The Good King

Chapters

The Good King

The Good King

THE GOOD KING

being an instructive tale for colts and fillies
with analysis by Archivist the Crown Princess Twilight Sparkle
and
commentary by Her Royal Highness, Princess Celestia

Once there was a good-hearted earth-pony king who lived in a beautiful castle in a mountain valley. His lands were bountiful, his subjects prosperous, and he was friends with the neighboring kingdoms. He treated his many servants well, and they all took pride in keeping the castle in perfect condition. With little to do but enjoy life, the king took to reading and painting and playing the clarinet, and seldom had to leave his lovely home.

There is never a lifetime which is always happy, however. A springtime eventually came with very little rain, and by summer the land was dry. Crops were not growing well, and even the weeds were stunted. The gardeners therefore sent one of their number to tell the king.

“How can this be?” said the king after the gardener had told of the dusty earth. “Surely it cannot be all bad! After all, look at this beautiful castle! If you truly were desperate I would know. You need only work a little harder!” The king then returned to his library.

So the gardener returned to his fellows, and they all vowed to work harder. The crops grew no taller, however.

As summer became fall, the weather became very hot. Apples began to wither on the branch, and there was no honey in the bee-hives. The farmers therefore sent one of their number to tell the king.

“How can this be?” said the king. “Surely it cannot be all that hot! Feel the lovely breeze as it comes through my open windows, fresh from the mountains above! If you truly were desperate, I would know. You need only work a little harder!” The king then returned to his paint-studio.

So the farmer returned to her fellows, and they all vowed to work harder. The apples grew no more juicy, however, nor did the honeycomb fill.

As fall became the harvest, the land's produce was gathered. The merchants' stalls were all but empty, and there was little to trade. The merchants therefore sent one of their number to tell the king.

“How can this be?” said the king. “Surely it cannot be all that lean! See the opulence of my court? If you truly were desperate I would know. You need only be more frugal!” The king then returned to his music-chamber.

So the merchant went back to her fellows, and they all vowed to be more thrifty. Their coinpurses grew no heavier, however.

The harvest became the winter, and as was tradition the king prepared his castle to receive his subjects. A mountain of wrapped gifts was set beside the king's throne for him to give away to every pony in his kingdom, and with joy in his heart the king ordered his doors opened wide so that his subjects could enter.

But no ponies came in.

“How can this be?” said the king. “Surely this is the right day!” He asked his ministers, and they told him it was the correct day, but that when the castle's doors were opened there were no ponies waiting. The king puzzled for a moment, then entered the feasting-hall.

But there was almost no food on the tables.

“How can this be?” said the king. “Surely this is the right day!” He asked his cooks, and they told him it was the correct day, but they had had trouble finding enough good things to eat in the market. The king worried for a moment, then entered the drinking parlor.

But there was but a single barrel of cider in the rack.

“How can this be?” said the king. “Surely this is the right day!” He asked his cider-master, who told him it was the correct day, but that the cellars were nearly empty and there was not a drop to be found in the town. The king fretted for a moment, then returned to his throne-room, where he sat himself down to think.

After an hour of thought and reflection and consideration, the king stamped his hoof. “This cannot be! I shall see how things are for myself!” Without waiting for his guards, he donned his purple cloak and went forth from his castle to go a-knocking at ponies' doors.

To his horror, he saw that in every home he visited, the ponies were lean and had neither food to eat nor wood for their fires. They were too weak to come to the castle, but none had wanted to complain or spoil the joy of either their neighbors nor their king.

The king returned to his castle and wept, for the misery of his people had struck a blow to his heart. “I did not know!” he cried. “I stayed in my castle and did not believe what I was told, for I looked only at my own circumstance. I have done my subjects a great evil!” And he was so distraught that he tore at his beautiful purple cloak.

The king then raised his scepter (which he did whenever he made a proclamation), and gave orders that all of his servants would cease their work in the castle, and go forth into the world and find food.

The king then opened his treasure-chest and took the coins which were used to keep the castle beautiful, and gave them all to his servants so they could pay for what they found.

The king then instructed his minister to forgive all taxes and tariffs and tolls, so the people could look to the well-being of their families before that of those charged with their governance.

