Duchess

Polaris smiled at the good-natured banter between brother and sister, their gentle teasing. “Oh, nonsense! I'm sure that a fine young mare such as your sister is positively beating stallions away from her doors day and night! Or perhaps you're the one doing the beating, as her brother?” His gaze turned speculative as he saw Shanna blush furiously, apparently trying to hide her face under one wing. “Better things to do with my time?” Polaris laughed lightly. “Oh, m'dear Shanna Skybright, almost everything I do revolves around discussing things with ponies! And other species too, of course. In any case, it's not a question of time; I have positively oodles of time right now.” he gestured grandly, expansively, with his front hooves, emphasizing his words “I just finished a full tour as an ambassador, you see – Germaney and Itaily this time. Now, the corps takes the view – very reasonably, in my opinion - that a pony can't very well stand up for Equestria if they're always away from the place they're supposed to represent! I'm on furlough right now, as the military calls it, for a year or so - getting back to m'roots. Meeting new ponies, making sure old acquaintances haven't forgotten me, relaxing and putting my hooves up for a bit, that sort of thing. A few light duties here in dear old Castle Canterlot is about all they'll be asking of me for a while.” He shrugged, a refined shifting of his forelegs under the plummy purple morning-coat he wore. “Of course, the time will go – it always does – under a hail of appointments for this, invitations to that and all the other paraphernalia of having a social life. So, better things to do with my time? Probably not.” He smiled, brightly, lightning-fast. “More pressing? Alas, yes.” Another philosophical shrug, but it didn't dim the mischievous look in his eye. “However. It'd be a very poor outlook on me and my household if I couldn't manage enough time for a few personal indulgences – even if your brother is being a little premature with his matchmaking. Not to mention blunt.” He winked, taking any bite out of his words. “If your travels ever take you over near Manehattan, by the way, do feel free to call in at Fetlock Hall. Somepony might as well get some use out of the observatory in the grounds – the dear old place is far enough from Manehattan that it actually has a starfield, and heavens know the Hall has enough rooms to put you up in. Each of you could have a whole wing or two to yourselves, I expect.” Just at that point, Polaris' ears pricked up; a rather tubby dark unicorn, who had, up until recently, been contentedly hoovering up the snacks and drinks laid out on the sideboards, suddenly began to mutter about danger. Danger was decidedly not something he wanted to hear about whilst he was quietly chatting and enjoying Castle Canterlot's justly famous hospitality. Distracted from his conversation with Hoss, Shanna and Jubilee, Polaris looked around across the ballroom, which was now steadily filling up, with more careful eyes. Nothing out of the ordinary, as far as he could see – the musicians still playing a jaunty bolero that had him wanting to tap his hooves in time to the music, the ponies still milling and chattering, the imposing pink presence of the Princess speaking quietly to Sweet Surprise – or rather, now moving to allay concerns with practised ease – a slice of tart floating enticingly beside her. Nothing had changed from how it had been two minutes before, so what had set the unicorn off? Shaking his head with a slight whicker of bewilderment, he turned back to the others. “My apologies. I got...distracted. The word 'danger' has a way of catching one's attention. I do hate to be rude, but if you'll excuse me, I'd like to keep an eye on this - ponies don't usually act up for no reason, I'm sure you'll agree.” He swept a bow to all three of them, and then gracefully trotted over to be near – but not too near – the Princess and the dark mare, whose name he couldn't bring to mind at all. Fortunately, this also took him close to the doors – and a nicely dressed zebra; he couldn't be the danger, surely? - which were a handy escape route and means to alert the guards, in the highly unlikely event that that would be necessary. Highly unlikely, yes – this was Castle Canterlot, for Celestia's sake – but not impossible, as the recent events surrounding Princess Cadance's marriage had shown all too clearly.

As for me, when not engrossed in ponies: Reading - mostly fantasy and science-fiction, although my fillyfriend is almost-literally frogmarching me through my classics section. Writing - I simply love being able to make up new worlds and characters to bend to my will! Riding - I live in the country. It's expected. And it's wonderful . Hunting Walking - again, countryside. Opera - a box at the Royal Opera House is, in my opinion, the best investment ever.

That...is an amazing picture, Rosewind... -drools- Anyway, welcome to Canterlot, my dear sir! Or madam, of course.

Hallo there! Welcome to the forums; I'm sure you'll have a splendid time .

