Preunification Anon

by Spooples

VI - Back on the Wagon

”Herdwatcher Thistlehoof! Herdwatcher Wheat Graze!”

The two mares swing around at the sound of Sagebrush’s voice, immediately sitting straight and jutting their chins out. Four days ago, the sight of the two earth ponies behind the large wall would’ve boggled you. After all, what good could guards do when behind a tall wall with no way to peer over?

But your time integrating with the Marestrichtians has left you much more educated. As short as it has been.

”Open the petreport for our guests to make their leave!” Sagebrush commands.

There’s a slight moment of hesitation – a brief glance at Anonymous from Wheat Graze and a disappointed huff from Thistlehoof – before the herdwatchers get to work. You can’t help but take a small step toward the human.

There’s that newfound warmth in your chest when you rub up against Anonymous’ leg. It still takes you aback somewhat, feeling as if your blushes have migrated from your face to your heart. But it isn’t terribly uncomfortable, and you’re already starting to become used to it.

Apple Seed mumbles something about petrevoking under his breath at Wheat Graze and Thistlehoofs’ work. This earns him a brief nudge from Max Gusto and a knowing look. The sack on Max’s side swings idly from the impact – the first article of clothing you’ve seen on the pegasus since you’ve met her, and the last you’ll see until you part ways. It briefly bumps into Apple Seed’s own baggage, a grass backpack of sorts, which you’ve seen a few Marestrichtian farmers wear.

As the stone walls are dragged further open, Apricot Ammil sends Max a halfhearted glare. Were it the night before, you’d be sure she would’ve done nothing less than launch herself at the pegasus for touching her brother.

”Were it the night before.” You’ve been thinking that phrase a lot lately. Were it the night before, you wouldn’t be standing so close to Anonymous, feeling equal parts protected and protective of the human. The two new sets of armor Sagebrush had insisted you part with this morning – one set for you, another for Tia – weigh heavily in your intraflated sack, giving you a newfound respect for the strength of the herdwatchers of Marestricht. It’s no Paardian armor, but it’s enough to comfort you with the knowledge that neither you nor Tia would be completely helpless in a scuffle.

The new armor is nothing compared to your newfound resolve, however. Were it the night before, you’d be shaking at the prospect of exiting the first safe haven of your journey. You’d be obsessed with the notion that the only form of currency you have left are those last two bit sacks. But now you remain calm.

In fact, you’re not just calm. No matter how hard you try, you can’t wipe away the fat smile currently occupying your face.

Anonymous has opened up to you last night. Just a tidbit, but it was enough. You realize your feelings for him now. You’re going to help Anonymous, and you’re going to make a deal with him to continue to be your housecarla once you’ve reached Equestria.

As the walls of Marestricht are replaced with a large, dusty gap, you feel your tuft swell with determination.

But as you walk forward, this determination collides with a pain in your chest. Goodbyes were never your strong suit. Tartarus, you never even said goodbye to anypony in the uppercastes before you left.

Just as you’re building yourself up to turn and speak to the ponies at your side, the dust settles enough for you to make something out just a few cubits ahead. You recognize the unicorn’s silhouette through the dust, her brown eyes gleaming through the gaseous dirt with a sort of reserved pride. Smooth Roads’ arrival isn’t what shocks you, though. It’s the structure behind the unicorn that makes your heart skip a beat.

At first, you believe it must be an illusion. A last, cruel vision – the climactic end to a plethora of nightmares and hallucinations you’ve been encountering through this past week.

However, as the dirt and dust settle, and you hear the awestruck gasp of Tia and the surprised “Huh!” from Anonymous, you know that it really is your wagon just behind Smooth Roads.

It isn’t how you last saw it; the wood is significantly darker in color, reflecting the boreal life of the mountainside. There are fewer windows, it lacks the many decorative patterns and nuances, and it’s also missing that mini watchtower you were so proud of. But even if it’s much more rustic than your perceived rendition, the silhouette and the base confirm it: it is, without a doubt, the wagon you’ve drafted a short eternity ago.

”Now, I know what you might be thinking!” Smooth Roads says before you can open your mouth. Now that you get a better look at her, you notice the bags under her eyes and the way her horn fizzles exhaustedly. Her voice seems to drag across the hard ground as she rasps, “And the answer is no. I did not go to the Red Garden to steal it back.”

Smooth Roads sits on her rump to pull the satchel off her side. You don’t know if she’s avoiding using magic out of respect for the present Marestrichtians, or if she really is that magically exhausted. Roads settles the satchel down at her hooves before opening it and pulling out a torn, stained blueprint. A very familiar blueprint.

She must have made copies of your original drawing! You remember how everypony was so impressed with your sketches at Free Valley Carpentry they had gathered and watched you create it. Ancients above, you were impressed with yourself.

Smooth Roads bashfully slides the blueprint back into her bag, still alone in the dirt clearing. You’re on the verge of turning to Anonymous for guidance before you feel four hooves suddenly leap from your back.

“Tia!” you warn, but the little filly pays you no mind.

Tia squeals delightfully as she bounds towards Smooth Roads. Anonymous is immediately in pursuit, but you notice he only walks towards Tia, rather than run. Roads’ eyes widen at the approaching filly, making your heart nervous and your horn tempted to engage. But when the alicorn is mere cubits away from Roads, instead of attacking her or fleeing, Smooth Roads only watches.

”Wucky wagon!” Tia giggles excitedly. “Smoof Woads, Wucky wagon!”

Smooth Roads’ eyes soften, even if she doesn’t lower her guard completely. “Y-yeah,” she says, her voice breaking like a puberty-ridden filly before she clears her throat. “Yeah. I, uh… built y’all a new wagon. How do you like it, squirt?”

Instead of giving a verbal response, Tia approaches Smooth Roads and nuzzles her foreleg, careful not to stab it with her horn. Smooth Roads doesn’t move away from her touch, and you swear you can see the beginning of a smile on her lips, even if her eyes are downturned guiltily.

”Tia?” Anonymous says gently as he nears the filly from behind. Well, as gently as Anonymous can say.

Tia flinches at his voice. The sight of her skittering away from the tall human stabs your heart. It looks like she still hasn’t gotten over how he had snapped at her last night. Tia’s scared expression turns into a defiant frown as she sticks her tongue out at Anonymous, giving him a wide radius before rushing back to you.

Anonymous takes it in stride, only letting out a curt snort. You’re becoming better at reading the human, though.

You should make getting Tia that present a priority once you’re back on the road, and you’ll be making extra sure she knows just who it came from.

”M-mister Anonymous,” Smooth Roads says, her voice much quieter than when she had addressed you. “Me an’ the Marestrichtians fashioned you a new set of armor as well. Well, they did most the work – that’s not really my area of expertise.” She chuckles, but Anonymous seemingly doesn’t react. “It’s waiting for you in the wagon. I’m hoping it’s to your fancy.”

Anonymous turns and starts walking. “Hold on!” Smooth Roads squeaks as she reaches out for him, but her attempt is snuffed out with a glare from Anonymous. The human makes his way to the wagon, not speaking a word to the unicorn. Smooth Roads deflates, her ears lowering to her skull.

Max Gusto suddenly nudges you with a wing. You turn to the pegasus to see her peach eyes boring into your own before turning to Smooth Roads, then back to you. Smooth Roads waits, now wordless, her eyes flicking between you and the ground between her hooves.

Ancients give you strength to not regress to the Lucky Favor before Marestricht.

You approach Smooth Roads, trying for a smile, but not finding the willpower to make it seem genuine. It was hard to wipe the damn thing from your face mere minutes ago, and now you can’t even find it in yourself to give a smirk. You can feel Max behind you, watching attentively but keeping quiet.

”I’m not really one for words,” Smooth Roads begins, tapping her front hooves together. “You’re a lot better with ‘em than I am. I know I’d just have a hard time rightly explaining myself and end up looking like a fool, so… consider this a peace offering.” Roads gestures to the wagon.

Your new wagon. Smooth Roads’ apology, as rustic and dowdy as the mare herself, yet stable. It works.

”It’s lacking in all the fancy stuff you wrote down,” Smooth Roads sighs. “There just wasn’t enough materials or marepower to make an exact copy. The inside is pretty bare, save for a couch and bookshelf for your reading needs. Y’see, the earth pony armorers wanted to help with it as much as they could, but, um… I didn’t deserve it.” Roads’ lifts her head from the ground to give you a level look. Her tired eyes are downtrodden with exhaustion and shame. “So… there.”

The smile on your lips now has no trouble being genuine. “I didn’t see you at the Rejoicement,” you say, giving her a tilt of your head. “This is what you’ve been doing instead of resting?”

”Why in the darkest pits of Tartarus would I deserve rest, Lucky Favor?” Smooth Roads asks, suddenly hardened. “There was a good pony and human I’d wronged. Buck, there’s an entire workshop of ponies I’d wronged. It would’ve been mighty selfish of me to kick back and do nothing when y’all were a wagon down.”

You only nod to that, murmuring a soft, “I see…”

Before enough time passes to make it awkward, though, you feel the familiar tickle of Max’s wing on your back. What makes this time different is that now her wing seems to move back and forth against your fur in a slow, rocking motion. You and Roads both turn to Max to see the pegasus with a sympathetic look on her face so overdone it’s practically making you gag.

“Max Gusto, what are you doing?” you deadpan.

”Well,” the pegasus answers. “You’re taking so long to say ‘yeah, I’m sorry for being a bitch too,’ I thought it needed to be coaxed out of you.”

”Get hilted, Max,” Smooth Roads grunts.

You give the pegasus a swat, and she takes to the air, snickering all the while as she glides over to the wagon. Probably to say her goodbyes to Anonymous, you figure.

