Chapter 2
The train grounded to a screeching halt at Peaking Dawn station at around eleven in the morning. The morning fog had long since dissipated from the city, and the remaining clouds were removed by specialized weather teams, trained to deal with the kind of weather that assaulted mountains at such high altitudes. The train, which was smaller and more rustic compared to the mammoth engines that also populated the station, opened its coaches to allow its passengers to depart. But only one pony got off the train. Hayseed climbed down his coach’s steps and took a deep breath, trying to savor the smell of the new city. It had taken sixteen hours, but he had finally arrived to Canterlot.
From a distance, the spires were a thing of beauty, something that ponies sometimes stopped to admire. But seeing them from within the city left Hayseed’s jaw hanging. He couldn’t believe it. He had finally made it to the big city. The beige pony’s face broke out into a massive, lopsided grin as he tried to take in the sites in front of him.
“Get out of the way!” shouted a grey pony as he shoved Hayseed aside.
“Oh, sorry mister,” called out the Ponyvillian, backing up to get out of the way, only to hit a moving luggage cart.
“Hey! Watch it!” cried out an indignant platform worker.
“Sorry.” Hayseed stumbled away from the pile of suitcases and luggage he created, and straight towards the exit…which also happened to be the most crowded area of the station.
“Ouch!”
“Sorry.”
“My tail!”
“Sorry.”
What the!?”
“Sorry.”
“Watch it!”
“Sorry.”
“SWEET CELESTIA, MY EYES!!!”
“…sorry.”
Hayseed broke free from the stream of bodies that flowed across the platform of Equestria’s largest transportation hub, and, as countless new arrivals to the urban bustle of Canterlot before him have done, breathed a sigh of relief. The beige stallion stood up right, straightened his hat, tightened his bindle…
… tightened his bindle…
Hayseed gasped in shock as he realized that his bindle, the thing that carried all his worldly possessions, was no longer on his shoulder. Looking back through the gates of the terminal’s exit, towards the sea of hundreds of travelers that were marching up and down the station, Hayseed could see his bindle and stick lying on the middle of the platform, surrounded by stomping hooves. The colt only got a brief glimpse of it before it was kicked away by an unsuspecting mare.
Hayseed cried out in horror and ran back towards the platform as fast as he could, only to be blocked by a wall of ponies that immediately stepped in front of him.
“What the?” he muttered. Looking towards the front of the line, Hayseed saw a red stand with an umbrella and a fat stallion behind a counter.
“Haydogs! Get your haydogs here!”
“Oh you’ve got tah be kiddin’ me!”
Hayseed dropped on his belly and crawled through the legs of the hungry ponies, much to their surprise. Once he had finally made it back onto the platform, he was left disoriented by the noise and number of ponies gliding to and fro. He whipped his head back and forth, and out of the corner of his eye managed to spot a hint of red on the floor to his right. Scrambling after it, Hayseed was mere inches away from his belongings before they were once again kicked out of the way…
…and towards the rails.
Hayseed’s eyes widened in horror. He dove towards the red cloth and stick, knocking away ponies with ease, and slid across the ground in a desperate attempt to reach his ‘luggage’ before it fell into the tracks and was crushed by an oncoming train. Just as the tip of his outstretched hoof grazed the stick of his pack, another luggage cart rolled by, knocking the bindle away with such force that it flew off into the air. Hayseed could only watch with dismay as his possessions once again left his clutches.
The bindle fell onto the roof of the train station, rolled down and bounced off the umbrella of the haydog cart, spun through a stack of smoke of one of the trains, landed on the roof of said train, and was whipped off by the force of the train stopping before smacking a janitor upside the head and landing in his hooves.
And in all that time, Hayseed’s heart stopped, restarted, stopped again, and restarted a second time.
“Oh thank goodness!” exclaimed the turnip farmer in relief as he ran up the custodian who held his belongings. “Thanks for saving mah stuff mister. Ah almost had a heart attack!”
Hayseed was blissfully unaware that he literally had not one, but two heart attacks.
The stallion, a skinny, light brown coated lad with a black mane and gray overalls, looked up at Hayseed with a raised eyebrow. “This is yours you say?” he asked with a heavy accent that Hayseed couldn’t place.
“Yesum,” replied Hayseed with an outstretched hoof.
“Hmmm…mine now.”
“What?”
“Mine. Now,” repeated the earth-pony.
“B-but…but…that’s mah bindle!”
“What’s that expression you Equestrians have? Finders keepers, losers sleepers?”
