“Tea?”

“Why yes, thank you.” Celestia replied cordially. Her smile was small, but genuine, and exuded a pleasant warmness. In her mind, she analysed every movement he made, and everything he said, and how he said it. She noted he left out the proper title of ‘Your Majesty’, although his rhetoric and age left her indecisive on why he excluded it. Either age had made him forget, or it was a meagre display of contempt. Celestia had the feeling that depending on his wits later in the day, she might receive her answer. In truth, she did not mind how she was addressed; she wasn’t her sister. But the Princess needed to know whether this discourse would be civil… or slightly less so.

Professor Coattail was an elderly stallion, something which caught Celestia by surprise. His coat was a dull, dark ginger, his mane short and brown, greyed throughout save a few sparse strands atop his head. He carried himself with pride, but not of a vain or pompous kind. Instead, it was a pride that one was entitled to after a long life of study and work. She was surprised that he’d wait until now, in the throes of old age, to publicly complain of Celestia’s reign. She wasn’t a tyrant, nor was she here to enact some kind of self-defined ‘justice’; but she was insatiably curious. Perhaps a part of her even wanted to hear critique; the monotony of constant praise from her subjects meant that this single stallion could be a breath of fresh (albeit foul odoured) air.

“Thank you,” Celestia spoke in a silvery tone, as his tangerine aura placed her tea on the table. The elderly stallion sat adjacent to her on a patchwork couch, his expression neutral. She took it in her own aura, immediately bringing the beverage to her lips, sipping it gingerly.

“I noticed you didn’t specify how many sugars,” Coattail queried. This statement prompted Celestia to give a small smile, her head craned slightly as she adopted an expression of perplexity.

“Well, over the last millennium, I’ve acquired a taste for many sugars; or few; or none,” Celestia explained. “Being flexible to the host’s afternoon tea is integral to diplomacy, I find.”

“You say that in jest, but not many ponies could utter what you just said. Your comment about being a millennia old, I mean,” Coattail said, his expression ponderous. “Truly, being born an alicorn is analogous to winning first place in the lottery of life. But then... you were born first place in many things.”

“I concede, that I admit. Immortality is not something easily gained; I just so happened to be born with such a gift,” explained Celestia, shrugging.

“Yes, yes. But that isn’t the sole gift of your stock, is it?” Coattail stated, exhaling through the nose. “You were born both in, and with, immense power. ‘Princess Celestia of Equestria’, regent over the sun, with puissance enough to make all lesser beings cower at your almightiness.”

“I cannot tell if you’re being deriding or flattering, Professor.” Celestia spoke with a sly smile, although it was to hide her slight offence. She wasn’t aware she made any ‘cower’ at all; actually, she had quite frequently as of late made a lot of errors and failings concerning enemies of the state. “But if that were true, why are you not cowering right now before your princess? If I were as much a tyrant as your words imply, I’d have already smote you to cinders right now. And to have power is not to have intellect or wisdom, as you must have done many years of study to attain it. I wasn’t born with everything, this you must know.”

“Princess, I meant only kindness, and know you not a tyrant. But to say that none fear you even on a base level, despite your outward image, is incorrect,” Coattail said, articulating with the movements of a hoof, a habit gained through years of lecturing. “However, I would ask that you cease this humility at once. I may have fifty years of reading, studying, research and whatnot behind my many years. However, to even imply my intelligence is near yours is to mock me. Even if you had never read a book in your life, you surely have culminated my level of knowledge seventy times over, simply having lived for so long.”

“You are putting me on a very high pedestal, Professor. One that ever so gradually gets higher and higher. I fear your intent is to clip my wings and push me off,” Celestia quipped, her hooves crossing. “But be that as it may, I must now ask. For what purpose do you say the things you’re saying, and why do you openly criticise my reign?”

“To be wholly honest,” Coattail explained, “I was side-tracked. This was most unexpected. Prior to your arrival I pondered at the length the reason you offered to see me in the flesh, here at my abode. I actually considered the thought you came here to silence me-“

“Professor,” Celestia interrupted, “if all of my subjects were of the same opinion, and only one were to be contrary, everypony and myself would have no moral justification for silencing the single dissident-“

“Yes, yes, that I agree with-“

“Neither,” she continued, punctuating her point with a wave of her hoof, “would the one pony, if he had the power and influence, be justified in silencing the other,”

“Ho, ho, you severely overestimate me then,” he scoffed, looking at her with bewilderment.

“On the contrary, Professor. Your paper and lectures have become quite popular, and even the muttered conversation of my court.”

“Gossip, no matter where it is exchanged, does not equate to my influence, Princess. Nor do the bits I receive for my books. The two do not necessarily correlate. Just because my words are being read and listened to does not mean they are being taken to heart. Although, I must now ask, are you too trying to place me on a pedestal?”

“Just so I can stare at you eye to eye, Professor,” Celestia retorted, prompting the stallion to chuckle.

“Yes, yes, indeed so...” Coattail agreed. Celestia took another sip from her tea. Coattail smirked as he gave her a nod of recognition.

“Shall we discuss the content of your paper, Professor?” Celestia proposed.

