New Money

by Zelderon


Follow in Your Hoofsteps

“Hurry up Spoiled. We’re going to be late for the party,” a voice equal parts exasperated and teasing called up the stairs.

“I’ll be right down in a moment, dear,” I called down the stairs as I put on the finishing touches on my makeup. I always wished I had the dexterity that magic gave unicorn mares. I knew no amount of wishing would change anything and I needed to settle with carefully balancing a tube of lipstick in one hoof while the other held a mirror to my face.

Satisfied with my appearance, I trotted down the stairs of our house and into the foyer my husband was waiting in. His feigned impatience broke upon seeing me and he beamed that same goofy smile from all those years ago when we first met.

“You look radiant dear.”

“I wish I could say the same of you,” I replied, giving him a playful tap on the nose. I sat down gently and carefully reached up with both hooves to fix Filthy’s tie. He could never really get it quite right and tonight appearances were far too important to allow for anything less than perfection.

We walked out the door and into our new carriage. My husband nodded to driver, a middle aged stallion with a blue coat and white mane that was beginning to thin near the top of his head. We made our way over to Fancy Pants’s new summer home on the outskirts of Ponyville. He was the son of prominent unicorn bankers whose ancestry dated back to the first minister of finance of Equestria.

As we pulled up to the tasteful villa, one of Fancy’s manservants trotted up to open the door to our carriage. I was taken aback by the sheer size of the sprawling mansion and verdant gardens. As Blue Hoof pulled our carriage away, my husband and I walked up the winding path leading to the entrance to the entrance to the new home that was the talk of high society.

A doorcolt directed us through the Rocoltco foyer into the backyard. Swirling ivies traced their way up the side of the mansion as if some giant baker had decorated the house with dark green frosting. Many of the other guests were mingling in the garden, sipping expensive drinks and making banal small talk.

I saw the newly elected Mayor Mare in conversation with Fancy Pants, surrounded as usual by a circle of brown-muzzlers and other ponies trying to vy for his favor. We sauntered over to greet our host and caught the tail end of what was being said.

“Well Mayor Mare I must congratulate you on your new office. I dare say, Ponyville is quite a charming little village. I’m so pleased you decided to approve the building permit for my humble estate.”

I silently scoffed at the comment. I heard from Silver Ring that an unmarked generous campaign donation had been made to the mayor the same day as the envelope containing Fancy Pants’s request arrived at her office.

“Oh Mr. Pants, it was nothing. Thank you for donating money to renovate the old schoolhouse. The old one could barely fit all the foals. Ponyville is expanding so fast, I can hardly believe my eyes,” replied Mayor Mare, with a hint of pride.

“Yes, well mud ponies do always seem to breed like parasprites,” murmured a snide voice near the back of the crowd. A muted acknowledgment rippled through the crowd. Fancy Pants didn’t seem to hear.

“Well Mayor, if you excuse me I must attend to my other guests,” Fancy Pants turned in our direction. “Please enjoy the refreshments and feel free to browse through my library on the first floor. I heard you were an avid Hemingneigh fan, and I just recently purchased a first edition The Old Mare and the Sea.”

“Wow, I’m surprised they can even read,” the same voice seemed to whisper directly into my ear, but when I turned my head to look it seemed as if every pony else was still listening to the conversation in front of them with rapt attention.

“Thank you again for the invite. This is a truly splendid garden party.” Mayor Mare nodded her head as she made an exit, knowing her time with him was up.

“Ah Mrs. Rich, I must thank you once more for helping me purchase this plot of land. I hope your real estate business is doing well.”

“Oh it’s positively booming,” this wasn’t a lie. After news broke of Fancy Pants’s new estate, it seemed as if all the sycophants in Canterlot wanted their own quaint getaway in the countryside.

“I must introduce you to my new marefriend, Fleur de Lis. Fleur this is Spoiled Rich,” Fancy said as a tall, svelte unicorn mare, barely out of fillyhood, slid up to his side, resting a both hooves on his back.

“It is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance Fleur,” I greeted as I held out my hoof to her.

“Hmmm, charmed I’m sure,” she hesitated for a beat to inspect the my offered hoof before dismounting Fancy Pants and shaking it as briefly as propriety would allow. As soon as she was done, she not so subtly levitated a light pink silk handkerchief and wiped her hoof while Fancy Pants was distracted greeting my husband.