“Actually, it’s ‘finders keepers, losers weepers.’”
“Oh, gracias.”
“No problem,” said Hayseed. The beige stallion turned around and walked away with a content smile on his face, happy that he could help that pony with his predicam-
“Hey wait uh a minute! That’s mah bindle! Give it back!”
“Why?” sneered the brown pony. “You’re the idiota who dropped the thing on my head. I think this should be compensation for my injuries.”
“Yer injuries? But ya seem fine tah me.”
“Hfm, shows what you know,” snorted the stallion. “Your things broke my spleen! How am I supposed to work when a have a…what’s that word that starts with an ‘I?’ ¿Cuando tengo un ‘bazo’ herido?”
“Huh?”
“Your stupid bag just broke my spleen, okay?” snapped the earth pony, frustrated by the language barrier between the two.
Hayseed’s eyes widened in horror. “It did? Look, ah’m sorry if ah hurt ya with mah bindle. But all mah things are in there.” Hayseed gave the stallion a pleading look. “Can ah please have it back? Ah promise tah find a way tah compi… copen… make up your injuries for ya.” Hayseed’s lower lip began to quiver as his eyes pierced the janitor.
The pony gave a long, fake, exaggerated sigh. “All right,” he said as he handed Hayseed back his luggage. “I guess I’m too nice for my own good,” he swooned, in an over the top manner. “You can take it for free if you really need it.”
“Really?” asked Hayseed ecstatically.
“Sure. Good luck, güey.” And with that, the janitor turned around and slipped into the crowd with surprising haste.
“Thanks, mister!” called out Hayseed with a wave. With his things back in his possession, the turnip farmer made his way out of the station and finally into Canterlot proper, but not before stopping at the haydog stand from earlier for some lunch. Hayseed patiently waited for the line to thin out as he waited to be served. The aroma of warm, cheap food permeated the area; by the time it was his turn to be served, his mouth was watering in anticipation to bite into one of the tantalizing haydogs.
“One haydog please.”
“That’ll be two bits,” grunted the fat stallion from behind the counter.
Hayseed opened his bindle and rummaged through his belongings in search of his money. But after a few minutes of scrambling his possessions, his coin purse was nowhere to be found.
“C’mon buddy, I ain’t got all day,” said the vendor gruffly with an annoyed expression. The patrons behind Hayseed were beginning to grumble impatiently behind him.
“Hold on mister, ah know ah got mah bits here somewhere.” Hayseed checked his sack one more time, then his shirt pocket, then under his hat, then his shirt pocket again (he had lost many a thing in that shirt pocket, so it never hurt to check twice), but his money was nowhere to be found.
“Look buddy, if you’re not gonna buy anything, then get out of the way. I’ve got ponies to feed and the last thing I need is a hick like you backing up my line.”
Hayseed sullenly got out of the line and left the station. But ah had mah purse in mah bag. What the hay happened tah it? Wait uh minute!
The janitor…
…he must’ve accidentally dropped mah bits when he gave me back mah stuff!
Hayseed looked over his shoulder and back towards the platform of the station. Even though it seemed impossible, the terminal had actually gotten more crowded in the time he left. The beige earth pony groaned. It didn’t take a genius to see that there was no way he could find the janitor in that crowd. Ah well, like momma always said: no use crying over spilled milk.
The money was inconsequential to Hayseed. His cousin had promised him a job when he arrived to Canterlot, and soon enough he would be rolling in the riches of Canterlot that his cousin had loved to boast about. With this in mind, Hayseed’s trademark smile found its way back onto his face, and he made his way to the streets of Canterlot.
The first thing he noticed was the *clip clopping* of hooves. At first he was startled by the noise, but when he looked down he noticed that the streets of Canterlot were all paved with stone. This amazed the turnip farmer. He had never seen paved roads before, and to walk down a street without getting mud on his hooves was an entirely novel experience.
The rest of the city proved to be just as fantastic. The marble architecture that surrounded the streets was full of intricate columns and spires that rose to the heavens. Before arriving to Canterlot, the largest building Hayseed had seen was four stories tall, and he felt minuscule compared to these massive feats of engineering. The city was also spotless, and the entire urban landscape seemed to glow under the sun’s rays. Countless colorful banners and flags flew from the city’s towers, lending some much-needed color to the view.
