The Final Accusation: A Legal Comedy

Chapters

Chapter 1: Opening Formalities
Chapter 2: St. Tiara of Ponyville
Chapter 3: Magical Innovators Nonpareil
Chapter 4: The Final Accusation

Chapter 1: Opening Formalities

“Time to go, Applejack. Are you ready?”

The palomino alicorn opened one of her eyes, half-glaring at the abrupt interruption. She’d spent the last hour or so meditating to clear her mind of thoughts, because at the moment, not thinking at all was vastly preferable to thinking about what lay ahead of her. “No,” she replied brusquely. Even though twelve years had passed since the farmpony’s ascension and subsequent coronation as the Lady of the Soil, Her Serene Immortal Highness Princess Mara of Equestria, in many ways Applejack was first and foremost the Bearer of Honesty.

Fortunately, Merry May had been serving as the captain of the guard for the Princess since before her coronation—before she’d even wanted anypony to serve her, in fact. “Is something wrong, or is it just that y’all don’t wanna do it?” Even though Mara had long ago canceled her order for Merry May to imitate her native accent, the chartreuse pegasus still occasionally used it, usually when she felt the need to be as blunt as her Princess.

Applejack responded by opening her other eye and increasing the intensity of her glare. “Can’t imagine why anypony would wanna deal with those pieces of work. In fact, I’m pretty sure that that’s the reason I gotta do the heavy liftin’ on this stupid lawsuit!” This was true; the only reason that this particular case had reached the Ducal Court was because the previous trials had resulted in hung juries and appellate judges passing the buck on to higher courts due to their unwillingness to make any sort of decision. Princess Mara would have liked to take a similar tactic, except that the only court higher than Equestria’s three Ducal Courts was the Royal Court, and she sat on that bench as well. Besides, the Royal Court only convened when all three of Equestria’s Princesses unanimously decided that a case needed further review, and while there was certainly something to be said for allowing friends to help her through the difficulties of life, Celestia and Luna were unlikely to agree to this before she had reached an initial verdict on her own, and she was in no mood to hear this case twice.

The alicorn sighed as she rose from her favorite cushion; it had been intricately embroidered with a pattern of tessellated apple leaves by Granny Smith—one of the last things the lovable old jade had done for her granddaughter before passing away. She shook her head back and forth, allowing her mane to flow and billow outward, waving in an imperceptible, ethereal wind and allowing the occasional streak of brown, maroon, or gold to catch the light. “Mara’s Apples, this is going to suck,” the Princess said out loud to nopony in particular. Ponies who only knew her in formal contexts were often surprised at how often she took her own name in vain when there weren’t any foals or dignitaries in earshot. She particularly liked “Mara’s Apples,” since it took most ponies quite some time to figure out that the apples in question didn’t come from an orchard.

A bronze-rimmed Stetson slowly floated on top of Applejack’s head as she racked her brain for any excuse to continue procrastinating. Finding none, she reluctantly headed out of her chambers and began walking through its halls to the throne room of her Ponyville estate, where she normally held her Ducal Court. The Princess hated presiding over civil trials. With criminal trials, everything was so simple: the prosecution laid out the evidence, and the defense tried to poke holes in it. If the evidence held up, the defendant was deemed to be guilty and sentenced accordingly.

Civil trials, on the other hoof, were a huge pain in the neck. Unlike criminal trials, they were separated into two stages: accusation, where each party would attempt to demonstrate their “moral character,” after which the party deemed less moral would be saddled with the burden of proof, and inquisition, where the pertinent evidence would be examined in order to reach a final verdict.

“Um, Princess? You forgot your judicial robes,” Merry May called out as Applejack opened the door to a long hallway. Arguably, the most prominent way that her ascension had changed her sleepy hometown was the addition of the Harvest Palace to the landscape. This imposing structure was known to the locals (and any other pony who could see it from a distance) as the “World Tree,” which was quite apt, since it was built in, around, and from a massive, living apple tree, originally crafted from a large circle of smaller trees which eventually melded into a single organism whose growth showed no signs of stopping. It was inside this domed pseudo-trunk that she normally held her court, hosted dignitaries, and threw the occasional Royal Hoedown with Pinkie Pie’s assistance. Jutting out from the sides of this tree were four long barns which provided living space for guests, permanent staff, and Mara’s personal guard. The Princess was currently wandering down a flight of stairs from the boughs of the the tree, where the royal apartments were located.

She seemed quite willing to brush off her captain’s concerns. “Believe me, Merry, this circus ain’t gonna be worthy of that kinda respect. If things turn out the way I think they will, I’ll have my hooves full just tryin’ ta keep from goin’ nuts.”

“Why?”

“I take it y’all haven’t kept up with current events,” Applejack replied as she levitated the morning newspaper off of a nearby coffee table and floated it over to her captain. “Read this.”

It didn’t take long for Merry May to realize why her Princess was so agitated: “Diamond Tiara v. FlimFlam?!”

—————

“All rise.”

Even though news of this trial had made the front page of the Ponyville Express, Applejack had been stunned to see her cavernous throne room crammed with spectators; that sort of public attention was usually reserved for the most sordid of criminal trials, not the internecine squabbles of public nuisances.

Merry May, meanwhile, continued with her duties as the Court’s marshall. “The High Court of the Duchy of Ponyville is now in session. Her Serene Immortal Highness Princess Mara, Duchess of Ponyville, Appleloosa, and the Southern Expanse, presiding.”

Applejack slowly strolled out of a side room and up to an elevated oak throne decorated with applewood inlays. She rapped a hoof on one of the throne’s armrests (as the hoof of a Goddess was considered to be more than sufficient for use as a gavel) and, in the Manehattan accent she affected for formal proceedings, said, “Be seated. The issue before Our Court today concerns a grievance brought by Diamond Tiara against FlimFlam Brothers, Inc.” Normally, the Princess disliked the rote formalities that accompanied her role as a jurist, but today was different. Today, they were comforting in their predictability, and she wanted to relish this calmness as long as possible.

Unfortunately, though, only Goddesses were eternal. “Is the plaintiff present?” Applejack reluctantly asked.

“I am,” responded a haughty voice to the Princess’ left. It had been several years since Applejack had spoken to Diamond Tiara. The last time she’d been in the room with the mare, it was to inform her that Sweet Apple Acres would no longer be supplying Zap Apple Jam to Rich’s Barnyard Bargains. Since then, she’d traded in her tiara for a cravat, ostensibly to look more professional as the CEO of her family’s company, but Applejack suspected that it was meant to be a backhanded insult at Apple Bloom; if she was a princess, then clearly becoming a princess wasn’t special enough to be worth pursuing as a goal.

“Have you employed the services of an advocate to present your argument?”

“I have, Your Majesty.” Somehow, Diamond Tiara managed to make this sound like an insult without using any sarcasm. “Silver Spoon.”

Unlike her client, Silver Spoon didn’t show any emotion as she made eye contact with the Princess and silently nodded. She was a relatively recent graduate of Neightre Dam Law School, but had already acquired a reputation as a skilled attorney. She’d already managed to settle quite a few disputes that had arisen from Diamond Tiara’s abrasive personality after Filthy Rich’s sudden passing, which was the likely origin of persistent rumors that she was the major reason why Rich’s Barnyard Bargains had managed to stay in business.

Princess Mara now turned her attention to the other side of her courtroom. “Are the defendants present?”

“Indeed we are, Your Majesty,” replied a mustachioed unicorn stallion—the Princess couldn’t quite remember if he was Flim or Flam, but at the moment, she didn’t really care. The twins’ appearances hadn’t changed very much since their ill-fated attempt to take over Sweet Apple Acres; both were still quite trim, and neither appeared to have gained any wrinkles over the years, which the Princess attributed to some form of plastic surgery. In fact, the only indication that either of them had aged a day were the white hairs that seemed to be creeping into this twin’s mustache.

“And, might I add that you’re looking quite regal today?” his clean-shaven brother added. Apparently, their usual tactic of “turning on the charm” was so deeply etched into their psyches that they didn’t even think about whether or not the context was appropriate. Although she was sorely tempted to point out that, as part of Equestria’s ruling triumvirate, she always looked regal by definition, the Princess knew better than to engage the twins in anything other than the standard legally structured conversation and chose to ignore the rather transparent attempt at flattery.

“Which one are you again?”

“Flim, Your Majesty, and my hirsute brother is none other than Flam!” he replied in a voice that sounded far too enthusiastic for Applejack’s taste.

“And have you employed an advocate to present your defense?” Mara asked, her voice already taking on a hint of weariness.

“Indeed, we have, Your Majesty,” Flam replied.

Flim continued, “To defend our honor from the despicable, shameful, odious and hateful accusations of the craven and cowardly mare seated to your right...”

“...we have employed the services of the sharpest, wittiest, and most superlative legal mind in all of Equestria...”

“...our beautiful...”

“...talented...”

“...incomparably engaging sister, Slim!” the twins ended in chorus.

Princess Mara hadn’t expected to learn that the unicorn mare sitting beside the defendants was actually related to them. She thought that the cream-colored pony with a set of unbalanced scales for a cutie mark was simply being paid extra to wear a red version of the brothers’ blue striped vest, particularly since most mares with her body frame were either supermodels or Goddesses. She ran a hoof through her wavy, lavender mane (which, like her brothers’, contained occasional streaks of white). “May it please the court, I would like to say that it will be my pleasure to argue this case before you, Your Most Royal Majesty, and the gathered residents of this fine village, and I look forward to this opportunity to very definitively demonstrate the baselessness of the plaintiff’s positively preposterous claims.”

Mara of the Soil, she’s as bad as her brothers, Applejack thought to herself. She pushed this aside, knowing that the best way to get through this as quickly as possible was to do things by the book. “Silver Spoon, will you please relate the nature of your client’s grievance and the circumstances behind it for the benefit of the court?”

The grey mare briefly glowered at her counterpart before complying with the Princess’ request. “Your Majesty, my client is suing the defendants for the sum of 350,000 bits which are owed to her due to their breach of the contract held between them. After my client’s business lost their supplier for Zap Apple Jam, the defendants came to my client and proposed to begin research into the feasibility of creating a commercially viable substitute for zap apples using unicorn magic. My client agreed to fund their research, investing the 275,000 bits of her personal fortune in the defendants’ venture. Six months passed, with no communication between the two parties. When my client personally visited the defendants, she found that all of her money was missing, and that there was no evidence that any of the agreed-upon research had been undertaken. She asks that this Court award her the original sum of her investment, with additional punitive damages of 75,000 bits.”

“Ha!” Slim cried out derisively as Silver Spoon sat down.

Princess Mara raised an eyebrow at this unexpected outburst. “I assume the defense has prepared a response?”

Slim stood up and began pacing in front of the throne as she answered: “Your Most Royal Majesty, I am quite frankly shocked and insulted that the plaintiff would think to spin such a web of slander around my clients! First of all, the partnership between my clients and the plaintiff was her brainchild, as she was the one who sought them out, convincing them to tear their attention from other, equally ambitious projects. Secondly, I can prove, beyond a shadow of any doubt, that my clients regularly sent correspondence, signed, sealed, and sent directly through the Equestrian Postal System, to the plaintiff, who subsequently signed documentation undeniably demonstrating their delivery. Had Miss Tiara bothered to read this correspondence, she would doubtless have learned that her wisely spent bits were spent on scientific instruments—instruments that would be used to methodically test each of my clients’ theories as they worked their way towards the desired solution, and which she herself witnessed being used in their private laboratory during the same visit her attorney mentioned. They ask that this Court, in its infinite wisdom, find them without fault in this matter, that they be refunded their legal fees, and that Miss Tiara publicly apologize for her egregious waste of their extremely valuable time.”

Applejack glanced over at the plaintiff’s table and saw Diamond Tiara literally shaking with rage as Slim finished her opening statement. Given that the mare’s lack of self-restraint was a major part of what had led to her company’s inability to supply Zap Apple Jam in the first place (at least in the Princess’ admittedly biased opinion), it seemed likely that she’d have to take action to maintain an orderly Court. “Very well,” Mara said to nopony in particular. “As none of the lower courts were able to complete the accusation process in this matter, this Court will adjourn so that your advocates can prepare their arguments.” Of course, neither Silver Spoon nor Slim actually needed more prep time, but it would have been rude to imply that the courtroom needed to be emptied before the plaintiff blew a gasket. “We will reconvene tomorrow, and the plaintiff shall be granted the liberty to demonstrate her moral character. Our Court is adjourned.” The Princess rapped her hoof against the wooden armrest, and slinked back into the side chamber before anypony could make eye contact with her.

—————

Five minutes later, Merry May entered the chamber, holding a large glass bottle with Granny Smith’s smiling face on the label. “Something told me you needed something a bit stronger than hard cider today.”

