Humility Counseling

Later that day, as Canterlot basked in the slowly dimming glow of the afternoon sun, Blueblood slouched lazily in one of the armchairs in Bertram Shrink's office. He gazed at the ancient stallion, his face twisted in an expression of simultaneous boredom and contempt.

"Right. The second session of this abominable farce you call 'counseling'. I don't suppose you take bribes?"

Shrink smiled and shook his head.

"I'm afraid not. You're just going to have to sit through these sessions like everypony else."

Blueblood snorted in derision as he glanced furtively behind the old counselor. Near the back of the room, he could see Shrink's desk, almost entirely covered in papers, coffee mugs, and other detritus. The thing that caught his eye, however, was a large blue book that seemed to be at least a thousand pages end to end. It was clear to Blueblood that this book was where Shrink kept records of his patients, and while that information wasn't useful now, the Prince filed it away for later, just in case he ever needed dirt on the old coot.

Returning his mind to the conversation at hand, he muttered in reply.

"Fine. Ask your blasted questions and be done with it."

Shrink nodded slowly and clasped his hooves together in his lap, pen and paper at the ready.

"Very well. I'd like to ask you a bit more about your family life. You were born in 974, correct? That would make you twenty-six."

Blueblood looked at him scornfully.

"No, you fool, I'm twenty-eight. Do you not know basic math, or is your mind so screwed up that you can't remember what year it is?"

Shrink exhaled deeply, clearly uncomfortable with having made such a glaring mistake.

"I apologize. My mind is... not quite what it used to be. Yes, it's 1002 now, isn't it? A mere two years since Celestia's sister returned from a millennium of banishment. Heh, and I still remember the legends from when I was a colt..."

The counselor started drifting off into a dreamy haze of reminiscence, causing Blueblood to roll his eyes.

"And you get paid for this? My father made more sense while licking salt than you do right now. Come on, I have better things to do than watch you drool on yourself."

Shrink shook his head vigorously, trying his best to resist the mental atrophy that almost inevitably came with old age.

"Gah. Again, sorry about that. I know you didn't come to see me wither away like a dehydrated plant. So yes, you're twenty-eight, then?"

Blueblood nodded curtly, clearly not eager about discussing his personal life. Clearing fluid from his throat with a loud cough, the counselor looked at the Prince expectantly.

"Please, continue. I can't be of much help if I don't know anything about you, now can I?"

Letting out an irritated sigh, Blueblood gave in, taking great care to avoid saying anything that was not already common knowledge.

"...Fine. I was born in Manechester during the reign of Hanoverian VIII, my esteemed uncle. He died shortly after my birth, leaving his domains to my father, Rhenish Warmblood. I was thus the heir presumptive from almost the day I was born, finally inheriting the lands of Manechester when my father died six years ago."

Shrink looked at Blueblood with genuine sympathy.

"Your father passed away? Celestia never told me that. I'm... sorry for your loss."

Blueblood bared his teeth, and for a moment the counselor could see a deep-seated fury burning in his eyes before it was hidden once again.

"Spare me your pity, fossil. I have no need of it."

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air for a long time before Shrink asked another question.

"So, who raised you when you were a foal? Was it your father, or somepony else?"

Blueblood shrugged apathetically.

"I hardly see how it matters. I am who I am now, aren't I?"

Shrink opened his mouth to try and push the issue, but he could tell from simple intuition that the Prince would not give him a satisfactory answer. Not this time, at least. Adopting a polite smile, he instead took a different course.

"I see. Well, I know our sessions are supposed to run for longer, but I actually have some business to attend to before the night is young. I assume you don't mind an early release?"

Blueblood didn't even try to hide his grin.

"I think I might be starting to like you, old one."

Shrink chuckled.

"Now now, don't be trying to flatter me here. But do have a fun night, will you?"

Blueblood eagerly stood up.

"Oh, I shall. Today is open night at the Comedy Club, and I have a few crates of rotten tomatoes at my estate. It will be glorious!"

Shrink shook his head in a mixture of amusement and concern as Blueblood dashed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

"Oh sweet Celestia, that stallion is a character, alright."

As if on cue, the Princess of the Sun appeared in his office, accompanied by a bright flash of magic. A playful smile adorned her face as she spoke.

"You called?"

The old counselor didn't even flinch as he wrote a few more notes on his pad. Celestia's smile slowly faded, replaced with a more serious expression, before Shrink replied.

