Under the Spreading Chestnut Tree

The Chestnut Tree was as seasoned as it was renowned. The air, thick with scents of exotic spices, brought to mind the congregations many a year ago of enterprising ponies, sobered by plethoric wells of black coffee and fanatically discussing commerce. Smoky burgundy linens no less recollected the listless nightdwellers who had once come and come again to enjoy a drink with loneliness. Dainty mares clothed in crinoline found love under its ornate, flickering chandeliers; prudent stallions, their fortunes. Ponies met eyes, wine flowed freely, and waiters paraded about sporting eye-catching dishes. A chamber ensemble recalled a pretty tune.

"Under the spreading chestnut tree,
I sold you and you sold me."

~~~

"Lovely, is it not?" Victoria queried rhetorically, absently intertwining forelegs with Renaultar as they stood before the attendant.

"Your table awaits, sir," announced a curly-mustached stallion with a pragmatic air, eyeing Renny proudly as he conducted them to their seats on the large marble balcony.

She situated herself methodically, having frequented the restaurant alongside other stallions and mares for years. The fact that the waiter hesitated before presenting the wine menu to Renaultar asserted this.

When all was said and done, Victoria segued into conversation. "I'd give anything to know more about you, Renaultar Shielder." She enunciated his name with betraying endearment.

Renaultar had not ever been to Canterlot in his life. He couldn't help but look around at the fancy sights around him and at the glamorous sights. It was all so high class and above what he was used to in the run down city of Manehattan.

He almost missed his cue to pull out a seat for Victoria, letting her sit first. "Allow me." He smiled and carefully moved her seat in for her to sit.

Once he took a seat of his own, not really paying the waiter much mind as he got his menu. He was more focused on Victoria.

"Oh me?" He was caught off guard. He expected the conversation to begin with him asking questions. This mare was really catching his interest.

"Well...." He blushed at her words. Anything was a lot of things to do to just to get to know him. Perhaps those things could help him to get to know her- Dirty thoughts Renny. Keep to task.

"...I have been in law enforcement for 6 years now. Used to be a Sargent. I like long walks and....." He shied away his gaze for a moment. "...I play some piano...Just a side hobby."

Nice one there Renny. I bet that really got her interest, being all hush about it. Renaultar cursed himself for even mentioning it. He felt far too personal about that aspect of his free time.

Reserving an instant to note his well-practiced etiquette, Victoria accumulated a hooveful of qualitative assumptions. Had he, somewhere in his history, a significant other? Infidelity, perversely enough, awarded her quiet satisfaction: love, more so than profit or fame, had the power to set a pony's plans awry.

She leaned deliberately into the table, figuratively submitting herself to their conversation.

"Pray thee tary, love. Nothing about you sh'll I ever find unremarkable." Victoria, being inherently confrontational, sought to rid him of what slight discomfort lay embedded in his words. In her eyes, a beguiling lie such as this was not so dearly bought.

"Six years to your name, and a prestigious title too. I find it marvelous," She hailed, intentionally neglecting to address the misfortunes about which Renny seemed to be insinuating. She reasoned that tales of demotion were best disclosed at the teller's whim. "Do pardon my humility! Oh, how little I understand of the procedure." Her cheeks flushed red as if by cue.

"How wonderful it is, too, that you appreciate such subtle joys as the simple stroll. All too seldom're there stallions who'll rec'gnize our earthly fruits. Now as for your musicianship, I simply would you were more public about it, darling! I always admire a pony with a refined ear. Be it so, do pleasure me to indulge," She was again aware of the sexual connotations but proceeded before they could be fully grasped.

"Dutiful, clairvoyant, artistic... My, mon chère, you're quite th' bona fide Reneighssance pony," she concluded with an improvised contralto voice.

Renaultar blinked and smiled for a few moments, processing her last statement. He had to draw from everything to figure it out. Though what he did understand from her only made him blush and squirm in his seat.

"I..only play a little. Not sure about how good I am...But maybe...I could...'indulge' you sometime and play a piece."

Renny was clearly on the defensive when it came to this conversation. Usually he was used to giving the questions and carrying the conversation. Next chance he got, he turned things around.

"So Miss Victoria. Tell me about yourself?....Surely a mare so wonderful as you has a story to tell." He threw in a bit of his own charm, happy to listen to what she had to say.

To her pleasure, Victoria interpreted his invitation as progress. His mild verbal jousts suggested a resolve to withhold some natural charisma. The virtuous inclinations of such gregarious ponies as these fortold much about them, and Victoria determined to identify this trait in Renny.

"You would do me the honor? Why, merci beaucoup!" Victoria expended particular effort to integrate these French interjections compellingly. She spoke in a markedly genuine manner; for the guardpony had not only teased her linguistic fancies, but also touched upon an actual interest of hers.