The alicorn smiled as she levitated the bottle of applejack out of her captain’s grasp. She didn’t normally drink the liquor that she’d been named after, but these were most definitely not normal circumstances. She poured herself a glass, which she downed in a single gulp. “Merry May, have I ever told y’all that you’re the best pony I’ve ever met?”

“You have, but then again, you tend to exaggerate whenever you’re drinking,” the pegasus replied with a smirk. For the first time all day, Applejack laughed.

Chapter 2: St. Tiara of Ponyville

House Divided sighed deeply as he began pacing around the room. “In order to fully explain the logic behind Equestrian legal procedures, it is necessary to explain the history of the judiciary. Before the establishment of official courts, disputes between ponies tended to be settled by duels, whether in the form of races, jousting, or magical confrontations. It should come as no surprise, therefore, that stronger ponies tended to get their way in these sorts of squabbles. Similarly, crimes against the community tended to be handled by angry mobs, as many strong ponies eventually learned to their dismay.

“However, as most ponies felt that the resulting anarchy was a rather undesirable state of affairs, ponies contrived judicial systems in order to settle disputes and mete out justice against the wicked. Each of the three pony races had their own unique quirks and variations in their courtroom procedures, but all three relied heavily on the process of accusation.”

Applejack—or Princess Mara, as her tutor preferred to call her—nodded in comprehension. “Okay, I was followin’ ya up to the part about accusin’. What is that?”

“At that time, all trials, whether civil or criminal, involved two ponies: the accuser, and the accused. At the trial, the former would implicate the latter in some manner of wrongdoing or mischief. Then, both parties would bring forth witnesses who could vouch for their personal character. Finally, either a judge or a jury would decide which pony was more trustworthy.”

“And then what?”

“And then the trial was over. If the accuser was found to be more trustworthy, the accused would be found guilty and sentenced accordingly. If the accused was found more trustworthy, they would be declared innocent, and the accuser would be required to pay all court costs as punishment for bringing forth a false accusation.”

“What?! But what about the evidence?”

“Why would they take that into account? After all, they’d already determined which pony was more trustworthy, so it would be insulting not to take them at their word.”

“But... but that would mean you could get away with anythin’, as long as ya did it ta somepony with a worse reputation than you.”

“Or if you were rich enough to bribe witnesses to lie for you,” the unicorn scholar pointed out. “It was, at best, a highly flawed process, but it was still much better than what had existed before, and it wasn’t until after the three races united to form a single nation that a potential alternative was devised. In this process, known as inquisition, the judge or jury would conduct an inquiry into the matter at hoof, examining the evidence, and hearing testimony from witnesses who had some firsthoof knowledge of the incident, rather than ones who simply vouched for a pony’s moral character. The idea was that the losing party would be the one who couldn’t prove their claims.”

“That makes sense.”

“Yes, but attempts to implement it ran into some problems. How could a verdict be reached in those cases where neither party could prove their claims? Or where both parties could present a convincing argument? In short, what was lacking was a way to determine who should have the burden of proof in any given trial. Fortunately, somepony—tradition holds that it was Chancellor Puddinghead, but there isn’t much evidence for it—had the idea of using the accusatorial process to determine where the burden of proof lay. It was at this point that the Equestrian judicial system began to resemble the courtrooms of today.”

“Whoa, hang on a second! I’ve seen plenty of courtroom scenes in plays n’ such, but they never do any of that accusin’ business.”

“That’s because most legal dramas are about criminal trials, which, conveniently enough, leads me to the most recent major development in modern legal theory.”

“Go on,” Applejack said, waving a hoof as she beckoned her teacher to continue.

“Just before Nightmare Moon’s appearance, there were many who sought to take advantage of the recently acquired notoriety of those nobles who had expressed loyalty to Luna, whose popularity had nearly reached its nadir.”

“What’s a nader?”

“Rock bottom, more or less,” House Divided explained. “By bringing forth trumped up charges that couldn’t be disproven, these ponies eroded her already small support base, unknowingly driving her further down the path of madness.”

“Hang on, that sounds familiar. Is this that Sun Cult y’all mentioned before?”

“The very same. When the dust had settled after Nightmare Moon’s banishment, these ponies came forward and admitted what they had done, apparently expecting Celestia to reward them for helping her consolidate her power.”

Applejack winced. “Hoo boy, I wouldn’t wanna be in their horseshoes.”

“Nor would I. Throughout her conflict with Luna, Princess Celestia could not be described as ‘angry’ towards her sister, but rather disappointed. When she banished her to the moon, nopony could say that there was any malice in the act. What these alleged ‘loyalists’ received from her, on the other hoof, was full-blown fury, the likes of which have yet to be repeated.”

“Somethin’ tells me I don’t wanna see that happen.”

“That ‘something’ is called common sense. Most historians of the time refused to go into full detail when describing Princess Celestia’s wrath, because they were worried that doing so would instill an undesirable level of fear in the hearts of their readers. In any case, the first thing she did was to declare that the prosecutor would forevermore have the burden of proof in criminal trials to prevent such abuses from recurring. The second thing she did was to have these ponies tried for corruption under her newly established system. Given that they’d all publicly admitted what they’d done, they all soon found themselves serving sentences in the Canterlot dungeons.”

“Served ’em right,” Applejack said. “But why only criminal trials?”

“In civil trials, all ponies must either pay for their own lawyers, or argue their case themselves. There were concerns that virtuous but poor ponies would otherwise be unable to find justice under this system, as a result of substandard representation. The accusatorial process gives these ponies the opportunity to avoid having to shoulder the burden of proof, which makes for a fairer courtroom.”

“You sure ’bout that? Somethin’ don’t add up there.”

“Princess Mara, no judiciary will ever be perfect. This system has, for the most part, been working well for one thousand years. If you want to change it, I daresay you’ll need to come up with a better idea.”

—————

Applejack sighed as her memories of that lesson faded into the present. She’d been trying to come up with that “better idea” for twelve years now, and had very little to show for it. Coming up with a solution that would be fair to ponies from all walks of life was maddeningly difficult, if only because it seemed like every pony had their own definition of “fairness.” But there was little point in dwelling on this at the moment; she had more unpleasant matters to attend to.

—————

The spectators in Mara’s throne room quieted down as the Princess rapped her hoof on her armrest. “Be seated. Our Court will now begin the process of determining the burden of proof in the dispute between Diamond Tiara and FlimFlam Brothers, Inc. Today, we shall hear from witnesses who will vouch for the moral character of the plaintiff.” She made eye contact with Silver Spoon. “Are there witnesses prepared to offer such testimony present in this room?”

“There are, Your Majesty.”

“And have they agreed to testify of their own volition and without compensation?”

“They have.”

“Then you may call your first witness.” Applejack sighed softly as she finished this statement; the case had left the comfort of rote ceremony and was now entering the unpredictability of an actual trial.

Silver Spoon stood up and said, “The plaintiff requests the presence of Redheart before this Court.”

There was a small murmur from the spectators as a white earth pony with a pink mane rose from her seat and walked towards Mara’s throne, but this wasn’t particularly unusual. Spectators were generally not told who would be testifying in any given trial in order to prevent harassment and other forms of interference, and as a result, most witnesses tended to invoke a mildly surprised reaction at least. The mare walked behind a wooden partition to Mara’s left and sat down on the padded wooden chair provided.

Merry May, still acting as the Court’s marshall, walked over to her. “Please state your name and occupation for the Court.”

“My name is Redheart, and I am a registered nurse and the chief administrator of Ponyville Hospital.”

“And do you promise to tell the truth to the best of your ability?”

“I do.”

Merry May nodded perfunctorily and walked back to her station. “You may proceed,” she said to Silver Spoon with a second nod.

The grey attorney walked out from behind the table and began her questioning: “Redheart, do you know my client?”

“Yes, she has visited the hospital on numerous occasions since I began working there.”

“How often?”

“Well, until recently her visits were no more frequent than most ponies. Yearly checkups, occasional injuries, that sort of thing. There was also one instance where she had to stay in the hospital for nearly a week for reasons I can’t reveal due to patient confidentiality.”

“Of course,” Silver Spoon replied. She began pacing back and forth as she continued her questioning. “Now, you said that my client’s visits were not particularly frequent until recently, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Would you care to expand on that?”

“Certainly. You see, her interaction with the hospital was fairly typical until about three years ago.”

“And what happened to change her relationship with the hospital?”

“Her father, Filthy Rich, was admitted to the hospital late one night after going into cardiac arrest. He... he didn’t make it.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“It’s always disappointing when you can’t save a life, but this was especially painful. Mr. Rich had been a friend of the hospital for years. He was one of our most prominent donors, and he even organized the occasional fundraiser to help us update our equipment.”

“I’m sure you and the other staff did everything you could to save him.”

“Of course. Common decency dictates that we do everything we can for every pony that comes through our doors. But... as I said, this was particularly emotional for the whole staff.”

Silver Spoon nodded. “When did my client learn what had happened?”

“I told her the next morning.”

“How did she react?”

“Ms. Tiara was quite upset, initially. She seemed quite shocked at her father’s passing, and she rather loudly threatened the hospital with legal action. It’s not an uncommon reaction, though—many ponies are emotional when a loved one dies unexpectedly. She mentioned several recent breakthroughs in medical technology that should have allowed us to save Mr. Rich’s life.”

Princess Mara did her best to hide her emotions as she listened to this. Somehow, it didn’t surprise her that Diamond Tiara would react to her father’s death by throwing a tantrum. Even as a full-grown mare, she never reacted well when she didn’t get exactly what she wanted, and her father’s survival would no doubt have been extremely high on her “want” list.

“Would these breakthroughs have helped?” Silver Spoon asked the nurse.

“No two patients are the same—I can’t say with certainty that they would have.”

“But would his chances for success have been increased?”

“In all likelihood, yes, but these technologies weren’t available to us.”

“And why is that?”

“Quite simply, we lacked the funding to acquire such cutting-edge equipment, as well as the facilities to properly use them.”

“Is that what you told my client?”

“More or less.”

“And how did she react?”

“She seemed to calm down after this. She agreed to file some paperwork, after which she left to ‘think things over,’ as she put it.”

“When did you next hear from her?”

“It was about six months later. Out of the blue, she barged into my office and told me that she wanted to build a new emergency wing for the hospital, with all the latest technology to give other ponies the best possible chance at survival. She also made it clear that money was no object. I was... well, rather stunned, but once I made certain that she was quite serious, I had her present the proposal to Ponyville Hospital’s board of trustees. From there, things progressed quite rapidly; it wasn’t long before we broke ground on the new wing, and last year we completed construction and opened the Rich Memorial Emergency Wing for the public.”

“And has this new facility benefited the public?”

“Oh, yes. Several dozen ponies have been saved due to the new equipment, and countless more have been able to rehabilitate from serious injuries with greater ease thanks to improvements in their initial care.”

“So, would you say that this speaks well of Diamond Tiara’s character, then?”

“Absolutely.”

“Thank you, Ms. Redheart. I have no further questions.” Silver Spoon returned to her seat next to her client.

“Your witness,” Mara said to Slim, who flashed a broad grin at the Princess as she rose to cross-examine the nurse.

“Ms. Redheart,” the nattily-dressed attorney began, “I must first congratulate you on your hospital’s recent prosperity, and thank you for the goodwill you and your staff have been generating for all of ponykind.”

“Oh, um, you’re welcome, I suppose.”

“Out of curiosity, just how sizable was the investment in this new wing?”

“I believe that that information is publicly available....”

“Perhaps, but as you just intimated to Ms. Spoon, this reflects on the vastness of the plaintiff’s moral character, so I would think it bears repeating it for all to hear.”

“Well, I don’t have the exact figures, but the wing cost about three million bits to construct.”

“Three million bits! My goodness! Does that also include the cost of the new equipment?”

“Er, no. That cost an additional million.”

“Sun, Moon, and Soil! My friends, we are surely in the presence of a true paragon of magnanimity! Four million bits out of her own personal fortune, all to assist fellow ponies in their time of greatest need! Why, one suspects that she will be considered for the position of the next Bearer of Generosity!”

Mara raised an eyebrow suspiciously. She wasn’t certain why the lawyer was calling attention to her adversary’s largesse, but she doubted it was straightforward praise.

“Um, actually...” Redheart said, speaking up.

“What is it, my good mare?” Slim asked genially.

“Ms. Tiara didn’t provide the money directly. The donation actually came from her company—though I understand that she was the driving force behind this.”

Slim smirked, leading the Princess to believe that the lawyer had jumped over a major hurdle in her strategy. “Is that so? Then, am I correct in saying that this captain of industry’s metaphorical ship brandishes the moniker ‘Rich Enterprises, Inc.’?”

“I believe so.”

“Am I also correct in my assumption that this exemplary illustration of generosity afforded the aforementioned benefactor the opportunity to attenuate their annual assessments to the Crown?”

