Random shorts (noncanon Lunaverse)

by GrassAndClouds2

Rating: everyone
Tags: Comedy
Length: 7022

greengrass has a nightmare!

Greengrass has a nightmare, Puissance comes to town, Dinky and Sweetie Belle battle the world's biggest muffin, and Fisher spends some time in Rushia.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2012-12-22 07:39:25 UTC

Greengrass's Nightmare

The first sign that things weren’t quite right was that Trixie was the prison warden. Trixie was many things, Greengrass knew, but she wasn’t a prison warden. So this was a dream, or hallucination, or…

“Ah, we’ve been waiting for you!”

Trixie seemed to have grown a foot or two, and her cloak and hat were both a dark-ish red (and her hat had horns, which was just pretentious, Greengrass thought), but it was still clearly Lulamoon. “What is this?” demanded Greengrass.

“This? This is your punishment! Canterlot Correctional Facility. Or, as I like to call it…” She grinned. “Welcome to Pony Hell!”

Behind Trixie, the other Elements walked out into… wherever they were (it was like a long hallway, though it didn’t seem to go anywhere), and began to sing instrumental tones.

“Music? Really? Now? Can’t I get settled in first?” asked Greengrass. There was a small bottle right next to him, of bourbon, and he took it in his mouth. Maybe that would help him figure out what was happening –

Trixie’s horn glowed, and then Greengrass was falling into a boggy, brackish pool. With – he quickly found out – crocodiles. The suddenly-pouring rain didn’t help. “What’s going on?” he demanded as he floundered.

Trixie floated above him and began:

”Bourbon’s good, it’s not for villains;

Water’s so much worse, as you’ll soon tell

What a sorry fella;

Drowning to the tune of our accapella

Here on level one of Pony Hell!”

Greengrass felt himself falling again, and suddenly, he was in the Night Court council room. “Hey!”

Trixie laughed. Meanwhile, a pile of money and some legislative bills popped into existence before him.

”Bribery’s wrong and so is cheating;

Forging phony Court reports is too.

Let’s let Lady Luck decide

What sort of torture’s justified –

I’m Warden here on Level 2!”

Greengrass found himself strapped to a big roulette wheel, which Trixie spun. It stopped just before his nausea became physically painful.

“Ooh!” said Trixie. “Rainbow-dunked pony! My favorite!”

And Greengrass found himself in a skillet above a pool of liquid rainbow.  Trixie began to operate it, dunking him in the rainbow juice. Which, as it turned out, was somehow even more painful than he’d have thought.

So Greengrass demanded:

”Just tell me why!”

”Please read this fifty-five page warrant!”

”I’m sure there’s ponies worse than I!”

”We checked around, there really aren’t.”

”Then let me educate:

My crimes are normal for the Game”

”Your minions shaved off Ditzy’s mane!”

”Don’t blame me, blame the whole Court!”

Trixie grinned. ”But this is my new favorite sport!”

Greengrass found himself dumped down several more levels, before a few soldiers whose careers he had ruined. Trixie popped into existence behind him.

”Wrecking officer’s careers is wrong;

Those ponies need that income to survive!”

The other ponies began to kick at Greengrass with legs that seemed to extend without limit.

”Hey Greengrass, gonna make some noise!

With your flank black and blue from Capt. Lightning’s boys!

They kicked him several more times.

”That’s what’cha, what’cha, what’cha get on Level Five!”

From somewhere far above him, Greengrass could suddenly see two figures zipping downwards on a mysterious slide.

Notary? Flim? What kind of weird dream is this?

Flim gulped.

”I don’t feel well.”

Notary shrugged. ”It’s up to us to rescue him!”

”Maybe he’d rather rule in Hell.”

”It’s us who exposed his grave sins.”

”Maybe he’s back at a motel.”

Notary chuckled. ”Come on, Flim, don’t be scared. I’m sure at least one of us will be spared.

So just sit back; enjoy the ride!”

”My flank is blistered from the slide!”

Greengrass’s attention was brought back down by Trixie dumping him into a weird pool of slime.

”Fixing votes, blackmailing nobles,

Printing lies in phony magazines!

You’ll pay for every crime,

Knee-deep in the Smooze and slime,

Suffering till the end of time,

Enduring tortures – most of which rhyme—

Trapped forever, here in Pony Hell!”

The slime surged over his head, like it was trying to asphyxiate him, and--

Greengrass awoke with a start. He put a hoof to his head. That had been a weird dream.

“Notary?”

