Stable 83 Collection

Whitecliff adjusted the knot of his tie in the bathroom mirror, making sure that it rested in the very center of his chest. On this most important day, he could not afford to neglect any detail, no matter how small.

He heard his father call for him from the other room and hurried out to meet him, but stopped mid-step when he saw who else was waiting near the doorway.

Mascarpone smiled sweetly at Whitecliff. “I hope you don’t mind. Your father suggested that I join you. After all, since we are to be partners in life, it is only right that I should be by your side.”

He swallowed back his disappointment and put on his signature charming smile. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Wonderful.” His father set a firm hoof on his shoulder. “I trust you’ll do good work today.”

Overseer Sheerwater was not a gentle stallion, and he certainly did not have the best interests of the stable in his heart. Whitecliff had recognized his father’s flaws from an early age. If Sheerwater did not retire soon, the stable would be facing more than the weekly non-violent protests. A war was brewing, a war that Whitecliff intended to avoid completely.

He smiled at his father. “I won’t let you down.”

Mascarpone giggled. “You look so handsome in that outfit, Cliffy.”

A hot spike of irritation stabbed at Whitecliff, but he shrugged it off. Dealing with his fiancée was one of many tasks he would be expected to handle as the next Overseer of Stable 83.

“Thank you, darling,” he replied evenly. “Shall we be on our way?”

Mascarpone followed Whitecliff out of his family’s apartment and through the polished halls. This area of the stable was kept clean -- nearly sparkling -- as only the highborn unicorns were permitted to be present here. That was aside from the deer that did the cleaning, of course.

He took notes on his PipBuck as he met with pony after pony, checking on the current status of each department within the stable. The head of stable entertainment had a complaint about a broken stage light in the Atrium, but other than that, everything was running rather smoothly.

After he had made his way through the list of departments headed by unicorns, Mascarpone yawned and stretched dramatically. “The deer aren’t that important, darling. We can skip them, can’t we? After all, it’s almost time for tea.”

Whitecliff frowned at his fiancée. “The deer are half of our stable’s population. What do you mean they aren’t important?”

She huffed. “They’re the little worker bees, nothing more. Why do we care about how well they’re doing?”

“Mascarpone, without the deer, our stable wouldn’t be running nearly as well as it is.”

“No unicorn wants those dirty maintenance jobs anyway. Let the deer have them all.”

Whitecliff stared at her. He had always known that she was a stuck up and spoiled brat, but he never imagined she would have such an outspoken bias against the deer.

He took a long moment to compose himself and to organize his thoughts. Finally, he looked her in the eyes. “It’s my job as the future Overseer to meet once a week with every department head, including the departments that are run by deer. Whether you accompany me or not, I’ll be meeting with them now.”

Mascarpone’s eyes bulged in surprise and her mouth gaped open and closed, searching for words to retaliate.

Whitecliff didn’t allow her the chance. He turned and trotted with purpose towards the stairwell. After a few moments, his fiancée’s hoofsteps began to follow him.

The clean and sweet-smelling halls slowly faded into drab gray walls with metal flooring that clanged harshly against Whitecliff’s hooves. The sound was nothing like the satisfying, crisp clip-clops of the freshly mopped floors of the upper levels.

Mascarpone whined unhappily from behind him, muttering under her breath about dirt and rust.

Whitecliff rolled his eyes and stopped trotting to check his location on his PipBuck. He had only been down to these levels a few times before and was unfamiliar with the correct route to the first department office.

After double checking which direction he was headed, he continued on his way until the hallway opened up to a balcony with metal rails overlooking a large room filled with several lines of machines.

Mascarpone sniffed in disdain. “These lower levels are such a bore.”

Whitecliff took a deep breath to prevent himself from snapping at her and descended the metal stairs to walk through an aisle with machines on either side of him.

He had no idea what the purpose of these machines might be, but there were deer tending to each one, carefully monitoring them. Had they not been giving him hate-filled and confused looks as he passed, he may have stopped to ask one what they were doing.

Eventually the line of machines ended and Whitecliff now found himself standing at the back of a crowd of deer, all facing away from him.

“Excuse me,” he inquired of the deer nearest to him. “What’s go-”

“Hush!” the deer sharply cut him off. “I’m trying to listen!”

“Listen to…” Whitecliff began, but trailed off as he realized he could hear shouting from somewhere towards the front of the crowd. His ears pricked upwards to listen in.

“They aren’t listening to us” the voice called over the crowd. “They don’t think our protests are important enough to warrant concern!”

Several voices around Whitecliff shouted in agreement and he caught a number of rather rude terms for unicorns from a few of them. He began making his way through the crowd, apologizing profusely as he weaved his way towards the front. Thankfully, hardly any of the deer noticed his presence. They were all too focused on the speech.

“They are nothing without us!” the voice continued. “They need the resources we provide! They need to understand that without us, they have nothing! We need to show them!”

“Pardon me,” Whitecliff whispered as he nudged aside another deer. He could catch glances of the speaker now that he was nearing the front of the crowd. They appeared to be a doe, standing on top of a metal crate, but he couldn’t make out any details.

“Our efforts will not go in vain,” the speaker promised. “By the end of this month, the unicorns will be begging us to help them. We will finally have the equality that we deserve! We-”

Whitecliff finally pushed through the front of the crowd, finding himself only a few feet away from the doe on top of the crate.

Her coat was a pale blue-green with markings as white as snow and her long mane hung down past her shoulders in gentle waves. Her mouth hung open mid-sentence as she looked down at him in complete surprise.

Whitecliff looked back at her, frozen in shock at the sight of such a beautiful deer.

Then the doe’s expression turned angry as she hopped off the crate and marched straight towards him. “What are YOU doing here?” she demanded.

Cliff found himself at a loss for words. “I-I...department meetings!”

“Who do you think you are?” the doe growled as she stopped within inches from him and raised a hoof to poke his chest. “Unicorns never come down here!”

He swallowed nervously, staring into her fiery eyes that were now quite close to his. “Do you know where I can find the head of maintenance?” he asked meekly, stumbling through his words.

“How DARE you touch him!” a voice shrieked from behind him. “Who do you think YOU are, you filthy deer?”

Whitecliff’s hopes for a peaceful resolution to this conflict immediately plummeted.

The doe stepped back and turned her attention towards the bristling mare that stood behind Whitecliff. “And you are?” she wondered, one eyebrow raised to show that she didn’t quite care about the answer.

Mascarpone sputtered angrily, infuriated even further by this deer’s complete disrespect. “I am the future Overseer’s intended.” She stuck her nose into the air as if this argument invalidated all others.

Whitecliff cleared his throat. “Mascarpone, darling, I can handle this. Please return to the higher levels. I’ll meet with you this evening.”

Mascarpone glanced at him and then at the number of deer surrounding them. All attention was now on her. A number of the deer were giving her bitter looks, some even seemed quite threatening. Whispers traveled through the crowd, once again filled with those insulting titles.

“I-I suppose,” she mumbled and quickly turned to disappear back the way they had come.

“My apologies for my fiancée’s behavior,” Whitecliff addressed the doe. “Her way of thinking is quite...flawed.”

The doe looked at him in surprise. “Your fiancée? So that means that you are Overseer Shearwater’s son?”

Whitecliff smiled, gaining confidence now that the doe’s anger was directed elsewhere. “You may call me Whitecliff. I am here to meet with the head of maintenance. I believe I have an appointment scheduled.”

“...well, sure, but I didn’t expect anyone to actually show up.” The doe sighed heavily, her initial anger melting away as she gave him a slightly pitying look. “Alright then, come on. My office is this way.”