After Celestia had finished preparing herself for the day, which included her millennia-old tradition of raising the Sun to signal the start of the day in Equestria, she knew exactly what to do. There was a massive backlog full of legislative bills (some of which were already ratified by Luna), treaties, letters of grievance, and the occasional delegate who may have waited weeks or even months to speak with the Solar Princess on some matter or other. A great deal of it was pushed back into the recesses of her mind, with more pressing matters taking greater priority. She had resolved some moons ago to spend this single day to try to resolve as much of the backlog as was possible.
She had already spoken to Luna about her plans to get some especially important progress done. She wondered if Luna had already began to resolve some of the backlog—or had a backlog herself. Whichever was the case, Luna sounded eager to help Celestia when the latter brought up the issue at the breakfast table.
Her brow furrowed. What if she could call in some extra help with dealing with the backlog—her student and protégé, Princess Twilight Sparkle, would most certainly be an excellent choice, given her skill as an organizer, if her memory of a certain Winter Wrap Up in Ponyville served her correctly. But then, she may be busy with some issues of her own, likely involving her pantheon of friends.
As she opened the door to the hall to begin her Day Court, she was stopped at the door by her aide, Raven, who was flanked on either side by Celestia’s own Royal Guard. None of the lot were permitting Celestia entry into the hall. “What is the meaning of this, Raven?” asked Celestia.
“With all due respect, Princess Celestia,” stated Raven, “I am required to inform you that the Time of Personal Recreation Act has come into force on this date. You shall not be spending this day with your duties other than maintaining the Sun.”
This was a law deep within the Equestrian Code, so deep that many of Equestria’s best lawyers lived in total ignorance of it—this was safe enough for them, for it only applied to only two ponies. It was written and enacted in the early days of Equestria’s founding, long before Nightmare Moon’s banishment. Whole lifetimes can, and have, come and gone since the law had been invoked. It has been all but relegated to an obscure footnote in Equestria’s law books. The law is this:
- For every five hundred (500) years of Service to the Public, it is the responsibility of both Princess Celestia and Princess Luna to relegate Time of Personal Recreation.
1.1. This Time of Personal Recreation shall be at least one (1) day in length, but not more than seven (7) days in length.
1.1.1. A day is defined as one (1) act of raising and one (1) act of setting of the Sun, and one (1) act of raising and one (1) act of setting of the Moon, in this order.
During such Time of Personal Recreation, all Duties exempting those outlined in Section 3.1 hereinafter will be conducted by the Royal Staffs acting in their stead, with the interests of Princess Celestia and Princess Luna kept aware.
Princess Celestia and Princess Luna are prohibited from carrying out any Duties exempting those outlined in Section 3.1 hereinafter during their Time of Personal Recreation.
3.1. The acts of raising the Sun, setting the Sun, raising the Moon, and setting the Moon are exempt from this law, as these are considered Inalienable Duties of Princess Celestia and Princess Luna.
During such Time of Personal Recreation, Princess Celestia and Princess Luna are subject to all laws applying to Unicorns, Pegasi, Earth-Ponies, and other Tribes.
This law shall be suspended during Events of Danger to the Public.
This law shall be considered null and void unless it has been ratified by both Princess Celestia and Princess Luna within three days after its ratification by the Council.
Celestia found that she never really enjoyed it very much—she much preferred to serve the public, which was why she wanted to omit Section 3 of that obscure Time of Personal Recreation Act. But, then again, it could very well be her maternal instinct who wanted to nullify Section 3—as much as she hated to admit it, she felt refreshed after only a single required day. However, guilt set in not long after, as she usually felt that she should have been helping her dear subjects.
Luna, meanwhile, revelled in her Recreation. It only occurred once every five hundred years, so she usually spent the whole seven days trying to catch up with a new society that had sprung up around her without her knowing. Usually she disguised herself, since she did not want anyone to be biased.
Princess Celestia sighed. “Had it been so long?” asked she. “It feels like it was only yesterday when the law was last in force. . . .” She trailed off, searching her own memories.
“Five hundred years,” Raven stated flatly. Her stance remained firm. “You’ve been alive since its enactment; surely you would remember it.”
“Well then, I trust that you will keep Equestria afloat,” Celestia said. “If there is one thing that you must know, it is that I was planning on resolving a rather sizable accumulation of court work. I was wondering if you could sort through that for me.”