“Yes, sir?” Notary trotted into his room. It looked like she’d been doing paperwork. “You’ll up early. Is everything okay?”

Greengrass glanced out the window. It looked noon-ish. “Ugh. Did I eat something unusual before going to bed?”

“That pickle-habanera sandwich at Stud Poker’s party, sir. He was asking his guests to help save a pickle & habanera pepper business; it’s run by his cousin.”

Greengrass remembered. Stud would be a useful ally, but…

“Notary, regrettably, some things are beyond even my wisdom.” If he never had to deal with a nightmare like that again, it would be too soon. “Tell Stud I’m not interested, okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

Greengrass fell back on his bed. Hopefully, this time he would sleep without any crazy nightmares.

Greengrass found himself in a chain gang. Behind him, he saw Blueblood, Puissance, Fisher, and others.

And the others began to sing.

”Breaking rocks in the hot sun!

“I fought the Court and the Court won!”

Greengrass bonked his head on the boulder in front of him. This was going to be a long day.

Puissance's Parade

"… and that's the story of how Equestria was made!"

Trixie grinned and applauded as Lyra finished. Cheerilee had decided to incorporate Ponyville's best bard into her lesson on myths and tales, and so the foals and a few passerby had sat in the park and listening to her story. Now  that she was done, the foals clamored for more.

"Can't we have one more story?" asked Apple Bloom. "Please?"

Cheerilee smiled. "I'm sorry, class. Maybe another time. But for now, please get into a single-file line, and we'll start walking back to school."

"Hey, Trixie!"

Trixie turned to see Carrot Top running over. "What's up?"

Carrot Top gasped for air. "Something's coming this way! There's a bunch of ponies with some kind of monster!"

"Monster?" gasped the foals.

Trixie leapt to her hooves. "Cheerilee, get the foals inside. Carrot Top: what kind of monster?"

"It's got four feet, and gray, leathery skin, and a really long nose. Like, longer than three ponies standing front to back! And it's got big floppy ears and a long tail and--"

Lyra chuckled. "That sounds like an elephant. They're not dangerous, but why would a bunch of ponies be traveling with one?"

Trixie heard faint music drifting from the direction that Carrot Top had arrived from. "Is… is that a full band?"

Lyra nodded. "Yep."

"Who would just show up in town with an elephant and a full band?" mused Trixie.

"Who can even afford that?" wondered Carrot Top. "Shipping an elephant and a band here?"

Trixie paused. "Oh. Uh oh."

"What?"

"I know who this is."

Cheerilee paused in her efforts to corral some of the less ruly foals. "Are they dangerous?"

"Only in the sense that we might all be annoyed to death." Trixie sighed. "I had a feeling she'd be showing up soon anyway."

"Should we do something?" asked Carrot Top.

"Grin and bear it?"

The ground began to vibrate slightly, and then the entourage came into view around a bend. The ponies stared as the band, dancers, and ponies bearing litters of treasure marched around a corner and headed towards the main square. In the center of the group was indeed an elephant, with a covered structure mounted on the top. In the front of the processions was a pink-and-white pony, her cutie mark a baseball and a screw, who was waving a baton and leading the group.

The dancers began to sing.

"Make way, for the Vicereine!"

The treasure bearers chimed in.

"Say hey, to the Vicereine!"

The leader began to wave her baton around. She bounced into the air, clicked her hooves, and jumped into the rapidly gathering crowd.

"Hey! Clear the way to the market square!

Hey you! Let us through! She's a breath of fresh air!

Oh come be the first on your block to meet my pal!"

A drum and a bell set popped into existence in front of her. She began to play them with joyful abandon.

"Make way! Here she comes!

Ring bells! Bang the drums!

Oh, you're gonna love this gal!"

Her horn glowed, and the curtains on the elephant pulled themselves back. Inside was an aged pegasus, with a purple coat and a mane that had faded to white. She smiled at the crowd and waved from atop the elephant.

"She looks completely ridiculous," murmured Carrot Top.

Trixie nodded. "When you have that much money, nopony'll tell you when you look like a fool."

"Good thing you don't have that problem!" chirped Lyra.

Cheerilee, Carrot Top, and the foals all laughed. Trixie blushed.

Meanwhile, the pink pony was singing again.

"Vicereine, glorious she, Vicereine Puissance!

Genuflect, show some respect, down on one knee!" She struck her baton out and tripped a passing Rarity and Colgate, knocking them into a bow.

"Now try your best to stay calm!

Brush up your formal 'salaam!'

And come and meet her spectacular coterie!"