“Starbright is very welcome – and I'll be ever so glad to help spread the news! Everypony at Court – and probably some way beyond - will know in short order, you may depend on it!” Polaris was beaming, and in his head, he was already organizing a rigorous schedule of lunches, afternoon teas and 'chance' meetings, both in order to catch up with friends and to disseminate the good news about Starbright. He waved a careless hoof. “As for the telescope, it's a good cause, furthering the scientific advancement of Equestria, and what else have I to spend my bits on? Heavens know they seem to pile up faster than I can spend them anyway.” 'And I did have a hand in damaging the old one, even if that was six or seven years ago now,' he carefully didn't add. Hopefully this time, no inebriated studentponies would take it into their heads to prank the Astronomer Royal, and end up doing a mischief to the shiny new telescope into the bargain. Polaris nodded approvingly at Hoss as the stallion began to speak. That was what he liked to see – the stallion had noted his error, politely corrected it at the first opportunity and then carried on as normal. No fuss, no outpouring of apologies, no awkwardness. “Seize the day, for the world is fleeting,” Polaris quoted softly at him, smiling happily at the sight of stallion with mare tucked under one wing. “I'm sure that any day you pick would be right by virtue of the proposal – but, as I've not had much luck in what the poet ponies call the 'lists of love' yet, I'm not at all sure I'm one to be passing judgement! Nonetheless, good luck in finding the perfect day for it – I'm sure it'll be along soon enough.” He switched his storm-purple gaze to Jubilee. “No offence taken, miss. I said I didn't mind, didn't I? Just didn't want you to get into a tangle with some of the other nobleponies, that's all. Tell me, are you an astronomer like your fine coltfriend and his sister?”

Polaris smiled gently at the shy Jubilee. “The honour is mine, miss.” He lowered his voice and leaned in slightly, his velvety voice not carrying far. “Word to the wise, if you're going to attend any sort of Court shindig on a regular basis – a duke is 'your grace' when you first meet them. Not that I mind, particularly-” he added, with a reassuring smile, taking care not to change his voice from its usual even, rich tones, even though what he'd said was a bit of a lie “-unless the snub is intentional, anyway, but at least two of my equals...well, have you ever met Prince Blueblood, or at least heard about him? Some of Equestria's dukes are just as prickly when it comes to matters of rank and privilege. They live for this sort of thing, you know – there's nothing they like better than noticing some fault, imagined or otherwise, that they can then kick up such a fuss as you wouldn't believe.” He sighed, heavily. “Of course, that particular blight runs across all tiers of the nobility, but with a duke you can't get away with a 'my lord' or a 'sir' – at least at first.” He smiled, wickedly sardonic, joking. “We just can't bear to be like the others, you see.” He looked away, squinting over the heads of the small crowd of ponies present, towards the dais where the CRPR Oversight Board slumbered its illustrious way through Princess Cadance's Open House event. “If you want to know what the worst of us are like – and it is best to be prepared, I always say - I suggest you go and meet that pony over there.” Discreetly, the Duke of Manehattan indicated the old solon pony that was Dusty Chronicle, esteemed Chair of the CRPR Oversight Board and currently wearing an expression that looked remarkably as if he'd just bitten into a lemon and with a gimlet gaze that could do sterling duty as a paint-stripper. “Preferably with backup on your side and after a few glasses of punch. Liquid courage, you know. Truth be told, I'm actually nerving myself up to go and talk to him. He and my father were friends, you see – or at least, they always bickered at each other – and so I've got to at least say 'hallo' to him. I always come away from a chat with Dusty Chronicle feeling like he's been giving me marks, though.” He shuddered, reflexively. “Ghastly feeling, I can tell you.” He coughed, slightly uncomfortably, aware that he might have worried Jubilee a little, and added: “Mind you, the bad apples are few and far between. Once you know who you like and who you don't, you can generally pretty well avoid the...difficult ponies, shall we say? Most of the nobility are just what they should be – kind, appreciative of their position, caring, excellent conversationalists....It's just a bit of a pity that not everypony follows the example of the Princesses.”