“We shall do our best,” replied Raven. “If you need anything from us, we shall still be at your service.” The door then shut, punctuating her pronouncement.
And with that, Princess Celestia left the hall, with her head hung low, and a slight blush of embarrassment. She had planned this day to get rid of a large backlog of duties—but, now it seemed that that now had to wait. Whether she liked it or not—and she most certainly didn’t—she had to take the day off.
What to do, what to do, what to do. . . ? This single, three-word question occupied Celestia’s mind as she left the hall, looping back upon itself repeatedly, as she sought an answer.
Numerous delegates were queued up in front of the hall as Celestia passed by, yet she never addressed any of them. Not a word nor a glance. They started looking towards one another, a low whisper amongst them, as they formulated various hypotheses as to why she will not speak with them. One gryphon near the front of the line, one who looked like he had been waiting for nearly a year for this moment—now apparently had to settle with her Staff. His face was a conflict of emotions—disappointment, confusion, and sadness all faced off against one another on a facial battlefield.
Among the hushed comments heard within the queue, Celestia heard such things as “Has she lost her mind?” “Now who’s gonna help me?” “Of all days, it just had to be this one!” “She had better have a good reason to walk off the job.”. Before she could address their concerns, the hall doors opened once more, with Raven prepared to face the crowd.
“We apologize for the delay,” Raven announced. “Princesses Celestia and Luna shall not be serving in court on this date. I shall act in their steads, and any grievances that you have shall be addressed to me instead. If it is necessary for Princesses Celestia or Luna specifically to hear you, you are welcome to reschedule your appointment, and be placed at the head of the line.”
To Celestia’s relief, only one or two delegates walked off. As hard as it was for her to admit it, it felt nice to her to have an oversized burden lifted off her back. But then she realized that she was still amongst the crowd, so she quickened her pace to outside the castle—to the sizable garden outside.
Cloudsdale had decided to leave Canterlot alone on that date, so there was absolutely no precipitation of any kind. Hardly a single cloud in the sky to cloak her gilded orb from the view of all Equestria. A hot, bright ball of fire, shining down upon the ground—much like the flicker of flames that darted away into the thick of a tree.
Celestia watched it carefully. Then, slowly, carefully, she approached the tree, her eyes alert, taking in the surroundings for whatever may be amiss. To the left—a flat, grassy part, meant for a picnic, if she so desired. To the right—an abundance of rosebushes, all in full bloom, in colors stretching across the spectrum. Just as she approached the trunk of the tree that caught her eye, that fleeting flame darted away again.
Despite her quick glance, she could track it to its next location, but could not identify what it was. This time it had ducked into a tea house. Celestia followed it there, cautiously, though now, judging from an amused smirk and a raised eyebrow, she had an idea as to what—or whom—it could be.
Just as she approached the doorway, her suspicions were confirmed—a fiery phoenix popped out of the tea house just as quickly as it came in, then perched itself upon the roof. “Philomena!” greeted Celestia. “Up to your old tricks again, I see?”
Philomena responded only with a few coos, accompanied by a shake of her head. Then she dropped an advertisement, one that appeared to have been sloppily clipped from a newspaper—probably the Canterlot Chronicle—singed along the edges by her plumage:
SPECIAL OFFER - ONE DAY ONLY
Come and relax here at the Iridescent Lotus Spa! Renown throughout Equestria, we were selected as Best Spa by the Canterlot Chronicle ten years in a row! Our staff will make sure you leave feeling better than when you come in!
1-Hour Steam-and-Rub - ~~was 250 bits~~ NOW ONLY 150 BITS!
It’s simple math - 1 30-minute session in a steam room to warm up your muscles plus 1 30-minute session with one of Equestria’s best masseuses equals 1 relaxed, freshly-rejuvenated customer!
ONLY at the IRIDESCENT LOTUS SPA!
Coupon must be presented at time of purchase. Not valid with any other offer and cannot be used in conjunction with any gift certificates. One use per client. Taxes not included. No cash value. Void if copied.
“Hmm. . . .” Celestia’s eyes narrowed at the advertisement. “Interesting find, Philomena,” she commented. “Is it still valid?”