"Is this a party?" Trixie turned to see Pinkie Pie bouncing out of the Sugar Cube Corner. "Wait for me!"

The pink pony appeared next to Pinkie, grinning and spinning her baton.

"Vicereine, mighty is she, Vicereine Puissance!

She won't fear, even the bear-

ers of Harmony!"

Trixie rolled her eyes. "Really? Really?"

"I don't fear her either," said Lyra. "Laugh at, maybe."

The pink pony jumped into the air and seemed to suspend herself. Trixie wondered if she was related to Pinkie Pie. "She faced the high-soaring hoards!" She vanished and reappeared in the back of the crowd. "A dozen griffin warlords!" And then she was right next to Trixie, causing the showmare to jump in fright. "Who sent those goons to their lords? The Vicereine!"

"She's got seventy-five golden camels." "Don't they look lovely, everypony?"

"And for peacocks, she's got fifty-three!" "Yes, they're remarkable!"

The pink pony was suddenly on top of the elephant's nose, balanced on one hoof. "When it comes to exotic-type mammals

Such a fabulous zoo

I'm telling you

It's a world-class menagerie!"

Puissance waved at the crowd, who were smiling and clapping along with the music -- except for Pinkie, who seemed to be chasing the leader around and trying to get her baton so she could lead the song.

"Can we say hi?" asked Apple Bloom. "She looks really funny!"

"Is she a clown?" asked Snails.

"A really rich clown?" added Diamond Tiara.

"You could say that," said Trixie, as Cheerilee shook her head. "But don't underestimate her. She's brilliant when she wants to be."

The pink pony did a spiraling cartwheel into the air, where she stuck. "Vicereine, wealthy is she, Vicereine Puissance!"

The flower trio chimed in. "So fancy!"

Trixie had to choke back laughter. Some of the foals weren't so inclined, and began giggling.

"She's got treasure, far beyond measure, wait 'till you see!

Rarity chimed in, "Glamorous!"

More bits than Canterlot bank! "Marvellous!"

And let's be perfectly frank: "Stupendous!"

"She's got more jewels than Luna's treasury!"

Pinkie Pie had finally caught up with the pink pony and tackled the baton away from her, narrowly avoiding being smushed by the elephant's feet as she did so. "Ooh, ooh, I want to do the next verse! I want to do it!"

The pony shrugged and conjured up a script, then tossed it to Pinkie. "No problem!"

"YAY!" Pinkie grinned.

"Uh oh," said Trixie.

Pinkie began to sing.

"She's got sixty fine tapiran monkeys!"

The foals jumped up as one. "We want the monkeys! Let's see the monkeys!"

Cheerilee began trying to herd the ponies back to the schoolhouse, which was fortunately relatively close. "Come on, class. We have a lesson to return too."

"And to see them there's just a small fee!" "So generous! So generous!"

Pinkie grinned and jumped up into the air. The other pink pony followed, until the two were somersaulting over each other in the sky in a manner that Trixie didn't quite understand. Meanwhile, the dancers were swirling around beneath them.

"She's got serfs! She's got servants, and flunkies!" "Yes, we do

Bow to that girl

Love serving her

We're just lousy with loyalty!

Cheerilee, with Lyra, Trixie, and Carrot Top helping, managed to corral the foals into the schoolyard. Cheerilee put on a big smile. "Alright, class. Let's get inside, and--"

"To the Vicereine!" The pink and white pony had taken over again. "The Vicereine!"

The entourage wheeled around and began bearing down on Trixie's house.

"Oh no," said Trixie. She took off at a run, trying her best to weave through the crowd. She almost made it… but then Pinkie Pie jumped in front of her in some acrobatic endeavor, and the two tripped and rolled over.

"Hey!" cried out Trixie as the elephant began to trample her lawn. Its trunk waved around and knocked into her front window, which broke and fell to the ground. None of the dancers or singers seemed to mind. The pink pony, in fact, had appeared atop the elephant and opened her mouth for one last verse.

"Vicereine! Fabulous she! Vicereine Puissance!" She swooped down the elephant's nose, summersaulted, and landed right in front of Trixie. "Heard your rep here was a sight lovely to see!" She gestured at the showmare.

"Huh?" asked Trixie..

"And that, good ponies, is why--

She got decked out and dropped by--

With buckets of rubies, pallets of gold

Bits and jangles, and riches untold!

With her movers and shakers, her cooks and bakers,

Her pega-corns singing in key!

Make way for the Vicereine!"