Despite everything, you’re going to miss that pegasus.

”You don’t need to say anything,” Roads says quietly, but you stop that with a shake of your head.

“No, Max is right,” you say. “I’d feel our business would be unfinished if we were to part on these terms.”

Smooth Roads mumbles something about fancy words.

“Fancy as I am, Smooth Roads,” you say as you once again find yourself drawn to your wagon. “I’m afraid no words can describe how grateful I am.”

Tia is skipping around the wagon’s exterior in delight, her eyes wondrous and never still. Max Gusto, meanwhile, is opening the door to the wagon. Anonymous and her haven’t interacted much as far as you can tell, but it isn’t unlikely the pegasus has some things she has to say to the human before parting ways. “And…” you chuckle. “Well, I apologize for being such a Lucky Favor after you helped us escape the Red Garden. May the Ancient Lady of Adventure smile upon your travels.”

”I’m not so sure that’s an Ancient,” Smooth Roads says with a crooked smile. The look soon sobers up as she sighs. “I’ve already said my farewells to Apple Seed and Max. I’d also like to make my peace with Anonymous, and…” Roads glances back at the wagon, Max now inside and Tia still inspecting every nook and cranny of the structure. “…Tia. That’s her name, right?”

You nod, eliciting a smile from Smooth Roads. “Right, Tia,” she says, mulling the name in her mouth before giving you her full-fledged attention. “Well, Lucky Favor, I reckon this is goodbye.”

Smooth Roads extends a hoof. You take it, giving the unicorn a few shakes before speaking again. “Where will you go?”

Roads sighs, retrieving her hoof before looking off into the landscape of the forest. Some ways away, you can still see the silhouette of Plumsteed on the horizon. The perpetual rain clouds put there by thieving pegasi loom in the distance like a far-off storm. “I’ll think of somethin’,” Smooth Roads ultimately says. “I might not be fancy with words like you, but I’m not stupid. I’ll definitely think of somethin’. If not to save Free Valley Carpentry, then to at least get the workers out of the shit I’ve put them in.”

”You are always welcome in Marestricht,” Sachemare Sagebrush’s voice commands from behind, reminding you of the three ponies still there.

You turn to the trio of earth ponies. Smooth Roads follows suit and is quick to say, “I appreciate it, ma’am, but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if the Red Garden hurt any of y’all.”

Sagebrush’s face falls, but she only gives an understanding nod. It must’ve struck a chord with Smooth Roads, as the unicorn sighs and rubs the back of her head. “I’ll point any interested workers in this direction,” she mutters, her words immediately putting a grin on Sagebrush’s face. “But I’m not gonna lead the Red Garden here by coming myself, that’s for damn sure.”

It’s Apple Seed who speaks up next. Even if he’s the shortest of the ponies, his voice still rings with the calm, wise cadence of the Sachemare herself. “Marestricht will miss you, my friend.”

Smooth Roads blinks at Apple Seed’s words. Or, perhaps, just that last word. Friend.

Roads suppresses a squee, turning away from the stallion and towards you. She clears her throat seriously, even if her lips twitch into a smile as she speaks. “Send me a prayer or two, Lucky Favor,” she says. “But don’t you dare worry about me. Just worry about yourself, and your band of misfits.” Smooth Roads’ tone suddenly changes to a much lower, almost warning grumble. “And treat ‘im right, fancy filly. Like I didn’t.”

With that, Smooth Roads turns and trots towards the wagon, probably to make her peace with Anonymous. You tilt your head. You call ships him, not wagons…

”Lucky Favor?” Apple Seed grabs your attention.

As the orange stallion approaches you, his sister stays glued to his side. She doesn’t look at you, either because she knows you’re not a threat or because she’s still acting snooty. Or, now that you get a better look at the way her eyes mirror Apple Seed’s, maybe out of shame. There seems to be a lot of that going around.

“It would be a stain on Marestricht’s honor, were we to let you leave emptyhooved,” Apple Seed says, slinging the grass-tied baggage up and off his back. As he sticks a hoof in to grab something, you begin to recede, to tell him that Marestricht has done more than enough, but a well-practiced glare from Sagebrush immediately shuts that down. “I understand you and Brother Anonymous are wanted by the Plumsteed housecarlatel.”

You swallow, even if you try to hide your nervousness. As much as you want to dismiss Sapphire Lily’s words as empty threats, you know it’s just the far-fetched hopes of a naïve uppercastemare. And now, there’s no reason that the Red Garden wouldn’t also be after you.

Apple Seed sees right through your attempts to hide your nervousness, and he smiles warmly. He pulls something out from his baggage – a small, brown sack.

The next sniff you take changes your description. A small, brown, absolutely pungent sack. Curse these earth ponies’ noses! It isn’t fair how they’re so used to this!

“As you know,” Apple Seed continues, trying and failing to hide his amusement from your reaction. “The earth ponies of Marestricht have an… inimical stance on magic. Because of this, larua roots are cheap and high in stock, since they do not have much magicless use.”

“I hope this use outweighs the odor,” you squeak as you put a hoof up to cover your snout.

”It does indeed,” Apple Seed confirms. “The Red Garden used this root, along with a certain spell, to disguise themselves on occasion.” Apricot Ammil takes a tiny step closer to her brother at the mention of the Red Garden. “I am not very well-versed in magic, so I could not tell you exactly what the spell was. But I do know that if you and the larua root are both submerged in a body of water and this spell is cast, your fur will change color. To the opposite hue, if my observations were correct.”

Apple Seed holds the sack to you. You don’t know if the tears in your eyes are from gratitude or the malodourous smell of the larua roots. Regardless, you wipe your face and retrieve the bag, a grin threatening your features.

“What did the spell the Red Garden used sound like?” you ask, trying to ignore the fact that the sack is dampening your forelegs.

Apple Seed tilts his head, but answers nonetheless. He lets loose a susurrating hiss between pursed lips before retracting them, giving a crude but familiar impersonation of the spell’s magical signature: ’fsuuuuwsssss …’

An inner-spread spell. Not one that was required in your caster lessons, but a low level spell to be sure. You’re sure you can find a thome on ambient mass-magic in the next town or marketstead you come across. You could probably also purchase a map of the coastline in the same trip.

”I’m afraid the larua root will not be as useful for Brother Anonymous,” Apple Seed sighs. “A change in color will not do much to disguise the fact he is from such a rare tribe.”

You smile, sniffling away some errant tears of gratitude. “I am dumbfounded,” you whisper. “I cannot thank you enough. For everything.”

”Neither can we.”

It’s barely perceptible, but you hear Apricot Ammil’s quiet admission. She notices how you and Apple Seed both turn to her, and suddenly finds the horizon an interesting focal point.

You giggle but decide to save the earth pony further embarrassment. As you pull the sack towards you, the top of it briefly loosens, giving you a peak – and a full whiff – inside. Whether to continue the conversation with Apple Seed or out of pure curiosity, you ask him, “I apologize for coming off as selfish, dear, but why are there three?”

”The larua roots are best used when individualized,” Apple Seed explains. “At least, that is what I assume, judging from the Red Garden misusing them on occasion. The one you use will be tethered to you once the spell is cast, and will reject anypony else who tries to use it. Therefore, I have given you one larua root for each of your party members, minus Anonymous.”

You were on the verge of mentioning Anonymous until Apple Seed had said that. When he sees the perplexed look on your face, he tilts his head. “Has Max not told you yet?” he asks.

Before you can respond, you hear the sharp cannonshot of your wagon door being flung open. You whip around to see that Max is now skittering out of the wagon; Anonymous’ shouting can briefly be heard from within the wagon – something about how easily he could rip her snowpity off – before she slams the door shut. You’re briefly horrified at what could’ve happened, until she flashes you that bashful grin once again. You recognize the glint of a filly who was on the wrong end of a criminal misunderstanding.

”Jeez, and I thought you were uppity about clothes,” Max snickers as she skips over to you. “He’s acting like he doesn’t even have a Y-7 gland!”

“Max Gusto…” you growl, shaking your head uselessly. “Please tell me you did not do that on purpose.”

”What?!” her voice squeaks like a foal’s toy in defiance. “I’m not some Peeping Tamsin! Of course I didn’t mean to do that to my roomie! What kind of an impression would that make?”

You’re about to reprehend the pegasus again, but you’re taken aback by her choice of words. “Roomie?” you ask.

It clicks moments after the word leaves your mouth. It isn’t in time for you to ask more questions before Max suddenly burst into raucous laughter.

”Alright, never mind!” she howls. “You’re back on top for the Most Clueless Pony I’ve Ever Met Award!”

You huff, narrowing your eyes at Max. She takes a moment to recompose herself before sitting on her haunches and spreading her forelegs out, as if showing off something impressive. “Don’t say you didn’t see this coming, fancy filly!” she crows. “I’m coming with you!”

You blink. “…Please elaborate.”

Max rolls her eyes before they land on Apple Seed in an incredulous expression. There’s that knowing look again, before she turns back to you. “I’m coming with you, you autistic mare. As your cloudpusher.”

“Y--…” you start, before stopping, flabbergasted. You seem to be doing that rather often when Max is involved. “Absolutely not! It’s much too dangerous! And I can’t afford to pay somepony else at the moment!” You expect to have more reasons to deny her, but to your surprise, those are the only two you can think up.

Max is a sky wanderer. She has nowhere else to go. You love the Marestrichtians, but you get the hint that the pegasus would be overstaying her welcome if she had decided to stay long-term.

“…A-and what even does that word mean, ‘autistic?’” your stammering eventually closes with, out of words to say.

