The Canterlot Conference
It was midnight, and the pale, full moon shone over Equestria, not a single cloud marring the view. Far in the distance, tiny lights like stars indicated where Ponyville stood, quietly asleep at the edge of the Everfree forest, entirely too content with itself, considering the creatures dwelling there.
Then again, they were protected by their benevolent and beloved ruler, Her Majesty, Princess Celestia, which probably made sleeping on the edge of the green hell and its myriad of pony-eating creatures a lot easier.
In Canterlot, too, almost everypony was asleep. Only the distant noises of the waterfalls and the occasional call of an owl could be heard... Unless you were located at the top of Canterlot's highest tower, where a hoofull of ponies were busily at work, talking about the future. The bright future of ponykind.
And only ponykind.
Princess Celestia was resting on a soft curlpad and listening to the soothing, if somewhat disconcertingly deep and strangely saddening melodies produced by Octavia's mastery of the contrabass while looking through a sizable stack of documents filled top to bottom with statistics, estimates, projections, approximations, graphs, analyses, extrapolations, predictions and cutesy little drawings thoroughly ill-suited for the ridiculously over the top acts of violence they depicted, a contrast that made Celestia chuckle every time she looked at them. "The information you've provided seems satisfactory... Although I understand that there've been problems with regards to implementation and propaganda. Is this correct?"
She paused for a moment, sipping on a glass of wine, and then looked at the other ponies in the room. "Well, Big Apple?"
The earthpony addressed as Big Apple nodded, rather nervously so, briefly looking out of the window and at the moon. A shiver ran down his spine. Why did these conferences always have to occur at night...? "Err... Y... Yes, your Majesty. I'm... I'm afraid that when a relative of mine and my associates, the Oranges, went on a trip to Appleloosa, she and her entourage, um, managed to defuse the brewing conflict with the buffalos, thus setting back our, um, ah... Our plans by approximately a year. However, we're very, ah, confident that our continued expansion into the area, encroaching on the territory of the savage buffalos, will soon create new points of friction with them, not to mention that the ponies of Appleloosa are likely to, uh, get tired of giving away their apple pies to the buffalos for free, in what amounts to being an extortion racket - apple pies in exchange for not being attacked."
Princess Celestia nodded, almost absent-mindedly so as she nuzzled Philomena, who was resting next to her, chirping with pleasure. "I do hope so... The moon is lovely to look at, isn't it?"
"Err... Yes, your Majesty."
"From afar, that is." Celestia smiled. "But it's a very, very cold and lonely place to live on..."
"Of... Of course, your Majesty. Although..." Big Apple hesitated, little pearls of sweat appearing on his suddenly very, very pale forehead, each one reflecting the candlelights around them. "Although I note that your favoured student appears to have been a part of my relative's entourage, too..."
Celestia frowned, and stopped nuzzling Philomena, who was seemingly annoyed by this most unpleasant turn of events. "Yes... I remember, she's written me about the matter. She's still a young filly, and doesn't quite understand how the world works, yet... I'm trying to protect her from the harsh, unforgiving world we live in, but it seems that she just can't help but get involved. Bless her, it's what you expect from a scholar. I'm sure she had everypony's best interests in mind, but unfortunately she is too young to see the whole picture. This is unfortunate, but I'm sure interferences of this kind won't significantly delay our plans, certainly not beyond the one year delay you've suggested. Or will they?"
"Yes, your Majesty," and "Of course not, your Majesty!" everypony else in the room answered, right on cue. Philomena looked immensely happy as she watched the perfect display of sycophancy, if not quite as happy as when Celestia had nuzzled her.
"But back to the main purpose of this conference. Prince Blueblood, your estimates?"
Prince Blueblood, who'd spent the time until now looking at himself in a pocket mirror, admiring his perfectly groomed mane, looked up and at his Royal Sovereign, momentarily confused. "The main purp- Oh, yes. Yes of course. Yes your Majesty. Thus far, our colonisation efforts in buffalo territory have had limited results - buffalo population is decreasing as we're taking increasing amounts of space from them and turn it from mere pastures into proper farms and cities, bringing civilisation to these desolate lands, with the majority of the buffalo population reduction being attributed to... Let me see..." Prince Blueblood shuffled through his papers, trying to find the right one and, once finding it, reading it out aloud. "To a lack of food resulting in stillborn calves and lower newborn survival rates as the milk produced by their mothers is insufficient to properly feed the buffalo offspring, but it's occurring at a rate of... Um, let me look... Where IS that note... I KNOW I told my secretary to write her research down for me... Aha! There it is." He triumphantly held up one of his many documents, seemingly proud of his achievement. "Of rather less than 1% per annum. Additionally, well-meaning but ultimately counterproductive measures such as the ones caused by Big Apple's naive relatives are improving the nutritional situation of the buffalos-"
Big Apple - still rather pale and nervous, but slowly regaining his confidence. He hadn't been sent to the moon quite yet, after all -, who'd glared at Prince Blueblood when his naive relatives had been mentioned, interrupted at this point. "What a nice presentation your staff wrote up for you. I'm surprised you managed to read it all by yourself." He paused for a moment, realising what he'd said... Still not on the moon, though. Not a word about being banished or sent to the dungeons, either. Apparently, Princess Celestia's appreciation of her subjects arguing with each other was more than just gossip. With a sigh of relief, he continued. "Anyway. Needless to say, me and my associates in Manehatten are rather less than happy with a substantial percentage of the apple production we're financing going to the buffalos for no compensation to speak of - the buffalo savages not using a currency with which they could pay -, and it seems highly unlikely that the buffalos can be convinced to engage in regular work unless we're resorting to force. Of course, even if the buffalos were compelled to engage in civilised and profitable activities, they'd most likely be outcompeted by our superior ponies, unless they were forcibly restricted to work at minimal labour costs."
