Chapter Seventeen: Apple Dumpling Surprise

Soup Du Jour was dreaming again. It was an old dream, a dream he'd had many times since he was a foal.

The kingdom of his dreams was a restaurant, the fanciest restaurant Equestria had ever seen. A restaurant so fancy that reservations had to be made centuries in advance. Ponies made reservations not for themselves, nor even for their children, but for their children's children's children. Only the fanciest and most noble families in Equestria were even considered for such an honor.

The menu at this restaurant was so fancy that the names of the dishes could not be uttered in any mortal tongue. The name was so fancy that only those chosen could hear it and comprehend that it was the name of a restaurant. Its food was so fancy that it could not even be consumed, for to do so would be like tearing asunder that which the gods had wrought.

And in his dream, Soup Du Jour was a waiter at this restaurant. Only he was not just any waiter. He was the Head Waiter.

But alas, every time he stood in the dining hall of this Most Fanciest of Restaurants, before he could even take one single customer's order, or their drink order, or even suggest an appetizer or something, Soup Du Jour would awaken. He would find himself alone, in his bed, in a world where he could never be a waiter, let alone the Head Waiter of a restaurant so fancy it could only exist in the Realm of Pure Form. And in those moments, Soup Du Jour would weep.

Even after the ascension of Black Snooty, Soup Du Jour still had this dream from time to time. However, when he awoke, he no longer had reason to weep. For he had, thanks to his great and glorious Queen, come as close to achieving his dream as anypony might hope while still entombed in his mortal coil.

The alarm bell beside his bed rang, and Soup Du Jour calmly switched it off. He rose, dressing himself in his waiterly tuxedo as he'd done every day for as long as he could remember. He stood before the mirror, waxing his pencil mustache, oiling his mane into place, and practing the eloquent jargon of his trade:

"Would Sir prefer soup or salad with his entree?"

"Is the creme brulee to Madame's satisfaction?"

"If I might make a suggestion, les foins a l'orange is exceptional tonight."

For most of his life, this morning ritual had been a sad farce: the tragic pantomime of a lonely poner, pining away for a life that could never be. However, since the Great and Glorious Queen Black Snooty had so graciously seen fit to secure him a table-waiting position at Le Brasserie de Le Coq Gigantesque in Canterlot, this tragic ritual had become a joyous one.

And so, as he made the final adjustments to his bow-tie, ready to set off for yet another wonderful day of waiting tables at a chic Canterlot brasserie, he spoke the last words of his ritual, the words that he had added but recently:

"Black Snooty is love," he whispered. "Black Snooty is life."

"This is today's delivery?"

"Eeyup."

The manager walked around to the back of the cart and gave the load of apples a cursory glance.

"Alright, looks good. Go ahead and unload."

The manager trotted back into the restaurant, and the big beefy red earth pony who was pulling the cart began to undo his harness.

"Quick!" whispered a small voice from the back of the apple cart. "Now's our chance!"

While the cart pony was still fussing with his harness, three fillies slipped quietly out from behind the barrels of apples in the back. One by one, they dropped to the cobbled pavement of the alley and scrambled quickly behind some stacked wooden crates.

"Where do we go from here?" whispered Sweetie Belle.

"Shh," hissed Apple Bloom. "Just sit tight for a minute."

"My butt's numb," muttered Scootaloo.

"Well, it won't get any less numb if you keep complainin' about it!" Apple Bloom admonished. "Now be quiet! If my brother catches us, he'll make us go back to Ponyville with him!"

The fillies stayed hidden behind the crates, while Big Macintosh unloaded the barrels of apples one by one and rolled them through the service entrance of the restaurant. When about a third of the barrels had been stowed away in the kitchen, he raised the back hatch of the cart and redid his harness. When the last clippity-clop of his hoofsies had faded off into the distance, the three fillies emerged from their hiding place.

"Well, we did it girls!" said Apple Bloom proudly. "We made it to Canterlot!"

"Yeah, but what now?" asked Scootaloo. "How are we supposed to find Pyx in a huge city like this?"

They looked around them, taking in for the first time the towering stone walls and parapets and spires rising up all around them.

"Well, let's try and figure it out," suggested Sweetie Belle. "Where are we right now?"

"Hmm, let's see..." Apple Bloom thought about it. "It's Friday, and Big Mac always delivers to the same restaurant on Fridays. Lemme see, what was that place called again...?"

"Le Coq Gigantesque?" suggested Scootaloo.

"Yeah, that's it!" cried Apple Bloom. "How'd you know?"

"It's painted on the wall next to the service door," said Scoot, pointing.

"Hey, I think I've heard of this place!" exclaimed Sweetie Belle.