Max shrugs. “Heard Anonymous say it at the Rejoicement. Kinda sounds funny. Fits you pretty well, I think.” The pegasus approaches you, the confident smirk on her face faltering. “I can help with the weather! Keep it clear or cover your trail, whatever you want. I can also be a good scout. Y’know, keep a look out for anypony suspicious, keeping watch from overhead. And I can actually hold a conversation without having a mental breakdown, so that’s one up on both you and Anonymous. I’ll also work for dirt-cheap! Tartarus, I’ll work for free! A roof over my head, someplace nearby to fish, and a—” Without warning, Max Gusto stops speaking and looks away. She scrunches, using a hoof to wipe over her face in what must be some sort of pegasus grooming habit. The fragility of her voice as she continues, though, immediately makes you realize what she was wiping at. “—a-a few friends to talk to, maybe. Or just co-workers. I dunno. Whatever you want. S-so, um…” Max stomps a hoof before whipping her face back to yours. “So, what do you say? You’ll take me along, right?!”

…Oh, Tartarus, who are you kidding?

Even the thought of hurting her with the second terrible rejection of her life puts a stone in your stomach. You can’t do that to this mare. You sigh in defeat.

”Awesome!” Max suddenly blurts out. “I won’t let you down, Lucky!”

“B-but I haven’t even--!” you blabber, but it’s cut short with the crushing hug Max pulls you into.

Darnit, why are you so easy to read?!

“Fine!” you sigh as Max buries her head in your tuft, letting out squee after squee. “We’ll discuss payment once we get the chance, but would you kindly show some dignity before the Marestrichtians?”

”Nope,” Max says in your fur. “You’re my friend, and friends hug, so we shall hug. Now hug.”

Friend…?

…Well, yes.

Max Gusto is your friend. She can be annoying at times, and she lives up to the perverted, lazy, thieving pegasus stereotype, but she’s also… genuine. Despite her obvious attempts at hiding her vulnerabilities, you would use the word “genuine” to describe Max Gusto.

Yes. Max is your friend.

You turn to the wagon to see that Smooth Roads is crouching low to the ground as she speaks to Tia, who is smiling attentively at whatever the mare is saying. Anonymous is still in the wagon, probably still changing into his new armor. You turn to the entrance of Marestricht to see that Sagebrush and Apple Seed are looking away respectfully. Apricot Ammil, though, lets out a crude imitation of your earlier giggle at her expense.

”Thank you, Lucky Favor,” Max whispers into your tuft. Her voice almost breaks as she speaks. Her arms cling tighter to you as her weight momentarily leans on you.

You wrap your forelegs around the pegasus and whisper into her ear, “You can call me Faust if you promise to not be a blabbermouth.”

Max lets out a half-hearted “mm-hmm.”

…Does she not--…?

Max gives you one last squeeze before she pulls away, whatever sudden emotion that had pervaded her voice nowhere to be seen. For a moment, she just sits there, relishing in her victory before something gives her pause.

”Is…--” she starts, before lowering her voice. “How are Faust and Lucky Favor even related? Is that like a nickname or--” And then, realization morphs her face. “Ohhh! Right, ‘cause you’re from the uppercaste, and that’s your ‘true’ name. I gotcha.”

She doesn’t know the significance!

“This actually means quite a lot to me, for your information!” you pout, earning yourself a shrug that only Max Gusto could make seem so infuriating.

”Hey, you can’t expect a pegasus to know that stuff,” she defends.

“Why, you—!”

Oh, for All-Mother’s sake! This is just as embarrassing as that night in the sauna.

Max snickers as she gets to her hooves with a flap of her wings. “I’m just messing with you. Not gonna have an episode in front of the Marestrichtians, right? And, speaking of Marestrichtians…”

As Max Gusto passes you and approaches the earth ponies, you have half a mind to send a zap at her flank to match her cutie mark. And what a stereotypical cutie mark for a pegasus that is, just some thunder cloud with a lightning bolt sticking out of it! Just a little spell wouldn’t anger the Marestrichtians, would it? And besides, it’s Max Gusto, you have good reason!

You fume, but despite it all, you find yourself smiling.

The wagon door creaks open from behind. You turn to see Anonymous ducking through the entrance and stepping into the sunlight.

Tia notices as Anonymous exits and her ears lower to her skull. She trots to the other side of the wagon, her pink tail dragging on the dirt as she leaves. Smooth Roads looks off to Tia and seems to conflict with herself for a moment before she approaches Anonymous. You, meanwhile, can only stare at Marestricht’s and Smooth Roads’ handiwork.

Quite frankly, you were surprised Anonymous had survived Plumsteed at all, wearing his previous armor set. The leather and cloth ensemble couldn’t stop any functional weapon you can think of. The oval, stone bracers on his forearms were the only defense he seemed to have, and even then, they were obviously homemade. It’s obvious his survivability was based solely on his martial prowess.

With this new armor, though, you have a hard time coming up with a weapon that could realistically match up against the human.

The creators of this work of art had used the tasteful color scheme of casual Marestricht attire – peaches, creams, and browns – in a most creative fashion. Wood, made flexible by excellent craftsmareship and through magic no doubt, serves as Anonymous’ under armor. It contours and bends with his body almost like a second skin. Its color even matches the same peach hue as what lies underneath. The brown outer armor pieces are most certainly minimalist and functional in its fashion, traveling down Anonymous’ figure in a way that flows with his musculature and strikes an impressive balance between flexibility and protection. From what you can guess from here, a mix of hard metals, wood, and stone must have been used to create the malleable cocoon that now protects Anonymous.

The offensive capabilities of his armor are once again in the form of bracers, but this time they are much more versatile. He has the one pair on his forearms, like before, but another is attached to his shins. His knees and elbows are also fortified with circular plates of metal. Anonymous’ hands – the palms, back of the hands, and between every joint of his fingers – are covered with a complicated network of smoothened cobbles, essentially creating a flexible set of gauntlets. You can immediately tell what the Marestrichtians used as material for Anonymous’ bracers and gauntlets.

Emeralds. The color ties the ensemble together with a resounding earth pony signature, and seems to make Anonymous’ green eyes twinkle even brighter.

You blink owlishly. These earth ponies’ sense of beauty may seem lacking at first glance, but All-Mother above, nothing can be further from the truth. They really do know how to bring out a stallion’s natural elegance.

Anonymous has the air of somepony obviously experienced, but not so grizzled that he wouldn’t be fit for a knights’ guild. Adventurous and resourceful, not rough and criminal.

Your heart flip flops in your chest, and you fell yourself becoming enraptured by him all over again.

”Green, huh?” Anonymous says to Smooth Roads; the first words he’s spoken with her since the Red Garden. He inspects his gauntlets as he speaks, waving and flexing his fingers individually before turning to Smooth Roads.

You breathe a sigh of relief. He’s at least willing to hear what she has to say.

”Alright, that’s enough!” Max Gusto suddenly chirps. You turn to see that she’s chuckling as she gently pulls away from the hug Apple Seed had just given her. And…

…by the Ancients, is she blushing?

”You wouldn’t want your sister to kill me after all that shit, would you?” Max asks, suddenly very interested in grooming herself as she turns away. Apple Seed only smiles, understanding the pegasus’ hesitance.

“I will pray you well, Max Gusto,” Apple Seed finishes with.

Whatever tears Max would shed, she had either already shed or wouldn’t let them. She turns back to the two earth ponies. “You better take care of your brother!” Max blurts out at Apricot before hurriedly turning and trotting away. Apricot rolls her eyes, but lets the pegasus go unscathed. Max passes you, aimed squarely at the wagon. After saying your last farewells, you follow her.

As the two of you return to the wagon, you see Smooth Roads giving a nod to Anonymous before she takes one last look at Marestricht. A smile and a nod – a genuine one – and then Smooth Roads turns and leaves.

Anonymous leans against the wagon, crossing his arms as he waits for you. One look at his face, and you know that his talk with Smooth Roads went well. A second look, and you notice the excited, yet reserved upwards twitch of his lips as he peers down at his new armor.

This is it.

It isn’t the first time you’ve set out on the road, and it isn’t even the most significant, when compared to your time leaving the uppercastes with Tia, and even your time leaving Plumsteed with your new housecarla. But it’s certainly the first time you’ve felt this much hope at what the future holds.

In this moment, you realize that Plumsteed, that night when Anonymous burnt your letter, the Red Garden… it was all worth it. You’ve never been closer to your housecarla, and he’s in the best shape since you’ve met him. You have a skilled cloudpusher and friend at your side. Tia is still safe, and you have no doubt that Anonymous and her will bond during the next week of peaceful traveling.

If the world ended tomorrow, at least this moment, right now, would remain perfect—

”Eksh-kyuse me! Shkolar Lucky Favor!”

It feels like you skid to a halt, even if you hadn’t even been at trotting speed. You recognize the voice instantly, muffled as it is. It feels so weird, hearing it not unabashedly nuzzling up to Anonymous or whispering defeatist apologies.

You let out a low, unladylike grumble as you turn to find a certain mauve mare bounding towards you. The dark travelers’ attire makes her intentions immediately known. The purple-white bun atop her head bounces as she passes Sagebrush, the grass bag hanging between her teeth swinging in her gait as she passes by Apple Seed and Apricot Ammil. Apricot brushes up against her brother protectively, but Apple Seed only follows Riverside with his eyes. As Bountiful Riverside approaches, Sagebrush trots up behind her, an almost pleading look in her eyes, aimed squarely at you.

…Oh, Ancients-damnit.

It’s low at first; barely perceptible to your unicorn ears, but you swear on the All-Father’s grave that you hear Max Gusto stifle a snigger.

”Scholar Lucky Favor…” Sachemare Sagebrush coos in the same tone a loving father would say to a wayward foal.

