Chapter 1: What Was That Word Again?
I froze mid-bite, nearly dropping my golden fork. The Royal Dining Hall, lit up as ever with stained-glass brilliance, fell suddenly quiet.
“Pardon me, Dusty,” I said as evenly as I could, “but could you repeat that?”
“Valiant Shield has, um... resigned, Your Highness,” my dear Dusty Notes repeated insanely.
Nope, still didn’t make any sense the second time around. The Chief Sommelier winced and shifted uneasily next to me, nearly colliding with the Chocolatier. I dismissed them both with a wave of my hoof.
Dusty grinned weakly, despite herself; I could just make out a light sheen of flop-sweat covering her coat. I rolled the unfamiliar word around in my mouth: “Resigned. Reee-signnned,” I mumbled, in a most un-Princess way.
Hmmm. Didn’t that have something to do with chess?
“Uh, that’s right, Your Highness,” said Dusty. “So, if you wish, I can tell the Chamberlain to begin seeking a replacement...”
“Replacement!” I squawked... exclaimed, in a dignified manner. Oh, my. Entirely a non-chess situation, then.
“Do you mean to tell me,” I inquired, “that Valiant is, as it were, no longer with us?’
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Very well,” I replied. What a shame to lose such a gifted guardstallion! He always had the shiniest uniform buttons. And just last month I had presented him with a medal for something or other. “Quite a sad situation, Dusty. Please make the usual arrangements, will you?”
“Of course, Your Highness,” said Dusty, backing towards the door. “I believe his last day will be next Friday, should you wish to say a few words.”
I sighed, magically reaching for a very nice, and very strong, bottle of wine. “I suppose I should. And for his... how did you put it, last day?” That hardly seemed an appropriate term, but I passed over it. “Where is the service being held?”
Dusty tilted her head in confusion, bless her. “The, um, service? I think in the guards’ break room, Your Highness. I understand Major Hardnose has authorized a fifteen-minute extension to the usual lunch break.”
“Well!” I said, shaking my head. “That hardly seems an appropriate venue to say goodbye to such a talented comrade! Who was even given the Medal Of... er, a medal in my service. Anyway, I don’t think the casket would even fit through the barracks door.”
She looked stricken. “Casket? Oh, no, Princess! I’m sorry, I didn’t... Valiant isn’t dead, Your Highness.”
The wine was helping, but I desperately needed a nougat.
“My dear Dusty,” I sighed, waving my hoof to recall the Chocolatier. “You simply aren’t making any sense.”
“He actually left!” I whi... remarked, getting up a good head of steam. “To sell insurance, of all things! A trained guardstallion!”
Luna snorted, either in frustration or amusement, but didn’t rise to it. She was wearing her ridiculous moonstone horseshoes again, I noticed. The ones I had very clearly, and frequently, told her to chuck in the moat. They clicked tackily on the marble floor as we headed for the throne room.
“Can you believe it?” I needled some more. “With a sword-and-shield-under-a-crown cutie mark! I mean, who would sit across a desk from such a pony and actually buy...”
”Enough!” thundered Luna, rattling the hallway-paintings dangerously. “You have sown the seeds during Our absence. We have already explained thy tragic mistake of abolishing serfdom. This is but the inevitable outcome.”
“Let’s not reopen that debate,” I grumbled. A dust-gray pony with a pan and brush attacked the carpet as we passed, being careful to avoid eye contact.
“Still,” continued Luna slightly more quietly, “If it makes you feel any better, We have had nearly the same experience, although the offender is now suitably imprisoned in the dungeons.”
I perked up. “You’ve had a... resignation?”
“Of course not,” she said, glaring back at me. “Nopony would dare shirk their duties in the presence of the Lunar Throne. Normally, Our serenity is eternal. But an agitator was apprehended in the market very near to Our courtyard, just last week, and upset the apple cart.”
“By doing what?”
Luna stopped, looking at me with incomprehension. “By flipping it, We suppose? We did not inquire as to the particulars.”
Ah.
She snorted. “Have you been partaking in those extended baths again? We keep telling you the steam affects brainpower. Ponies these days bathe much too often.”
I shook my head in a vain attempt to clear it. The pan-and-brush pony hurried off, leaving dust-bunnies in her wake. We resumed walking.
“I mean,” I clarified, “what exactly was the object of her agitation?”
“Supposed ‘better treatment’ for farming apprentices,” she spat. “Evidently, this wayward mare, Velvet something, was demanding payment for them.”
“Pay them?” I repeated, incredulously. I was aware that master farmers did earn a modest amount of bits, in order to pay for seed and fences and barns or whatever. But apprentices? The very idea was insane... they didn’t even have experience! Clearly this was starting to get out of control.
At long last we disco-moonstoned our way into the throne room. The usual crowd of petitioners had gathered, instinctively huddling near the exit. Luna’s assistant Radish Moondrop was there too, looking apprehensive. No, not apprehensive... what was that other expression mortal ponies had?
Terrified, that must be it. Of course, Radish was a nervous sort of pony, not above chewing on his own horseshoes when things got complicated.
