"Twilight, Twilight!"

The door to her rooms in the Saddle Arabian embassy, startling the Princess and her dragon assistant. Spike carefully put down the piece of fragile glassware he was unpacking, and turned to see Sweetie Belle, sides heaving with exertion.

"Sweetie?" Twilight lowered the cargo checklist she was reading. "What's up?"

"It's Rarity! She's supposed to host the fete tomorrow, but the tea she brought spoiled on the ship, and nopony sells it here… they all drink coffee! But she's supposed to be introducing these Saddle Arabians to Equestrian culture, and, and—"

"And she can't concentrate because this is the 'worst possible thing'?" Twilight's tone was dry.

"Yes!"

"Well." Twilight looked out small windows, set high in the bare stone walls, and looked to her assistant. "Spike, take care of this, will you?"

"Aw, Twilight!" Spike groaned. "You said I could look around the city when we were done here!"

"You can look around the city while you do this." Twilight smiled slightly. "Do it for Rarity? Please?"

"Well, if you put it that way…" Spike nodded. "For Rarity."

"Here." Twilight reached into her mane and pulled out a small purse. "Go find us some tea. Whatever it takes."

"Aye aye." Spike snapped off a small salute and headed for the door. "Come on, Sweetie. Let's see what we can do."

"Where do we even start?" Sweetie gave him an uncertain look.

"Dunno, so we'd better ask." He shrugged and led her towards the front of the building.

---

"'Scuse us." Spike rapped once on the open door of the embassy office, stepping into a cluttered room. A desk stood in the center, with pigeon-holed wooden racks lining the walls. Scrolls and letters were neatly stacked in cubbies, and more documents piled on the desk, half-covering a tall white mare. "Green Eye?"

"Ah, yes?" The Saddle Arabian looked up from her work. "Is all the cargo here? Are your rooms alright?"

"Oh, it's fine, it's fine." Spike waved away her concern. "Twilight's double-checking now, but it should all be good. Just a little glitch in the fete Rarity had planned. Say, you know where we can find tea for sale in the city?"

"Oh, tea." Green Eye chewed her lip uncertainly for a moment. "Well, it's a little complicated... the city council keeps a firm hoof on the traders. They decided they wanted a closer trade relationship with our eastern neighbors, so they tax tea and subsidize coffee. It's too expensive for any but the very rich, so it's never caught on."

"Hmm." Spike pondered that. "How much would it cost, say, to serve…" He calculated in his head a moment, counting the number of tables Rarity had been planning for, the amount of invitations that had been sent out. "Seventy guests?"

"More bits than I make in a year." Green Eye frowned. "But honestly, I don't know if you could find that much tea in the city. It's a curiosity here, simply not sold in bulk."

"Come on, give me something to work with." Spike crossed his arms. "Somepony's got to sell it."

"Oh, they do. Just not much or often. No, if you're going to find any tea at all, you need to ask at the Jewel of the Sands. If anypony knows, it will be them."

"Got directions?"

"Of course." The mare scribbled on a scrap of paper, before passing it over. "Good luck."

"Thanks." Spike nodded.

---

Spike led Sweetie confidently through the streets, glancing occasionally at the scrap of paper he held.

The sun hammered down, glowing off the white stone of the buildings and the loose wraps the Saddle Arabians wore to keep off the sand. Even in the center of the city grit sifted through the streets, whipped into the air by eddies and curls of the unceasing sea breeze. At dusk it would settle for a few moments, before reversing, drifting back towards the ocean.

They eventually stopped at a tall, ornate building. It had no signs, and not a single pony going in or out.

"You sure this is the right place?" Sweetie Belle stopped Spike as he headed for the door.

"It's what the directions say." Spike shrugged.

"But it looks so, so…" She trailed off.

"Imposing?" Spike grinned.

"Yeah. Like they don't want anypony coming in."

"That's how you can tell they're rich." Spike nodded and turned back to the door.

"Are you sure we can do this?" Sweetie asked quietly, as he turned the knob, not even pausing to knock.

"Why not?" Spike shot back. "We're on a mission."

"But—" Sweetie cut off as warm, rich scents wafted out of the shady interior.

