A faint legend of fortune brings a band of misfits together for an adventure.
After joining forces and spending nearly all of their fortune buying equipment for an expedition, three misfits change their plans and turn the expedition into an adventure, hoping to get back at least some money from it.
This frankenstein monster went through many, many rewrites before I ultimately decided that it'll never be what I wanted it to be.
There are self-inserts, things that don't make any sense (not in an intentional way) and for some reason, conventional firearms.
The story was supposed to be about a band of misfits getting together and unintetionally given a quest to find four pocket dimensions with worlds that shouldn't exist, taking one artifact from each and ultimately destroying all of them. Now, the problem was that all four were magical and incurred various penalties upon the user. Think of Frodo from Lord of the Rings carrying not one, but four rings.
So yeah, that was the plan.
If anyone wants to do something with that idea, feel free to do so, but PM if you want more details. I'll gladly help you.
"Please be sunday... " I yawned as I woke up to the sound of my alarm clock. It was another of those days when you wake up tired even though you obviously slept more than eight hours. My hooves slightly spasmed, as if not warning me to get up, which I did anyway. Taking a gander at the calendar, I found out it was monday and let out a sigh. After briefly lamenting my long shift and running my hoof through my messy mane, I walked out of the room and headed into the bathroom, intending to take a shower.
Some may think for a stallion, I should keep an eye out for my looks but no, I don't do that. I kinda live by the saying 'don't judge a book by its cover'. I intentionally left myself with the most basic look so that others could pay attention to my actions, not my looks. Keeping both my tail and mane ungroomed, as usual, I went into the kitchen and had breakfast. I wasn't the best cook there was, but I preffered eating something that I cooked by myself, rather than paying for a pie of questionable content or wait hungry in a restaurant. Full of energy, I put on my doctor's coat and went to work.
As a graduate of Manehattan's High School of Medicine, I work as a surgeon at the Ponyville clinic, solving cases both small and big. They range from hooves impaled by fishing hooks or broken bones to the much more severe - gun wounds. Ever since Mr. Colt and Hooveson invented gunpowder and weaponry to make use of it, ponies with those wounds started appearing at the hospital. I can't judge their inventions since guns were a by-product of them and were not what they were hoping for, but I have to say the world and most notably Equestria, would be better off without them.
They might have brought a revolutionary innovation into the military but from my view of a doctor, they also brought new, drastic ways of how one's life can be ended. Smaller, handle-shaped ones can only be bough after waiting three months and taking numerous tests, while the bigger ones are available exclusivily to the Royal Guard and aforementioned military. For a kingdom so rich, I expected them to focus more on trade, rather than on security.
Keeping my thoughs to myself, I greeted my fellow colleagues and bought them coffee. They thanked me and told me about a few events that happened during the weekend, boasting about how much fun they had. Since I had nothing interesting to say, I signed myself for duty and waited for patients to arrive at the hospital. While other mondays always had a few ponies carried to the clinic for intensive care, this one seemed silent and as hours passed by, I was to think that for once, ponies paid attention and not injured themselves during the weekend. Just when I though of how great this day would be, two soldiers showed up to prove me wrong.
The first soldier was carrying his superior and by the way they they walked, it was apparent his superior was not at all happy about it. He kept sliding his hooves along the floor in an attempt to stop him, but the private kept doing what he though was right for his general and kept walking towards me. As they came to a halt, the general let out a bloody cough.
"What are you looking at, greyface?!" shouted the private at the top of his lungs, barely being able to hold the general's weight. "Can't you see this is an emergency?" The general let out a painful moan and his hooves started to go numb. Inspecting him, I found a set of gun wounds on his back, some of them rather deep. Judging by the blood dripping from his mouth, one or both of his lungs were hit and if what I though was true, he must have lost a lot of blood getting to the hospital.
"I'm going to have to ask you to keep your voice down and not insult the personal of this clinic." I stated steadfastly, keeping a stone face. "Secondly, I'm going to need you to carry your teammate to the operation hall and explain what exactly has happened." The private groaned angrily and carried his wounded superior into the the operation hall, under my guidance. However, instead of doing like I told him, the private just put his colleague on the operation table and then left without a single word. I have little to no interest in military but was hoping his inferior had at least some respect and stayed with his injured general.