“I don’t see why not. That is why you’re here, is it not?” Coattail inquired, settling back into his chair. “I must admit, I never thought I’d be discussing my writings with the princess herself. But I am eager to hear what you have to say about it, even if it is less than flattering to your regime,” he ended with a roguish smile.

Celestia gave him a small nod, her horn lighting up as she picked up the manuscript on the table. She placed it beside her on the couch, looking down at it with an indifferent expression. ‘The Equestrian Republic’ was its title, large and heavy; printed in big bold blue letters. She flipped the first page with her hoof, her eyes tracing down the first page, absorbing every word before casting an eye to the elderly stallion.

“The subject of this grand essay is not to decry our Princess as a tyrant, but instead to discuss the limits of our civil and social liberties as a society. That is: What is the limitation and purpose of the power which the Princess can legitimately exercise over the entirety of our society by her singular hoof; and how does this relate to our potential capability and opportunity to rule ourselves? This is a question seldom asked, and never discussed- not even in purely hypothetical rhetoric, behind the thickest of closed doors, in the most secret and private of societies. Hyperbole, some of you may argue, but no less true.

“Princess Celestia is a figure many adore, even to the extent to qualify for worship from observation of such reverence. However, from name alone, something is immensely wrong. Her title of ‘princess’, which if you know something of history was a conscious decision on her part, served to distance herself from the image of an autocrat. Many of Equestria’s external and internal threats go under such titles as ‘queen’, ‘lord’, or ‘emperor’, each a symbol of tyranny greater than the last. Therefore, it was a conscious decision when she came to power to wear ‘Princess’, almost with pride -or ‘amour propre’, as some of you in Canterlot may express-. However, no matter how much soft and approachable prose she may use, one mustn’t forget: an autarch she remains. One who commands total and unwavering loyalty, respect, and adoration. Not out of choice, mind; but as expected from her subjects, who, by this point in time, have been indoctrinated to such a point as to hold this unwavering reverence.”

“Now, this is quite strong a statement, Professor.” Celestia ceased reading, looking back up at the stallion across from her. “I’m a despot?”

“While I didn’t infer you were malevolent, you do indeed hold supreme power in this nation,” Coattail elaborated.

“How can I hold supreme power when there are elections?” she asked, expression shifting from confusion to mild amusement.

“There are indeed, but only at the local level, and the officials usually hold their positions for life. Even then, the local government is largely just to gather and collect taxes to fill the royal treasury. You don’t have any obligation to listen to the requests of your subjects; and even if they were to make an overwhelming demand, what leverage do they hold?” Coattail shrugged, clasping his hooves together. “All the power of our government is in your hooves. So I ask: what relevance do we have in the control of state?”

“About as much relevance as I have in the local affairs of a pony’s personal life. While it is true that you were born and raised under my rule, I do not dictate your every word and action, do I?” Celestia said, arching her brow.

“Ah, but this is not a debate over the personal freedoms of the citizenry. You, as supreme controller of the state, are allowed to alter our civil rights at will. It is a debate about your position in the government, which has a direct impact on the liberties of society. Are we truly free if we cannot choose who leads us, and are born under the inherent control of a singular immortal monarch? If a society is not free to dictate who rules it, then the ponies who make up that society themselves are not free,” he pontificated. Celestia shifted in her seat.

“If I were to go outside right now and ask a pony on the street if they were free, what would their reply be?” asked the Princess, after a few long moments.

“Probably ‘Yes, Your Majesty’,” Coattail retorted, sharply exhaling through his nostrils.

“Then they are free, aren’t they? Freedom, as a concept anyway, is more a state of mind than an observable phenomena? But liberty’s nature as an objective or subjective truth is up for debate, Professor. To argue all are born in metaphorical shackles, because they’re born under a monarch, is to employ wild exaggeration. But remind me, because you like I, know something of history; who in the past millennia kept slaves beneath them?”

“King Sombra of the Crystal Empire is the most prominent, and whom I assume you’re implying.”

“Yes, and he was not of royal birth. He was merely a mortal unicorn who assumed position through force and power, unlike I, who ascended peacefully to my designation. To be a peaceful ruler with the full support of her subjects- surely this is a hallmark of a free society?”

“But I don’t propose violence, Princess. I propose a peaceful solution, where the citizens can nominate their leader through voting and elections. Just like we do locally, but on the national scale. I can’t comprehend why you see fault with that idea.”

“Because it is heavy with flaw, Professor.” Celestia reined herself in, stopping her voice from increasing in volume. “Actually, I have a question. If these elections were held, and the candidates stepped forward, what if the citizens willingly voted for and elected a dictator? Somepony who would infringe on their personal freedoms, and the masses willingly subjected themselves to it- would that be preferable?”

“That’s a strawpony argument, Princess, but to refute it I will reply simply with: Yes. Because in that scenario, unlike now, the citizenry chose it. They did not choose you; just as a pony does not choose to be born a pegasi, a unicorn, or an earth pony.”

“Then you make an argument for choice, not inherent liberty, Professor,” Celestia noted.