“Huh?”

“Was the donation tax-deductible?” Mara asked, barely managing to keep her eyes from rolling.

“Oh, of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

Slim, however, was under no obligation to answer any questions posed by the witness, and continued on. “Once the construction of monument to modern medicine was complete, did that constitute the extent of the hospital’s relationship with the plaintiff’s company?”

“Ah, no, as a matter of fact. They also own and operate the hospital’s gift shop.”

“A gift shop?”

“Yes. Visitors often wish to bring gifts to patients, but sometimes they’re in such a hurry to get to the hospital that they don’t have time to purchase one on the way. Ms. Tiara came up with the idea of establishing a small Rich’s Barnyard Bargains franchise on the hospital grounds for their convenience. The board of trustees figured that it was the least they could do after their act of charity.”

“Indeed. And I assume, of course, that they don’t charge any more than is necessary to cover operating costs at this franchise.”

“Um, actually, no. The manager on site explained that if they reduced their prices, everypony would simply shop at the hospital, and they’d soon have to raise prices in order to keep turning a profit.”

“Ah... that’s perfectly understandable. So, they charge the same prices as they do at their regular stores, then?”

“Um, no, actually. You see, apparently, the operating costs at the hospital are considerably higher...”

“Your Majesty,” Silver Spoon interjected with some annoyance, “is there a point to this line of questioning?”

Slim didn’t even wait for Mara’s response. “Naturally, there is, Your Most Royal Majesty,” she said as she nonchalantly strolled back to her table and picked up a stack of papers with her magic. “May it please the Court, I would like to submit the quarterly reports for Rich Enterprises as evidence, as well as their publicly available tax returns.”

“Objection, Your Majesty,” Silver Spoon said rather firmly. “There is no reason for the defense to be submitting evidence at this point in the trial.”

Mara turned back towards Slim. “Well?”

“Very well, I shall cease beating around the bush and say it outright: In the first year of this franchise’s operation, Rich Enterprises garnered nearly 100,000 bits in sales in a facility whose costs of construction were written of as a tax deduction and thus indirectly relegated to the Equestrian taxpayer. Thus, over the next decade, this alleged ‘act of charity’ could very well leave the plaintiff’s company with one million bits in the black.”

At this, Diamond Tiara jumped to her feet with pure hatred flashing across her eyes. “How dare you—”

“May it please the Court, I would like to submit the quarterly reports for Rich Enterprises as evidence, as well as their publicly available tax returns,” Slim repeated, her voice managing to drown out the remainder of the plaintiff’s tirade.

“Order! Order!” The Princess shouted as she rapped her hoof on the armrest. Once the assembled ponies had quieted down, she spoke up again. “The Court will accept the defense’s evidence,” she said, taking the papers from the unicorn lawyer, “and I would like to remind the plaintiff that if she doesn’t have the self-control to restrain herself from outbursts, she risks being cited for contempt, which will be factored into my decision if it occurs before the accusation phase is completed. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Silver Spoon answered for her client.

Mara turned her glare over to the other attorney in the room. “I would also like to remind the defense that there is a rather significant difference between gross sales and net profits, and that they would be wise to keep that in mind if they wish to impugn the plaintiff’s financial integrity.”

Slim said nothing, but she looked mildly chastened, as though she hadn’t expected this distinction to be noticed. Apparently, her brothers had given her the impression that Applejack had only a tenuous grasp of basic economics—as if she wouldn’t have learned anything after a dozen years on the throne.

“Ms. Slim, do you have any more questions for Ms. Redheart?”

“I have no further questions, Your Majesty.” the lawyer replied, her mouth turning up once again into a slight smirk. She walked back to her table, where her brothers had equally smug looks plastered on their faces.

“You are dismissed, Ms. Redheart,” Mara told the nurse. When the mare had returned to her seat, the Princess spoke once again to Silver Spoon. “You may call your next witness.”

Silver Spoon sighed as she rose again. “The plaintiff requests the presence of Time Turner before this Court.”

One minute later, a brown earth pony stallion with a green necktie was sitting by Mara’s side, and Merry May had once again walked forward to perform her ceremonial duty.

“Please state your name and occupation for the Court.”

“I am Time Turner, and I am the incumbent mayor of Ponyville.”

“And do you promise to tell the truth to the best of your ability?”

“I do.”

Merry May turned back to Silver Spoon. “You may proceed.”

Even though her client was still visibly seething, it appeared that the grey attorney had already put the previous disruption behind her as she began questioning her new witness. “Mayor Turner, how well would you say you know my client?”

“I wouldn’t say that I know her on a personal level,” the official replied in a smooth, even tenor, “but I’ve gotten to know her in a professional context as a result of her activities in the community.”

“And what would the nature of these activities?”

“Ms. Tiara chairs the Ponyville Restoration Committee, which is coordinating the restoration of Ponyville’s historic market district.”

“And what, exactly, are her responsibilities?”

“Essentially, she and the other committee members identify buildings and landmarks in the area that are in need of refurbishing, and, if necessary, help the owners deal with the paperwork needed to request public funding to cover the expenses. You see, ever since Princess Mara’s coronation, Ponyville’s population has been growing quite rapidly—so rapidly, in fact, that the market district wasn’t big enough for all of the new businesses that were being set up. This led to the establishment of new commercial districts, but ironically also resulted in the original market district becoming somewhat run-down as customers began patronizing the new businesses. The Committee was set up so the place could get spruced up a bit, making it a bit more attractive to customers and keeping several of the town’s beloved institutions from going under.”

“And has this effort been effective?”

“Oh, yes. Collectively, the stores in the district have had their revenues increase nearly twenty-five percent, and one of the most well-known bakeries in town, Sugarcube Corner, was rescued from near-bankruptcy.”

“And has my client received any compensation for her service to the community?”

“Not to my knowledge,” Time Turner replied.

“Thank you, Mayor Turner. I have no further questions.” As Silver Spoon returned to her seat, her eyes darted between her client and the opposing counsel, as if she couldn’t decide which of the two posed a greater threat to her case.

Slim cranked up the charm once again as she approached Time Turner, flashing the most winning smile she could manage at him. To her mild consternation, the mayor returned the favor with a practiced, confident smile of his own—he was a politician, after all. “Mayor Turner,” she began, shrugging off her apparent slip-up, “where exactly in this fair town might one find the historical market district?”

“It’s in the center of town, near the mayoral offices and the town’s library.”

“Indeed? And would you care to explain how this specific locality acquired the honorific adjective of ‘historical’?”

Time Turner nodded. “It was the town’s first commercial district, consisting of the businesses that grew around the Rich family’s first store.”

“And that emporium still stands today, serving as a beacon of savings to bargain-hunters throughout the region, under the name ‘Rich’s Barnyard Bargains,’ correct?”

“Yes... and before you ask, Rich Enterprises has not applied for any public assistance in refurbishing their store.”

“I... uh... the thought hadn’t crossed my mind,” Slim replied, though it was obvious from the look on her face that that had been precisely what she’d planned to ask next. The attorney took a half-second to regain her composure, running a hoof through her lavender mane before continuing her cross-examination. “Now, I would imagine that all of this additional beautification would create a corresponding increase in property values for all of the buildings in the area, irregardless of whether or not the owners had directly participated in this program.”

Mara rolled her eyes when the lawyer said “irregardless.” She’d never liked the meaningless prefix, as it usually meant that somepony was trying to sound more intelligent than they actually were by using an impressively multisyllabic word—although in this case, Slim had probably used it because her vaguely singsong cadence required her to fill that space with some sort of noise. The mayor, meanwhile, hadn’t seemed to notice anything odd. “Naturally,” he answered.

“And of course, the owners of these properties will be able to take advantage their newfound fortune when applying for loans at financial institutions.”

Time Turner nodded. “It is true that having more valuable property to offer as collateral would make it easier for them to get loans...” Slim grinned smugly, but before she could move in for the kill, the mayor finished his sentence: “...but I think that is more than balanced out by the fact that they also have to pay higher property taxes.”

There were several seconds of silence as Slim stood before the witness with a confused look on her face. Applejack somehow managed to suppress a smirk; there were few things more gratifying than watching a hotshot attorney get thrown off her game. “Are you alright, Ms. Slim?” she asked, letting the barest hint of her native accent slip into her question.

“I’m fine, Your Majesty,” the mare said.

“Do you have any more questions for Mayor Turner?”

“Um... no, I have no further questions.” She walked back to her table, where her two brothers seemed quite agitated. Slim started whispering barely audible reassurances to her clients as she sat down.

“You are dismissed, Mayor Turner,” Mara told the stallion, who smiled politely as he left the stand. Once again, she made eye contact with Silver Spoon. “You may call your next witness.”

The grey attorney’s confidence had obviously been buoyed by her counterpart’s crash and subsequent burn, as she allowed herself to smile when she said, “The plaintiff requests the presence of her final witness, Dominick the Donkey, before this Court.”

Mara was stunned to see a small, nervous-looking donkey step before her throne. This was extremely unusual—not because he was a donkey (non-pony testimony had been accepted in Equestrian courts for more than a millennium), but because he was obviously still a child. Asking a juvenile of any species to be a character witness was risky, because many of them weren’t mature enough to properly evaluate a pony’s character. The Princess fully expected the defense to raise an objection on these grounds... but it never came.

It certainly wasn’t because Slim was still shaken up. In fact, her smug grin was now glowing more triumphantly than ever. If anypony was rattled, it was Silver Spoon, who had no doubt prepared an argument for why the young jack should be allowed to testify. Instead, it appeared that Slim had not only anticipated Dominick’s testimony, but was glad that it would be taking place.

For his part, Dominick had sat down on the seat and was now looking around the cavernous room apprehensively. Merry May didn’t bother walking over to meet him, since she knew that the Princess preferred to handle underaged witnesses herself. “Howdy there. What’s yer name?” Applejack asked the little donkey, giving him a reassuring smile as she reverted to her folksy native accent.

“Um, D-Dominick, Princess.”

“And where’re ya from, Dominick?”

“I, um, I’m from Ponyville.”

“Ya goin’ ta school here?”

“Uh huh...”

With the witness’ name and occupation taken care of, it was time to get to the topic of honesty. “A’right, Dominick. Now, these folks are gonna ask you a few questions. I want you ta answer ’em as best ya can. It’s real important that ya tell the truth, though, so if ya don’t know the answer to any question, just say ya don’t know. Same thing if ya don’t feel comfortable answerin’ a question. It’s better ta not give any answer than ta make somethin’ up. You understand?”

“Um, I think so.”

“Well, alright then.” Mara looked over at Silver Spoon, and, switching back to her Manehattan accent, said, “You may proceed.”

The silver mare walked up to her witness and tried to give an encouraging smile of her own to the little jack, but whatever encouragement Dominick might have received was canceled out by the self-satisfied smirk that was still plastered on Slim’s face. “Dominick, when did you first meet Ms. Tiara?”

“Um, it was two years ago, just before Hearth’s Warming.”

“Where did you meet her?”

“In the store.”

“Rich’s Barnyard Bargains?”

“Uh huh.”

“Why did you go there?”

“To get something.”

“For yourself, or for someone else?”

“It was for my Mama.”

“A Hearth’s Warming gift?”

“Yeah...”

“You wanted to give her something special, right?”

“Uh huh.”

“Would you mind telling us why?”

“Well, Mama was always there for me. Every day, she’d make me lunch before I went to school, and when I got home, there was always dinner there, too. And then at night, she’d tuck me into bed. When I was little she’d read bedtime stories to me, but I’m older now. We didn’t have a lot of money, but Mama always made Hearth’s Warming good at our house, though most years she just did without. Except that year...” The young donkey trailed off.

“What happened?”

“Well, around the end of summer, Mama started getting really bad headaches. She wasn’t able to make lunch for me as often, so Daddy had to help her out. He was okay at it, but he always forgot to cut the crusts off my sandwiches. Then Mama started getting really skinny, even though she was eating normal just like me and Daddy. Daddy took Mama to the doctor, and the doctor said that Mama was really really sick. Like, the kind of sick that can’t be fixed with vegetable soup. The doctor said Mama needed lots of rest to get better, so Mama started spending a lot of time in bed. But... but she wasn’t getting better. Soon, clumps of her fur were falling out. Daddy said that Mama might not be around much longer, and Mama was really sad, because she wasn’t going to be able to make Hearth’s Warming special.

“So, I thought, maybe I could make Hearth’s Warming special for her this year. I’d been saving up my money all year to buy a train set, but making Mama happy seemed to be a lot more important. I got all my money out of my piggy bank, and I went to the store to find something for Mama. At first, I was going to get her this really pretty scarf, but then I saw these shoes. They were like the kind that the Princesses wear, all shiny and pretty. I looked at the box, and they were Mama’s size! I knew I had to get them, because then Mama could feel like she was a Princess, and lots of girls like feeling like they’re a Princess, and Mama was basically a really big girl, right? I took the box to the cash register pony, and I gave the cash register pony my money, but he said there wasn’t enough. I was really sad, because Mama wasn’t going to get to feel like a Princess.”

