//------------------------------//
// 9. The King of Pheasants 
// Story: The Delightful Dragon of Ep 
// by Laichonious the Grey 
//------------------------------//





“Wait, please! Stop running for just a moment!” Smartypants called after the little bird. She knew he was a bird of some kind; Rarity had taught her that most animals with wings and feathers were birds. “I just need to ask you a favor!” She ran behind the first bird, the one that spoke, and next to the long line of smaller birds. They moved their little feet so fast that she could hardly see them. As they ran, they chanted a little march in wordless syllables, keeping time one with another. They ran so close together and followed the trail of the purple one so exactly that they almost looked like a very long, very strange snake.
        “What, what?!” the lead bird said indignantly, not slowing a step in his march. “No favors to be given this day, interloper! There's a war that needs to be done! Good day!”
        “No! You don't understand! I really need your help, my friends are trapped but I can't leave them alone to find somepony to help them!” Smartypants finally caught up to the purple bird.
        “Have you any idea to whom you are addressing your drivel?!” indignantly proclaimed the bird with golden feathers on his head. “I am the King of Pheasants and you are inconveniencing my war!” He turned to shout behind him. “Men! See to this interloper, make sure she doesn't interfere further!”
A group of the smaller birds saluted with their little wings and broke off from the line, surrounding the hapless scarecrow.
“What's a war?” She couldn't help but ask.
The King slowed his march and finally stopped. The look of consternation he gave her would have made you think she told him the sky was red. “What is the meaning of this? Do you mean to say you know not what a war is?”
Smartypants shook her head.
The little bird-king ruffled his feathers. “A war is a thing that must be fought when another nation makes offence,” he said haughtily. “In all my days I have never met a pony who did not know this.”
“Oh,” said Smartypants, feeling somewhat embarrassed, “well, you see, I'm not a pony. I'm a scarecrow.”
The King shook his head and rubbed at his eyes with his purple wings. “Ah, so you are! How strange it is that you can speak, most do not, you know. Hmmm, but you can also move, ahh, this could be quite useful,” he mumbled to himself. He regarded her again, a shrewd look in his eye. “Tell me, scarecrow, what ails your friends. I shall hear of your plight, and in return for my help, you must do something for me.”
“Oh, thank you! Yes, I'll do anything you ask, if you can help my friends.”
“I shall do my best.”
“Okay, we were running through the field over there,” she pointed back to the other hill where Lumberjack's silvery form could still be seen, “and then all of a sudden, my friends Rarity and Argie got really tired and they fell asleep. It was very strange. Then my friend, Lumberjack, you can see her standing there, she said there was something wrong about the flowers and then her springs got all used up and she couldn't move anymore. I tried to wind her back up but I wasn't strong enough and I thought it was terrible. Oh, you have to help me wake them up. If they don't wake up, then they can't eat food and if they don't eat food they'll die!” The whole story spilled out of her in a rush that left the Pheasant King swaying where he stood.
He thought the matter over for a few moments, then called a few of his followers to him. They conversed in low voices too small for Smartypants to hear.
While they conversed, Smartypants anxiously danced from hoof to hoof where she stood, keeping a close watch on the hilltop just in case anything threatened her friends.
“Ahem,” coughed the King, “after conversing with my generals, I have decided that we can aid you. But before we can, you must help us first.”
“But I can't leave them! What if something scary comes and tries to hurt them?”
“Do not worry for your friends, they are quite safe. But we haven't much time if we are to help them. You see, we are marching to war with the Crows, a nasty flock that works for the Terrors from the west.”
“The Terrors?”
The King nodded sagely. “Yes, three Witches of mysterious power and black hearts. They have been here, causing all sorts of trouble. The Crows have taken our only nesting grounds, even though they don't need them. My spies tell me they did this on orders of the Witches, claiming that the place was payment for their work. We believe it may have been the Witches that have cursed your friends. If you help us scare the crows from our nests, we can help you save your friends. We shall deal those dreadful Witches two mighty blows at once and thwart whatever plans they may have had. What say you?” He held out one of his wings as if to shake her hoof.
