What more about Manehattan could be said that hadn’t already been spoken of already?
To say that it was magnificent was an understatement; with its tall skyscrapers that reached up beyond the clouds, to its bustling streets, filled with the voices of rushing ponies, it seemed that a god had touched down upon land and bestowed an ingenious design of a modern city in his place.
Even Prose, with all his pessimism and distrust of Manehattan, could still appreciate its splendor.
The train rolled into the station of the city with a sharp hiss. The doors slid open, and the passengers began to disembark, carrying with them various copies of signed books. Prose’s quill remained sharp even after all the signing; but his inkwell was in dire need of refilling. His hooves were tired, and his neck hurt from craning down all the time just to sign. If he had to see his name one more time, he wasn’t certain if he would sigh or scream.
Nevertheless, after some ushering from Rarity, he got up, and led them all out of the train. From what he had overheard while signing, neither Rarity nor Sweetie Belle had been to Manehattan yet. They had excitedly discussed all that they could see, and had pestered Prose to reveal its amazing details.
He had responded with simply telling them to “see for themselves.”
Glaring sunlight blinded him for a second as he stepped off, and put on his hood in response, still wishing to remain somewhat anonymous. Rarity and Sweetie both raised their hooves as they adjusted to the sudden light. They could hear the voices of city ponies everywhere, all going about their business. Carriages run through the streets at breakneck speed, neither slowing nor stopping unless at a stop light. Electric ads, large and noisy, blared on wide, flat-screen TVs on several buildings, talking about various products that a pony could never hope to ever need. The smell of vendor food wafted through their noses.
As their eyes adjusted, the unicorns gasped at the massive skyline, and Prose couldn’t help but chuckle. As a resident Manehattanite, he couldn’t say the city offered the same awe; but he understood the sentiment. He noted that the skyscrapers had been slightly altered; a year ago, they were mostly flat capped, but now they were more pyramid-structure at the tops. A few radio antennas pointed out of the roofs, and a larger radio tower stood over the city, the satellite seemingly as large as the sun.
The unicorns’ eyes trailed down the roofs and onto the various windows. Inside they could see ponies at work in offices, crowded around documents and typewriters. They worked diligently, only getting up when they needed to retrieve something.
Prose never liked office jobs.
They could see what the typical officer worker wore; grey suits with red ties, manes short so as not to distract from progress. Rarity let out a few oohs as she observed the fancy clothing that some of the ponies wore.
“Why don’t you have a typewriter, Opa?” Sweetie asked.
He chuckled, sheepish. “I wanted one… but things kept getting in the way.”
He walked forward, drawing Rarity out of her trance, and they began walking down the steps of the station. The city’s sounds grew louder as they approached ground level. Ponies behind them rushed forward and past, heading for their destinations in a flurry, rushing, oblivious to others around them. Opacare felt himself get pushed around a few times; he had to ground his hooves so as to not trip over Sweetie Belle, and had to bite back a signature Manehattan curse.
Huh… didn’t think I’d even remember one of those after all this time.
He stepped onto the sidewalk, looking down the street, seeing the residents all bustling around. He released a breath, not realizing he had been holding one. The street light was red, as carriages ran down the street. They waited for the light to change.
A thought struck him, and it perturbed him.
I’m home.
The impact struck him like a cannonball. He reeled, nearly falling on Sweetie Belle and making several nearby ponies mutter out an annoyed insult. He placed a hoof on his head, tugging low on the hood. His eyes glazed over for a moment as he fully processed the thought.
“Opacare?” Rarity whispered, leaning down to him, concerned. “Are you alright?”
He stood, shaking his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m just…” He let out a breath. “I just had an epiphany of sorts.”
Sweetie grabbed his hoof, looking at him worriedly. He nodded to her, signaling that he was better, and she let go.
The light changed to green, and some carriages skidded to a stop. Prose noted that none of the drivers looked at all tired; he was reminded of the determination and drive of the typical Manehattanite. He began to walk, Rarity and her sister behind him. They blended in with the crowd, though Prose caught some odd looks from ponies seeing his cloak. Reaching the other side of the walkway, they held up at a corner, exchanging some looks.
