Motions! Procedures! Calls to order!
Twilight skipped giddily through the door to the royal booth overlooking parliament. It was so exciting! Important issues of the nation were debated and defended here every day!
She just couldn’t understand why Celestia followed her in groaning, levitating a large mug of coffee.
“Oh, I can’t believe it!” Twilight gushed. “My first day of parliament! Oh, what do you think they will be covering today?”
Celestia took her seat, and sipped on her coffee. “Probably something banal and mundane. You know the real work happens out there, not in here… right?”
Twilight hummed noncommittally as she took her seat next to Celestia.
Their booth was high enough that they could see over the entire senate, but far back enough that none of the senators could see them. This would allow the princesses to oversee, without any stray looks or nods being interpreted as taciturn approval of whatever the current speaker was rambling on about.
That is, it would be, if Twilight Sparkle were not practically hanging over the rail, staring intently at the senators marching in to their seats, giving hearty waves to the few politicians she knew.
Celestia sighed. Twilight was sweet and innocent in the ways of politics. She had no idea what politicians—even those who claimed to be her friends—would do with such a public display of royal approval.
“Come, Twilight, sit here next to me,” Celestia patted the cushioned seat next to her. “Session is about to start.”
Twilight did as she was told, buzzing in her seat in excitement.
“By His Excellency, the Right Honorable Truly Humble, Earl of Vanhoover, a Member of Her Majesty’s Most Honorable Privy Council, Knight Grand Cross of the Most Distinguished Order of Equestria, Knight Grand Cross of the Royal—”
Twilight giggled. “For someone named Truly Humble, he certainly has a lot of titles.”
Celestia nodded. “He certainly does. You’ll note, as well, he also nominated himself as speaker of the proclamation today too.”
A polite knock on the door behind them alerted the princesses to the entry of one of the attendants.
“Would Your Majesties care for some tea or pastries?” the attendant asked, her head bowed low.
“Yes, I believe I will have two slices of carrot cake, a slice of banana cake, and another coffee,” Celestia answered, levitating her now empty cup. “That should at least get us through the proclamation.” Celestia held a wing tip to her muzzle, and giggled into it.
“Would you like anything, Your Majesty?” the attendant asked, facing (though still bowed) towards Twilight.
“Oh, umm… could I have a coffee, black and none,” she said, humming. “Oh, and I don’t know if you have any baklava?” She turned to Celestia. “I have had a craving for baklava ever since the delegates from Saddle Arabia visited.”
“I will ask one of the chefs to prepare some right away,” the attendant replied, taking Celestia’s empty cup.
“Oh, no! Please, don’t make—”
Twilight gave up as the attendant exited the booth.
“It’s okay, Twilight,” Celestia chuckled. “The chefs will be very happy to accommodate us.”
“… And whereas on the fifth day of March, One Thousand and Six, the Parliment was prorogued until the fourteenth day of April, One Thousand and Six, and it is expedient to further prorogue the said Parliament. Now, therefore, I, Truly Humble, Earl of Vanhoover, a Member of Her Majesty’s Most Honorable Privy Council, Knight Grand Cross of the Most Distinguished Order of Eques—”
“Didn’t we just hear that part?” Twilight asked, confused. “Like, ten minutes ago.”
“The Right Honorable Truly Humble enjoys reminding ponies of his titles.”
“So when will the proclamation be finished?” Twilight asked.
“In another forty minutes, if I might make an educated guess.”
“Forty minutes?” Twilight’s eyes shot open wide.
“Yes,” Celestia answered, holding a hoof to her chin. “I believe so. Truly Humble is living up to his name today—for expediency sake, I guess—by dropping about nineteen of his thirty-seven titles from the proceedings.”
“Is the Minister of Trade and Customs yet in a position to furnish the Senate with any information regarding the number and names of the growers of cigar leaf in the district of West Point, Vanhoover, who have received the bounty?”
“I caused inquiries to be made concerning the names of persons to whom the bounty had been paid on tobacco leaf for the manufacture of cigars in West Point,” a portly earth-pony mare replied, as she stood up from her seat, “and a report has just been received from the Collector in Vanhoover to the effect that no bounty was paid during last year.”
“We have read this report, Speaker, and have found that—”
“Celestia?” Twilight whispered.
“Yes, Twilight?”
“I thought that tobacco, and tobacco products, had been made illegal twenty-nine years ago.”
“Yes, they were,” Celestia said, nodding. “I signed that one into law myself.”
“Then why are they still debating about bounties for growing and manufacture of illegal products?”
“Well, you see,” Celestia explained, “Vanhoover farmers have relied quite heavily on the sale of tobacco products over the last one-hundred years, before the ban. Once the ban came into effect, the tobacco farmers and tobacconists lost their income, which threatened to plunge Vanhoover into a economic depression. So the state has been paying a bounty to the farmers and tobacconists to keep the Vanhooven economy afloat.”
“What happens to the product?” Twilight asked. “I mean, it’s not like it can be sold.”
“Oh, no, it’s not sold,” Celestia replied. “It’s destroyed. Large bonfires of tobacco and tobacco cigars are burned every month.”
“But that’s… that’s just stupid!” Twilight yelled.
As silence permeated the hall, Twilight realised her mistake.
“V-Very well,” the Speaker called. “The call for the re-allotment of Royal Garden funds towards the upkeep of Orphanages will be suspended for this time—”
Twilight held her hoof over her mouth in horror. What had she done?
