The Prince's Predicament

As Shining walked back into the throne room, Cadance looked up from her conversation with the chef. "Make it happen," she said, glancing back at him with a stone face before returning her attention to her husband. "Hi, Shiny! How was your day?"

"It was alright," he answered back as the chef walked past him. "What was all that about?"

"Oh, just a minor error in the kitchen," she waved. "Nothing to worry about. Just something that wasn't quite right that needed to be corrected. Don't trouble yourself with it, Shiny, the problem's been solved!"

Shining nodded and sat down next to his wife, taking her hoof. "So, there's somewhere I need to be the day after tomorrow," he said. "Some ponies I need to talk to."

"To whom do you need to speak? I can have them brought here now."

Shining shook his head. "It's a surprise. For you. Very hush-hush. I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise, I'm just tell in you that I won't be around that day, as I usually am."

From there, they sat and chatted with each other until the chef came back to inform them that dinner was ready, a mere ten minutes after he had left. Whatever the issue was in the kitchen, it must not have been the most damaging of problems.

The issue was clearly some sort of delay, as when Shining sat down to eat, it was already beginning to turn cold. He contemplated sending it back to be reheated, but if there were problems in the kitchen, he'd rather they focus on fixing whatever it was.

"How is your food, dear?" asked Cadance.

"Not the best," answered Shining. "The potatoes have a bit of an odd taste to them. Parsnips are a little dry, too."

Cadance looked a little bit worried. She was trying to hide it, but Shining had been with his wife long enough to tell that something was wrong. "Are you going to finish it?"

Shining shook his head and pushed the plate away. "I thought I might, but with the damage to the kitchen, I think it'd be best if we went out. Somewhere nice, you know?"

Cadance went on the defensive, folding her hooves. "We're lucky enough to have one of the best chefs in Equestria, and you want to just go out?"

Shining sighed and pressed his hoof against his forehead. "I'm not saying he's a bad chef. Most days, it's good food. Today, something's off, and I'm inclined to believe it's because of whatever went wrong in the kitchen. I'm not saying he pales in comparison to the pretzel cart down the road, I'm saying we give him a day to put his kitchen back in order, so that my mashed potatoes and gravy don't have a sour flavour to them. I'm sure it'll all be fine tomorrow."

Cadance scowled at him. "Shining, I've been assured that there's nothing wrong with that food. I promise, it's good for you. You need to eat it."

Shining raised an eyebrow. "You're being oddly aggressive about this."

Cadance took a deep breath and summoned one of the serving staff. She pushed the plate into her hooves. "My husband is not pleased with his meal. Tell the chef to make him something better."

Shining stood up and took the plate back. "Look, I'll power through it, just... Let the chef know that I'm disappointed, and hopeful that whatever piece of equipment broke, he can either have it fixed or be able to work around it tomorrow. Hoping for the best, and let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

"Let him know if there's anything he can do to help?" sighed the chef. "I really feel bad for the guy, but there's nothing I can do."

"So you know what's wrong with his meal?"

"The princess had me mix his medication into his potatoes. I had to grind it down into a powder, first. That's probably what he's tasting."

"I didn't even know he was sick," shrugged the server. "He looked fine to me."

The chef sighed. "I don't even think he knows. Cadance told me not to tell him. And now I'm telling you the same." he shook his head. "This would be a lot easier on me, and my reputation if he just swallowed the pill before dinner, or if it needed to be ground down and mixed with food, that he could know it was there, and blame the pharmacist for the awful taste. I could end up ruined because of this little bout of secret-keeping."

"I don't think you'll be ruined..."

"Ruined! Because if I keep serving him stuff that tastes bad, then the two obvious answers are that I'm a bad chef, or the prince has terrible taste. I'm not about to shovel shit all over the royal seal, so it's my skill that must be tarnished!"

"He did try to blame it on faulty equipment," offered the server, rubbing the chef's shoulder. "He doesn't think you're a bad cook."

"A bad cook... A bad cook blames his tools. A good cook makes sure all of his equipment works, and if it's busted, he finds a workaround. If the frier breaks down, a bad cook will eighty-six every fried item on the menu. A good cook will put oil in a pot over the stove and light it up to make a smaller, slower frier, and tell the waitstaff to alert the guests that there's going to be a wait on all fried items, encouraging other items to help supplement the dining room. If I blame my equipment, would it not be easier to just mash the potatoes with a fork? How fucking hard is it to make fucking mashed potatoes and gravy? Literally three ingredients for each! Children could make that dish work!"

"Yeah," sighed the server. "If it makes you feel any better, I can't hard-boil an egg."

"That doesn't make me feel better," he grumbled. "But it would make me feel better to teach you how. At least then, my talents aren't being completely wasted. Come on, grab a saucepan, an egg, and some water."