I've been said by many of my peers[1]
[1] Guards, apprentices, relatives, chess rivals, scholars, lovers, unrequited lovers, non-violent criminal masterminds, etc.
to play a long game, and this is a declaration I must agree with. The example familiar to most would be that of Ponyville, Twilight Sparkle, the Elements of Harmony, and my dear sister Luna. It's true; I do set many plans into motion years before their intended fruition, working the pieces of the puzzle to obtain the desired result. Other times though, the metaphorical tree leans over and drops the fruit straight into my lap--or mouth, if I'm hungry.
This is shaping up to be one such time.
I trot at a leisurely pace through the castle halls. Friendly hellos and the usual overly-subservient bows greet me; everpony for the most parts appears to be in good spirits. Unsurprising considering it is the dawn of a new weekend and paintings are no longer disappearing off of said castle walls. To be honest, I'm slightly disappointed; I was looking forward to commissioning some new art. I believe I'll be keeping that sentiment to myself and away from my accountants. They're still smarting over the changeling invasion, as they should be.
But that is all in the past, I remind myself as I descend into the musty[2]
[2] Actually, we had it completely cleaned last month in light of the residue left by some... new arrivals. But I do love the word "musty".
dungeon. My intended conversationalist has changed his ways. Blank Slate, née Cuckoo Cloud--petitioner, servant, royal guard, illusionist, and master thief--has turned himself in, after a most... serendipitous conversation we had two nights ago. Now, we're about to have a much less one-sided conversation, one I'm honestly looking forward to.
I supplement the dim glow of firefly lamps with an illumination spell, and locate the cell he's being held in. The parrish blue occupant seems to be occupied, and I discretely turn and wait. Soon enough, the sound of running water ceases, and I walk into view, smiling perhaps tighter than usual.
"Princess Celestia!" he announces, flicking the last droplets off his feathers, and I return with a gentle "Hello, Cuckoo Cloud."
His enthusiasm momentarily gutters[3]
[3] Gutter: (of a candle or flame) flicker and burn unsteadily.
, and he remarks softly, "I see you still remember my name."
"Well," I chuckle, "I don't believe I'll be forgetting it anytime soon. Are you not fond of it?"
"Actually," he says, sitting on a cot facing me through the prison bars, "I prefer 'Blank Slate'. Or at least, I think I do."
"Very well, Blank Slate." I produce a good old fashioned key from under a wing, and unlock the cell door. Then I motion with that wing for him step out.
He looks at me, surprise written on his face. He makes no effort to move, instead flicking his brilliant yellow tail idly.
"Have you so soon grown accustomed to your posh accomidations?" I tease.
"Oh no, Your Honor. I hate jail. Can barely spread my wings in here, you see?" He attempts to illustrate, spreading his wings just fine, and blushes. "Well, I mean, metaphorically speaking."
"Right. Then come along, let's talk." I rock the door gently on its hinges, producing a squeaking sound. "If you don't hurry I may change mind."
"Of course, of course," he stammers, and quickly trots out of the cell and into the hall where I sit waiting. To my pleasant surprise, he makes no attempt to swipe the keys from where they sit in the locking mechanism. We make our way out of the dungeon in tandem[4]
[4] Ever since a tragic incident in 476 and the subsequent upgrades to Canterlot's fire code, all passages in the castle have been made at least wide enough for two ponies to comfortably walk abreast, even the cool spiral staircases like the one we're now on.
, winding up the stairs from the lowest reaches of the castle. He keeps throwing nervous glances my way, licking his lips as if afraid to speak.
"This isn't a trap, if that's what you're wondering."
"Um, well, to be honest, I expected a lot more yelling."
I raise an eye as we reach the landing and trot out into the castle proper. "Would you like me to yell?"
"Oh. Oh no, that's quite alright, Your Majesty."
We wind through high arched hallways, and I realize that he probably already quite familiar with them. I make a conscious effort to steer him clear of the path he supposedly followed Thursday night. This being a multi-level building, that's hardly difficult. He's quiet now, probably still wondering why
Halls it seems he is in fact quite familiar with
"What's the catch?"
"You think there's a catch?"
"I know there's a catch."
"Nope, no catch. You're free to go, my little pony."
"Oh, well, um, I guess I'll be on my way then. Thank you for, um, believing in me?" He spreads his wings in preparation.
"Except..." I let slip the hook.[5] [5]Speaking of catch: Yes, I fish; no, not in public. I have plenty enough PR disasters as it is.
His head whips around. "Yes?
"Oh, nothing. Go on. Fly away." There's the line.
He shifts uneasily, still ready for takeoff. "Celestia, you operate on levels I couldn't even begin to imagine. Please don't be coy with me."
Sorry, CC, I think to myself, then remember his preferred name. Sorry BS, I... no that won't do; I'll burst out laughing. Sorry Blank Slate, I'm having too much fun with this. "Well, it's just, if you fly away now..." And sinker.
He takes off into the sky. Oops. Even princess overplay their hooves sometimes. I can fix this though. "Guess you're not interested in my proposal!" I yell.
He swoops around, circling back in a glide to a landing next to me. "Yeeeees?" And the fish bites.
"Tell me, Slate, what's your favorite restaurant in Canterlot?"
What's a few hundred bits more at this point?
A pescitarian, eh? I presume you've spent time in the company of griffons?
Seven years of my life, your majesty.
"Please, call me Celestia.
First Principle Sequel?:
And what if I say no?
There are a dozen ununiformed guards here. You do the math.
There's nothing like it. It's the greatest high in the world.
That's quite a statement coming from a pony surely familiar with Griffon liquor.
If you fly away now, you'll never hear my job offer.
You're dangerous, but you're not a threat, if that makes sense, I tell him.
My sister, bless her soul, is lacking in the subtlety department.