Silver Spoon smiled. “So, what happened next?”

“Well, then I saw Miss Tiara. I told her about Mama, and how she was sick, and how I wanted to get her the shoes, and how I didn’t have enough money, and I asked her for help. And she helped me! She paid the rest of the money for the shoes, and she gave me the train set I wanted!”

“And did your mother like your gift?”

“Uh huh. She said it was the best gift ever. She was crying when she said it, but she said they weren’t sad tears.”

“Did they make her feel like a Princess?”

“Yeah... they really did.”

“So, would you say Ms. Tiara is a nice pony?”

“Definitely! She’s one of the nicest ponies I’ve ever met.”

“Thank you, Dominick. I have no further questions, Your Majesty.” Silver Spoon walked back to her client and sat down.

Mara couldn’t believe her ears; it almost sounded like Diamond Tiara was actually capable of genuine empathy. Not only that, it seemed that she’d actually acted on those feelings in a positive way! Perhaps she’d misjudged the standoffish mare....

As Slim rose to begin her cross-examination, Mara shot out a warning glare at her. The message couldn’t have been clearer: Do not make this child upset. The unicorn attorney seemed to acknowledge this, nodding briefly before turning her attention to the witness. “That must have been a very memorable experience, Mr. Dominick,” she began. Her voice had none of its usual “traveling salespony” cadence, which surprised Mara. She’d been certain that the defendants’ lawyer would be just as aggressive with this witness as she’d been with the other two. “I bet you can recall every detail of what happened that night.”

“Uh huh,” Dominick said, his wary tone conveying his distrust of the pony who’d been saying mean things about Miss Tiara all day.

“Tell me,” Slim continued, “were you aware that somepony wrote a song about what happened that night?”

“They did?”

Slim nodded. “Ms. Tiara’s company asked a musician to write a song. Have you heard it?”

“Nuh uh.”

Slim looked at the Princess. “May it please the Court, I would like to submit a performance of the chorus of the aforementioned song as evidence.”

Mara didn’t know what to make of this... and apparently, neither did the plaintiff or her attorney, if the looks on their faces were any indication. “Um, I guess the Court will accept the defense’s evidence.”

Slim glanced back at her clients. “Boys, if you would be so kind...”

Flim extracted a pitch pipe from his pocket, blew a note to get his vocal bearings, and then began singing in a soft, melodious tenor:

“Miss, I want to buy these shoes for my Mama, please.
It’s Hearth’s Warming Eve and these shoes are just her size.”

Flam now joined his brother, singing in unison with him at first, before gradually beginning to harmonize with him:

“Can you hurry, ma’am? Daddy says there’s not much time.
You see, she’s been sick for quite a while
And I know these shoes will make her smile
And I want her to look beautiful if she leaves for the Pasture tonight.”

It was a beautiful performance, and Princess Mara might have been touched by it were the song itself not so cloying and saccharine that it would make Pinkie Pie nauseous.

Slim returned her attention to Dominick. “How close was that to what you actually told Ms. Tiara?”

“Uh, pretty close, I think. Um I mean... well... I didn’t mention my Daddy or that part about a Pasture the first time I asked her.”

Slim’s eyebrow cocked upward inquisitively as Diamond Tiara simultaneously slunk lower in her chair. “The first time? You had to ask her more than once before she agreed to help?”

“No, she said she’d help out when I first asked her, but she told me that she’d buy me my train set if we went back to the cash register pony where all the other customers were and I asked her again, and included the parts about Daddy and the Pasture.”

“I see. Did you know that her company hired ponies to play this song in their stores for Hearth’s Warming shoppers last year?”

“Um, no, but that sounds really nice of her. Music makes things better, most of the time.”

“That’s certainly true, Dominick. I have one more question for you, okay?”

“Okay.”

“What do you think your mother would think about this song?”

“I dunno. Why don’t you ask her? She’s sitting right over there.” The young jack pointed towards a row of spectators near the front of the courtroom, and sure enough, there was frail, matronly jenny, waving to her son. “She got better soon after I met Miss Tiara. I think the shoes did it,” Dominick ended with a smile, confident that he’d proven that Miss Tiara was the best pony ever.

“Thank you, Dominick. Your Most Royal Majesty, I have no further questions.” Slim returned to her seat, her smile looking more victorious than ever.

“Y’all can go back to yer Mama, Dominick,” Applejack told the little donkey, who practically galloped back to his mother. The Princess looked at Silver Spoon, who was pressing a hoof against her temple. “Does the plaintiff have any more character witnesses to present?”

“No, Your Majesty,” the grey mare said in a tone that managed to hide most of her frustration.

“Then this Court will reconvene tomorrow, and the defendants will be granted liberty to demonstrate their moral character. Our Court is adjourned.”

—————

“If you’re going to drink it that fast, you might as well not bother with the glass.”

Applejack stared over her third glass of applejack at her seneschal, who was watching her Princess drown her irritations with a bemused look on her face. “Care to join me?”

“You know I don’t drink on the job.”

“Then find somepony else to stand around and take the rest of the night off.”

“Is that an order?”

“Yer darn tootin’ it is.”

It took Merry May a few minutes to find a replacement, but she soon found herself partaking in the distilled cider beverage with her employer. “Today was... interesting,” she said, unable to think of a better adjective.

“Ya got that right. We’re dealin’ with two really good lawyers here.”

“Really? It seemed like they made a lot of mistakes.”

“Eh, somethin’ tells me that’s just what happens when they don’t got too much to work with. I mean, usually, somepony would use better examples than what Silver Spoon came up with, but, well, with Diamond Tiara, those are slim pickings. And Slim probably wouldn’t have spent so much effort tearin’ those testimonies apart if her brothers had anything decent to counter it with. Then again, they really don’t seem to like each other very much, so maybe she was just bein’ a jerk. Still, I gotta admit, my opinion of Diamond Tiara has improved today.”

“The bar was that low, huh?”

“Eeyup,” Applejack replied before knocking back a fourth glass.

“And, if you don’t mind my asking, what do you think of the FlimFlam brothers?”

“I’m tryin’ not to. Least not ’til I have to.”

Merry May smiled. “Well, I can’t exactly argue with that.”

Author's Note

Some of you may not know what Dominick's story is referring to, or why the FlimFlam Brothers are singing that song. Trust me, you are better off not knowing, and you definitely should not watch this video.

Chapter 3: Magical Innovators Nonpareil

Applejack hadn’t gotten that much sleep the previous night, mostly because Luna was too busy to guarantee that neither the plaintiff nor the defendants (nor their lawyers) would show up in her dreams. Granted, this didn’t have any sort of physical effect on her, as she hadn’t had any biological need for sleep in twelve years, but staying awake until sunrise had been extremely dull, since the guard assigned to her for the night shift wasn’t very talkative. Merry May had tried to cheer her Princess up the next morning by pointing out an editorial in the Ponyville Express that claimed that whichever party was victorious in the accusatory stage would most likely win the whole trial. This, her seneschal claimed, was evidence that the worst would be over after today.

The Earth Goddess wasn’t nearly as optimistic about the situation as her captain, however. After all, if both parties’ cases rested on today’s proceedings, then their attorneys would no doubt tear into each other beak and claw, as the griffon idiom put it. The fact that the defense had brought a large, wheeled object wrapped in canvas into her throne room during the night didn’t bode too well either. She wasn’t certain what was underneath the tarpaulin, but if yesterday had been any indication, there was a good chance that it would disrupt her Court.

Might as well get this over with, Mara thought to herself as she ascended to her throne. “Be seated. Our Court will now continue the process of determining the burden of proof in the dispute between Diamond Tiara and FlimFlam Brothers, Inc. Today, we shall hear from witnesses who will vouch for the moral character of the defendants.” She quickly glanced over at the defendants’ attorney, whose confident, beaming smile did absolutely nothing to reassure her. “I assume these witnesses actually exist?” It was a rather sharp deviation from protocol, but Mara had ceased to care about that sort of thing in this trial.

Slim must have recognized this as a microscopically thinly veiled insult, but she brushed it off immediately. “They most certainly do, Your Most Royal Majesty, and I can assure that there is not a single pony who will leave this room with any doubts about the moral fiber of my clients.”

The Princess decided not to point out how things didn’t have to go particularly well for her clients in order for this statement to be correct, and returned to the standard protocol. “Have they agreed to testify of their own volition and without compensation?”

“Indeed, they have, Your Most Royal Majesty.”

“Then call your first witness.”

Slim stood up, ran a hoof through her lavender mane, and said, “Your Most Royal Majesty, the first witness that has come here today is famed for her innovations in the field of music, where she has melded magic and technology with artistic precision, thus enhancing the revelries of countless ponies. The defendants request the presence of Vinyl Scratch before Your Majesty’s Court.”

“Objection,” Silver Spoon said loudly, stunning everypony in the room, particularly Slim, who had obviously not anticipated this.

“Ms. Spoon,” Mara said, making every effort to hide the irritation in her voice, “what exactly are you objecting to?”

“I object to the defense’s first witness.”

Mara rapped her hoof on its armrest in an effort to keep the subsequent murmuring from escalating in volume. The throne room again fell silent, with the exception of a white unicorn with a blue mane and mirrored sunglasses who was standing in the aisle, looking confused. “Uh, does that mean I should sit back down?”

The Princess decided to ignore this question, as she had one of her own that needed answering. “Would the counsel for the plaintiff kindly explain what in tarnation she’s talkin’ about?!” She hadn’t meant to shout or to slip into her informal accent, but her patience was starting to wear thin.

The stone-faced attorney opened her briefcase and pulled out a manila file. “May it please this Court, the plaintiff would like to submit as evidence the file on Ms. Vinyl Scratch from the Canterlot Police Department. Over the past ten years, Ms. Scratch has been charged multiple times with disorderly conduct, public drunkenness, vandalism, littering, loitering, and excessive library fines. As such, she is unfit to serve as a character witness.”

Merry May passed the file to her Princess, who opened in and perused the contents. “She may have been charged with all of that, but she’s only been convicted on three counts of drunkenness and one count of vandalism. Drunkenness is a misdemeanor, and the vandalism was to deface a portrait of Prince Blueblood, who was probably asking for it anyway. I understand that the fact that she was involved in so many incidents might raise a few eyebrows, but that hardly disqualifies her from being a character witness, particularly since none of the incidents involve fraud or perjury. You can come forward, Ms. Scratch.”

The unicorn mare did so, grumbling under her breath as she took her place on the witness’ chair. Merry May walked over to perform her official duty as the Court’s marshall. “Please state your name and occupation for the Court.”

“The name’s Vinyl Scratch, and I DJ and produce electronic music under the stage name ‘DJ P0N-3.’”

“And do you promise to tell the truth to the best of your ability?”

“You bet.”

Merry May turned to Slim and nodded. “You may proceed.”

Slim walked up to her witness and began, “Now, Ms. Scratch, you have been plying your trade as a musician and composer for quite some time, if I am not mistaken.”

The white mare smiled and began bobbing her head in an extended nod. “Yeah, I’ve been doing that stuff since I got my cutie mark, but I didn’t start making a career out of it until maybe fifteen years ago.”

“I see. And can you explain the circumstances which initially thrust you into the public eye?”

“Well, I managed to get an underground following as a DJ pretty quickly with my chillout sets, but the whole ambient lounge thing was really constricting. I’d been wanting to break out and do something different, you know? Something that nopony had ever heard before. I tried mixing and matching different genres, and that got me some attention, but it never really felt original. Then I met the FlimFlams, and, well, thanks to them, my popularity shot through the roof, and I haven’t looked back since.”

“Indeed. Now, if you would be so kind as to recount your initial meeting with my clients, with particular attention paid to their subsequent influence on the musical tastes of ponies throughout Equestria, I would be most appreciative.”

“Well, I was at home, chillaxing with some minimalist classical music a friend of mine introduced me to, when all of a sudden, I hear this low bass tone just pulsing through my wall, like, drowning out everything, you know? I mean, I could actually feel the noise. I galloped to the window to see what was going on, and there were these two unicorns banging away on this big metal pipe organ type thing, only there was steam coming out of it. One of them was using magic on it, but from the looks on their faces, I don’t think that it was working the way they wanted it to. I mean, it still kind of sounded pipe organ-y, but there was a lot of rattling and squeaks and squelches and... and... WUBS!” The mare had broken out into a huge smile by the end of her statement and had spread her forelegs wide as she reveled in the memory.

Slim’s grin was equally wide as she turned to Princess Mara. “May it please the Court, the defense would like to submit as evidence a demonstration of the event Ms. Scratch described.”