“Oh Fleur darling, you must introduce Mrs. Rich to your friends while I show Mr. Rich some of the new croquet moves I’ve picked up since our days in the Canterlot School of Business.” Fancy Pants walked away with my husband towards an empty patch of grass where servants were setting up equipment.

Fleur sighed. “Well, I suppose if I must. Come along,” she ordered curtly.

Several unicorn stallions and mares were situated on cushions placed strategically near the clearing where Fancy Pants’s staff had set up a series of wickets. They barely acknowledged my presence as I awkwardly stood, looking for a seat.

“Why don’t you sit down my dear,” a young pale yellow mare said, “I heard earth ponies love dirt.”

“Mind, your tongue Upper Crust,” an older looking mare with a pale purple mane swatted the younger mare with a jewel encrusted fan, clasped in her telekinetic glow. She beckoned to one of the servants and asked him to fetch another cushion. “However if you truly do wish to sit directly in the grass deary, be my guest.”

“I’d much rather choose the cushion, please. Thank you,” I said politely restraining myself and the my growing need to buck a mare.

“So Fleur, I heard that your Fancy Pants donated a handsome amount of school supplies and playground. I must say I think it’s lovely that he is supporting earth pony education. I always say it’s the duty of unicorns like us to give to those less fortunate than us.”

“Oh Jewel Crust, have you been listening to Bleeding Heart’s rallies? Really, I find it a complete waste of Fancy’s money. Mind you he has plenty to spare, but I don’t see in point in funding earth pony education. Teach them how to count how many plants they have and how to read the menu at Hayburger and they’re set.”

I inexorably started to blend into the scenery and tried to just focus on my husband’s game with Fancy Pants. I tried to become one with carefully manicured rose and hydrangea bushes surrounding us. I knew I had no role in the coming conversation.

“Oh now Fleur that’s woefully ignorant. It is our duty as unicorns to help lift up our earth pony brothers and sisters. Personally I think more unicorns should go into developing earth pony towns to help build their infrastructure and educate them. They always come back with wonderful stories about how inspired they were by the earth pony’s frugal grit and ability to live humbly and without the excesses of unicorns. Why just last summer I sent my little Upper Crust off to Dodge Junction to help teach at their new elementary school.”

“Yes, but what’s the point? They’ll just go on to get their cutie marks in farming or hard labor and what have you. I think it’s more practical to just forgo formal schooling and set up trade schools to teach them the skills they’ll actually need in their jobs. I don’t think it’s fair to impose our unicornian education models on them. We have to just accept that they’re different from us and better suited for manual labor. We all learned in biology class that earth ponies are naturally stronger and more in tune with the earth. Why try to force them to go against their pony nature?” added a stallion with a brown coat and blonde mane. “If anything we should support programs that uphold their traditional, simple lifestyles. I actually visited the quaintest earth pony farm before coming here and I have to tell you that even though it seems like they have nothing, they’re happy. They’re just not the same as us.”

“I must concur with Golden Gavel. If earth ponies are happy to dig in the dirt all day, why try to change the status quo? Why, just look at that study Rudyard Coltling released. He proved that earth pony bankers and business owners are far less happy and have higher rates of anxiety and depression than earth ponies living on rural farms. It’s just not fair, forcing them into occupations meant for unicorns,” interjected a young bespectacled stallion with a grey coat and a dark grey mane.

“And it’s not fair for the unicorn fillies and colts who have to sit in the same classes as earth ponies. I hear in Ponyville, they just let them all mix together. There are so many studies out there that prove earth ponies don’t develop as quickly unicorns. Why just look at that report they published in Trots News. They found definitive proof that unicorns get their cutie marks faster than the other races. Why force them to sit in a classroom full of blankflanks?” Fleur spat out the last word as if it were a rotten piece of hay.

“You’re an earth pony. What do you think?” Jewel Crust asked turning towards me.

“Oh Spoiled Rich hardly counts as an earth pony. I personally never even really think of her as one. She and her husband may as well be unicorn.” Fancy Pants proclaimed as he walked into the conversation, apparently taking a break from his game.

All the other unicorns dutifully nodded in agreement and made small comments about how they didn’t see her as a regular earth pony.

A servant held out a platter of drinks with one hoof, and I gently took one glass in my front hooves. I drank a sip and moved my head with the rhythm of civilization.