Ancients-DAMNIT!

Max has to put a hoof to her muzzle and turn away to keep from bursting out laughing. You can hear the footsteps of Anonymous approaching you from behind, but all you can do is stare at Riverside as she gives you a bow so low her muzzle touches the dirt.

Before you can even open your mouth, Sagebrush tells you, “I would never wish to force you into anything, Scholar Lucky Favor. But do not act like you are not in need of a body mender on your travels. Your new armor will only hold back so much. Yours, Tia’s, and Brother Anonymous’.”

For a brief moment, the look on Sagebrush’s face reminds you of that paralyzing second she had thought you were responsible for Anonymous’ condition after just arriving in Marestricht.

“It’s—” you start before clearing the cotton from your throat. “It’d be much too dangerous for her! Max Gusto already has wilderness experience, but Riverside would be leaving everything she’s known! She’d be leaving her own people! And, for the love of the All-Mother, I can’t afford another employee!”

Sagebrush doesn’t get after you for objecting. She only smiles sadly. Riverside seems to melt deeper into the ground as the Sachemare says, “Bountiful Riverside and I had a long talk after we left the Rejoicement. She has thought long and hard about her future in Marestricht… and has come to the conclusion that she feels more at home with—”

Sagebrush pauses for a moment. Anonymous now stands by your side, and the Sachemare’s eyes flick to him before returning to your own.

”—with your group than she does Marestricht. I understand she may not know much about the world outside Marestricht, but I assure you she will not let you down as a body mender.”

As you look down at Bountiful Riverside, still not saying a word, still pressing her face into the ground and silently begging, you feel prickles of sorrow for the mauve mare. This same sorrow reflects in Apple Seed’s eyes, tenfold.

”Letting her leave would be a kindness, Scholar Lucky Favor,” Sagebrush says quietly. “The first kindness Marestricht would be showing her since Apple Seed’s departure.”

Apple Seed doesn’t react verbally, only lowering his head and nodding knowingly. Sagebrush looks at you again, but there’s something different about her now. Gone is the tall, scarred, and muscular mare you had come to respect over these past few days. In front of you now is a herdmother pleading for you to do right by the daughter she had wronged.

“…M-Marestricht would be left without a body mender,” you say halfheartedly. The resistance in your voice leaves as you say this last protest. It’s getting harder for you to say no to these ponies.

As if an idea strikes the melancholy thoughts from her mind, Sagebrush tilts her head in mock confusion. “Whatever do you mean, Scholar Lucky Favor?” she asks. “Marestricht’s body mender count remains the same. Riverside has given her position to the very stallion standing before you.”

Apple Seed’s head snaps up at this news. He can only stare between Sagebrush and Riverside. Even Apricot Ammil is stunned. Bountiful Riverside, meanwhile, raises her face to meet yours. The mare is taller than you – still not as tall as a lot of the other earth ponies you’ve seen in Marestricht, but tall enough for her face to be at least a full head above yours. However, her height doesn’t diminish the filly-like, quiet, determined, begging look in her eyes.

Each second looking into her sea blue eyes is a second you come closer to the realization that you can’t reject this mare either.

…Ancients damnit…

“…F-fine,” you murmur, and the effect is instant. Bountiful Riverside doesn’t lurch forward and hug you like Max did, but her eyes sparkle just a little brighter, and her tuft puffs out just a little thicker.

Of course her tuft is bigger than yours, she’s a mountain-dwelling earth pony! You could make a blanket with only a day’s worth of her winter coat shedding! You’re not proportionately smaller!

Riverside turns back to bid her farewells to the earth ponies. You grumble some more, kicking a hoof before turning back to the wagon. You should retrieve Tia and climb aboard, you suppose…

You don’t want to be treating Anonymous’ healer like this. Especially after what you found out about the poor mare last night. Tartarus, you thought you had overcome this bitterness you had towards her that very night! But the thought of her spending the undefined future with you – with Anonymous – rubs you the wrong way. Much more wrong than one night of rubbing up against Anonymous did.

You glance back to the mare. After Riverside’s shared bow with Sachemare Sagebrush, she approaches Apple Seed and Apricot Ammil. Apricot seems at a loss for words for a moment – both of the siblings do – until she merely bows her head to the mare. Apple Seed is the only one who gives her parting words.

“Your work on Anonymous was becoming of the best body menders Marestricht has to offer,” he says as he bows, mirroring his sister. “Summer Harvest would have adored you, Mender Bountiful Riverside.”

Riverside hastily begins whispering something to them, to stop embarrassing themselves and that she doesn’t deserve his kind words, but you’re no longer paying attention.

You find Tia inspecting nothing in particular on the wagon and scoop her up. She squeaks as if being jolted awake. When you prop her on your withers and turn back, that’s when you realize the only one who had followed you back to the wagon was Max Gusto. Anonymous is walking back to the wagon, Bountiful Riverside at his side.

It's subtle. Barely a graze, really, but Anonymous' emerald-encrusted hand glides over Riverside's mane in a single, smooth pet. She looks up at the human and gives a smile.

…It took so much more effort for you to get that close to him.

“Naw naw...” Tia grumbles, clearly perturbed. You can feel the filly’s grip on you tighten just enough to be noticeable. "...not momma..."

You hesitate for a moment. You’re turning your head to respond to the filly’s fears, to give her a reassuring smile or some encouraging words you’ll improvise once you open your mouth, when Max suddenly gives your snout a whap with her wing. You scrunch, glaring at the pegasus, but she turns away.

”Better hurry, Faust," she says as she strolls to the entrance to the wagon. "That mare was born in the wrong body. She's a sky thief, through and through."

You’re going to get real sick of hearing Max call you Faust, you just know it.

---

You extend a hoof and roll the iuncti root back to the splayed mat of woven grass.

It’s hard to keep your mending supplies all in one place. The world shifts and bobs like a leaf on a river, rearranging both your supplies and your stomach with each dip of the wagon.

Sachemare Sagebrush had warned you about this the night of the Rejoicement. You’ve lived your entire life in Marestricht. It was by no means sheltered, and you are by no means unaccustomed to danger – avalanches, pegasus raids, griffon attacks… You figured you would adapt to the outside world and its dangers as you went along.

With the thought of Anonymous by your side, the thought never really intimidated you. If he could stand up to Maretinet Apricot Ammil, he could stand up to anypony.

…Tartarus, you’re foregoing Brother Anonymous’ honorific in your thoughts again. You need to stop that. You don’t yet have his permission.

Back to the subject at hoof. It seems that your estimation for the journey was askew. It has only been a few hours since Marestricht disappeared back into the distant mountains. Even sitting still in this rocking, swerving, wooden jail Lucky Favor calls her wagon is a challenge. It feels as if you’ve been swept away in an avalanche of movement with every veer of your surroundings. You’ve tried multiple times to petrevoke through the floor to feel some semblance of security. You’re no earthpusher, but you have no problem connecting with Equus’ heart if you focus enough. However, each attempt only makes you feel nauseous, as if you were aboard a ship at the mercy of a roaring ocean.

It would be a little more comfortable, and admittedly a little less dangerous, if you sat atop the couch attached to the wagon wall, but you have your reasons for laying on the ground. The only reason you’ve kept from upchucking is that recounting your supplies provides a good distraction. Iuncti roots, the bags of antequus seed powder, the lubotice brew, among countless others, fit snugly in the complicated web of pockets and hollow rocks within your medicinal sack. Counting them, recounting them, arranging them, rearranging them…

…You wish Brother Anonymous were here.

You don’t know why, but you want him by your side. Perhaps you’d feel safer with him close by, like you did during the Rejoicement. The world spun much more when you had faced Maretinet Apricot Ammil than it does now; when the human had laid his hand on your withers while you were trying to flee like a coward, you felt safe.

Unfortunately, Brother Anonymous is currently on the helm of the wagon, accompanying Scholar Lucky Favor as she drives it. Cloudpusher Max Gusto is also in the outside world, from what you heard, keeping an eye from above. This leaves you alone in the wagon.

Alone, save for Tia.

When pillars of smoke had appeared over the hill, Scholar Lucky decided to relinquish Tia to the confines of the wagon so she wouldn’t be spotted during any potential encounter. The unicorn had previously told you and the Cloudpusher that Tia was not to be seen by anypony outside of her group. Since you were “of the least immediate need” – Scholar Lucky’s words – you were chosen to watch over the peculiar little filly in the wagon.

Said filly hasn’t made any move to interact with you. She only sits in the corner, eyeing you suspiciously. Sitting someplace softer than the little filly felt rude in some way, so you’ve opted to lay on the ground a few cubits away from her.

You sigh as you return to your task at hoof, finding another barely-perceptible flaw in your laid-out supplies to occupy yourself with. You know you’ve done something wrong, but you don’t know what. Tia makes no attempts to interact with you. Scholar Lucky Favor avoids talking with you when she can, but at least she’s cordial. Cloudpusher Max Gusto continues whatever conversation you will yourself to start with her, but she does so with a reservedness you don’t see with her conversations with the others.

It seems to only exacerbate the problem when you try to speak with Brother Anonymous, even if the subject is about being more open to your new comrades. The last time you spoke with him, you caught a glimpse of Lucky hastily smoothening her chest tuft before turning away.

At one point, you had asked Scholar Lucky Favor outright if she was Brother Anonymous’ foalbearer. She gave you the same look that your blood father had given you when you told that crass joke to one of your male friends.

…You suppose that is a no.

As if the Ancients were punishing you for being enveloped in your thoughts rather than the present, the wagon jolts violently. You can’t save your supplies. You immediately crouch low to keep your balance, but your supplies aren’t as lucky, and glide across the wooden floor in all directions. Tia lets out a squeak of pain.

