“...And that’s when I came out of law school. Suddenly, I realised just how difficult it was to get a good job in that field without already knowing someone important. It’s a saturated market, you see,” the stallion sat opposite from Octavia awkwardly fiddled with his bowtie, “so after floating between a few obscure jobs I landed one in the mayor’s office, and things took off from there.”
“Mhmm,” Octavia nodded, her eyes scanning the converted ballroom all the while, watching the renowned and distinguished mingle and laugh in their false camaraderie. Eventually, her gaze settled back on the poor stallion. He would never realise just how dispensable he was, nor how boring. “And from there you became the mayor’s personal secretary, yes?”
He nodded, grinning in what struck Octavia as pure self-satisfaction.
“You really did advance quickly. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were running that office before long,” Octavia lied, her soft eyes trained on him all the while. The contact helped to sell the line, make it feel more authentic. Of course, he ate it up.
“Well,” he leaned in, almost conspiratorial in his movements as he glanced around for listeners, “this didn’t come from me, but the mayor is strongly considering running for governor. I imagine it won’t be long until they’re looking for his replacement, considering his public support.”
Now that was interesting. Octavia gave him a noncommittal nod, banking the knowledge for whatever use it might have in future. It would certainly change things, but right now it made no difference to her goals. “And you think you could run?”
“I mean, I know I don’t have formal experience, but I basically do half of the mayor’s work. I know the processes and the duties far better than anyone who hasn’t held office before, and I imagine that could shine through in an election.”
He was deluded. Perhaps if he was endorsed by someone powerful, it might be possible, but as it was he was just another graduate who had failed to get a hoof in the door, and had then resigned himself to writing letters and filing papers for somepony that he would never be on the same level as. “Formal experience doesn’t matter so much when you’ve got knowledge and charisma. I imagine you would do just fine. Better than fine, in fact.”
“That means a lot coming from you, Miss Melody,” he replied with a sheepish smile, still tugging at his overly tight bowtie, “Ponies say that you’re pretty good at predicting just how something’s going to turn out.”
“Well, now I know you’re either lying or trying to flatter me,” Octavia batted her eyelids, she had to hide her smirk at the small jolt she got in reaction. This was too easy. “There is simply no way that ponies actually discuss me, or my thoughts.”
The secretary shook his head. “More than you think, Miss Melody. Ever since the Fillydelphia trade deal you helped broker, more and more ponies have begun to take notice of you. I’ve heard the mayor say your name once or twice, in fact.”
“Really?” she asked, her reaction genuine for the first time, “What did he say?”
“Not much, really. Just that he sees you going places.”
This felt like the right time. Octavia had spent the last half hour buttering this guy up, now to go in for the kill. “You know, I’ve never actually had a chance to speak to the mayor one on one. We operate in the same circles, but often on dissimilar matters. There are a few things I’d be interested in discussing with him personally, but it’s finding the right time.” She twirled an errant tuft of her mane with a hoof as she spoke.
His eyes lit up, just as they were meant to. He saw an opportunity to ingratiate himself to her, and he took it. “You know, the mayor listens to what I say pretty often. I could probably set you up a meeting pretty quickly?”
Not exactly what she wanted to hear, but it was a start. “No need for a meeting,” she said, lightly shaking her head and chuckling between her words, “it seems a little too official for the situation, in all honesty. No, I’d be quite satisfied to just spend a few minutes in his presence, I don’t think scheduling something is strictly necessary.”
“It’s silly how it works, isn’t it?” the secretary laughed, attempting to empathise with her, “I’ve never been a fan of the red tape, but unfortunately I’m not authorised to set up meetings between the mayor and any other party without a time, name, and reason for the meeting written and stamped in.”
Was that really the extent of his influence? Perhaps she had been wasting her time with him this whole while. Octavia refrained from scowling at the prospect, he might at least be good for a little more information. “It’s sad to hear that, but not too much of a problem,” she waved a hoof, brushing away the concern as if it was nothing, “I’ve got quite the packed schedule right now, so I think I’ll hold off on making any arrangements for the moment, I’m sure you understand.”