Celestia sighed. “I know it is silly, Twilight. Every year, I try to get the bounties repealed, and every year somepony mentions the newest generation of foals with tobacco or tobacconist related cutie marks that would be plunged into abject poverty—”
“But it’s just perpetuating the cycle!” Twilight hissed. “Without a tobacco industry, the number of colts and fillies getting cutie marks in tobacco related—Wait! How does a foal get a tobacco related cutie mark? Even when it was legal, the legal age for purchasing, growing, harvesting or producing was at least eighteen years of age.”
Celestia replied with a shrug.
“—to know if the Vice President of the Executive Council is now in a position to furnish the information which I asked for recently regarding the forthcoming Inter-Imperial Conference on the subject of wireless telegraphy?”
A crystal stallion stood, addressing his fellow senator. “The conference will be attended by the representatives from the Admiralty, Crystal Empire, the High Commissioner for the Northern Continents, and presided over by the Postmaster-General. The purpose of the Conference will be to inquire into the question of wireless tele—”
“Thank you,” Celestia said, as the attendant set down the two cups of tea.
The attendant backed out the door, her muzzle pointed to the floor as she left.
“Try this, Twilight,” Celestia said, as she levitated her tea to her lips.
For her part, Twilight was lounged over the arms of her chair, draped uncomfortably as she squirmed.
“This is sooooooooooo boring!” she moaned. “How can you do this every day?”
“Try the tea. It has a little bit of ginseng in it, it’ll perk you right up.” Celestia smiled as the rush of chemicals pumped through her system. “Little trick King Auris of the Griffon Aeries taught me. Apparently politics are boring everywhere.”
Twilight sat back upright, and levitated the tea to her lips.
It was horrendous. What ever manner of monster (she chastised herself for calling griffons ‘monsters’) came up with this idea? Seconds later, though, she felt the chemical buzz flit through her system.
“Wow!” Twilight gasped. “With that, I could sit through hours of parliament!”
“Well, that’s good!” Celestia beamed. “Because we haven’t even gotten through the questions yet.”
Twilight laid back down and groaned.
Three hours later, and the speaker called for the suspension of sitting for an hour.
Twilight jumped to her hooves as the bell rang.
“Oh thank merciful Celestia,” Twilight groaned, as she cracked every vertebrae in her back. “So where are we going for lunch?”
“We aren’t going anywhere, Twilight,” Celestia said. “Or, at least, I’m not. You are free to head out if you wish.”
“You… you don’t want to have lunch with me?” Twilight asked with hurt in her voice.
“Oh, I would love to have lunch with you,” Celestia answered. “But between us and our escape are ninety-eight senators. Forty-three of which will likely want to thank you personally for keeping our royal parks beautiful… and the rest probably wanting to ask you where you believe parentless foals should sleep tonight.”
“Oh,” Twilight said, slumping to the floor.
“Do not worry, Twilight,” Celestia assured her. “The majority want the proposal to go through. They will try again in a decade or two, when your outburst has been forgotten.”
Twilight did not respond. Thoughts flitted through her mind, of a young purple-maned pegasus filly, forced to scavenge through rubbish bins for a meal, sleeping in a dusty old tree fort with nothing but a soiled cardboard box for a blanket.
“Actually, I believe Cadance was leading that particular bill… having been an orphan herself, she was quite passionate about the matter.” Celestia added. “It is a shame she wasn’t here today! In fact, I suspect your next dinner with her and Shining Armor will be awkward.”
A small orange coated filly with a purple mane stood next to Shining Armor and Cadance. “How could you be so callous?” the stallion asked. “This filly is my new L.S.B.F.F! We don’t want anything to do with you anymore!”
“Oh,” Celestia said, a perky tone in her voice. “Twilight, our lunch is here!”
“We seem to occupy a rather strange position in reference to this measure,” Colonel Field responded. “The Vice-President of the Executive Council has said that it is Senator Needy’s Bill. If that be so, I wish to know why it has been taken out of the hooves of the honorable senator? If it be Senator Needy’s Bill, he should be handling it at this stage.”
Senator Needy stood, stroking his thick, greasy mane. “It left my hooves when the Senate passed it—”
“But the practice in all properly regulated Legislatures is for a Bill which has been introduced by a private member, and which has been returned to the originating Chamber,” Colonel Field objected, “to be taken charge of by its author!”
“Not if the Government adopted it,” Senator Trenderhoof shouted. “And I adopted it long before the Government even considered it—”
“Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease,” Twilight begged. She was on her knees, prostrate before Celestia.
“I am sorry, Twilight, but the answer is still no.”
“Just a little bit?”
“Twilight, I will not allow you to assume The Nightmare’s power to overthrow our needlessly complex and ineffectual political system.”
“I wouldn’t depose you,” Twilight pleaded. “I promise! In fact, I’d keep the current royalty, and just… get rid of… the rest.”
“Twilight, I know exactly how much you want to… ‘get rid of’… the rest,” Celestia said, using her hooves to make air quotes. “Believe me, we’ve all been there! But you can’t just get rid of Equestria’s elected officials. Therein lies the road to ‘Beloved Leader’.”
Twilight crossed her arms and harrumphed. “Fine! We’ll do it your way!”
“Thank you.”
“I wish to ask a question which may save time—” the Senate broke out into light chuckles “—in dealing with this Bill. When we were considering it sometime ago, there was a discussion as to whether certain stamp duties and charges should be reduced. Shortly afterwards, action was taking in New—”
Celestia sighed. She had had nearly enough of this today, and it seemed politics had also lost its luster for her young companion.
“Twilight,” Celestia whispered. “Want to ditch this session early and go fuck?”
“Oh thank you,” Twilight replied, throwing her forehooves into the air. “I thought you’d never ask!”