Smartypants couldn't see any other way to help her friends, so she extended her hoof and shook on the deal.
“Excellent! Follow, scarecrow! To war!” declared the King of Pheasants, resuming his march, post haste.
The pheasant nests weren’t far away, especially at the speed the King’s army was going. Smartypants followed the King over several hills until they came to a copse of birch. Just before reaching it, they turned westward and gathered on the side of a small hill so that they were hidden from the little stand of trees. 
Smartypants scrutinized the skinny birches, turning her head to the side. “This doesn’t look any different from the other trees,” she said flatly.
“Well, that is the point of it,” said the King with a flap of wings. “It is much easier to protect something your enemies cannot find.”
“So you have a lot of enemies?”
The King flapped his wings in front of his face. “Neither here nor there, my dear girl. Now to the task of the hour. General Bimbly, I liked your idea, let us have another hear.”
One of the other pheasants, this one with brown and gold feathers and a green neck, came forward and bowed, extending one wing to the side. “Thank you, your majesty. Ahem,” he said in a low voice. “We shall remain hidden on this side of the hill whilst his majesty advances boldly to the crest and taunts the crows most fiercely. And when the crows are sufficiently incensed—for they shall be—you, scarecrow, will jump forth. This should give them such a fright, going from rage to fear so quickly that they will panic and take wing. With any luck, they will remember this day and never return.” He finished his speech and bowed again, stepping back with the other generals of the King’s army.
“You see, simple,” the King said, turning back to Smartypants. “Now remember, you must stay hidden until the right time.”
“How will I know?”
In response the King turned to another pheasant standing next to Bimbly. “General Sidney, are our scouts in place?”
The one called Sidney nodded and gave a shallow bow. “Yes, your majesty.”
“Good,” said the king. “While I taunt the crows, our scouts will be watching for the time when all of them are focused on me. We must have them looking this way when you jump out so they all are frightened. Sidney with tell you when to jump.” He turned, regarding his army and Smartypants with supreme confidence and a smug grin on his face. “Yes this will definitely work. Are you ready, my dear?”
“Umhum,” Smartypants replied.
The King gave her a look, but turned to the crest of the hill and quickly ran to the summit. “I say! Wake up, you boneless buzzards!” he shouted as loud as pheasantly possible. “Come out of your stolen citadel, you mangy wastrels!”
“Oi!” came a harsh call from the trees. “‘Oo, are you callin’ buzzard, caw?”
“What is this? Too afraid to show your putrid faces? Are crows only brave when Witches tell them to be?”
Smartypants lowered her head to Bimbly. “Does he always talk so much?”
The general turned to her with a smile. “Do you always ask so many questions?”
“Well, yes.”
“Then yes,” Bimbly said, winking at her.
“Run along” sneered the voice from the trees, “it’s what you’re best at isn’ it, caw?!” a few more caws and cackles drifted from the trees.
“What would I run from?” the King demanded haughtily. “A few puny birds who play pets to ponies?”
“Wha’ do you know offit, caw?”
“I know you are too chicken to face me!”
“I’ve had jus’ ‘bout enough of you, caw!”
“Is that so, you slimy simpering windbag? Face me!”
“Now!” shouted Sidney.
Smartypants sprang forward just as a large crow came swooping down from the birch copse. He gave a low caw and flailed his wings, faltering in mid air. “IT MOVES!” he bellowed, frantically beating his wings. The trees exploded in black feathers and noise “Heaven help us!” some cawed, “Doomed, doomed! It moves!” others chanted. They scrambled to leave the stand of trees, running into each other and losing feathers that drifted in the currents of their frenzied retreat. It all took a matter of seconds before the crows were but a dark smudge in the distance.