"A little about me, for what 'tis worth," such was her preamble. She drew a thoughtful hoof to her lip.

"Now I've yet to make such an impression upon these parts as yourself. Indeed, it is not so long ago that I departed from my parents' estate - not so far from here, in turn. I've as of lately consulted quite a few ponies about, searching for a life a'settled. Altogether a curious rendezvou, ya' might say." It was equally so that she successfully managed to embellish what was, in truth, idleness. She in fact cared least financially - a reprecussion of her upbringing.

"I do therefore love life's wonders, pretty things and the like... and indubitably, splendid moments such as this. Pls'excuse my frivolity." Her dialectical cadenza obscured her motives well.

Renaultar leaned in while resting his head on a hoof, staring at Victoria. Her fancy words sounded lovely to his ears, even if he could hardly understand what was being said. He was still slow to pick up completely on her meaning.

"Oh, no frivolity needs excusing...The small things in life are worth it." He looked down for a moment, considering his next choice of words. "Its a funny thing...The big scheme of things can be so terrible and depressing, but the small things can keep you going forever." He spoke as if it came from personal experience. But he did not want to bring that to the table.

He looked up again, a smile on him once more. "I bet you'll find your place soon enough. Your family is lucky to have a mare such as yourself." Renny spoke more with the intent to woo than make fact.

Victoria, in all honesty, found herself taken aback by the magnanimity of his sudden intuition. It broached irony to comprehend the truth and applicability in his words, and they subsequently aroused her suspicion. She gently veered from the pursuit of philosophical enigmas.

"Forever," she echoed with steadfast simplicity.

It then struck her that his words had rendered him secretly distraught, and she in her unconventional outlook moved to mend this. Either she would buy his trust and thereto unlock its qualities or ruin that which she had thus far accomplished. She continued in a smooth whisper, nodding to the stars.

"In such a night
Did Thisbe fearfully o'erstrip the dew
And saw the lion's shadow ere himself
And ran dismayed away.

I entreat you to confide in me, love. Be we good friends as I do hope, that which troubles you ever troubles me. Confess and love, monsieur," she punned warmly.

Renaultar spent a few moments going over her words before he smiled. "You are too kind...Well...I suppose..." He began but was stopped moments later as the waiter had returned.

"Oh shucks. I forgot. Uhhhh." He grabbed the menu, skimming over it and realizing that either it was in a different language or he was holding it upside down. "You know...I'll....Just have what is popular. I like surprises."

He waited for the waiter to get her order before attempting to resume the conversation. "You know...With the way things are..." He sighed and shook his head. "I don't know if you want to hear about me ramble about depressing topics. The streets are rough."

Victoria was relieved to see that he had conformed in fair spirit.

She silently observed his ambivalence - committed his frazzled gesture to memory - and followed suit, much to the waiter's dismay. "I'd like what he's having," she murmured with the slightest hint of consolation. The disturbance entitled a momentary silence.

"If without expense to thyself you will share, I will listen. By no means shall my impetuosity ever impeach upon the security of your sweet mind," she hazarded, affixing the latter statement as though it were a given.

Victoria meanwhile dissected his last words intently. She pondered his disposition, recalling the deadened streets of lower Manehattan. She knew only that there existed in this cobblestone abyss a host of troubles, among which stood poverty and corruption. She discharged her guesswork and looked to Renaultar's clouded expression.

Impet- Imetuos- Impetuosity? What does that even mean? Renaultar thought, but it was quickly swept aside for what was at hoof.

"Thank you...But as you already know...Manehattan is...almost a joke." He let his head hang. "I got my cutie mark for helping those in need. And i love to do it, but it all feel so....useless with the scale of whats going on. So many other guardponies that i can't even trust. And when i try to get a hook in the mob, i get this." He pointed a hoof to his eyepatch. "Least that is whats left after being in the hospital for a few months. Glad to be walking again."

He let out a sigh and looked down at the table. "I help a pony every day and learn about 10 more that are taken advantage of before the day is over. And the most obviously responsible ones are the ones i cannot even touch."

"O how disheartening it is," she lamented, dipping her cheek.

Subduing all machinations, she lightly touched a hoof to his jaw and bridged cautious phrases.

"Though if I may beg of you think more of yerself, my cher ami: some shall be pardon'd and some punishèd. Futility is but a haunting masquerade, is it not?" Her speech hastened. "Your contributions affect so very many causes! Methinks I, for sure, am forever indebted to your goodly self. It is said that no snowflake in an avalanche ever feels responsible. Let it then be acknowledged that none are thereby any weaker," she consoled fervently.

Renaultar put on a smiled, but it was not a wholly convinced one. "I appreciate the kind words..." He recalled the events that led to his demotion for a moment, his smile fading with it. "But I feel like I will be stuck being the little guy in the scheme of things. Manehattan is sick, and i can barely treat the symptoms. All while the disease itself is just growing. One day I tried to save...." He stopped and shook his head.

