Author's Note

Juxtaponition rules over the plebians with an iron fist.

Twilight interviewed the peasantry?

"Hey you! You there!"

"Hay's for horses, why don't you call me--oh. A horse."

Twilight landed in front of the peasants with an unimpressive thud. "Okay then, 'oh a horse'. I didn't know you were called that."

Oh a horse huffed. "What I object to is you automatically treating me like an inferior!"

Twilight looked at the peasant. Then at her wings. And her horn (somehow). And the neat crown that was conveniently sitting on top of her head. "Well, I am--"

"Shut--" Oh a horse placed a finger over Twilight's muzzle. "I am SICK and TIRED of all these royal folks rompin' through our town! Every single one of 'em, imperialists! Land snatchers! Penny pinchers! Tell me, what do the taxes we pay go towards?"

Twilight blinked. "You don't pay any taxes to me."

"Well then, what do the taxes your horse-people pay you go to?"

"Intercontinental ballistic friendship missiles."

"I see. And does it help your people?"

Twilight shrugged.

"And on what basis do you draw your executive power from? It better not be another soggy woman with a sword."

Twilight vehemently shook her head. "Oh, no no, nothing like that. I was magically transformed by our lord and savior, Princess Celestia! Or I suppose, I completed a spell that incidentally transformed me, and then Celestia deemed me a princess for my efforts."

"Uh-huh. Another unelected tyrant then, gifted their land and power by an even greater tyrant who not only pulls the strings of a nation, but those of an entire religious sect as well. We have no need for your kind around here. Shoo, shoo."

Twilight in her confusion proceeded to be swept away by a literal broom.