Puissance stood as the pink pony finished and bowed. "Hello, Ponyville!" she called out in an imperious tone. "I am so pleased to be here."

Trixie stared at the mare and gulped. What does she want now?

Attack of the Giant Muffin

Dinky looked at the golden cup as if it was an ancient, mystical totem. "Do you want to try it?" she asked.

"Sure!" chirped Sweetie Belle. "She said 'anything,' right?"

Dinky nodded slowly. "I'm just worried we'll get in trouble..."

"My sister says it's rude to not take advantage of hospitality," said Sweetie Belle. She tried to hop up onto the large chair, catching it with her forelegs and eventually pulling her dangling legs up behind her. "Besides, we'll probably never be back here. We should make the most of it!"

Dinky smiled and hopped up after Sweetie Belle. She also struggled with the large chair, but Sweetie Belle helped pull her up. From there, they made their way to the table and the golden cup. Dinky reverently picked it up and pressed her face against it, but then she paused. "Hmm..."

The old mare with the purple coat and faded yellow hair, the one that her Momma and Trixie and Rarity had bowed down to and called 'vicereine,' had said that her mansion had something called 'room service'. This meant that, if Dinky or Sweetie or anypony else spoke into the cup and asked for food, somepony would cook it and bring it to them. Dinky had asked what kind of food, and the old mare had said that any kind would be fine. "If you want a cherimoya, or a fresh white truffle salad, or a dragonfruit grown with actual dragon magic, or any other type of food in Equestria, you need only ask. You're my guest." And she had smiled when she'd said it, although Dinky had thought her smile had looked weird. Dinky hadn't felt like an 'honored guest,' which was what the mare had called all the Ponyville ponies who were staying with her, but instead like some kind of pet or toy that was being pampered for its owner's amusement.

Sweetie Belle poked Dinky's nose. "Come on! Ask for something!"

"I'm thinking!" She tapped the cup like the mare had showed her. "Hello?"

"This is the kitchen," came the response.

Dinky wasn't sure how the cup system worked. It was based on tin-can telephones, like the ones that she and Scootaloo played with sometimes, but they ran all over the mansion and they had much better sound than the tin cans. Nonetheless, that probably wasn't important at the moment. "Um, my friend and I are hungry! Can we have a snack?"

"What would you like?"

Dinky paused again.

Sweetie Belle said, "Just ask for the one food you always wanted to try! Or your favorite food!"

"Uh... can we have a really big muffin, please?"

If the pony at the other end of the line was surprised by the request, she didn't say anything. "What flavor of muffin, miss?"

"Banana nut." And, because the situation seemed to call for something more dramatic than a regular old muffin that she could get from the Sugar Cube Corner, she added, "And can it be really, really big? Like, bigger than us?"

"How big are you?"

Dinky hadn't been expecting that, but Sweetie Belle jumped in. "We're foal sized!" she chirped. "And my horn's a little big for my age, just so you know."

Dinky frowned. "It is not."

"It is too!"

"Will there be anything else?" asked the other pony.

"Vanilla icing on top!" added Sweetie Belle.

"And chocolate sprinkles!" said Dinky. "And, and..."

"A really big cherry!" finished Sweetie Belle.

"Very good," said the pony at the other end.

Dinky wasn't sure what to do next, but Sweetie took the cup. "Thank you. Goodbye!" She put the cup down and grinned. "Oh wow! I'm so excited!" Her voice began to squeak. "We're going to have the biggest muffin in history!"

"We should have gotten two," realized Dinky. "I bet Momma would want one."

"We can order another," said Sweetie Belle. "But the adults won't be back for a while. Let's try ours first, make sure it's good."

That made sense to Dinky. "Okay!"

Fifteen minutes later, the foals were looking at the games that the vicereine had told them were in the cabinets.

"This one looks even older!" Sweetie Belle looked at the box with the ancient, stylized text. "Wow!"

Dinky nodded. The pictures on the box showed pieces wearing funny outfits. "I wonder when it's from."

"I saw clothes like those in one of my sister's books, but it was about ancient fashions. Like, three hundred years ago fashions!"

"So this game was made then?" Dinky blinked. "But it doesn't look opened. She never played it."

"Maybe she just likes to look at the box?"

"But it's in the dark cabinet, and--"

Further investigations of this nature were cut off by a sharp knock on the door. The two foals looked at each other, realized what this meant, and tumbled off the chair in their efforts to race to the door.

"I win!" said Sweetie Belle, bonking into the door horn-first. She quickly opened it. "Hi!"

