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Celestial Audit
"Raven," Twilight called out from her office, "could you come in here, please?"
"Yes, Princess Twilight?" she answered, poking her head just through the doorway. "Do we need the paper bag again?"
Twilight's ears flattened. "No, I'm fine. I just want you to read this number out loud to me to make sure I'm not delirious or trapped in a horrible nightmare."
Inkwell trotted over to Twilight's desk. "The annual budget?" she asked, eyeing the paper stack on the desk.
"Last page, big red number. Lots of zeroes on the bad side of the decimal. Unless you don't see it, in which case I'm definitely hallucinating and I'll have to be medically sanctioned and tested for fitness to hold office and then Celestia and Luna will have to come back out of retirement only a year and—"
Raven levitated a paper bag over Twilight's muzzle. "Breathe, Princess. Let me see the report..." She let Twilight take over the breathing and skimmed through the papers until she got to the final page, whereupon she let out a slightly surprised hum.
"Well?" Twilight asked, having recovered her composure with a little help from her brown paper friend.
"I am pleased to inform Your Highness that she is not mentally unwell, and is indeed reading the final debt tally on this report as appropriately catastrophic." Raven straightened up the papers and laid them back on Twilight's desk.
"Great! Great. Next question I guess is where did this extra hundred million bit debt come from?!. We went through decades of tax records and policy history to lay the ground work for this year's budget and there wasn't anything to indicate we were in this much trouble!"
"Actually, this is my fault," Raven said. "Please continue breathing normally for a moment longer, Your Highness."
Twilight practiced her breathing exercises while Raven started digging through one of Celestia's old file cabinets, shoving papers aside and pulling out entire folders to reach some prize hidden underneath all the otherwise unremarkable paperwork.
"Here we are," Raven said, holding aloft a stack of whithered yellow forms. "Form PC: 1-G07-7h15, Federal Amicus Memorandum, Emergency Debt. We'll have to make new copies, eventually. This original batch is several centuries old."
Twilight snatched a sheet from the stack. "I've been studying Equestrian finance and tax laws for the last three months nonstop and I have never heard of this form." Her eyes swam across the page, only marginally slowed by the olden style of writing and the faded ink. "I, Princess Celestia, ruler of blah blah blah, titles and accolades, something about a plunger, for the livelihood and prosperity of Equestria, take upon my person a segment of the National Debt valuing Ten Thousand Bits, to be repaid in full to the Treasury upon such a time as it is fiscally stable to do so."
"A little interest adds up over the course of six hundred years or so, doesn't it? The current legal-speak is no less murky than it was six hundred years ago, too, but that's lawyers for you. Again, I apologize. Princess Celestia always attached a copy of the form to the budget resolutions herself—always quite insistent not too many ponies knew about it, I'm sure—so I hadn't thought of it at all." Inkwell tilted her head up in thought. "I'm surprised she didn't mention it to you."
Twilight gently bounced her head on and off the desk while massaging her temples with her wingtips.
"I'm not."
"Yes, Princess Twilight?" she answered, poking her head just through the doorway. "Do we need the paper bag again?"
Twilight's ears flattened. "No, I'm fine. I just want you to read this number out loud to me to make sure I'm not delirious or trapped in a horrible nightmare."
Inkwell trotted over to Twilight's desk. "The annual budget?" she asked, eyeing the paper stack on the desk.
"Last page, big red number. Lots of zeroes on the bad side of the decimal. Unless you don't see it, in which case I'm definitely hallucinating and I'll have to be medically sanctioned and tested for fitness to hold office and then Celestia and Luna will have to come back out of retirement only a year and—"
Raven levitated a paper bag over Twilight's muzzle. "Breathe, Princess. Let me see the report..." She let Twilight take over the breathing and skimmed through the papers until she got to the final page, whereupon she let out a slightly surprised hum.
"Well?" Twilight asked, having recovered her composure with a little help from her brown paper friend.