“So… this is where we split up, I suppose,” Opacare said, his voice just barely above the roar of the city.
“Split up?” Rarity asked, frowning. “What do you mean? I thought we were coming with you to Grifford.”
He shook his head. “That’s not in the plan, unfortunately. Besides, you have someplace to be, don’t you?” His intense gaze did not render either of them squeamish.
“We do?” Sweetie asked, genuinely confused.
Rarity coughed. “Oh… that’s right. I remember now.” She turned to Sweetie Belle. “We’d best be off, Sweetie.”
“What? Why?” She pouted. “We should go with Prose! He might need us!”
“It’s just a simple talk,” he tried to reassure her, though he knew that it would be more than that.
“Yeah, but what if there’s guards or something?”
He gained a small smirk. “Remember what I did to Filthy Rich?”
Her protests died there, but her look of uncertainty. He knelt down, resting a hoof on her shoulder. “Listen, Sweetie Belle. Everything is going to be fine, alright?” He smiled gently. “I’m not about to up and vanish on the spot.”
She whimpered. “Promise?”
“Always.”
She hugged him, and he hugged her back, closing his eyes and letting her shake out a silent cry. She wiped her face on his cloak, though the special material prevented it from wettening. It was almost as if there bore no evidence of her pain.
But the evidence lay in his heart, and he wasn’t about to show the scars and wounds. That was the past; this was now.
He broke away from the hug, nodding at Rarity. She nodded back, then trotted over and gave him her own hug. “Be careful, dear,” she whispered.
“I will, ‘honey,” he replied coyly.
She started, and he winked at her, trying to appear at least somewhat calm. Before she could respond, he whisked away, his cloak trailing behind and camouflaging him in the throng of ponies. He was gone before she could even look for him.
Despite her unease, a smile crept on her lips. She hoped things would be all right.
Sweetie’s cheerful attitude returned as they made their way in the city. The sights and sounds were enough to distract her from thinking about Prose’s mission, and for that Rarity was thankful. She found herself also enthralled by Manehattan’s utter splendor.
Without Prose around, that meant that their resident Manehattanite could supply an answer to Sweetie’s questions. Nonetheless, the young filly continued asking them, particularly to Rarity, her voice bubbly and excited. The fashionista, while not familiar with the surroundings, had read about the city in several travel magazines, so she could give a few answers.
“What’s that, Rarity?” Sweetie asked, pointing a hoof out and up. Following her hoof, Rarity saw she was pointing at a large, golden, equine head, poised on a large block of limestone marble. She smiled.
“That, Sweetie Belle, is the legendary Statue of Harmony,” she answered, her mind remembering what she had read.
“The Statue of Harmony?”
“It was a gift from the country of Prance, a thousand years ago. It was to convey our country and their country’s friendship during the Lunar Rebellion.”
“Lunar Rebellion? Oh, that was the time when Princess Luna was still Nightmare Moon, right?”
Rarity nodded. “That is correct. Her war with Celestia had not solely affected Equestria. As she controlled the moon, the entire world could be her plaything. To that end, Prance sent over troops to help with Celestia’s army, and with their help, several major battles were won. Of course, the war ended once Nightmare was banished to the moon.”
“So it’s kind of like a friendship gift?”
“In a way, it is. More than an alliance, Equestria and Prance remain some of the closest friends in our history,” Rarity concluded, finishing her mini lesson.
They walked a bit more, crossing the crosswalk. Sweetie continued asking about the city, and Rarity provided as well as she could. Bridleway was a frequent topic, and Sweetie confessed she had been interested in the theater for some time now.
“It would be kinda cool to see one of the musicals,” she said wistfully.
She failed to catch Rarity’s hidden smile.
They also noticed that there were very few unicorns and pegasi in Manehattan. A majority of the populace consisted of earth mares and stallions. Rarity supposed that any pegasi would be in charge of the weather; the few unicorns, meanwhile, she had no idea of their supposed purpose here.