The king then summoned his guards and gave them shovels and picks and hammers, and tasked them with digging a canal from the river to the fields, for the foe that must be fought was famine not bandits.

The king then went to his yard and ordered a large wagon laden with empty barrels to be made ready, and the king himself pulled the wagon to the neighboring kingdoms where the cider-barrels would be filled.

And when all was finally accomplished as the king had commanded, there was just enough for everyone.

When the spring came, and with it rains in plenty, the castle was in poor repair and the king's purple cloak tattered and stained. The neighboring rulers came to visit (as was a tradition), and were shocked to see the king's castle humbled with a leaky roof and tarnished doorknobs, and to see calluses on the king's shoulders from the wagon harness.

“Have you become poor?” asked a queen.

“No,” said the king. “I am surrounded by great bounty, for my ponies are happy.”

“Have you become destitute?” asked a prince.

“No,” said the king. “I am richer than any of you, for my ponies and I sing the same songs.”

“Have you become foolish?” asked a countess.

“I was,” said the king. “But from my ponies I have learned wisdom. For there is no greater wealth or contentment in the world than to see those around you prosper, and to play your own small role in their joy.”

From that time forth, the king went regularly among his subjects and shared their laughter and their sorrows. His lands never suffered famine again, even in lean times, and in good times his subjects were the envy of all.

To the end of his days the king was beloved, and he counted himself the luckiest pony who had ever been.

THE END

This is obviously a very old tale, older than Equestria itself, as the lack of pegasi to manage the weather shows. This is consistent with the valley-kingdom described, during the times when pony communities were self-sufficient and somewhat insular. I am certain, however, that there were no clarinets back then.

Though the story itself is very old, the telling that has come down to us is in a structure that is to modern Equestrian readers somewhat formal (but of much more recent origin). Indeed, there are rules to follow. Examples and conclusions are presented in lists of no less than three followed by a codetta, thus providing reinforcement and a narrative rhythm; vocabulary is simple save for a very deliberate sprinkling of complex nuanced words intended to incite questions about their meaning; alliteration always accentuates and amplifies appropriate allegory; phrases (especially in dialog) can be repeated multiple times as a thematic device to bind together distinct story elements. It is a restrictive, difficult structure in which to work, but one which results in a highly memorable, almost chant-like rhythm that aids in retention.

There also is a distinct earth-pony ethos to this story, in which physical labor is honored above all as the means to both success and and to contrition. Though the king had lived a life of ease, he nonetheless was familiar with the concerns of a farmer or shopkeeper (once he believed their concerns valid). While he may have only known this second-hoof, or through his books, once he understood the nature and gravity of the situation he knew what to do. Even back then, an education prepared a pony for anything!

Just as the king in this story could not believe that anyone could be less fortunate than he, the ponies of Equestria sometimes cannot imagine what it would be like to be at the mercy of wild weather; consider our fear of the Everfree Forest. One of the most important lessons of this story, therefore, is to recognize our blessings and to consider that there can be others not so lucky. The world outside of Equestria is a hard place, and it is very important that we do not lose sight of this fact. Ponies are luckier... not better... than our neighbors.

—Twilight Sparkle

The distancing of a ruler from his or her people is the first step down the path to ruin. When a leader loses touch with those whom he or she leads, disasters which could have been avoided altogether will arise as a shock and a surprise. The greatest shock to poor leaders, however, is often that they have become strangers in their own lands.

I make it a point to read this story from time to time, as it holds lessons that I cannot afford to forget. No ruler is above being reminded of their duty, or that a position of leadership is a privilege not a right.

—H.R.H. Celestia

Author's Note

This is a "fairy tale" story, a part of a project I am working on. Twilight Sparkle and Princess Celestia have been kind enough to comment upon the story, each from their own perspective. As Twilight has mentioned, the archaic style is a deliberate storytelling device, chosen for its proven effectiveness in helping young people to whom it is read (and it is indeed intended to be read aloud) to retain something of the story. Rhythm and structure, like that of a song, define the "fairy tale" structure as exemplified by the Mother Goose stories, the stories of Hans Christian Andersen, and other similar collections.

More than anything else, I would love to hear back from those of you who are parents of children who still like to be read to. If you would share how the story is received by the most important audience of all, I would be in your debt.