Your attention shifts from your supplies to the filly almost instantaneously. Her face is contorted in fear.

“Are you well, little sprout?” you ask as you near the filly. Once again, her eyes lock onto you. You smile gently, lowering yourself onto your belly so the two of you are almost level. She is quite a small foal, much smaller than any foal you’ve seen in Marestricht.

”Oh, darnit!” Lucky Favor’s muffled voice calls out from the front of the wagon. You feel your innards squirm as the wagon slowly comes to a stop, thank the Ancients. “It wasn’t as shallow as I was hoping… No, Anonymous, don’t offer to pick it up! You’ll get wet! Anonymous!” A commotion of fur and a masculine voice erupts from the wagon. Your lips twitch into a smile at the thought of whatever must be going down. It is one of the good things of this journey, watching these ponies interact with each other. “Many apologies, Tia! Riverside! The interior isn’t magically stabilized quite yet! I’ll get on that once we set up camp later!”

You flinch.

This is another thing you had vastly underestimated, but this one is… much more embarrassing. Of course Scholar Lucky Favor would rely on magic on her voyage; she’s a unicorn.

At the thought of unicorn magic, your blood father’s face pops into your mind once again. This time, he wears a very different expression on his face.

”twade!”

You blink. The chip on Tia’s hoof doesn’t seem to be bothering her much as she stands on all fours. There is no suspicion on her face now, only an adorable determination that almost makes you squee.

You tilt your head at the little filly. Before you can get a word out, the filly’s horn suddenly glows.

Your blood freezes and you almost swipe at Tia’s horn, but something stops you. Well, not something, but everything about the glow of her horn. Your fur doesn’t feel like it’s being plucked off your body like it normally does when a unicorn engages a spell in proximity. The air doesn’t feel like it’s being sucked out of your lungs. You don’t feel panic at the sight of the natural world being violated.

You might not have the trained eyes of an earthpusher, but the moment Tia’s magic engages you know she isn’t a typical unicorn. Your ear flicks at the sound of utensils dragging across wood, and you turn to find that each of your supplies are slowly returning to their grass sack.

It is difficult to explain just how different this filly’s magic feels. The ambient particles of air don’t feel like they’re being moved against their will. It almost feels like a natural gust of condensed wind is guiding each of your supplies. It’s all so… warm.

You’ve really, really underestimated just how different the world outside of Marestricht would be. One thing is certain, though. You now understand why the others want to protect Tia so much.

”twade!” Tia pipes up once again as the corners of the grass mat are lifted, the sack regaining tautness.

You turn back to the filly. You give her a low bow of gratitude, but it doesn’t do much to dissuade her from whatever she’s trying to say. In fact, it seems as though the bow flusters Tia even more. Her wings rustle in annoyance, and she stomps her front hooves against the wood.

”twade!” she once again affirms. “hewp Bownti--… Bountifuw… Wivah…”

The filly mulls over what has to be your name in her mouth. You smile and open your own to correct her, but she doesn’t give you the chance, suddenly springing forward in a defensive crouch. Her wings flare open as she gives you a pleading, determined glare. “hewp you!” she asserts. “you no take naw-nee!”

Naw-nee?

You’ve never heard that word before. Why would you take it?

Regardless, this is the first time Tia has spoken to you, and you do not want to punish the filly for it. You simply smile and say, “I will not take any naw-nees, little sprout. And I thank you for your help.”

Tia relaxes, sitting on her haunches and giving an affirmative nod. “no take naw-nee,” she says, proud of herself.

With a lurch, the wagon begins to move once again. Tia doesn’t seem to be much better off than you as her eyes immediately widen and she plants her front hooves back onto the floor for support. Seeing Tia like this, the thought of leaving her to return to your tinkering doesn’t even enter your mind.

“Would you like to go someplace a little softer?” you ask gently.

There’s still a hint of distrust in Tia’s eyes, but it’s gone once you scoot to the side to let her get a view of the couch. It’s slow, but soon she relents, lifting her chin up and walking past you. She almost reminds you of Scholar Lucky Favor.

The closer she gets to the couch, though, the pretenses drop, and she excitedly hops onto the soft cushions. She giggles as she stomps her hooves into the fabric, her pink mane and tail whipping this way and that before she finds a comfortable spot. You wait for her to settle down before you approach and sit on the other end of the couch.

Tia’s magenta eyes peer at you from the corner of your vision as you settle down. As your back touches the wooden wall of the wagon, the muffled hum of Brother Anonymous’ and Scholar Lucky Favor’s voices become clear enough to make out.

”Honestly, Anonymous,” Scholar Lucky Favor grumbles. “I could’ve taken care of the blasted barrel.”

Brother Anonymous gives a noncommittal hum.

The two stop speaking for a while. You’re a little disappointed, thinking their conversation is over. Scholar Lucky Favor is much more sociable with Brother Anonymous than she is with you; perhaps she would reveal more about herself while she is talking to him? Maybe reveal why she doesn’t like to speak with you?

But after a few minutes of sitting peacefully, and a few glances sent Tia’s way to find her studying you, their conversation starts once again.

”Apologies for bumping into you like that,” Scholar Lucky Favor says. Underneath the hum of Scholar Lucky’s horn and the ambient sounds of the forest, you make out the sound of somepony tapping her hooves together. It’s slow, nervous. Like a filly.

Are Tia and Scholar Lucky Favor related in some way?

Brother Anonymous doesn’t respond verbally, but from the relieved sigh of Scholar Lucky you assume he took it well enough. He must have shrugged.

The mare giggles. “It’s good to see you take that so well. I remember when that would have earned me a slap, at the least!”

The human responds with a breathy, “Yeah…” before something in his voice changes. “Looks like it’s coming up soon. We have a plan, right?”

”Oh, yes!” Scholar Lucky titters. “Of course. We’ll, um… well, we’ll figure it out when we get there.” A long, hard pause. “Sorry. It was hard to think on the ride. I was distracted.”

“We were just sitting here alone--” Brother Anonymous begins, before his complaints end with a reluctant sigh. The tapping of Scholar Lucky’s hooves stop abruptly, as if she had just been caught doing something wrong. “Well, let’s try and find a good vantage point. Then we can get something in motion. What the Hell’s with that look?”

”I was thinking how good your new armor looks. The sun reflects brilliantly off it.”

You hear the slightest hint of excitement in Anonymous’ voice. “C’mere, look at this,” he says, the seat on the helm of the wagon creaking. Is he leaning closer to Scholar Lucky Favor? You can’t tell from here…

You plant your hoof against the wall to change that. It’s jarring for a moment, boarding this adrift ship on that roaring ocean, but you feel the vibrations of the shaking wood and stone end with Anonymous’ and Scholar Lucky Favor’s bodies. Anonymous’ proximity makes you feel secure.

It feels like he is indeed leaning towards Scholar Lucky Favor, reaching an arm in front of her face.

“It’s like a gauntlet,” he says. “But it’s as flexible as a glove. I could probably catch a blade with this.”

”W-what?!” the mare squeaks. “That’s not-- Anonymous, please do not ever put yourself in such danger! I forbid it!”

”That depends on what you get yourself into, my lady.”

There’s a pause before Scholar Lucky continues. “…Potential maimings aside, forgive me, but I believe you’re mistaken about my statement. I was thinking about how well your armor matches your eyes.”

There’s a silence between the mare and human. You’re not sure if the wagon has entered a more secluded part of the forest or if you’re focusing too much with your silent petrevoking, but the birds and crunching of grass under wheels also seem to become muted.

You can’t help but scrunch in frustration. You wanted to know more about Scholar Lucky Favor, and you suppose you got your wish. The mare is certainly no traditional Marestrichtian, who would make herself available yet wait patiently for the stallion to make his decision; to not sway the potential father of her foals with flattery.

You hope this is only more miscommunication. Perhaps unicorns are just more willing to flirt.

No, maybe what you may consider to be flirting, they consider to be complimenting a friend. Ancients above, you hope she is only complimenting her friend.

Body mending is so much simpler than this.

“Does this have to do with last night?” Anonymous suddenly murmurs, snapping you to attention. “Just… how drunk were you again, Lucky?”

You frown, muttering something under your breath to the effect of, “That mare better not have given him alcohol…”

You’re too busy petrevoking to hear Tia’s indignant huff, her attention now fully on you as her ears tilt to the two drivers’ direction.

“Apologies,” Scholar Lucky mumbles. “That was unprofessional of me.”

Anonymous wastes no time with his riposte: “Lucky, you are without a doubt the most unprofessional lady I’ve ever worked for.”

The unicorn gives an audible “hmph!”

”Still in my top five, though,” Anonymous relents with a shrug.

Another pause. Your fur prickles with impatience.

“Anonymous?” Scholar Lucky Favor asks softly. Anonymous turns to her and gestures her to continue. Oh, blast, you’ve forgotten Brother Anonymous’ honorific again! “I’d like to talk about last night. Not right now, mind you! Whenever you’re comfortable, I mean! But, um…” The tapping continues. “I would be appreciative if you put it as a priority, soon?”

Brother Anonymous reacts to Scholar Lucky’s words by looking away from the unicorn. Scholar Lucky leans forward, her heartbeat quickening as she waits for Brother Anonymous’ answer. “Maybe later,” he mumbles. Before anything else can be said, Brother Anonymous’ voice suddenly cuts through the silence in a completely different tone. “Max found something. See that?”

”Y-yes,” Scholar Lucky responds, clearing her throat. “I do. Parking there now. Thank you, by the way. I can see that you’re trying.”

”You’re teetering, Lucky,” Brother Anonymous replies. “You’re teetering juuuust over the line of kissassery.”

