Just one cookie, that's all you get.
Just one cookie, that's all you get.
It was, without a doubt, a fine day to hold court. Taking a deep breath, Gosling filled his lungs with warm spring air while thinking about how nice it would be to go and play in the fountain. Of course, he would be scolded, but that was just part of the fun. Celestia, after all, had to at least appear to be maintaining a sense of decorum.
Beside him on the balcony, a deep, dark, ruddy red pegasus stood watching the new trainees down below in the courtyard. They were all soft, squishy cookie dough now, but someday, they might be something. Just not today, and probably not tomorrow either. Or next week for that matter. No, these new recruits were green. Some were greener than others and puked up their breakfasts after Sergeant Shamrock had worked them over.
Gosling and Hotspur both had fond memories of Sergeant Shamrock working them over as well.
“You know, Gosling, I’m not entirely sure I understand the point of what you are doing.”
There was a rustle from Gosling’s wings as they fidgeted against his sides. “Hotspur, it is really rather simple. I am trying to restore faith in government. After the events of the fall and the winter, it has been left bruised.”
“That’s an understatement,” Hotspur replied. The muscles in his jaw clenched for a short time as he studied his friend and he shook his head. “This feels more like putting on a show for the public. Ponies are ridiculing you and shaming you in the paper, saying that you are wasting the resources and time of the Crown. It is very upsetting for me to read this stuff.”
Sighing, Gosling nodded. “I am aware of what is being printed. I am all too aware that my ideas are considered radical and dangerous. I understand that many want me to resign as Lord Mayor. I am aware of all of these things.” Extending a wing, Gosling gestured out at the city of Canterlot. “The problem Hotspur, as I see it, is that the adults have all become too jaded. They believe that things will not change and most of them will do nothing to help these changes happen. They are bitter and set in their ways. Which is why I am reaching out to the little ones… the foals. If I can convince them from an early age that the Crown has a vested interest in helping them, they will grow up believing that change is possible and that their requests will be considered with the seriousness that they are due.”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way.” Turning his head, Hotspur watched as Gosling folded his wing back against his sides. “So, you’ve given up on the current generation?”
“No.” Gosling shuffled about. “I will do all I can to aid them as well, but I will confess that I am more focused on the next generation. Celestia can deal better with the current generation than I can. I don’t have the patience to deal with some of the more, how shall I say, trying types.”
“So, by helping foals now with trivial issues, you are hoping that when they grow up, they will continue to come to you with bigger, more important issues.” Hotspur’s eyes narrowed and his brows formed a protruding V. Deep wrinkles formed over his brow and his ears angled over his eyes.
“That is my hope,” Gosling replied.
“I hope this works.” Hotspur shuffled around on his hooves a bit and he leaned over closer to his friend. “I’m being sincere when I say that. You’re gonna have to wait a long, long time before you see any kind of payout and if this doesn’t work, all this time invested will be lost.”
“I know.” There was a gulp as Gosling swallowed. “It keeps me up at night. I am staking my reputation on a long term plan that I have no way of knowing if it will work. Both Luna and Celestia seem to think it is a good idea though, but they’re not like us. You and I. The rest of us short lived little ponies.”
Reaching out a wing, Hotspur patted Gosling on the neck, then left his wing draped around his friend in a sort of half hug. “I do not envy you your job, friend. Everypony is just waiting for you screw up so they can rake you over the coals and say what a terrible job you are doing. I don’t see how you deal with it.”
“I just sort of manage somehow.” Gosling let out a nervous sigh and then used his right rear hoof to scratch his left rear leg. “Ready to go to work? Think you can protect me from cranky little foals that might throw a temper tantrum?”
“The screamers and the spitters yes, but if there is a biter, you’re on your own. I ain’t going through that again. I can’t abide the little nippers.” Hotspur pulled his wing away and folded it against his side. “Come on, you have a country to run and a reputation to carve out for yourself.”
The Cookie Court was a foal friendly room done up in bright, inviting colours and filled with foal friendly furniture. There was no throne of any sort, but there was a big pile of pillows, a low foal-sized table, and a garish looking sofa in the corner where parents could go and sit. Gosling surveyed his court with pride and thought about the namesake—Celestia and Luna had tried to get him to choose between cake or pie, but he brought up his own option, a cookie.
Glancing at the guards by the door, Gosling wished that they weren’t there. Guards were scary and intimidating to the little ones, and he wanted this place approachable. He understood why they were needed though. At least Hotspur wasn’t required to wear armor. Hotspur, even as ill tempered and cranky as he might be, was approachable and he liked foals.
“Open,” Raven commanded.
Obedient, Gosling let his mouth fall open and Raven squirted some foul tasting spray onto his tongue. After a few spritzes, Gosling was certain that he would gag. It made his voice sound terrific and kept him from having a sore throat from too much speaking, but he wished that it tasted just a little better. He held still as Raven placed his circlet, his symbol of office and authority, down upon his head. The circlet, though delicate and light looking, had a heaviness that strained the neck. Gosling was an entirely different pony when he wore it.