“Haha! Off with you, carrion crows!” The King shouted after them, putting a wing up to his beak. He turned back to his assembled army and puffing out his chest he exclaimed, “Lads, the day is ours!”
The other pheasants erupted in a cacophony of calls going kok, kok, kok, koooo jumping in the air and flapping their wings. Smartypants laughed at the spectacle and clapped her hooves together. The celebration went on for a time, then the King spread his wings, waving for silence. The flock of happy birds quieted down, fixing their beady eyes on the King. 
“This is a great day for us, but we could not have reclaimed our nests without the aid of our friend, the scarecrow. As she has helped us, so shall we help her. This task will be difficult, it will be dangerous, for we pit ourselves yet again against the wiles of the Terrible Terrors. But, will we cower before the magic of wicked Witches?!”
“Never!” the flock shouted back.
“Then follow! These Terrors shall know and respect, nay, fear, the Pheasants!”
The pheasants began again their strange call, lining up to follow the King who sped off down the hill with his generals in tow. Smartypants ran after him, wondering why they didn't fly. It didn't matter, however, for they were one hilltop away from the still forms of her friends in no time at all. The King called for a halt, then huddled with his generals yet again, but this time he gestured to Smartypants to join them. The scarecrow obliged, uncertain of what he thought she could add.
“Very well,” he said in a low voice, "what do we know of this magic? Scarecrow, tell us how they fell into this spell.”
“Well, like I said before, we were running through the field, happy to finally get to the city when all of sudden, Argie and Rarity got really tired and fell asleep.”
“Um, this 'Argie'...” said one of the generals, “which one one your friends is it?”
“Oh, she's the gryphon.”
“A gryphon?!” exclaimed another pheasant general. “Sire, if we wake up this gryphon, surely she will eat us all!”
“Oh, no, no, no,” interjected Smartypants, “she won't do that, she's a coward. Said so herself.”
“I don't—” the general tried to begin.
“We made a promise, General Nimbly, and we shall keep it,” interrupted General Bimbly. “If she says this gryphon is a coward and she will not eat us, then I believe her.”
General Nimbly shrugged but let the matter go.
“And the metal one, what ails her?” asked the general from before. 
“Um, I don't really understand. Rarity said she's like a clock, she ticks and she tocks and she talks and she kicks. She has springs that let her move but I'm not strong enough to wind them up.”
The general who asked shrugged. “Fair enough.”
“Hmm, this is quite the puzzle,” mused the King. He looked at Smartypants. “Tell us about the one called Rarity.”
The scarecrow thought for a moment. “Rarity is my friend. She found me while on the road and has taught me a lot. She fell from the sky in a house and a defeated the Wicked Witch of the East. She can do magic and is very kind. I would be very sad if anything happened to her.”
General Bimbly stared at her. “Did you say... she fell from the sky in a house?”
Smartypants nodded. “Um-hm, odd isn’t it?”
“Odd?” replied General Nimbly, giving his head a quick shake. “It’s brilliant.”
“So if I am to understand correctly,” the King said slowly, apparently ignoring everyone else, “your friend, Rarity, is the White Witch?”
“Yes,” the scarecrow said slowly. “That’s strange, Argie said the same thing. How come you know who she is before she gets here?”
The King chuckled. “Word travels faster than any creature, my dear. What she did might just be the single most important thing to have happened since the Dragon himself returned.”
“Returned? You mean he came back? Where did he go? I thought he was always here.”
“Not important, I’m afraid, my dear. Now we truly must help your friend if there is to be any hope for us. What do you think, Quimby? You have always had a mind for magic,” the King said to the General who had asked all the questions.
“Hm, well,” General Quimby said, beginning to pace. Four steps one way, then four steps back in a little circle. “From what the scarecrow says, I think it is possible, my lord, that the Terrible Terrors used their strange powers to augment the scent of the lilies. Would you agree, scarecrow.”
Smartypants shook her head slightly. “I don’t know what half of the words you said mean,” she replied, abashed. “I don’t know very much...”