The nurses in the room quickly prepared all the neccessary tools, most notably various anaesthetics and scalpels. With my help, we slowly turned the general so that his back would be facing us and begun giving him various medication. First, we opened his vest up with surgical scissors and then gave him a dose of strong anesthetics. When I heard him exhale and saw his heart rate slow down, we were on the right track to continued with the operation.
One of the nurses handed me a bottle of clinical alcohol and I used it to clean the wound up. Instead of seeing the regular hole left by a bullet, there were many, many small ones as well as big ones. I was shocked as I had never seen a wound like that but decided to continue with the operation anyway. I took my pliers from the nearby table with the intention to take the small bullets out but something unexpected happened.
The screen showing his heart rate let out an alarming sound and the numbers quickly jumped to those of an awoken pony. His front left hoove slightly moved and shortly after, his whole body did as well, as if insisting to stay awake. I quickly gave him another dose of anaethetics but they were of no apparent use, as his hooves started flailing around frantically, knocking some of the nearby equipment.
"I... don't need... help..." uttered the general, intending to stand up. A nurse's hooves starting shaking, her irises shrank to the size of a pebble and with a loud cry, she ran outside of the operation hall, proclaiming this place a madhouse. Truth be told, she was new to the clinic and unlike me, wasn't used to seeing various out of the ordinary medical situations. I looked at the other mare and was given an unsure look, as if she was asking me a yes-or-no question. Holding the general pinned to the table with my hooves, I nodded and the nurse took out leather braces out of one of the shelves. Rarily used, they were the equivalent of fighting fire with fire and thus, were the last resort of any surgeon.
"Let me go!" shouted the stallion, still desperately trying to escape. Unfortunately, his attempts were so desperate, that instead of letting us treat his wound and use braces as a replacement for anaesthetics, he punched my assistant while she was attaching the second brace and with just a single punch, managed to bring her down to the ground, as well as break her nose. I gasped at the sight, unable to believe that one of my patients just did that. At this point, any normal doctor had two choices - call in more doctors or do something regretful, such as using violence. Instead of any of the two variants, I did something no other doctor would have done - listen to his patient. I loosened his brace, letting him thrash around and fall from the operation table.
"Feeling better?" I asked, kneeling down to him. "You've just punched one of my colleagues while we were performing a delicate operation. An operation that would help you." The general tried to stand up but failed once more. His hooves were againts his every command and appeared to be at war, constantly putting one another in their way.
"I didn't ask for any help." he uttered, still desperately trying to get up. "Private Jenkins hauled me here againts my command." The nurse slowly got up and left the hall without a single word, possibly to get her nose fixed. Unlike stallions, they couldn't stand having an imperfection or wound on their face. One of my colleagues doesn't even have a nose, so to speak. He's the janitor, though.
"As a doctor, I can't let you walk around with holes in your back." I said, standing up to prepare more anaesthetic doses. "Please get back on the operation table." I watched in humor as the general finally stabilized his chicken hooves and stood upright.
"And I, as a general of the Royal Army," uttered the general, making a movement similiar to skating to reach the door. "tell you that I'm fine." As expected, he fell facefirst to the ground, barely moving from his position. In the meantime, I was preparing an extra-heavy dose of anaesthetics, powerful enough to put down a stallion for half a day.
"You probably don't feel anything now," I objected, helping the general up. "but once the lead from the pellets gets into your bloodstream, sooner or later, you'll die of lead poisoning." I let that sink and added. "And believe me, unlike other poisons, dying from lead poisoning is very, very painful. Patients who almost died from it, said that they felt their skin trying to peel itself from their muscles and their blood boiling. And those are just the reported symptoms."
"Big bucking deal..." objected the general, still intending to leave the clinic untreated. "I'll sew my skin together and drink cold water. If it's a risk, it's a risk I'm gonna freakin' take." I sighed, seeing the general was one of those brave patriots who would rather die than to have their wounds healed. They all end up broken stallions, with bodies and mind scarred and in their hearts nothing but pain and hate. But he was still my patient and since I didn't want him to die, I had to play a few notes on those strings.
