God Save the King

The castle was a truly impressive sight; a huge structure, with stone spires stretching up into the sky. Its walls were high and wide, surrounding the large keep in the center, with battlements and towers stretching along its length, built to be an impenetrable barrier against any foe on the ground. The keep itself was on an artificial island, surrounded by a moat in addition to the outer walls, and it was a very tall structure, with many tall spires protruding into the sky, somewhat similar to the Crystal Palace in design (with the obvious difference of the keep being built out of stone). To protect against an invading army of griffins or pegasi, a magic shield was placed over the castle, preventing invaders from simply flying over the walls. There were two gatehouses on the outer walls; one large gatehouse serving as the main entrance, and a smaller gatehouse in the back to serve as a secondary entrance. Two drawbridges were used to provide access to the keep in the center.

"Magnificent, isn't it? This castle has served as the royal residence of the Kings of Great Griffin for over four hundred years; it is the finest abode in all the land." Pen Stroke commented as I admired the grand structure before me.

I said nothing in response; instead, I simply continued silently following him, and continued gawking at the castle. I had lived in Trottingham all my life, but I had never seen the royal castle before. The city was very heavily divided by class; impoverished and homeless ponies like me were typically stuck in filth-ridden slums, full of disease and trash. Access to the nice parts of town was restricted, with only wealthy or highborn ponies being allowed into them. Up until now, I had never been allowed near the castle, or any of the other decent parts of town. I was, of course, appreciative to finally get a chance to live without fear of famine or plague, but I couldn't help but be reminded of the struggles and troubles of the poor.

Without delay, Pen Stroke and I approached the gate guards. As we approached, Pen Stroke was questioned by one of the guards.

"Sir Pen Stroke, who exactly is this griffin with you?" the guard said, staring at me. I immediately felt extremely uncomfortable, freezing up with anxiety and staring down at the cobblestone ground under me.

"You are looking at Sir Valiant, heir apparent to the throne, soon to be King Valiant." Pen Stroke explained. The guard took a moment to examine me, looking obviously skeptical as he did so.

"This is Philippe's heir? Fine; I suppose you'd know better than I would, being the royal steward. You may proceed." the guard said before he and his comrades opened the gate for us. I really wasn't surprised at his skepticism; I didn't look even remotely regal. I was covered in dirt and hadn't properly bathed in weeks, I was very underweight as the result of malnutrition, my feathers were completely ruffled and unkempt, and I was completely naked. I certainly did not look the part of a noble.

Feeling a complete lack of confidence, I kept following Pen Stroke, who led me through the castle courtyard into the keep. The interior of the keep was quite elegant, to say the least. Fine red carpeting covered the floor, while statues of former rulers of the Trastámare-a dynasty and ornate paintings lined the walls. Branching off from the hallways were many richly decorated rooms fulfilling a variety of purposes, all of which were full of expensive looking furniture. Chandeliers were hung in every room, and the hallways were lit by torches mounted to the walls.

"Well, now that we've arrived at our destination I believe it's time to do something about your appearance. I'll fetch some of the servants to properly bathe and groom you, then we'll have the royal tailor measure you and begin working on some royal vestments for you to wear to your coronation." Pen Stroke said.

"I can bathe myself, you know; I'm not a child." I complained, subtly rubbing a hoof against the carpet.

"But, sir, it's unbecoming of a noble such as yourself to manually perform such tasks; it's traditional for servants to handle it for you." Pen Stroke said.

"To Tartarus with the damn traditions, I say. If I'm going to be the King, I'm not wasting the state's money on worthless frivolities like paying servants to do things I ought to be doing myself." I asserted. I really didn't like the idea of paying ponies to do incredibly simple tasks for me; not only was it a complete waste of money (a waste of taxpony money, no less), I just plain and simple didn't like being around strangers or having strangers do things for me. I knew I would be entirely uncomfortable letting servants baby me all the time, so I found the confidence to tell Pen Stroke as much.

"Ugh, fine, sir; if you absolutely insist on violating noble traditions, I suppose there's not much I can do about it. I'll just have to fire a few servants and readjust the staff budget, if you're going to be doing menial tasks yourself. Alright, follow me, then; I'll take you to the castle bathhouse, and you can bathe and groom yourself." Pen Stroke told me with a frustrated sigh.

