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Brevity

by darf

Chapter 2: Court Song

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Court Song

There’s a great deal a musician gets to see that nopony else pays attention to.

When you play an instrument, everyone assumes you’re supposed to be wherever you happen to be. Run your hoof across something, make a pretty sound, nod like you belong, and nopony gives you a second glance. That means you get to hear a lot, if you can listen underneath the notes you have to make. It also means you get to see things, too, if you’re watching close enough.

A few nights ago, going by counting of the moons, I was in attendance at the royal court, as I often am. Hoofpicked by the Princess herself—Celestia, that is—to serenade the companies of courtesans, the nobles and the ignobles, the attendants and the obligations and anypony else who happens to be there to listen. Mostly it’s a nice gig—they give me smiles and nods, sometimes a bit of pocket change, which for a court minstrel is enough to pay for next week’s meals with a fair bit left over. I’m certainly not complaining.

The one thing worth noting is that, when you mix into the crowds of all these ponies mingling — most of them rich, with old, old, money, old enough it’s probably seen more days than the Princesses, Aurora bless their heavenly souls—is that you realize how much goes on in plain sight—or under plain ear, I guess,—that’s absolutely unbelievable. Ponies, in broad daylight, in the classiest of company, will discuss plans for war; for profiteering, for hostile land-takeovers, for subversion and deceit and illicit love affairs and Aurora knows what else. It’s like they don’t even notice that right next to them, there’s a group of supposed ‘nobleponies’ who could tune into their conversation and oust them at the blink of an eye.

But of course, they don’t. They’re too busy having their own discussions.

The overhearing is left to me.

Most of the time, I don’t bother to listen. It’s all the same. So, the one night I happened to wish afterwards that I’d tuned in, I didn’t catch more than an earful until the night was already over.

It was one of their banquets—the Princesses are very fond of banquets, Celestia most of all. She seems to enjoy the food and drink, if nothing else, and the big feast tables are an excuse for her to bump shoulders with all the ponies who come to ‘pay tribute’ everytime there’s a catered meal involved. If all there is to being royalty is hobnobbing with suckups and eating expensive dinners, I could probably go in for it. But anyway, that’s besides the point.

I think it was more than halfway into the night when it happened — timekeeping isn't my strong suit, as you might guess from the harp on my side. There was a sound that, even in the burbling of bad behaviour and equally awful discussions, everypony in the hall managed to hear: A scream. The kind of scream that, if you heard it in your sleep, would be enough to make you sit up and think about what’s really out there after the big light in the sky goes out, for us, for good.

Which, as it just so happens, is what at least one pony had to ask that night. Just not the one anypony expected.

Because I sidled up to the scene like I was supposed to be there, no one batted an eyelash when I snuck in close enough to catch a peek. I always hold my harp like it’s some kind of passport, shoving it at people when I can see they’re about to ask what I’m doing there. Luckily, everypony at the time was too distracted to pay attention to lil’ ol’ me, so I got a full view of the aftermath. That is to say, the sight of Princess Luna, may Aurora bless and keep her heavenly soul, lying face-first down in her plate of food with a silver dagger in the back of her neck.

A few ponies didn’t seem to believe it at first—but when they came around, finally, their screams caught up with them, and it wasn’t long before the whole room was in hysterics. Me, I just stood there, watching. Didn’t seem right to play anything, aside from maybe a sad little ditty. Possibly prematurely. Something in A minor, maybe. Anyway.

The place was in complete panic. What was even more unbelievable was Celestia; I don’t think I’ve ever seen her stumped by anything before then. She just looked down once or twice, then back up, staring straight ahead, like everything in the world was right, aside from her not being able to move, or speak. She wasn’t smiling, exactly, but her face was kind of frozen, like she expected somepony to jump out from the big crowd and yell “Gotcha!”, and Luna would lift herself out of her potatoes and clean up the ‘fake’ blood pouring out of her skull, and smile, and the everypony would have a big laugh.

I think one of the chancellors eventually took her away. That was when I made myself scarce, because even though it’s easy not to be noticed when you’re carrying an instrument, the guards start to ask questions to everpony in a situation like that. I don’t get along so well with the guards. They rub me the wrong way.

So that was one night, a couple days ago, if I figure right. If that was all that had happened, that’d be enough—but of course, something like that doesn’t exactly just get smoothed over at night. I mean, for one thing, there was no night to smooth it over. Without Luna around to put the sun away, the whole evening was bright. Made it a bit hard to sleep, as a matter-of-fact.