"What would Celestia say of a soldier," I said in an official-sounding tone, gesticulating. "who, instead of continuing to fight for justice, died because of his own pride and unwillingness to have his wounds treated? Would she still honor him as the others who valiantly fought againts evil and died heroes, among their friends?" The general was speechless and stared at me, mouth agape. He tried saying a few words but none of them got through. Unable to find anything wrong with what I just said, he sighed, his patriotism defeated.
"I don't say this often," he said in a somewhat sad tone. "but you're right. She wouldn't honor that soldier and instead, call him a failure, forever to be forgotten as just another brick in the wall." The general slowly got up and instead of heading for the door, went for the operation table and with my help, laid back on it.
"It's not a shame for a soldier to admit being hurt." I said, taking the syringe of anaesthics, ready to use it. "One wound won't end your career." I was about to give him the dose but grabbed the hoove I had it in, making me drop it.
"Don't bother with that stuff." he explained. "I'm resistantant to it." Since he insisted and even assured of his resistance to anaesthetics, I picked up the syringe, put it on the nearby table and offered him a small wooden stick. Since I assumed he wouldn't want his screams of pain to be heard all around the clinic, I though he accept this alternative and bite into it to ease the pain.
"Nah, just please get over with it." he said, wishing to be operated without any painkiller. Not questioning his decision, I took my bottle of clinical alcohol, prongs and begun.
It went suprisingly well and to even more to my suprise, the general didn't let out a single sound. Not even the stitching made him uneasy and instead, he kept a stone face for the whole time of the operation. Bandaging his back, I was proud of myself and was glad that it went so smoothly.
"Appreciate it, doc." said the general and stood up from the operation table, his hooves firmly under his command. "I owe you one."
"Please, call me Richard." I said with a small smile. "If the 'one' is beer, I think I'll pass." Beer was one of my old friends but was allowed only on after-shift friday and saturday. The rest of the days sadly required me to be at my top condition, not tolerating any kind of mistakes.
"Richard, eh?" he asked. "My name's Shadow Flamehoof. Thanks for making my holiday less about having a bullet-ridden back and more about more doing what I like. You sure you don't drink beer?" Well, at least someone's holiday was nice. Last time I was on one, all of my colleagues kept posting me mail, not giving me the slightest pinch of rest. Yet, when I asked one of them for help when they were on a holiday, he told the mailstallion or mailmare to not give him my mail and even paid them for not delivering it.
"Only on after-shift fridays and saturdays." I replied sadly. "As much as I would like to get drunk on other days, I can't. These guys need me at my best or they'll freak out. And if none of them do, my boss would fire me." Four more days. Four more days and I'll have a big, cherry-flavoured beer, just like the ones they used to make in Manehattan.
"Oh... So if you don't plan on getting drunk," said Flamehoof, pointing at the door. "can you at least have a bet with me?" Well, I didn't spend much and had a considerable amount in savings. Why not?
"Sure." I answered. "As long as you have bits." I had no idea how much were generals or other soldiers earning, but it must have been a lot, lot more than just a doctor like me. He slowly opened the door and a nurse was standing outside, the same one he punched but with her nose fixed. She didn't seem very happy about seeing any of us.
"See that nurse over there?" Flamehoof pointed his hoove at her, ignoring that she could hear and see him.
"What do you want with Nurse Redheart?" I asked him, wandering what sort of sinister plan he had in mind. The nurse just shook her head and went about her own business, walking to the other part of the hallways she was on.
"A hundred bits that I'll get into bed with her." said Flamehoof daringly. This is not the kind of bet I was hoping for, but to at least make it less certain for the unfortunate mare, I though of something.
"I bet a thousand that you won't." I objected, knowing someone as noble as Nurse Redheart wouldn't lay with someone she barely knows.
"Deal. Meet me at the pub tonight." Flamehoof shaked his hoof with me and went to try his luck. Not paying attention to his little romance attempt, I continued with my shift only to see them leave together. Well, guess I should get those bits...
