The Diarchal Advisor

Princess Celestia, Princess Luna, Diarchs of Equestria | Canterlot Castle's Dining Hall

"Sister..." Luna trails off, looking across the dining room table. In the quaint hours of the morning, a tired Luna idly eats the funny parts of the fruit on her plate, more distracted than usual. But, also far less tired than usual. Celestia had commented about just how refreshed she'd been looking, lately.

Luna would not explain why, deflecting it as... new pillows. New, definitely not Arnon shaped pillows.

A recently-risen Celestia, already glowing and into her second plate of food, like the living bio-reactor she is, glances up with a smile.
"Yes, Luna? Something the matter?"

"The Swanifying." Luna states simply.

"Ah, yes. It's coming up in just a week, isn't it? Do tell, aren't you excited?" Celestia smiles, tapping her hooves together. She enjoyed watching them trek their little way through the city quite a bit.

"Not with the event itself, sister. It's your... choice in appointing who is heading it." Luna amends, toying with her plate.

"Ah, yes. We'll be busy with Griffonian and Hypogriffian Ambassadors, unfortunately, so I've delegated the task to our dear Advisor, Arnon." Celestia hums, partaking in another healthy scoop of a sweet treat. Every one of her meals came with a sizable dose of sugar.

"Are you... certain he can handle it, Sister?" Luna asks softly.

"Hm? Of course. They're swans, Luna. It's hardly a difficult task." Celestia rebuffs cheerfully.

Luna disagreed heavily... she wasn't quite as fond as interacting with them as her sister was. They tended to hiss at her little too much. And the last time they tried to offload the task, it went quite interestingly. In a proper disaster to laugh at, way. Celestia wasn't entirely aware that the Swans only generally listened to her, and the Swanifying committee. Actually, they don't even listen... they take suggestions. Those outside of familiar faces... not in for a good time.
"...If you say so. We simply hope that Arnon is not... overwhelmed. He is still recovering, is he not?"

Celestia nods, sighing softly.
"I do wish he'd simply enjoy the time off I've tried to give him, but he's gotten so antsy, I fear if I don't give him something to do, he may very well simply... oh, chew his arm off or something."

"I have seen him pace the halls far more than he has in months. I believe one of the maids got upset that he actually wore down the tile." Luna snorts. She's also seen him join her in bed for naps as of late, but she wasn't about to say that aloud.

Celestia shares in the bemusement, before taking another bite of her meal.
"Mm--worry not, Luna. He has assured me he holds special qualifications for dealing with... as he put it, 'Spicy Fowl'."

That catches Luna by surprise. Does he really?
"Oh? Pray tell?"

Celestia taps her fork to her pursed lips, trying to recall.
"He said he was... oh, what was it... I believe it was, 'Canadian'?"

Luna blinks. What in Tartarus was a Canadian?

The Swanifying Committee | Canterlot Castle Throne Room

Fancy Pant's monocle squeaks as he cleans it. For the fourth time, before returning it to his eye.

Himself and his fellows of the Royal Swanifying Committee had arrived at the Castle to offer their assistance, as they did every year. When they'd heard a new face would be leading it, they were eager to offer their support -- mostly to subvert any upcoming hiccups that would inevitably occur from what seemed to happen every. Single. Time. A new face was put in charge.

Oh, they're just swans. And then, utter disaster borne of ill-preparedness and an uncouth, cocky demeanor.

Well, not quite so this time. This was the first year Fancy Pants had ever seen the swans lined up, wing to wing, stood at attention and actually staying still.

The culprit is the so-titled 'Royal Advisor', one of his limbs still in a sling. An odd, bipedal creature he'd seen now and again around the castle, having integrated himself quite easily into the royal life. He quietly marches along the length of the dozens of Swans aligned in the garden, boots clacking loudly on the stone, as he uses his impressive height to inspect them.

With years of practice dealing with Swans, Fancy can see one of the Swans grow irritable. An inevitable occurrence -- it would take a well-trained and well-practiced hoof to ease the fowl into a more understandable state. They were wily and demanding, in exchange for their immense beauty.

As the Royal Advisor nears the end of the lineup, one of the closer swans gets agitated, flaring its wings and hisses loudly, standing off.

The Human leans down, and hisses back, barring surprisingly sharp teeth as he stares it down.

Fancy Pants yet again scrubs off his monocle, as the Swan quickly pacifies, awkwardly returning to attention.

"That is... an irregular approach." One of his fellow committee-members mumbles.

"Effective, though. I've never seen them so behaved." The other comments.

"...I suppose, this year, we are relegated to advice." Fancy Pants nods, sighing.

Celestia had a few questions for why the Swans were marching in-line, behind Arnon, down the Canterlot streets. They'd never done that before.

When informed they were 'Goose-Stepping', she felt inclined to inform him they were not geese... but he seemed aware. Still, at least he looked like he was having fun with it.

Luna, later, asked Arnon if he could teach her Thestrals something similar, impressed by the formation. Arnon agreed, and poor Celestia had to withstand numerous days of hoof-marching around the castle.

He is, however, no longer allowed to host the Swanifying, given that the Swans had filed numerous complaints.