“Um, Princess... that is, Princesses...” he began.
“Not now, child!” barked Luna, turning back to me. “Behold, dear sister, as We decorate a real guardstallion for gallantry! One who helped fight off the changeling menace, while Our royal person was still tragically trapped in the dream realm and unable to assist.”
“Trapped in the...?”
“THAT IS WHAT WE SAID!”
Radish tried again, limply lifting a hoof and waving it about. “Your Highness...”
Luna silenced him with a glare, and rounded on me once more, lifting an eyebrow. “In any case,” she continued, “We believe Shadow Wing is known to the Solar Throne as well.”
“Ah yes,” I mused, remembering the nice bat-pony stallion who used to work in the kitchens. “Cupcake Sprinkles, you mean?”
Luna gritted her teeth, rather harder than was necessary. ”Shadow Wing,” she hissed. “While on duty, at least. An appropriate name for a fearsome warrior!”
I rolled my eyes. “Really, Luna, I keep telling you there’s nothing fearsome about your guard. They’re more adorable than terrifying.”
“They are guardians of the night! Ever vigilant! On silent wings with lamplike eyes!”
“Yes,” I replied, “but try watching one eat a bowl of fruit sometime.”
She had no answer to that. Luna huffed and looked down at Radish, as if just remembering he was there. “Pray speak, child, and stop stalling! Where is Shadow Wing?”
“He’s left the guard, Your Highness.”
”WHAT???” erupted Luna. I instinctively steadied the artwork, but there was nothing to be done about the windows; they bulged and rattled under the auditory onslaught.
“Another resignation,” squeaked Radish. “He let us know in person, at least, which I think was polite...”
”POLITE? HE HATH ABANDONED US! ALL HIS LANDS SHALL BE FORFEIT!”
“I believe he rents, Your Highness, what with the present mortgage rates. A studio apartment on the south side.”
”THEN ALL HIS DESCENDENTS SHALL BE BANISHED! EVEN UNTO SEVEN GENERATIONS!”
“I do recall that he and his wife chose not to have foals, Your Highness. Again, the expense...”
”WELL THEN!” finished Luna, stomping a hoof so hard the marble floor cracked. ”THROW HIS BELONGINGS OUT INTO THE STREET!”
“Yes, Your Highness,” said Radish, clearly relieved to have found a way out. “At once. I believe he has a beanbag chair and an amusingly-shaped lamp we can throw in the gutter.”
”LET THIS BE A WARNING!” roared Luna to the crowd of petitioners, who promptly fled.
“Luna,” I started, but she turned around and stalked towards the tower door.
“Fie! Fie!” she sniffed, tossing her head. “And farewell for this evening, sister! We must ruminate. You can deal with these insane so-called ponies for now.”
On her way out the tower door slammed; the stained glass of the Throne Room rattled one final time, then gave up the ghost and fell apart into a million shining fragments.
I pinched the bridge of my nose with an elegantly-manicured hoof, shut my eyes, and practiced my breathing exercises for a moment. Windows could be fixed! Nothing to worry about. It would fall on the taxpayer, too, so really it was even cheaper than having them cleaned. And so what if a few wayward ponies at the Palace made a mistake and... what was the word again... resigned? There are a few lunatics in each generation, as my father used to say. Although not in front of Luna.
When I opened my eyes, Radish was sitting before me. Ugh, magnificent.
“All will be well, my little pony.” I forced myself to smile down at him. “I will write to the Chief Economist, and even mention it to Twilight during our next meeting. Two ponies do not make a pattern, but it will still make for an interesting equestrological paper. Cutie mark defectors! What a rare and fascinating topic, don’t you think?”
Radish didn’t reply. I noticed a pegasus mare with a crooked set of saddlebags make her way back out through the sparkling glass wreckage.
Ugh. Magnificent-er.
Wordlessly he offered me the scroll, bearing the imprint of the Royal Mail. My heart sank as I recognized the horrifically expensive imprint of the Super-Express Absolutely-Urgent Direct-Pegasus Delivery Service. Along with the much less formal imprint of the Hastily-Scribbled PRINCESS CELESTIA!!! READ IMMEDIATELY!!! Service, in my dear Twilight’s manic hornwriting.
I unrolled it with trepidation.
Dear Princess Celestia!!!!! This is the most terrible terrible horrible friendship emergency I’ve ever had! Poor Spike has somehow become confused, and told me he doesn’t want to keep doing unpaid menial labor as my Number One Assistant! I thought he was my friend! Am I a bad friend??? All I told him was to hurry up washing the dishes and he thew a plate and got spaghetti all over my Most Punctual Student prize and said he didn’t want to do the dishes anymore and then he left and Owlowiscious went with him and the dishes are all dirty and how in Equestria am I supposed to do my own dishes I don’t even know where the soap is and...
There seemed little point in reading further. I looked grimly down at Radish.
“Fetch the Supreme Council. And get that agitator Velvet-what’s-her-name out of the dungeons to join us. She may prove useful.”
