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Organised by
RogerDodger
Word limit
400–750
All In
Few know it, but in Equestria there still exists a form of slavery, though without the clanking iron chains, nor the whip’s salt-sting. Instead, this new servitude demands total commitment, devotion, and subjugation.
“Do you know why alicorns are so few and far between, Student? Equestria is a country of four hundred millions, spread over sixty-four commanderies and seven-hundred eighty-six prefectures; the waters of twenty rivers flood the land every Inundation, and the howling winds carry three deserts’ sand every summer.”
Princess Twilight Sparkle sat, winter’s cold barely ameliorated by the sputtering fire behind, stony eyes losing luster from countless sleepless nights. She blinked – in that split-second she dreamed, of the Castle's polished crystalline floors, of the musty smell of books wafting in the air – her eyes re-opened.
Why did she ever agree to this? It seemed such a long time ago: she remembered reasons to do with ‘returning’ her mentor’s favor (Ha! How naïve), about propagating the family name, perhaps simple, sheer ignorance. But at heart, the decision came out of that uniquely intellectual faith – the belief that I owe my success to the toil of a thousands unseen unknowns, and it is my duty to repay them, through total devotion and total commitment to their welfare.
“Banish the thought of yourself from the work, Student. Whenever you use the words ‘I’ or ‘we’, you open yourself to partiality – and that is when the rot sets in.”
Enough dallying. Twilight’s back creaked as she raised her head, leveling with her newest task. It was a cyan pegasus, though to the alicorn she appeared teal-green. Of course she knew who it was; of course she could not reveal the well-known fact. She avoided the inevitable, pleading gaze.
“Defendant: Rainbow Dash. Guilty of an unauthorized use of potential mass-casualty phenomena over civilian habitations.” Her voice was sandpaper-coarse; it felt like it.
Overtaxed by the effort, Twilight suddenly lurched forward coughing – dry, hacking rasps, variants of which had gone on for months, attempting to dislodge a certain bit of mucus that had stuck in the throat. A futile gesture.
“Equestria is a land ruled by Law, Student, under which every pony is equal. The code is onerous beyond compare; we cannot expect the average pony to assume it. So we take on the burden, ourselves.”
Twilight continued to stare at the table. Her neck hurt, a little, whenever she straightened it; so she told herself. “Sentence is about to be passed: the Defendant is invited to submit pleas for consideration.”
A sudden deluge of papers on her desk, her chin nudged upwards by a thousand paper-sheets. She glimpsed the pegasus; her eyes quickly shut. It was only fair that she picked a letter randomly, or so went the explanation. It did not matter – letter after letter, parchment after parchment, the same words: The Sonic Rainboom was what saved our town… please, Princess, spare Rainbow Dash…
“You think that the ponies can govern themselves? Silly girl – have you ever met a pony from the Baltimare slums, or from the Northern Wastes? Have you seen them fight, tear themselves apart for the basest of reasons?”
Twilight had seen enough. “I don’t doubt the Defendant’s motives for breaking the Law. But this is a major repeating offence, and Equestrian law allows only one sentence for major repeating offences…”
“Is your solution any better? How long can this system last? How long do you think I can stand this endless, thankless work? How long before I rebel against this self-effacement, this self-destruction, this self-misery? How long, Teacher?”
A slight pause; a mysterious smile. “I know you, Twilight Sparkle. You may complain about your work, you may hate it – but you will never reject it. Because whatever you do, you do so with full commitment; you go all in.”
Teacher spoke the truth, however uncomfortable it was to hear. One day, perhaps, somepony would come up with a better system, one less dependent on the virtues of the alicorns – but until then, Twilight Sparkle was darn right going to give it her all, put it all in, in her terrible, miserable role as Equestria’s lawgiver.
“Rainbow Dash!” the alicorn announced, tossing a tablet of sentence before the cyan pegasus. “For your repeated offence in activating a Sonic Rainboom, you are hereby banished to the Moon for life!”