"Im sorry. At this rate i may ramble forever about these things. Surely there is something more uplifting to talk about with such a fine evening." Renaultar put on a soft smile, though behind it there were hints of past damage emerging from where his conversation was going.

Victoria had surfeited in her advance when she discerned his unspoken suggestions. In a delicate game of nips and tucks, it was necessary to let fresh blood coagulate.

She regained a lighter tone. "Yes yes, dear. May we not, on this lovely night, drink to accomplishment? I hold in good faith that you have, in present, made amends in apprehending that unfortun'te carpenter - so hinted to me the comissioner at the station. How pretty is it to see justice harbor reconciliation! And equally pretty shall be the faces of the little foals in their refurbished schoolyard."

Her thoughts separated from her speech, all the while assessing the fragmented clauses that constituted Renaultar's monologue. Somewhere in his past, as he illustrated, something terribly traumatic had occured; something which reserved the power to cripple his otherwise impeccable mentality, and most importantly, could be excited voluntarily. In accordance with her character, this spurred Victoria to investigate. She computed and registered this realization in the same moment.

She mirrored his superficial smile, hers only differing in fundamentals.

His thoughts lingered for a few moments, turning over some memories before letting them go. It was then he realized he reached a point he dreaded when it came to dinner with mares. A lack of conversation.

His smile soon became an uncertain and nervous one. The silence was beginning to build. Reflexes he made to avoid having nervous moments with desired company kicked in.

"So..uh...visit any nice shops lately?"

"Mercy to thyself, Renaultar! I shalln't bore you with the grocer's shenanigans; much less my shopping list," she jested, exaggerating her cheer to compensate for the unpleasant break in conversation. For one, Victoria preferred not to stray along tangents of insubstantial discourse. What progress they turned out coincided very rarely with her desires. That said, it was not unlikely that no visit had been paid to the market at all.

She met his pupils with a humble glance, preparing some new remediation. Frankness would be her next instrument.

"I apologize, monsieur, for I too seldom buy the chance to converse with gentlecolts like yerself. Under spotlight the swan song is hushed - in th'way the nightingale warbles not to the morn'," she installed at length.

"Nay, but you're so wonderf'lly different. Beyond the knave we play, there must be more to your social digest," she encouraged heartily. Thus was her way of disguising the invasive questions which she put forward to find out more about this guardpony's relationships.

Renaultar gave pause to think about what she said. Finding the complete meaning to her words. He was not so quick to figure them out.

"Well...Heh...Sorry. I'm not so used to talking about myself." He leaned back in his chair, giving himself some space to reset his thoughts. "I'm one of three foals. My mother passed away after me. And my father...Well, we have a very...odd relationship. I haven't spoken to him in a long time. Nor my siblings. I have a tendency to want to live on my own, despite our family having some 'higher class' presence."

Reacting in a procedural manner, Victoria frowned and tipped her snout to portray compassion.

"I'm so terribly sorry to hear it, love. More too does it pain me t'know what unfav'rable terms behold yer' family and 'yerself." Her expression brightened and her tone likened to a Humoresque. "If 'tis as you say, I do believe you've made quite a Darnay out of yourself. As did he separate and descend from the wealthy to restore harmony in Prance, so has yer' virtue sweetened these streets." Flattery rolled gracefully off the tongue.

"And have misfortunes not served to better your character, gentle Renaultar?" she continued. "I fear my undying fascination presses you; and yet, there exist so many tales untold in that head of yers'. As for your filial situation, I pray that better becomes of it. How curious 'tis that bits and benevolence often share so little correlation."

Her last statement sustained a hint of empathy. However, while also in her own situation mother and father had supplemented the cold heart with the provident hand, Victoria honestly thought little of it. It was unclear whether or not she had ever really distinguished ponies from machines.

Renaultar couldn't hide his blush. He bashfully cringed on the spot for the compliments, mostly at her calling him 'gentle'. "Heh, aww. Your too kind."

It was not long after in his moment of enjoyment that the waiter arrived with their food and drink. Renny thanked him before quickly starting on the wine to distract himself from his moment.

"So, Victoria, you clearly have a thorough understanding of things, but i am curious how you got there. Tell me more about you. Where are you from? Surely you didn't learn your lovely dialect on your own at home. Your word play is fabulous." He smiled to her sincerely, but was aware of her dress up on some occasions.

Victoria purchased the same moment to construct her next speech as well as to taste the wine. Her sips were tantalizingly shallow whilst she prioritized sharpness over indulgence.

