got this far and I'm not sneaking around, then I'm supposed to be here. Then again, I'm not the most physically impressive stallion, even for an Earth pony. Not that I'm weak, mind you, but my job certainly entails much more writing than weight-lifting. They probably figure that even if I tried something, I'd be easy to stop. Or maybe they just don't care if I assassinate the Prince. I wonder if anyone would stop me if I tried.

I shake my head. That's a great way to start off a business relationship, wondering if you could get away with your employer's murder. Grade A work there, Ink Blot, that's going on your annual performance review. 'Considered plotting employer's murder'. That'll look great.

I'm here. Either it was faster than I thought, or I was too absorbed in my thoughts to notice. The door is right in front of me. Nice type of wood, though I couldn't tell you what. Probably very expensive. His name is engraved on a gold plate on the door. Prince Blueblood's Private Rooms. Knock before Entering. I roll my eyes. At least it doesn't say 'This means you' like some kind of foal's 'keep out' sign. I blink. Wait a minute, there's another smaller line of text under the first. I lean in, squinting to get a better look at the shrunken type.

This means you.

Well. Is there a handy window nearby? I feel the urge to defenestrate myself.

Instead of leaping to the blissful oblivion of shattering glass and gravity, I sigh a deep, long sigh. I have the feeling I'm going to need to do a lot more sighing before I'm done here. I brush a stray olive green hair out of my eyes, raise my hoof and rap at the door. No answer. I knock again. Maybe he's not in? Well, I knocked, so I guess now I'm allowed to enter. It's not locked, so I open the door just a bit and poke my head through.

The room beyond is definitely expensive. My eyes pan over the luxurious sitting room – there's a trio of chairs in the center around a small coffee table, and a long sofa against one wall. Both are richly upholstered and look very, very soft. They also probably cost more than all of my possessions combined. A few paintings hang on the walls – mostly landscapes of Canterlot, including a 'Canterlot Through the Seasons' series. Two abstract ones, splashes of color against a white background, set apart from the others on one wall. None of the Princesses – I guess it is a little weird having portraits of family members hanging in your sitting room when you can just go talk to them. There's a number of bookcases scattered around the room, a variety of hardbacked books lining their shelves. Most look like they've never been opened; they were probably arranged for artistic effect, not for actual reading.

A trio of doors lead off from the room, one in each wall. I can hear the sound of water running from the one on the right. “Hello? Prince Blueblood? It's Ink Blot, your new personal assistant. Are you here?”

A voice wafts through the right-hand door. It's him. Cultured, refined, sophisticated – and somehow managing to sound completely stuck-up. “Ah! Excellent, you're here! I'll be out in a few moments, just let yourself in. My study is on the left.”

“I still have my bags with me, is that alright?”

“Perfectly fine, just leave them in the sitting room.” Well, this is going well so far. We've only said about a dozen words to each other, but still! Progress. I stand my suitcase up against the wall and shrug my saddlebags off. The carpet is embroidered with a large design; it looks like some kind of historical scene, but I have no idea what. I recognize Princess Celestia, some griffons, and that's about it. The door to the study opens with a soft creak. The room beyond is surprisingly light and airy. A large set of floor to ceiling windows takes up most of one wall, swung open onto a small balcony over the castle courtyard. The breeze ripples the long white curtains, which practically glow in the mid-morning sunlight.

The walls are once again lined with bookshelves, but these look like they're actually used. A large, ornate desk sits with its back to one wall, clearly placed to allow its occupant to look out the window. Another sits at a right angle to it, facing the door; from the looks of it, this one was added recently. The first desk is covered in stacks of papers and small mounds of books, some propped against others with tabs to hold pages open. I pace around the desk, peering at the titles of some of the books. Precedents in Equestrian-Griffon Laws: 4th Century - 7th Century PB. Equestrian Unified Civil Code, Volume IX. A History of Interspecies Commerce Laws. Law books? Big ones at that. I pan my gaze over the assembled papers. Some are letters, most written in a tight, neat hoof – the writing of an educated pony. Others are more varied. Some are printed documents, governmental notices, excerpts from more law codes. What's all this stuff doing here? There are a lot of stories about Prince Blueblood, but I don't recall any of them describing him as being a heavy reader.

