Chapter Fifty Nine

The Council of the Rus

As soon as the guards noticed Spike and the stallion beside him, they parted, having already moved in to halt their progress. Giving a polite nod of thanks, the duo entered through a large set of doors that seemed to go not into the large building, but under it. When Spiked asked him why that was, Dimitri chuckled.

“If the majority of the building is insulated underground, then it is easier to keep warm in the winter months,” the captain said. “In summer, ice from winter is brought out into large rooms designed to spread the cold air throughout the building, so that it remains comfortable. Really quite ingenious, but expensive too, I’d wager. Imagine, using ice from winter to keep cool in the hotter summer months? Sounds like something only the rich would be able to afford.”

“What about you?” Spike asked. “Do you live on the palace grounds?”

“We guards do, yes, as do our families,” Dimitri replied. “We live in the royal barracks, but we’re all on a rotational shift so that we can still spend time with our loved ones. Before Nicholas changed the empire, guards were either to remain single or to be away from their families for very long periods of time, and even then visits would have to be short. I’m just glad things are changing the way they are.”

“Why is that?” Spike asked as they continued down the large series of stairs, the railings glinting in the light of many blazing torches. All around them, the air seemed to become a little colder as they traveled further down, but it was hardly noticeable. Under a torch here or there sat a guard, alert yet clearly bored with their current predicament.

“Well, I had this friend who knew this professor who was reading into the political works of some philosopher,” the guard said. “Really revolutionary stuff, and I mean that literally. However, the tsar took the wind out of his sails with all these reforms of his, and frankly I think we’re all off better for it. What the guy was proposing in his younger days was just crazy.”

“What happened to him?”

“Oh, he retired from the university and opened a small tavern,” Dimitri said. “His assistant has been making more and more of his usual rounds across the city, delivering alcohol and pastries and such. I think you may have met her already.”

“Is she a griffin?” Spike asked.

“Yes, and a large one at that,” the guard said as they approached another set of doors, the thick wooden slabs it was constructed from being guarded by no less than ten heavily armored guards. “I asked her if there was any minotaur or dragon in her ancestry, but she insisted she was pure griffin from both sides. A longtime transplant too, from what she’s said: her great-great grandparents fled Istanbul during one of their many revolts, and apparently just settled up here and stayed.”

The guards at the doors stopped them, the largest two stepping forward with their large bardiche weapons at the ready. “Purpose for being here?” One asked, the light of the torches glinting off his weapon’s sleek blade. He looked like he almost wanted to use it.

“The guest of the tsar wishes to meet with one of the servants attending to the council,” Dimitri said, producing a small piece of paper with a peculiar insignia upon it. “Here is the proof, Fyodor.”

Fyodor glanced at the paper for a few moments before nodding. “They should almost be done in there, but you’ll have no problem finding your way around,” he said, the other guards stepping back as the big doors were slowly opened for them. With a nod of thanks, Spike and Dimitri walked inside.

Almost immediately, Spike was hit with a smell of newly-furbished furniture, combined with an aroma of what was either tobacco smoke or some sort of poorly built fireplace. While not very evident, there was a slight haze when he looked towards the torches lining the halls, and all around him, arches led into a central chamber. Following Dimitri through one of these, the two of them came out into something of a rotunda, albeit an upside down one. Here and there, more and more arches led from small gathering areas, each one looking like a cross between a small office and a swimming pool. Spreading out from a larger, central seat, the number of seats increased as the rows went further up, and, soon enough, it looked like there was enough room to seat hundreds of nobles and delegates.

“Wow,” was all the young dragon was able to say.

“It is impressive, yes?” Dimitri said with a chuckle. All around, some seats were empty, whilst others were still filled with all sorts of ponies, as well as the occasional non-pony, whom seemed to be pouring over documents of all sorts. High above, more guards looked down from a sort of veranda, and here and there, Spike could spy a delegate or two chatting with one another.

“I’ll say,” Spike replied with a nod. “How do the more distant ones talk without having to shout at one another?