Of course, a meeting was called. Probably by one of the chancellors rather than Celestia. She didn’t seem in any state to be making council decisions when I saw her get led away that night. But, sure enough as I snuck into the meeting, hiding in the corner and fiddling with my strings, Celestia was there, as bright and in charge as I’ve ever seen her. Well, bright in the sense of the word like the sun might be ‘bright’ during a record heatwave, when just stepping outside will melt your cutie mark right off, and your fur to your bones besides. She was the maddest I’ve ever seen her, which I suppose isn’t a big claim; in all the time I’ve been at the palace, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her more than a little peeved. At that meeting, she was livid.

“I want the pony responsible for this at my hoove in a day’s passing,” she said. “Am I understood?” There was a general kind of nodding, on account of you didn’t want to be on the Princess’s bad side on a day like that. I think the matter of national consul came up at some point: what to tell the public, what to do about mourning. All of that kind of got put on hold though. Everything around went into full-blown game-hunt.

Naturally, I made myself less-than-visible, on account of not having any friends in the guard that were all over the place anyway. Not that they’re not nice enough ponies, I’m sure, but some folks you give a big gold helmet and a stick with a point on it and they get just belligerent. Better to stay at home and practice my etudes than stick my nose in places it didn’t belong.

Of course, little bits got through here and there. A conspiracy was the word going around. An assassin had been hired by a warring nation—no, by one of Celestia’s most trusted ministers—the duke of a nearby fealty—or Celestia herself! Bunch of horsefeathers, if you ask me. But, you don’t have to take my word for it. The important thing is to ask questions, in a situation like this.

So a bit of time goes by, and the next day on the hour there’s another meeting. Celestia was still fuming, and even more so when, of course, no one managed turn up even a hair of whomever was responsible. The guards looked like they were going to cry, which was a sight I didn’t particularly mind. Celestia gave them a stare like she wanted to burn them into a crisp. ‘course, she shared that with everyone else too, including the cabinet to her left and right. The old stallions sitting up there looked like colts on their first school-day, told there was going to be a five pages pop-quiz.

One of the council-ponies spoke up, after a bit.

“N-now, my liege... please, you must abate your temper. While we are all greatly saddened by Princess Luna’s passing — “

“Her murder, you mean.” Celestia’s eyes shone so sharp I thought she might light the whole meeting hall on fire. The councillor certainly felt it, anyway.

“Her... yes. Well, be that as it may. I understand your grief, but you must temper your temper. No amount of anger will bring her back—“

I thought her eyes might have been enough to do it, but I imagine her horn probably had some part to play into the whole thing. It was as strange a sight as I’ve ever seen, in any case. One minute the crusty old minister there with his beard twirled over his old robes, and the next minute a pile of black dust, settling to the ground with a big curl of smoke coming up.

You could have heard a pin drop, I bet.

Something told me a G# would be the perfect note for the occasion.

That set them all off. You’d figure that ponies have one of two ways to go in that kind of situation: either you clam right up and cower like you never cowered before, until Her Highness decides to tell you what to do next, or you just lose it. The ponies in the meeting picked the second one; except for Celestia, weirdly enough. She just kind of stood there, like she’d calmed, or maybe tipped far over into mad that she’d come out on the other side, which I suppose is an eventuality in this kind of thing.

Normally in this kind of situation I’d hoof it out for a bit, but not in this particular instance. I mean, some ponies say music is meant to be a tool of soothing in times of panic. I’m not sure I believe that, but I certainly knew there was more that I wanted to see. There was a slight chance of me getting melted into dust, sure, but that’d probably be more fun than running off and not knowing what happened.

Celestia waited until the whole courtroom had finally panicked themselves out, throwing themselves against windows and walls and doors, which I don’t think they realized Celestia had probably padded with some kind of magic—her horn was glowing, anyway. I stood there and watched them settle. Everypony kind of turned at once. Some of them were crying. It was a rough scene.

“Let me make myself very clear,” Celestia said. “I have no interest in being patronized. I am not hysterical—I am not out of my wits—nor am I ‘grieving’. I have lost the pony dearest to me in the world, and I am taking the proper steps to enact appropriate consequences upon the pony responsible. Do I make myself very clear?”

There was a general chorus of nods. I think I even bobbed my head a little bit.

