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Royal Assent
“—and under no circumstances could Yokeshire possibly provide a larger tithe of lumber to the Navy than it already does! Those tree-hugging bastards over in Whitetail, on the other hand—”
A bell rang twice and the clamor and fisticuffs which normally accompanied sessions of the Royal Senate died down. At the raised end of the wood paneled chamber, a rather important-looking blue unicorn in crested robes cleared her throat, rapped the gavel several times, and spoke.
“The chamber will now consider the motion placed before it by Lord Berryworth. The Roll shall be taken.”
“Rampant Cross?”
“Aye.”
“Lord Berryworth?”
“Aye!”
“Stellar Gaze?”
“Nay.”
“Harvest Wine?”
“The delegate from Yokeshire abstains. Courteously.”
On this went, with the Lord-Secretary studiously noting every vote. After indicating his satisfaction to the crested-robed unicorn, the Lady-President rapped her gavel and addressed the chamber again.
“The roll call is now closed. The motion carries two hundred-forty three to sixty-seven, five abstaining. The motion will now be referred to the Crown for Assent.”
“The next issue before this august body is the matter the price of eggs and feathers in the County of Baltimare. Madam Keystone proposed a motion to raise taxes on poultry production by twenty bits, partly on account of the smell of her neighbor’s—”
The noise and rambunctiousness resumed its normal pace.
Princess Celestia closed the heavy double doors that stood guard over her private chambers. Another day of petitioners and courtiers had left her exhausted in mind, if not body. Some days I actually miss government by combat, she thought as she removed her finery and settled in front of her writing desk. She levitated the first stack of no doubt captivating literature into reading distance.
“The Report of the Grain Board? How tantalizing.”
Regardless of lack-of-enthusiasm, she set to work.
At last, she was left with only a thin stack of parchment, the battered look immediately identifying them as Acts in Waiting, Courtesy of the Royal Senate. She broke the blue seal and absentmindedly read the first one.
She had her own gold seal half an inch from the parchment before she was taken by surprise.
Setting it aside, she took the paper in her hooves and read the High Script carefully.
I. THE PRINCESSES OF EQUESTRIA SHALL IN PERPETUITY HAVE THE STYLE “QUEEN OF EQUESTRIA, DUCHESS OF CANTERLOT, PROTECTOR OF THE NORTHERN REACHES, AND DEFENDER OF FRIENDSHIP.”
II. THE PRINCIPALITY OF EQUESTRIA SHALL IN PERPETUITY HAVE THE STYLE “SOLAR KINGDOM OF EQUESTRIA.”
AMENDED-
III. THIS ACT SHALL NOT BE CONSTRUED AS TO PLACE HONOR OR STATUS ON THE ABSENT PRINCESS.
IV. ALL REFERENCES TO THE ABSENT PRINCESS WITHIN THE CROWN AND GOVERNMENT SHALL BE REMOVED AT HER MAJESTY’S LEISURE.
The Lady-President’s and Lord-Secretary’s seal confirmed the bitter truth.
Celestia sank into her cushion as she realized the magnitude of what she’d nearly signed. This is by far the boldest one of these yet, she thought. It was bad enough that the Night Banners and Lunar statuary had to be hauled down for fear of vandalism, or the fifty years of pleading I had to endure at the thrice-damned Court of Day.
For one fraction of a second, she considered ending it all by just fixing her seal to the paper. Never again would she hear star stuck commoners or simpering Dukes suggest she increase her status to that which they all so fervently believed she deserved.
That they so wrongly believed she deserved.
She sat the parchment down and looked at a small and very faded portrait sitting on a desk shelf. The alicorn in the portrait stared back at her, smiling her mysterious smile. For more than half an hour she didn’t move.
Suddenly she opened one of her desks drawers and brought out a different seal, this one black.
“ASSENT WITHHELD”
With a brief flash she duplicated the parchment and put the copy in the bottom of her drawer, where more than a dozen crumbling proposals lay. Princess Celestia rose and turned toward her bedchamber.
“At least it’s only eight centuries years more of this nonsense.” she said to nopony in particular.
A bell rang twice and the clamor and fisticuffs which normally accompanied sessions of the Royal Senate died down. At the raised end of the wood paneled chamber, a rather important-looking blue unicorn in crested robes cleared her throat, rapped the gavel several times, and spoke.
“The chamber will now consider the motion placed before it by Lord Berryworth. The Roll shall be taken.”
“Rampant Cross?”
“Aye.”
“Lord Berryworth?”
“Aye!”
“Stellar Gaze?”
“Nay.”
“Harvest Wine?”