"You have?"

"Yeah! This is the place Rarity is always talking about! I guess she always comes here whenever she's in Canterlot."

"Rarity likes Le Coq?" asked Apple Bloom.

"Oh, yeah," Sweetie Belle assured them. "She raves about Le Coq. Like, to the point where she won't shut up about it. It's always 'Le Coq this' and 'Le Coq that,' and 'oh, Sweetie Belle, you simply must try Le Coq when you get older!' If you listened to my sister, you'd think Le Coq was the tastiest thing in all Equestria!"

"Hmmm..." Apple Bloom stroked her chin thoughtfully, staring at Le Coq. "You know what? I'll bet this would be the perfect place to search for Pyx!"

"It would?" asked Scootaloo.

"Sure! I mean, think about it: Pyx is a Queen now, right?"

"Yeah..."

"And Queens like fancy stuff, right?"

"Hey, you're right..."

"So that means..."

"That means that if we just hide out at this restaurant, sooner or later Pyx will show up to eat here!"

"Then, when she shows up..." began Sweetie Belle.

"...we can hide in one of the dishes and wait for them to serve us to her!" finished Apple Bloom.

"This isn't even close to being the dumbest idea we've ever had!" said Scootaloo excitedly.

The three of them each raised a hoof.

"CUTIE MARK CRUSADER ENTREES!" they exclaimed in unison.

"And you say this restaurant is the best?" Black Snooty asked.

"Oh, absolutely, my Queen!" Evening Musk assured her. "I dine here all the time; or whenever I can get a table at least! It's the most chic and exclusive restaurant in all Canterlot!"

Black Snooty was skeptical, but she had to admit she was also intrigued. Besides, it had been ages since she'd had a night out. It might do her some good to get out of the castle.

"Well, here we are, your Majesty!" said Musk.

They drew up in front of an opulent structure, the words "Le Coq Gigantesque" glowing above the entrance in elegant neon letters. A velvet rope blocked off the entrance, with a rather haughty-looking unicorn standing guard next to it. A line of sharply-dressed ponies was stretched around the block.

Black Snooty and Evening Musk made their way to the front, much to the annoyance of the ponies standing in line.

"Good evening," said the unicorn at the velvet rope in a fancy accent. "Do Monsieur et Madame have a reservation?"

"Er, I'm afraid we don't, actually..." said Black Snooty.

"This is the Queen of Equestria, you dolt!" hissed Evening Musk.

The Maitre D frowned, looking at the two of them with a haughty expression.

"Yes, I can see," he said. "And we are pleased to welcome Her Majesty to our humble establishment. However, I regret to inform you that we are booked solid, and without a reservation..."

"I say!" exclaimed an unfamiliar voice. "Does Her Majesty Black Snooty enjoy Le Coq as well?"

Snooty and Musk turned to see an elegant pair of unicorns approaching them, also cutting past the entire line. Both of them had glimmering white coats; the stallion was blue-maned and wore a tuxedo and monocle, and his wife was lithe and beautiful, and had a long, luxurious pink mane.

"Oh, I beg your pardon," said the stallion. "We haven't been properly introduced. My name is Fancy Pants, and this is my wife, Fleur De Lis."

"Charmed," said the mare, bowing gracefully. Musk and Snooty returned the gesture.

"Do the two of you dine here often?" inquired Musk.

"Oh, we simply adore Le Coq!" exclaimed Fleur De Lis. "In fact my husband just loves it! All night and all day, he just raves about Le Coq!"

"You're one to talk, my dear," chortled Fancy Pants. He turned to them, smiling. "Why, my Fleur De Lis is so fond of Le Coq it's all I can do to pry her away from it. Every single night, she's just begging for Le Coq!"

"I think it's safe to say that both of us are just tremendous fans of Le Coq!" said Fleur De Lis. "Why, the only thing that brings me greater pleasure than Le Coq is jabbing commoners with a stick!"

"Well, I certainly hope you use a long stick," said Fancy Pants jovially. "I'd hate to think you might accidentally touch one of the commoners you were jabbing! You might end up catching some peasant illness that would keep you away from Le Coq for a week!"

They both laughed in an exaggerated, posh manner. Evening Musk and Black Snooty laughed too.

"Incidentally," said Black Snooty. "Do the two of you have a table reserved?"

"But of course we do. We would never attempt to dine here without a reserva--GAAAAAAK!"

Fancy Pants was suddenly levitated into the air, and his neck was snapped.

"I say, that was quite rude of you, your Majes--GAAAAAAAK!" cried Fleur De Lis, as the same thing happened to her.

