A Rich Everglow Adventure

by RadicalDishonesty

A Rich Island Workday

A terrible clanging came with the morning. Filthy Rich winced and groaned from his place on the floor. Bleary eyed he looked around at the dim light, his eyes already as accustomed as they were going to be. There was another round of clanging, followed by someone barking orders in a language Filthy Rich understood.

From another angle, there was a higher pitched version of the other language that moaned something. There was a brief back and forth, and the clanging resumed.

What was the racket about? Filthy Rich thought. He pulled up his head and looked around bleary eyed in the dim right, taking in the wooden cage he was in, catching a glimpse of a sea pony guard, holding an extra piece of armor with a metal rod to bang around inside of it.

Oh, yeah.

Oh, no.

There was another clanging, closer to the cell this time, followed by more foreign (or, perhaps, native) language barking. Filthy Rich nudged his wife and wrenched himself up off the ground, hearing a few pops in his spine. “I’m up… I’m up.”

Dawn Crest gestured to the Riches sleeping spot, saying something in the language they could not understand. The guard pursed his lips, appeared to make a decision, and said, “Up.”

“I’m getting up,” Spoiled Rich said as she wrenched herself up. “It’s not like a pile of seaweed is a particularly nice bed, you know.”

“Work to-day,” the guard barked in what was now clearly a thick accent. “Up.”

The three slaves in the pen all stood up and had a variety of stretches, while the guard fished out a key, unlocking their pen. “Follow,” he commanded, and started leading them out.

The three of them followed out of the pen. Trotting up closer to Dawn, Filthy Rich whispered. “Why is his equish so much worse than yours?”

“Equish?”

Filthy Rich gave her a look. “The language we’re speaking now?”

“Oh!” she cried out, earning a suspicious cock of the ear from the guard ahead of them, and she lowered her voice to a whisper again. “I thought the land language was called ‘common’. I speak it better because I used to hang out with the ponies that came from the land.” She gestured at the guard in front of her with her eyes. “I’m surprised he speaks it at all.”

Examining his captor, Filthy Rich said, “Do you think we can take him?”

“The three of us?” Dawn Crest raised an eyebrow and smirked. “I bet we could…”

“We should not,” Spoiled Rich butted in, poking her head between the two of them. “We are in a strange compound, miles from any known place, surrounded by guards. We might beat this one guard… and for what? To be recaptured by the other guards? We still even have our chains on.”

Filthy Rich pursed his lips. “Right, right…”

The three of them focused on the guard in front of them, walking forward, apparently oblivious to the conversation his prisoners were having.

Filthy Rich nodded. “Then we watch?”

Spoiled Rich nodded as well. “We watch. And we hope they’re all as dense as this stallion.”

The guard led them through the dim corridors and out into a larger hall, with a large opening from the cave into a cleared field outside, with cut logs, shaped stones and various building materials. Beyond that there were temporary looking huts with a few sea ponies who were garbed in less metal and more rugged practical clothing milling about.

The guard called out to them, and a yellow one trotted over. They carried on a short conversation in the sea pony language. The worker pony looked over the three chained ponies dubiously. The guard said something flippant and Dawn Crest scrunched up her face in a scowl.

Spoiled Rich leaned over to her and whispered. “What are they saying?”

“The worker is complaining we would be more trouble than we are worth,” Dawn hissed.

“Maybe they won’t want to work us…”

Dawn shook her head. “The guard is insisting that he puts us to work anyway.”

The worker pony snorted, but stamped over to the three slaves, and motioned to them. “Follow.” He led them over to a nearby set of logs, and they displayed varying levels of dismay as he fished out several harnesses.

The worker pony bellowed something out and several other workers came around to the set of ponies. As he talked about… something it became obvious this pony was a foreman in the yard as he was clearly directing the action.

Dawn Crest was pulled aside, and several workers approached the Riches. Spoiled Rich scowled and backed up as a worker approached her with a filthy harness. “You must be joking.” The workers shouted at her, and pointed to a patch of ground. Spoiled Rich cringed and shook her head.

Yelling louder, one of the other workers stomped over to the slaves, and reached for Spoiled. Grabbing her, he yanked her roughly on her shoulder.

“Hey!” Filthy Rich reached over, batting the worker’s arm away. Filthy Rich forced himself between Spoiled and the worker. “Do not treat my wife--”

He didn’t get any further, because a hoof came crashing into his jaw. He reeled back, colliding with his wife right behind him, who was also knocked back onto her knees.

Even before he could get up, he was wrenched off of his wife and dragged into the clearing. The worker leaned down up close to Filthy’s face. His breath smelled briny, and he very clearly enunciated several threatening words.

“I-I-I’m sorry,” Filthy stammered. “I can’t--”

He was cut off by a cuff to the face, and a shouted command. The worker began stalking around Filthy Rich, talking alternately to the slaves and to the other workers, gesturing as he circled Filthy. It must have been a very moving speech, because the other workers, who looked nervous, started nodding their heads

Filthy Rich raised his head up to look and see how Spoiled and Dawn were taking it, and was rewarded by a swift kick to his gut. He doubled over in pain, and was vaguely aware of more ranting from the worker.