“Fine,” Mara said. She figured it would be less stressful (and much faster) to just go with it instead of arguing.

Flim and Flam stood up and unfurled the canvas from the large object on wheels, which turned out to be a fairly sizable calliope. “Okay, brother of mine,” Flim said, “fire it up!” His mustachioed counterpart complied, pulling a lever and causing an engine to start chugging. Soon, steam started escaping from the pipes, creating clear metallic whistling noises. These notes soon formed themselves into a very familiar melody—in fact, Applejack had to fight the urge to sing about opportunities in her community, and if the looks on most of the spectators’ faces was any indication, she wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

However, right around the point where the first “nonpareil” would be, Flim’s horn suddenly glowed and surrounded his calliope with his magical aura. What happened next was... somewhat unexpected. Oh, all of the metaphorical bells and whistles associated with dubstep were there: the pulsating bass, the somewhat irregular rhythms, and the echoey squelches were certainly audible. But somehow, when combined with actual bells and whistles, the effect was extremely unsettling.

By the time the dust settled (and the vibrations of the calliope had in fact stirred up a surprisingly large number of infinitesimal particles around the room), many foals in the room were crying (as were quite a few adults), and there was a huge bottleneck at the exits where spectators were trying to flee for their sanity. The only pony who seemed to have genuinely enjoyed it was Vinyl Scratch, who had spent the whole time bobbing her head to something that vaguely resembled a beat. Mara was beginning to regret her decision to accept this “demonstration” as evidence without an argument.

It took nearly ten minutes to get everypony calmed down again, after which Slim continued to question the witness. “Now... you... enjoyed this particular experience when you were first exposed to it, correct?” It looked as though Slim could hardly believe the answer that Vinyl Scratch was about to give.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve always been into avant-garde stuff. Great way to get inspired, you know? Just hearing this gave me some amazing ideas of how I could incorporate it into stuff that, you know, regular ponies would like.”

“I... see. Very well, what actions did you take in order to facilitate your newfound muse?”

“Well, once things had calmed down, I went outside and talked to them. They said they were trying to make their calliope play improvised background music on cue while they were making their sales pitches or something, but the spells they were using kept interfering with the sounds coming from the pipes. So I asked them what spells they were using, and they told me. Then I asked if it would be okay to use them myself, and they said they were cool with it. A few weeks later, I’d managed to modify them so they wouldn’t short out my synthesizers, and hey presto, dubstep is born.”

“And did my clients ever try to profit off of their innovative contributions to musicology?”

“Nah. They were fine with letting me take most of the credit. I even offered to let everypony know that it was their idea in the first place, but they turned me down. This is the first time I’ve actually told the story in public, in fact. Totally humble, you know?”

“So, would you say this speaks well of their moral character?”

“Definitely.”

“You have my sincerest thanks, Ms. Scratch.” Slim turned to Silver Spoon and smirked. “The witness is yours to question.”

Silver Spoon approached the witness, who didn’t seem too happy that she had to answer questions from the mare who had basically insulted her earlier in the trial. For her part, the attorney seemed quite eager to conclude her conversation with Vinyl Scratch as quickly as possible, as she jumped right into the meat of her counterargument. “Ms. Scratch, did you inform the defendants of what you intended to do with the spell?”

“Yes.” The laid-back tone of the DJ’s voice had vanished completely, giving the surprisingly distinct impression that there was an icy glare hiding behind her sunglasses.

“Did they express any interest in your idea?”

“Not really.”

“Did they give you any assistance when you were adapting the spell for your synthesizers?”

“No, they’d already left town.”

“And during the initial composing stages? Did they provide you with any advice or feedback on how you were applying the spell to popular music?”

“No. I just said that they’d left town.”

“What about after your rise to prominence? Did they seek any help in using those techniques on their calliope?”

“If they had, I’m fairly certain they would have made a more accessible remix than the one they just played.”

“So, it was your idea to use their spells to make music, it was you who put forth the effort necessary to adapt the spells, and you were the only pony who tried to figure out how the spells could be used in a musical context. What exactly was it that they provided?”

“Uh, if they hadn’t had an accident, I’d have never gotten the idea.”

“Precisely—it was an accident, and furthermore, it was one they disowned almost immediately. What that means, Ms. Scratch, is that according to Equestrian patent law, you are the sole inventor of ‘wubs,’ not the defendants. It seems likely that their motivation for not claiming any role has less to due with humility than the fact that, from a legal perspective, they wouldn’t have had a leg to stand on, no matter what depths of ‘creativity’ their attorney might be willing to stoop to.”

Apparently, Vinyl didn’t realize that Silver Spoon had thrown in a thinly veiled insult at the defendants’ counsel, since she didn’t bother joining in the hushed whispering that resulted. Instead, she just shrugged. “I guess if you wanna be cynical, you could look at it that way. I still say they were important, and they still turned down any offers to let me publicize them. I just assumed that they didn’t want ponies associating them with music because it would take attention away from their cider. I mean, their cutie marks are apples, right?”

Silver Spoon let out a brief, frustrated breath. “That’s up to the Princess to determine. I have no further questions.”

Mara leaned back in her throne as she assessed the situation. Silver Spoon’s line of reasoning would have been fairly strong if she was defending Vinyl Scratch in an intellectual property dispute, but the DJ’s entire point had been the fact that no such dispute had ever materialized. Now, the effort she had made to have the unicorn disqualified made a lot more sense. Silver Spoon had known her argument was weak to begin with, and had (correctly) assumed that Mara’s pre-existing opinion of the defendants wouldn’t be enough to make it convincing. “You are dismissed, Ms. Scratch,” she spoke in the witness’ general direction. “Who’s up next?”

“Your Most Royal Majesty, the next pony to testify to the meritorious nature of my clients shall no doubt dazzle you with her insightfulness today as she dazzles crowds throughout Equestria with her performances. The defendants request the presence of The Great and Powerful Trixie Lulamoon before this Court.”

The usual murmurings from the crowd were a bit more animated than usual; apparently, there were many residents of Ponyville who still remembered the incident when the pale blue unicorn had attempted to make the town into her own personal fiefdom. Princess Mara, of course, was one of those residents, but she also knew full well that Trixie had been under the influence of the Alicorn Amulet at the time. In the immediate aftermath, the showmare had attempted to be more humble, and, at least in her personal life, had largely succeeded—only to discover that audiences loved the over-the-top braggadocio of her stage persona. It took her several years of trial and error, but eventually, Trixie managed to figure out how to make use of her persona without creating ill will. Essentially, she kept the “I can do anything better than you” schtick for the first part of her act, taking on improvised challenges until she was bested, which would mark the immediate transition to the “stuff I can do that you can’t” section, which these days consisted mainly of sleight-of-hoof and escapology rather than actual magic.

“Please state your name and occupation for the Court.”

“I am Trixie Lulamoon, a professional showmare.” Princess Mara silently thanked her Sisters that Trixie was referring to herself in the first person.

“And do you promise to tell the truth to the best of your ability?”

“Trixie shall.” Mara had to use all of her willpower to keep her from smacking her hoof into her forehead. She’d forgotten that the unicorn tended to switch between grammatical persons on a whim.

Merry May nodded and returned to her post. “You may proceed.”

Slim strode over to her witness. “Ms. Lulamoon, can you recall the precise moment when you first met my clients?”

“Trixie was first introduced to Flim and Flam by a mutual acquaintance soon after her graduation from Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. However, two years passed before our first significant interaction. That took place soon after Trixie’s first performance in Ponyville. Due to an inconvenient run-in with an Ursa Minor, Trixie was without a traveling cart.”

“Indeed? Would you mind explaining this ‘run-in’ in more detail?”

“Actually, I would mind. Besides that, there isn’t much point in expanding on it, as I believe Princess Mara witnessed most of the pertinent details for herself.”

“Very well. So, you found yourself without a cart. With neither a stage from which you could ply your trade nor shelter from the unforgiving elements, is it safe to say you were in dire straits at this point in time?”

“I don’t know how ‘dire’ they were, but my situation had left me feeling significantly less Great and Powerful than my stage persona. I thought I would have to walk back to Canterlot to ask my parents for help. They... never really approved of my decision to go into show business, and I was worried that they would insist that I enter the civil service, as they had done, as a condition for taking me back into their home. I found that idea less than appealing, to put it lightly. It was on my journey back that I met up with Flim and Flam.”

“And exactly how did this meeting occur?”

“Well, they were traveling with their mobile cider-making machine, the Super-Duper Easy-Squeezy Something-Or-Other when they noticed Trixie by the side of the road. Naturally, these fine gentlecolts were not about to allow such a fetching mare to fend for herself without offering assistance, and they asked Trixie if she needed transportation. Soon after Trixie agreed, they recognized her and requested that she relate her history to them, which eventually led to a more thorough explanation of her rather unfortunate circumstances.”

“Please relate to this Court their reaction to your most distressing predicament.”

“They expressed great concern at Trixie’s plight, and offered her a temporary job in order to help her get back on her hooves. It seems that they were having some difficulty making some modifications to a calliope, and, knowing of Trixie’s skill, they enlisted her help in return for food, lodging, and a reasonable hourly fee.”

Slim smiled, and turned to the Princess. “May it please the Court—”

“NO.”

Apparently, Slim had never encountered the Royal Canterlot Voice before, as it took her several seconds to straighten out her now-disheveled mane and formulate a response. “I... I beg your pardon?”

Mara pointed towards the calliope from Tartarus with one of her hooves as she explained: “If you’re asking me to accept another demonstration of that contraption as evidence, then my answer is ‘No, it does not please the Court.’ I don’t care how impressive it looks. The fact that your clients paid Trixie for her services is proof enough that the job was done.”

“Oh... of course. In that case, Ms. Lulamoon, did the financial compensation for your time and energy provide the seed money necessary to get you back on the road to stardom?”

“Indeed. Trixie was able to afford a down payment on a new cart, and thanks to her talent, she was soon able to pay it off... just in time for news about the Ursa Minor to spread....”

Apparently, Slim was in no mood to draw any attention to what her witness had mumbled under her breath. “I must thank you the gracious provision of your time, Ms. Lulamoon. I have no further questions, Your Most Royal Majesty.”

Silver Spoon appeared to be much more confident as she stood up to begin her second cross-examination of the day. She picked up a piece of paper in her mouth, walked over to the witness, and set it down in front of her. “Do you recognize the object in this drawing?”

The unicorn’s posture slumped almost immediately. “Yes. That would be the Alicorn Amulet.”

“Have you ever seen the genuine artifact?”

Trixie looked somewhat insulted at the notion that she would be asked to answer that particular question in Ponyville, of all places. “Is this really necessary?”

“Please answer my question, Ms. Lulamoon.”

The showmare sighed. “I was in possession of it for a brief period of time twelve years ago. In what I can only call a feverish bout of horrendously bad judgment, I purchased it from a curio shop in Vanhoover. I was unaware of its tendency to corrupt ponies who use it, and while under its influence, I did several things which I’m not particularly proud of. Again, this is an instance where I think Princess Mara’s firsthoof knowledge would make any further explanations on my part redundant.”

Silver Spoon nodded gravely. “How did you first learn of the Amulet’s existence?”

Trixie sighed and glanced apologetically at the defendants. “Flim and Flam told me about it in the course of a conversation we had.” This particular revelation caught the attention of everypony in the room, especially the Princess.

“I see. And how did it come up? Were you simply talking about jewelry?”

The showmare seemed extremely reluctant to answer the question, as if she was convinced that her audience would read far too much into her response. She wasn’t that far off. “No. I told them of my belief that my skill in magic far surpassed that of Twilight Sparkle, and that the only reason she was able to calm the Ursa Minor was because of her advantage in terms of raw magical power. They then informed me of the Alicorn Amulet and the power it was supposed to grant to ponies that used it.”

“Did they tell you anything else about it?”

“No. At the time, I was more interested in continuing my career as a showmare. It wasn’t until the rumors of my failure with the Ursa caught up with me, making it all but impossible for audiences to take me seriously, that I considered acquiring it for myself.”

“So you started searching for the Amulet?”

“Yes. Finding it was actually the easy part. The hard part was getting the money to pay for it. I ended up taking some rather... menial jobs.”

“Like rock farming?”

“It’s not that it isn’t a noble profession!” Trixie interjected defensively. “I was generously compensated—I simply found it to be dull, and I disliked the mandatory overtime. They never mentioned that I’d be working twelve-hour shifts when they hired me! And I should point out that I never informed F—”

Silver Spoon cut her off. “Did the defendants ever discuss their invention with you?”

“What? Oh, um, yes, they did. They were quite proud of it.”

“Was there any part of their cider-making device that came off as being particularly important to the process?”

“Uh, as a matter of fact, yes. The quality control system was supposed to be what allowed them to make cider so quickly, as it let them simply dump apples into the machine while sorting out any debris and low-quality fruit.”

