Shadows of Canterlot

Chapter 2

A few hours later, Fleur, Petunia, North Star, Fancy and Blueblood were gathered in the atrium, and all were quite ready, thank you very much. There was one thing missing; well, two, rather. Night Light and Twilight Velvet.

Fortunately, the five of them would not have to wait long. Soon enough, the sound of rapping on the door made it to their ears, followed by a muffled call of, “Open up! It’s us, Fleur!” With a smile of delight, Fleur signalled to one of her servants, and the door was practically flung open as Fleur and Fancy found themselves with their forelegs full of a certain pair of ponies. “Fleur!”

“Fancy!”

“Are you two ready for tonight?” the two responded practically in unison, despite their muzzles being almost buried in the shoulders of the ones they’d hugged. Fleur and Fancy nodded, and the two... affectionate nobles pulled away, smoothing out their outfits quickly. They were a very spirited pair; probably what made them such a good fit for each other, their backgrounds aside. Twilight Velvet was of an old patrician family, the House of Vesperae, in contrast to the relatively nouveau-riche Sparkles. Still, the two made quite a pair. Night Light’s meeker, more controlled scholarly demeanor matched well with Twilight’s exuberance, usually bringing out in her a measure of sobriety she usually lacked; likewise, as tonight, her exuberance encouraged him to be more open and carefree as well.

“Yes, we are,” Fancy nodded, giving Night Light an affectionate peck on the cheek while Fleur did the same with Twilight.

“Shall we go then? I’d like to get there before sundown,” uttered Blueblood, immaculate in his usual black waistcoat and deep blue bow tie. Fleur resisted the urge to smack him, her face remaining curved in a smile.

“I think we shall. Onward then, my friends!”

With that, the seven of them made their way outside, the door swinging shut behind them.

It was looking to be a fun night in the villa of Purple Stripe, esteemed, if often-absent, member of the Senate. Beautiful mares in bright, flowing swathes of translucent material danced about everywhere, taking a spare moment or two to flirt with the guests. Nobleponies and citizens of various stations mingled, laughed and chatted amongst themselves, all whilst drinking heavily from their glasses. A haze of sweet incense mingled with shisha and hemp smoke hung over the entire inside of the house, drifting out the opened windows. The music of violins, flutes, drums and an oud could be heard floating through the air, a small group of musicians clustered by the atrium pool. All in all, it was looking to be a great party.

Life is good, Purple Stripe thought as he observed the proceedings from his couch on the far end of the dining room, very glad for everything to be going smoothly. The chairs had been moved out of his sumptuous dining room, as per usual for an informal occasion. Comfortable couches were placed along the length of the long table, upon which his guests reclined as they ate.

And ate they did. He had spared no expense to provide food, hiring more cooks than usual to prepare enough food for over a hundred guests. Fresh fruit, tarts, pies, custards, soups, stews, salads, sandwiches; all were piled high upon the table, as servants armed with trays of cups and jugs of wine moved from pony to pony, making sure no one was thirsty. Purple Stripe signaled to one of his servants, who quickly refilled his own with wine. He took a deep gulp from his gem-encrusted goblet, and leaned his head back onto the couch with a sigh of contentment, slipping off his red robe and handing to a servant to leave himself in his dress shirt and waistcoat. It may be an informal occasion, but damned if I'm going to be less well-dressed than my guests. I'm the host, for Celestia's sake!

The other guests were attired with varying degrees of formality. Most had come in a simple dress or waistcoat, others wore dress shirts or more formal gowns, and at least one had arrived in a burgundy coat, waistcoat, and day cravat (Hoity Toity, of course; the designer never turned down a chance to show off his own designs.). Some wore nothing, but since this was normal for most ponies, he let it slide. After all, it was supposed to be somewhat informal.

The guests certainly seem to be enjoying themselves, anyway, he thought with a happy smile. They were certainly chatty, anyway, as wine had a proclivity to loosening tongues, even in the most awkward of company. Senators and Tribunes alike (even those who’d been brawling earlier) swapped stories over their cups of wine (and various other beverages), laughing uproariously over jokes that would be entirely inappropriate if the setting were more formal. Minor magistrates, celebrities, city councilors, and even important clergy involved themselves as well, some flirting with the dancing mares, some flirting with each other, and some going off and finding a private spot to get... busier, he presumed. Purple grinned as he spotted a lovely yellow-coated priestess of Sapientia chatting away with one of the dancers, their conversation audible from across the table.

"So... priestesses don't have to be celibate, do they?" the light-pink earth pony mare asked.

"Oh, no, no, no!" the priestess giggled, brushing her light blue mane out of her eyes. "That's the Caminal Virgins, and only during their tenure. Other than that, no celibacy necessary for them; and not at all for the rest of us. Why do you ask?" She batted her eyelashes slightly at the other mare, causing her to blush slightly, and not from the wine this time.

"N-no reason. Well... back in Bitalia, my parents' home, all the priests have to be celibate." The mare said, a trace of a Tuscaneighse accent coming through in her voice.

"Bitalia... oh, right, the.. Romane faith?"

"Correct, Signora. La Chiesa."

