16th day of Frostfall
454 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

“Let the next supplicant approach the throne!” Yelled Furled Scroll, the Court attendant. Luna and Celestia each sat on their respective thrones, a rare sight at any time but even more so now, Luna not having been in Everfree for half a decade.

A brown earth pony stallion with a cutie mark of flowering branches approached the thrones and knelt.

“Rise,” Luna commanded. The earth pony obeyed, looking from her to Celestia and back again. “Please state your request.”

“Y-your highness, my name is Pear Necessities.” The stallion coughed. “I’m a farmer, and me and my family recently moved to the city after the troops came to evacuate us.”

“Ah, you must be part of the refugee camp on the outskirts of the city,” Celestia noted. “How are things there?”

“Well…” he looked nervous. “Your highness has been very generous in giving us food and water at the expense of the crown, but a lot of us can’t go home, or at least not any time soon. There’s not enough to go around for all of us, either, and it’s hard to find honest work.”

“I’m sorry for that,” Celestia said, her ears drooping. “Our grain stockpiles have been stretched thin. Many fields were burned or trampled in the war, and it will be several seasons before we can begin to recover. I would offer you better food or coin if it was available.”

“No, your highness,” Pear Necessities said, shaking his head. “We’re not calling your kindness into question. You’ve been more than generous, giving us that land to live on. Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. There are a lot of trees and parks through the city, and they’re all technically property of the crown.”

“Indeed,” Luna nodded. “Both my sister and I feel they help keep the city from being lifeless.”

“Well, your highnesses, I’d like permission to put that land to use. I don’t intend to build anything on it, and I’m not asking for the land itself, just permission to tend it and replant. Most of us farmers have seeds from their finest crops, and we’d like to grow them on that land. We could plant fruit trees along the sides of the streets and in the parks, and replace hedges with berry bushes. It’d give us honest work to do, and we’d be able to feed our families.”

“This proposal has merit,” Luna admitted, looking at Celestia.

“I agree,” Celestia nodded.

“I would grant you this permission, with the caveat that the crops belong to the crown, as they are grown on land belonging to the crown. You may not sell them for a profit, and they are to be a public resource, with the fruit being given to those in need. Would you agree to these terms?” Luna raised an eyebrow.

Pear Necessities smiled and nodded. “That’d be just perfect, Princess.”

“Excellent,” Luna smiled.

“And we shall name you curator of the project,” Celestia put in. “You will be responsible for ensuring that the fruit of your labors is divided fairly. In return for this responsibility, you will be able to ask recompense for reasonable expenses.”

“We’ll be checking in from time to time,” Luna said. “Make sure you treat this as a serious responsibility, Pear Necessities.”

“I will, your highnesses,” Pear said, bowing again and retreating. He almost bumped into the next supplicant waiting outside the doors, the unicorn shoving him away and glaring at him, muttering something under her breath.

“It’s nice to be able to say yes from time to time,” Luna whispered to her sister.

“He seemed like an honest stallion,” Celestia said. “And even once he leaves, it might help improve the conditions in the Low City.”

“It would be difficult to make things worse,” Luna sighed. She nodded to Furled Scroll, who called for the next supplicant. The unicorn mare was wearing layers of fine silks, the collar of her dress lined with ermine, jewels shining in the fabric where they’d been sewn in a constellation in the shape of her cutie mark, a pouch overflowing with bits.

“Ah, Duchess Showers,” Celestia sighed. “I was wondering if you would appear on the docket.”

“Please, your highness,” the mare said, waving a hoof. “You can just call me Golden. We know each other well enough for that.”

“I take it you have approached the throne many times while I was gone, Duchess,” Luna said, seeing Celestia’s look. This was obviously one of the supplicants Celestia had wanted to give to Luna’s mercy at Night Court.

“My requests are reasonable,” Golden said. “All I’ve requested is a reformation of tax laws to help refill the treasury, and repair the losses from the war.” She held up a bundle of papers in her magical grip, pushing them towards Celestia. Luna grabbed them, her magic easily overpowering the Duchess’, and looked over them.

