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Organised by
RogerDodger
Word limit
400–750
The Castle on the Corner
It took a few hours, but eventually Trestle managed to escape the party being held in his honor, and he found himself alone on a high balcony overlooking the University of Canterlot’s academic quadrant. Below him, stretched out for acres, ponies turned the green into a festival, filled with paper lanterns and bonfires and circles of live music. The dull roar of a thousand conversations, pocked with laughter and shouts, rolled over him.
Joy was not the only emotion present. Trestle watched one small group of mares with tears in their eyes, all wearing gowns and holding each other tightly. They seemed to be smiling, though, and laughing.
The balcony door slid open, and a dark brown stallion stepped out to join him. They both gazed over the railing in silence.
“Gonna miss it?” Hickory asked.
Trestle shook his head. “No, four years is plenty. Time to get some real work done.”
“Yeah, I hear you. Decide what you’re going to do with that prize?”
Trestle patted his vest pocket with a hoof. The envelope bearing Celestia’s letter was still inside. It seemed heavier than mere paper ought, as though it carried with it all the weight of her expectations.
“I want to build something different.”
“Don’t all architects?”
“No.” Trestle lifted a hoof, point at Canterlot’s skyline, still visible in the early evening light. “Look at those buildings. What do you see?”
“Hm.” Hickory squinted. “Bunch of towers?”
“The thick ones are towers. The slender ones with the domes are minarets. The pointy ones are spires or steeples. Every building in Canterlot has them, whether they’re useful or not.”
“They look pretty.”
“Eh, some do,” Trestle said. “But that’s not why they’re there. They exist to draw the eye upward, to lead ponies’ gazes to the sky and heavens. Canterlot forces ponies to look away from the earth.”
“It’s Celestia’s city. Isn’t that the point?”
“But what if it wasn’t? What if Celestia doesn’t want ponies always looking up at the sky? What if she wants us to look at each other?”
“She probably wouldn’t live on a mountain, then.” Hickory craned his neck back to peer at the castle hanging on the mountainside above them.
The royal engineers mutinied when they saw his design; many threatened to quit, several actually did. It took a second letter from Celestia, reminding them that Trestle had graduated as the top architect in his class, and thus earned her gift, to bring them into line.
Celestia offered him several spots in Canterlot for his work. She never asked to see his blueprints, or the artist’s rendition of his designs. She wanted to be surprised, she said.
Eventually, Trestle settled on an old, derelict guard barracks adjacent to a park at the foot of the mountain. It wasn’t the ritziest part of Canterlot, or the wealthiest, but it sat almost directly on the path leading to Celestia’s castle. They cleared the building away in a season.
Construction took years. Celestia must have seen it every day, looking out her window, but whenever they met she simply smiled, and said she looked forward to seeing it done. Trestle never saw any expression other than a smile on her face, though, so perhaps she was just being polite.
It took four years to bring his creation to life. It was solid, yet graceful; pink granite blocks, the color of warmth, cut into smooth pieces. The central building rose several stories, open and inviting, with wide windows and balconies all around. Despite its immense size, it seemed to have no weight.
His castle’s wings spread out, hugging the base of the mountain. They flowed around the earth, sweeping with its shape, never imposing theirs. The white marble buildings all around, with their towers and sharp angles, seemed like teeth in comparison.
Ponies hated it.
They begged Celestia to tear it down. They threatened to move away. It “destroyed the city’s aesthetic,” or “insulted her majesty with its stupid, squat shape.”
For her part, Celestia smiled as always, and thanked him with a kiss on the cheek when it was done.
As the centuries passed, ponies forgot they were supposed to hate Trestle’s Castle, as it became known. They spoke of its lovely color, and how they could see the whole thing without having to crane their necks. Celestia purchased it, and it became her winter retreat.
There are still towers now in Canterlot, but fewer of them.
Joy was not the only emotion present. Trestle watched one small group of mares with tears in their eyes, all wearing gowns and holding each other tightly. They seemed to be smiling, though, and laughing.
The balcony door slid open, and a dark brown stallion stepped out to join him. They both gazed over the railing in silence.
“Gonna miss it?” Hickory asked.
Trestle shook his head. “No, four years is plenty. Time to get some real work done.”
“Yeah, I hear you. Decide what you’re going to do with that prize?”
Trestle patted his vest pocket with a hoof. The envelope bearing Celestia’s letter was still inside. It seemed heavier than mere paper ought, as though it carried with it all the weight of her expectations.
“I want to build something different.”
“Don’t all architects?”
“No.” Trestle lifted a hoof, point at Canterlot’s skyline, still visible in the early evening light. “Look at those buildings. What do you see?”
“Hm.” Hickory squinted. “Bunch of towers?”
“The thick ones are towers. The slender ones with the domes are minarets. The pointy ones are spires or steeples. Every building in Canterlot has them, whether they’re useful or not.”
“They look pretty.”
“Eh, some do,” Trestle said. “But that’s not why they’re there. They exist to draw the eye upward, to lead ponies’ gazes to the sky and heavens. Canterlot forces ponies to look away from the earth.”
“It’s Celestia’s city. Isn’t that the point?”
“But what if it wasn’t? What if Celestia doesn’t want ponies always looking up at the sky? What if she wants us to look at each other?”
“She probably wouldn’t live on a mountain, then.” Hickory craned his neck back to peer at the castle hanging on the mountainside above them.
The royal engineers mutinied when they saw his design; many threatened to quit, several actually did. It took a second letter from Celestia, reminding them that Trestle had graduated as the top architect in his class, and thus earned her gift, to bring them into line.
Celestia offered him several spots in Canterlot for his work. She never asked to see his blueprints, or the artist’s rendition of his designs. She wanted to be surprised, she said.
Eventually, Trestle settled on an old, derelict guard barracks adjacent to a park at the foot of the mountain. It wasn’t the ritziest part of Canterlot, or the wealthiest, but it sat almost directly on the path leading to Celestia’s castle. They cleared the building away in a season.
Construction took years. Celestia must have seen it every day, looking out her window, but whenever they met she simply smiled, and said she looked forward to seeing it done. Trestle never saw any expression other than a smile on her face, though, so perhaps she was just being polite.
It took four years to bring his creation to life. It was solid, yet graceful; pink granite blocks, the color of warmth, cut into smooth pieces. The central building rose several stories, open and inviting, with wide windows and balconies all around. Despite its immense size, it seemed to have no weight.
His castle’s wings spread out, hugging the base of the mountain. They flowed around the earth, sweeping with its shape, never imposing theirs. The white marble buildings all around, with their towers and sharp angles, seemed like teeth in comparison.
Ponies hated it.
They begged Celestia to tear it down. They threatened to move away. It “destroyed the city’s aesthetic,” or “insulted her majesty with its stupid, squat shape.”
For her part, Celestia smiled as always, and thanked him with a kiss on the cheek when it was done.
As the centuries passed, ponies forgot they were supposed to hate Trestle’s Castle, as it became known. They spoke of its lovely color, and how they could see the whole thing without having to crane their necks. Celestia purchased it, and it became her winter retreat.
There are still towers now in Canterlot, but fewer of them.