“The mother’s name is Mrs. Cartwright. Her daughter, your petitioner, is a soft spoken little filly named Flapjack. She strikes me as being bright, but not well educated. Pay attention and if she struggles, help her.”
“Right, Raven, I got it. Stop fussing over me and go help Celestia.” Already, Gosling’s voice sounded fantastic and the throat spray was working.
“Good luck, Gosling… I believe in what you are doing.”
“Thanks, Raven… I’m glad that somepony does.”
Mrs. Cartwright was a dun coloured mare, unremarkable, and her daughter, Flapjack, was almost an identical match. Gosling watched as they entered and smiled at the little filly peering out from behind her mother’s front legs. The mother stopped and then with a bit of a rough shove from her mother, an affectionate gesture that Gosling had seen many, many times among earth ponies, Flapjack continued forwards on her own.
The poor little thing looked overwhelmed already. Gosing ducked his head to make himself a bit more approachable, remembering everything that Celestia had taught him. He kept his ears angled back to maintain his passive appearance and was mindful of their placement. He watched as Flapjack made a little bow with her head, and he returned the gesture with a little dip of his own.
“Hi, Prince Gosling,” Flapjack said in a somewhat nasal voice caused by what might be hay fever.
“Hello Flapjack and welcome to the Cookie Court. Are you familiar with the rules here?” Gosling kept his voice gentle and soft. Little foals spooked for the silliest of reasons and this one looked shy. She was trembling and appeared to be quite terrified. Using his wing, Gosling scooped up a pillow from the pile and then placed it down in front of her so she could sit down upon it.
“I was told the rules,” Flapjack replied, “but I’m scared and I don’t remember much.”
“You’re an honest little earth pony, aren’t you?” Gosling watched as the filly climbed up onto the cushion and got herself situated. He flopped down onto his stomach, folded up his legs, and held his head at almost her eye level.
“I try to be.” Flapjack blinked her bright rose coloured eyes a few times.
“The rules here are very simple,” Gosling began in a voice as soft as a cloud. “This is a court where real issues are dealt with. If you come to me and tell me about how your parents put you to bed too early, then I will stand you in the corner and the next foal that comes to the court gets to see that I mean business.” Pausing for a moment, he allowed his words to sink in. “But, if you bring me an issue, a real important issue, then you get a cookie and my promise that I will do everything within my power to help you. So tell me, Flapjack, what brings you here?”
Sitting on her haunches, Flapjack stared at Gosling wide-eyed and raised her right front hoof. She rubbed her left front leg with her fetlock and her ears stood up. “Before I tell you that, Mama said I need to tell you thank you for buying our train tickets so we could come here today.”
“Oh, you are most welcome,” Gosling replied. “If ponies can’t reach me to petition my court, then what good is it? Why should only Canterlot ponies or ponies with a lot of bits get to have a say in my court?”
Blinking, the little filly considered Gosling’s words. Her ears drooped and her mouth hung open for a time. Then as her mouth closed, her ears stood up and pivoted forwards. A single crinkled crease appeared upon her tiny, delicate muzzle, and she kept rubbing one leg with the other.
“You’re not what I expected.” Flapjack squinted at Gosling as she reached up and scratched her head. Twisting her head around, she looked back at her mother, then returned her attention to Gosling. “I come from a place called Windmill Junction. We’re a tiny little… uh… um…”
“Hamlet,” Mrs. Cartwright whispered.
“We’re a hamlet, that’s it.” Flapjack looked up at Gosling as she continued with her practiced speech. “We’re a little hamlet in the Vanhoover Territory. Every single one of us are earth ponies and we farm. We grow a lot of grapes and tomatoes and rye. There was more stuff I’m s’posed to say, but I can’t remember it. Our school is awful.”
Raising an eyebrow, Gosling waited to pass judgment. For many foals, school was awful, but he suspected that this wasn’t about not wanting to go to school. The little filly squirmed a bit on her cushion and he waited for her to finish what she had to say.
“All of our schoolbooks are falling apart, what few we have. We have to share schoolbooks because there are not enough to go around, and this makes homework hard. Our history books, we have two of them, are awful. They don’t even mention that Luna has returned. The last big event in our history books is over two hundred years ago, when Princess Celestia made the Vanhoover Purchase.”
“And do you know what the Vanhoover Purchase is, Flapjack?” Gosling asked.
The filly gulped and then hugged herself. “Sort of,” she squeaked. “The logger barons had a whole bunch of ponies that owed them money. These ponies had debts. Big debts. And they had to work for the logger barons to pay these debts. They lived in houses made by the logger barons and bought food from the logger barons, but their debts kept going up rather than down.”
Gosling, who knew all of this, listened and waited for the filly to finish.
“Princess Celestia came to Vanhoover, paid for the debts, bought the city of Vanhoover from the logger barons, and then very nicely asked the logger barons to leave Equestria. They did. And this is why Vanhoover celebrates emanci—emanci—uh… Mom?”