“I already told you, Duchess, this isn’t the time or place to discuss tax laws,” Celestia sighed. “I have a department of trained accountants specifically for this.”

“You want to increase the base tax rate by over five percent,” Luna noted. “While extending tax relief to ponies who are involved in war recovery efforts. A very broad term, from the definition here.”

“It needs to be, to cover all edge cases,” Golden said.

“Yes,” Luna agreed, narrowing her eyes. “Including nearly all of your holdings. With the law as drafted here, you would pay almost no taxes at all, while the poor would shoulder the burdens.”

“You’re looking at it too narrowly,” Golden protested. “Because I won’t have to pay as much in taxes, I can afford to pay my workers more, and hire more ponies to work for me! That will help the economy, and they will still be making more money even after the increased tax rate!”

“Nothing in these laws requires you to pay your workers more, nor do they prevent you from pocketing the increased profits,” Luna said, throwing the papers to the ground. “We are not stupid, Golden Showers. Your father would be ashamed of this base scheme. Golden Nugget was one of the finest con-artists of his time. He would have suggested setting up a charity, and simply skimmed profits from the top while still using the rest of the funds to help the needy.”

“He was not a con-artist!” Golden blushed.

“He also had more pride in his work than you do,” Luna noted. “I’ve never known a pony to work so hard merely to turn a small profit. If he had suggested a charity, I would have agreed, as even if he was appropriating funds, he would work twice as hard as those bits were worth just to make sure it did enough good that nopony questioned where the money was going.” She smiled, thinking back. “He was charming in his own way.”

“Your highness, please,” Golden Showers sighed. “It’s a simple fact that reducing the burdens on job creators allows more jobs to be opened for the needy ponies searching for them.”

“’Tis a lazy scheme,” Luna continued. “You simply wish to have the bits flow to you. Your father worked hard for what he had. Even if something wasn’t turning a profit, he would put his own money into it, because he traded on his good name and refused to let his ventures fail.”

“Why are you being so difficult?!” Golden snapped, turning red. And the moment the words left her mouth and she saw Luna’s face, she paled almost to white.

“Celestia,” Luna said, turning to her sister. “I believe she is right that the treasury could stand to be refilled. I suggest a tithe from the nobility. One tenth of their profits for a year, in addition to their normal tax burden.”

“Luna…” Celestia hesitated, but caught the same glare. “Perhaps.”

“You are dismissed,” Luna said, to Golden. The unicorn almost ran out of the room, her dreams of wealth shattered by Luna’s hoof.

“That was unnecessary,” Celestia whispered. “What if she really wanted to help ponies? Just because she was misguided doesn’t mean she was malicious.”

“Did you see the way she shoved Pear Necessities as he left the room?” Luna asked. “She isn’t a pony who is concerned with others, especially her lessers. No, she was only concerned about herself.”

“If you say so,” Celestia said, doubtfully.

“I do,” Luna asserted.

“You could have been more diplomatic, though,” Celestia continued. “If you were more polite, you could have done some good with her. I would have told her I’d have to review it with tax experts, asked for a detailed plan on how she was planning on spending her increased profits, and held her to her promises. She would have thought she was winning but still ended up doing good. Now she’s just going to complain and do nothing, or perhaps fire some of her workers in retaliation.”

“I hardly see how hurting random ponies serves as retaliation,” Luna frowned.

“Ponies do silly things when they’re angry,” Celestia shrugged. “We may still be able to use your threat of a tithe to manipulate her to a better end.”

“It wasn’t a threat,” Luna grumbled.

“Yes, which makes it all the more useful,” Celestia grinned. “Come, now, Luna. You know I enjoy using you as the stick to my carrot. You enjoy the role.”

“Truth, sister,” Luna nodded. “But it seems you’ve become more cunning than I expected in these last few years. When I left, you were granting the royal seal to nearly any decree that appeared in front of you.”

“Only because I knew I could count on you to rein in anything that was too outlandish,” Celestia admitted. “You were a safety net for me. One I employed too much. The first year when you were gone, I did some very silly things which I continue to regret.”