Black Snooty tossed the two corpses into a passing apple cart. The beefy red cart pony gave her a dirty look but said nothing. She smiled pleasantly at the Maitre D, who bowed.

"If Madame et Monsieur would like to follow me," he said. "It appears that a table has just opened up."

Black Snooty appraised her surroundings. It seemed that Evening Musk had been right; this place really was quite fancy. It might have even been the fanciest bistro in all of Canterlot.

"This place really is quite fancy," she remarked.

"Oh, absolutely my Queen," agreed Musk. "It's the fanciest bistro in all of Canterlot!"

"I thought it was a brasserie?"

"Is there a difference?"

"Actually, I'm not sure."

They both laughed in an exaggerated, posh manner.

"Ah, your Majesty!" exclaimed a voice. "We are humbled that you would grace us with your presence at Le Coq Gigantesque! And, if you will permit me to be so bold, I wish to extend my eternal gratitude to your Majesty for recommending me for my current position!"

Black Snooty turned to face the waiter, a confused expression on her face.

"That's Soup Du Jour," whispered Evening Musk. "He's a member of the Order; your Majesty graciously allowed him to become a waiter at this restaurant."

"Ah, yes, of course," said Black Snooty. "Soup Du Jour."

The waiter bowed deeply.

"I am flattered that your Majesty would remember a lowly waiter such as I!"

Another waiter approached, wheeling a cart laden with covered dishes.

"Ah, thank you Pierre!" said Soup Du Jour. "And now, your Majesty, may I present your entree for this evening: sweet apple dumpling surprise!"

He placed a covered dish in front of her. However, before he was able to lift the lid, a commotion at a nearby table drew their attention.

"I say! Waiter!" a pony called out.

Soup Du Jour glanced over his shoulder, and then bowed to Snooty and Musk.

"If your Majesty will excuse me for just one moment." He turned his attention to the next table. "What seems to be the trouble, Monsieur?"

"Waiter," said the pony at the next table. "There's a filly in my soup!"

Sure enough, there was a little orange pegasus filly sitting in his bowl of soup.

"Hey, I've got a filly in my soup too!" another diner called out. And sure enough, there was a little white unicorn filly in his bowl.

Watching the curious spectacle out of the corner of her eye, Black Snooty levitated the cover off of the dish in front of her. On the plate, sitting on a bed of lettuce and garnished with carrots and sprouts, was a little yellow earth pony filly with a bright red mane. As soon as the cover was off, the filly spat out the apple that was in her mouth and waved to her.

"Hi, Pyx!" cried Apple Bloom.

However, before Snooty could respond, the table was seized in a magical aura and overturned. The filly cried out in surprise, tumbling head over hooves into the air.

"ASSASSIN!!" screamed Evening Musk at the top of his lungs. "EVERYPONY GET DOWN!!!"

"I still don't see why you had to spoil our dinner like that," remarked Black Snooty, tapping her hooves in annoyance.

They were back in the Great Hall of Canterlot Castle. Although the incident had forced them to shut down for the evening, Le Coq Gigantesque had been kind enough to provide them with some complimentary take-out platters. While Black Snooty had to admit that the food was quite delicious, eating it in here just wasn't the same.

Evening Musk bowed obsequiously.

"I apologize profusely, your Majesty," he said for probably the thousandth time that evening. "But your safety is paramount."

Black Snooty grunted, and took another bite of her souffle. If this food weren't so fancy and delicious, she probably would have snapped Evening Musk's neck by now. The food, however, really was quite fancy and quite delicious.

"So," she said between bites. "What did you do with those three fillies, anyway?"

Musk sighed.

"I did as your Majesty commanded," he said, unable to conceal the disappointment in his voice.

"You put them in the dungeon?"

"Yes, your Majesty."

"In the same cell as the other one?"

"Yes, your Majesty. They are in the same cell as Twilight Sparkle. Though I still don't understand why--"

"So they can keep each other company, of course. I'm not a monster."

"Yes, but I don't understand--"

"Then it's a good thing I don't pay you to understand. In fact, I don't think I'm paying you at all, am I?"

"Er, no, you're not. At least, not since the treasury ran out."

"Well, good. Then you have nothing to complain about."

"That's not exactly...well; never mind. It's just that, well, those fillies tried to assassinate you, my Queen--"

"Oh, give me a break! They were children!"

"They could be pygmy assassins disguised as children!"

"I highly doubt that."

"But it's possible! If you would only let me torture them--"

"No! No torture."

"Please? Just a little bit of torture?"

"No, not even a little."

"Oh, pooh!"

"Oh, pooh yourself, Musk!"