“Why, yes, Miss Melody, of course. Honestly, if it were up to me, I would go and fetch him from across the room right now and save you the hassle, but I imagine that wouldn’t go down well with whoever he’s speaking to.”
Octavia laughed airily at his comment. “Believe me, if that were possible, I would have whisked him away an hour ago. Still,” she smiled, brushing her withers with a hoof, “I’ve managed to find some pleasant company, so things could have gone worse.”
They could have gone a lot better, however. “As have I,” he nodded, finally leaving his bowtie alone. By now, Octavia wanted to reach across the table and rip the thing off him. “It’s nice to be sat with a fellow humanitarian, really. I’ve heard of the work that you do with Stable, and I think it’s absolutely brilliant. They’re a wonderful group.”
Octavia was sure the stallion was only trying to get on her good side, but she couldn’t help but agree. Stable was one of the only true not for profit organisations in Equestria, and they did a good service for many disadvantaged ponies. “They really are, I’m glad I’m able to pitch in.”
Before the secretary could respond, a stallion called his name from a few feet away. Octavia turned ever so slightly with the voice, finding a regally dressed pony in her peripherals, one of the very few Octavia had ever seen to be wearing a monocle. Strangely, it suited him.
“Can I help you, sir?”
“Yes, son, I do believe you can. The mayor was calling after you just now, apparently he needs your assistance with preparations for a speech. I wouldn’t keep him waiting, either. The old sod’s managed to lose his flashcards, so unless you want him to improv on economic reform for ten minutes straight, I’d get a swift trot on.”
In a flash, the secretary was up. “Yes, sir, I’ll be there in an instant.”
“You don’t need to tell me that,” the stallion chortled with a charming lilt, “personally I wouldn’t mind seeing him stumble for once, I might have gotten a good laugh out of it. In fact, I had half a mind to deliberately forget to fetch you. Alas, my conscience managed to wrestle me into submission... A shame, really.”
The secretary didn’t waste time. Even as the last words left the mouth of the stallion with the pristine blue coat and the strongly defined muzzle, he was scrambling across the room in search of his boss. As Octavia spectated, she felt oddly conflicted. She had wanted to see if she could glean any more information from the secretary, and his departure made her feel that her efforts had been in vain.
However, this stallion was an enigma. Not many ponies could get away with insulting the mayor in any sense, yet he appeared so calm and dignified in his actions. Even as Octavia processed the implications of that, he slowly and gracefully sauntered over, easing himself into the same seat the secretary had inhabited a moment before. “Would you believe me if I said I misplaced those flashcards myself?”
Octavia slanted an eyebrow, studying the straight and unmoving face of her new visitor. His visage was incredibly stolid, save for a glint in his eyes, which seemed to be filled with vibrance. “Why would you do that?”
“Well, to get you away from that bore, for a start,” he chuckled, straightening his jacket, “I could hear him from the other side of the room, his voice alone was melting the ice sculpture.”
“That isn’t the only reason,” Octavia called out, not intent on playing games, “what else?”
“In all honesty? I was dreadfully bored,” the stallion took off his monocle, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket with a touch of blue magic and beginning to clean it in small circular movements, “and looking for some good company,” he inclined his head towards her, “and I figured that the best way to attain said company was to free up some space around you. Naturally, sending the secretary off to do his job was the most favourable choice.”
“You’re saying that you went to all of that trouble just to be able to sit with me? Who am I to you? Is there something that we need to discuss?”
“To me, you are simply a young mare with a very nice mane. I like to make a habit of surrounding myself with ponies more beautiful than I, it’s a matter of aesthetics, really. I would ask your name, however.”
Octavia wasn’t buying it. Of course, it was highly possible that this was in fact a pony like any other who just so happened to take a liking to her image, but what he claimed to have done just to sit next to her seemed strangely elaborate. That, coupled with his manner of dress and apparent connection to the mayor made him a very interesting character, likely a lot more so than he let on.
“...Miss?”