“We’ll face them together, sister,” Luna smiled.

19th day of Frostfall
454 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

“I just don’t see why I have to get dressed up all fancy for a party,” Pallas frowned, as Wind Dancer helped her put on her dress uniform. Her wings were still tender despite the Breezie dust being applied to them. “I don’t think anypony can have a good time if they’re stuck in something like this.”

The two were in Pallas’ quarters. Being an officer, she’d been granted her own private room in the castle. It was all bare and Spartan stone, but she had few things she cared about. The only keepsake she had was the huge sword of the minotaur Khan, hanging on the wall as a trophy of war. The edge was still stained darkly.

She looked at herself in the mirror. The Night Guard dress uniform was a high-collared affair in black, with red piping along the edges and wide crimson stripes down the outside of the legs. It was in an older style, with a half-cape over one shoulder that thankfully covered her broken wing, with a golden braided cord holding it around her neck.

“Because it’s not just a party!” Wind Dancer smiled. “It’s a ball! A fancy one!” She twirled around in her dress. It was lilac and white, a simple affair but cut to show a lot of her figure, a slit in the skirt going so high that the edge of her cutie mark was just visible.

“You’re planning to try and get a husband out of this,” Pallas said, bluntly.

Wind Dancer just laughed. “Of course I am. And with this flank, I can’t miss!”

“I just don’t like all this stuff,” Pallas sighed.

“That’s because you’re a party pooper,” Wind Dancer said, rolling her eyes. “The only time you open up is after enough mead to put the average pony into a coma. You’re a lot of fun after you get drunk, though.”

“Hmm…” Pallas considered. Wind Dancer frowned as if she could read the thestral’s mind.

“You’re not getting drunk at the ball,” Wind Dancer said, firmly. “It’s a sophisticated affair, and I don’t want to ruin my chances of getting a husband because you get tipsy and pick a fight with some Duke because he looks at you funny.”

“I’ve never…” Pallas hesitated. “I’ve never done that twice. Might have done it once…” she mumbled.

“Exactly,” Wind Dancer said. “Now let me fix your mane. You need to look good for Bianca!”

“That’s…” Pallas blushed.

“Don’t start with how it’s none of my business or how I’m reading into things,” Wind Dancer continued. “Even the griffons know you two are together, because she screams loudly enough to be heard all the way into enemy lines.”

Pallas blushed and lowered her head, Wind Dancer running a brush through her untamed mane, tugging knots out of the wild tangle until it was in some kind of order.

“Good enough,” Wind Dancer sighed. “Come on, then, bat-butt.”

“My cutie mark is an owl, not a bat,” Pallas frowned.

“Maybe, but unless you start hooting, no one is going to think you’re an owl. You don’t even have feathers!” She flapped her wings and zipped out the door, Pallas following with heavy steps. The ball was being held in the castle’s main gallery, a celebration for the safe return of Princess Luna. As they approached the gallery, Pallas could hear the musicians playing, and decorations started appearing, streamers in navy blue and silver hanging from the light sconces on the wall.

Pallas smiled as they turned the corner and spotted the entrance to the gallery. Celestia, Luna, and Bianca were there, greeting the guests as they walked into the brightly-lit ballroom. Celestia and Luna wore only their traditional regalia, but Bianca was in a black dress, not quite as brazenly cut as Wind Dancer’s, with open stripes like gills along the sides that allowed her coat to show through, almost giving her the striped appearance of a zebra. Lace along the collar and train of the dress further enhanced the contrasts, a choker set with a ruby completing the look.

She waved to Pallas as the bigger mare walked over to her, suddenly feeling underdressed in her uniform, not that she had anything else to wear.

“You look beautiful,” Pallas said.

“Have you come to sweep me off my hooves?” Bianca asked, smiling.

“I’d ask you to dance, but I don’t know how,” Pallas shrugged.

“That’s fine!” Bianca said, hopping over to nuzzle her. “Just follow my lead!” She grabbed Pallas’ wing with her own and ran into the ballroom, laughing.