The phoenix nodded. Then she spread her wings and took off, leaving a trail of sparks and flames in her wake, soaring towards a gate at the far end of the garden, one that lead out to the streets of Canterlot. She then outstretched her right wing, indicating whatever laid beyond the wall.
In all the time that the two spent together, from the time that they met, she knew that this signaled only one thing. Philomena wanted her to do something very specific, albeit simple:
“Follow me!”
With graceful hoofsteps, Celestia approached the gate, taking care not to run through the sharp rosebushes. She opened the gate with her telekinesis, then set down upon the path to the spa. Philomena flew on ahead, to indicate where Celestia was to turn next.
Along the way, Celestia noted the sights and sounds that composed, even defined, Canterlot. A lone carriage careened down the cobblestone-paved lane, turning right at the next intersection. A tea-shop hosted several customers outside. Doves white as the clouds above flew in flocks overhead, startled by a young, curious filly chasing them. Her mother managed to reel her back, though. And Philomena, perched upon a lamppost, had her left wing outstretched, showing her to turn right onto that road—an instruction Celestia heeded and obeyed. Once she turned, Philomena again flew ahead of her.
Here, along this street, an earth pony stallion at a newsstand was shouting out the various periodicals that he carried: “Every single paper, all in one place! You heard it right, folks, they’re all here! Manehattan Times, the Dodge Cherry-O, the Tourmaline, Ponyville Daily, the Sun, the Moon, you name it, we carry it! And our very own Canterlot Chronicle! ‘If it’s true at all, it’s the Chronicle!’ Special edition, just released not two minutes ago! Exclusive coverage: Princess Celestia, walking off the job? Yes, it’s true! It’s—” He stopped when he saw that very same Princess Celestia walking down the street.
“Carry on,” she said.
“Right!” He picked up a copy of the Chronicle, waving it around, and started shouting his wares once more: “Come one come all! Read all about it! . . .” His voice soon faded out into the ambience, as Celestia wandered over to where Philomena landed. This time she had no wing outstretched, indicating that this was the final destination, the Iridescent Lotus Spa.
“You can wait out here, Philomena,” she said. “It’ll only be about an hour.” Philomena’s sole response was to nod, then to maintain a strict vigil. In just a moment, other than her color, one would think that she was part of the building.
Celestia then entered the spa. A small silver bell hanging over the doorway rang when she opened the door. A lone receptionist, trained to respond promptly at that sound, said (what sounded like from rote memorization): “Welcome to the Iridescent—what! Princess Celestia?” Her mouth hung open, almost to the countertop. Her eyes remained fixed open, trying to make sense of the being in front of her. Of all ponies. . . why Celestia? Shouldn’t she be busy with something much more important regarding the fate of Equestria?
“Yes, it is I, Celestia.” Her voice rivaled that of Æolus, in an attempt to soothe the receptionist’s nerves.
But, alas, that did not work: the receptionist was overflown with offers of the best in-house treatments, from ayurveda-based treatments to a thorough hooficure and several others—the lot of them for free.
Celestia, however, simply gave them the newspaper cutout. “Thank you kindly, but I just need this,” she said.
“Very well.” The receptionist started making a few notes in her schedule. “It’s on the house, Your Highness—our gift to you!”
“No, really, that’s not necessary,” Celestia rebutted. “I’ll pay for it myself.”
The receptionist paused briefly, trying to get sense of what she was hearing. Princess Celestia, Goddess of the Sun—as any other customer? “Well, if you insist. . . spa policy states that any sessions must be paid for in full before they begin.” Her voice had grown lighter, and she had stuttered in places.
Celestia calmly counted out one hundred and fifty bits and deposited them upon the countertop. “And there you have it.”
The receptionist looked visibly relieved by Celestia’s reaction and demeanor. “The steam room is down the hall and on the right,” she told her.
“Thank you.” And with that, Celestia disappeared through the doorway.
One colt and his mother, seated in the waiting-room, awaiting their treatments, looked to each other in total confusion.
⁂
Four other ponies, the lot of them unicorns, were also relaxing in the steam room. All of them had towels covering their faces, so that they couldn’t see a thing, but they could still hear. For instance, they heard the door open, feeling the blast of cold air as the temperatures mixed, along with several hoofsteps making their way to one of the benches, then wooden planks creaking as a pony’s weight was applied upon a bench.
“Who was that?” one of them asked.
