It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. It was the age of magic. It was the age of foalish stupidity. It was the era of friendship. It was the era of selfishness. It was an epoch of prosperity. It was an epoch of intense hardship. We were living in the joyous reign of Princess Celestia, following her victorious defeat of Nightmare Moon. We were living in the bitter post-conflict reality, forever separated from Princess Luna. We had been saved from the terror of the eternal night. We would endure the long bleak late-afternoons, where the sun would linger for hours just above the horizon, as everypony knew Celestia was staring at the solar orb, with tears running down her face, trying to muster the strength to lower it and raise the moon, but knowing that when she did, the sight would break her heart, as it had every evening for the past forty years.

In the office of the Canterlot Town Hall, we clerks sat at our writing desks, copying the documents pertaining to legal transactions from across the city: the import of luxury goods, construction of new airships, purchase of property and the building of new towers. Thus we had a full overview of the state of our world. The city was thriving, growing rich from the profit from trade with far off lands. The loss of the Crystal Empire had not held Equestria back, but spurred the explorers and merchants to discover new lands and establish new markets. Airship technology had shot ahead, and the huge merchant vessels plied the trade routes, bringing back tea and spices from Hindustan; coffee and perfume from Griffonia; gold, jewels and chocolate from the Llama Empire. In return the city exported manufactured goods and fine woven cloth. Canterlot was the nexus of a worldwide trading network where the sun never set.

Not that we directly saw any of this wealth. A town hall clerk was paid two bits a month, which just covered the rent and food for my family. The only luxury I could afford was the cheap red ribbons and bows I tied in my tail and mane to add a bit of colour to my somewhat dull grey coat and pale green mane.

Our contract was to work until sundown, so we sat at our desks, levitating quills above the documents we were working on, wondering how long it would be until the sun would finally signal closing time. None of us had watches, so we had no precise notion how far behind schedule the day had slipped until the Lord Mare walked out of her private office holding her golden watch on a chain.

“Two and a half hours late! It’s time to go and give her highness a prod in the royal backside.”

She glanced along the row of desks, and for some reason picked me.

“Tick Scribbler—accompany me!”

I left my desk and followed the boss out of the Town Hall. Silver-Gilt Mace, the Lord Mare of Canterlot was one of the most powerful ponies in the city. Perhaps the most powerful, except for the princess of course, but everypony knew that the princess had little time to deal with the day-to-day city affairs. She was in an ill humour and did not speak. I knew better than to take the liberty of trying to start a conversation. My job was to take notes, to return to the Town Hall if she found she had forgotten anything and run any other errands.

We walked up the cobbled streets which ran back and forth up the steep gradients of the city. This part of the town was full of smart houses, with neat symmetric facades, made from smooth stone. The homes of lawyers and merchants. Behind these rose the majestic white towers of the homes of the aristocracy, many still under construction. We passed a house where a mare was arguing with her two little foals on the doorstep.

“But you said we could play in the street until sunset! It’s not fair,” wailed the young colt as his mother dragged him through the door.

We continued until we reached the gates of Canterlot Castle, guarded by two unicorn guards in uniform.

“Tell Her Highness Princess Celestia that Lord Mare Silver-Gilt Mace has arrived and will speak with her at once.”

The guard replied with the neutral voice of one used to being shouted at by figures of authority.

“Her Royal Highness is not in the castle at present.”

“Where is she?”

“I saw her leave four hours ago when she went for her afternoon tea. She has not returned.”

The Lord Mare swore loudly at the guard before turning and trotting off down the street. I hurried after her. She turned into the fashionable part of the New Town and onto a street lined with elegant tea rooms, where the upper echelons of Canterlot society sat drinking tea, seated on plush cushions at small tables in terraced gardens enjoying the spectacular views over the cliff.

We walked into one of the largest tea rooms, where waiters dressed in the finest clothes were rushing from table to table levitating silver tea pots, porcelain cups, jugs of milk and cream, and plates of fruit cake and scones, all before them. The lingering afternoon sun had brought in extra customers, and the staff were evidently rushed off their hooves dealing with them all. I could see in their eyes that tired-but-resigned look of those who do not know when the day will ever end.

“Where is the princess?” shouted Silver-Gilt to the room. When nopony came forward, she grabbed at a passing server causing him to drop a plate of cake. “Where is Celestia? This is her favourite tea room. Has she been here?”

“S-she was here for her afternoon tea,” stammered the poor stallion. “She had her usual p-peppermint and three pieces of fudge cake. I-I don’t know where she is now.”

“Where has she gone? Somepony must have seen her leave. Which direction did she go?”

The unicorn stammered a few syllables, but had no answer. Fortunately one of the customers, a grey-maned unicorn stallion wearing a black jacket and monocle answered her.

“I saw her on Tower Street, maybe an hour or two ago, she was heading for Loriner’s Coffee House.”

The Lord Mare turned and walked out without pausing to say thank you.

Five minutes later, two streets away, we walked through the doorway of Loriner’s—an elegant structure with a carved archway supported by columns of the finest stone. This was the establishment frequented by the airship captains and ship owners, where they would meet to arrange insurance and discuss the latest news. Behind the bar was hung a formal portrait of Princess Celestia. A curtain was hung in front of a second portrait of Princess Luna, as the sight of it was too disturbing, but nopony had yet dared to suggest removing it. There was no sign of the Princess herself.

At the bar a pegasus and a unicorn, both dressed in merchant navy uniforms sat discussing a silver watch placed on the bar.

“I’ll give you twenty bits for it,” said the pegasus.