"No, but opportune timing nonetheless. I just sent Blueblood away early. We were talking a bit about his childhood, but it wasn't going anywhere. He didn't say anything that wasn't already in his file, and clammed up pretty quick when I tried to dig any deeper. If he's really as vengeful as they say, though, I doubt we'll have much longer before he does something we'll all regret."

Celestia murmured quietly to herself.

"Indeed. Hopefully, our new assistant will be able to speed things along."

Shrink's ears perked up.

"I take it you were successful, then? Rarity is on board?"

Celestia licked her lips.

"The prospect of revenge didn't appeal to her, but I was able to convince her of the high stakes involved. She's settling in as we speak. In fact, we might be able to start the operation tonight. Did Blueblood say where he was going?"

Shrink nodded excitably.

"He said he was going to the Comedy Club to-"

"-to throw rotten tomatoes on the actors. He's done it before."

Celestia finished his sentence, her eyes heavy with dreary frustration at her nephew's complete lack of maturity. Shrink snorted softly in response, rubbing his forehead with a hoof.

"For some reason that doesn't surprise me. Let's hope Rarity can stop him from engaging in any produce-related antics on this fine evening."

The Princess let out a deep sigh as she adjusted her crown.

"I would advise you not to hold your breath on that, Shrink. At this point, I don't know if even the aid of an Element of Harmony will do us any good..."

The city of Canterlot was one of the wealthiest in Equestria, maybe even the world. As such, most of its buildings were paragons of brilliant architecture, complemented by some of the best engineers, custodians, and police in the kingdom. One of the few notable exceptions was the Canterlot Comedy Club. Despite being a fairly new addition to the ancient city, it had already acquired both the look and reputation of a festering den of squalor.

Normally, a stallion as excellently bred and virtuous as Prince Blueblood would rather jump off the side of Mount Caelestis than set one hoof in such a filthy place. Yet, he found himself drawn to the club anyway, as it offered him a unique opportunity to humiliate ponies in public without any consequences.

Striding into the club like he owned the place, Blueblood paid no heed to the array of lower-class ponies who looked at him with surprise, mistrust, and envy. Following in his hoofsteps were three armored stallions of his personal guard, as well as a beleaguered servant mare who dragged two large produce crates behind her.

The inside of the Comedy Club served as something of a counterpoint to the old saying, 'don't judge a book by its cover'. It was even more fetid and revolting than the exterior would have suggested, with refuse piles and vagrants lining the dimly lit main chamber. A rickety, mold-flecked stage wobbled precariously in the center of it all, surrounded by a haphazard cluster of benches and chairs. Over half were already occupied with rowdy, inebriated peasants, shouting loudly amongst themselves as they waited impatiently for the show to begin.

As he looked over the mass of serfs, Blueblood noticed a familiar stallion who was sitting alone on a nearby bench. Dressed in an impeccable business suit and sporting a well-groomed beard, he was perhaps the only pony in the club who came close to looking as out of place as the Prince did.

Blueblood sat down next to the stallion, a smile growing subtly on his face. The servant mare dutifully set the two crates down at the Prince's side, while his guards took up defensive positions around both of them. The other stallion didn't notice at first, too engrossed in watching a young mare across the room as she argued with the club's manager.

Blueblood tapped him on the shoulder, finally getting his attention. Startled, the stallion turned to look at him with an expression of irritation, which evaporated as soon as he recognized the Prince.

"Prince Blueblood? It has certainly been a Diamond Dog's age since I last saw you. I must say, I never would have expected to find you in a place as... disreputable... as this."

Blueblood chuckled good-naturedly.

"I might say the same about you, you know. What could bring the venerable Boss Tawleed all the way from Manehattan, I wonder? I assume you didn't come just to watch a few bad comedians and ogle the fairer sex."

Tawleed laughed as he stroked his beard.

"Oh, no. That mare over there? She's beautiful, no doubt, but this is about business. That is none other than Helia the Corsair, terror of all ports from Trottingham to Los Pegasus. She made off with some very valuable cargo of mine a while back, and I'm here to, ahem... convince her to return it."

Blueblood nodded, eyeing the distant mare with mild interest.

"I've heard of her. Is it true that she takes no prisoners, and dines on the flesh of her enemies?"

Tawleed shrugged.

"Possibly, but I doubt it. Pirates are rather fond of embellishment, you know."

"Yes, indeed they are..."

A friendly silence developed between the two as Tawleed continued watching Helia and Blueblood hefted one of the rotten tomatoes in his hooves. Heckling comedians with expired produce and running into an old friend? It was going to be a good night, that was for sure.