Celestia looked around. None of them saw her; otherwise, they instantly would’ve recognized her, and would’ve reacted accordingly, something she didn’t want them to do. But then, if they could only use their other senses, perhaps she could exploit this. She silently and quickly cast a spell that modified her voice—she still sounded feminine, but nopony could recognize it as hers. “Just somepony,” she lied.
“I’ll tell you one thing,” one of the other unicorns said. “You heard of Rarity’s new boutique in Manehattan? Heard who was managing it?”
“No, I haven’t,” said a third. “Whom might that be?”
“Remember Suri Polomare’s assistant? What was it? . . .”
The fourth unicorn chimed in: “Pommel! Yes, that’s it! Coco Pommel!”
“Right, right. Well, she’s the one in charge, in Rarity’s stead.”
“How’d she even meet Rarity in the first place?” asked the first unicorn.
“There was that one Fashion Week a few years back, and it turned out that Suri had stolen Rarity’s designs. Crazy, right? Well, somehow the judges found out about that whole thing, and Suri had to suffer a most humiliating debacle. Coco left her right after that.”
“Well, somepony likes to keep up with the gossip.”
“Of course, Fleur-dis-Lee.” The first unicorn must have been Fancy Pants. “It keeps me from getting bored, and besides, it generates some interesting talk.”
“Well, here’s some interesting talk!” said the third.
“Do tell, Jet Set.”
“You all heard about Celestia leaving the Castle? The Chronicle picked that up. Apparently, it’s some ancient law or other, but she’s actually not allowed to hold court today. Her staff’s managing it though.”
“I saw a few delegates walk out on the whole thing,” said Upper Crust. “They’re just upset that they couldn’t see the princess. Which reminds me. . . I wonder what she’s doing.”
“I’m sure it’s a mystery for all of us,” said Fleur-dis-Lee.
With her modified voice spell still in place, Celestia spoke up: “You might be surprised, actually. She wants to hold court today—she really does. It’s a shame, really.”
The four of them nodded. “Uh-huh!” agreed Fancy Pants.
Again the door opened—this time it was one of the spa ponies. “Fancy Pants? Fleur-dis-Lee? Jet Set? Upper Crust?” she asked. “It’s time for your massages.”
“Has it been that long already?” Fancy Pants leapt to his hooves, taking his towel off his face as he headed to the door. The other three followed suit. Just before she left, Fleur-dis-Lee looked behind her to see who that fifth pony was. What a shock she got when she saw that Celestia was basking in the steam.
“Princess?”
Celestia’s spell then failed, no longer needed at this stage. “Yes, I’m Princess Celestia,” she responded. “How are you today?”
“Please, forgive us!” Fleur-dis-Lee threw herself onto the floor in a solemn gesture of respect to the being who brought forth the daylight. “Had we known you were with us, we wouldn’t have been so rude!”
“Do rise, Fleur-dis-Lee. You and your friends were being honest, and that’s much more important to me than respect.”
“Thank you, thank you!” Fleur-dis-Lee then took her leave, to rejoin her friends. Celestia, meanwhile, remained within the steam room for some more time—her massage came later.
⁂
It was evident when Celestia left the Iridescent Lotus Spa that Philomena had not remained perfectly in one place for an hour. Instead of atop the building, she was perched upon a streetlamp, with another newspaper clipping in her beak. When Celestia came close, the phoenix dropped it, and Celestia caught it in her telekinesis. She brought it to her face to see what it was. Another advertisement, also clipped from the Chronicle, this time offering a different service:
Do you, the reader, want what’s great to eat?
Then come and join us at The Tasty Treat!
Exotic flavors plenty, and with food replete,
All this and more, here at The Tasty Treat!
Friends old to find, and new to greet,
Why, everypony's coming to The Tasty Treat!
Find us at 2156 Star-Swirl Street—
That's us—The Tasty Treat!
The advertisement went on, without further rhyming anything, showing the dishes offered, the prices thereof, operating hours, and the like. Celestia had never seen anything like this: most restaurants in Canterlot could arguably be art studios, focusing less upon the actual food and more upon presentation, décor, and the like. The Tasty Treat, meanwhile, was unique in its appearance and service—so much so, it had never been reviewed by the Chronicle.
Well! —It couldn’t hurt to try, now would it?
The address specified was not far off from the Iridescent Lotus, and Celestia knew the way. Philomena, therefore, flew off, back to the castle.
