The Crystal Empire was a sight to behold.
Giant crystals formed spires, seemingly jutting out from the ground like a spearhead through a rotten wooden shield. If, of course, the spearhead was a house for ponies to live in.
And the ponies! Small, cute creatures as sapient as we are, possibly more so, seeing as they live a lot more peacefully, or maybe less, seeing as they live a lot more peacefully. Defining features such as wings or horns jutting out as creatures told in myths, with the featureless ones clearly posing as the working class, if their number was of any indication.
But that's clearly not the case for The Crystal Empire, as everypony equally lacks extra appendages and differentiated themselves from those back in Equestria with glimmering coats, shining like crystal and gave those around them a quick notification of their superior visages like an unwanted app inside your phone, or a malware in your PC's browser.
Nevertheless, the princess of the land, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, had told me that everypony here is equal. Some ponies are just more equal than others, she didn't say but clearly implied. Maybe. Perhaps. Possibly. Mayhaps. Perchance. Dunno.
Oh, who am I kidding? I didn't sign that delegation contract to think about politics, I did that to have a vacation! Political ignorance! Ray Bradbury! Not Orwell, though. He read too much of my accidental book.
Are you sure? I thought he only skimmed through it.
He skimmed through it countless times only to quote them during lunch break. It made him look dumb. The ponies never read my book, however, and so I was able to enjoy my vacation without anyone getting upset about what I wrote!
But, as it turned out, political discussions were inevitable, especially if you're sitting with family.
"I'm telling you, Shining, it's not that simple."
"But if you don't solve our food shortage soon, we're going to import them anyway!"
Even more so if said family was royalty.
His Royal Highness Prince Shining Armor of The Crystal Empire, captain of Equestria's Royal Guard and Grand General of the Crystal Army, angrily swallowed his breakfast before scowling at his wife. "Besides, we have enough in the royal treasury to import hay, apples, and a couple of vegetables for years!"
Her Royal Highness Princess Mi Amore Cadenza of The Crystal Empire, The Princess of Love and Indestructible Wombs, calmly put her fork down on her empty plate. "And there's the problem, honey. It will only last us for a few years. A decade at most. And that's if you want our people to eat only hay and a few vegetables, every day for that many years with apples as a luxury dessert."
Great. The argument was insufferable in that I knew exactly how to solve it, but that would mean a few minutes of not eating crystal berry pancakes.
Seriously, Nick?
Of course! Have you tried those berries? They're simply divine!
I know that. I mean, did you really know how to solve the problem?
What makes you think I don't? I'm Niccolo Machiavelli, Father of Modern Politics!
Elaborate, then.
. . . Anyway, at one moment, Prince Armor finished his breakfast and asked, "Wait, you're going to Yakyakistan? Why didn't you tell me?"
"I did," said the Princess. "Yesterday I told you I will be negotiating trade agreements with the Yaks for a week. You're kinda busy with Flurry at the moment, so it's possible that you weren't listening."
"But I don't understand how to rule the empire! What if I mess up?"
The Princess gave him a warm smile. "You're more than capable of ruling our empire, honey. You just need reassurance.
"And, in case you do mess up, Sir Machiavelli will be there to help you."
It was at that moment that my eyes shot up to meet Prince Armor's own. Those big blue eyes pleaded for help, for sanctuary in the midst of a losing battle against a thousand-year-long outdated bureaucracy and stubborn nobles who fought in a conflict of interest indefinitely. "You will?"
"Yes," I answered.
I thought you signed up for a vacation?
It was the shortest answer I could give him without needing to explain anything else. I hadn't finished my crystal berry pudding yet at the moment.
And so, assurances were given from the princess toward the prince, and she left the empire with a smile and a kiss of reassurance that the prince can, indeed, rule their subjects.
As soon as the royal cart left, however, he turned toward me with concerned eyes. "Sir, can I talk to you for a while?"
"Your wish is my command, Your Highness."
"Can you give me a brief lecture about how to rule the empire? Or maybe become my advisor until Princess Cadance returns?"
I was about to laugh and tell him how stupid it was to think politics can be reduced to a brief lesson before remembering that he was royalty. Thinking quickly, I grabbed a pink feather from the snow and gave it to him. "Take this feather."
He grabbed the feather in his telekinetic grip and raised an eyebrow. "This is my wife's feather."
"Imbued with my magic. You should refrain from using it, but if the time of doubt ever comes, council the feather."
"I thought humans can't do magic."
"Not in the bright sparkly way, no. It's another kind of magic, one that we ourselves haven't fully understood. But that's not the problem. You're more capable than you think you are, Prince Armor. You're a captain of the Royal Guard! Surely you can command a bigger, pickier, and less muscular battalion?"