The unicorn was dressed in a sharp black-and-white butler uniform. He had a cart behind him, and on it was...

The largest muffin imaginable.

Dinky's eyes widened. The muffin was as wide as the door, and almost as tall. It was easily bigger than Sweetie Belle and her combined. It had a magnificent golden-brown color, with the scent of bananas and fresh nuts wafting from it and filling the room. The icing on top looked so delicious that Dinky wanted to climb up one of the bookshelves and jump into it. The sprinkles were as numerous as sand on a beech. Even the cherry on top was bigger and looked better -- redder, sweeter, fresher -- than normal.

"That looks great!"

Sweetie Belle was more blunt. "YAY!"

The butler wheeled the muffin inside, set it down with telekinesis, bowed, and left. Sweetie and Dinky could only stare at the big, beautiful muffin.

"Well," said Dinky, "We should taste it!"

They couldn't quite get up to the frosting, since it towered above them, so they began at the base. Dinky realized within a few bites how incredible the find was. "This is fantastic!"

"My sister says that the vicereine has the finest ingredients money can by!" Sweetie Belle licked her lips. "I think she's right!"

They continued to eagerly eat through the base of the muffin, which slowly began to tilt over.

Dinky realized their predicament a few seconds before Sweetie Belle. "Uh oh."

Sweetie Belle looked up just before the largest dessert imaginable collapsed on top of her.

"I'm just worried for you," said Trixie.

"Darling, please. I can take care of myself." Rarity was practically hovering, so giddy was she. "And besides, this is the greatest opportunity I could ever have."

"But the fee--"

"Is incredible!" Rarity's eyes shone. "A hundred thousand bit commission base, and another hundred thousand if she likes the result! Plus, I'll become Vicereine Puissance's preferred clothier! Do you have any idea what that means?"

Ditzy smiled. "It means that you'll be able to accomplish your dreams."

"The Vicereine meets with ambassadors, foreign princes and generals, not to mention Luna. My clothes would be seen by emperors and princesses! Not to mention that fashion in this province -- Equestria's richest -- and at least three major cities follows the Vicereine; I'd become a household name! Add in the other nobles who follow her, and she said she could get me shops in Manehattan, Los Pegasus, Canterlot..." Rarity smiled dreamily. "In a year, I could be the pre-eminent clothier in Equestria. Not 'up and coming,' not 'one of the best.' The first and greatest."

"Rarity, she's manipulating you! She knows what you want, and she's offering it to you so that you do something for her!"

"That's business. She told me not to tell anypony what I'm working on, and darling, I can't break a client's confidentiality--"

"Rarity, nothing you sell is worth a fraction of what she's paying you. There's obviously something wrong here!"

Ditzy sighed. She liked Trixie, and she liked Rarity (more or less), but the two... didn't get along well. "Trixie, I'm sure that Rarity will be able to handle her own business affairs... and Rarity, I'm sure you know that you can come to us if you have any problems. We're not afraid of the Vicereine."

They had reached the room where they'd left the foals. Ditzy began to open the door. "In fact, Rarity, I--"

She stopped, staring. So did the other two adults.

A large muffin was on its side in the room. This by itself would be unusual, but it seemed to be wiggling, like something was stuck inside and struggling to get out.

Ditzy cautiously approached it. "Is this a present?"

The muffin wiggled harder, and then a little, purple nose poked out from the top side. A few moments later, Dinky pushed her horn and the rest of her head through. She gasped for air. "Sweetie Belle, we're close!"

A few seconds later, Sweetie Belle also broke through. "Made it!" She sighed with relief. "We beat the muffin! Yay!"

Ditzy smiled as Dinky turned to focus on her. "Enjoying yourself, muffin?"

"Uh huh! Did you have a good day?"

"It was pretty good," said Ditzy. "I missed you, of course."

Dinky smiled. "Well, um... we could have dinner together, but..."

Ditzy thought about the length of the path Dinky had apparently needed to chew to escape from the giant muffin. She wouldn't have an appetite. Still, she could hardly blame her daughter for trying out a few luxuries now that she had the chance. "How about instead I read you a long story before bed tonight?"

"Okay!"

Rarity was staring blankly. "Why is there a huge muffin on the floor?"

Ditzy smiled and began cutting large pieces for herself, Rarity, and Trixie. "Does it matter?"

"Hey," Trixie protested, weakly. "I wasn't done arguing."

"You are now," instructed Ditzy. "It's muffin time. You can't argue when you're eating a muffin."