"And you? I don't suppose the, uh, Chiesa is incredibly fond of your chosen profession."

"I... kind of still am, though I've... how do you say? Fallen off the vagone?"

The priestess chuckled loudly, almost upsetting her wine as she turned onto her side on the couch. "I can see that. Don't worry, fallen off the wagon or not, I'm sure your Gods- sorry, God- is still fond of you. He'd have to, to create such a lovely flower as yourself." She smiled, and brushed a hoof along the other mare's cheek.

The mare's pink muzzle turned bright scarlet, and she stuttered out, "O-oh, grazie for the.. compliment, but, really, I-I'm not that pretty, S-signora..."

"Oh, don't sell yourself short, dear. And there's no need to call me Signora! I’m no Lady, after all. Call me Poppy Fields, or Poppy for short."

"Lucia. Lucia diSpezia..."

With a smirk, Purple Stripe turned away from their conversation and back to his own thoughts. Like Lucia, he was of (though distant) Bitalian descent, as was obvious in his house's interior design. The frescos and mosaics that decorated the walls and floors of the house were of Bitalian artistry, as were the heavy, luxurious velvet curtains in front of his windows. However, unlike Lucia, his family had adopted the Equestrian Faith long ago instead of the Romane Chiesa, worshipping the distant Harmony and her many divine viceroys, the Athanatoi, in charge of various spheres of life: Sapientia, Lady of Wisdom; Bellona, Lady of War; Gaia, Lady of the Earth; Concordia, Lady of Peace; Mercurius, Lord of Trade; Bacchus, Lord of Merriment, and many others.

Speaking of the Athanatoi, I do believe another guest of mine may be distraught if I'm not there to greet him. With that, Purple Stripe rose from his couch and headed towards the atrium of the house. It was large, but he had made the most of the space; the usual pool of water was sunken into the tiled floor at the center of the room, just beneath a mosaic of seaponies on the ceiling. At the far end of the atrium was the doors to the house, and opposite them, the home shrine to the Athanatoi and the Lares, his ancestral spirits, against the wall. The cabinet that held their images was wide open; only some of the statues were in their proper places, however, as the statue to Bacchus stood on a pedestal by the door, (since any party was automatically under his patronage) on whose head was draped a small wreath of pink flowers. Purple smiled, then touched his hoof to his lips and extended it towards the statue, the proper salute to the Athanatoi, just as a loud knock sounded on the door.

With a smile, he rushed to the door and opened it with his magic, letting it swing open. "Welcome, welcome friends! So glad you could join us!"

Seven ponies stepped through the open doorway, all dressed as well as possible for the occasion.. "Lord Purple. A pleasure, as always." Fancy Pants said with a smile, giving a curt, formal bow in greeting.

"And you, Your Grace." He looked towards the other members of the group, giving them a low nod in turn. “Lady Fleur, Prince Blueblood, Lord Night Light, Lady Twilight, and Misses Petunia and North Point. A pleasure as always.” He gestured towards the atrium. “Please, come on in.”

The six of them nodded in return, heading inside. “You are too kind, my dear Purple,” said Fleur sweetly, giving the Senator a kiss on the cheek, copied shortly by Fancy and Blueblood.

Purple chuckled. "Don't worry, my dears; it’s looking to be a good party so far. You’ll definitely be pleased!"
“I should hope so,” said Blueblood with a smirk. “After all, your parties are the only ones usually compared to mine!”

“Just remember I was busy hosting the Bacchic rites when you were still in royal diapers, Your Highness.” Purple said with a gleam in his eye.

"Of course." Blueblood said with a toss of his mane, following Fancy and the others out of the atrium, and towards the dining room.

Purple was a reasonably laid-back, jovial unicorn stallion, compared to the usually stuffy Canterlot patricians whose starched shirts were as stiff as their smiles outside the Senate house. A lot of that had to do with his family, probably. New or less-notable aristocrats usually had a lot more direct contact with common ponies than their somewhat isolationist old patrician counterparts, and were thus warmer and more informal by influence. Bellona’s breath, but Bitalian clergy were less uptight than the ‘old family’ aristocrats sometimes.

Which was one of the primary reasons for hosting this party in the first place. The other was to keep his social standing up, of course, but his main reason was simply to help his fellow elite loosen up, for heavens' sakes. He had to admit it; he just loved watching ponies just relax and enjoy themselves. Some might even call him an R-rated version of the Element of Laughter.

And a good thing, too; after all, the tension that had exploded in the Senate earlier showed quite plainly the whole lot needed a good dose of revelry to make them more amicable. And so far, it's been working fabulously, he mused as he headed back towards the dining room himself.

The sight that greeted him upon his return was quite amusing. Night Light, Twilight Velvet and Blueblood laid on their respective couch, conversing heartily with Fancy Pants, Fleur De Lis and Petunia. Meanwhile, the flirty discussion between the priestess, Poppy Fields, and the dancer had one more added to it, with the presence of North Star on the couch next to Poppy.

This was definitely looking to be a very good night for them all.

“...and so, she nearly fell into the atrium pool, all bleary-eyed and disheveled, from... what was it again, dear?”