I turn my gaze to the walls. A number of letters hang in frames on the wall. Rejection letters, maybe? I smirk, then blink in surprise. They're... letters of thanks and praise, all addressed to somepony named Scales. I skim over some of them.

Dear Mr. Scales, I wish to offer my thanks for the legal opinion you offered in our recent immigration case. Your insightful analysis and incorporation of historical immigration patterns was of utmost use...

Mr. Scales, I wish to thank you for the legal brief you contributed to my defense. I know that I wouldn't have been acquitted without it. If you're ever in Las Pegasus, I owe you a drink...

Dear Mr./Mrs. Scales, Your contributions to our latest volume, Looking Forward: Rethinking Equestrian Law for the Future, have been very well received by our readers. It is always a pleasure to feature work from such a distinguished scholar as yourself...

Who in the hay is Scales? Friend of his? I didn't think the Prince had any friends.

“Ah, good. You seem to be settling in well.” I spin around – a little faster and jumpier than I would have liked. He's standing in the doorway, amber mane perfectly groomed, his coat a gleaming white. I feel under-dressed. His teeth practically shine as he smiles. He trots over to me and extends a hoof to shake. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Ink Blot.”

I blink in surprise. He's... greeting me politely. I was not prepared for this. I think I might have stared a little. Luckily, I recover before it becomes too awkward and return the shake.

“Likewise, your highness. I look forward to working with you.” He waves my comment/blatant lie away as he strolls over to the book-covered desk.

“Oh, please. 'Your highness' won't be necessary. You may address me as Blueblood, or Prince or Sir if you really must.” Now I really do stare. He's.. being casual? I had expected condescension, dismissal, arrogance... not being asked to address royalty on a first name basis. Maybe this won't actually be so bad? Fat chance. More likely the true Prince has yet to rear his ugly and snobbish head.

“Is that a problem?” He blinks at me, seemingly confused by my lack of response. I shake my head to clear my thoughts.

“No, sir, not at all. Still settling into Canterlot.”

“I see.” He smiles at me. He actually smiles. “Canterlot's a fascinating city, but it can be a bit overwhelming. Is this your first time?”

“Not exactly. Two years ago I worked with the Educational Licensing Bureau as a consultant. It is my first time in the palace, though.”

Blueblood claps his hooves together, seemingly in delight. This emotion seems very strange on him. “Well, in that case I shall have to make sure you get a proper tour at some point. But until then, would you care for an introduction as to what we'll be doing?”

I give him a small, lopsided grin. “Yes, if you don't mind. The job description was a little vague as to exactly what kind of work I'd be helping with...”

He shakes his head and takes a seat at the desk. “Not a problem at all. I specifically requested the posting be rather vague – I prefer to work in private.” I frown. Why would his work be private? He might not be one of the Princesses, but he's still royalty and a prominent member of Canterlot social circles.

“What kind of work will we be doing that it needs to be kept so quiet?” I gulp as an unpleasant thought crosses my mind. “We won't be doing anything top secret or illicit, will we?” Was this job opportunity a setup? Is the Prince involved in some kind of illegal underground group? Is he a gangster or a smuggler? Or is he part of some kind of secret branch of the government that abducts rebellious ponies in the night?

Blueblood throws his head back and laughs, jolting me out of my fears. It's not malicious or rude, not a villainous 'muwhahaha' – it's a laugh of honest, simple amusement, and it's contagious. I can feel the corners of my mouth twitching upwards in a smile against my will. My worries of a minute ago seem silly all of a sudden. Of course he's not involved in anything secret – I doubt they'd advertise in professional circles if they were.

“Of course not! Quite the opposite, in fact.” He uses his magic to pull the chair over from the other desk and gestures for me to sit. I take the proffered chair with a nod of thanks. “I am a legal scholar, though I have no official title. While I do not rule on cases – that is my aunts' purview – I am often called upon to offer opinions in cases, write legal briefs, and conduct research. I also write for professional journals, correspond with other professionals in my field, and otherwise participate in all of the activities expected of an academic. Do you have any questions so far?”