Another harumph, and that’s the end of the conversation.

You sigh forlornly, cutting the one-sided petrevoke and trying to blot out the outside sounds.

“deal bweaker!”

Before you can react, Tia’s horn glows and your sack becomes slack. Your supplies once again scatter across the floor, and you’re left scrambling to catch the few that come your way.

“Blast!” you curse. “What is your reasoning, little sprout?!”

”bwoke deal!” Tia affirms, turning away. “want naw-nee! hewp gone!”

You can’t make heads or tails of that filly. You only focus on grabbing the root that had rolled to you before turning your attention to the rest of your supplies. Thankfully, the wagon soon rolls to a stop and you’re left in relative stability. You would feel much better if your hooves were atop the solid, endless depths of Equus rather than a thin layer of wood and stone, but at least now it isn’t moving.

As you’re biting onto the lubotice brew’s necklace, the door to the wagon unlatches before swinging open.

“We’ve arrived!” Scholar Lucky announces in a singsong voice. Her mood always seems to improve after speaking with Brother Anonymous. “Riverside, thank you for watching over Tia. Come out and get some fresh air, hm?”

You smile and open your mouth to respond, but that’s when Scholar Lucky Favor’s horn is set aflame with a cyan glow.

Your fur feels as if it’s being pulled off your body towards the spell. It becomes harder to breathe. And as the air gasps and implodes from the telekinesis, for a split second, you see a glimpse of your blood father’s face.

You yelp, dropping the necklace and skittering away from Scholar Lucky. The unicorn notices your reaction immediately and hastily disengages her horn.

”I’m so sorry!” she cries as she hops into the wagon.

The world soon turns to normal as the magic dissipates. You catch your breath before you realize you’ve dropped the lubotice brew. “It is alright, Scholar Lucky Favor,” you whisper before bending to scoop it back up. As you do so, you hear four tiny hooves clack against the floor and make their way to the unicorn.

Scholar Lucky had wanted to bring Tia to her side. That is all. The magic wasn’t aimed at you, Riverside.

It wasn’t aimed at your blood father.

”Would you like some help with that, Riverside?” Scholar Lucky asks as you move to the next discarded article. “I understand it was a bumpy ride, but I plan to stabilize the interior later tonight.”

You suppress a shudder. “I am fine,” you say neutrally.

Scholar Lucky Favor’s shoulder slump at your response. She opens her mouth as if to say something more, but nothing comes. It’s only when Tia begins to babble that Scholar Lucky shushes her. “Come here, Tiny-Tia. Let’s think of a plan, shall we?”

You don’t say anything as the two ponies leave the wagon. It’s so strange. Those two are similar in many respects – their attitude, their white fur, the horn atop their head – but still feel so different. When Tia’s horn had glowed, it was… less of an ignition, more like a gentle glow. But Scholar Lucky Favor’s glow had as much vitriol towards the natural world as any unicorn’s.

You feel bad for reacting towards Scholar Lucky’s magic like that. You’ve made the choice to come along on her journey. She shouldn’t feel restricted from doing something so natural for herself.

You sigh, ashamed. It seems that, when there’s nopony in need of your medical aid, you’re nothing but a hindrance to these ponies. Marestricht wasn’t much different.

A masculine voice snaps you from your stupor.

”I’m helping you,” Brother Anonymous’ deep utterance bounces in your ears. “Deal with it.”

You turn around to see the tall human standing at full height in the wagon. It seems as though the creators of the wagon were considerate of his height. His eyes search around the wagon before his emerald-encrusted hands get to work, picking up your strewn-about supplies from the ground. The two of you continue in silence for some time. Admittedly, picking everything up from the floor and putting it back in your sack takes much shorter than if you hadn’t had Brother Anonymous’ help. Still, your cheeks burn at the shame of having a stallion help you with labor, physical strength or not. After all, a stallion’s strength only makes the weaker mare more honorable when she is the one to aide him.

As you pull the grass knot of your sack tight, Brother Anonymous gives a nod and turns to leave. “C’mon,” he says.

“Brother Anonymous?” you ask.

”It wasn’t a big deal,” the human says as he raises a hand in a dismissive gesture. You’re disappointed he won’t even take a thank you, but that wasn’t the only reason you called for his attention.

“No, I had a question,” you correct. Brother Anonymous stops his advance and turns to look at you. For a brief moment you’re entranced by the way the outside world frames his body, and the way the sun bounces tiny glimmers off his emerald gauntlets. Scholar Lucky Favor was right. The emeralds in his gauntlets bring out his eyes quite brilliantly.

You clear your throat, unable to look into the human’s eyes anymore. An unfamiliar heat blossoms in your cheeks. You focus on tying your grass sack of medical supplies to your hip string. “Is there something I can do differently?” you ask meekly. “Scholar Lucky Favor does not like me. Nor any of the others. I know I have done something wrong, but I do not know what it is.”

A sort of uncomfortable, bemused silence pervades the wagon. Brother Anonymous stays still for a moment before he turns around. He peers out of the wagon and looks both ways before coming back in, satisfied that nopony is listening, you suppose. The human crosses his arms, leaning his weight on one of his legs in a bipedal show of nonchalance that’s foreign, yet fascinating to you.

”Don’t take it too hard,” he sighs, scratching the dark fur on his chin. “Lucky’s just--… Well, I don’t think she’d appreciate me calling her that, actually.” Brother Anonymous hums, tapping his bicep with an index finger. “It’ll take a bit for them to trust someone new. I’ll put it that way.”

“And yet you trust me, Brother Anonymous?” you ask quietly.

The human stays silent at that. He looks away from you in the same fashion as when Scholar Lucky had brought up whatever she had told him last night. He continues to tap with a finger as his eyes briefly turn downwards, his thoughts inwards.

You gulp, suddenly not knowing if you want to hear his answer.

“Look, Riverside,” Brother Anonymous says after consideration. “You’re fine. Really. Just… be patient, I guess. God, I suck at this.” Brother Anonymous mumbles that last remark under his breath before turning to the exit of the wagon once again, waving for you to join him as he descends. “If you wanna do something, try and drop the honorifics. If they’re not too culturally sacred, I mean.”

“I can?!—” you squeak, before clearing your throat to recover. “Ahem! I can call you Anonymous? I have your permission?”

”Yeah, call me Anonymous, call Lucky Lucky, and call Max Bitch with Wings.” And with those words, Anonymous bows out of the wagon and into the outside world. He stays just outside, waiting for you.

You follow close behind Anonymous, your head held high and a smile plastered on your face. You have to physically restrain the squee from coming out of your throat.

You guess you weren’t doing everything wrong!

As you clop down the steps and onto warm grass, you are once again reunited with the natural grounds of Equus. Your contact of the world’s stable core is reconnected, and you no longer feel as if it would suddenly lurch forward at any given moment. The adrift ship has beached on a sunny, calm island.

In stark contrast to your inner ship, though, mist surrounds your group. It’s thin enough to be able to peer through and locate what looked like a strange village some ways down the hill, but thick enough to obscure the wagon from said village’s residents. The heat from the sun still warms the grass underneath, and the forest life is still abuzz with unperturbed buzzing and humming. Cloudpusher Max Gusto must have recently made this cover for the wagon.

Err, Bitch with Wings—no! Max Gusto! Max Gusto must have recently made this cover, you mean. Just Max Gusto.

As you and Anonymous near said pegasus, currently peering through the tree line at the village alongside your other two comrades, Lucky turns her head towards you both.

There it is again. Whatever apologetic feelings Lucky still harbored for you after she had conducted the spell, whatever friendly twinkle remained in her eyes, are swept away once again. She quickly turns back to the distant village. Her posture is more slumped than before, as if the breath was punched out of her belly.

You and Anonymous approach the three ponies. As Anonymous takes a knee beside Lucky Favor, you sit on your haunches, looking over the village currently being scrutinized. The village is more of a hamlet than a village... No, not even that. You don’t see any residential homes, only markets, tents, and wagons. You squint.

Just what is this… settlement?

It’s hard to explain the unease that pervades your mind as you inspect it. If you were to compare Marestricht to what you’re currently looking over, the earth pony village would be akin to a hermit crab taking refuge in an uninhabited shell; a home made from an offering of nature. This village is different. It reminds you of a timberwolf, burrowing deep into idle ground and carving its home into Equus’ new wound.

”Lucky?” Max suddenly asks with a tap to the side of the unicorn’s head. As you tune into Lucky, you realize she’s been mumbling under her breath for at least the last ten seconds.

“Oh!” she suddenly yips, giving both you and Anonymous a glance. “My apologies. Yes, Max, as I was saying, the plan! The plan to retrieve the things. The important things that are essential for our quest…” Another look at you and Anonymous, but this time slower, as if studying every follicle on your coat. “…The things that I’m having trouble remembering at the moment.”

Max blinks, unamused, before her attention turns to the filly in Lucky’s arms. Amusement suddenly comes back onto her face in full force. “I’ll give you a hint if I can give Tia a sweet mustache,” she says.

”mus-taj?” Tia asks with a tilt of her head.

Anonymous reaches a hand in front of Lucky’s face and snaps his fingers. The sharp clack! that erupts from the metal makes Lucky blink in surprise. “Larua roots,” he reminds. “Wagon.”

”Ah, that’s right!” Lucky Favor titters, her attention going back to the marketstead. “Thank you, Anonymous, my dear.” Another glance your way. You scrunch in confusion. Anonymous only presses one of his fingers into Lucky’s cheek until she glares at him, nudging it away with a push of her head. “Riverside and Max, I present to you something neither pegasi nor earth ponies have the luxury of experiencing: a marketstead. You can think of it as a band of traveling vendors, choosing to stick together as they traverse the wilderness.”