Oh, right. “My name is Octavia, I work in the private sector.” Octavia knew to say as little as she needed to when talking to strangers, there was no need to give details, after all.
“Ah, the private sector!” the stallion smirked, “Lots of money to be had there, very profitable. I daresay, working directly under the government isn’t nearly as lucrative in most cases.”
Octavia chose to ignore that comment; it felt as if he was trying to invite himself into a conversation about her career, one she would much rather avoid. Time to turn the tables. “And yourself?” she asked, her voice smooth and cordial, “Who are you?”
“Me?” the stallion laughed, pointing a large, well groomed hoof at himself, “I am but a snobbish, supercilious dandy, content to get my kicks out of inviting myself to places I really don’t belong in and draining every last drop of scotch present.”
He’s full of it, surely. “I meant to ask your name, not a summary of your character.”
“Then you should have asked my name,” he winked, eyes alight with mirth, “I only asked you one question, don’t presume that you get to ask two in turn.”
“Then how do you suppose we learn anything about one another?” Octavia posed, a hoof to her chin as she studied him.
“Have you ever met a zebra?”
“Two or three, actually.”
“Let me tell you something I learned in Zebrica,” Fancy placed the monocle back over his eye, allowing it to accentuate his gaze, “the natives were once subject to a great deal of prejudice, a terrible shame, really. Slavery, sub-pony treatment, a great deal of abuse... They aren’t fond of being asked questions, they regard it as a form of interrogation. Can you imagine why?”
Octavia didn’t have to think about it, he wasn’t telling her anything she was unaware of. “Because giving their information away is likely to unsettle them. They might be worried that they’ll be pushed back into a situation where they have no control, and as such they’re protective of their information. That’s what I’d imagine, at least.”
“I believe the zebras are smart to think this way, it’s something more ponies could do to learn, rather than leaving their thoughts unguarded and ripe for the picking.” Looking away, he located a bottle and pair of glasses on a nearby table and levitated them over. “Alcohol! The great equaliser, and spiller of loosely kept secrets,” he finished, half a smirk on his face. Unstopping the bottle of wine, he began to pour out a pair of glasses, before offering one to Octavia.
“No thank you, I tend not to drink.” It was true, and especially true when dealing with mysterious stallions during official events.
“We won’t be needing this one, then,” he snorted, his snout lifting as he levitated Octavia’s glass over to his muzzle, downing the half full glass in a few gulps. “Pardon me, the conversation has been so dry this evening that my throat was beginning to feel the effects, I was positively parched. Anyway,” he swilled the remaining glass as he set the first down, “despite the variance of my recent words, red hits me like a bulldozer, so it’s probably best I sate your curiosity before I’m too pissed to salvage my dignity.”
“Oh,” Octavia cocked her head, “so I have your permission to ask questions now?”
“Precisely. Nothing too intrusive, of course, but proceed as you wish.”
“In that case, I’ll refrain.”
For the first time, there was a pause from the stallion. Octavia felt his eyes flick up and down her, as if he was appraising her. “Why is that?”
“Because I’m not entirely sure I’d trust any answer I get,” Octavia laughed. Strangely, it almost felt genuine.
“And now you’re thinking like a true politician!” he cheered, taking a sip from the second glass. “Don’t worry, Octavia dear, it takes more than a few sips of wine to inebriate me. I just happen to have a bit of a flare for the dramatic at times, excuse the exaggeration.”
“Perhaps you could give me a straight answer this time. Just what are you doing here? I assume there’s more to it than the free bar and the substandard company.”
“You truly wish to know? Very well,” lowering his glass, he put a hoof to his chest, as if to signify the honesty of his words, “I, Octavia, am here in search of dirt I can use to publicly defame an esteemed governor by the name of Case Point, I’m sure you’ve heard of her?” he paused only long enough to see Octavia’s eyes widen, “Once I’ve achieved that, I will go about utilising my associates in an attempt to install a new governor, one I have a significant level of pull over.”
“...You can’t be serious.” Octavia was sure he must have been joking, there was no way anypony would freely admit to something like that.