They headed down Times Square, listening to the sounds of the city engulf all other senses. A place this noisy seemed out of place as the home of the quiet author. It occurred to Rarity that Canterlot, while quieter, still was a busy place. She knew that Prose had left Manehattan because of Finch, but she couldn’t help but wonder if there was something else to it.
Her thoughts abruptly stop when she accidentally bumped into a nearby stallion.
“Hey, watch where you’re going!” he exclaimed, turning on her. He was a pale green, reminding Rarity of one of the ponies back in Ponyville. His mane was a faded yellow, closer to cream.
“Oops, I’m terribly sorry,” she apologized, backing off. She was surprised at the sudden hostility.
The stallion snorted and turned away.
Rarity frowned at the rudeness but, seeing that the stallion did not appear to be in a good mood, she did not pursue the matter any further. “Come along, Sweetie Belle,” she whispered to her sister.
She had a faint guess as to another reason why Opacare chose to leave.
They walked down several streets and sidewalks, thankfully not meeting another rude pony along the way. The city, even after all this walking, remained just as loud as if they were in its center. Most ponies they met appeared nice, offering some form of friendly greeting, which they happily returned. Each ponies’ eyes were vivid and alive, activated and jolly, like they were always constantly on happiness. It reminded the mare of Pinkie Pie, but to a lesser extent; and, thankfully, not at all creepy. Rarity thought that the stallion from before was simply a foreigner; after all, in a city as grand and as amazing as Manehattan, no doubt its citizens would be equally as flattering.
Finally, after some time, they stopped in front of a certain complex.
“Here we are!” Rarity said. Sweetie looked up at the building.
It was a hotel, evidenced by its name: THE GREENWOOD HOTEL. The letters were a bronze-gold color, looking strong and sturdy. Its roof was beyond viewing, too high up it was. Windows shined in the sunlight, like they were made of the shiniest diamonds. The doors were also glass, with rectangular knobs, and they gave a clear viewing of the hotel’s main lobby. A red carpet sprawled out from the door, shaded by a hanging arch made of obsidian marble. From within, they could hear several ponies trotting throughout the hotel. Elevators dinged and opened, while stairs were climbed up and down. Ponies in vests, suits, dresses, and other sharp-looking clothes walked in and out.
“This is where we were headed?” Sweetie asked, incredulous. “It seems too expensive!”
Rarity nodded, smiling. “Well, I wanted to choose someplace special for us to say.”
“But… how much did it cost to book a room?”
“Nothing, actually.”
Sweetie stared at her in shock. “Nothing?!” she squeaked. “How?!”
Rarity’s smile continued to grow. “I had some help from some higher ups. After all, I didn’t want to make this day subpar. Shall we?”
Without letting Sweetie protest further, she trotted forward, pushing the doors open gently. A scuffle of hooves told her that Sweetie followed. Almost immediately, the outside world was greatly deafened; evidently, the walls, windows, and doors had been sealed so that the city was not so loud. Rarity was thankful for that; while she would have gotten used to the noise, she did not want to be always shouting to be heard.
They walked up to the counter, with Rarity informing the pony at the desk who they were. While she didn’t know her personally, the pony nodded in recognition as she went over the files, seeing that a certain “Rarity” had indeed booked a room. She handed over the card, then pointed to the elevators.
“You’re room is on the twenty-fifth floor,” she said. Rarity said her thanks, and she and Sweetie made their way to the elevator. The unicorn mare pressed her hoof on the button; a few seconds later, the doors spread, and they stepped inside. She pressed a button for the twenty-fifth floor, and the doors closed with a ding.
Peaceful elevator music played as they traveled up the building. Jazz and soft rock echoed inside with slight static in between the notes. It was a reflection of this urban lifestyle, one that held the conveniences of a society that had advanced quite a lot in the past decade. Rarity reflected on the music in silence, thinking about how it was a direct mirror to how different Manehattan was from other places she had visited.