Celestia took a look around the sights of Canterlot. The newsstand was still busy, but nobody was buying, not even the Chronicle, which contained the controversial article about her. The street ahead of her was calming down, as the various high-class ponies were all in the cookie-cutter fancy restaurants, with very little variation betwixt the lot—minimalist design, flat gray coloring, and from what she heard, incredibly bland food. Up and down the street, in the culinary part of the city, this was the same story.
And then there it was. The Tasty Treat. A true standout compared to the rest, there were decorations reminiscent of far-off Saddle-Arabia—elephants featured prominently amid the décor. Looking inside, Celestia could see that it was a packed house. She might have to wait for a free table.
That, however, did not take long; one satisfied customer walked out of the building. He saw a large shadow of a pony cast upon the ground; turning his head to its source, he saw Celestia herself, briefly startling him. He gave a short bow, then trotted off.
Celestia entered the restaurant. Her nose was then hit by the heady scents of Saddle-Arabian cooking, all of them beckoning her to find a seat and be served.
A large male unicorn, apparently the maître d’hôtel, approached her. “Princess Celestia!” he exclaimed, speaking with a prominent accent. “It is a great honor to have you eat here! Please, be seated, and make yourself comfortable!” He pronounced the last word giving equal weight to its syllables.
“Why thank you,” she said. A seat was found immediately, and Princess Celestia soon found herself reading from the restaurant’s menu. There were many other dishes that the advertisement failed to mention, but she already made her choice on what to order. “I’ll have the shahi paneer with naan bread.”
“A wise choice!” The unicorn snapped up the menu in his telekinesis. “We will have it ready in the blink of an eye!” He soon disappeared into the kitchen, to relay the order to whomever was cooking.
Celestia took a look around the restaurant. She was reminded of the adage, “You can take the frog out of the pond, but you can’t take the pond out of the frog.” All around her, there were small things from Saddle-Arabia—from the lamp-shades to the pictures hanging up on the walls, from the curtains overshadowing the windows to the general architecture of the building itself, and of course the cuisine, Celestia felt that she had stepped through a portal into Saddle-Arabia.
They truly have taken their nation with them.
True to the maître d’hôtel’s word, much sooner than Celestia had anticipated, the piping-hot shahi paneer had been finished, and brought out to her table with some naan bread.
Celestia bit into the naan bread first. It only served to fortify the surroundings of the restaurant, which already was another world by itself. Although she was tempted simply to wolf down the bread, she managed to tear herself away to try some of the shahi paneer. A powerful blend of spices of a land so far-off wrestled with her tongue, quickly subduing it with godlike flavor. Celestia then dipped a corner of naan bread into the sauce, and tried some of it like so. Her tongue stood no chance—it quickly succumbed to the apotheosis of spicy cooking.
The entirety of the dish disappeared in less than five minutes—the only reason that it didn’t take less time was because Celestia wanted to savor every bite. She then asked the maître-d’hôtel for the check. “For you, Your Highness? This is on the house!”
“No, really, I insist,” she retorted.
“Well, what can I say? I bring check to you.” The total came out to be eight bits. By their standards, it was a simple meal, quite easy to craft. Celestia was more than happy to pay for it herself. “Thank you, Your Highness!” he said. “Come again!”
Celestia looked around for her phoenix. This time, however, she apparently had forsaken Celestia altogether. She looked left. Restaurant Row was picking back up in regards to street activity. She looked right. Much the same story—a couple was boarding a carriage, destinated to parts unknown.
“Coo! Coo!” Celestia looked up, to see the fiery shimmer of Philomena descending upon her. This time, it was carrying something in its claw. It was a small papercraft boat, folded from clean paper instead of newsprint, adorned on the top with a small indigo flag with a moon logo on it.
Celestia knew precisely what Philomena was suggesting, so she started to make her way to a nearby park, with the phoenix perched upon her back.
“All hooves below deck! Hard a-port! Incoming!” cried a ship’s captain, looking out from the bridge to see a massive projectile heading in fast towards his ship. “Celestia save us. . . .”
Alas, the order was not carried out fast enough; the projectile slammed into—nay, through the deck of the ship. It burst into flames on contact. It took less than a minute for it to burn to the waterline, what with the hull being built from such flammable material. Many valuable sailors were tragically lost that day. It was a disaster that nopony would forget.