“Oh, well, in other words, these are called Lackadaisical Lilies. They have a sweet scent  that, to those unused to it such as us, can cause you to become sleepy. Most of the time it is only temporary and not ever enough to make someone sleep. The ponies from the city used to enjoy coming to the field to relax, but now fear of the Wicked Witches keeps them behind their gleaming walls. Now, because you and the metal pony don’t need to breathe, you were not affected. All we need to do is get them out of the lilies and your friends will wake up, for if they can no longer breathe in the scent of the flowers, the spell will be broken. Or at least, I hope.” The pheasant stopped, right where he started pacing, gave a quick bow, then stepped back join the others.
“Excellent, Quimby, excellent,” the King said jovially. “Any ideas on how to go about moving them?”
The pheasants were quiet for a few moments, each moment seeming to last far too long for Smartypants. She looked out at the other hilltop, wondering how much time they had to save them.
“Perhaps,” Sidney suddenly blurted out, “we can wake up the gryphon, and she could fly up above the flowers and carry the White Witch with her. Then she can use her magic to wind up the metal pony.”
Smartypants scrunched up her face. “I don’t think that will work.”
“Why not?” asked Bimbly.
“Well, Argie can fly but she can’t carry Rarity.”
“Hm,” said Quimby stroking his chin with a wing, “I believe she is right. From what I can see from here, the gryphon is a rather scrawny one.”
“Well, we certainly cannot carry either of them,” said Nimbly.
“Indeed we cannot,” agreed Quimby. “But perhaps the enchantment only ecncompases that particular hill. Together, we might be able to carry one of them from the hill, far enough away from the flower’s scent to rouse them.”
“Ah, I see what you are saying, Quimby,” the King said, nodding his head. “Smartypants, which of your friends are most important, do you think?”
“Most important?” the scarecrow repeated doubtfully. “They’re all important to me.”
“Well of course, my dear,” the King replied bowing his head a little. “I suppose I should rephrase that. Which of them do you think will be the best to wake up first.”
“Oh,” Smartypants tried to reason it through, sticking out her cloth tongue to one side. “I guess... Rarity would be best. She’ll know what to do.”
“Very well, it’s settled then,” the King declared. “Nimbly, Bimbly I want you to organize the carriage of Rarity. We shall move her to the next hill over, towards the city. Sidney, Quimby, you will take those not required for the carriage and keep watch for the Terrors, though I doubt they would dare show their faces this close to Ep’s citadel.”
“Yes, Sire,” the generals said together and bowed. Each pair sped off to the waiting pheasants, calling out orders and names.
Soon the hilltop was alive with activity as pheasants ran off to designated lookouts and gathered in the little valley between the two hills. Smartypants stood next to the King, watching his army organize itself. Or rather, she tried to stand next to him. She bounced anxiously from hoof to hoof. 
“Um,” she said, glancing from all of the activity to the King and back, “is there anything I can do to help?”
“No, no,” the King said with a smile. “Relax, my dear. Your friends are fortunate in having a friend in you, as am I. They are in capable wings,” The King assured her as a small mob of pheasants shuffled over to Rarity’s sleeping form.
The birds milled about for a moment or two, trying to decide how best to attempt their feat. Nimbly and Bimbly were quite the pair though, for they quickly organized their pheasants into an orderly team. They started by circling the white unicorn and lifting her limbs, this made way for others to crowd in and start lifting the rest of her. They held her up for the next group to move in, then worked their way underneath the sleeping pony until she rested on a living mattress of fowl. Nimbly stood behind the group while Bimbly stayed in the front. The two generals called out left and right respectively and in an alternating pattern, coordinating the movements of their group so as not to have them stumble. It was a slow and laborious process but they made remarkable progress in a very short amount of time. Going up the next hill was a nerve-wracking spectacle, but after careful effort, the pheasants deposited the unconscious unicorn on the hilltop. 