“Oh, if only I was! Trust me, it’s so much work trying to orchestrate these clandestine things, I often wish I could pack it all in and tell everypony that the gig is up! Unfortunately, I was never that lazy, so I force myself to persevere. The problem is trying to find something to hold over Case Point, so far she appears to be squeaky clean. Of course, things can always be falsified, but that’s a bit of a flimsy weapon and can easily backfire.”
Octavia could feel her heart beginning to pump faster; the conversation had taken a surprising turn, and she was hardly comfortable with this development. “You mean to say you’re intentionally sabotaging her, and she hasn’t even done anything wrong?”
“Maybe not in the sense of a scandal or arrest history, no, but whether she’s done anything wrong is subjective.”
“Stop deflecting,” Octavia continued with more force, “if you are in fact planning to slander her only for your own gain, that’s deeply immoral and I have no interest in discussing it further.”
“Oh, don’t write it off just yet, let me at least explain my reasoning first,” the stallion argued, raising a hoof, “Point has seen to the highest employment rate in Manehatten in fifteen years, yet tourism is falling, small businesses receive less support than they did when her predecessor was in office, and the average worker pays thirty-five percent of their earnings in tax. Now, there may not be any official proof, but ostensibly, it seems as if too much money is going out of the taxpayers’ collective bit bags and not enough back into their communities. Meanwhile Point lives in a large mansion, sends her foals to Celestia’s school, and vacations halfway across Equestria five times a year.”
Octavia had to be careful in her response. Despite his suddenly loose lips, every word he said seemed premeditated and practised, as if he was reading from a perfectly crafted script. “Even if you were correct,” she started, biting her lip as she thought of how she might continue, “what you’re considering isn’t justified, especially not by hypothesis alone. Besides, even if you were to dig up some dirt on Point, the balance would have to be just right. Too much and she would be impeached, not enough and it wouldn’t cripple her next campaign. Also, what if there’s someone due to run that you don’t expect? A wildcard, if you like?”
“What a peculiar thing to say,” the stallion mumbled as he examined his hoof. “Who, pray tell, would you advise I look out for?”
Octavia felt herself glance to the left, the question caught her off guard. “I wouldn’t know, I don’t follow electoral patterns.”
“Not our good friend the mayor, then?”
Octavia knew that her next words were breathy, but she played it off as best she could. “I don’t know why you’d say that, but as I said I know nothing about—”
“Octavia, stop. I know you’re not an idiot by now, you must have been talking to that tedious secretary for a reason! Hell, if you didn’t manage to get him talking about the mayor’s plans to run in half an hour, I’d be extremely surprised.”
“You knew already?”
“Who do you think I’m planning to back? Or rather, I would be if anything I had said just now wasn’t a total lie,” he had a childish grin on his face, his eyes shone more than ever.
“Y-you mean to say that you made all of that up?” Octavia’s brow furrowed, confusion and annoyance painted across her face.
“You’ll have to excuse me, I was genuinely curious to see if you would let slip that little piece of information we’re privy to if I led you into it. Turns out you’re not so easy.”
This was a challenge now. He had praised her, and she had to show that he was indeed correct. Not just that, that he had no idea how formidable she really was. “No, that I’m not.” It was plain and simple, the brevity reflected her annoyance in being deceived, but in truth if she had been that offended she would have gotten up and left by now, and they both knew that.
“I fear I have upset you, and I highly doubt that you have altered your standpoint on wine, so may I make reparations in another way?”
Octavia raised an eyebrow.
“You see the mayor, over there? He likes to take a little time to himself every now and then, go and smoke a cigarette. Here,” he reached into a jacket pocket, pulling out a small box of cigarettes, “take one of these and go outside in around twenty minutes.”
Octavia tentatively took the cigarette in her hooves, forming a cup so the small thing didn’t roll onto the floor. “How do you know that I wish to see the mayor alone?”