You blink in awe, giving the marketstead another, closer look. You can see how the small amalgamation of tents and wagons seem to slowly glide across the ground, a faint magical glow just underneath the marketstead.

Quick as a whip, your awe snaps to unease.

”This is our chance to retrieve the supplies we need,” Lucky iterates. “We’ll need a thome on ambient mass-magic, first and foremost. It’s low level magic, so it shouldn’t cost much.”

You squirm, but remain silent. You understand their need of the larua roots. Thankfully, you don’t have any such need.

”I’m doing it anyway,” Max says in a sotto snicker, reaching out and grabbing a hooffull of mist. “Prepare to be handsome, Tiny-Tia…”

”…There’s the thomery.” Lucky Favor says with a point of her white hoof. You turn to follow it, seeing a pitch black, rectangular building sticking out from the rainbow of other structures. Even from here, and even as a body mender, you can see the miasmic traces of magical signatures wafting from within. You suppress a shudder, glad you’re so far away from the ominous shape. “Thomeries are quite distinct due to the high levels of ambient magic within. You can practically see the containment runes from here!”

”Buck me, those are some fancy symbols,” Max whispers under her breath, still hard at work with her glob of mist. You tilt your head at the vulgar expression. As Lucky Favor gives Max a glare, the pegasus intentionally looks past her to turn to you. “Cultural expression. Say it whenever you’re impressed. Trust me, it’s super polite.”

You doubt something as vulgar as that would be considered polite in any society. Then again, coming from someplace thousands of cubits from the ground might spawn more cultural differences than you’d think.

Lucky Favor continues, “After that, we should try and find a map of the coastline. That will allow me to cast an ambient direction spell on the wagon. Then we won’t have to manually drive it to the dockyard…” Lucky’s voice trembles with excitement.

You nod, hopeful and already excited for being well away from this place.

”Wait, wait, wait!” Max suddenly blurts out. “Are you saying we’re just gonna walk in there and go on a shopping spree? What if somepony recognizes us, or the Red Garden are here?”

Lucky sighs, the excitement draining from her system. “That is the main problem,” she relents, her ears flopping down to her skull. She looks on at the many markets; weapons shops, armor shops, shops for things you don’t recognize. “Shame, too…”

An idea pops into your mind before it does anypony else’s. It isn’t a particularly pleasant idea, but the more you think about it, the more you realize this may be the best idea you’ve had. Not just for its practicality, but it also gives you a chance to repay the selflessness these ponies have shown you.

“I can go alone,” you say softly. Immediately, all eyes are on you. You look at each pair in turn, defending yourself with, “Anypony who would recognize you will not recognize me.”

Each pony has a different reaction to what you said. Max Gusto blinks, nodding slowly at your proposition as a small smile comes to her face. Lucky Favor’s frown deepens to dangerous levels. Tia stares at you with wide eyes, partially obscured by the half-transparent mustache on her face.

Before anypony else can respond, though, Anonymous’ gruff voice cuts through with conviction. “No.”

Max’s peach eyes flick between you and Anonymous. “Okay, I’m lost,” she says. “It’s a pretty good plan! Give Riverside some money and she goes into town to buy our shit, no fuss. Why the buck are we dismissing it again?!”

Lucky Favor’s face whips to Max in a glare before she juts her head downward in Tia’s direction. Max gives a noncommittal shrug before Lucky returns to the subject, “I can’t say I’m not nervous, either. Riverside is… how do you say… erm, no offense, dear, but if I were to pick one of us to be a negotiator it wouldn’t be you.”

It hurts, even when you try to not let it. “It is okay,” you say with a smile, rubbing your foreleg with a hoof. “But I still believe this is the safest option. Unless Max Gusto would prefer to steal our supplies under the cover of night?”

”Buck you,” Max spits. You flinch at the severity in her voice. You didn’t mean to offend her! Pegasi simply make good thieves!

Anonymous gives Max a flick on the muzzle, causing the mare to scrunch, before turning to you. “I’m coming, then,” he says.

You’re scrambling to deny him, but Lucky Favor beats you to it.

”Absolutely not!” she almost shouts.

”I can handle myself, Lucky,” Anonymous defends. “It’s my job to protect you all, remember?”

Lucky Favor looks like she has a rebuttal, but the human doesn’t let her make it.

“If they’re part of the team,” he affirms. “I’m their housecarla as well.” Each word is like a disciplinary tap to Lucky’s horn.

Lucky bows her head and grumbles. “I know that… but if anypony down there is looking for us, you’d be the first they would recognize. It wouldn’t be a problem of whether you could handle yourself. They’d know we were here.”

For a brief moment, the look on Lucky Favor’s face reminds you of something that happened some months ago. During the winter, a group of foals had escaped from the clutches of a rabid griffon on the outskirts of the mountain, because of the sacrifice of their mother. When you were dressing one of the foal’s wounds, that filly had the same look of raw fear that briefly plasters Lucky’s face.

…You want to befriend this unicorn.

You’re going to help her, and that’s final. You won’t be talked out of this.

Anonymous’ defenses falter. His shoulder slump, and all he can do is look at Lucky in an uncomfortable stalemate.

Max’s squeaky voice cuts through the silence. “I know this is asking a lot of you, Noninator, but don’t look so gloomy.”

Anonymous’ face definitely doesn’t look gloomy anymore. Incredibly annoyed and exasperated, but not gloomy. “Oh my God, if you ever call me that again…” he mutters, but his words pass under Max’s radar as she continues,

”Besides! Look at her, dude. She’s an earth pony; she’s twice our size! I doubt anypony will pick a fight with her.”

Anonymous looks at you, studying your frame, your fur, and your muscles. You are certainly no maretinet, but you haven’t let your body mending get in the way of your fitness.

…Is he impressed?

Obviously, you won’t ask him this. All you can do is sit stock still.

Lucky Favor glares at you before turning away.

…Darnit, you’ve messed up again.

“Tell you what,” Max says, her gaze drifting to you. There’s still a hint of bitterness at your calling her a thief, but she seems to be pushing it away at the moment. “I’ll keep watch from overhead. Nopony’ll see me, and if anypony gives her any trouble, I’ll help her kick their flanks. Worst case scenario, I’ll grab her and bolt. I carried your fat human butt, so I can definitely handle her when the time comes!”

Max holds out a foreleg and flexes, driving her point home. You’re more than a little put off by the fact she’d so openly admitted to carrying Anonymous, and had even called him… overweight, which he is most certainly not.

”What if something happens indoors?” Anonymous asks. “How will you know she needs help?”

Max only flicks an ear as her answer. Anonymous sighs, putting his face in his hands.

“Anonymous,” you say with certitude. He turns to you, his eyes appearing much older and more tired than they have any right to. “I know it is unpredictable, but… please trust me.”

Anonymous says nothing. His gaze is fixated on you, but it’s nothing like before. His eyes are narrowed and his lips are pursed. The look he gives you now reminds you of your blood father.

After a while, Anonymous closes his eyes and sighs through his nose. With a subtle shake of his head, he finally mutters, “…Fine.”

Before you can respond, a certain filly pipes up from Lucky Favor’s forelegs. The words are unfamiliar in her mouth, but are spoken with such passion and obliviousness they leave no room for interpretation.

“Buck me!” Tia chirrups.

As if a switch had been flicked, three glares are now unanimously trained on Max Gusto. The lime pegasus becomes petrified under your scrutiny. Her wings flutter in emotion before she lets out a forced chuckle. “Wow, that backfired!” she giggles as she scratches the back of her head. “Didn’t expect her to pick that up so easily! She’s a smart cookie! You’ve got a smart cookie there, Lucky-loo, that’s for sure! I’m gonna walk over there and stand in the corner!”

Max swivels on her heels before powerwalking to the other side of the wagon, her head hung low and her face a bright shade of crimson. Your glare stays trained on the pegasus all the way there.

”Tia, dear,” Lucky coos as she sets the filly on the ground. “Do you know what that means? Be honest, now.”

Tia’s eyes are wide as she turns between Lucky and, surprisingly, you. Why won’t she look at Anonymous? “nup!” Tia affirms. “why Macks scawed?”

”Why don’t you go and ask Max that yourself?” Lucky asks patiently.

Tia nods her head excitedly before scuttling off towards the pegasus. Tia more hops across the ground than gallops, almost like a bunny with unfurled wings and an oversized horn. You feel your heart warming over the tiny filly all over again.

Once Tia is out of sight, it is only you, Lucky, and Anonymous sitting in a line overlooking the marketstead. Lucky Favor’s demeanor suddenly changes as she excitedly chitters, “Anonymous, do you remember what you told me last night, about your pay? I believe this may be a good chance for you to make amends with Tia.”

You blink. You do find it strange that Tia has been avoiding Anonymous, but why would Lucky be bringing that up now?

”We can focus on that later,” Anonymous says neutrally, confirming your confusion.

”But Anonymous, I can clearly see the bakery!” Lucky says as she once again points her hoof towards the marketstead like a filly pointing out her favorite treat. “It’s on the way back from the thomery! It’s in the perfect spot!”

”Lucky, neither of us know what you’re talking about.”

”Tia’s favorite treat is cake!” Lucky grins victoriously, peering over Anonymous’ shoulder to make sure Tia is nowhere in hearing distance. “I believe that if Riverside could buy one from that bakery, you could present it to Tia.”

Lucky Favor turns to you hopefully. Anonymous, meanwhile, is shaking his head in disbelief. “You don’t need to worry about repaying me,” Lucky says. “In fact, you don’t need to repay me for any of these supplies. Just… Please, Riverside, could you do this?”