"I am pleased to inform Your Highness that she is not mentally unwell, and is indeed reading the final debt tally on this report as appropriately catastrophic." Raven straightened up the papers and laid them back on Twilight's desk.
"Great! Great. Next question I guess is where did this extra hundred million bit debt come from?!. We went through decades of tax records and policy history to lay the ground work for this year's budget and there wasn't anything to indicate we were in this much trouble!"
"Actually, this is my fault," Raven said. "Please continue breathing normally for a moment longer, Your Highness."
Twilight practiced her breathing exercises while Raven started digging through one of Celestia's old file cabinets, shoving papers aside and pulling out entire folders to reach some prize hidden underneath all the otherwise unremarkable paperwork.
"Here we are," Raven said, holding aloft a stack of whithered yellow forms. "Form PC: 1-G07-7h15, Federal Amicus Memorandum, Emergency Debt. We'll have to make new copies, eventually. This original batch is several centuries old."
Twilight snatched a sheet from the stack. "I've been studying Equestrian finance and tax laws for the last three months nonstop and I have never heard of this form." Her eyes swam across the page, only marginally slowed by the olden style of writing and the faded ink. "I, Princess Celestia, ruler of blah blah blah, titles and accolades, something about a plunger, for the livelihood and prosperity of Equestria, take upon my person a segment of the National Debt valuing Ten Thousand Bits, to be repaid in full to the Treasury upon such a time as it is fiscally stable to do so."
"A little interest adds up over the course of six hundred years or so, doesn't it? The current legal-speak is no less murky than it was six hundred years ago, too, but that's lawyers for you. Again, I apologize. Princess Celestia always attached a copy of the form to the budget resolutions herself—always quite insistent not too many ponies knew about it, I'm sure—so I hadn't thought of it at all." Inkwell tilted her head up in thought. "I'm surprised she didn't mention it to you."
Twilight gently bounced her head on and off the desk while massaging her temples with her wingtips.
"I'm not."
I have a ton of respect for this story. It sets up all its pins then knocks them down in a very short word count. The story is tight, the writing is lean, and all in all it was a very nice read! My one gripe would be it seems out of character for Celestia to game her own system like that. Unless I'm reading this wrong, she kinda comes across as a moneygrubber instead of the typical benevolent princess one might expect. And the way Twilight reacts almost makes it seem like some kind of prank six hundred years in the making. To Twilight's credit, she does seem appropriately flabbergasted, so it's really only Celestia's character that I have trouble believing here.
All the same, this is a very enjoyable read. Thank you for submitting.
All the same, this is a very enjoyable read. Thank you for submitting.
Equestria has debt. Princess Celestia: 1 G07 7h15, FAM. Well done, I’m a sucker for stealth puns.
I have some problems, however:
Raven is referred to as “Raven,” then “Inkwell,” then “Raven” for a while, and then “Inkwell” again. Not only is this inconsistency jarring, you also don’t use her full name a single time. If a reader doesn’t already know who Raven Inkwell is, they would be very confused.
The plunger bit feels very forced to me. The story is comical but not absurd, so that line really sticks out in a bad way.
The ending is rather weak as far as punchlines go. There’s no indication for why Twilight isn’t surprised. She might think Celestia is incompetent, or playing a prank, or just has a tendency to put other things off, too.
There are some awkward lines that could use pruning:
Removing this word makes it flow better. Someone poking their head through a doorway already implies they aren’t fully entering yet.
Maybe it’s just me, but it’s weird to see a direct address followed by an indirect one. I think you could do either Her Highness and she, or Your Highness and you, and it would be better. Again, though, it might just be me.
I get that Raven is professional, but this line feels like something even a robot wouldn’t say.
This last one is mostly preference, but it would be better in my opinion to rewrite the second sentence.
It’s a fine bit of horsewords overall, but those little things add up.