“’Tis good to hear that even the progeny of the Astronomer Royal managed to damage equipment on occasion,” Polaris laughed. “Even though Unyasi is the very devil to get to, there’s something quite spellbinding about the deserts and savannah there, I found. Small wonder the zebras are such a mystical people, with just the land rolling off into the distance and the great bowl of the sky overhead. Concentrates the mind on eternity, I think.” He shook his head fondly, remembering a past trip. “Very hospitable people, too. Indeed, my first posting abroad was to Unyasi, and the zebras gave me a full set of the jewellery befitting an adult in their culture as a welcoming present.” Polaris chuckled. “I could barely move in all of it, even though it did look very fine indeed!” As the news about Professor Starbright being in foal registered, he beamed. “Well, you simply must pass on my congratulations! The Professor and…Thunderstar, isn’t it? must be very happy! Once the joyful news gets around, they’ll have to set up some sort of queuing system to deal with all the well-wishers, of that you can be sure,” he added wryly; Starbright, the Astronomer Royal and now Professor of Astronomy at the Royal University, was a highly respected and admired figure, after all. Polaris paused, and considered Shanna, tilting his head to one side slightly. “That is, unless the news is supposed to be a secret?” He hoped not - it was always so delightful to be the bearer of good news, after all, and he was already plotting whom to tell first. ‘Perhaps Aquila? Or maybe Lord Moor - he’s always been a friend of the Observatory - and Starbright too, I shouldn‘t wonder. No, he probably already knows. How about Inky Page, the Court gazetteer? - no, no, the Professor will want to tell him herself, when she’s ready…Oh, who to tell, who to tell…’ He didn’t let himself dwell on it for too long, though - that would have been awfully rude to Shanna. “We can’t have your mother fretting over a telescope, of all things, when she’s expecting. Do have her order whatever she thinks would be best for the Observatory and send the bill to Hoofburgh House, all right? Oh, and whilst I remember - have the doctors mentioned when the foal might be due?” he asked, curious. Just then, the male mirror image of the pegasus he was talking to trotted up, with another pony in tow. “A fine morning to you both,” he replied as they addressed him, making sure to smile reassuringly at the white-and-blonde pegasus who stood close to Star - Jubilee, he’d said her name was. She seemed a little nervous. “The name’s Polaris - I don’t think our circles overlapped very much when I was at university here in Canterlot, sir Skybright, but I know your mother, at least, quite well. Your sister was just telling me the happy news about her! Hopefully another splendid addition to the family, eh?” He looked over at Jubilee, and winked. “Perhaps two, in the fullness of time?”

“Oh, you’re quite welcome,” smiled Polaris, quite happily. “I have to say, if this is what you can produce as an apprentice, I shall await with bated breath your work as a master. With your skill, I should expect you will have your own emporium sooner rather than later; I do hope your current employer appreciates you, miss. Talent shouldn’t be wasted, after all.” He took another genteel sip of the punch, humming gently in pleasure at the warming liquid. “Naturally, one needs a certain reputation to start, but event catering is an excellent way to get more exposure to patrons, and a superb way to display your mastery of the culinary arts. I really do admire the ponies who can make those perfect spun-sugar subtleties in the shape of the Princesses, or Fetlock Hall, and so forth, or chocolate models of griffons and suchlike - and the food is generally superb, too. I really will have to call in at your shop very soon - and hopefully when you‘re a famous chocolatier, you‘ll look kindly on me.” Polaris inclined his head to Sweet Surprise and turned gracefully as another mare began to address him. She was a pegasus, with a brilliant bay coat and a startling black mane, tail and socks, and looked rather familiar. He racked his brain trying to remember her name and where he might have seen her before, and then was saved from trying by the mare herself. ’Shanna Skybright, of course!’ he thought. 'Her mother practically ran the Royal Observatory when I was studying at the University. Must remember to ask what the two of them are doing now - Shanna's one of a pair, I seem to recall.' “And a very good morning to you, Miss Skybright! Thanks awfully for letting me get to that superb fudge - although I really shouldn’t have.” He looked down at himself somewhat ruefully, already imagining the celery stick diet - no, no, food plan, as his doctor would stress - that was surely in the offing when he gave into temptation and trotted over to Sweet Surprise’s place of employment. “To answer you, I do indeed know Professor Starbright, yes. I don’t manage to get over to the Observatory as often as I’d like now, so our acquaintance has lapsed a bit since I was last at university. It’s good to hear she’s keeping herself busy, though - although I do have to confess, when I was an undergraduate I was always terrified whenever we had a trip to her Observatory that I’d break something and suffer her wrath.” Polaris winced at the memory of Sirius Coltington and what was always referred to as the Cassegrain Caper (in hushed voices) - a decidedly infamous event that still filled him with mild dread if ever Starbright found out about his (supporting and mildly accidental) role in the damaging of a very expensive and newly-installed telescope. He shook himself out of his momentary stroll down Memory Lane and beamed at Shanna. “Still, I’d regard it a service if you’d pass on my warmest regards to your mother when you next see her. Tell me, does she still hold her position as Astronomer Royal? If they’re still using the old telescope, I think I might persuade myself to help get a new one - the night sky is always so beautiful, after all, especially now we have Princess Luna back.” He gave a short, self-deprecating laugh. “And with a name like Polaris, well…"