"Slavery, in other words," Celestia noted with a smile, before whispering something to her unicorn secretary, who looked first at Prince Blueblood, then at Big Apple, and finally covered her mouth with her hoof, giggling.
"Yes, your Majesty."
"However, visible signs of slavery would probably distress our little ponies, and I believe that it'd be better for the health and wellbeing of our society if the buffalo problem would be solved as quickly and efficiently as possible, while leaving as few traces as possible," Celestia continued. "Our little ponies don't like being involved in ostensibly evil acts, and we shouldn't burden them with such knowledge. Don't you agree?"
"Certainly, your Majesty," Prince Blueblood, who'd started to brush his impressive mane and flaunt it in Big Apple's direction, replied. "We're estimating that, assuming a full-scale campaign against the savage buffalos, somewhere between twenty and thirty percent of the present buffalo population will be a non-issue before its remnants realise the futility of further resistance and surrender, thus limiting our own expenses and casualties in this campaign."
Celestia raised her eyebrows. "Isn't it unlikely that they'll surrender when we're aiming for their extinction, Prince Blueblood? Although... I think the shortsighted actions of Big Apple's relative and my own favoured, if unrealistically idealistic student may actually be an advantage here, lulling them into a false sense of security that'd ease their surrender..."
"And their herding into labour camps, of course," Prince Blueblood completed the Princess' sentence, taking advantage of his rank to show rather less deference to her than would generally be expected, a dangerous but also titillating habit. "We estimate that..." A few moments passed as he once again looked through the mess papers that'd once been a well organised presentation. "We estimate that hard, forced labour - mostly rock farming and soap production - while being under severe restrictions on food supplies will ensure a minimum of effective resistance, and a consistent buffalo population reduction of approximately 10% per annum, relative to the original population, solving the buffalo problem within a decade while the rocks will enable us to rapidly develop urban centres in the plains."
Princess Celestia nodded approvingly. "Most excellent, my dear Prince. This should provide us with the space we need for our expanding pony population, not to mention with new business ventures for Big Apple and his partners."
Big Apple beamed, happy to have another pie on his hooves as well as knowing that he was not going to be sent to the moon anytime soon. Prince Blueblood on the other hoof cleared his throat, demanding attention. "Your Majesty... If I may ask, will your sister play a role in this operation? I mean, the plains are windy, and dusty, and dirty, and war is so, well, messy... Bloodstains are incredibly difficult to get out of your mane, you know. And I think a pegasus or part pegasus would be better suited to command from the frontlines, while I keep my eye on everything from Canterlot... It is easier to make decisions from a distance, not distracted by the sound of battle and the threat of actual, real death..." He shuddered.
Celestia looked up, mildly surprised, even confused, and - luckily for Prince Blueblood - not really listening to anything her royal relative said after 'Sister'. "My Sis...? Oh, no. She's still... Psychologically unstable. Easily distressed, I'm afraid. I believe it is better not to expose her to the modern world too much - she's having enough trouble just trying to operate her kitchen appliances." She sighed. "I hope she'll get around her issues, but a thousand years on the moon left an impact on her..."
"Well, that's very good, I mean bad, your Majesty, but I meant to-"
"What Prince Blueblood means to ask is, what are your orders, your Majesty?" Big Apple said, interrupting the Prince once again, smirking. Blueblood's reaction wasn't anywhere near as happy, though he knew better than to express his feelings too openly. Being a Prince meant he could afford more, but not everything.
"Oh, of course," Celestia replied, snapping out of it and banishing her thoughts about her sister to her subconsciousness. This was the time for orders, not for feelings of regret. "Make sure we'll look like the victims of buffalo aggression, we do have a few years to set things up properly before the war is to start, if need be. And once the war starts, be swift and efficient, we must not waste time, not allow the scale of this operation to become public. And after a few decades have passed, nobody will even remember there've ever been buffalos on the plains. All that'll be there to find and see will be the bones of long extinct animals." She paused for a few seconds, fully aware of the importance every single word of hers carried in this very moment. "Gentlecolts, you're hereby ordered to proceed with the final solution to the buffalo problem."
As the others left the room, Princess Celestia once again nuzzled Philomena, who eagerly returned the favour. Together, they looked at the pale, full moon, admiring its beauty as it shone all over beautiful Equestria. From a distance, the waterfalls could be heard, their soothing noise slowly driving them both to rest for what little time remained until the next morning.
Only a single tear was shed this night. It belonged to Octavia, and caused a brief discord in her melody as it struck the strings of her instrument.