"Look, it'll be fine." Spike puffed up his chest. "I'm Twilight's number-one assistant. I do this sort of thing all the time. This is for Rarity, remember? Now, come on." He put a claw on her withers and drew her into the room.

The inside of the building was filled to overflowing with rich. Tapestries and rugs, gleaming with rare dyes and thread-of-gold, were piled with artful abandon between jars of spices, masterful and mysterious statues and paintings depicting unknown and fantastic things. Wherever Sweetie looked, her eyes fell on something fabulous, exotic, or just plain expensive. Spike licked his teeth at gems larger than his head, and sighed soulfully over exquisitely molded gold and silver jewelry.

There wasn't a single price-tag in sight, and Sweetie instantly knew this was the sort of store that would make even Rarity hesitate.

Spike, however, simply drew in a deep breath, and yelled.

"Hello!?"

The overloud call was sucked away by the surroundings, drawn into emptiness by the soft cloth and twisting, turning alleyways between wares. After a moment, however, soft hoofsteps could be heard.

"Hello." A tall, elegant pony, like all Saddle Arabians seemed to be, quickly emerged from somewhere in the back. A white mane spilled over her brown coat, shining in the gloom. A slender, white pipe was in her teeth, curls of thin white smoke wafting upwards. "Can I help you, children?"

"Maybe." Spike spoke easily. "We want some tea."

"Ask your parents." She turned to go.

"Ahem." Spike coughed. She looked back, and he held out the note Green Eyes had written. She read it a few times, her eyebrows climbing.

"I see." She puffed, breathing a drifting cloud. "You'll be needing my husband, then. Darjeeling!" She called towards the back. "Customers!"

"What is it now?" A short, stout pony, wearing a crumpled black suit, ambled out of the back. "Meerschaum, dearest, you know I hate working after noon."

"They're from Green Eyes," the tall mare said.

"Ah?" Darjeeling paused, giving the pair a quick once-over. "Well, that changes things a little. What can I do for you?"

"How much tea," Spike asked, "does it take to make a cup?"

"Three grams."

"Then we'll need…" He tapped his chin, muttering. "…guests…two cups… A little under a pound, I think. Twelve ounces should do. Loose-leaf, of course, unless you have bricks, and no fannings or dust."

"I, uh…" Darjeeling blinked at them owlishly for a moment. "I don't think any store in the city has that much tea."

"What about all the stores in the city?" Spike crossed his arms, giving the pony a nonplussed glare.

"Uh, uh…" The older pony paused, chewing his lip. "Not that I know of. Perhaps if I had a week, I could—"

"No good." Spike dismissed the idea with a flip of his claw. "I need it by tomorrow night."

"You're sunk." Darjeeling shrugged.

"Perhaps with a spell…?" Sweetie suggested.

"Nah, that won't work. Tea can't take dragonfire, and teleporting any distance we could get it introduces too much margin-of-error." Spike scratched his head.

"Hmm, hmm." Meerschaum chewed the end of her pipe, before grinning. "Say, you know who might have some, darling?" She looked to her husband. "Hathi."

"Oh, he might…" The shorter pony considered the idea briefly, before frowning. "There's no way he would part with it, though. You know him."

"Who's Hathi?" Spike interjected.

"A rich foreigner, an elephant who's constitution drove him to a drier climate. He's from the west, Howondaland I think, and he likes his tea, hang the cost."

"Hmm." Spike mulled that over. "Okay, thanks. I guess I'll go talk to him."

"Wait, wait." Meerschaum frowned around her pipe. "I wasn't exactly serious. Hathi doesn't meet ponies. You'll need to—"

"Ah, we'll manage." Spike waved her off airily. "Come on, Sweetie. We need to keep moving."

The shop owners watched them go with bemused expressions.

---

"Hold on!" Sweetie pulled Spike to a stop as they reach a tall wrought iron gate. Inside, she could see fountains and manicured lawns, immaculate stone paths and deep, emerald shade. Hathi might have come here for a drier climate, but apparently he wasn't much a fan of sand, either. "What are we doing here? You can't seriously plan to just… knock, can you?"

"What?" Spike looked back at her. "No, no. That would never work."

"Oh, then—"

"We're breaking in, of course."