After finishing my everlasting shift, I wrote a hefty check and made my way into the only pub in Ponyville. Upon going inside, my nose immediately picked up the smell of alcohol, blood and other things I couldn't idenfity. A collapsed drunkard was laying on the floor, occassionaly trashing about, as if wanted to be noticed. Despite the size of the pub and all the ponies in it, no one noticed him and one of the staff members just told others to completely ignore him. I brushed past him and saw a familiar face sitting at a nearby bar table, with a lot of shot glasses on it. It was Flamehoof and by his shaky movements, it was more than apparent that he was quite drunk.
"You celebrating?" I asked as I sat on the bar stool next to him.
"Yep." He uttered, causing me to let out a sigh and put a check on the table. Flamehoof gazed at it oddly, as if expecting a large pile of bits. Since hauling a thousand coins would be quite hard, I chose an alternative - a check allowing him to get them from a bank.
"What's that?" He asked, oddly gazing at the greenish piece of paper.
"You didn't expect me to haul a bag of coins, did you?" I asked him and he took the check, disappointed.
"Well, at least that'll cover some things up." He said, raising his hoove to get another round. "One for my friend too." The bartender gave both us a shot of an unknown beverage and Flamehoof immediately drunk his in just one go. He shook his head, exhaled and then put the glass to the table with the rest of them.
"I... I think I'll be going now." I stuttered. Not matter how many shot glasses would he order for me, I just can't allow myself to get drunk today. Not until friday at least.
"Hey, where you goin'?" he asked, his drunkedness now more apparent with his voice. "Don't you wanna hear how well it went with ol' Nurse Redflank?" I have no idea why he called her like that, but I didn't want an explanation and instead of waiting for more of his mumbling, I got off the bar stool.
"No." I answered and went for the door. As I left, I heard him spew curses to the other ponies at the bar, going as far as insulting Redheart's various body parts. As I polite pony, I won't bring myself to say any of them but if that's how soldiers act all the time, Celestia save us all. Slamming the door belonging to the pub as I left, I promised myself to never make bets with someone who clearly knew what he was doing.
Finally reaching my house, I made the decision to cook something for dinner and then take a rest after all this long day. Opening the door, I saw small splinters of glass, yet none of the windows appeared to be shattered on the first floor. Putting my coat on the coat hanger, I followed the trail of glass, finding my kitchen completely devastated, with what looked like remains of pie filling sprayed on the walls. I sighed, thinking this was just a joke by some filly. Ponyville was, after all, full of fillies with rather curved perception of what's supposedly funny.
"Hello?" I asked. "Is anyone there?" I didn't get a response but I heard a bunch of hoovesteps heading from the stairs, almost as if someone was running away. Keen on catching this tresspasser, I walked out of the kitchen and headed towards them through the hallway. Running upstairs, I saw something cyan quickly rush into my room. A bit unnerved, I approached the door knob, twisted and slowly opened the door. My room was a mess, with many shelves out of their places, sheets torn and worst of all - a broken window. I gasped at the sight, unable to understand why someone would do such I thing. Wanting to clean this mess at once, I made a step but stopped immediately after I heard a click behind me.
Slowly turning around, I saw a blue mare aiming my pistol at me. It was a last resort to drive off any thiefs who would wander into my house, but seeing it in the hands of one made me question my tool of self-defense. The mare's mane was messy, with leaves and small branches sticking out and her eyes looked as if they barely rested. Her cyan mane was peppered with glass, with bigger chunks dug deeper into her blue coat. She appeared to be in pain, yet, instead of asking for help, was now holding me at gunpoint.
"Don't move!" she uttered in a hostile manner, holding the gun aimed at my head, her hoove shaking. Since a bullet through the brain is always considered fatal, I had to think of another way to resolve this situation.
"I'm not going to hurt you." I said, taking a step forward. Her hooves shook a bit but she still kept her gun aimed at me.
"Stay back! The Great and Powerful Trixie knows the ponies of Ponyville only mean harm!" she uttured, ready to pull the trigger.
"Oh, really?" I asked, eyebrow raised. "You're the one who broke into my house, vandalized it and wants to kill me." I waited for a while to let that sink in and then added "You've got here through the window, didn't you? As far as I'm concerned, you have no problems with leaving through it. Do you?"