Is this your chance?

You want to do this. You want to help Anonymous, and you want to show Lucky Favor that you can be relied on with more than just body mending. So why do you feel so uneasy about it?

”For fuck’s sake, Lucky,” Anonymous suddenly growls. “We’re not getting the cake.”

”What?!” Lucky throws her hooves up. "Why not?!”

“I-I can do it, Anonymous,” you breathe.

”Tia would really like it,” Lucky pleads earnestly. “Anonymous, it wouldn’t be more than an extra five minutes and a few doits.”

”Do you not realize how dangerous all of this is without the fucking cake?” Anonymous snaps. You flinch at the human’s tone, but Lucky Favor doesn’t even bat an eye. She only frowns, scrunching her muzzle in disappointment. Anonymous sighs, shaking his head before turning to you. His voice is soft as he speaks. “It’s already risky enough. Every second in there is a second that can go wrong. Just the thome and the map, then get out of there, Riverside.”

You take a moment, but soon nod at his words. It’s true, you would rather get this over with sooner rather than later, but…

…You really want Anonymous to know he can count on you. You want everypony to know they can count on you.

”Alright, fine,” Lucky Favor says. She clears her throat before turning to you. “I lost myself for a moment there. I apologize, Riverside. That was selfish of me to suggest. You are already doing so much.”

“No, it’s…” you start, but find no words. You simply nod, desperately wanting to start already.

There isn’t much to do in terms of preparations. After removing half of its original value, Lucky Favor hoofs you a bag of 300 doits, which you attach to the string on your hip. Anonymous crosses his arms and paces while you pat down your Marestrichtian travelers’ attire, his eyes shifting between glaring at the marketstead and giving you an unreadable look. You don’t miss how cold his eyes are as they inspect you neutrally.

Lucky absolves Max from her banishment, and soon the both of you are making your way towards the marketstead.

Max doesn’t say much, besides a simple, “Signal me if you need help,” before she gives a flap of her wings and ascends into the air. You watch the pegasus’ light colors blend in with the canvas above, a lime-green dot in the sea-blue sky, before she eventually touches down on a cloud above.

As Max is separating a suitable perch from the cloud, you hear a voice suddenly pipe up from behind.

"Riverside!” Lucky calls out as she slows to a stop. You flick around to see the white unicorn approaching, panting from her sudden departure. Had she forgotten something?

Surprisingly, though, Lucky gives you a bow of her head. “I wanted you to know that I really appreciate this,” she says. “And I bid you well. I don’t think I made that clear before you left. And I'd like to apologize once again about the... cake incident. I forgot how uncomfortable this all is for you.”

Lucky turns upwards and back to you. Her cyan eyes are genuine, brimming with determination. You open your mouth to respond, but Lucky beats you to it. “I understand I'm coming off as a bit...” she starts, before thinking carefully about her next words. “…Irritable. Not jealous. I am most certainly not the jealous type."

It clicks for you.

All this time, Lucky Favor’s attitude towards you had been distant. It’s no wonder, when you look at Anonymous, Max Gusto, and even you. Tartarus, you’ve felt these very feelings when you were a filly! How could you have not seen this before?

”So…” Lucky hesitates, tapping her hooves together. “…May the Ancient Lady of Serendipity smile upon you, Bountiful Riverside.”

Your lips pull into a smile you can’t hope to fight against. You give Lucky Favor – your new Sachemare – a bow once again. “Thank you, Lucky Favor,” you say warmly. Lucky’s smile mirrors your own until you continue to speak. “If you have any questions about growing into yourself, I would be happy to help. You need only ask.”

Lucky Favor blinks. “…Pardon?”

“To become more muscular!” you say. “It is true that you are the skinniest of the bunch. But that can change with a good diet and proper exercise. I will be happy to explain further once we are back on the road.”

You feel silly, having not recognized Lucky’s insecurity sooner. It seems so obvious in hindsight, being the leader of her group, yet also the least physically imposing. Her sullen attitude she had sent your way when Anonymous was studying your body must be confirmation.

”…Th--” Lucky stammers, her eyes shrunken to pinpricks and scarlet invading her face. “…Th-THAT’S NOT--! I--! UGH!”

Lucky lets out a grating groan of exasperation before turning tail and stomping away from you, back to the misty confines of her wagon.

…Oh.

Fighting back the burning at your cheeks, you turn back to the marketstead. Max is now perched on her little slice of a cloud, her snow white tail hanging inconspicuously off its edge. Using the pegasus as an anchor of security, you double check the doit bag on your hip, adjust the furry collar of your jacket, and begin marching toward the marketstead.

Map of the coastline. Ambient mass-magic thome. Avoid confrontation.

…Ancients give you strength to not let the magic bring anything up that you’re trying so hard to keep down.

Comments

[DreamRiftSaga]

I'll be completely honest. I'd much rather Anon get with Riverside than Lucky. The latter has absolutely no personality other than 'Likes Anon'. Like She met him for a day then fell madly in love, and now is being an asshole to anyone that shows even remote kindness to the lad. What for, to add some poorly received drama into the story? I like the story, I really do. Hell, most of your characters are written so damn well, especially Max. But Lucky is less than a weak link in it for me. She's just not a good fit and doesn't actually bring anything except being a romantic interest. Hopefully she stops being a shallow asshat in the future, maybe then I'll be okay with her actually being a partner for Anonymous. Sorry, rant over. I'll continue to follow the story for now.

[AnOnyxPolygon]

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I'm gonna have to disagree on that. It isn't any particular thing that makes me feel that way but... I just of get that impression, y'know? In a lot of respects, Riverside just seems so young and inexperienced. Anon seems the type to feel guilty for having a relationship with someone like that. Like he would be exploiting them. I could be reading it wrong, but that's my impression of Anon.

In particular, the line below gives me the idea that he's protective over her in the same way a Father would be, but not a lover.

Anonymous says nothing. His gaze is fixated on you, but it’s nothing like before. His eyes are narrowed and his lips are pursed. The look he gives you now reminds you of your blood father.

It makes sense, considering he does nearly the exact same thing's with Tia as he does with Riverside. The difference is the lack of mention of it by members of his party, which he would undoubtedly reject as heresy. Despite this, I will admit that Riverside's enamoring with Anon's image is almost identical to how Faust first came to view Anon in the first two chapters, so it could go anywhere.

And I don't think Faust is that annoying of a character. Frustrating for sure, and I loathed her actions when they were at the Red Garden, but she's been far more reasonable of a character since then. The whole relationship between Anon and Faust isn't unexpected either. Their whole early relationship was that idea of an Unstoppable Force meeting an Immovable Object. The difference is that the Unstoppable Force got smitten with the Immovable Object at some point and now things are awkward and uncomfortable. Anon just seems the far more unwilling party to connect with her. Mind you, I think his stubbornness here is characteristic of him, but that doesn't remove the fact that Faust is the one trying to initiate recompense. Hell, this chapter and the last literally ended on her trying to fix things. She's paranoid, but I wouldn't call her shallow. In fact, her paranoia isn't even very unreasonable, considering her circumstances.

But this is me talking out my ass here. Maybe I got the impression that Faust fell short mostly due to situational issues, and that her and Anon are actually have a lot more potential synergy than Riverside and Anon would, but that is also all reliant on my perspective thus far. I've always been willing to play devils advocate, and that might be all this was. For now though, I'd just prefer Anon and Faust getting figured out over Anon and Riverside. I think I'll have a much clearer picture when we touch back on what kind of bond Riverside and Anon formed when he had to be mended. That's really the only significant thing we're missing in this pseudo-search for Anon's Love.

[Spooples]

10974356
10974709
I love this kind of criticism and discussion. Thank you both. I'll be keeping both of your comments in mind going forward

[Max hunter]

Yay... an update.

[ArcherStern]

”Nope,” Max says in your fur. “You’re my friend, and friends hug, so we shall hug. Now hug.”

Cute. Hard to deny.

[RageCake]

Gotta say I absolutely adore Max and Riverside

[Prince Jules Moonshade]

Fairly good story so far I feel ya could add a little more depth to Lucky/Faust. Maybe do more with her hobby of painting or something cause right now she just seems to be a jealous mare pinning for anon and thus being slightly cold to the others. Anyways I shall keep reading an i can’t wait for more.

[Arcfoxx]

this is solid gold and just like any greedy human..i want more *puppy dog eyes* pweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeae!!!

[ObsPerson]

Oh ho ho Riverside. So blissfully naive.

[Moon Lite]

[Lucky throws her hooves up. Why not?!”]
Missing an opening quotation there.

[Amos Anon]

In stark contrast to your inner ship, though, mist surrounds your group.

Heh. Inner ship.

[Amos Anon]

You feel silly, having not recognized Lucky’s insecurity sooner. It seems so obvious in hindsight, being the leader of her group, yet also the least physically imposing. Her sullen attitude she had sent your way when Anonymous was studying your body must be confirmation.

Oh, riverside, you certainly aren't disproving the "oblivious earthpony" stereotype, are you?

[PinkDragonJr]

Bountiful Backside, i mean Riverside, has joined the party.

[Lunar Sentry]

So... is the thing they are traveling on a chariot or a ship? Like, does it travel by land or sea? I ask because the thing seems to change from a rolling chariot to a rocking ship at sea from what I gather... im supper confused about that, also tome is written tome not thome from what I know. I guess you confusing it with thesaurus? Thesaurus does have that "th" :3

[Artillery]

11350045
The wagon they are using I believe is similar to a Victorian Era carrage, essentially a big box on wheels. Chariot is just another way of saying wagon and the ship of the waves bit is a metaphor for the moment of the wagon as it's driving.