Smartypants rushed over, tripping only once, and knelt at Rarity’s head. “Rarity?” she asked quietly, tapping the other mare on the shoulder. “Rarity, can you hear me?” The scarecrow shook the unicorn’s shoulder a little more vigorously. She tried to think of something that would get her attention. “Rarity... you, um, fell in a puddle of mud, and... there’s dirt all over you!” she finished loudly into Rarity’s ear.
The fashionista’s eyes shot open and she lifted from the ground as if she had wings, releasing a shrill cry of the utmost horror. “EEEEEE! No! Not my beautiful coat! Get it off! Get it off!!!”
The pheasants cleared the hilltop in a babbling chorus of startled calls.
Rarity checked herself over quickly, and not finding any mud to speak of, turned her bleary eyes to the other occupants of the hill. She blinked at the assembled pheasants, who blinked back at her. “Oh... hello,” she said sheepishly.
Before she had a chance to say anything else, Smartypants had wrapped herself around the white unicorn’s neck. “Oh thank goodness you woke up!” she exclaimed, rocking side to side. “I was so worried! I had no idea what to do! Oh but you’re awake and that means you won’t starve to death, which is really good, because I would be really sad if that happened to you.” She snuggled into Rarity even tighter.
The white unicorn laughed, then swayed, and resolved not to laugh for a while. “That’s wonderful, darling,” she said once the hill stopped spinning. “I would be rather sad if that happened too, I’m sure. Now, can you let go of me dear, and tell me what happened?”
“Oh, yes,” the scarecrow said, releasing Rarity and flopping to the ground. “Well, you were running through the flowers and so was Argie, and then all of a sudden you got really tired and you fell asleep. Lumberjack was about to pick you up when her springs ran out of spring, so I tried to wind her up, like you did, but I wasn't strong enough to do it. At first I was going to try and get to the City by myself to get help, but then I thought that if something happened, there would be nopony to help you, so I stayed with you, but then I saw the pheasants run by and I asked them for help. I helped the pheasants get their nests back and then the King, who is very nice, came here to help you, so they picked you up and carried you over here because Quimby, who is very smart, thought that there was some sort of spell on the flowers, called lackaldalies... lili-fillies... lackadaisies... a long word, and they made you tired so you fell asleep, but they’re used to it so they didn’t fall asleep, which was very brave of them, and then I tried to wake you up so I told you you fell in some mud.” The entire speech fell out of the scarecrow’s mouth in a torrent. All the while, she gestured with her hooves, nearly falling on several occasions. Once she was finished, she stood beaming at Rarity, patiently waiting for her to solve the rest of their problem.
The white pony took a few moments to sort through the rapid events relayed by her enthusiastic friend. “All right,” she said slowly, “now what?”
“Ahem,” the King politely interrupted. “We were hoping that this was where you would come in, Miss Rarity.” The regal bird stepped forward and bowed to her. “I am the King of the Pheasants and am most pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“Oh, why thank you, your highness. The pleasure is all mine,” Rarity returned generously. “So, what is the plan, your majesty?”
“Oh no plan of mine, Great Rarity. But it appears that our dear friend here has left out a parcel of information you should know about. Quimby, would you be so kind as to inform the White Witch about our mutual foes?”
“Oh yes, of course, your majesty,” Quimby scrambled forward and gave Rarity a hasty bow. “Much obliged, Great Rarity. Ahem, well, it is my understanding that the Three Terrible Terrors are being especially active. The Terrors are three young Witches who rule over the West, under the tutelage of the Wicked Witch of the East, I have heard. In any case, they put a spell on that particular patch of lilies to make them extra potent. Normally the Lackadaisical Lilies do little more than make one very relaxed and in some cases light headed and a tad tipsy, but I digress.” The little bird cleared his throat again and shuffled his wings self-consciously. “I believe you can break their spell and release your gryphon friend from it.” The general bowed again and stepped back.