Trixie seemed about to object, but apparently the muffin was too delicious, because she just began eating it instead. "You win this round," she said, around a mouth full of dessert.

Ditzy smiled warmly as Dinky ran to give her a hug.

Fisher in Stalliongrad

The House of Fisher, rulers of the Duchy of Rushia since time immemorial was illustrious, rich, and powerful. But no Fisher heir ever began their career that way. The House of Fisher, after all, had no need of inept heirs who were only good at spending the wealth and squandering the power their forefathers had accrued. In order to gain access to the resources, the titles, and the seat of the House of Fisher, every Fisher son and daughter had to prove their abilities without any of them. And Bobbing Fisher had been no exception.

He’d been eager when it came time to take part in the trials, when his father, Duke Sailing Fisher, had finally summoned him to his office in his country estate and told him to prepare. It was time, he said, for Fisher to prove himself – to go forth into Rushia with nothing but the clothes on his back and a day’s wages in his saddlebags, and to show what he could do. There were several small towns and villages struggling, each one in dire need of proper leadership – a mayor, a council member, a politically astute businesspony – and Bobbing Fisher’s father had wanted to know which one his son would choose. Whichever it was, Fisher would be given the most minor of government positions in that town, and expected to turn them around within four years.

“None of those,” Fisher had said. “I want to go to Stalliongrad.”

Stalliongrad? Fisher’s father had raised an eyebrow. Stalliongrad was already prosperous. Its factories supplied the Equestrian government with everything from ink and paper to spears and armor. It was one of the strongest cities in Rushia, and for that matter, the nation. How could Fisher hope to improve what was already near the top?

“I can do more,” Fisher had responded, “Than haranguing farmers into saving up some money and buying modern plows, and forcing out a corrupt council member or two. I can take the greatest industrial powerhouse in Equestria and can make it better. I can serve the nation to a degree that this family hasn’t seen in centuries. Let me prove it.”

His father had.

And so Fisher had gone to Stalliongrad, as a clerk to a clerk to a clerk to the Undersecretary of Auxiliary Sanitation. He saw little ambition and less skill around him; sanitation in Stalliongrad worked so well that the clerks had little to do, and most of them spent their work hours playing cards and rolling dice. Fisher had shrugged off all offers of companionship. He found work to do, in his own department and others, and studied the city’s sanitation plans as if it was a graduate thesis project. By the end of three months, he had come up with a plan to renovate the city’s sewer system, water pipes, and street rubbish services that would reduce water consumption by twenty percent, pay for itself in two years and put to work the former employees of a factory that had just gone bankrupt. By the end of four months, he was in charge of the department.

Once he’d done all he could in Sanitation, Fisher got himself transferred to Civil Affairs, where he spent three months fighting with intransigent officials in a battle to rework the city’s ancient road network. Stalliongrad was old enough that the roads were crumbling in places, and the city’s sprawl had rendered some roads unnecessary and cried out for others that did not yet exist. Fisher came up with a set of plans to solve the problem. Nopony liked them. The repaving would require taxes, which offended some fiscally restrained clerks (nevermind that the increased efficiency would pay for itself within three years). The new roads would cut through parks and natural areas, which enraged the environmental set (nevermind that parks were of course superfluous in an industrial city). And, of course, one of the roads being decommissioned served an old factory produced little but had been around forever, largely because the owner of the factory had a seat on the Civil Affairs Board. It took three long months, months in which Fisher stayed up late learning arcane bureaucratic loopholes to cut out this or that official, or manipulating his opponents with some very boring cocktail parties and bar crawls, but in the end he got his way. The transportation network of Stalliongrad was redesigned. And when it was done, the city ran all the smoother.

Fisher was lauded, largely by the same bureaucrats who had spent three months fighting him. He had ignored their empty praises. He had done a good job and helped Stalliongrad to run more efficiently and produce more goods that Equestrians needed. That was the only reward he needed.

Fisher spent three months in Firefighting and Emergency Services, and two more working with the Weather Affairs Division. All of those he improved. He was brilliant, and tireless when it came to his affairs. He didn’t go out at night except when he needed to deal with a colleague; otherwise, he just stayed in his office, working away at whatever problem crossed his desk. Small wonder that he outperformed his peers, when they put in eight-hour days and he habitually worked for eighteen. He even let his one hobby, chess, slide while he focused on the work of his trials. No matter where he was sent, he naturally rose to a leadership position.

On his one year anniversary of beginning his trials, the Lord of Stalliongrad summoned Fisher and complimented him. He was a skilled worker, the Lord had said, and he could have any position in the city’s administration he wanted.