“The delegate from Yokeshire abstains. Courteously.”
On this went, with the Lord-Secretary studiously noting every vote. After indicating his satisfaction to the crested-robed unicorn, the Lady-President rapped her gavel and addressed the chamber again.
“The roll call is now closed. The motion carries two hundred-forty three to sixty-seven, five abstaining. The motion will now be referred to the Crown for Assent.”
“The next issue before this august body is the matter the price of eggs and feathers in the County of Baltimare. Madam Keystone proposed a motion to raise taxes on poultry production by twenty bits, partly on account of the smell of her neighbor’s—”
The noise and rambunctiousness resumed its normal pace.
Princess Celestia closed the heavy double doors that stood guard over her private chambers. Another day of petitioners and courtiers had left her exhausted in mind, if not body. Some days I actually miss government by combat, she thought as she removed her finery and settled in front of her writing desk. She levitated the first stack of no doubt captivating literature into reading distance.
“The Report of the Grain Board? How tantalizing.”
Regardless of lack-of-enthusiasm, she set to work.
At last, she was left with only a thin stack of parchment, the battered look immediately identifying them as Acts in Waiting, Courtesy of the Royal Senate. She broke the blue seal and absentmindedly read the first one.
She had her own gold seal half an inch from the parchment before she was taken by surprise.
Setting it aside, she took the paper in her hooves and read the High Script carefully.
AN ACT OF THE ROYAL SENATE OF THE PRINCIPALITY OF EQUESTRIA
TO PROVIDE FOR THE PRINCESSES AND REALM OF EQUESTRIA THE PROPER DIGNITY, RESPECT AND GLORY APPROPRIATE THERETO
I. THE PRINCESSES OF EQUESTRIA SHALL IN PERPETUITY HAVE THE STYLE “QUEEN OF EQUESTRIA, DUCHESS OF CANTERLOT, PROTECTOR OF THE NORTHERN REACHES, AND DEFENDER OF FRIENDSHIP.”
II. THE PRINCIPALITY OF EQUESTRIA SHALL IN PERPETUITY HAVE THE STYLE “SOLAR KINGDOM OF EQUESTRIA.”
AMENDED-
III. THIS ACT SHALL NOT BE CONSTRUED AS TO PLACE HONOR OR STATUS ON THE ABSENT PRINCESS.
IV. ALL REFERENCES TO THE ABSENT PRINCESS WITHIN THE CROWN AND GOVERNMENT SHALL BE REMOVED AT HER MAJESTY’S LEISURE.
DONE IN THE NAME OF LADIES, LORDS, AND PONIES OF THE REALM ON THE TWENTY-THIRD OF JULY IN THE YEAR OF THE ROYAL PRINCESSES THREE HUNDRED AND FIFTY ONE
The Lady-President’s and Lord-Secretary’s seal confirmed the bitter truth.
Celestia sank into her cushion as she realized the magnitude of what she’d nearly signed. This is by far the boldest one of these yet, she thought. It was bad enough that the Night Banners and Lunar statuary had to be hauled down for fear of vandalism, or the fifty years of pleading I had to endure at the thrice-damned Court of Day.
For one fraction of a second, she considered ending it all by just fixing her seal to the paper. Never again would she hear star stuck commoners or simpering Dukes suggest she increase her status to that which they all so fervently believed she deserved.
That they so wrongly believed she deserved.
She sat the parchment down and looked at a small and very faded portrait sitting on a desk shelf. The alicorn in the portrait stared back at her, smiling her mysterious smile. For more than half an hour she didn’t move.
Suddenly she opened one of her desks drawers and brought out a different seal, this one black.
“ASSENT WITHHELD”
With a brief flash she duplicated the parchment and put the copy in the bottom of her drawer, where more than a dozen crumbling proposals lay. Princess Celestia rose and turned toward her bedchamber.
“At least it’s only eight centuries years more of this nonsense.” she said to nopony in particular.
I thought this a rather tedious way to go about a missing-Luna story, but it gets there eventually. Celestia's prompted reflection is really the heart of things here. I'm quite certain you could cut the entire scene above the scene break and lose almost nothing critical.
A few parts are mildly overbearing, overly simplified, or unnecessary, e.g. "confirmed the bitter truth", "Regardless of lack-of-enthusiasm", "said to nopony in particular". At least one soft scene break could also have helped the flow in the latter section.
Not bad, though—currently sitting near the middle of my slate.
A few parts are mildly overbearing, overly simplified, or unnecessary, e.g. "confirmed the bitter truth", "Regardless of lack-of-enthusiasm", "said to nopony in particular". At least one soft scene break could also have helped the flow in the latter section.