"Oh, well I suppose I could do that..." the fashionista said airily, trying to focus on the other hill. She could tell that there was something different about that patch of flowers. A tendril of clumsy telekinesis fiddled with a few of them but there was little she could actually do. “Hm, I wish I knew more spells...” she mumbled. Eventually, she gave up trying to undo the spell and resolved instead to pick up Argie in a cloud of azure magic. A soft chorus of “ooo”s drifted from the pheasants as the gryphon rose from the ground and floated over to the other hill. Rarity strained under the gryphon’s weight, which wasn’t too terribly much but it was definitely more than what she was used to. She tried to keep Argie close to the ground, just in case she dropped her, so when she finally got the gryphon to the other hilltop it was only a soft thump. 
The jarring movement woke her immediately. “Huh-Wah!?” Argie sprang to her feet and spun in a quick circle that she instantly regretted. sitting heavily and with a claw to her head, the gryphon squinted at the hilltop. “What... happened? What are those?”
She had scarcely finished her questions when she was tackled by an overjoyed Smartypants. “Ooooo! I’m glad you’re awake, Argie!”
“Huh... yeah,” mumbled the groggie gryphon, “me too.”
“Well, I must say that was impressive,” muttered Sidney to his fellow generals, who nodded in agreement.
“Pheasants,” Argie said flatly around the scarecrow’s full-body hug, “plegh.”
With a soft sigh, Rarity sent another tendril of magic over to the crank that still protruded from Lumberjack’s shoulder. She wound the spring and then the next as quickly as she could and closed her eyes against the slow turning of the hill. “Is there somewhere around here that doesn’t have flowers?” she asked, putting a hoof to her head.
Lumberjack looked around. “Oh, dagnab-it! There’s gotta be something wrong with my springs,” the tin mare said as she joined the others. “You all right there?”
“Oh yes, fine, darling,” Rarity replied, tucking a few stray strands of her mane away. She turned to the King and gave him a small curtsy. “Thank you, your majesty. I don’t know what we could have done to get out of that mess without you and your... pheasants.”
“Oh ‘twas no trouble at all my Lady Rarity. Besides it was your friend the scarecrow who advised us and aided my nation greatly, we should be thanking you, my dear.” He bowed again, the other pheasants following his lead.
The flowers made her head feel fuzzy, but a thought skittered across the surface. “My, my, Smartypants. You’re rather good at this adventuring thing aren’t you?”
Smartypants shrugged her shoulders. “I like helping my friends,” she said simply.
Rarity smiled as she and her friends left the hilltop in search of the road. It was strange to see Smartypants progress so quickly, but she was more than happy for her. Her smile dampened slightly; why did she feel so overshadowed?









High in a lone elm tree, three fillies glared at the group that left the hilltop.
“How did that happen?” Shoots asked, throwing her hoof out in front of her.
“That stupid scarecrow is too lucky for her own good,” grumbled Boots.
“Now what?” Sparks said to the leaves above. “We can’t do anything this close to the city! Ep would see us for sure, and then we would be in big trouble.” the other two fillies nodded in agreement.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” said a knot on the trunk.
The three little Witches jumped at the sound. “Holy cow, Auntie!” Shoots exclaimed, hovering above the branch with her little wings, her hooves extended at the talking knot. “You just about gave us a heart atta—?” 
Into her hooves from higher in the tree, fell a broomstick that Boots instantly recognized as being the one that collected dust in her closet. It was a rather impressive collection, to be honest, and she was astonished that Auntie managed to separate the broom from it.
“Good catch, Shoots,” snickered the knot. “The game’s not over yet. Have fun, I know you’ll come up with something good to do with that.”
The three stared at the broomstick in Shoots’ hooves for a moment. 
Sparks shrugged, “I got nothin’”
“Me neither,” mumbled Boots.
“What’re you smiling at, Shoots?” Sparks asked, raising an eyebrow at the orange Steeple.
“Hehe, I’ve got an idea...”