“Sounds like that would require sophisticated detection magic.”

“It did. They were singularly pleased with their accomplishments in this regard.”

“I’d imagine they would have done extensive testing, in that case.”

“I would assume so... they didn’t go into that much detail.” Trixie seemed unsure where this line of questioning was headed.

“Really? They never mentioned finding anything interesting during the testing phase?”

“No.”

“Then you may find this interesting.” Silver Spoon walked back to her table and returned with a slip of paper. “May it please the Court, the plaintiff would like to submit as evidence this receipt from the ‘Lost Oddity Antique & Frogurt Shop.’”

Trixie’s eyes widened as Mara looked over the slip of paper. “I’ll accept this,” the Princess said as she passed the receipt to the unicorn.

Silver Spoon smiled. “Ms. Lulamoon, are you familiar with that shop?”

“Yes... it’s where I got the Amulet...”

“And did the owner tell you where he got it?”

“No. But... but this says....”

“What does it say?”

“It says he bought it from a pair of anonymous twin unicorns.”

“That’s how he described them? As ‘twins’? No other distinguishing features?”

“Er... there’s a note here that says that... that one of them had a large mustache... and that both had apple cutie marks.” As the noise level of the room increased with shocked conversation, Silver Spoon took the receipt and handed it back to the Princess.

“I would like to specifically call the Court’s attention to the note at the bottom of the owner’s record, where he wrote a reminder to double-check the sellers’ claims before putting the item on sale. In other words, our ‘mysterious’ twins knew that they were in possession of the Alicorn Amulet, and, considering the price they extracted from him, had no doubt done extensive research to determine its value. I think it is quite likely that they knew it was powerful, and they knew it would corrupt ponies who used it, otherwise they would have used it themselves. But apparently, it did not occur to them that a pony who was desperate to become more powerful might be willing to ignore such dangers.”

“B-but, I wasn’t obsessed with power when they told me about it!”

“Ah! So you do believe that Mr. Flim and Mr. Flam were the sellers mentioned on the receipt, then?”

Trixie suddenly realized that she’d walked right into a trap. “I... I suppose so....” She slumped down in her chair, looking utterly defeated.

“Do you care to revise your statement on the defendants’ moral character?”

“I... I don’t. Flim and Flam helped Trixie out when she needed it the most. And I know as well as anypony that nopony is perfect.”

Silver Spoon smiled deviously. “Well, you are entitled to your personal opinion. I have no further questions.”

Mara looked over at the witness, who appeared to be quite downcast. “You’re dismissed, Ms. Lulamoon.” As the showmare walked back to her seat, the Princess asked, “Ms. Slim, does the defense have any more witnesses to call?”

“Just one, Your Most Royal Majesty.”

For the first time since the trial started, the Princess looked somewhat relieved. Thank Mara, it’s finally going to end. “Go ahead, then.”

“The final witness here today to attest to the strength of my clients’ moral fortitude grew up in this very town, but, thanks in no small part to the intervention of my clients, was able to overcome years of accumulated self-esteem issues to become one of the most celebrated chefs in Equestria today. The defendants request the presence of Truffle Shuffle before this Court.”

A grey earth pony with a dark brown mane pulled into a tight ponytail lumbered towards the witness stand. He was wearing a white chef’s coat and carrying a lot of extra body fat on his otherwise-normal frame, but it wasn’t until Mara saw his knife-and-fork cutie mark that she recognized the stallion as one of Apple Bloom’s former classmates.

“State your name and occupation for the Court, please,” Merry May said.

“My name is Truffle Shuffle, and I’m the executive chef at Rhododendron in Baltimare.”

“And do you promise to tell the truth to the best of your ability?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you. You may proceed.”

Slim walked towards the husky witness with a smile on her face. “Mr. Shuffle, you spent most of your foalhood here in Ponyville, correct?”

“Yes. I moved away soon after I graduated from school.”

“And was this due to some sort of emotional trauma that could scourge the memory of such an idyllic place as this?”

“Well, I suppose it could have been worse. I mean, my parents loved me, and it was a relatively safe place to grow up. Well, when it wasn’t being overrun by parasprites or Pinkie Pies or Discord, I guess. But... well, I’ve always been a bit... um, chunky, so ended up getting teased and picked on a lot. Especially by those two,” the chef added, glaring as he pointed to Diamond Tiara and her attorney.

“Mr. Shuffle,” Mara said with an audible groan, “you aren’t here to accuse the plaintiff of anything. Just stick to telling me about the defendants.”

For some reason, Slim seemed to be mildly put off by this pronouncement, but she continued with her questioning. “Could you please elucidate the manner in which you came to know the fine ponies whom I am now representing?”

“Well, it happened about a year after Princess Mara’s coronation. I was walking home from school, feeling really miserable because somepony suggested that I was a cross between a humpback whale and a stale marshmallow, and that I wouldn’t ever be able to get a job doing anything except for liposuctioning off my excess fat to make soap. I was feeling pretty bad—not exactly suicidal, mind you, but I was seriously considering stopping by Sugarcube Corner to try out the new double-deep-fried Chimicherrychanga, which I’d heard might be fattening enough to cause a heart attack.

“I was just about to make a detour there, when I heard two stallions arguing about something in the distance. I walked over to a grove of trees, and there they were, arguing over this large barrel that said ‘Umamix’ on the side. I was going to leave them alone, but one of them—the one with the moustache—spotted me and called me over.”

“And what exactly did he say to you?”

“Uh, he said I looked like a pony who appreciated good food.... I sort of broke down sobbing there.”

“Perfectly understandable, of course. How did my clients react? Did they laugh at your pain, like two petty, vindictive schoolfillies?”

“No. They tried to cheer me up. The one with the moustache introduced himself as Flam, and he said that he and his brother Flim had accidentally purchased a large supply of a particular spice mix that wouldn’t work in their cider, and they were having difficulty getting rid of it. He said that he assumed that because I ate a lot of food, I had some interest in making it, and that Umamix could make nearly any dish taste better, as long as there wasn’t too much sugar in it. They gave me some in a small bag and told me to go home and try it out.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah. I made a rhododendron salad, added the Umamix, and served it to my parents. They loved it! The next day, I went back, and they gave me the whole barrel. I spent the next few weeks experimenting, until I figured out the exact proportions of Umamix to use to make each dish as savory as possible. I even started inventing my own. Soon after that, there was a cooking contest at the town hall, and even though I was the only contestant who wasn’t an adult, I still won the whole thing. I’d finally found a purpose in life beyond simply eating food: I was going to be a chef. As soon as I graduated, I moved to Canterlot and enrolled in the Culinary Institute of Equestria. Then, I started working my way up in the business, until I was finally able to open my own restaurant in Baltimare, which I named after my first salad. It was recently given the highest possible rating by one of the leading magazines in the industry.”

“So, would you say that my clients were a positive influence on your life, then?”

“Definitely. Thanks to them, I don’t feel self-conscious about my weight. Even though I’ve never been able to get it to come off, I know that I’m special and that I’m worthwhile as a pony, and they have my eternal gratitude for making my life better in every conceivable way.”

“Thank you, Mr. Shuffle. I have no further questions.”

Silver Spoon stood up and walked over to the chef, who was glaring daggers at her. “Mr. Shuffle,” she began, “when you say that you’ve ‘never been able to get it to come off,’ I presume that means that you have attempted to employ diet and exercise regimens in an effort to lose your excess weight?”

The attorney had chosen her words very carefully, but they didn’t exactly have the desired effect. “Oh, for Luna’s sake! It was bad enough when you made fun of me when we were foals, but you have to do it now, too?”

“Mr. Shuffle, I assure that I meant no insult, and that your answer is quite pertinent to the matter at hoof,” the grey mare said as politely as she could.

Truffle Shuffle acquiesced, though he continued his glare. “I’ve made multiple attempts over the years, though it’s not easy, since I have to taste the food that I make as part of my job.”

Silver Spoon nodded. “Do you still use Umamix in your recipes today?”

“Of course,” the chef replied, though he was a bit surprised by the look of concern that passed over Flim’s face as he answered.

“Can you tell the Court exactly what it contains?”

“Not really. I import it from Neighpon, and the brand name ‘Umamix’ is the only writing on the packaging that uses Equestrian characters. However, I’m confident that it’s safe for pony consumption.”

Silver Spoon smiled. “Would you care to find out what it contains?”

“Do you know?”

“As a matter of fact, I do, thanks to the defendants. You see, before my client made her ill-fated investment in their enterprise, Mr. Flim and Mr. Flam gave her copies of the rather extensive documentation of their previous endeavors, to serve as proof of what we now know to be a nonexistent work ethic. This included a rather large file on the development of their cider recipe. As it turns out, they did indeed attempt to use Umamix to add an earthy tone to the flavor of their cider, and what’s more, they were quite successful. However, upon performing further tests of their cider’s chemical composition, they noticed something... odd. Tell me, are you familiar with Magical Sodium Glutamate?”

“MSG? Yeah, they mentioned that in culinary school. When used in moderation, it’s quite good at enhancing flavors.”

“Why only in moderation?”

“Well, for one thing, if you let the MSG overpower all the other flavors, the result is almost never palatable. For another, eating too much of it can cause excessive weight... gain....” Truffle Shuffle’s eyes widened as his voice trailed off.

Silver Spoon strolled back to her table and retrieved another file from her briefcase. “May it please the Court, the plaintiff would like to submit as evidence this copy of the defendants’ notes regarding their Umamix-enhanced cider formula.”

Mara briefly scanned over a few pages before nodding. “I’ll accept it. Continue your questioning.”

Truffle Shuffle, for his part, was still staring straight ahead, as if the neurons in his brain had elected to go on strike rather than process the information they had just received. “...effects of MSG?”

The chef blinked as the end of Silver Spoon’s question penetrated the fog in his mind. “Uh, come again?”

“Given that the defendants work in the processed food industry, would you say it’s reasonable to assume that they were fully aware of the effects of MSG?”

“I... I guess they would have to be. But... but nopony knows what’s actually in Umamix, right?”

“The evidence suggests that they used the process of elimination to deduce that the MSG in their cider came from that additive. Now, as you mentioned, when used in moderation, the effects of Magical Sodium Glutamate are so negligible that they’re hardly worth making a fuss over. Even the occasional high-MSG dish won’t have a noticeable effect if a pony has a reasonably healthy lifestyle, but, as you said, your job requires you to taste the food that you’re preparing, which means that you’ve been ingesting significant quantities of it on a daily basis for nearly twelve years. Thus, the reason I asked if you’d exercised: I would like to get some tips from you after the trial, because the fact that you are merely overweight right now as opposed to being morbidly obese means that it must be one of the best routines in the history of ponykind.”

“But... but I was already fat! Why wouldn’t they tell me it could have gotten me fatter?”

Silver Spoon shrugged. “If I could read minds, I wouldn’t have bothered to go to law school. I’m tempted to suggest that they thought it would be funny to see a chubby colt get even chubbier, but the more likely answer is that they needed to get rid of their remaining Umamix, and you were the most convenient way to do that. In other words, they just plain didn’t care.”

Truffle Shuffle had been staring at the floor for several minutes now, but as Silver Spoon finished talking, his body began shaking noticably. When he finally raised his head, his face was contorted in rage, and his next pronouncement was directed not at the plaintiff’s attorney, but at the defendants. “You... you made me fat! You monsters!” The portly chef had risen from his chair, knocking it over, and had started advancing towards the defendants’ table.

“Order! Order!” Mara called out as she rapped her hoof on her throne, but Truffle Shuffle didn’t seem to hear it. He seemed intent on taking out a dozen years of frustration on the twin unicorns, and it was only the timely intervention of Merry May that kept the confrontation from becoming physical. “Order! Mr. Shuffle, if you don’t sit down, I will cite you for contempt of Court! Now get back in that chair and finish answering Ms. Spoon’s questions!”

Reluctantly, the chef did as he was told, but the snarling look he gave to the FlimFlam brothers continued unabated.

“Mr. Shuffle, would you care to make any amendments to your testimony?”

“Yeah... I take it back! All of it! Those are two of the worst ponies in all of Equestria, and if they spend eternity burning in Tartarus, it’ll be too good for them! They’re horrible scumbags who haven’t got an honest bone in their bodies—in fact, they’re probably wearing cardboard horns right now!”

Gasps rose from the crowd as the insult filtered into the ears of impressionable foals, and it was now the defendants’ turn to rise in anger. As they began going through the motions of several obscene gestures at the impudent earth pony who would dare to question the integrity of their horns, parents who had taken their offspring to witness Equestrian civics in action began rushing for the door. “I have no further questions, Your Majesty,” Silver Spoon shouted above the rapidly rising din.