Not bad, though—currently sitting near the middle of my slate.
I seem to have a soft spot for unprofessional governing councils, since I found this one quite amusing. However, I do have to agree with Kwirky about how it doesn’t really add much to the story as a whole, struggling as it does to match the solemnity of the other half and doing little more than offering an explanation for something that didn’t need one.
As for the portrait, I find myself wondering whether it’s Luna or their mother. Either seems like it could work.
There’s definite potential here. Indeed, seeing these continual attempts over the centuries could make for quite the story. But this isn’t quite there yet.
As for the portrait, I find myself wondering whether it’s Luna or their mother. Either seems like it could work.
There’s definite potential here. Indeed, seeing these continual attempts over the centuries could make for quite the story. But this isn’t quite there yet.
Not much I can say about this one that hasn't already been said, unfortunately. It's intriguing, to be sure, and it's certainly a concept worth exploring, but I'd rather it be explored in a longer piece—or at the very least have more words dedicated to Celestia's part in it. Cutting the first bit above the scene break wouldn't have mattered much at all, and likely would've helped the story as it had a tonal disconnect from the rest of the story and its removal would allow more emphasis to be placed on the real meat of the story.
All that said, I still enjoyed this as a thoughtful look into Celestia's mind and character. Not sure how to interpret the portrait on the shelf (I presumed it to be Celestia and Luna's mother, but I can't be sure without more information), but that didn't necessarily stymie my enjoyment of the story either. Certainly not the worst story, but it could use some work and a bigger space to work with.
All that said, I still enjoyed this as a thoughtful look into Celestia's mind and character. Not sure how to interpret the portrait on the shelf (I presumed it to be Celestia and Luna's mother, but I can't be sure without more information), but that didn't necessarily stymie my enjoyment of the story either. Certainly not the worst story, but it could use some work and a bigger space to work with.
I enjoy the premise, here, but I'm not getting as much out of the execution. The entire first part has a different tone from the section under the break - and while it is interesting, it's also just not necessary. I would recommend either tying it into the second part more directly to make it match tone or just removing it all together (not that I want you to do that, because you portray the Royal Senate quite well).
Either way, I did enjoy it.
Either way, I did enjoy it.
Author, you wound me. This flirts with several different genres, with strong toeholds in comedy, feels, etc. It's also very well-written and it feels believable as a purely historical piece. However, it doesn't quite settle into one or more genres consistently enough for me to put it in my upper tiers, however much I want to reward its good aspects. I think that could be fixed with some tweaking, and I hope this receives some.
Tier: Almost There
Tier: Almost There
Enjoyed — Royal Assent — A- — (but it’s a GOOD A-) First impression: a light and fluffy comedy about the nobility (+) Well, that went dark quickly. The timeframe and situation of the story became crystal clear fairly soon after the phrase ‘ABSENT PRINCESS’ showed up (-) which is both a plus and a minus, as the reader is expecting one thing and the carpet gets yanked up and another one laid down between steps. To be honest, everything before the first break could be nuked or at least revised to fit the seriousness of the plot. The sharp left turn is a fair trick to pull on a longer story, but to drop it on a minific blows away a lot of your impact. Looking forward to see if this gets expanded.
There's a lot of setup here for a fairly small piece of musing at the ending. This story kinda works, but I can't help but feel that the target you picked was really very small? That can be a strength, in the minific round, but here... I dunno. This feels extremely end-heavy to me. The writing is good, but a lot of it seems to have very little bearing on the emotional parts of the story. You could cut the court bit, summarize the decree in two sentences, and have very nearly the same narrative. It's good but unambitious?
Oh, and I didn't realize we were in the past until very nearly the end. Orienting your readers sooner would help with that. Have them date something in the court or somesuch.
Oh, and I didn't realize we were in the past until very nearly the end. Orienting your readers sooner would help with that. Have them date something in the court or somesuch.
“The delegate from Yokeshire abstains. Courteously.”
*squee*
Alas, this most treasured reference has little actual bearing on the rest of the the story, Writer. While it paints a crystal clear image of the buffoonery of the Senate Hall, seeing this mysterious motion pass doesn't actually add anything, save perhaps to justify Princess Celestia's thinly veiled contempt.
Still, it's interesting how the four titles bequeathed upon Celestia in Article I are references to princesses that won't even exist for another eight hundred years or so, and I like that "Duchess of Canterlot" is included among them. It does throw a bit of a wrench in the works with regards to establishing where in the timeline the story takes place, though - it's not until Article III that we realize this is taking place in the past.