“Small teleportation scrolls, courtesy of the unicorn scribe each and every delegate has,” Dimitri explained as their eyes wandered. “If the delegate does not have one, then they are assigned one, or at least, they are given a list of possible candidates. It is a rather high honor, you know, to work for these powerful figures, especially if you have little to no inheritance or wealth of your own.”

The pony pointed downwards, towards one of the lower levels. “There, there she is,” he said. “Amber Faye.”

Spike followed the captain’s gesture and blinked in surprise at the sight before him. Down a ways, likely two or three levels down, talking with what appeared to be a rather well-dressed unicorn, stood perhaps the kindest-looking Diamond Dog in existence. Her pelt was short and curly, and as brown as chocolate, though some of the fringes seemed to be touched with flecks of grey and white. Her ears lay alongside her head, almost like little flags without a wind to keep them fluttering, and her jowls seemed to have an unlimited amount of wrinkles adorning them. A slightly hunched and rotund body, a small pair of glasses perched on the end of her snout, and a set of eyes nearly swallowed up by her cheeks, little Amber Faye was unlike any Diamond Dog he had ever seen.

“She... she looks like my grandmother,” the dragon said. “Or at least, how I think my grandmother would look, if I had known her. Or if I were a Diamond Dog, at least; I really don’t know.”

“Yes, yes, she has that effect on others,” the captain said with a chuckle. “That might be one of the reasons the Tsar has kept her on his staff for so long. That, or she just really knows how to cook.”

“Who’s she talking to?” Spike asked, just as the pair moved on.

“Ah, that would be Shortcake.”

“Shortcake?”

“Yes, that is what his name is, though simply referring to him as “baron” or “sir” would likely be a wise idea.”

“So, this... baron... what is he like?”

“Well, we’ll soon find out, but a word of advice: try not talk to him about politics of the realm, or his name,” the captain replied. “He is very sensitive about others saying it to him, seeing as he has more or less come to loathe it. A very odd mother, he must have had, in order to be called that.”

“But I know some ponies back home whose last name is “Cake”, and I don’t find it odd at all,” Spike said as they moved along, headed towards a flight of stairs.

“Yes, well, Shortcake is his first name, and frankly, it just doesn’t seem to fit his personality,” Dimitri replied. “Makes him sound like a baker or chef, and trust me, he is neither. The baron has so embraced this new system of government and all the progress it entails that he is, without a doubt, one of the more influential forces within these halls. You might even say he’s a bit obsessed with how it all develops.”

“Obsessed?”

“Yes, very: he contacts more members of the government than almost any other figure, excluding the Tsar, of course, yet he himself is almost always wishing to speak with the Tsar on matters of state. It would seem rather innocuous, really, except for the fact that Nicholas more or less made him write everything down and have it delivered to the royal house instead of Shortcake showing up every time he wished to talk. I must say, it certainly freed up the Tsar’s time. That, and it was getting annoying letting that pony it at the wee hours of the night or morning.”

“So... does he even sleep?” Spike asked.

“Maybe, but whatever the case, his enthusiasm would not be much more than a passing concern, except for, well...”

“Well what?”

“His insistence on knowing all the ins and outs of this government is putting the Tsar in a precarious position. If he tells Shortcake to just stop talking about it, then it might appear that he is being tyrannical and trying to keep the information on how things are run known only to himself. However, if he lets it continue, then Shortcake could do something down the road that could lead us all into a very dangerous predicament. Yet, to balance between these two decisions, the Tsar is trying to just talk with him about it, and none of us know just how successful he is being.”

“So... Shortcake could be dangerous or totally innocent, but none of you know for sure, and won’t be able to, unless something happens?”

“Precisely.”

Spike shook his head, “And here I thought politics back home were wacky, but it seems that almost everywhere I go, things just keep getting crazier and crazier.”

“You get used to it,” Dimitri said with a shrug as they reached the bottom of the stairs. A quickly-moving figure brushed past them, and, for a moment, Spike was able to see Shortcake up close: rather handsome, in a plain way, well-dressed, a unicorn with a light grey coat and a rather dark mane, though the blue and green eyes seemed rather mismatched, as did the strange streaks of teal, sea foam, and blue in his mane. An odd-looking pony, to be sure, but then again, Spike had seen much stranger in his journey so far.