Mara’s royal hoof slammed into her armrest. “Order! Order! Dammit, this Court will come to order, or I’ll—” But at that moment, Slim accidentally bumped into the calliope, which suddenly began playing a noise that Vinyl Scratch later christened “Air Raid Siren on a G String.”

Princess Mara had had enough. Summoning her magical abilities, she lifted the machine into the air, and without bothering to put forth the necessary effort to restrain herself, crushed it into a ball of twisted metal and steam the size of an apple before hurling it out of her throne room, smashing a stained glass window depicting an ornate second-place ribbon in the process. “This Court is adjourned,” she announced, but given that half of the spectators had left, this was essentially stating what was already obvious.

—————

“Consarn it, Merry May! Gimme that bottle!”

Applejack’s seneschal, however, refused to let go of the bottle of precious alcohol. “Sorry, Princess, but if you have too much more, you’ll be too drunk to formulate your opinion.”

“That’s the idea! Now fork it over!”

“AJ, it’s not a good idea to get in the habit of drinking to relieve stress.”

“Dammit, Merry, I’m immortal! My liver can take it. Besides, if I’m hammered when I make up my mind, that oughta be reason enough for Celestia and Luna to convene the Royal Court. Why should I be the only Princess who suffers through this crap?”

Merry May slowly shook her head. She knew the Princess only wanted to vent her frustrations to somepony else. If she had really wanted the bottle of applejack, she could have easily wrested it away with her magic. “Come on, Applejack. You know that a hangover is only going to make tomorrow worse.”

The palomino alicorn sighed. “Yeah... I s’pose y’all are right about that one.” She stared at the long, overcrowded shelves of her personal law library. After all the craziness that had happened today, she had a lot of precedents to research. “Might as well get started. I gotta long night ahead of me.”

Chapter 4: The Final Accusation

Applejack groaned as the clock on the wall chimed for the fifth time. This had to be one of the most miserable nights she’d ever experienced. She had spent hours literally burning the midnight oil as she pored over her legal texts, searching for anything that could give her some idea of how to handle this whole mess. Inevitably, though, judges in similar situations had resorted to passing the buck to somepony else, and she couldn’t find any instance in the past millennium when Celestia had needed to make such a judgement call.

Speaking of whom, the night sky outside was beginning to lighten in preparation for the sunrise. Applejack leaned back and glanced over the scroll where she’d scribbled down the few ideas she’d been able to come up with. Granted, she still had plenty of time before her decision was expected—the Ducal Court was not scheduled to reconvene until mid-afternoon—but as inspiration wasn’t cooperating with her, she was seriously considering postponing it until the next day. Then again, in her experience, putting things off rarely helped solve any problem, and it didn’t seem like this would be any exception.

The Princess was attempting to remember if she and the other Bearers of Harmony had actually had any wacky misadventures in procrastination from which she could glean valuable life lessons when the door to her study suddenly opened. “Good morning, Applejack.”

The palomino alicorn smiled as her seneschal walked through the door. “Mornin’, Merry. You’re in early. Need some overtime pay?”

The pegasus laughed in response. “No, I just figured you might want to talk to an underling who’s actually brave enough to refer to you by your birth name today.”

Applejack sighed and nodded. She liked the stallion who stood watch outside whatever room she happened to be in each night, but he wasn’t much of a conversationalist. “Beats goin’ through more books lookin’ for answers that probably ain’t there.”

“But doesn’t that make your job easier? If there’s no precedents, you can just use your own judgment, right?”

The Princess snorted derisively. “Honestly, I’d rather have some guidelines to help me make my decision than blaze a new trail. Not only is it easier for me, it’s less likely to get folks in a tizzy. That’s sort of the whole point behind precedents.”

Merry May looked confused. “Is this decision really that tough?”

Applejack nodded. “It would be tough enough even without taking into account the fact that I already knew that this was basically a suit between a stuck-up twit and a pair of fast-talkin’ hucksters.”

“I get the part about Flim and Flam, but is it really fair to judge Diamond Tiara based on how she acted as a filly?”

“Oh, this has nothin’ ta do with how she treated Apple Bloom. This is about Zap Apples.”

“You know, I was wondering about that. Why did she want to make artificial Zap Apple Jam in the first place?”

“Cuz we stopped sellin’ it to her.”

“Why?”

“I refer you back to my description of her as a ‘stuck-up twit.’”

“Come on, AJ, I can tell there’s a story behind this.”

“Yeah, there is, an’ maybe if y’all ask real nicely, Apple Bloom will tell it to ya sometime.”

“You mean you weren’t there?”

“No, I mean I ain’t gonna talk about it.”

Merry May raised an eyebrow. “Am I going to have to start using your title to get you to cooperate?” she asked.

“You wouldn’t dare!”

The pegasus leaned forward with a sly grin on her face. “Indeed I would, Your Serene Immortal Highness of Equestria, Daughter of Harmony and Wellspring of the Harvest, Benefactress of the Herd, Bearer of Honesty, Duchess of Ponyville, Appleloosa, and the Southern Expanse, Queen of the Fertile Valleys, the Very High and Very Powerful Princess Mara.”

“Seriously, Merry, don’t.”

“But, Your Serene Immortal Highness of Equestria, Daughter of Harmony and Wellspring of the Harvest, Benefactress of the Herd, Bearer of Honesty, Duchess of Ponyville, Appleloosa, and the Southern Expanse, Queen of the Fertile Valleys, the Very High and Very Powerful Princess Mara, it’s only right and proper that I use your full title. After all, your status conveys a certain sense of dignity, and as the personal seneschal of Her Serene Immortal Highness of Equestria, Daughter of Harmony and Wellspring of the Harvest, Benefactress of the Herd, Bearer of Honesty—”

“Alright! Alright! You win. I’ll tell y’all what happened.”

The pegasus smiled in victory as she sat down in a nearby chair to hear her Princess’ tale. Applejack began, “Well, the whole thing started after Filthy Rich died. He’d spent years cultivating a good workin’ relationship with Sweet Apple Acres, but apparently, he never got around to explainin’ to his daughter that you can’t take a business relationship for granted. It must have been about three or four months after she took over as CEO of Rich Enterprises that she learned that the hard way.”

“Three or four months?” Merry took a few seconds to mentally review what she’d heard over the past few days. “That’s right before she proposed the new hospital wing, right?”

“I believe so, but I don’t think the hospital has anything to do with what happened. Anyway, it was right before the Zap Apple harvest was due to begin—I know, because Big Mac had just hired some temporary help, on account of I was too busy with royal functions, and I’d already asked the Zap Apple trees to push back the harvest date twice. I was gettin’ ready to make a diplomatic visit to Zebrica at the time. I think y’all had gone ahead to make security arrangements, which is why you weren’t around when Diamond Tiara strolled into the farmhouse an’ demanded that we renegotiate the price of our Zap Apple Jam.”

“Why’d she do that? Was she looking for sympathy or something?”

“That was my first guess, but it was pretty clear after a few minutes that she wasn’t tryin’ to be all that sympathetic. Her lines were so well rehearsed that I got the impression that she’d had this idea for a while, but it was only now that she was in charge of her company that she had the chance to go through with it.”

“Okay, so... what did she want?”

“She wanted us to lower our prices.”

“Uh, that doesn’t seem too bad. I mean, don’t most ponies want lower prices on the things they buy?”

“Yeah, but I’m willin’ to bet that most ponies don’t expect sellers to price their goods so low that they can’t make a profit.”

“What?!”

“You heard me. Diamond Tiara said that since my royal stipend more than covered our expenses, there was no reason for us to charge her any more than the cost of production on the jam.”

“She wanted Sweet Apple Acres to become a nonprofit corporation?”

“You could say that. In fact, if she’d stopped there, she might have had a good point. The problem was, she also wanted us to maintain our previous business relationship, which was a nice way of sayin’ that she still wanted Rich’s Barnyard Bargains to be the sole distributor of Zap Apple Jam. But if we’d done that, the Equestrian government would have ended up indirectly subsidizing her business.”

“She wasn’t willing to lower her prices as well?”

“Actually, it wouldn’t have mattered. You see, changin’ the price of Zap Apple Jam ain’t gonna change its market value. And when y’all sell somethin’ for less than it’s actually worth to your customers, you end up with a shortage, because the lower prices mean more customers, but that don’t mean you can just increase the supply. We used to run into this problem for years with our cider business when Granny Smith was still in charge. She refused to raise prices over the years, since she thought that would be price gougin’, since we’d just be earnin’ extra profit without doin’ any extra work. The result was a crazy long line, and a lot of thirsty, unsatisfied customers.”

“Um, yeah, I remember waiting in those lines myself,” Merry replied, her tone indicating that she wasn’t exactly sure where her Princess was going with this.

“But,” Applejack continued, “if there was a crazy long line for Zap Apple Jam at Rich’s Barnyard Bargains, those customers would be spending time in her store, lookin’ at all her other products. The ones that couldn’t get their hooves on any jam would probably be tempted to buy somethin’ else as a consolation, which means more bits in Diamond Tiara’s cash register. So really, either way, she profits.”

“And she actually told you all this?”

“No, but Big Macintosh figured it out almost immediately and called her out on it. That’s when she tried playin’ the sympathy card, which is why I think that causin’ a jam shortage was her original plan, though obviously I can’t prove it.”

Merry May winced. “Let me guess: she tried to claim that doing what she wanted would honor the memories of Filthy Rich and Granny Smith.”

“Pretty much, only worse.”

“How?”

“Well, you have to understand that Diamond Tiara has always seen us primarily as ‘Apple Bloom’s family.’ I mean, she does show me respect, but she doesn’t respect me as a pony so much as she respects ‘Princess Mara’ as an abstract concept. As a result, she got in the habit of assumin’ that what was true for Apple Bloom was true for me an’ Big Mac. Now, she knew that our parents had died before Apple Bloom was old enough to remember them, but somehow she forgot that my brother and I are a lot older. So, when she told us, and I quote: ‘You don’t really know what it’s like to lose a parent!’ Big Mac got, well, upset. An’ when Mac’s upset, he stops holdin’ back his opinions. Pretty much told her that she was a spoiled, self-centered brat who thought that the world owed her an easy life, plus a few choice words I don’t care to repeat.”

“Ouch,” Merry said. “You have to choose between her and two ponies who tried to snatch your home away from you by exploiting Granny Smith’s stubbornness? No wonder it’s hard.”

“Don’t I know it. Anyway, Sweet Apple Acres took over the distribution of Zap Apple Jam soon afterwards.”

“And that’s why she wanted to make a knock-off,” the pegasus said. “Well, that, or it’s why the FlimFlam Brothers were able to convince her to finance one.”

“That’s the sort of thing that can wait for the inquisition,” Applejack replied, staring out her window as Celestia’s Sun began to crack into the horizon. “Right now, I gotta decide which side’s gonna get it easy from here on out.”

Merry May laughed. “Maybe you should just rule in favor of the FlimFlams on the grounds that it’s Diamond Tiara’s fault that there’s even an issue to sue over.”

Applejack joined in with a chuckle of her own. “I don’t reckon ‘She started it’ is gonna go over too well in Court.” The laughter continued for a few seconds more. It was an entertaining notion, but there was no way it could work. Princess Mara was going to be creating a new precedent here, which meant that she had to use logic that could actually be applied to almost every case in every docket in Equestria. It wasn’t as though there was an easy way to determine who was responsible for the existence of a lawsuit... or was there?

“Applejack? Are you okay? You’ve got that ‘deep thought’ look on your face.” When this didn’t seem to work, the pegasus tried more drastic measures. “Your Serene Immortal Highness...”

The Princess blinked a few times as her seneschal’s voice penetrated her concentration. “Huh? Oh, uh, yeah. Say, Merry, d’ya mind if I had some time alone? I need to think about some things....”

––––––––––

Mara’s throne room was filled to capacity that afternoon, to the point that several dozen ponies had to be turned away lest they violate the fire code. There were several reasons for this. For one thing, the Princess was expected to announce a key ruling in a case that had received a lot of attention in the Equestrian news media, so there were quite a few reporters present. For another, there were more than a few scholars who believed that this ruling might create important new precedents, so many of those same reporters had brought along legal experts who could explain possible implications of the ruling to them in time for them to meet their deadlines. However, the main reason that there were so many observers that day was the possibility that today’s proceedings would feature an even bigger spectacle of jurisprudence gone haywire. Indeed, many had come prepared with safety gear, hard hats, and earplugs just in case things got totally out of control.

Diamond Tiara was looking around the room with an uneasy expression on her face as she sat in her chair. One couldn’t say that she looked nervous, but neither did she exude confidence. Silver Spoon sat beside her, her countenance as stony as it had been since the trial’s commencement. Their counterparts at the defendants’ table seemed to be in higher spirits, but a closer inspection would give the distinct impression that the jokes and laughter that Flim and Flam were exchanging with their sister were meant to distract from their actual emotions, rather than conveying them. It seemed that all of the trial’s participants had been seized by a vague, gnawing uncertainty that would only be resolved once the Princess had made her pronouncement.