Few know it, but in Equestria, there still exists a form of slavery – the slavery demanded of its alicorns.
“Do you know why alicorns are so few and far between, Student? Equestria is a country of four hundred millions, spread over sixty-four commanderies and seven-hundred eighty-six prefectures; the waters of twenty rivers flood the land every Inundation, and the howling winds carry three deserts’ sand every summer.”
Princess Twilight Sparkle sat, winter’s cold barely ameliorated by the sputtering fire behind, stony eyes losing luster from countless sleepless nights. She blinked – in that split-second she dreamed, of the Castle's polished crystalline floors, of the musty smell of books wafting in the air – her eyes re-opened.
Why did she ever agree to this? It seemed such a long time ago: she remembered reasons to do with ‘returning’ her mentor’s favor (Ha! How naïve), about propagating the family name, perhaps simple, sheer ignorance. But at heart, the decision came out of that uniquely intellectual faith – the belief that I owe my success to the toil of a thousands unseen unknowns, and it is my duty to repay them, through total devotion and total commitment to their welfare.
“Banish the thought of yourself from the work, Student. Whenever you use the words ‘I’ or ‘we’, you open yourself to partiality – and that is when the rot sets in.”
Enough dallying. Twilight’s back creaked as she raised her head, leveling with her newest task. It was a cyan pegasus, though to the alicorn she appeared teal-green. Of course she knew who it was; of course she could not reveal the well-known fact. She avoided the inevitable, pleading gaze.
“Defendant: Rainbow Dash. Guilty of an unauthorized use of potential mass-casualty phenomena over civilian habitations.” Her voice was sandpaper-coarse; it felt like it.
Overtaxed by the effort, Twilight suddenly lurched forward coughing – dry, hacking rasps, variants of which had gone on for months, attempting to dislodge a certain bit of mucus that had stuck in the throat. A futile gesture.
“Equestria is a land ruled by Law, Student, under which every pony is equal. The code is onerous beyond compare; we cannot expect the average pony to assume it. So we take on the burden, ourselves.”
Twilight continued to stare at the table. Her neck hurt, a little, whenever she straightened it; so she told herself. “Sentence is about to be passed: the Defendant is invited to submit pleas for consideration.”
A sudden deluge of papers on her desk, her chin nudged upwards by a thousand paper-sheets. She glimpsed the pegasus; her eyes quickly shut. It was only fair that she picked a letter randomly, or so went the explanation. It did not matter – letter after letter, parchment after parchment, the same words: The Sonic Rainboom was what saved our town… please, Princess, spare Rainbow Dash…
“You think that the ponies can govern themselves? Silly girl – have you ever met a pony from the Baltimare slums, or from the Northern Wastes? Have you seen them fight, tear themselves apart for the basest of reasons?”
Twilight had seen enough. “I don’t doubt the Defendant’s motives for breaking the Law. But this is a major repeating offence, and Equestrian law allows only one sentence for major repeating offences…”
“Is your solution any better? How long can this system last? How long do you think I can stand this endless, thankless work? How long before I rebel against this self-effacement, this self-destruction, this self-misery? How long, Teacher?”
A slight pause; a mysterious smile. “I know you, Twilight Sparkle. You may complain about your work, you may hate it – but you will never reject it. Because whatever you do, you do so with full commitment; you go all in.”
Teacher spoke the truth, however uncomfortable it was to hear. One day, perhaps, somepony would come up with a better system, one less dependent on the virtues of the alicorns – but until then, Twilight Sparkle was darn right going to give it her all, put it all in, in her terrible, miserable role as Equestria’s lawgiver.
“Rainbow Dash!” the alicorn announced, tossing a tablet of sentence before the cyan pegasus. “For your repeated offence in activating a Sonic Rainboom, you are hereby banished to the Moon for life!”
Few know it, but in Equestria, there still exists a form of slavery – the slavery demanded of its alicorns.