“See, usually I would put that down to the power of intuition, but this time it’s safe to blame my rather deft ear.” he poked at one of them, causing it to twitch, “I overheard the last sliver of your conversation, and fortunately I’m in a position to do what your friend couldn’t. After all, it isn’t difficult for me to to say ‘you look stressed, Plum, why don’t you go and take the edge off?’ now is it? Cut to outside and you’re standing with him in an alley... There’s no one there to snoop on you... perfect opportunity to strike up any conversation you like, or at least set one up. ”
Octavia hadn’t been sure up until now whether to believe anything he said. Rightly so, it seemed, as he turned out to be lying about at least one thing so far. She eyed the cigarette in her hooves, wondering just how it was that he might be tricking her with this. Even if he wasn’t, what were his motivations? “I am not owing you any favours,” she snapped, realising just what she could have walked into by blindly following his suggestion.
“Favours?” the stallion repeated, acting bemused, “I told you, this is to make up for my unfair treatment of you earlier, to make us even.”
Octavia had scarcely met a pony without a motive or an agenda in her entire career, even when working in charity. The prospect of him helping her as a nicity was incredibly strange. “So, what you’re telling me is that you’re going to help me meet with the mayor, and ask for absolutely nothing in return?”
“Hmm, seems that way.” He rose, brushing the sides of his jacket as he made a small bow to her. “I’ll take my leave now, let you figure out how to hold that little thing. Helps if earth ponies just keep them in their mouths, really.” Stopping to raise the other wine glass to his lips and then draining the entire thing—much like the first glass—he shot her a small grin, “There is one thing. If you would perchance be so inclined, I would be interested to know how your meeting went, and, well, to speak to you once again in general.”
That was the catch? He just wanted to see her again? That was it? Octavia knew that her lips parted slightly at the suggestion, but she pretended to mull it over all the same. Eventually, she nodded. “If you let me know how to contact you, I’ll see about making myself available.”
“Don’t worry, if you seek me out, you’ll be sure to find me. It was nice speaking to you, Miss Melody.”
Octavia stifled a gasp. “I never gave you my last name.”
“You never told me who you work for either, but it doesn’t stop me from being aware. You’re quite an interesting pony, Octavia, and you’re beginning to grow a reputation. I happen to pay good attention to ponies like you,” his striking blue eyes left hers, travelling elsewhere, “especially when they have a tail like yours. Now, as I said, I must leave. I have dinner with the head of the health board in an hour, I really shouldn’t be late.”
With that, he raised her hoof and lightly kissed it, before turning tail and leaving, his stride elegant and powerful.
Octavia’s hoof remained outstretched until he was almost gone. She didn’t stare after him, but rather at it. The kissing of hooves was intimate and meant to demonstrate affection, but it wasn’t something ponies did to others who had been outside walking all day. That stallion really was a strange one. Intelligent, certainly. Charismatic, dangerously so, and almost definitely rich to boot.
Octavia knew she was taking a gamble the second she agreed to meet him again, but there was something alluring in all of that mystery. That strange stallion just might be her key to getting where she wanted to be, yet she didn’t even know his name. Nonetheless, he said that if she looked for him, she would find him, and of all the things he had said she believed that most. He may have managed to hide a lot, but there was no covering up that he went to some lengths to speak to her. Octavia suspected she would return the favour soon.
Finally lowing her hoof after what felt like minutes, she trotted back over to the table, seeing the lone cigarette still laying there. To think, what she had put so much effort into arranging—from getting on the summit’s invite list to chatting up the secretary—and still failed to accomplish, he had managed to achieve with a few words. Or he would, if his word was anything to go by.
Octavia knew that for better or worse, nothing negative could come from going outside with the cigarette. The mayor would either be there or he wouldn’t, and her presence would do little to change that. Sighing, she began the gargantuan task of rolling the small tube to the edge of the table with a hoof and scooping the right end into her lips, a nigh impossible feat.
Thankfully, she managed to go unnoticed. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be seen as a smoker, she couldn’t care less about that. It was the fact that she had to pick it up in such a brutish manner, it was embarrassing. That said, Octavia wasn’t a smoker. She would occasionally have a cigarette after an even more occasional drink in the company of friends, but that was the only exception to the rule. Well, that and Hearth’s Warming.