Yet this was all he saw of the stallion, as he quickly filed past them without so much as a word, headed up the stairs with a purpose in his step.

“That was Shortcake?”

Dimitri nodded. “Not the politest fellow when he’s dead set on meeting with somepony, but otherwise... fairly level headed.”

The duo turned to find the diminutive Amber Faye pushing a small wooden cart along, the containers within jingling slightly with every step. She stopped as soon as she reached the two of them, and after bending over slightly, she brought up a pair of what appeared to be danishes.

“Care for one?” She asked with a small smile, the wrinkles in her face scrunching up slightly.

“Sure,” Spike said, gently taking one from her outstretched paw. “Are you by chance Amber Faye?”

“Yes, that’s me,” she said with a slow nod, her ears flopping ever so slightly at the motion. “Head Cook to the Tsar, Chief Baker in all the land, High Nanny to the heirs of the state, and many, many other boring titles. You may simply call me Mrs. Faye, or Amber if you prefer.”

Spike took a bite of the danish and almost flinched in surprise: it was just... amazing! He hadn’t had any baked goods this good since, well, he left Equestria. Then again, such sweets were likely not available to some of the common folk in the countries he had passed through, or, at least, not in this form. He’d have to ask the Tsar later what the citizens of his empire actually ate.

“Mrs. Faye, this young dragon is a guest of the Tsar,” Dimitri explained, politely declining the other danish. “He wished to learn more about your history with the Tsar’s family, as well as that of your kind. He has also never truly had the chance to meet a Diamond Dog before, and the Tsar believed you would be the perfect one to talk to him on the matter.”

“Oh, I see,” the elderly dog said, setting the remaining danish in Spike’s free hand and making sure he held onto it. “Come, sit, and listen to old Amber’s stories.”

“I wouldn’t call you old,” Spike mumbled as the pair found a bench. He offered to help her sit down, but she politely declined his assistance. The only thing that creaked more than the wooden bench under their combined weight was seemingly all of Amber’s joints.

“Well sonny, I’m older than I look, but I’m by no means helpless,” she replied, adjusting her glasses on her little snout. “So, tell me, what do you wish to know?”

“Anything, really, I’m all ears,” Spike said simply. “Most Diamond Dogs out near Equestria are rather brutish and reclusive, even a tad barbaric at times; no offense.”

“None taken,” Amber said simply. “We Diamond Dogs are an ancient race, hailing from somewhere high in the provinces of Scandinavia. We are unsure if that is our original birthplace or simply where we came to be what we are now, but our kind lived in those regions for many thousands of years before expanding out all over the world. After our expansion, our more distant pockets of our species began to change, slowly but surely. Some became highly intelligent and lived freely among other species, much like my kin and I. Others, much like the ones you seem to have met, became solitary, less inclined towards diplomacy, and altogether distant from the trappings of cosmopolitan society.”

“So I take it that the distinction is really obvious?” Spike asked.

“Oh, indeed,” she replied. “Yet, even among the more “civilized” of our kind, and I do use that term rather generously, there were varying distinctions. When our kind settled these lands, there were no ponies, or, at least, the ones that were here kept themselves to the more open plains. But, as the centuries went on, more and more showed up, along with other species, like griffins and minotaurs. Eventually, we Diamond Dogs were at the bottom of the social scale, both economically and politically, and thus, eventually, we became serfs.”

“Doesn’t sound all that fair,” the dragon muttered.

“History, and to the same extent, life, is hardly ever fair,” Amber said. “It was a natural progression, you see, from slaves to serfs, even though the distinction between the two is very small. The more brutish of our kind were resigned for more laborious tasks over the coming centuries, often as hired or forced labor, or as soldiers in armies. Others, like myself, who were seen as “intellectually gifted”, were assigned places of comparable wealth, such as serving the families of nobility. No lives were easy, but we made do, as we always had.”