I have some problems, however:
Raven is referred to as “Raven,” then “Inkwell,” then “Raven” for a while, and then “Inkwell” again. Not only is this inconsistency jarring, you also don’t use her full name a single time. If a reader doesn’t already know who Raven Inkwell is, they would be very confused.
The plunger bit feels very forced to me. The story is comical but not absurd, so that line really sticks out in a bad way.
The ending is rather weak as far as punchlines go. There’s no indication for why Twilight isn’t surprised. She might think Celestia is incompetent, or playing a prank, or just has a tendency to put other things off, too.
There are some awkward lines that could use pruning:
Yes, Princess Twilight?" she answered, poking her head just through the doorway.
Removing this word makes it flow better. Someone poking their head through a doorway already implies they aren’t fully entering yet.
I am pleased to inform Your Highness that she is not mentally unwell
Maybe it’s just me, but it’s weird to see a direct address followed by an indirect one. I think you could do either Her Highness and she, or Your Highness and you, and it would be better. Again, though, it might just be me.
Please continue breathing normally for a moment longer, Your Highness.
I get that Raven is professional, but this line feels like something even a robot wouldn’t say.
A little interest adds up over the course of six hundred years or so, doesn't it? The current legal-speak is no less murky than it was six hundred years ago, too, but that's lawyers for you.
This last one is mostly preference, but it would be better in my opinion to rewrite the second sentence.
It’s a fine bit of horsewords overall, but those little things add up.
Okay sure, Writeoff, I'll write my review a second time. No problem. Feel free to erase my work any time you want.
Ahem.
So, I liked this story the whole way through. It sets up the conflict nice and succinctly, the character work is nice, and then it ends. Oh.
It felt short a resolution, is my point. Twilight's "I'm not." feels like it should preceded a scene break, not end the story altogether. Like my boi Band up there, it raises questions about why Twilight isn't surprised. And those questions have answers! They're just not here. Celestia likes pranks and all, but woof. She doesn't seem to type to force Equestria into default.
And maybe you ran out of time? Because we are only just above the word limit. Either way, thanks for writing and participating, and good luck in the shakedown!
Ahem.
So, I liked this story the whole way through. It sets up the conflict nice and succinctly, the character work is nice, and then it ends. Oh.
It felt short a resolution, is my point. Twilight's "I'm not." feels like it should preceded a scene break, not end the story altogether. Like my boi Band up there, it raises questions about why Twilight isn't surprised. And those questions have answers! They're just not here. Celestia likes pranks and all, but woof. She doesn't seem to type to force Equestria into default.
And maybe you ran out of time? Because we are only just above the word limit. Either way, thanks for writing and participating, and good luck in the shakedown!
I am an absolute sucker for sneaky puns also (see my comment on Incongruent Kitchen, re: PInkie Pie) so shout out to the form name and double thanks to 2Mer for pointing it out. I tend to glaze over l33t speak unless it's really all over the place and integral to the reading.
Otherwise, interesting concept with new solo-Twilight dealing with mundane matters that suddenly aren't so mundane, but as my fellows said (paraphrasing): the writing itself is a bit jittery in places, and the conclusion is just kind of "oop there's the gag" and we're done. Which would be excusable when running up against the word limit, but there's still plenty of room to grow so it's pretty jarring.
I imagine this like a tiny Bonsai tree that was trimmed just awkwardly enough to be noticeable from the corner of one's eye. Still pretty, but also disconcerting.
Otherwise, interesting concept with new solo-Twilight dealing with mundane matters that suddenly aren't so mundane, but as my fellows said (paraphrasing): the writing itself is a bit jittery in places, and the conclusion is just kind of "oop there's the gag" and we're done. Which would be excusable when running up against the word limit, but there's still plenty of room to grow so it's pretty jarring.
I imagine this like a tiny Bonsai tree that was trimmed just awkwardly enough to be noticeable from the corner of one's eye. Still pretty, but also disconcerting.