Polaris acknowledged the bow – awkward though it was – with a regal nod, and listened attentively to the confectioner's words – one should always pay attention to ponies bearing sweeties. “Mm, yes. That wonderful aroma rather made me forget myself - a pleasure indeed to meet you, Sweet Surprise.” He laughed softly, but kindly, at her question. “I've just got a rather sensitive nose, that's all. I've never made confectionery before, I must confess – I can just about stretch to assembling a sandwich, if somepony's got all the ingredients together, and that's about the extent of my culinary endeavours. I have a chef, you see – and a very fine one, at that. Never really seemed right to try my hand at it when she works so hard to turn out such wonderful food. That and she doesn't like me disrupting the running of her kitchen by popping down without prior notice.” Hungrily, Polaris contemplated the fudge pieces. “You know, I probably should be on a diet, but one piece surely can't hurt, now can it?” he confided, before eagerly floating one of the remaining pieces of fudge into his mouth and biting down on it, closing his eyes in pleasure as the subtle melange of flavours washed over his tongue. “Oh, I say! Just as -mmm- perfect as it smelled.” He sighed, slightly wistfully, as the morsel vanished down his gullet, leaving only a memory of the taste lingering on his tongue. “A pity that some masterpieces are so transitory. If the rest of your stock at this undoubtedly eye-catching store – which I will patronize as soon as possible, you can depend upon it - is anywhere near as good, then I shall have to restrain myself from buying the lot!” He frowned. “And then I'd have to deal with the lecturing of my doctor, but...I think it would be worth it.” Polaris' head tilted to one side as a thought occurred. “Tell me, have you ever thought of experimenting with chocolate and coffee together? It'd be just the thing for an elevenses snack, I think.”

((OOC: Hope you don't mind me weaving Polaris' dad and Dusty Chronicle together a bit, Solaria! I'll change it if you like.)) Polaris expertly hid a wince at 'Mister' – although whether his efforts would be enough to disguise it from an alicorn was another matter. Still, she was one of the royal house, and some leeway was their due. 'Pride cometh before a fall, Polaris,' he reminded himself forcefully. His voice remained polished and urbane, the dictionary definition of an educated Canterlot accent. “Thank you, ma'am, that is a relief to know. Now, I seem to be rather monopolising you, so I'll take my leave for the moment, if I may. It's been a pleasure, Princess Cadance.” So saying, Polaris essayed another elegant bow and shimmered away, allowing the two ponies who had been waiting behind him to meet the Princess face-to-face. He bent his head in thanks for their patience as he passed – a small courtesy often went a long way, after all. As he glided over the polished marble of the ballroom floor – beautifully veined and patterned; only the best for Castle Canterlot, after all – he idly turned the new information over and over in his head. What the Princess had said made a lot of sense – it was a truth, after all, that a princess's visit was more meaningful than any ambassador's, and the corps, always small, had been rather overstretched of late. It was probably for the good that the Princess had got involved on the PR side of royal duties – at the very least, it was an interesting development, especially since several very senior courtiers were apparently behind her venture. Not feeling quite up to fencing with Dusty Chronicle just yet – his father, Duke Silver Speech, had had a friendship with the cantankerous pony built on mutual bickering over the finer points of royal schedules and brandy – his hooves had taken him over to the refreshments table, where the royal kitchens had laid on a first-class spread of refreshments suitable for elevenses. And, unless his nose deceived him, a dash of Dutch courage in the form of fortifying punch. His horn glowed a clear, arctic blue as a glass arced up from its resting place, dipped into the punch bowl and then daintily tipped itself to let him sip. Happily, his eyes roamed over the treats on offer - naturally skipping over the salad and healthy dip section – and gambolling delightfully among the ranks of cupcakes, scones, teacakes, eclairs, sweet canapes and other such trifles, trying to decide which ones to consume first. A thought occurred, and he looked regretfully down at himself. Whilst his ensemble fitted like a glove, as it was supposed to, the scales this morning had been wavering perilously close to the red section his doctor had painted on them. He gave a reflexive shudder at the thought of another diet, and the vaguely patronizing lecture his doctor would undoubtedly give. 'Now then, your grace,' the medical pony would say. 'I've worked out another food plan for you. You can eat anything you want, this time - as long as it has no colour, no flavour, no calories and isn't tasty. Anything with the word 'bran' in the title is also acceptable – I'll inform your butler on my way out, don't worry.' Really, no matter how many new 'food plans' – he never called them 'diets', oh no, that was apparently out of touch with modern medical thinking – the doctor came up with, they always seemed to boil down to that most depressing of common denominators, that zero of the food world and the gourmand's despair: the celery stick. The thought of being subjected to weeks of celery sticks as his staple foodstuff would have been enough to keep Polaris firmly away from the snack table and just drinking the punch, had his sensitive nostrils not caught the most divine scent wafting around the ballroom. Almost completely without conscious direction, his hooves began to move him in the direction his nose told him the smell was coming from – a rather young mare with a sweet-shaped cutie mark, evidently quite appropriate, from the crumbly blocks of fudge she held in her hooves, the source of the delectable smell. “I say!” he said, magnetically drawn to the fudge. It wasn't standard elevenses fare, but the scent of it washed away all thoughts of restraint and dieting from Polaris's mind.“That smells simply divine! Chocolate, lashings of cream, and if I'm not very much mistaken, a dash or two of vanilla, as well. I don't suppose you happen to have a piece to spare, do you? Or failing that, a shop in town where I might buy some?”