“Coo. . . .”
What looked like harrowing sea warfare, with heavy losses on both sides, was in fact a game of “battleship”. Philomena, who sat on the other pond bank, was Celestia’s opponent in this naval war.
Celestia had a fleet of fifteen small papercraft ships of varying types at her command; Philomena had the same. The only difference between was that Celestia’s ships were adorned with a small white flag with a yellow and orange Sun logo on it, whereas Philomena’s were adorned with a small indigo flag, with a white moon logo on it—exactly like the one she showed Celestia just outside The Tasty Treat. The pond itself was divided into a 32 × 32 grid, with each ship occupying two coördinates. Both of them also had spare pieces of paper to make more ships, since salvaging was impossible.
Philomena had just made her move, sinking one of Celestia’s ship with one of her feathers. Celestia had three destroyers on the east end of the pond, facing two of Philomena’s frigates, but Philomena’s fleet was coming close to Celestia’s fleet. Fortunately for Celestia, Philomena could only make one move per turn. Attempting to sink an enemy ship within range, whether or not it was successful, trying to move a ship (only one at a time, and within a certain distance), or creating a new ship—these constituted moves. But, unfortunately for Celestia, she could only make one move per turn.
Celestia had fourteen ships left, thanks to Philomena. After a bit of thought, Celestia moved a battleship up two spaces, theoretically bringing it within range of Philomena’s fleet should she continue in her intended direction.
Now it was Philomena’s turn. She considered her possible options, before she moved one ship to the southwest, approaching Celestia’s fleet still, but avoiding the new danger.
Which presented Celestia with a great opportunity. Philomena moved the wrong ship to be out of danger. So Celestia fired upon one of the others, using an apple plucked with her telekinesis from the tree under which she was sitting. The apple didn’t pierce the ship, nor did it set it on fire—rather, it crushed the ship, plunging it wholly below the water line. A move well spent.
Philomena’s rebuttal was simply to fire upon one of the ships on the southern shore. She managed to score a hit, forcing Celestia in her next turn to move one of hers out of the way, but still within firing range of Philomena’s fleet. Philomena saw that coming, though, and proceeded to sink another one of Celestia’s ships. Celestia “built” (i.e. folded) another ship to replace it, deploying it near the northern shore.
Just before she made her next decision, Philomena suddenly noticed something approaching them from the rosebushes. Celestia looked up as well, noticing Philomena’s gaze.
A young colt had wandered into the park. He was accompanied by none; no parent, no guardian, nopony. He must have been an orphan. He slowly approached the princess, with an apprehensive look on his face, ready to run at the last second should he need to. “Are you lost, little one?” asked Celestia.
“No,” he replied—a staccato voice that contrasted against Celestia’s flowing speech. “I just saw you in the park and wondered what you were doing. The papers said you wouldn’t be working today, yes?”
“That’s quite right,” she replied. “I’m sure what the Chronicle said was correct.”
“Well, why did you pass a law like that anyway? If you wanted to keep working all the time, why didn’t you. . . veh. . . vie. . . .”
“Veto it?” The colt nodded. “Well, once upon a time, Princess Luna was almost overwhelmed with work. She wanted, nay, I daresay needed a break at some point. But the ponies of Equestria at the time were dependent on both of us, to raise and lower the Sun and Moon. And to be honest, when I first saw that bill, I needed one as well.”
Celestia’s brow furrowed. “But over time, I grew used to the workload, even as it increased over the years. Eventually I saw myself as not just a ruler of Equestria, but as a mother as well. Maternal instinct took over all motivations; I actually enjoyed the work.
“But Princess Luna? Now, she took that law and exploited it to the fullest. I’m certain that she would’ve vetoed it in favor of extending it to a month—or even a year—or even making me raise the Sun and Moon so she wouldn’t have to do that. Well, in a way, she got the last of these.”
“Can’t you veto it now?” asked the colt.
“No, only the Council can do that.”
“And why don’t they?”
Celestia sighed. This was a curious fellow. “I’d rather not get into it, but it’s enough to say that they make it very difficult for anypony, even me and Princess Luna.”
“Oh.” The colt looked down to the ground.
Celestia brought her wing around and pulled him close. “No need to be sad, little one,” she said. “It’ll be fine.”