“Let me further make it clear,” she went on, starting to walk in a very deliberate, slow fashion around the room “that I have no interest in further detractors from this pursuit. If anypony present has more words of banal sympathy to attempt to dissuade me, I ask that they make themselves very clear right now.”

Would you say anything in a situation like that?

Of course, no one there wanted to. But some poor sap in the front row must have felt like he needed to speak up, because he tottered forward, shaking and blubbering and wringing his hooves like he was praying, which he probably was. Dunno who you pray to when the only God is the one in front of you that might want to burn you to a crisp—excepting the Aurora, may she reign forever in spirit throughout Equestria amen.

“My Liege,” he said, sounding a bit younger than the last pony who went up. He didn’t have a big complicated beard either—just a pencil-looking moustache and a slick of hair that looked sort of like he painted it on. “I must truly apologize for my colleague’s actions. Clearly he had no idea the level of pain you are going through right now—“

He tensed up then, like he was expecting to be breathing a puff of smoke next, but Celestia didn’t do anything. She just looked at him with one of her eyebrows up. So, he went on.

“But, I have to ask, on behalf of everypony present... truly, is this the right thing to do? You have always been so kind, and wise, and we have basked in your benevolence. Is a sudden turn to vengeance really the proper path?”

Everyone’s breath was caught up at that point. Having anywhere be that quiet with so many ponies around is sort of upsetting—it always feels like I should play something just to fill the air. But, there’s a time and a place. Besides which, I was watching with everyone else.

Celestia’s face softened. Everypony in the room sighed when her head lowered. You could feel the relief go through ‘em like a wave or a chorus.

The pony at the front of the room breathed the loudest of all. I could see the sweat pouring off him from where I was standing. He looked like he’d been dunked in the moat.

“You may be right,” Celestia said. A relieved smile caught on a few faces, including the pony front and center.

“Thank you Princess. I knew you would see reason.” The court-pony stepped forward, resting his hoof on Celestia’s wing and leaning towards her with a sympathetic glimmer in his eye.

“After all,” he said. “Isn’t this what Luna would want?”

The sizzling sound he made as he went up was definitely unique. I certainly don’t think I’ll forget it anytime soon.

From that point on, still just a few days ago, I think, things have been a little different. Guards on high alert, which is to be expected. No more council meetings. Celestia sits in her throne room now more than I’ve ever seen her. The council’s been disbanded, as much as I can tell. That’s all that’s going on in the castle, anyway, but there’s a lot more outside. Canterlot, the whole place around, is in the same kind of state. There are posters on every wall, even though they don’t have a face yet—they plastered up a sad picture of Luna instead, asking for any information about the attack. I hear they’re in every town in Equestria by now, and even in some of the not towns. Guards in all places coming out like beetles in an old log. Ponies are on high-alert. Homes being broken into. Questions being asked with broken bones and similar things before or afterwards. Not exactly what I’d call a fun time.

That’s the goings on inside, anyway. But you don’t hang around the castle long enough without picking up words on the current ‘political climate’. Sounds hostile, at least. Celestia turning down meetings with ambassadors—threatening them maybe. Some of the ponies in the castle still talk about her, though they do it in whispers now, because they’re not sure who’s listening, aside from me. Say Celestia’s gone completely crazy. She’s paranoid now; sleeps with thirty guards at her chamber door. She’s managed to get into pulling the moon up by herself, though I’m not sure what that does to her sleep schedule. Doesn’t she have to be up the whole time to keep it in the sky? Dunno how she manages to get any rest between that and the sun. I’d probably be a bit put out too if I was missing that much sleep.

All in all, I think I’m up and done with the castle. As nice as the pay is, or was, it now being the case that banquets aren’t exactly a regular occurrence, I think I’d be better off finding somewhere to be. Just to my benefit, in the long run.

Even with all this going on, everypony in a proper fear-of-Goddes state, they still don’t notice the green pony playing music in the background. Let me slip out of the castle nice and easy. Guards didn’t blink when I left. Heck, they didn’t even notice when I popped into Luna’s room the night before, to swap that silver dagger with a steel one. The guy who gave it to me did say he wanted it back. Not that there were hoof prints to worry about—why use a hoof for anything other than music when you have a horn?—but you don’t really ask questions about this sort of thing.

I’m sorta looking forward to seeing where things take me next. I don’t really imagine I’ll have a problem fitting in wherever I end up. After all, when you’re a musician, you don’t have to worry much about anything at all. You always just sort of fit right in.

 

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