Transparency: Q. Mint Jewelip

Kibitz trotted down one of the countless corridors of the Canterlot Palace, checklist floating beside him as he skillfully dodged servant, guard, and petitioner alike. He had been one of Celestia's trusted assistants for going on three decades, and in that time he had mastered the fine art of punctual efficiency. Between scheduling meetings with foreign delegates, orchestrating celebrations, managing the nobility, maintaining order with the petitioners, and making sure that his princess maintained a proper degree of nutrition in her diet (to offset the ~'biological requirement for cake that all alicorn share'~ that she assured him was true), he had become rather adept at staying on time. There was work to do and minor inconveniences such as tripping down a long flight of stairs, injuring himself on a damaged bit of pottery, or being impaled by a careless guard simply didn't fit into his rather tight schedule.

So, it was with only minor displeasure that his trip to the royal kitchens had seen the delivery of a missive from the Royal Aquisitioner... the official 'getter of foodstuffs', as Kibitz quietly thought to himself. Getting a missive simply meant a slight adjustment to his schedule of course.... Kibitz was nothing if not adaptable.

Flicking the envelope open with his magic, he quickly scanned the hastily scrawled message and felt his ears dip back in a momentary showing of ... no, it wouldn't be displeasure... more accurately: tension.

Of course there had to be an issue with the delivery of the tea. It only showed up by the crate-ful every three days after all.

Schooling his ears back into their prim posture, Kibitz glanced down his list and penned in "visit the Royal Culinarian" just below the new line "adjust tea deliveries to account for a three week surplus for future shipments". Kibitz nodded to himself... never a dull moment.

Well then, if her Royal Majesty's tea was unavailable, perhaps something a bit more lively then her usual brew? Ah yes, a fine red tea perhaps. Roobois with a hint of lemon and rosehips to stir the blood. He knew it wasn't her precious royal blend but, with all due respect, she could stand a touch of variety in her tea habits. He had been blending and brewing the stuff for decades, had won awards and international acclaim for his teas and, even though she politely sampled his blends and thanked him with praises unequaled, she always returned to her precious blend... imported from a single merchant... for centuries uncounted.

Apparently it was a family secret. One that was particularly lucrative for the grower. One that was exclusive to her Royal Majesty herself. Kibitz sniffed briskly as he glanced at his list, a small sachet of non-royal-blend floating beside him as he moved on to the next item of his list.

Ah yes... find out about the noisome crowd in the antechamber.

Quickly flicking a stray feather into a wastebasket that had somehow evaded the swarm of maids and waitstaff, he trotted out of the kitchens and back towards the throne room, pausing at a corner to listen in on the commotion.

Hmmm.... nobles. Angry about this or that. Frustrated about whinny and wile. Indignant about pomp and circumstance!

He made sure no one was able to see him before he rolled his eyes.

Of course they were upset.

They were nobles.

They had only three settings: upset, incensed, and insensate. Well, with the phenomenally rare exception of being helpful.

Taking just a moment longer to listen to the unimaginative threats and puffery, Kibitz straightened his jacket and came around the corner only to come to an abrupt, and entirely unexpected stop... nose only an inch from a rather blustery stallions nethers.

No, Kibitz did not stutter of stagger, and he most certainly did not run face first into a noble's rear end. Celestia knows enough of them have such on both ends of their bodies but, no, Kibitz was a fine specimen of pony practitioner of proper proceedural poise and posture. He never overextended himself and thus, was able to stop just shy of inserting his muzzle in the rather large plothole of Sir Blustery Gables.

Politely, and immediately sidestepping, Kibitz blinked back his shock at the unusually large crowd.

His quill added another note to his list: "Request additional Guard to disperse crabby nobles".

Turning, Kibitz retreated once more and stepped into a narrow servants hallway to navigate around the crowd. There were no doors to stop any from following him of course, but the very nature of the beast that was a Canterlot noble was biologically opposed to stepping off polished marble or gilded floors. Lest said floor happened to be crystal of the finest grain or magnificent to the degree of seizure, not a one of those fops would be caught dead 'fraternizing' with the 'help'.

Kibitz smirked before schooling his features once again and turning the corner into the "Rumor Mill."

The room, such as it was, was little more than a dropping place for collected information. Various sources throughout the palace, and indeed kingdom, would send word of events. A number of specialists would sort through them, filtering out nonsense and speculation, distilling the essence of truth from the festering cesspool of wonton foolishness. Ultimately, the particulars didn't matter. At the end of the chain, one very careful individual passed along messages of import that he would collect for perusal by their Royal Highnesses.

Kibitz scanned over the short note and frowned.

Changeling invasion? Another one? Ah, but at least it was easily stopped. Strange though that the species known for their guile and deceptive magics had attacked again so quickly... and so ineffectively.

Well, if it was getting to him, it was more than just rumor or nonsense. It was something that the princesses needed to know about, albeit once his list was finished.

After all, Celestia was already aware of the invasion... she had dined with the creatu...with her guest, and had been told a great number of things. Things she was currently going over on her own while the guard kept her guest 'company'.

One more thing on his list.

And right as he was turning to leave, two more missives fell through the slot, landing upon the tiny desk for him to look over.

A number of the Guard were storming through the palace towards the throne room? Unusual, but given the 'invasion' not unexpected.