“Say, pardon me for asking,” he said, though he had asked five questions before, “but what are you doing right now?”
“This?” Celestia pointed to the pond. Philomena still had not made a move. The colt nodded. “This is a sort of game that I used to play with Luna when we were very young, maybe when I was your age. It looks simple, but trust me, it’s not.” She pointed to the various ships. “They may look alike, but they all have different strengths and weaknesses, and it’s left to you to find a way around them, while at the same time exploit those of your opponent.”
“Oh!” he said. “May I join you?”
“You may,” she replied. “Philomena, have you moved yet?”
The phoenix shook her head. She then proceeded to move one of her ships out of the way of Celestia’s newly-built ship. Celestia saw that Philomena had forgotten that this move brought it within firing range of one of her ships, and took advantage of the situation. When Philomena started to move her fleet northward to deal with the newfound threat, Celestia let the colt make a move on her behalf. He chose to sink the other ship on the east side of the pond.
“How come?” asked Celestia.
“I much prefer to deal with small problems as they come along,” he responded, “rather than consolidate them into larger issues that I can’t manage. It’s like rolling a snowball: the more you roll it, the bigger it gets.”
Celestia was struck by this statement. Perhaps, she reasoned, I can apply this to my own work—deal with each bill as they come along, rather than having a backlog at all. I already have ponies queued up for audiences with me—can bills be treated much the same way?
“That is a very wise statement,” she said. “Where did you learn that?”
“Out on the streets” was his response. “You gotta be the one who acts first in a fight.”
⁂
Invariably the end of the day had come. Celestia cleaned out the pond, removing stray feathers, apples, and scraps of pulped paper, depositing the lot into a nearby garbage can. “Do you have someplace to stay for the night, little one?” she asked.
“Yeah, sure,” he readily replied. “Have a good night, Your Highness.”
“The same to you, my little pony.” And with that, the colt scurried off out of the park, like a rat fleeing from approaching hoofsteps. Philomena and Celestia, on the other hand, went back to the castle.
Court had ended today, so all that was left was for Celestia to lower the Sun to begin the night. Before she did so, she checked with Raven on the backlog. She hoped that it wasn’t too big a burden for her staff.
Rounding the corner towards the doors to the hall, she saw Raven just leaving Court. “Raven, can you report on the status of my backlog?” asked Celestia.
“With all due respect Celestia,” she stated, “I suggest that you might not make such a large backlog in the future. Yes, we were able to sort it all out today. All of it. We vetoed about 43% of bills that we were certain that you would have vetoed anyway. The rest is taken care of; you and Luna need only ratify them all in one go. I don’t imagine that it should take more than a few hours.”
“And you know something, Raven?” Celestia said. “I might’ve learned my lesson on that just this afternoon.”
“Huh?”
Celestia giggled. “Never mind. Carry on.”
Raven nodded stiffly. Then she made her way down the hall, for her own personal business. Celestia checked a nearby clock. 6:25 PM. Right on schedule.
Celestia exited the castle onto a balcony overlooking the streets of Canterlot. She could see almost everything there—the Iridescent Lotus Spa, the newsstand, The Tasty Treat, Restaurant Row, the park, and she thought she spotted a familiar little colt wandering through the streets.
For you, child, she thought, as though he were capable of telepathy. This Sun shall be lowered in your honor. You may have not realized that you made a difference, but you had.
Her horn lit up—a gilded glow, matching the Sun, and once she found herself suspended in the air, without using her wings, she knew that she had a telekinetic lock onto the Sun.
Luna stood on another balcony, with her horn also lit, about to raise the moon.
Celestia went first—she soared high up into the sky, and once she was as high as she got, down she came, gently, slowly, as she took the Sun with her.
Luna also rose up—carrying the Moon, she placed it there where the Sun was not one minute ago. This signalled the end of the Day.
When Celestia’s hooves hit the ground again, she felt exhausted. This was the only thing that she was legally obligated to do today, and she managed to do it.
“Well done once again, sister,” Luna said. “Pardon mine inquiry, but why hast thou forsaken court duty on this day?”
“Remember when we ratified that Time of Personal Recreation Act so long ago?”
Luna’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. “At last. . . .”
“Come, Luna—let us get our sleep for the night.” Celestia draped her left wing over her sister’s body, and led her back inside the castle.