“And then you were set free?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “Our kind had long wished to be free to set out on our own paths, to not be tied to the estates or households of a noble’s family. When the Tsar’s grandfather freed us, it was such an upheaval that, for years, we had no idea on what to do. Many of us continued on with our lives much as we always had, while a brave few actually left it all behind and journeyed elsewhere. Slowly, but surely, we began to realize the freedoms we now had, and soon enough, our voices drowned out that of the nobility. We rose up and demanded fair wages, decent living quarters, the right to own our own lands, and teach our pups the ways of our people, a practice that had long been suppressed by our overlords. The Tsar heard our cry and responded immediately, much to the displeasure of many a noble.”

“Yeah, I can’t see them taking it well that they lost so much power,” Spike said, biting into the second pastry. “Then what happened?”

“Well, see now, things were changing rapidly, and, to a good degree, they still are,” Amber said. “My mother, bless her heart, had thought I’d make a good cook, and so encouraged me to train beside her, just as she had under the Tsar’s grandfather. However, just as I met and married my now-deceased husband, rest his heart, my mother died and I took her place as the Tsar’s head chef. It was not long after that that the Tsar himself was killed, and I became embroiled with trying to raise a litter of puppies alongside the new Tsar’s own children, whom were almost always in danger at some point or another.”

“So, you helped raise Nicholas too?”

“Yes, and good thing I did, too, for I was still working as chef when his father died, leaving a young, rather inexperienced Nicholas to assume the throne. I was by his side during it all, and he turned to me for answers far more times than I can recall. For a long while, I served as the unofficial “emissary” to my kind throughout the empire, but, after a while, I couldn’t travel like I used to, and had to retire from that “position”. Now, here I am, still serving treats to the Tsar’s friends, family, and fellow nobles, much like I did during his father and grandfather’s time.”

Spike could hardly believe it. Here was someone who had seen and experienced so much, much more than most “mortals” might, and yet she had not only witnessed it, but had been a key player in all of it. Hard to believe she was merely a great cook and occasional nanny. “You should write a book,” the dragon said after finishing his dessert. “I’m sure many out there, diamond dogs and ponies alike, would love to know this.”

“Yes, well, maybe, but I’m no writer,” Amber said with a smile, shaking her head slowly. “I’m sure others I’ve talked to about this will tell others, but best for me to remain what I am; me. I’m in no hurry to change, seeing as I don’t have as much time left as I used to,” she chuckled at that. “My grandchildren are already marrying off and beginning to have families of their own. Life sure flies by.”

“You’re telling me,” Spike said. “Several months ago, I was back home, in Equestria, and here I am now, almost halfway around the world, with a family in tow. If someone had told me last year this is what my life would be like now, I would have simply laughed.”

“Strange, is it not, how the future can change on almost a whim?” The Diamond Dog said, a knowing look in her eyes. “The choices we make can change everything around us, more than we can ever imagine. Yet I feel there is more that you wish to know than simple history.”

“Yes, there is,” he replied. “This term... serfdom. Just how bad was it?”

“A simple question, but a not-so-simple answer,” Amber Faye said. As Dimitri stood guard over the pair, she began to explain to him the history of serfdom, from its rise as a step above slavery to it’s eventual descent into more or less the actual slavery it became long before her time.

Meanwhile...

“So... will the merchants of Minsk support us, as well as those of the other trade cities?”

Shortcake nodded solemnly, his gaze following the figure as they paced around the room. “We have their support, yes, and the laws are on our side. Do you believe the guilds in Crimea will be against us? If all goes to plan, this endeavor could make them a great deal of money.”

“It could also undo everything they have struggled to build,” the shorter figure replied. “The Tsar’s policies do much good for the empire, but we cannot simply look to him for guidance in all things. Our past has shown us that a majority of nobles know what is best for the country, and though our power may have been weakened these past few generations, it is up to us to make the best of what we have, as often as we can. If that means doing things we have never done before, then so be it.”

“He may not side with us, but the laws will inhibit his actions against us, if the proof of our involvement is not irrefutable,” the stallion replied, his partner’s musings giving him great cause for concern. “Yet we both know that more is at stake than our family’s fortunes.” All that they were trying to do was not necessarily illegal, but it could easily be viewed as such, and, right now, the last thing they or the Tsar needed was mistrust from the public. It had taken many years to build up the trust the Tsar had, and now, with his new form of government slowly but surely forming under him, it would take but a single match to burn the whole lot of it to the ground.