I shift uncomfortably in my chair. Yes, as a matter of fact, I have many, many questions. Since when are you a legal scholar, to say nothing of being an academic? Why is this not public knowledge? Who would trust you with this kind of authority? Of course, these aren't the type of questions you generally want to ask an employer to their face, so I settle for a simpler one. “Er... just one. The job description didn't say anything about requiring legal expertise, and I'm not a lawyer, so...” I trail off. I hate the idea of admitting to my employer – on the first day, no less – that I wasn't up to the task, but if I didn't have the skills, I didn't have the skills.

He waves my concerns away. “Don't worry – I shall provide the expertise. I shall merely require your organizational talents.” He glances up at me from the papers in front of him. “You are an organization expert, are you not?”

I bristle at that. Getting defensive might not have been the best idea when face to face with royalty, but I couldn't help it. I'm good at what I do, and I know it. “Of course I am! I'm the best.”

He smiles again. “Good. While I maintain that I am quite capable of finding everything I need, some ponies,” and here he shoots a glance upwards, “insist that I need some help in keeping things organized.” I cast a glance over the desk. Now that I examine in detail, it was in worse shape than I first thought – papers strewn everywhere with little organization, books piled haphazardly on top of each other, scrolls balanced precariously upon towers of paper. I might not use the term disaster area, but I wouldn't deny it if somepony else did. “In addition, I will require your aid with more general matters, assisting with research, coordination with legal libraries and archives around the country, correspondence and the like.” He raises an eyebrow. “Do you think you can handle it?”

I grin. Now this is more like it. Time to get down to business. “I know I can.”

“Excellent.” He claps his hooves together once. “That will be your desk over there. I can have the servants move it if you desire.”

“That's mine? I thought it was your partner's.” He blinks in surprise and stares at me in confusion.

“My who?”

I frown. “Scales? You know, the pony who receives all of those letters?” I point to the frames hanging on the wall. “I just assumed that was his or her desk.” His muzzle twitches, like he's trying to keep a straight face and only mostly succeeding.

“Well, yes, Mr. Scales does work here, but he's very private. He doesn't like to work with other ponies very much in order to maintain his privacy.”

“Why does he do that?” I frown. From the letters, he almost seems like a celebrity – or as much of a celebrity as you can be in academic legal circles, at least. So not very much like a celebrity at all, now that I think about it.

“I believe that he prefers to let his work stand on its own merits, so that ponies won't judge his writings based on his name or family.”

I feel the light bulb click on. I raise my hoof and point at the unicorn sitting in front of me, though I'm not really sure why. “You're Scales!”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Brilliant deduction,” he replies, his voice deadpan. I feel my cheeks burn a little. Okay, so it's not like I've solved the crime of the century, but still! Gimme a little credit! He leans back in his chair, a hoof draped over his forehead and a melodramatic sigh escaping his lips. “Alas, my secret identity has been revealed, despite all of my clever attempts to hide it from the public.”

I smirk. “Laying it on a little thick, aren't you?” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I feel my eyes widen. I'm certain that I've overstepped the lines. I've had some employers that I felt comfortable feeling familiar with, but only after working together for quite a while. Less than an hour is not quite a while. Blueblood, to my amazement, does not get huffy. He does not seem to take offense. Instead, he chuckles, and I feel my heart resume normal functioning.

“Perhaps I am. But yes, Scales is my alias. I chose the name from the metaphorical scales of justice – quite clever, don't you think? I was quite pleased myself when I thought of it. I use it so that ponies will judge my work on its own, rather than on my name. It also offers me privacy, which is something a high society pony such as myself gets precious little of. Besides,” he cocks an eyebrow, “do you think many ponies would come to the notorious Prince Blueblood for legal advice?” He pauses and holds a hoof to his chin in thought. “On second thought, don't answer that.”

His voice grows more serious, and he fixes me with an appraising look. “That said, I trust that you can keep this between us? There are very few ponies who know of my alternate identity, and I would prefer to keep it that way. Your previous employers spoke well of your discretion – I trust I may rely on you?”

I nod. “Of course, sir. Nopony else will find out from me.”

He smiles. “Excellent. This way I won't have to have you killed to preserve my secret.” I blanch, but the twinkle in his eye assures me that's he's joking. He reaches out with his magic and tugs on a small rope strung along the wall, and I hear a bell tinkle in the hallway outside. “I shall have a servant show you where your rooms are, and then shall we get to work?”

I grin back at him. “Sounds great to me, Prince.”