“I want to work in Industrial Affairs,” Fisher had said. “I want to be able to influence the factories and—“

The Lord had cut him off. “That is a very difficult office. The factories produce enough that they are almost entirely immune to governmental influence. Most ponies in that office find they can’t get anything done.”

“You let me worry about that.”

Fisher had been given an office in the Industrial Affairs department, but he hadn’t spent much time in it. Under aliases, he had begun to take jobs in factories around the city, learning how they worked and where they could improve. He would do any work the factories had; he served as a janitor, and a secretary, and a cinder sweeper, and as an assembler of some stupid toy that foals played with. He never stayed in one factory for very long, but his foreponies and bosses were always sorry to see him go; he worked so hard, and so well, that even the managers who habitually ignored their factory staff took an interest in him. But Fisher couldn’t stay, no matter what they offered him, for he had to learn all he could about the city’s factories. Only then could he figure out how he could best improve them, a problem which still eluded him. He could make minor suggestions, he knew, suggest ways to optimize how the employees worked, make lists of employees to promote and to fire, but that just seemed so… small. Surely there was more he could do.

He found his answer when he at last took the one job in Stalliongrad that he truly loved. Fisher spent a month working in a research think tank, an old building on the edge of the city that was funded by a perpetual government grant so old that nopony quite knew how to repeal it. Every day he would go in and spend time with research scientists, discussing the latest in magic theory, before going with a team to a collection of parts and trying to build something. They worked on machines that could turn apples to oranges, and plows that pushed themselves, and an automatic cider squeezer, and much more besides. Fisher did not understand why, but that sort of work filled him with a joy he rarely felt; when he went home each day, he felt a sense of loss, and an eagerness for the night to end and to return the next morning. He even earned his cutie mark at last, after casting a powerful spell on his monocle that allowed it to focus at such a distance that he could see a griffin before a griffin saw him. That night was the one and only time in Stalliongrad that he set his work aside for an evening and went out to party. And later that night, he knew what he had to do to improve Stalliongrad.

The next day, he approached the head of the research lab. “I have a way to make this lab the greatest company in the city.”

“I don’t care about business,” the stallion had said. “I want to do pure research without worrying about commercial applications.”

So Fisher had approached the Lord of Stalliongrad. “I can double the industrial output of this city, but there’s a pony in my way,” he said. And, as if by magic, the head of the research lab was transferred to a sister institution in Prance, and the new head of the lab was strangely agreeable to all of Fisher’s ideas.

The research lab began to develop spells to enhance industry equipment. Magic to allow conveyor belts to move themselves and never wear out, drill bits to drill for a year and remain sharp, spectacles to focus on details down to the tiniest resolution anypony would need, and more. Fisher knew exactly what the factories needed and where the bottlenecks were. He targeted research towards those areas, conducted much of it himself, and they proceeded to revolutionize Stalliongrad industry.

“The armor factory has increased production by an order of magnitude!” Fisher’s secretary told him. “They’ve cut manufacturing costs, and by selling in bulk they’ve cut shipping costs too – the Equestrian military is going to make them their sole supplier!”

“I heard,” a researcher told Fisher, “That the new enchanted fertilizer is doing better than the Trottingham stuff!”

“Worker accidents are down twenty percent since we sold Swords and Spears Inc. our new safety spells!” said the salespony Fisher had been forced to hire, since he could no longer keep up with the demand for orders by himself.

Fisher grew rich and powerful. In time, a few factories did fail – those who refused to deal with his enchanted equipment and could no longer keep up. He took them over, refurbished them, and began to run them. Soon he had his own industrial base to back up his research division.

In this way, the remaining three years of his trial passed very quickly. By the time he was within six months of completion, industrial production in the city was up by a staggering fifty percent. Fisher had told himself that he had done it, that he had passed the trials, to a far greater degree than any Fisher heir in centuries. He had proven himself. He could assume the Fisher title now with his head held high.

It was then that he learned of corruption in the armor factories.

Fisher kept a very close eye on his own products, but he couldn’t watch everything produced by other factories. It was the courage of a single secretary that alerted him to the problem; she had burst into his office, terrified out of her mind, and slammed a stack of reports onto his desk. The newest iteration of plate armor was not only as cheap as peanut brittle, but about as good at protecting ponies too, at least relating to a specific type of magical attack. Should a real war come, if the enemy was good with electric spells, the armor would be useless

“Well,” said the manager of the factory, “We’re not at war. That stuff is replaced every five years anyway. None of Equestria’s enemies wield lightning, right? Nopony’ll notice if nopony says anything.”