Turning away from the table and leaving the glasses behind, she made her way through the large hall, brushing past business owners and politicians alike on her way to the small fire exit door that sat in the corner of the room. Outside and down a metal flight of stairs, she reached her destination, a small alleyway conjoined with the building she had just excited and another adjacent, leading out to the street beyond.
Scowling, Octavia realised that she didn’t have a lighter. It was going to look quite strange when Mayor Plum came outside to find that Octavia was standing there without a means to actually smoke. Talking with it in her mouth would prove difficult, but manageable. It was all about making sure not to move one side of her mouth too much.
Soon enough, the door creaked open and a pony slipped out, hooves clanging against the stairs in discordant chimes as he made his way down, quickly igniting a cigarette with his horn. The flame illuminated his face in the dark alley, and Octavia instantly recognised it to be the mayor, just as the stallion said it would be. Casting the light also allowed him to see her for what she assumed was the first time, but he barely flinched. “I knew there was a reason he told me to come outside,” he muttered to himself in a husky tone, “You’re Octavia Melody, yes? I’ve heard good things about you. You need to speak to me in private, I assume?”
“That I do, yes.” Octavia spoke around the cigarette in her mouth, “but could I have a light first?”
“Oh, yes! Of course, how rude of me,” a spark of his horn, and Octavia’s cigarette ignited.
She took a reasonably lengthy pull, and had to stop herself from coughing and spluttering the cigarette out of her mouth. The taste was strange and slightly offputting as usual, and the harshness of the tobacco stripped her throat a little, but the nicotine rush was almost instant. There was something magical about these little things. “I couldn’t help but hear you mention that you were asked to come outside, may I ask who by?”
This seemed to catch the mayor off guard, as he was silent for a moment. “Well, surely you know?”
“Would I ask such a question if that were the case?”
“Why, it was Fancy Pants, of course. Striking stallion, I’m sure you must remember talking to him. For him to bring me to you, you’re either a very interesting mare, or you’re about to offer me the deal of a lifetime. Frankly, I’ll be happy with either.”
Octavia took another drag on the cigarette, but inside her mind was doing flips. Fancy Pants was a name she recognised well, but had never put a face to. From Baltimare to Canterlot he was spoken of, there were many stories regarding him, some innocent anecdotes and some not innocent in any sense of the word. Among her primary thoughts when hearing the name was the fact that he was currently one of Stable’s leading benefactors. Not only that, but he had refused to have a department named after him, claiming no one wanted anything to be named after pants, and that was why he was yet to have children. Or at least, that’s how the story goes.
There were a great deal of those stories, and Fancy found himself at the centre of them most often. Knowing just who he was, Octavia began to revisit the entire conversation she had just had with him, wondering how she didn’t catch on sooner.
“...You really didn’t know, did you?” he cast a small smirk at her, “Don’t worry, he doesn’t do this with all the mares, as far as I know. I’m curious as to why he didn’t give you his name, though.”
“I imagine it’s because he donates to a charity I’m linked with, my behaviour would have changed in the knowledge that it was him.”
“Hmm, perhaps that’s what he wanted? The unmitigated side of you, I mean. Fancy has always had a thing about internal beauty, says that lies and acting are ugly, but if you can convince yourself that you are your act, your voice shines with radiance all the same. Then again, it’s always hard to know just what it is that Fancy wants.”
Octavia’s mind almost fell away from the deal she was about to propose, that she had been working tirelessly to be in a position to secure. All she knew was that Fancy Pants of all ponies had taken an interest in her, and if she had any sense of pragmatism, she would take full advantage of that in any way possible. What bothered her was that she had no clue what his wants were, or why he would even spend time speaking to her when he clearly knew much more powerful ponies. Did he see something in her? That was a curious question.
The mayor was polite. He must have realised that Octavia was recovering from slight shock, as he didn’t hurry to proceed with their conversation. It was a relief, really, because the words in her brain were jumbled right then.
All she knew was that she would definitely be seeing Fancy Pants again. She stole a glance at the hoof he had so gently kissed. Solely for business purposes.