"Spike!" Sweetie wailed.

"Calm down, calm down! I'm only half serious." She watched nervously as the dragon rummaged around in his pouch, coming up with a quill and parchment. He penned a quick note, before burning it with a touch of flame. The green sparks wafted through the gate.

Spike leaned against the wall, relaxing easily in the shade. Sweetie bounced nervously, anxious and uncertain. After a few long minutes, a key turned in the gate, and tall Saddle Arabian beckoned them in. Spike grinned re-assuringly at Sweetie, and let the way.

They walked through the cool gardens, taking smaller paths through shady groves of trees heavy with blossoms and over pony-crafted streams.

"Spike," Sweetie mumbled, "are you sure this is worth it?"

"Come on, it's for Rarity and Twilight," he shot back. "Besides, if I couldn't even manage this much, what sort of an assistant would I be? You don't think some dragon gets the title Number One by sitting around, did you?"

"N-no, I guess not," Sweetie mumbled.

Their escort ushered them through a small door in the side of the huge mansion at the center of the expansive grounds. They found themselves in an open and breezy sitting room, lace curtains fluttering around windows thrown wide.

A tall white unicorn, wearing an immaculate suit, was sitting at a low table with a frosty pitcher and three glasses. "Good to see you here, boss. Didn't expect you this soon." He looked up and smiled at Spike, and Sweetie Belle froze in shock.

"Blueblood!" she shrieked.

"Keep it down!" Spike winced. "Anyways, you can't call him that here."

"I go by Butler." The unicorn offered her a friendly smile.

"But… but…" The filly's eyes skittered around the room as she tried to make sense of the situation. "What?"

"Sorry, Sweetie." Spike ran a claw down his face. "I didn't think you'd recognize him."

"Rarity has this little pincushion, and—"

"Ouch." Blueblood - Butler - winced. "Sorry, I guess. But I don't have much choice, with this job..." He sighed.

"What."

"Well," Spike said, "Twilight and Rarity are our official delegation to Saddle Arabia this year. They're here to promote relations and learn about the culture. But, see, not everything we want to know is easily learned through official channels…" He trailed off, and nodded to Blueblood, who smiled and filled the glasses on the table with orange juice.

"I get my marching orders through Spike, here. Nothing beats dragon fire for discrete and long distance. Anyways, boss, I don't know if I've got anything new—"

"No, no, this is something else." Spike waved him away. "Actually, we need to talk to Hathi."

"About?"

"We're trying to buy some tea."

"Huh." Blueblood thought for a minute. "I think I can help with that."

---

"Remember, Sweetie, you're pretending to be the assistant here." Blueblood passed her a quill and paper, which she hesitantly levitated.

"But I'm not very good at notes…"

"Don't worry about that." Spiked patted her withers. "I'll remember anything important. Just follow me, and try to look studious."

Sweetie awkwardly adjusted the small glasses they'd found for a 'disguise', and nodded. Blueblood gave them a once-over, and stepped into the hall.

He led them confidently through the mansion, nodding to a few ponies, down wide halls with high ceilings and through open galleries looking out over the landscaped grounds. When they reached their destination, he turned back and winked, before slipping through an extra-wide double door.

As they waited, Sweetie and Spike heard a murmured conversation from within. Blueblood quickly returned, waving them through.

Sweetie tried not to stare as they walked through a room so overgrown with greenery, it was hard to believe they were inside. Wide glass skylights poured sunlight onto lush, dark leaves, and small waterworks tinkled in the background. It wasn't quite muggy in here, some trick of ventilation and magic keeping the air cool and pleasant.

"Greetings."

Sweetie jumped at the booming voice, but Spike shot her a glance and she forced herself to look composed. Sitting at a table which rose far above their heads was the biggest person Sweetie had ever seen. She knew elephants from pictures, but the reality didn't even compare. He was larger than some of the houses in Ponyville, gray and wrinkled and immensely here, with long, jagged tusks and a sinuous trunk.

Spike bowed slightly, and she hurried to do likewise.

"Thank you for meeting us, Hathi," Spike said.

"Mmm. My butler can be most persuasive." Hathi glared at Blueblood, who appeared not to notice. "His work is worth a few annoyances, though."