“What meaningful difference exists? Shouldn’t we be free to make our choices from birth, rather than have them dictated for us by an unelected monarch?”

“Then by your logic, Professor, a parent should not be able to make choices for their foal. Aren’t we all born slaves to our parents? ” she inquired brow furrowed, a wan smile creasing her muzzle.

“But unlike your metaphor, Princess, we cease being slaves to our parents when we reach adulthood. Do you agree an adult is free to make their own choices?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Then by all means, we should be free to not pay our taxes.”

“But then the state would cease to function!” She interjected, the idea ridiculous to her ears.

“Then that means we are all obligated from birth to the state; consequently, when we are no longer slaves to our parents, we are slaves to the whims of state –your state– and are therefore not free as a society.” Coattail finished his statement with a flick of his hoof. “If we vote for a leader who specified low or high taxes, we elect a leader knowing that beforehoof. But when we’re born under a monarch, this fiscal responsibility is forced upon on us as soon as we reach adulthood, without any say in the matter.”

“If you’re enslaved to the state from birth, then why does it matter who you choose to be enslaved to? In the minotaur lands, the leaders are all from certain noble families- an oligarchy I believe it is called. They all vote for themselves, or whoever promises the most gifts to the greatest number. Then, when they’re elected, they are under no obligation to fulfil the promises they made.” Celestia continued on her little tangent, “The only difference between democracy on a small scale and on a large scale is the number of ponies the candidates lie to. A thousand elected ponies, each unique, each fallible; this is a less reliable system than to have a single benevolent monarch. Democracies, more often than not, are circuses,” she concluded with ludicrous articulation, sinking back into her seat.

“You’re making an argument against democracy, but still ignore the underlying point of one. It is to allow the ponies to act- to give them a voice. If we want something for the whole of our nation to strive for, we vote for it. We’re free to choose our collective fate.”

“But, Professor Coattail, what of the minority?”

“What of them?”

“You leave a society fractured and discontent. One half content and happy, the other disenfranchised and angry. Under a monarchy, all are unanimously discontent, or content.”

“That is something you cannot possibly know or calculate,” he replied, shaking his head.

“That’s a given. But it is indisputable that the role I play in the lives of my subjects is minimal. When they’re discontent or unhappy, it’s not likely to be my fault directly. The blame lies with the elected local official, or a neighbour, or themselves. However, if you have an elected leader of state, then it simply adds another thing to their list of woes. Instead of a political divide on a local level, it extends across the entirety of the country. The stable, unchanging status quo of my leadership allows many to be content with their lives. And it does not create a division in society, one that would be unavoidably present under a democracy. How many friendships would end, relationships fall to ruin, and sections of society be marginalized under a republic?”

“So you’d rather they not have a choice to whom their leader is? Because to deprive them of all choice in their government is more convenient and preferable to you?”

“It is preferable to all my subjects. I would not remove their free will, not under any circumstance.”

“Whom you have absolute power over, and benefit from, their content nature?”

“If the majority are content, then it sounds to me, as it should to you, that their choice has already been made.”

“Well,” Coattail signed, scratching his head, “I see you’re unmovable on your stance regarding democracy. As am I on monarchy, although unlike you I won’t have as many years to be staunch on it.”

“Yes, we seem to have reached an impasse. Although, Professor, I do admire you for your stalwart defense of your ideas. It is admirable for an intellectual to be unmovable from their opinion. Even if I do not see your arguments as stronger than mine, I don’t dismiss them entirely. Actually, this book has given me quite a great deal to think about.”

“Thank you, Princess,” Coattail said, his voice bore the warmth of sincerity.

“Please, Professor; call me Celestia,” she uttered with more than a mote of kindness, giving a respectful nod to the old stallion.

“If I am given the privilege of referring to you on a first name basis, then I extend the same to you, no matter how undeserving it is of being called a ‘privilege.’”

“Professor Coattail, believe me, it is a privilege.”

“Coming from you, that means quite a lot… Celestia. I am greatly humbled. Thank you.” He inclined his head to her, and she returned the gesture of recognition. “I wish we could have had this debate when I was younger. It’s been awhile since I last discussed ideas like this with anypony.”

“If you would like, Coattail, we could discuss this again at a later date. Who knows? In time, you may even sway me on my stances,” Celestia regarded at the stallion with guile, sipping her now cold tea.

“Now, now, Celestia. Do not propose the impossible. It isn’t worth considering.”

“You cannot know what is impossible until you’ve tried it, Coattail. Although, now that it has been said, I would love to see you try to explain why a monarchy is flawed to my sister.” She laughed at the thought.

“Steadfast, is she?” Coattail chuckled.

“Steadfast is... underwhelming, describing her. Without seeing a thousand years of progress firsthoof, she is more than a little… traditionalist.”

“Did she demand the return of public executions and serfdom?” Coattail mused aloud, with sarcastic humor in his voice.

“Oh, Professor Coattail... do not be so tame.”

Author's Note

If you leave a dislike, please a comment explaining your reason and so I can learn what I did wrong. Otherwise it's meaningless. If you liked this fiction, thank you! I appreciate it immensely. Good day or evening wherever you are.