He proceeded to lead me down the hall, into a large, high-ceilinged room covered in ceramic tiling, with a large, deep pool of slightly steaming water in the center. Several wooden cabinets, multiple racks of towels and bath robes, buckets, and wash basins were placed throughout the room.

"Here we are, sir, the castle bathhouse. This room was built over a natural hot spring, as you can see in the center, allowing an unlimited supply of warm water for bathing. You'll find soaps, brushes, washcloths, and other such supplies inside the cabinets. I'll return in an hour or so; I trust you'll be able to thoroughly clean yourself in that time." Pen Stroke said before turning and walking off.

After Pen Stroke left and gave me some privacy, I got to work giving myself the first bath I had had in over a month. It took quite a bit of scrubbing, and a lot of soap, but I was eventually able to remove the copious quantities of dirt and grime from my body, restoring my fur to it's natural white color, getting myself nice and clean. I also took the time to preen myself, making my feathers and wings more presentable-looking. I still didn't look the part of a king, but I looked far better than I did before; I no longer looked like a beggar from the slums, which was a good start towards gaining the royal appearance which was expected of me.

"Ah, good, I see you've finished. Now that you're no longer coated in filth, it's time to see the royal tailor; I'm sure she is very eager to start working on your attire. Please, follow me, sir." Pen Stroke said, walking through the door just as I was finishing drying myself.

Without any comment, I followed Pen Stroke, the stallion leading me down the hall into a moderately sized room full of mannequins, spools of fabric, racks of clothes, sewing needles, and other such tailoring-related materials. In the room, busy sorting through a stack of papers, was a dark brown unicorn mare with a light brown mane, light blue eyes, and a sewing needle for a cutie-mark.

"Ahem. Miss Stitch?" Pen Stroke said, catching the attention of the mare.

"Oh, hello! This must be Philippe's heir you told me about; here for coronation attire, I'm sure." the mare said, magically grabbing a measuring stick, a quill and ink, and a blank piece of parchment before walking over to me.

"My name is Swift Stitch, sir; I'm the royal tailor. If you would just stand still for a moment, I'll get your measurements completed, then I'll get to work making a stunning outfit for you to wear for the coronation ceremony." the mare said, getting up close to me and starting to take measurements.

I felt very uncomfortable very quickly with the mare violating my personal space and touching me, but I didn't voice my complaints. I didn't like being touched, and I really didn't like being around strangers, but, figuring it was best to just get it over with, I decided not to say anything. Quietly, I just let Swift Stitch finish her work and held still for her, hoping to myself that she'd finish as quickly as possible. Thankfully, she didn't take too long to finish taking the measurements and writing them down.

"My my, you are certainly quite thin. I know the Church says temperance is a virtue, but you really ought to consider eating more, sir." Swift Stitch commented as she set down her measuring stick and writing utensils on her desk.

After hearing her comment, I was reminded that I hadn't eaten at all during the last two days (a common theme for the impoverished in Great Griffin). I decided to say something, in the hopes of getting a good meal for the first time in quite some time.

"Speaking of eating, I'm quite famished." I commented to Pen Stroke.

"Ah, of course, sir; I'll have the castle cooks start preparing dinner right away. While we wait for them to finish, I will explain your rights, duties, and statuses as King; after all, it is quite important that you understand your position." Pen Stroke said.

He proceeded to fetch a few of the castle servants, and had them begin preparing to cook for me. After that, he proceeded to lead me up several flights of spiraling staircases to the highest tower of the castle (which served as my own personal quarters). It was divided into three tiers; a bedchamber at the top (with a view overlooking all of Trottingham), a private study in the middle (full of books, writing utensils, and other study materials, almost all of which were completely useless to me), and a private dining area at the bottom (separate from the main dining hall of the castle). They were all extraordinarily luxurious, full of rich mahogany furniture, lit by diamond chandeliers, covered with exotic carpets with elaborate designs, coated with gilded walls lined with famous artwork. It was a quite spectacular sight, unlike anything else I had ever seen before.

Pen Stroke sat down with me at the extravagant table in the dining area, and started speaking.