Polaris His Grace the Duke of Manehattan, Earl of Baltimare and Viscount Fetlock A cultured diplomat and noblepony, who serves with distinction at the Royal Court. //Unicorn//Male//Stallion Profile ~Threads~ -Canterlot Royal Public Relations Office Open House- (Ended) - Fudge Frolic- (Ended) - Gala AfterGlow (Ongoing)

Hallo there! As the others have said, welcome to Canterlot! I'm sure you'll have a splendid time .

Polaris smiled gently as the Princess straightened from her own, lesser bow (an honour indeed), and spoke, her voice liquid chimes. It was rather heartwarming to see that she could talk with all sorts of ponies, switching from style to style with consummate ease and a gentle, soothing smile that brought them all closer together. “The pleasure is all mine, Highness, I assure you. I'm afraid I don't know a great deal more about the CRPR than any other noblepony, ma'am, and, in point of fact, quite probably less. I have the honour of being a member of the diplomatic corps for Princess Celestia, you see, and in the course of serving in that capacity, I've been far away from Canterlot for some time - so my knowledge of the Canterlot Royal Public Relations Office is...how shall I put this? Somewhat behind the times.” He whickered softly, slightly embarrassed at admitting less-than-perfect knowledge of something he, as a diplomat and noble both, felt he should know all about. “Indeed, when I was last in Canterlot, the CRPR mainly concerned itself with ensuring all royal events were sufficiently publicised and organized. A vital role, I admit, but rather focused. Niche, almost. Thus, I'm most interested in the expansion of the CRPR's remit that you have spearheaded recently – forgive me, but it seems as though many of the functions of the diplomatic corps – the mediation between ponies and other groups, goodwill visits and so forth - have been assumed by the CRPR.” He laughed, softly, deprecatingly, taking any sting out of his next words. “You might say I am merely looking out for my position – has the corps been amalgamated into the CRPR in its entirety? And if so, how might I – or any other member – now serve Equestria? That is, after all, what the nobility exists for.” he dropped his voice “Even if perhaps some have forgotten that.” He cast a wry glance towards the board of near-slumbering statesponies and a surprisingly wicked grin flashed across his cultured face for just a moment, his voice at a level pitched perfectly so that just Cadance could hear. “Perhaps I should also ask Dusty Chronicle – that is he, is it not? if he plans to talk to other ponies through a megaphone. At the least, it might wake the rest of your supporting cast up a little.” Conspiratorially, he added: “I rather think dancing is beyond most of them, but I would be most honoured if you would consent to dance with me later on. This music is quite...invigorating.”

His Dark Materials is one of my favourite book series . Welcome to Canterlot, CelestialPegasus - I'm certain you'll have a splendid time!