She remembered a phrase said in one of her travel magazines. “Manehattan—the City of Dreams.” Her dream was to be an incredible fashion designer, creating outfits for some of Equestria’s most prestigious ponies. And now that she was in Manehattan, now that she was in the City of Dreams, she was taking the next step in fulfilling hers.
In fact, she could have taken the chance and spread her business the moment she arrived in Manehattan. But she put that aside for one reason.
She looked at her sister, who was biting her lip nervously. She smiled. Sweetie was the reason why she had put her current dream on hold. Her younger sister had dreams as well; and what kind of big sister would she be if she did not do her best to help her when she could?
A delay in Rarity’s dreams, therefore, meant nothing, as long as it meant that Sweetie’s dreams were being fulfilled in that delay. Besides, there was always tomorrow, or the day after, to fulfill Rarity’s dream of being a world-class fashion designer. But with Sweetie Belle, she wanted to take every chance she could get.
She wouldn’t admit it, but Sweetie hanging out with Prose, while enjoyable, weighed heavily on Rarity’s mind. She did not worry that the stallion would hurt her sister; he had proved that he had no intention of hurting any one of them when he had said he would not bring them with him on his business. He had not asked even the others for their help in his quest. That told Rarity that Opacare did not want to risk anypony else getting hurt again through his actions.
Of course, that was just a repetition of what Prose had said. And while it was true, Rarity worried what would happen if Prose came back changed. Sweetie absolutely loved Prose, that much she could tell. If, for some unknown reason, Prose returned, different, Rarity wanted to make sure that her sister had another “thing” to fall back on.
It was selfish of her, though; and Rarity knew this. Prose was happy when he was with Sweetie Belle; why would she get in the way of their friendship? But her mind reasoned that Opacare would rather let Sweetie go then let her get hurt by him, no matter how unintentionally he might hurt her. He was simply a stallion who acted in that way. He was selfless, putting the lives of others before him. His experience with the Family and his own parents’ lessons had taught him so.
Perhaps that was another reason why she had grown to appreciate the stallion—even admire. In the past, that cold exterior of his would have made it hard for anypony to believe that he had a heart of gold. But now that she could see who he really was, she had no doubt that he meant well with his intentions and his goals. To that end, she would make sure she was the same in hers.
“Rarity?” Sweetie asked, bringing Rarity out of her thoughtful monologue. “Are you okay? You kinda spaced out there.”
Rarity smiled. “I’m divine, Sweetie Belle. Simply divine.” She nuzzled her sister. “And you should be, too.”
Finally, the doors slid open, revealing to them a rather empty yet wide hall. A solid taupe floor was covered with circular patterns, dancing down the hall, pointing to various doors. A few ovular lights hung suspended on the equally taupe ceiling, eliciting a dim, yellow glow throughout. A sign pointed which way to go for each section of room.
“Which room are we in, Rarity?” Sweetie asked.
She glanced down at the card. “According to this, 221B.” I have a feeling Prose would like that name.
“That’s a funny name for a room. What happened to 221A?”
“I have no idea, Sweetie.”
Rarity led them out, turning to the left and trotting down the hall. Sweetie followed quietly. Their hooves softly padded against the floor, their eyes glancing at each approaching number. They made a turn around a corner, heading down the 220s, shortly arriving at their destination.
221A looked like it hadn’t been opened in years; but 221B appeared to have been recently refurbished. With a tall, oak door, and its digits and letter emblazed in gold, it carried with it a sense of power and intelligence. The knob had yet to be covered in dust; it shone and gleamed, albeit somewhat dully, as its metal was still old.
“Fancy,” Sweetie commented with a whistle.
“Indeed,” Rarity chimed in, smiling. She held out the card and slotted it into the card reader. It dinged and turned green, signaling that it was open. She nodded to herself. “Well, Sweetie Belle, come along. We’d best not keep them waiting.”
“‘They?’”
She didn’t get a response, as Rarity was already opening the door.
There was a loud boom, and something red filled the young filly’s eyes.