"Really?" Spike grinned. "I'll try to be entertaining, at least."

"Ho-ho! Come up, then, and let me hear your proposal." The elephant waved them forwards with his trunk.

Spike led the way, and Sweetie saw that the 'table' had a staircase spiraling up one side of it. The climbed it easily, finding that the top had a smaller table, with a chess game and cold glasses set on it. Spike took a seat uninvited, directly behind the game board.

"Nice set." He picked up a pawn and inspected it. "Serpentine?" He sniffed it and frowned. "Jade, huh. More expensive, but a little bitter for my tastes."

"We're not going to eat it," Hathi grumbled.

"Ah, fine." Spike moved a piece. "Well then, let's talk business."

Sweetie watched curiously as the dragon and the elephant played and talked, making quick moves and incisive quips. It took several minutes before the subject of tea even came up, and once it did, the two seemed to dance carefully around the subject.

"What are they doing?" Sweetie whispered to Blueblood, as he refilled her orange juice.

"Evading taxes," the spy replied. "Just give them a few minutes."

"Check, and mate," Spike said. Hathi surveyed the board for a long breath, before sighing and tipping over his king.

"Well played, wrymling." He shoved the board aside. "Then, do we have an agreement?"

"Eh, it'll do." Spike shrugged. "Could be better, but seems fair enough to me."

"Spoken like a true skinflint." Hathi grinned. "Well then, I can arrange delivery as soon as you have my payment."

"Sounds good." Spike pulled out his quill and paper again, scribbling another note, which he proceeded to burn away.

"What?" The elephant blinked.

"Give it a moment…" Spike held up a claw until his eyes crossed and his stomach bulged. He turned and belched loudly, a torrent of golden bits spilling from his mouth in a long, glittering stream to pile on the floor. Blueblood walked over to Hathi, and handed him a small bundle.

"I hope you don't want to count it," Spike wheezed. "Phew!"

"No, I will trust you." The elephant passed the parcel Blueblood at brought over to the dragon. "And I hope you don't need to weigh this?"

Spike tossed the small paper-wrapped bundle from claw to claw a few times before nodding. "It's all here. Come on, Sweetie, let's go."

"Where'd you get all those bits anyways?" Sweetie asked, as they walked out.

"Diplomatic slush fund." The dragon picked his teeth. "They won't even miss it, but the paperwork for this is going to be a bore."

---

"Watch it!" Spike grabbed Sweetie as she reached for the kettle. "Look, just… stand over there, alright?"

They were back in the embassy, and brewing a cup of tea. Spike took the boiling kettle off the stove, letting it calm before pouring the it into the mugs he'd prepared. After steeping for two minutes he strained them, and then passed one to Sweetie. She took it carefully, and led the way to the office her sister was borrowing.

"—and then there will be nothing to drink with the scones, Twilight! It will all be a disaster, and everypony will blame me!"

"Look, Rarity, I'm sure—"

The two mares cut off as Sweetie and Spike entered, each carrying a steaming mug. Twilight was rubbing her forehead, and Rarity was rubbing her eyes, both of them standing behind a desk stacked with the minutia of organizing a party — without Pinkie's preternatural skills.

"Hey Twilight, hey Rarity. We thought you might like a cup of tea." Spike grinned, offering Rarity his mug. Her expression shifted to puzzlement, then to surprise, and finally to gratitude as she took the mug and sniffed deeply.

"My, Spike! This is perfect!" She sipped gently, and smiled. "Amazing, even. Where ever did you manage to find tea?"

"Oh, you know." The dragon ran a claw over his ridges, looking away. "Just asked around, here and there."

"See?" Twilight sighed. "I told you it was nothing to worry about, Rarity. Spike's a wonderful assistant. He can handle a simple shopping trip, no problem."

"Thank you so much, Spikey-Wikey." Rarity smiled at him, and he sighed. "And Sweetie, thank you for helping him out."

"Aw, it's nothing." Spike grinned and nudged Sweetie with an elbow. "I can handle this much, at least."

"Y-yeah," Sweetie said. "It was nothing special, really." She grinned back at him, and he winked.

"Really, nothing at all to it."