The ponies were also as extravagant as the city they resided in. During his stroll, Hayseed saw ponies wearing all sorts of colorful and superfluous clothing. Dozens of hats adorned with peacock feathers, rare silk threads, gaudy dyes, and even dragon scales rested on the heads of many of the residents, at times being larger than the ponies themselves! Expensive looking suits and dresses, some of which would have been considered antiquated fifty years ago, were worn with such joie de vivre that few could hope to point out how stupid they actually looked without being accused of being uncultured twits. Hayseed was considered an oddity in Ponyville for wearing something as simple as a shirt, but here he felt naked compared with how much clothing everypony else wore.
But the stunning buildings and colorful ponies all paled in comparison to Canterlot Castle, which loomed over the whole city. If the city glowed, then the castle practically radiated light. If the city was colorful, then the Castle was a canvas splattered with bright hues. And if the city was extravagant, then the Castle was the most flamboyant display of architecture and wealth on the entire planet (which it probably was).
Hayseed couldn’t help but stare slack-jawed at the entire sight. It was everything he could have wanted and more. It was as if he was transported into a fairytale. He felt like he could get lost in this beautiful city and not care.
Which was a good thing too, because it took him a whopping two minutes before he actually did get lost in the city.
One problem with the uniform building style of Canterlot was that for an outsider, every street looked exactly the same. Hayseed wandered around for hours trying to find his way to his cousin’s home. The stallion tried to navigate his way around using the map his cousin had sent him along with the tickets, but for the life of him Hayseed could not recognize the names of any of the streets.
It took a few more hours later for Hayseed to realize that had been holding the map upside down the whole time…
Unsurprisingly, navigating through the city became easier after that. Before long he arrived to the lower district of the city, and managed to find Bellgrave St. The stallion walked down the street where his cousin resided, and slowly but surely, the buildings became less radiant, the ponies less posh, and the streets and alleyways less clean. After a few minutes of walking, the marble buildings were entirely replaced with brick structures and dumbbell tenements. Clotheslines strung from building to building, less reputable looking ponies weaved sullenly between side streets, and the air reeked of trash and filth (not surprising considering the street was covered with trash and filth). In the blink of an eye, the glorious city of Canterlot transformed itself into a slum like neighborhood.
But Hayseed didn’t care. He was still entranced by the novelty of the urban environment, so he failed to notice the shift in his surroundings.
He soon found himself standing in front of an especially dilapidated looking structure: 7167 Bellgrave St. The apartment building was made out of brick and was covered with a coat of old, chipped paint. More than half of the windows were broken or cracked, and the base of the structure was surrounded by dumpsters and litter. The pungent odor of the street seemed to be more potent there.
Hayseed marched through the door, passed an emerald pegasus who was smoking a pipe and shooting him a mean look, and climbed the stairs.
Apartment 313.
Hayseed knocked on the door and waited.
No one answered.
Hayseed knocked again, this time more forcefully, and elicited a response: “Go away! No one is home,” cried out a slightly high-pitched voice with a thick Stalliongrad accent.
Well shoot, thought Hayseed. If no one’s home, what am ah gonna do now?
Hayseed decided to knock one more time, just to be sure. Who knows, maybe his cousin was in the bathroom and couldn’t hear the knocks? With this in mind, the turnip farmer knocked a third time.
“I told you I’d get you the money Ace, I swear! Just give me another week!” called out the voice again.
“Uh…cousin,” said Hayseed uncertainly. “It’s me, yer cousin Hayseed.” He waited a second or two before he could hear the sound of multiple locks being unlocked and bolts being unbolted from the other side of the door. The door slid open to reveal a chubby, charcoal colored unicorn with a black mane and hazel eyes. The unicorn’s mane was slicked black with some sort of gel, and his muzzle was adorned with a thin goatee and pencil moustache. The pony’s cutie-mark was a large metal spike and sledgehammer crisscrossing.
When the unicorn saw who was at his front door, his eyes widened. “HAYSEED! MY COUSIN!!!” He shot forward and embraced Hayseed in a crushing hug (although it was nowhere near as strong as Hayseed’s mother’s embraces. Seriously, those could be deployed as weapons).
“Oh, Hayseed! I am so happy to see you. It’s been so long,” exclaimed the charcoal stallion.
“Heh, good to see ya, too, Rail Spike.”
“Come in, come in, cousin. We have much to talk about.” Rail Spike ushered Hayseed into his home before glancing nervously at the hallway from side to side and closing the door. “Welcome to my bachelor pad, cousin.”