"Alright, now, allow me to explain your role as monarch of Great Griffin. As King, you shall have multiple important rights and duties to exercise. Firstly, you'll be in charge of appointing the Prime Minister; it shall also be within your rights to remove and replace the presiding Prime Minister at any point. Secondly, you will become Commander-in-Chief of the Royal Griffish military, and will be expected to oversee all military operations within the country. Thirdly, it shall be your right to propose legislation to Parliament, which may approve, amend, or reject any proposition. Similarly, you shall have the right to veto any piece of legislation passed by Parliament. Fourthly, you shall preside over all diplomatic operations of the state, and will be expected to deal with any foreign dignitaries visiting the country. Finally, as King, you will become the head of the Church of Trottingham, and will have final authority over all theological and ecclesiastical matters in our country. Any questions?" Pen Stroke said.

"If I wanted to implement reforms, how would I be able to get Parliament to go along with it?" I asked. Having experienced the plights of the poor for myself, I had resolved to try and alleviate the suffering of the lower class in Trottingham and elsewhere as soon as I was crowned King. Most of the nobles in Great Griffin were incredibly sheltered, having little knowledge or understanding of what impoverished ponies had to go through in our country; I was obviously not among those nobles. I didn't care much about other ponies in general, typically, but I had seen for myself that the living conditions of the lower classes had become a major problem, and I wanted to fix it.

"Well, to be honest, dealing with Parliament is mostly just a matter of bribery. Some MPs will support legislation based on merit, but most need to be convinced with gifts or little concessions to win them over. It's normally most effective to just hand out money to them, but, sometimes, they'll ask for something different, such as being given a special title or having a relative placed in a government position. As long as you're willing and able to hand out bribes, Parliament will typically support any legislation the Crown proposes." Pen Stroke said.

"As for me being Commander-in-Chief, does that mean I'll need to personally direct our army in the event of war?" I asked.

"The Royal Officer Corps will do most of the work if you are unwilling or unable to serve as a commander on the battlefield, though you will, of course, be welcome to manually direct things if you so prefer. Part of your role of Commander-in-Chief will also be the power to make declarations of war, and decide which general's strategy to implement against any future enemies." Pen Stroke answered.

"And, about the whole diplomacy thing...Do I really need to talk to foreign diplomats myself? Can't I just get the royal diplomatic corp to handle it for me?" I asked.

"Well, I suppose you could, but it's a matter of tradition for the monarch to personally handle visits from dignitaries; it would reflect poorly on your image to place other ponies in charge of your diplomatic responsibilities." Pen Stroke replied.

"One last thing: What will my responsibilities within the Church involve?" I asked.

"As Supreme Governor of the Church, your primary duty is the appointment of bishops, most important among which is the Archbishop of Canterpony, the most senior bishop within the Church. You will also have the authority to make changes to current Church doctrines, or establish formal Church positions on an issue, although I would recommend against meddling in clerical affairs for the time being; the clergy likely won't be particularly happy to have their rites changed by a monarch who is incapable of even reading the scriptures." Pen Stroke said.

"Right, of course. I suppose I don't have any more questions." I said.

Before Pen Stroke could say anything else, there was a knock on the door. Four servants proceeded to enter the room, carrying silver platters full of food and setting them down on the table. They covered the large table with every kind of dish imaginable, ranging from cucumber sandwiches to éclairs to caviar. It was more food than I would normally eat in a month, all laid out on gilded plates with fancy silverware. The servants all gave a respectful bow after placing everything, and then proceeded to exit the room.

"Why is there so much food here?" I asked.

"What do you mean? This is the standard size of a typical royal dinner." Pen Stroke responded.

"Gluttony is a sin, Pen Stroke; nobody needs to eat this much." I said.

"If you wish, I can tell the castle cooking staff to serve more minimalistic meals in the future. You are, after all, the soon-to-be King; it is entirely within your power to choose what the cooks serve you." Pen Stroke offered.

"Yes, please, do so." I said. After years of malnutrition, going with little to no food on a regular basis, it just rubbed me the wrong way to have massive, wasteful feasts when I knew from personal experience that there were so many ponies who weren't fortunate enough to have food at all. Besides, it was the will of divine Providence that ponies eat only what they need and not engage in gluttonous over-indulgence.

Having said everything I needed to, I proceeded to eat dinner, enjoying the first good meal I had had in such a long time. It was a nice feeling, having a plentiful amount of food, although I was a bit less than pleased with the decadent noble lifestyle of having such unnecessary volumes of it in a world where so many suffered from hunger.