Shortcake and his accomplice did not want that. They wanted the Tsar to succeed, far more than he realized. Yet, as nefarious as it sounded, it was far from it: they were taking an awfully big risk in backing a plan like this, yet, if it paid off, all of Russia would be all the better for it.

“Then we make our move soon, Shortcake,” the other said, her voice soft but firm. Her goat legs treaded carefully across the tiled floor of her personal study, but her hands remained clasped behind her back, the digits worn from years of hard labor. Flint Feet was no simple faun to be brushed aside if a deal went south or the times were tough: she had not gotten to here she was in life by being lazy or incompetent. “Russia’s very future depends on our success.”

Later that same day...

The sun had long since set, but the Tsar remained upright in his large bed, thoughts swirling in his mind. “The situation in Crimarea is becoming more and more volatile,” he said as his wife entered, her nightgown glowing softly in the dim light of the candle she carried. “Reports are coming in that many of the Ottomare that merchants are up in arms with one another about the recent developments in the empire’s heart. Istanbul’s rebellion, though short-lived, is having far-reaching consequences as the search for traitors continue.”

“What of our hold over the area? Is it still secure?” The Tsarina asked, setting the candle down on their dresser and crawling into bed.

“Yes, though in lieu of all of this, I say we approach the situation cautiously,” Nicholas replied. “There’s no telling how much of this is a credible threat to the region’s stability.”

“Then we shall have to wait and see,” his wife whispered, fluffing a few pillows. “For now, let us focus on the here and now. Have our guests been satisfied with our accommodations?”

“Yes, and today was a big day for Mr. Dragul,” Nicholas said, laying down. “He went to speak with Mrs. Faye today.”

“Oh, I had hoped he would,” Alexandra said. “I take it the meeting went well?”

“Very much so. From what Dimitri told me, the two talked for a very long while about a great many things. I hope he can now see what kind of predicament we are in, with all of these changes. Our country is old, older than many other kingdoms, yet we are changing far faster than many of our neighbors. I simply hope it all doesn’t just blow up in our face.”

“What we saw in that vision was too terrible to let come to pass,” his wife muttered. “All of us, the entire line, our way of life... gone in a mere twinkling of time.”

“I could not bear the thought of losing my family anymore than I could of losing our country,” Nicholas said. “These changes are all for the best, even if, in time, our children’s descendants will become nothing more than figureheads, monarchs with little more power than any of their fellow citizens.”

“It is for the best, I suppose,” Alexandra said simply. “They will still live, if nothing else, beloved by their empire, as we are.”

“Yes, by its lower classes, at least,” the Tsar said. “The other nobles... I do not know why, but I feel that these changes will be embraced by them to only a certain point. Afterwards, there may be... resistance to our reforms. A little power taken here or there reduces the chances for upstarts trying to tear everything down, but all at once, and civil war is an almost certainty.”

“Then we shall have to make sure things go as swimmingly as they can, as slow as they can, for as long as they can,” she said, gently snuggling up beside him. “Tomorrow, I plan on taking Spike’s family and guest out for a light luncheon. Will you take Spike with you to the assembly?”

“Maybe the next day, tomorrow I have to meet with some diplomats from the Marengols, and I would wish not to be disturbed,” he replied, pulling her close. “You know how they hate feeling like the second most important ponies in the room. I think he’ll be busy tomorrow anyways, too busy to be tagging along with me.”

“Oh? Doing what?”

“I heard he has more training to do with Eutropia.”

“Let’s hope he does better this time.”

Author's Notes:

Well, it took damn long enough on my part, but the chapter is finally out! How about that? We get to learn a bit more about the Tsar's changes, as well as the history behind it, and several more things. Also, this chapter was a bit shorter than I'd have liked, but I just... I needed to get it out there, and I need to make progress on this story as a whole.

Many thanks to MrShortcake and musicman722 for the use of their OCs, Amber Faye and Shortcake, as well as that of Psycho Pwny and their OC, Flint Feet. Look forward to seeing more of them in the future.