“But,” said the Minister of Industrial Safety, “It’s not really that dangerous. I mean, that armor passed every test in the factory. Do we need to start a panic over such an unlikely occurrence as an enemy army with electric spells?”

“I,” said the Undersecretary to the Lord of Stalliongrad, “Estimate that notifying the public or the army about this could cause a crisis of confidence. Stalliongrad would be badly affected. Why, a loss in profits of ten, maybe fifteen percent would easily be within the realm of possibility. It could undo everything you’ve done here, and more!”

“Look,” said the Lord of Stalliongrad. “I appreciate that you’re concerned, but I’m not going to risk my city on this. We’ll find a solution, and if we have to send out some specialists a couple weeks after the armor goes out to quietly adjust the spells, so be it. Besides, I myself own that factory under an alias, and I'm sure you wouldn't want to... annoy me. Leave it alone. I'll make it worth your while.” And he'd named a very considerable sum.

Fisher had gone back to his apartment and thought. He knew that telling ponies could ruin his own career, could hurt his family, could undo everything he had built up in the city. And he knew that Equestria needed its soldiers to have the best armor it could. At the very least, it had to know of flaws in the armor, so the generals could adjust their own battle plans. That was more important than his family, his career, or himself. Fishers served the nation, that lesson had been taught to him since birth, and he wouldn’t sacrifice the nation to serve his own career.

Fisher had taken a long pull of vodka to steel himself, and then had written to the Office of Quartermasters in the army, explaining the problem. He included the studies the secretary had given him, and a set of armor he had smuggled out of the factory. He boxed his papers and the armor, sent them off, and waited for the end. By day he worked on the armor, trying to find a way to fix the spells and rendered them resistant to electricity. By night he sat, and played chess against himself, and wondered what he would do next. If he failed his trials, if he was disinherited and thrown out into the world once again with nothing at all, what could he do? How could he serve the nation?

Did I do the right thing? he had wondered. To give up so much? Did I really do the right thing, or did I just want to be a martyr? Maybe I shouldn’t have told… maybe I should have just worked to solve the problem in secret, and had the armor fixed later. Maybe I made a mistake.

And then Bobbing Fisher learned that his actions had been noticed by, of all ponies, Luna Equestris Herself. And she had been so impressed, not just with the genius economic abilities, but also with the integrity, courage, and self-sacrifice of the heir to the House of Fisher, that the Duchy of Rushia was now an Archduchy. His father also contacted him, writing two sentences: “I am more proud of you than I have ever dreamed. Well done.”

Since that date, Bobbing Fisher had never deviated from a course of action that he thought was right. He had gained more factories, he had gained his father's seat and title, he had become the head of the Ministry of War -- during wartime, no less -- but through it all, he always stuck true to his own convictions. Wealth and power didn't change him, and he was as incorruptible as the day he revealed the corruption in Stalliongrad.

He had done what he thought was right when he learned that a group of managers were selling off factory assets to pad their own pockets. The ringleader was distantly related to Vicereine Puissance, a mare of unimaginable wealth and power, and so he thought himself untouchable. Fisher hadn’t cared. He had laid off all the corrupt workers and dared Puissance to object. She hadn’t. Production had improved, and the ponies of Equestria were the better for it.

He had done what he thought was right when he became aware of a paper peddling the lies that he was mistreating and underpaying his workers. He paid his workers precisely what they were worth, and a competent pony could do very well under Archduke Fisher. But he knew that, if he let the paper continue to peddle such lies, it could cause problems with his staff. He purchased the paper at three times its value to ensure that he could acquire it without difficulty, laid off the troublesome writers, and folded the offices and equipment into Fisher Printing. Production was not impacted, and the ponies of Equestria were the better for it.

And he had done what he thought was right when dealing with Fisher Hay & Oats. FHAO had never worked out; they just couldn’t get a foothold in the market. Fisher had wanted to shut the factory down, but he couldn’t; it would be a public relations disaster if he just closed it and fired everypony, and he was trying to get several important bills through the Court at that exact moment. The bills could be derailed if commoners united in some uninformed campaign against him. So Fisher quietly moved all the equipment out of the factory, and then snuck in one night, made sure it was empty, and burned it down. He didn’t need to fund the factory anymore, nopony ever blamed him for what was surely a freak accident, and he was able to pump the resources into some other factories that could truly use the boost. On the whole, within six months, his factories produced more than ever… and the ponies of Equestria were the better for it.