Hayseed examined the apartment he was in. The wallpaper was peeling or entirely absent. The walls themselves were covered with posters of mares in bikinis or Royal Equestrian Air Force pin ups featuring Spitfire in saucy poses. The floor was covered with old magazines and paper plates. The floor was carpeted, but the carpet was stained and riddled with crumbs. The room itself was very dark, only illuminated by a couple of light bulbs hanging precariously from the ceiling by bare wire. In the center of the room was a messy fold-out bed that looked like it hadn’t been made since Luna’s banishment, and a dirty brown couch that rested next to it. At the foot of the bed was a dresser with an old radio resting on top.
The room had a window (which was remarkably undamaged) that featured a magnificent view of a brick wall belonging to the adjacent building. Finally, just to drive the point of the apartment’s condition home, a cockroach and a rat both scurried next to Hayseed’s hooves and into the wall (which, incidentally, housed both a colony of insects and a colony of rats. Both these colonies had warred often and viciously for dominion of the apartment before the Treaty of Rail Spike’s Apartment of 874 A.B created a long lasting peace between both parties).
Hayseed stared silently at his new home. “Cousin, this apartment is…it’s…it’s AWESOME!”
“I know right! Come, come, let me show you around.”
5.67 seconds later, Rail Spike finished showing Hayseed around. “…and that’s everything.”
“So this is all yours?” asked Hayseed in amazement.
“No cousin, this is all ours.”
“Wow…”
“Yes, life is good. Come, let me show you something,” said Rail Spike as he motioned towards his dresser. The unicorn opened the drawer and rummaged through his clothes for a few moments before levitating out a photo. In it was an orange mare with a red mane who was staring seductively at the camera.
“This is my sweetheart, Tuliphaze,” said Rail Spike with a dreamy look.
“She sure is pretty, cuz,” said Hayseed, nudging his cousin playfully.
“Yeah…”
“So are ya’ll engaged yet?”
At this, Rail Spike sputtered uncontrollably. “What!? Oh no no no no Hayseed. I like Tulip, but I can’t marry her.”
“Why not?”
“Hayseed, I’m not a one mare colt. You can’t tie this stallion down; it would be a crime to mares everywhere! Understand?”
“Uh…I guess?” said Hayseed, not understanding at all.
“Good. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I do like her.” Rail Spike sighed as he stared at his lover’s photo. “Really like her,” he muttered under his breath with a goofy grin. He blinked and seemed to snap out of his trance. “But I can’t marry her.”
Rail Spike yawned loudly as he put the photo away. “You must be tired after such a long journey, yes?”
“Ah am pretty pooped,” said Hayseed with a yawn of his own.
“Well, we better rest. We have a long day tomorrow what with your new job and everything.”
Hayseed’s eyes widened. “You got me a job?”
“Of course cousin. You think I’d let you run around here looking for one on your own? You’ll be working with me. We’ll be-” Rail Spike was cut off by another yawn. “Ah, I’ll tell you tomorrow. Come let us go to sleep.”
Both colts settled themselves on their beds, Rail Spike on the mattress and Hayseed on the lumpy couch. The beige stallion closed his eyes and prepared to rest, but sleep eluded him. Troubling thoughts swirled in his mind.
“Hey Rail Spike, you awake?”
“No, I’m asleep,” replied his cousin jokingly.
“Oh, okay. Ah won’t bother you then.”
“I was joking, cousin,” laughed Rail Spike. “What is it?”
“Do… do you think ah’ll do okay here?”
Rail Spike paused. “What do you mean?”
Hayseed stared at the ceiling, trying to think of the best way to articulate his thoughts. “It’s just that…in Ponyville everythang was familiar, ya know? Ah mean sure, me and ma weren’t rich like ya, but we were always with friends and family. Here ah…ah just don’t wanna screw up, ya know? And don’t wanna go back home because ah couldn’t make it in the big city.”
Silence reigned across the room as Hayseed waited for a response from his cousin.
“Let me tell you a story cousin,” said Rail Spike finally. “A few years ago, I was working on the great rails of Stalliongrad. I was happy, my grandmother was happy; everyone in the city was doing fine. Then the rail company went bankrupt, and everyone lost their job. I couldn’t find job, no one needed somepony to hammer spikes. Soon we went hungry, and that’s when I decided to come here. At first I was nervous like you, but soon, with the help of my brain and good looks, I got a job and this apartment. Hayseed, this is Canterlot. Anyone can make it here. This is the city where dreams are made.”
“Ya really think so ,cuz?” But Rail Spike was already asleep by then, so all Hayseed got in response was a loud snore. Hayseed grinned and rolled on his side. Closing his eyes, he took a deep, relaxing breath.
The city where dreams are made…