Eventually, Merry May walked into the room, signaling that that resolution was drawing near. “All rise. The High Court of the Duchy of Ponyville is now in session. Her Serene Immortal Highness Princess Mara, Duchess of Ponyville, Appleloosa, and the Southern Expanse, presiding.”

Mara slowly ascended the dais and sat in her oaken throne. She let out a long, slow breath before she began speaking. “Be seated. We have heard testimony from both sides of the grievance between Diamond Tiara and FlimFlam Brothers, Inc., and we have made a decision which will determine which participant has the burden of proof in the forthcoming inquiry. Today’s session will, unfortunately, have to be abbreviated due to our other duties, so this Court will adjourn immediately after we conclude our remarks.”

The Princess took another breath. The formalized part of the day’s proceedings was over; she no longer had to keep using the majestic plural. “I must begin by noting that on the basis of the testimonies provided, it was very difficult for me to reach any sort of decision. This is in no small part due to the performance of both the plaintiff’s and the defendants’ counsels, who have demonstrated remarkable skill and shrewdness in their efforts to tear opposing testimonies to shreds, whether through Ms. Slim’s strategy of twisting all of Ms. Tiara’s actions to make them look self-serving, or Ms. Spoon’s valiant attempts to convince each of the defendants’ witnesses to recant their testimonies, allowing her client to win the accusation phase by default. I feel that congratulations are in order for both of you, as you have met and exceeded the usual expectations I hold for lawyers in general.”

Both attorneys appeared to be distinctly uncomfortable after listening to Mara’s damnation via faint praise, which suited the Princess just fine. “Okay, on to business. First, the good news: neither Diamond Tiara nor the FlimFlam Brothers are complete monsters who heap shame and disgrace upon the whole of ponykind through their continued existence. Indeed, although their motives are sometimes questionable, the testimonies have shown beyond a doubt that all of them are willing to help out other ponies who are in trouble, and since I personally think actions are more important than intentions, that’s saying a lot.”

The Princess paused for a few seconds to let this sink in before continuing. “The bad news is that intentions still do count for something, and in that regard, neither the plaintiff nor the defendants come off as being particularly admirable. On the one hoof, Diamond Tiara strikes me as being incredibly self-centered, and her acts of goodwill seem to be motivated by a desire to feel good about herself or to advertise the fact that she isn’t the spoiled brat that everypony thinks she is. On the other hoof, Flim and Flam don’t seem to honestly care about anypony else. They never intentionally initiate their own acts of goodwill, nor do they bother to make sure that they’re actually helping those who receive their charity. Their callous irresponsibility makes it difficult to classify their actions as ‘good deeds;’ a more appropriate term would be ‘fortunate mistakes.’

“Or, to put it succinctly: I’ve concluded that all three of you are massive jerks, charlatans, scalawags, shallow reprobates, and/or just plain rotten to the core. By all rights, I should be trying to figure out a way to declare that all of you are losers... which you are, but only in the general sense of being worse than nearly every pony, donkey, mule, zebra, or griffon who doesn’t have a criminal record. In a legal context, unfortunately, I’m obliged to declare that somepony is the ‘winner.’” Mara paused for dramatic effect, which seemed to be effective, given that several audience members took the opportunity to strap on their headgear.

“Anyway, after wasting a solid night’s sleep looking over every legal precedent I could find, I think I’ve found a way to do it. I’m going to start by declaring that the testimonies provided during the accusation phase are utterly inconclusive. Both the plaintiff and the defendants are willing to do the right thing on occasion, but the cross-examinations revealed a tendency for both to do so for the wrong reasons. Now, there is ample precedent that allows for jurists to incorporate their own personal knowledge of the participants when making judgments in the accusation phase. Quite frankly, I suspect that both parties were ultimately hoping that I disliked the other party more.” The chagrined looks on the attorneys’ faces suggested that this particular barb had hit uncomfortably close to home.

“Well, I suppose there’s no sense in pretending otherwise: I dislike all three of you on a personal level, and it’s my firm belief that the fact that I couldn’t find a way to recuse myself from this case has exposed a flaw in the Equestrian legal system that my Sisters and I will need to address in the near future. In the meantime, that still means that the accusation phase is inconclusive, because the idea that any of you might be more ‘likable’ than the others makes me nauseous.” At this, Flam yawned widely, while Flim started doodling on a pad of paper. Apparently, the twin unicorns had anticipated a dressing down, and their reaction was one of stupefied boredom. Diamond Tiara, meanwhile... well, much to Mara’s surprise, the pink earth pony actually appeared to be troubled by what was being said, though whether her expression was one of remorse or denial was impossible to determine.

The Princess continued, “Thus, it is my belief that there exist no precedents that I can use as a guide, so I’ll have to fall back on ‘doing what seems right.’ And in this case, what seems right is to take my cue from our criminal trial system, where the burden of proof lies on the prosecution, who are the ones who actually initiate the process. Therefore, I have decided to place the burden of proof on the plaintiff, as none of the court costs and legal fees associated with this case would even exist had she not made the decision to sue the defendants in the first place.”

As expected, Flim and Flam reacted quite positively to this pronouncement; the euphoric smiles on their faces suggested that they were just barely managing to resist the temptation to break into song. Similarly, their lawyer was grinning smugly, as if this outcome was a direct result of her legal prowess. The plaintiff’s table, meanwhile, was much more subdued. Diamond Tiara simply stared at her hooves with blank expression on her face while her attorney began jotting down notes—presumably, her mind had already moved on to the next phase of the trial. Of course, several animated conversations broke out amongst that fraction of spectators who had been all but certain that the businessmare would avoid the burden of proof, but all in all, it was a far better reaction than the Princess had anticipated.

Mara rapped her hoof on the armrest. “Order!” Once the spectators had quieted down, she spoke again, this time with a smile on her face. “I have an additional announcement to make. Now, the reason I’ve had to make this seemingly arbitrary decision is because the accusation was deemed inconclusive. However, as a result of my research, I have come to the conclusion that the accusation process hinges on the subjective opinion of the presiding jurist, which in turn means that it is left to the jurist’s discretion whether or not character testimonials are ‘conclusive’ in the first place.”

The Princess paused and took a deep breath; in all likelihood, what she was about to say would end up causing quite a stir. “Well, I happen to think that an inherently subjective process like accusation has absolutely no place in the search for justice, and, therefore, I intend to treat all future accusations in my Court as being as inconclusive as this one, and will therefore be placing the burden of proof on the plaintiff in every civil trial I judge from here on out, and I strongly encourage every other jurist in Equestria to do the same.”

The silence that followed lasted for nearly thirty seconds as the audience tried to work out the implications of the Princess’ statement. Then, a huge cacophony erupted as every lawyer in the throne room began loudly protesting the sudden and completely unwarranted decision to discard more than one thousand years of legal tradition and all of the associated precedents and billable hours that came with it. Mara rapped a hoof on the armrest and the court quieted down. “I understand that this will mean major changes to the legal profession, which is why I have prepared the following advice.” The Princess levitated a scroll out from behind her throne, unrolled it, and cleared her throat before continuing: “It is the official recommendation of the Lady of the Soil that all ponies in the legal profession who are dissatisfied with her recent decision shut their traps and just deal with it, cuz I ain’t gonna be changin’ my mind on this’n for nopony. Court’s adjourned, y’all.”

––––––––––

“I must say, Applejack, you’ve certainly caused a stir in the last week.”

The Earth goddess chuckled at the understatement. “Well, thank you kindly, Celestia. That’s exactly what I was hopin’ for.” In the wake of the controversy surrounding the case, both of her Royal Sisters had taken it upon themselves to pay a visit to the World Tree to discuss the aftermath.

Luna was a bit more wistful than her older Sibling: “Of course, given how exciting your announcement was, it seems a shame that the denouement was so anticlimactic.”

“I really don’t care if it was anticlimactic,” Applejack replied. “Wakin’ up the next mornin’ to learn that the case had been settled is the best possible endin’ to that mess imaginable. I got to skip the whole inquisition, and I didn’t even hafta render a verdict.”

“And yet the newspapers are saying that it was the defendants who compensated the plaintiff, even though you ruled in their favor. Do you not find this odd?”

Applejack eyed Luna with mild confusion. “Why would I?”

“Well, it seems to suggest that Ms. Tiara would indeed have been able to prove her case, or else they would not have paid her. Yet were that the case, I would not have expected her attorney to have put so much effort into the accusation phase.”

“Oh, well, that’s easy enough to explain. Ya see, they only offered her 15,000 bits, which is less than five percent of what she was askin’ for in damages. I’m guessin’ that the FlimFlams didn’t really care all that much about winnin’, an’ they just wanted to put this whole matter behind ’em as soon as they could. Since they likely didn’t think Diamond Tiara could actually prove anything, they just offered her a way to cut her losses while still savin’ some face, and the fact that Diamond Tiara accepted the offer probably means she really couldn’t have proven it.”

“So, who was actually at fault?”

“How am I s’posed ta know?” Applejack asked rhetorically. “I didn’t get around to the inquiry.”

“But are you not at least somewhat curious?”

“Not enough to want to spend any more of my time thinkin’ about those ponies. Besides, that ain’t why yer here, and you know it.”

Celestia nodded. “Indeed, your decision to completely abandon the accusation process has far more wide-reaching implications than the scope of this squabble. Are you certain you can handle the blowback?”

“Are you sayin’ that you two disagree with me?”

“No, but—”

“Then it don’t matter,” Applejack said. “If neither of you is gonna be an obstacle, then handlin’ the consequences will be a snap.”

“I’d caution against overconfidence, Applejack,” Celestia said in her gravest tone of voice. “Ponies in the legal profession are not going to be happy—and to answer the question that you’re probably forming in your mind right now, yes, they can be an effective obstacle. Remember, lawyers make up the majority of the legislature, and you’d be surprised what creative lawyers can do when they’re angry.”

“Celestia, one of those ‘creative lawyers’ turned a calliope into a weapon of mass distraction in the middle of my throne room. Besides, this is gonna be worth the trouble it brings.”

“But what if they convince the general public that you are in the wrong?” Luna asked. “After all, the accusation process has always been portrayed as a means for the virtuous poor to seek justice within the legal system. No matter how powerful you are, it is extremely difficult to rule over a disgruntled populace.”

“Like I said in Court, accusation is inherently subjective, and justice oughta be as objective as possible. Besides, the way I see it, even though it might be more difficult for less fortunate ponies to bring cases against rich ones, this also means that the rich can’t just sue the poor an’ rely on their better reputations, either. Also, ditchin’ accusation means that lawyers ain’t gonna waste time or resources on it, which means that legal fees will probably go down, makin’ it more affordable to hire a good lawyer in the first place. If the legislators wanna explain to their constituents why they’re against somethin’ like that, well, they’re more than welcome to try.”

Celestia smiled. “Spoken like a true Princess,” she said wryly. “It’s amazing to think that you’ve developed such sharp political instincts in only twelve years.”

“Well,” the erstwhile farmpony replied, “I’ve gotten a lot of good advice along the way. So, out of curiosity, are the two of you gonna be followin’ my lead in your own Courts?”

“I most certainly intend to,” Luna said. “If the three of us are united on this matter, it will make the transition easier to accept.”

“I agree,” Celestia said.

“And I think this is where I make my entrance,” Merry May said as she walked into her Princess’ study with a bottle of applejack. “From Big Macintosh’s private reserve,” the pegasus explained as she set the bottle on a side table and poured out three glasses.

“Care to join us in a little toast?” Applejack asked.

“I might as well, since you’ll probably order me to if I say no. Let me get another glass.”

“Why? Looks like you got enough to me. There’s one for Celestia,” Applejack said as she floated the lowball glass to her oldest sister, “one for Luna, and one for my loyal seneschal.”

“You will not be participating?” Luna asked, clearly surprised.

“Oh, I’m participatin’, all right,” the palomino alicorn said as she levitated the bottle of applejack in front of her. “I just won’t be needin’ a glass, is all.” She raised the bottle into the air. “To Diamond Tiara and the FlimFlam Brothers. May they never be required to bother me ever again.”

Author's Note

Incidentally, the concepts of accusation and inquisition seen in this story are based on actual judicial methods used in Europe during the Middle Ages, with the biggest difference being that inquisition wasn't introduced piecemeal in the real world; once it caught on, it became the standard for all trials, criminal or civil. It's one of the great ironies of history that for all the wrongs that occurred during the Spanish Inquisition, it was actually a massive improvement over what it replaced.

In addition to all my fan fiction, I've also got an original short story. It's called "The Empty Hand," it features cosmic horror in the Boston underworld, and it's currently available in eBook form on Amazon:

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