“That’s ridiculous! It’s a model 23 chronometer in mint condition. I bought it new for over four hundred. It served me well for many years, letting me accurately pin down our longitude when high above the clouds, away from all landmarks.”

“But not much use now is it? With the length of the day so random, the best chronometer in the world won’t let you tell your longitude these days.”

“Where is the princess?” demanded the Lord Mare in her usual tone.

The barpony, waiters and customers stared back.

“She was here an hour ago,” said one.

“And?”

“She had a mocha, and a large chocolate and black cherry gateau.”

“Where is she now?”

“I don’t know. She seemed kind of pensive, we didn’t want to bother her.”

The Lord Mare glared at the audience until eventually a waitress ventured a reply.

“When she left, she was heading towards the Old Town.”

“The Old Town! Are you sure?”

“Yes. She was walking slowly down Numnah Lane, past the air docks.”

We left the coffee house and hit the road again. Canterlot Old Town was quite different from the new. The buildings had been badly damaged by blasts of stray magic during Celestia’s fight with Nightmare Moon, and then rebuilt quickly using cheap materials. The water and sewer system was inadequate and the streets were full of filth. This part of the city housed the dock workers and crystal pony immigrants—who had fled the Crystal Empire before the war and now had no home to return to. There were hundreds, maybe thousands, living here in overcrowded housing. Their coats no longer had any of the crystal shine they were reported to have once had. The lucky ones had found jobs—the skilled jewellers working in the city’s clock and instrument factories, those with a strong back, loading and unloading the airships. But there were always far more ponies than paying jobs.

The Lord Mare was out of place here and her temper was getting worse. She clearly wanted somepony to shout at. But the ponies we passed made great effort to get out of her way and would not meet her eye. The dock workers trotted past quickly ignoring us. I noticed a dark purple mare sat in a doorway, looking at the ground, presumably without a home of her own. I walked over to her.

“If you please. Have you seen Princess Celestia pass by? A large white winged unicorn.”

She answered without looking up. “I know who she is. She passed maybe half an hour ago. She went to Jerry’s place.”

“Thank you.”

“Can you spare some change Miss?”

I looked at the Lord Mare, but she shot back a venomous glare.

“If you want a handout, go to the workhouse.”

I looked at the young mare, thinking how easily I could be in her position if I lost my current job. I had no coin, so I pulled the ribbon from my mane and pushed in into her hoof. Not much, but she might be able to trade it for a meal.

Donut Jerry’s was probably the cheapest eatery in the city. It was a wooden shack at the foot of the Old Town, catering mainly for the earth pony navvies brought in from Baltimare to dig the earthworks for the new railway (which promised to one day allow anypony to travel from Canterlot to the east coast in under twelve hours—anypony who could afford the fare, that is). The food here had none of the exotic flavours you could find higher up in the city, just plain flour-dough deep fried and covered with sugar. Good honest food.

We pushed open the wooden door and walked in. The room was packed with every colour of earth ponies, crystal ponies, unicorns and pegasi. In the middle, at the bar, stood Princess Celestia. Her white coat was covered with specks of dirt, as well as coffee and chocolate stains. Her multi-coloured mane was full of sugar crumbs.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” said the bartender.

“Another doughnut! Extra sprinkles!” Celestia thumped a mug of milk down on the counter, and by royal authority, got what she asked for.

The Lord Mare pushed her way through the crowd, then drawing herself up to her full height, addressed the princess.

“You Highness. I do not know what you are doing here, but I insist that you come outside this minute, lower the sun, then return to the palace.”

Celestia turned to face her, but for a long time did not answer. When she did speak it was not at first clear if she was addressing the Lord Mare, or speaking to herself.

“At this time of day, I always think of my sister, and it fills me with sadness to remember how I lost her. Yet I will live long enough that I can hope to see her again… Today, on a whim, I walked down into Old Canterlot… I met a mare who lost her father, mother, sister and many friends when the Crystal Empire fell, and she will never see them again. I did not know what to say to her… I met a young mother caring for five young foals in a filthy little hovel, with barely a cup of oats to feed them. She had lost three other foals to illness, which it is hard to believe would have killed them had they been properly fed and accommodated.”

“That is not your or my concern.”

“I met a father who had sent his children to the workhouse as he could not afford to feed them.”

“We cannot help these ponies. They must help themselves. If they are not prepared to work—”

“He was working a fifteen hour day assembling cardboard boxes. But that did not pay enough to feed his family.”

“That is his problem.”

“In a city as rich as this?”

“We cannot reward poverty. It is up to everypony to work hard and help themselves.”

“It’s not their fault!” I blurted out before I could stop myself. “How can they work when there are no jobs? How can they help themselves when they have nothing?”

The Lord Mare ignored me and repeated her order to Celestia. “I insist that you come outside this minute and lower the sun.”

Celestia walked past us and out through the door. We followed her. Outside, she spread her wings and flew up onto a large pile of earth, left to the side from the railway workings. There she sat staring at the red sun on the western horizon. As we watched, she lit up her horn and directed the sun down below the horizon, then, a moment later, turned to the other side of the sky and lifted the moon up in its place. She sat staring at it. She was too far away for us to see if she was crying.

“About time,” said the Lord Mare. She turned and trotted away, impatient to return to the clean streets of the New Town. She probably expected me to follow her, but as the sun had now set, I was no longer at her command. I stayed where I was watching the princess. Eventually she turned around and flew down, landing in front of me.

“What is your name my little pony?”

“I’m Tick Scribbler,” I said.

“You work for Silver-Gilt?”

I nodded.

“Well little Tick. There is much I need to do.”

She reached out to touch my face with a hoof.

“I am in need of an assistant. Would you come and work for me instead?”