“Have a good day, your grace,” that was the lugubrious voice of Polaris' gentlepony's gentlepony, Sheaves, as the double doors of Hoofburgh House shut behind the duke. Squinting slightly in the sunlight at the royal city which wavered and shimmered in the heat, Polaris set off at a sedate pace, breathing in all the sights and smells of the metropolis. Or rather, nearly being bowled over by the scent of late roses, planted in their hundreds in the gardens that surrounded his residence. Massed ranks of Filly's Blush, Foaly Hobbs, Hoofmann, Immortal Celestia and a thousand others presented an almost solid barrier of perfume, completely blocking the less-refined smells of Canterlot itself. Polaris thinned his nostrils and trotted quickly through – normally, the roses were pleasant, but the coordinated burst of flowers at the change of the seasons was just too much for his sensitive nose. Fortunately, it was just a quick canter to the gates, where he could resume his stroll with more dignity. As he stepped out from between the iron-and-gilt – permanently open – gates, he took a deep, satisfied breath. Foreign travel was all very well, but it was always nice to come back home, and remind himself why he talked to fractious griffons, frankly incomprehensible zebras, dragons who spoke a thousand years out-of-date and much else. It was for these ponies, for their ordered way of life and the safety and security of the royal city, and that thought put a smile on his face as he stepped out into the genteel crowds, mingling as only a career diplomat could – noticed when he wished to be, such as when spotting old acquaintances, and slipping away when not. He ambled gently through the shining streets of Canterlot city, drinking in the sunshine and the chatter all around. The pegasi assigned to the royal city had apparently decided that today should be brilliantly sunny, but with the occasional fluffy white cloud to break up the harshness of the blue sky and dim the white blaze of the marble – for which he was thankful. Behind him, the be-turreted mass of Hoofburgh House and its gardens receded into the distance, rapidly vanishing behind the minarets, towers, carriages, airships and ponies of the bustling capital. This really was most pleasant; Polaris absently began to hum one of the songs which had been popular the last time he was in Canterlot, murmuring some of the words under his breath in time to the tune in his head. “...at home at the opera, on a fancy yacht...becoming the talk, the talk of all of Canterlot...” He shook his head and whickered at his own foolishness. He was quite happy with his position, thank you very much; whilst adoring ponies were nice, they weren't the be-all and end-all of his life. Unlike some of the nobility, he remembered the old adage of noblesse oblige. Polaris' gentle ruminations on life in general and the delights of the royal city meant that he was rather oblivious to the finer details; it was only when his gentle stroll took him near a large, official noticeboard that his attention was drawn to a large, sumptuously-printed poster taking pride of place, sealed with the moon-and-sun of the Royal Court. Squinting – against the glare of the sun, or so he told himself (anything to avoid the indignity of a monocle or glasses) – he began to read. 'CRPR? Great Celestia, are they having some sort of outreach programme now?' Polaris thought. As far as he could remember, the Canterlot Royal Public Relations Office had mainly concerned themselves, at least domestically, with organizing and publicising royal events, making sure there were crowds of adoring ponies there - and nopony running around like a headless chicken because they hadn't known the Princess(es) were visiting. Things had evidently changed somewhat whilst he'd been on duty in Germaney and Itaily. Polaris raised his head and looked around. Corner of Cantavile Row and Sunbeam Street, which meant that the quickest route to Canterlot Castle was...that way. 'Unless somepony has redesigned the city's layout again', he thought, wryly, remembering returning from one trip abroad and managing to get lost within five minutes of setting hoof outside his own front door. He'd had to ask one of the Guards for directions, and if that hadn't been embarrassing, then what was? His thoughts had occupied him on the short walk to the Castle's gates, and now he could hear strains of music wafting from deeper within – a lively, perky tune distinctly different from the usual slow waltz and quadrille refrains. It rather put a spring in his step as he passed between the Guards at the Castle gates, giving them a friendly 'Good morning!' even though they weren't allowed to respond whilst on duty. Just because they couldn't reply didn't mean one should neglect the essential courtesies. The poster had said that the CRPR event was taking place in one of the smaller ballrooms, and sure enough, as he approached the venue, there was a large banner over the doors and the music was pouring forth from a small string quartet in one corner of the chamber. Despite being one of the smaller ballrooms, the place was still cavernous, and the small group of ponies already in there looked rather dwarfed. No matter; it was still early, and surely more would turn up. Any event with the word 'Royal' in the title generally could be assured of a good audience, in his experience. He cast a quick, critical eye over himself just before he crossed the threshold. Mane – nice and straight. Tail – under control. Coat – freshly brushed. Apparel – acceptable. As he trotted serenely into the ballroom, his eyes caught on the pony at the centre of the others, just in front of a board of rather sleepy-looking elder statesponies. He blinked as he came closer still, just to be sure. With a diplomat's grace, he inserted himself into the small press of ponies around – yes, his eyes hadn't misled him. Gods and stars, Princess Cadance herself! If the general pony at large knew they could meet Her Highness in person here, the event would have been packed out before breakfast, surely. Polaris held himself back a little from the crush until an opening presented itself; the Princess already had quite enough greetings on her plate already, and when the time was right he would introduce himself. Simply butting in would have been the height of rudeness, and that was something he simply did not tolerate. As the press of ponies around the Princess cleared somewhat, Polaris swept his most courtly bow. “Good morning, Your Highness – a pleasure to see you here. I must confess, I'm most interested to hear more about your reforms of the CRPR. It seems you have implemented great changes of late. Ah, but where are my manners? Polaris, ma'am – Duke of Manehattan, if it pleases you.”