The Queen finished her souffle and moved on to the plum pudding. She watched Musk out of the corner of her eye. He was still pouting, and it irritated her.

"What are you sulking about now?" she demanded.

Musk opened his mouth to reply, then seemed to think better of it. Black Snooty frowned.

"Speak your mind, knave!" she commanded.

"Well, it's just that..." began Musk, unsure of how to proceed. "It's just that, some other members of the Order have been...talking, my Queen."

Black Snooty raised an eyebrow.

"Talking?"

"Yes."

"And what have they been talking about?"

Musk hesitated.

"They say that you have gone insane," he said. "That your methods are...unsound."

"And are my methods unsound?"

Musk took a deep breath.

"I don't see any method at all, your Majesty," he said finally. "In the past, the Great Queen Nightmare Moon was a terrible and beautiful ruler! You were a ruler to be feared!"

"And am I not feared?"

Musk swallowed.

"Well, er, yes, of course you are," he stammered. "It's just that these recent acts of mercy of yours are sending a bit of a mixed message..."

Black Snooty floated a fork over to Musk's plate and stole one of his potatoes.

"I don't need to explain my actions to you, or to that silly Order of yours," she said nonchalantly. "Last I checked, it was I who was Queen of Equestria. And I keep telling you, I have no idea who this Nightmare Moon is that everypony keeps bringing up."

She put the potato in her mouth, chewed, and swallowed.

"In any case, those prisoners are not to be harmed. The three fillies, and the other one, the one with that...thing. The Element of Whatever."

"The Element of Magic, my Queen."

"Yes, that. You are to leave them alone. If you want to torture somepony, we have plenty of other prisoners for you to choose from."

Musk sighed.

"Yes, but it's not the same," he complained.

"Well, I'm afraid that's just the way it is," said Black Snooty. "And I don't want to hear another word about it."

"Yes, my Queen," said Musk resignedly.

"Now then, let's move on to more important matters. Have you found me a new Finance Minister yet?"

"Ah yes," said Musk, brightening somewhat. "That is being handled as we speak."

Soup Du Jour stood before the mirror in his bedroom, staring glumly at his reflection. He could barely look himself in the eye.

"Doggy bags," he muttered. "We had to send them away with doggy bags!"

The scene at the restaurant had been bad enough, but to have disgraced himself in front of the Great Queen Black Snooty in such a way...

"I don't even deserve to wear this!" he cried in anguish, yanking off his bow tie and tossing it to the floor.

Suddenly, there came a knock at the door.

"Yes?" he said glumly as he pulled open the door. When he saw who it was, he straightened up.

"I come with a message from Her Majesty Black Snooty," said Night Soil.

Soup Du Jour hung his head in shame.

"I know that I have failed her!" he cried. "I am ready to accept whatever punishment she sees fit!"

Night Soil looked somewhat taken aback.

"Er, it's actually good news," he said.

Soup Du Jour looked up, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"So...her Majesty is not...displeased with me?"

"No, I don't think so."

Soup breathed a deep sigh of relief.

"That is wonderful news!" he cried. "So...does this mean I'm not going to be......fired?"

"What? Fired? No; nothing of the sort."

Soup breathed an even deeper sigh of relief.

"In fact," continued Night Soil, "You're actually getting a promotion."

"A promotion?"

Soup Du Jour's eyes lit up. It was almost too good to be true!

"What...position does her gracious Majesty have in mind?" he asked hesitantly. "Maitre D? Wine Steward? Perhaps even......Head Waiter...?"

Night Soil laughed and shook his head.

"Oh, no!" he said. "You have to think bigger, man! You're going all the way to the top!"

Soup Du Jour's eyes widened.

"You can't possibly mean," he whispered. "Assistant...Manager...?"

Night Soil smiled broadly and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Soup Du Jour," he said. "As of this moment, you are her Majesty's new Finance Minister."

All the elation drained out of Soup in an instant.

"...what?"

"Oh yes," said Night Soil. "You're on easy street from here on out! You'll never have to go back to that smelly old restaurant again!"

Soup Du Jour fell to his knees. Of all the cruel twists of fate, he could not have seen this one coming. His eyes filled with tears.

Night Soil laughed heartily.

"Speechless, eh? Well, don't worry; you've earned it my friend. Don't think we've forgotten about all the hard work you've been putting in for the Order! The Queen takes care of her loyal servants! No more waitering for you; no siree! You're on the gravy train now, bucko!"

He turned to go.

"Just be at the castle at 9 AM sharp!" he called out.

The door swung shut behind him. Soup du Jour barely heard it close.

"No," he whispered. "NO!"

He pounded his hooves into the floor, over and over and over.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!"