Aaaand, the baker is nearly out of flour after all the celebrations from defeating the Changelings at the wedding.

Splendid.

Two more things on his list.

And another missive?

Kibitz frowned, knowing full well that no one would see him breaking his guise.

Celestia's pet phoenix has been molting for three days longer than expected and has apparently decided that it would be funny to finally combust whilst in the royal alchemy lab..... setting off a number of experiments that has resulted in an unpleasant smell that will linger for days.

Kibitz eye twitched. He had vacation coming up.

Ah..... At least Sweet and Savory (the Royal Culinarian) decided to take her vacation NEXT week... so she can tease the 'normal' tea to taste like Celestia's favorite.

-~oOo~-

Sleep Dep raised an eyebrow as she took a seat in the Throne Room antechamber. Thick, plush, cushions adorned elegant seats benches of cut marble while heavy drapes played courtesan with a number of intricately detailed stained glass windows. Numerous potted plants, both flowering and not, lined the spacious room, helping to offset the feeling of such a large stone edifice being somewhat... uncomfortable.

Sleep Dep took a sip of her coffee, eyeing the nearest bust... some long forgotten noble with a talent for something she, in all likelihood, would never care in the least about.

"Absolutely ridiculous," she muttered, mostly to herself.

"Oh? I dare say that Sir Winded was quite well respected in his day," came the response of a mauve colored mare wearing enough silver to be mistaken for a drawer of cutlery. "You might not know it from looking at his face, but Sir Winded was a master orator... it was said he was solely responsible for putting down the Griffon rebellion of 298 A.N."

Sleep Dep closed her eyes, thought long and hard about her response, and then promptly smiled.

"Oh, why yes! How utterly amazing!" Internally Sleep Dep was trying not to puke. "That's astounding! Griffons, no less! However did he do it?"

If the nobelmare beside her had even the slightest notion of self-preservation, she would have been seeking a life raft for the sheer volume of bull that Sleep's excitement had been steeped in. Sadly, and much to Sleep's displeasure, the noblemare seemed as if she hadn't heard a word of the snarky reply.

"Oh, indeed. Sir Winded had heard of the attacking forces and pushed through to the front! While Celestia's own guards fled the field of battle, he took a stand upon a pile of broken stonework and called out to the masses." The mare fanned herself idly, "He spoke so eloquently, and with such conviction, that the griffon forces were simply held in awe until the Princess' reinforcements could arrive." She leaned in close, Sleep biting back the urge to club the brain-dead pile of horse-flesh. "Such a stallion. They don't come like him anymore."

Sleep Dep inhaled sharply.

Delays, she could handle. Cushions, she could tolerate. Idiotic brain dead festering fan-girls of long dead pompous wastes of flesh.... she could almost ignore. But this?

This could not be allowed.

Sleep took one last sip of her cooling coffee and popped her neck.

"You know, I already knew that Canterlot ponies were dumber than rocks from the fact that they built the largest stone structure of their capital city... HANGING off a cliff face with a shear drop of thousands of feet into the real of certain death, but I didn't think they could honestly be as brain dead as you, without putting in some serious effort."

Sleep reached out and pushed the bust from the plinth, watching at the carving smashed upon the palace's stonework as the mare beside her gasped.

"BUUUUUT, since your skull seems to be specifically designed to deflect learning of any sort, short of blunt force trauma inflicted by the hormone addled plot of whatever flank-chasing bastard you happen to be drooling over at the moment, let me make this exceptionally clear for you: I DON'T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT YOUR LITTLE FAN-GASM TRIVIA. I DON'T CARE TWO BITS ABOUT YOUR TITLE AND I DON'T NEED THE MINDLESS PRATTLE YOU THINK IS GOSSIP."

The mare staggered away, a look of utter horror upon her muzzle.

Sleep glared with all the wrath she could muster, daring the mare to say anything in response.

"B-but Sir Winded-"

"Was a mindless blowhard that likely stunned the entirety of the griffon race with the gibbering nonsense of the average citizen until Celestia herself saw fit to spare the world the suffering of even one more second of exposure to such agonizing intellectual poison?" Sleep stepped down from her seat, taking a single step toward the noblemare, "Something like that?"

"No! No! Nothing like that you insufferab-"

"Oh do shut up! The only reason you've even managed as long as you have is because Daddy and Mummy" Sleep stood upon her hind legs, folding her front in, under her chin as if hugging herself, "couldn't remember to pull out while someone was in heat."

Dropping back to the ground, Sleep snorted. "The only reason anypony even tolerates your voice is because they're all trying to figure out how to slip into your, no doubt, influential family, so realize what you are." Sleep wrinkled her nose, as if trying ignore a particularly foul odor. "A lump of breeding stock that no one wants to lose their investment on."

The mare, quivering and teary, bolted from the hall.

Sleep gave a thin lipped smile as she turned back to her seat, picked up her coffee, and sat down.

Across from her, the little group of four guards, holding a fifth captive in a steel yoke and manacles, stared openly.

One may have had a quivering lip.

Sleep Dep had no way of knowing that Lt. Long was a distant relative of Sir Winded... and would likely cry himself to sleep that night. Then again, if she had, she would have likely chuckled for the simple joy of it.