"Likewise, friend. T'my best ability, I answer: My family, consisting of my father, mother, and myself, did ascend from a rural community in Prance many moons ago," she explained, by intention omitting the fact that she had been raised almost entirely on the gated Canterlot estate. "Dear father was an eager youth who collect'd revenues by means of usury, financing covert lil' enterprises here and there. 'Tis the way by which he climbed the ranks of the elite; and by which he gathered the necessary sum to educate me. And by which he stole th'heart of mother... A sweet, learnèd mare who did bequeath unto myself much'f mine identity."

This description very closely approached the truth. Stemming from ubiquitous disinterest, little Victoria and her mother exchanged very few words. Nonetheless, she had absorbed much of that which the hedonistic matriarchal figure ultimately taught by example. She had learned to employ simple words as weapons of influence. She had learned to extract liberally and seldom compromise with other ponies. Above all, she had learned to hate silently.

She forked a morsel and consumed it in unusually good fashion.

Renaultar could hardly hide his slight frown at hearing about her fathers methods in acquiring wealth. There were enough wealthy ponies in this city that did terrible things for bits. It was funny that they had some similarities in terms of their father, though he did not see his own as taking advantage of ponies.

"Your mother sounds like a wonderful pony. She must love you very much. Lovely hearts come from the land of Prance. I think she did well to make sure you inherited that." He moved the topic away from her father and sought to compliment her as well as discuss her mother. A luxury that Renny did not have.

She lifted her brow to convey reminiscence - and this, for once, she gave herself.

She recalled innumerable occasions on which she would lay before her mother, at a
soirée on the manor or otherwise. Young Victoria would simply sing, 'at your service, mother,' and the jaunty matron would relate to the filly the scurrilous affairs of virtually everypony present. It would always be the 'beastly stallion who is vile when sober and more so when intoxicated' or the 'sober-suited mare who'd learnt to lose a winning match o'er maidenhood'. If mother told Victoria to jump, she would jump; and so at he or she whom mother ridiculed with teeth bared, Victoria giggled delightedly. She was decidedly fond of these memories. If the mare to which she was born did not reciprocate her devotion, at least she had instilled in Victoria some direction.

"Oui, wonderful," she murmured dreamily.

She was vaguely aware that Renny had thought better than to address her father. While the reason was not immediately apparent to her, she noted not to revisit him in conversation.

"You're very kind to say so." Her shoulders receded and she clasped her hooves.

Renaultar leaned in, smiling at her response. Many things jumped out for him. The lack of fancy words, or words in general. This was the first response he got from her that he had no verbal decryption to do. More of his attention was put on her body language and tone.

He scooped up his wine glass, sloshing it around for a moment before speaking. "I hope your family would approve of you being in my company..." He sipped from the wine. He knew his words had a double edge to them, but he wished to probe a bit more into this reaction he got from her.

She stopped to repossess her stature. Renny's persuasions decomposed; they dislodged a brick in the fortress of her mind.

Let her be his so that he may be hers, she reminded herself.

His remark, while mild in itself, suggested things. She deemed unobtrusive conjecture to be the most appropriate response.

"If you could only know the shine in mother's eyes," she expressed after reacquiring control, "when should she look upon you. She'd say. 'quite the charmer is that stallion! 'Tis lucky that the insolent filly may find her fiery-footed steed to bring in cloudy night.'" Victoria pursed her lips, quietly evaluating her words. Such phrases attempted to regain leisurely excess while still maintaining indisputable meaning. To further dissuade his scrutiny, she skillfully deviated amidst more perversion.

Renaultar was...bothered. It seemed that her parental situation was not as ideal as Renny would have thought. He was not any better, but he was without a mother. As much as he was complimented, he felt worry.

"...How are you?...Really. You sound like you have troubles in there." Renaultar looked into her eyes, curious but mostly open with honest worry. His cutie mark sake to aid was coming to play. He knew it was a very blunt and reckless way to ask, but his word play only went so far, and he did not favor playing around the topic so much anymore. He only hoped that she were capable of such plain speech.

Victoria's instinct was to speak, and she moved her jaw to do so.

For a moment, no words could be found.

She had never before reached this point in conversation. They had, just now, achieved some sort of unprecedented intimacy. The trepidation which she then experienced, in fear of having plunged herself into an abyss, turned his friendly inquiry bittersweet. Suddenly she could but taste an insatiable rage; one which set in her mind a grotesque image of a mutilated Renny, brutalized with a rubber truncheon - bound to a post and shot full of arrows - ravished and castrated at the point of climax, and at her bloodied hooves. While this vivid notion reinvigorated her motives, she would not allow the sudden articulation of fury to permeate the walls of her exterior.

Instead, she smiled. It was a convincing gesture.

"Troubles? No, beloved, hardly. Troubles elude these starlit occasions. Troubled am I not in your dear presence, brother." Her tone was imperceptibly assertive.