When he finally managed to peer out, his wife, a fearful instead of scornful expression on her face, was cringing as the filthy harness was strapped to her. She gave a glance to Filthy Rich and pursed her lips, before reluctantly stepping forward when they gestured to her.

He felt a light touch to his shoulder, and looked over to see Dawn Crest. “Come on,” she whispered. “They’re already getting out more harnesses.”

Grunting, he wrenched himself up to a sitting position. He nudged his vaguely sore jaw, which ached a bit from the blow to it. “Right… right… what was his speech about?”

She pursed her lips. “About how the ponies on the land need to be shown their place.”

“Wonderful…” But what about you, he thought. You aren’t a land pony… But he said nothing.

He started standing up as he watched his wife’s harness be hitched up to an empty cart, which a worker pony planted himself on, and ordered a march. She planted her hooves in the ground and started pulling them along, deeper into the island.

A stern shout alerted Dawn and Filthy that they were expected to be strapped in next. Filthy stood himself up, his jaw and gut only dull aches by now, and marched over, holding his head as high as he could. The worker rolled his eyes and roughly strapped another harness on it.

It didn’t fit well. It was loose in some areas, and was uncomfortably tight in others, but Filthy tried to hide his discomfort. It wouldn’t do any good to show them his weakness. He too was hitched up to a cart, which was filled with not one but two ponies, and ordered to pull it further into the island.

---

As expected, the harness pulled in awkward ways. Filthy had to force his shoulders forward because the straps around his barrel and hips barely worked, and if he didn’t the harness would press on his neck. So, shackled so his legs couldn’t move too far apart, and hitched up to a wagon awkwardly, Filthy Rich awkwardly plodded through the wooded area.

A stinging strike came on his back. Filthy Rich cried out, and looked back to find one of the workers had snapped off a pliant branch from one of the surrounding trees, and was holding it in her mouth. She gestured and mumbled something Filthy wouldn’t have been able to understand her words, and had no chance through the switch in her mouth, but the message was clear. Move faster.

Filthy Rich pumped his legs, which was not easy as the ground was soft and loamy, but shortly he was panting with effort, his cheeks red both with effort and with embarrassment about being swatted about with a switch.

He chanced a look forward, hoping that his wife’s cart, smaller than his and only with one passenger, was going better than he was. It looks like the worker in her cart hadn’t had the bright idea to start whipping her, so at least that had some relief. He looked back to find that Dawn was also pulling a cart, but this one had a pony walking beside her.

Because she is not a land pony, Filthy Rich thought. they are going easy on her. He grunted to himself, but redoubled his efforts.

At the work site, at least, they stood around watching the workers as the workers used axes to cut logs. Obviously, they would not be trusted with any bladed instruments, which means, blessedly, there was nothing for them to do and they were unhitched from the carts and allowed to rest.

Filthy Rich edged over to his wife, hoping the workers weren’t in the mood to stop them from talking. “How are you holding up?”

She furrowed her brow. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Filthy Rich chuckled. “Maybe.”

They settled into silence, watching the workers chop the trees and load them up onto the logs. “I notice…” Spoiled Rich gestured to the carts, which Dawn Crest was watching her cart with her back to the couple. “That Dawn’s cart has already been pushed away, even though it is barely loaded.”

“Earlier… the worker who attacked me was apparently ranting about how we land ponies need to ‘know our place’.”

A familiar scowl appeared on Spoiled Rich’s face. “They’re going easy on her.”

Filthy Rich nodded.

She snorted in reply. “I wonder how long they’re going to keep her here with us before letting her go?” She glared daggers into Dawn Crest’s back. “It’s clear she’s not going to be staying here for very long. She’ll be abandoning us to them very shortly.”

Filthy Rich bit his lip. He wanted to defend Dawn Crest, but if she were given the option to leave, there is no reason why she should stay here with the two of them, strangers she barely knew. “I’m not sure…”

There was an order barked from a worker who was stomping over to them, ready to start heading back.

Filthy’s legs and shoulders burned on the way back from the logging area. He drove his hoof into the soft ground, which shifted underhoof as he struggled forward against the soft soil. Any false moves resulted in the harness pressing on his neck, or him getting tangled up in the chains on his forehooves.

His driver didn’t let up, either, swatting his backside whenever he would stumble or stop to adjust his pulling. He swore he could see her sadistic grin, even though he dare not look back for fear of getting yet another swap.

All he could do was struggle against the soil, the cart, and his harness.

The day was filled with work. Cart pulling, with welcome, but boring, periods of rest between them. But when the sun started disappearing below the horizon, the three slaves were led back to their pen.

Filthy Rich flopped down on the leafy patch. It was probably dirty, and so was he, but he relished the opportunity to sit and take a rest. He ached so. And he knew it was going to get worse overnight, and the next day his legs would be burning.

His stomach made a noise, and he was suddenly very aware of his hunger, having only eaten some scraps the workers threw to them from their midday meals. Fortunately… or unfortunately, one of the guards came up with a tray of some kind on his back.