Deer season in the UK runs from August to the end of April (stags) or March (does/hinds) . There is a type of deer you can hunt at any time, too, but I don't think we have any where I am. EDIT: Obviously, you don't aim for the heavily pregnant / just birthed does. That would be silly.

Hmm... Spring: Venison. Spring is the time of year the stags from the local herds can be hunted properly so there's always a glut in the game larder. But it tastes so very fine that I always crave the stuff whenever springtime rolls around. Plus you can do so much with it, and it's a rich, delicious meat perfect for stews and casseroles when the spring weather takes a turn for the wintry again. Summer: Vittorian salad. Summer is the time of picnic hampers by the river, of sweltering days where no-one can be bothered to cook or eat something hot, of long rides on horses with deliciousness in the saddlebags . Vittorian salad is always part of the hamper, and I look forward to it like nothing else, since it's never made for any other time. Autumn: Beef wellington. A nice chunk of prime beef marinaded in red wine, slathered in foie gras and wrapped around with pastry, it's perfect for warming bodies still used to the summery warmth. Autumn is my favourite season, as it slopes into winter - not so much for the colour of the leaves as for the fading of the light and that ethereal, crepuscular quality it gets as dusk settles across the countryside, the smell of woodsmoke drifting on the chilly breeze and the playful bite of the cold. Halloween is always a delightful night to be out and about - and no-one looks at you twice if you put on your Grim Reaper costume... Winter: Cranberry tea with a tot of brandy and cinnamon dusted on top. This is the staple drink of winter in my house, and I crave it the instant winter sets foot in the door. An enormous jug of it is always on the go, and it's perfect both as a morning pick-me-up, to brace you against the bitter chill, and as a relaxing, warming I've-just-come-in-from-the-cold drink. Winter is a close second, after autumn, for my favourite season. I love the clarity of winter days, the endless blue bowl of the sky, the stark simplicity of the landscape. The warm glow of lights from the house, the cheer of other madmen out in the bitter weather, and the delightful feeling of being curled up in front of a blazing fire with a good book and a glass of something hot and wicked whilst the wind and snow rage outside is very hard to beat.

I've always felt we needed more drama in a courtroom. Spice up the Latin with some fantabulous interpretive acting - courtroom proceedings tend to put me to sleep under the normal course of events .

Welcome to Canterlot! I'm sure you'll fit right in with everypony else . I hope you'll have an absolutely splendid time!

Hello there! Welcome to Canterlot; I'm sure you'll have a splendid time. Obligatory question: favourite food? If you could have absolutely anything, that is. And commiserations on the job application front; I understand completely.

Hallo there . Welcome to Canterlot; I'm sure you'll have an absolutely splendid time!

Afraid not . You have to wait for a Moderator to come along and give it a final once-over. The Helpstaff assess it first to check for glaring errors or something that really won't fit the RP, then the Moderators have a look and, if they agree with the helpstaff assessment, approve you and move you into the Roleplayers group, giving you access to the Mane RP. (See the Pinned topic in the subforum for this information.) Patience .

Hurrah! Thank you very much sir - and Magical, thanks for the vote of confidence in Polaris' awesomeness .

Well, allow me to be the first to welcome you to Canterlot! I hope you'll have fun; always nice to meet a fellow steampunk enthusiast, too .