"It's totally different!" He sighed. "Ordinary ponies don't give me the respect military ponies gave me. They only love my wife; they don't really listen to me other than wanting to please her."
"Then make them listen. You have an entire army that listens to you, don't you?"
He gave me a bewildered look. "But that's evil! Ponies will do what I say because they fear me, not because they love me!"
"It is better to be feared than loved if you cannot be both."
He opened his mouth with a scowl, then closed it back with a contemplative face. After a while, he looked back at me. "Alright, my wife trusts you, so I guess I should."
"Wonderful! Now, if you'll excuse me—"
"But . . ." he cut me, just as I was about to leave to a pool tournament I was already late for. "These ponies just came out from slavery. How can I keep them from overthrowing me because I act like the tyrant before?"
I sighed in defeat and took out the book from my robe. "Here, take this. It's a book I wrote about politics. Read carefully, and you'll understand the ways of ruling before sundown."
You just so happened to be bringing your book with you?
I was about to have you compare it to Orwell's 1984 to see how ridiculous his idea of a dystopia is.
I haven't read it before.
That's why I brought it. Here.
This is your book, Nick.
Wait, what? Then where's—
I think you gave Prince Armor the wrong book to consult. Also, that's the 8-ball.
Dammit, Chekov! You distracted me!
Unlimited Crystal Berry Pudding
“This is your fault, George.”
“Me?” George Orwell swiveled his head to his right, where Niccolo Machiavelli was standing casually atop a snowy mountain just outside the Crystal Empire.
“You wrote that book.”
“It was not supposed to be an instruction manual!”
From the mountaintop they were standing on, Orwell can see the Crystal Empire in all its glory. Spires of crystals jutted out from the ground like a spearhead through a rotten wooden shield, supporting large telescreens that shows Prince Shining Armor’s smiling face and the words ‘Big Brother is Watching You’.
“Your idea worked, at least,” said Machiavelli.
Orwell facepalmed. “That’s not a good thing, Nick. What did the princess think about this?”
“She thought nothing of this.”
“What? How?”
“She hasn’t seen this yet. We have approximately five minutes to undo this all before she arrives.”
“Alright, that’s doable. Let’s—”
A voice from behind them called out, “Nick! Princess! Early Arrival!”
Machiavelli turned around to find Ray Bradbury, running and panting heavily toward them. “Well, we’re doomed.”
“We can still run away,” suggested Orwell.
“No, can’t do,” said Bradbury between his breaths. “Saw princess come. Ran away. A clip-clop of hooves. Guards shouting. Princess kicked out from her own kingdom. Whoosh, bam! Cart nearly got me. Ran faster, found you two here.”
“Indeed, I did.”
Three heads snapped toward a pink alicorn princess, her face not so subtly showing the owners of said heads how their shoulders should consider a divorce with their necks.
“I can explain,” said Machiavelli calmly.
“No need to,” came another voice from behind. Swiveling their heads again, the three humans and one alicorn were greeted by Big Brother himself, along with his army of Thought Polices.
“Shining! What happened?”
“I fixed the government! Now, nopony will see me as your husband anymore. I am Big Brother, absolute ruler of the Crystal Empire!”
Princess Cadance landed softly to the snowy ground, her face of concern. She walked slowly toward his husband. “B-but, Shining! What about our people? Should they always live in fear that you will kill them just because of a mere thought? What happened to friendship? What happened to our goal to be loved by our people, and have them live in love, tolerance, and harmony? What happened to the Shining that babbles about Freedom of Love?”
“That was a delusional Shining Armor,” he answered. “For it is far better for a prince to be feared than to be loved.”
“You forgot about the second part, Your Highness.”
Every head swiveled about to whatever fourth direction you readers picture that hadn’t been the direction of arrival of the three previous characters, sans three that was tired from swiveling and simply turned around on their feet.
“It is better to be feared than to be loved if you cannot be both,” said Anton Chekhov. “You’re the captain of the guard; it is your duty to keep the ponies to have fear for the throne. But you shouldn’t be only feared, for you have your wife—The Princess of Love—to keep the ponies to love the throne. You two belong together like peanut butter and jelly, or me and your unlimited crystal berry pudding policy.”
“Yes,” called Machiavelli. “If you can be feared and loved, you are indestructible.”
And so the Crystal Empire thrives in love, tolerance, and an unlimited supply of Flurry Heart’s trademarked crystal berry pudding, which solved their previously mentioned food shortage and would later become their greatest exported goods aside from magical crystals.
And that, dear Twilight, is how Niccolo Machiavelli fixed the Crystal Empire’s governmental mess.
Also, that’s the 8-ball.
Dammit, Chekhov! You distracted me!
Author's Note
And that's how Anton Chekhov became a two-worlds-wide Billiards Champion.