“Emancipation Day,” Mrs. Cartwright whispered.
“Emancipation Day.” Flapjack stared into Gosling’s eyes with a look of intense concentration upon her face. “Our history books are bad and we can’t learn anything. Our school is awful and we only have a primary school. That’s it. Our hamlet asked the uh, um, the ex… the ex—”
“The exchequer agent,” Mrs. Cartwright whispered to her daughter.
“The exchequer agent for our territory.” Flapjack licked her lips, reached up, and brushed her mane out of her eyes. “We, uh, we asked him for some funding, but he told us no. He said we’re just earth ponies and we farm. He said giving us money would be like pouring bits down a sump-hole. Everypony got real mad when he said it.”
“Excuse me for one second, Flapjack.” Lifting his head, Gosling looked over at Hotspur. “Hey, hey Hotspur… this exchequer agent… he sounds like a real class act.”
Still as a statue, Hotspur did not respond.
“Hotspur, I want this clown brought to me at once.”
“Sire, is he under arrest?” Hotspur asked.
“No,” Gosling replied.
“Then for what reason is he to be brought in?” Hotspur raised an eyebrow and waited.
Annoyed, Gosling pushed himself up into a sitting position with his front legs. “The reason is that, I, Prince Gosling, would like to have a face to face chat with him. Think of it as an invitation that he can’t refuse. I want this clown brought here, like yesterday.”
“So he is to be brought in by order of the Prince’s will so that the Prince might have a word with him. An invitation that cannot be refused.” Hotspur nodded at the guards near the door and one of them stepped out for a second, then returned a moment later. “Very good, Sire.”
“I’m sorry, my sweet little Flapjack.” Gosling’s tone was apologetic and he could feel Mrs. Cartwright’s eyes just burning into him. He ignored her and focused on Flapjack. “I am really very happy that you brought this issue to my attention. This is why I created the Cookie Court… so that I could help little foals just like you.”
“You’re going to help me?” Flapjack asked.
“I’m going to do everything within my power to make this better somehow.” Gosling cleared his throat, laid back down, and folded one front leg over the other. “You have a right to go to school, you have a right to have a good education, and you have a right to be listened to and respected.”
“The exchequer guy didn’t think that way.” A very sour expression crept over Flapjack’s face. “I’m not even sure why everypony is so angry, but he was rude. Can you stand him in the corner?”
Taking a deep breath, Gosling held back his angry response. He took a moment to reign in his anger before he replied, “Oh, I am going to do a lot more than stand him in the corner. You’ll be getting a new exchequer agent… and if this one doesn’t pan out, all you need to do is come and tell me.”
“You’ll pay for another train ticket?” Flapjack looked hopeful and there was something that was almost a smile upon her lips now.
“I’ll pay for another train ticket.” Lifting his left front hoof, he reached out and booped Flapjack on the nose, which caused her to go cross-eyed at his touch. “Besides, it’ll be nice to see you again. Brave little fillies like you are why I’m doing this. Thank you, Flapjack, for coming all the way to Canterlot to bring this to my attention. You’ve done your little hamlet a service. I’m going to see that you get a new schoolhouse, some books, and an education overhaul.”
“Thank you, Prince Gosling.” Lips parting, Flapjack beamed and her eyes twinkled with happiness. “Do I get a cookie?”
“Yes, you will get a cookie. In fact, because you brought such an important issue to me, I think you’ll get a dozen cookies, but there is a little bit more work for you to do.”
“There is?” Flapjack’s ears pinned back against her head.
“When we get done here, I want you tell my very best friend your story. His name is Seville and he’s a reporter. He’ll want to take your picture, but he’ll need your mother’s permission. Don’t worry, if your mom says no, you’ll still get your cookies.” Gosling lowered his head down right to eye level with Flapjack. “You are a very brave little filly. Again, thank you.”
Blushing, Flapjack squirmed and let out a giggle. “Thank you.”
“You go on and you get your cookies. You’ve earned them.” Gosling glanced over at Mrs. Cartwright and gave her a nod, which he saw that she returned. “As for me, I have a full day ahead of me. How long were the lines out there?”
“All the way down the hall and around the corner,” Flapjack replied.
“Oh my goodness.” Gosling’s feathers ruffled. “Sounds like I have my work cut out for me.”
“Thanks again!” Flapjack bounced up off of her cushion and then pronked over to where her mother was. “You were right Mama, he’s handsome.”
There was a nervous giggle from Mrs. Cartwright and she avoided Gosling’s gaze.
Rising up to his hooves, Gosling stood up, stretched his legs, and then said to the ponies standing by the door, “Guards, please, make sure our esteemed guests are looked after and send in the next petitioner, thank you…”
Author's Note
I really hope that you enjoyed this short story set in the Weedverse.
Thank you for giving me a chance to entertain you. As always, discussion is both encouraged and appreciated. Tell me what you think! Again, thank you.