He reached in and placed wooden bowls filled with… some sort of leafy slop, that was only harder to identify in the dim light. It emitted the awful acrid smell of some kind of overripe or overcooked vegetable. Filthy Rich’s stomach and nose warred for dominance, but eventually the biological need of eating won over and he dove his nose into the slop, lapping it up.

It tasted about as bad as it smelled, slightly bitter, salty, but hearty taste. It stuck to the bottom of his belly and filled it up, so he slopped it up messily with his tongue, trying to at least get full.

After about as much as he could stand in one he surveyed his companions, as Spoiled Rich lapped at hers tentatively, screwing up her face in displeasure before she forced more down her throat. Dawn Crest, however, appeared to be eating it at a morose pace, not cringing in the least bit, but looking as dour as anyone here.

As they ate, though, a flickering light came down the hallway to them. Before them stood the Deep Queen, flanked by more highly-ornate guards, looking stern as ever. She marched over straight past the Riches to the part of the cage nearest to Dawn Crest, and she boomed with some kind of command.

Dawn Crest looked up to the queen with a pitiful expression, muttering something quietly.

The Deep Queen leaned over to Dawn, hissing something.

Dawn frowned, but looked up into the Deep Queen’s eyes, not saying anything.

The Queen raised herself back up, her speech softening for the first time Filthy Rich had heard. Dawn continued to not respond, so the Queen continued to say things, and it took Filthy Rich a moment to realize Dawn was being gently lectured by the leader of her civilization.

He imagined what it would be like being lectured by Princess Celestia. Of course, he couldn’t understand what the Deep Queen was saying, but it was probably far less positive than Celestia would be.

Dawn, for her part, was playing the same abashed part he felt like he would be in the face of Celestia very well.

The Deep Queen concluded her speech by presenting what was clearly a fruit to Dawn Crest, who let it drop to the ground next to her, staring at it.

The Deep Queen and her entourage left, and Spoiled Rich inched over to her husband. “You see,” she whispered. “She is probably being told how this is a warning to what would happen to her if she ‘stays the course’ of cavorting with us. Then she was given a gift. It won’t be two or three days until the offer is made to let Dawn out. And she’ll jump on--”

“How old do you think Dawn is, Spoiled?” Filthy mused, interrupting his wife. “I thought she must have been an adult, but do you think she might still be a teenager?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” she hissed.

He gestured over to the sea pony, who was forlornly poking at the fruit she was offered. “She’s just a filly, Spoiled, going through what we’re going through.”

“She,” she hissed, a little too loudly, before lowering her voice. “Is being given a free ride, compared to us, and is going to shortly be leaving us to the mercy of the captors.”

“If you could take on less work, would you? If you had the opportunity to leave?” Filthy Rich said.

Spoiled Rich pursed her lips and looked away.

“It’s not like she has the secret keys to let us free, either, Spoiled.” He laid a hoof on his wife’s shoulder. “She’s not our enemy. The other sea ponies are. Kindness doesn’t cost you anything.”

Spoiled Rich shrugged off his hoof, looking back into his eyes. “If she leaves and joins their civilization again, she will be our enemy. She will be part of them.” With that, she walked away and sat on a nearby seaweed bed, leaving Filthy Rich on his bed alone.

He sighed and pushed the pungent bowl far away from him, laying down.

Across the cell, Dawn Gleam’s ear twitched, after making out the mostly clear words of her currently co-slaves that carried in the still, quiet cave, huffed to herself and laid her head down.

Author's Note:

Alright! It took me a month and two weeks, which is a month longer than I had hoped, but it lives!

But I did, in fact, finish! Onward!

Comments

[badninja]

I just shake my head at Spoiled Rich, she is going to cause a lot of harm if she cannot open her heart and show some kindness. Hopefully she will show some signs of growing a heart soon.

[PatchworkPoltergeist]

:c Aw, Spoiled. Your cynicism and lack of faith in ponies is palpable and honestly kind of sad. She quite literally shrugs off the suggestion that "Kindness doesn’t cost you anything,” which implies to me that she thinks it does. She thinks the worst of pretty much everyone, and I wonder why that is.
Also, Filthy needs a hug. Both Riches need a hug. Preferably, hugging each other.

[No one is home]

I can't help but wonder who Dawn is to rate not only leniency, but also the attention of the queen herself. The Rich's wouldn't realize it, most likely, but unlike Celestia, most rulers don't get all that up close and personal with their subjects...

[MildCard]

The sheer fact that this fic EXISTS is filling me with so much glee. Add to that good writing and characterization and you have made me very happy!

Will you be cutting back to Diamond Tiara in Ponyville every so often or are we sticking with Mr. and Mrs. Rich from here on out?

Looking forward to more!

[B_25]

The previous tension in the Richs' relation can still be felt here, leading to some nice conflict. I enjoy how the two play off each other, hoping that they find some common ground soon and patch up that which has been torn by time and negligence.

The story is starting to get more interesting now, so kudos on that.

Onwards!