“I was at an orgy, mother,” said Octavia nonchalantly, taking a long draw from her hookah before blowing a smoke ring in the general direction of the windows.

“An orgy, right.” Said Atia of House Philharmonica, looking slightly envious of her daughter before hiding it with a smile. She turned towards her son, who was almost identical to her daughter, save for the shorter mane and more masculine muzzle. “Octavian, say something witty. You always seem to have something good for the occasion.”

“Hmm?” the grey colt, almost out of his teens, looked up from his book completely lost. “Erm, sorry mother. I was reading about this rather fascinating incident during the First Hooflene War with Minos and the other city states of-”

“Enough of that,” Atia rolled her eyes, looking towards Fancy and Fleur with an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that; he’s always been the bookish type. I bring him to a party, and he finds Purple’s library the most fascinating thing.”

“Well, I’ve always found reading a wonderful hobby, especially when in too crowded an atmosphere, when I was his age,” quipped North Star, exchanging an understanding look with the teenager.

“She’s right, you know,” said Fancy, taking a sip from his cup. “After all, we administrators would be unable to rule without doing plenty of research on the issues we need to tackle. Take the whole granary kerfluffle; pardon me saying it, ma’am, but the fact that the majority of the grain supply should not be several miles from the city, in case of unrest or famine, should be obvious. Nevermind the trouble of having to sell the former granaries themselves; we can lease them to farmers along the river valley, and have our chain of supply even closer to the city so we don’t have to spend so much on transport.”

“But this is Canterlot! Surely the presence of agricultural buildings would put a damper on the tourist industry?” asked Upper Crust, delicately plucking grapes from a large bunch in a bowl before popping them into her mouth.

Fleur scoffed. “I don’t think a few granaries within view of the city limits will discourage tourism unless the millers’ union suddenly decides to go on strike; which I doubt will happen anytime soon.” She nodded towards the leaders of said union further down the table, one of them pounding the table in mirth at a joke Petunia told.

“What a dreadful noise the plebeians make when they’re happy.” muttered Jet Set, his nose upturned as he pointedly ignored the same exuberance expressed by a good number of nobles as well.

“This is music compared to the possibilities. Just you wait until some populist demagogue gets them baying for our blood,” said Golden Gavel darkly, not noticing the way North Star, Fleur and Arpeggio bristled at the comment.

“I think if a few of the more useless members of our class disappeared suddenly, the sky might yet still be above us and the earth still below. A shocking idea, I know,” whispered, of all ponies, Atia, shooting daggers towards Upper Crust and Golden Gavel. She might be a patrician as well, but she was about as fond of the staunch traditionalists as Fancy and Purple were. After all, the bad grapes tended to spoil the whole bushel, in the eyes of the common folk. And made her look bad, by extension. The matriarch of the ancient House of Philharmonica simply couldn’t stand the idea of looking bad.

North Star and Arpeggio nodded fervently in agreement, sharing a look of intense distaste before biting into a pear and an orange, respectively, to conceal their expressions. Fleur just stared over at Golden with a slight frown, anger boiling just beneath the surface.

This was why there was so much tension between the nobility and the plebeians; and oh, how she despised it. The traditionalist patricians all acted like the lower classes were like tame pets, at best; at worst, they were snarling animals in need of control, just waiting to snap at the nearest hoof if angered. Likewise, the common ponies tended to think of the nobility as benevolent, if distant, philanthropists like Fancy or Purple at best; or, at worst, doddering old fools like Golden Gavel that probably wished Equestria had serfdom like other countries. That, at least, was a system that had been immediately abolished once Princess Celestia and Luna ascended all those centuries ago.

Of course, the new gentry and nobles that had been honoured with titles for their services to their country in one capacity or another, like Fleur or the Sparkles, were starting to turn the tide in the favour of the people.

Fleur felt a hoof on her shoulder, and turned her head to see Fancy looking at her with concern. She sighed, closed her eyes, and slowly counted to ten before opening them again, her shoulders relaxing slightly as she surveyed the rest of the partygoers. No fights had sprung up, thankfully; in fact, most of the nobles seemed to getting along well with the other guests. She could hear some of the conversations from down the table quite clearly, catching more than a few snippets.

“Today’s display was actually a good thing, I think; now, if they took that idea and adopted it to the Griffon style of politics, I would certainly attend more often!” said Duke Silversaddle of Appleloosa, obviously rather cheerfully drunk. “They settle their parliamentary disputes in single combat; the losing opponent has to vote the same way as the challenger. My sister’s always telling me to get more involved in politics, and I keep telling her I will when I have the family’s senate seat, and when it gets more interesting!”

“Yes, because it’s not like our family hasn’t been in politics for over 300 years, after all. Silly me, thinking you might continue the legacy and do something beside manage those apple orchards of yours,” his sister, Lady Ambrosia, said with a sneer.

Fleur shoved down the anger rising to the surface again, taking a breath as she buried her head in her hooves. Well, at least the other guests were having fun.

The night might still get better from here, she thought. Now, if I can just enjoy myself without blurting out something in anger later, everything should go smoothly.

She hoped, at least.