A Princess in Time

The council chamber at the heart of the Crystal Palace was equipped with a round table, seamlessly grown out of the same crystal that made up the chamber itself and big enough to seat twenty. This was a routine meeting, so only half the seats were filled with various leaders and representatives from the Empire. Princess Thauma, ruler of the Crystal Empire, sat opposite the door. She wore a thin gold tiara with a heart design centered below the creamy sunset red of her horn. Her mane swept back from the tiara, pushed by a breath of invisible wind which sent purple waves scudding across the white field of her hair. She went naked other than the tiara, needing no symbols of wealth or power to establish who she was.

To Thauma's right sat Brightwork, the primarch of the crystalworkers' guild. She was an ancient crone, her face more wrinkles than crystal, but her eyes had only grown sharper with age. New councilmembers often took her stooped shoulders for weakness, only to be deftly maneuvered into a disadvantage by her agile tongue and quick wit. Now those sharp eyes met Thauma's blue ones. "Princess Thauma," she began slowly, as was her wont, "I must request an answer. My guild has suffered a loss by the actions of the weavers, and we require redress."

Thauma gritted her teeth, gently so that Brightwork would not notice. The weavers had purchased a warehouse that the crystalworkers had their eye on, using underhanded dealings according to the crystalworkers. Thauma had to walk a narrow path in this situation, and had been putting Brightwork off in the hopes that the guilds would come to some arrangement without her. The crystalworkers and the weavers were both powerful guilds, and she could not afford to set either one against her. They would bow to her will, but an offended guild could cause delays and problems throughout the city, and such roadblocks would inevitably cause problems elsewhere, and so on. Thauma had quietly initiated an investigation which had found no evidence of the wrongdoing the crystalworkers alleged, but telling Brightwork outright that she was wrong - or worse, lying - was as good as asking for trouble. But Thauma had arrived at no better ideas as she mulled the situation over, so she would have to deal with the civil problems as they arose. She sighed inwardly, her polite demeanor never failing, and opened her mouth.

"Princess Thauma, if I might?" The deep voice crossed the table effortlessly.

Thauma glanced over and met a pair of pale blue eyes. Despite their cold color, they always held warmth when they looked at her, and her chest heated in response as it always did. "Yes, Lord Sombra," she said, not letting her relief color her voice.

He inclined his head in a bow which included her and Brightwork. "Princess, it seems to me that the crystalworkers are in greater need of the warehouse in question than are the weavers, and the importance of the crystalworkers' guild to the Empire cannot be understated." Brightwork nodded, leaning fractionally forward.  "But the weavers are the owners of the warehouse under the law. If the crystalworkers need the warehouse, it benefits the Empire for them to have access to it. So perhaps the weavers might be convinced to rent out the warehouse to the crystalworkers at an advantageous rate."

Brightwork leaned back. The corners of her mouth pulled down and she scowled at Sombra. Thauma held her breath. Sombra's solution would give the crystalworkers what they wanted without depriving the weavers of just compensation. It was not what either party wanted, but was judicious enough that neither guild could refuse it outright without being seen as obstructive. At last, Brightwork nodded, a bare flick of the chin. "The crystalworkers' guild agrees to such an arrangement."

Thauma shot a grateful glance at Sombra. He replied with a tiny, secret smile meant for her eyes only. "We shall send a messenger to the weavers' guild and bring the necessary documents to your office, Primarch."

Brightwork stood with the help of her assistant. "I hope there will be no delays, Princess. Now I must bid the council farewell. There is much business to take care of elsewhere."

Thauma ignored the presumptuous phrasing. It was a good sign: it meant that she had no other outlet for her displeasure, which meant that her guild would not interfere in the city. "Farewell, Lady Brightwork. You are dismissed." She turned her attention to the sheaf of documents on the table before her. "Our next item is the disposition of the surplus harvest."

The representative from the farmers' guild perked up. He wore a sumptuous robe blazoned with his badge of office, as though trying to ensure that no one mistook him for the farmer he was. He was impolitic and always smelled faintly of fertiliser. His one redeeming quality was his grin, which sparkled as brightly as his coat and which he bestowed liberally. He bowed stiffly, still unaccustomed to the gesture after a year on the council. Thauma addressed him directly. "We have the reports concerning the harvest from your guild, Lord Fallowfield, but I hope you will summarize for me. How much are we at risk of losing to spoilage if action is not taken?"

He scratched his chin thoughtfully on the gilt hem of his sleeve. "A good three months' worth, maybe four. We've only so many silos and crofts and the like, after all. Nopony expected such a bumper crop, even after such a perfect spring."

Thauma included the chief wheelwright of the wagoneers' guild and the manager of the traders' guild in her glance. "Lady Gildhart, is there a market for such a surplus of grain? Lord Roadworth, could your wagons move that quantity if called to?"

Roadworth puffed out his chest and nodded firmly even before Gildhart spoke. She flipped through her notes for a moment and said, "The swamplands of Equestria suffered an unusually hot spring, and much of their harvest died in the fields. They will certainly need to import food before the winter. The High Aeries of the griffin lands customarily import food from the lowlands, but their long period of peace has put a strain on the lowlands' production. Fortunately, I have maintained certain connections in the Aeries against just such an occasion as this. Between those two destinations, we should be able to relieve ourselves of all of our excess inventory."

"Very good. Make it so, please." Both of them bowed to her. Thauma checked her papers again. "That appears to be our final item of business, my ladies, my lords." Her train of thought was interrupted by a stodgy cough over her shoulder. She smiled ruefully. "Yes, Primsley?"

The chief valet of the palace stared into the middle distance as she spoke. She wasn't uncouth enough to look directly at the princess, despite years of the princess's best efforts. "Princess Thauma, your royal sisters have sent word that they will be attending the Spring Rebirth Festival. They will arrive two weeks from today."

Thauma's smile had become genuine. "Wonderful. It has been too long. Thank you for the good tidings, Primsley."

"I live to serve, Princess."

Across the table, no one noticed Sombra's jaw clench.