"That's none of your concern!" shouted Trixie. "The Great and Powerful Trixie found your food supplies apetizing but needs shelter!" Of all the houses near the forest, she had to choose mine. There really wasn't anything special to it, really. It was just a house like any other.
"If you wanted to visit me, I would treat you as a guest." Trixie let out a maniacal laugh. "But as any other thief, you are not welcome here and I insist that you leave." A lot of ponies would probably think of something to counter her gun or pounce at her and take the risk. I chose a diplomatic way, hoping all of this can be solved peacefully.
"Do you not see Trixie has the upper hand?" she asked proudly, lifting her head up.
"Well then, what are you waiting for?" I asked daringly, taking another step forward. "Pull the trigger, I dare you. Let everyone know how low you've gotten and give them a reason to hunt you down. Is that what you want?" Trixie's eyes opened wide and her irises shrunk to the size of small dots after she heard me say 'give them a reason'. The hoove holding her weapon suddenly became very heavy and she could feel it lower down, before doing so herself. Her irises returned to their normal size after blinking and she lowered her head in shame.
"Trixie... I... I can't do it." she said sadly, her eyes having a white gloss to them. "I'm not a murderer." Approaching her, she handed me the weapon all by herself and I put it on the nearby drawer, intending to keep it there.
"Leave." I said coldly, ignoring those sad eyes. "Now."
"But... I... I don't have a place to go to." she replied sadly, tears in her eyes. "Please... I'll clean all this mess up..." I delved into my thoughs, trying to find a reason why I should have someone so troubling at my house. Logic and wisdom kept telling me to make her to leave for causing all that mess, while my heart begged me to use it, just this once. It kept repeating 'do not allow her to come into harm's way', using my oath as a doctor againts me, almost as if mocking it. Ultimately, I ended the battle of the mind with a sigh, about to say something which I would probably regret.
"It's alright." I uttered, having a small smile on my face. "You can stay." Hugging me, she started crying tears of joy, glad that of all the citizens of Ponyville, I was on her side. Well, sort of. I never understood showmares and ponies that showed off, but she appeared to have lost her ego somewhere in the Evertree Forest, using the last of it to threaten me. Her silent, muffled crying went on for a couple of minutes and during that, she buried her head in my chest, causing me to blush sligthly.
"I'm sorry." she said as she lifted her head up and let go. "I... I don't even know your name." Her crying stopped but her eyes still had that red tint to them.
"Richard Domitz or just Richard." She now gave me an odd look, as if curious about something. I have to admit my name does sound a little... exotic.
"Rich Art Dome is what?" she asked, most certainly having mishead my name. Instead of correcting her, I sighed, knowing that names aren't as important at actions.
"Nevermind." I uttered. "I'm just the stallion who owns this house and will help you clean the mess you made. Let's get to it, shall we?" Trixie nodded but instead of starting the cleaning right away, I asked her if I can at least have a look at her wounds and treat them if neccesary. She hesitated at first, thinking they were nothing but after telling her the alarming number of them, she gladly agreed.
After ten minutes worth of glass extracting, desinfections and bandaging, I took care of her wounds and instead of our plan to clean the house together, I told her to wait for me in the kitchen while I clean the house by myself. While patching up the window with cloth and nailing it to it's frame, I got the idea for us to cook something together for dinner but she didn't really appreciate the idea. Instead, after returning to my room after all those chores, I saw her lying in my bed, sleeping.
"She must be very tired... " I though to myself. "Well, better leave her be." Quietly walking out of the room, I took my reserve bed sheets, a pillow and took refuge in the only object that could be slept on moderately well - a couch. Covering it the sheets, I too, took a nap and drifted into the land of dreams. Or, like the few unfortunate stallions, the land of no dreams and absolute darkness.
On the following day, I got up to a crunching sound under my hoove and much to my suprise, it was my alarm clock, demolished. It took me a few seconds to recall what exactly happened yesterday and why am I sleeping on the couch but it came back to me rather quickly.
"Uh oh..." I said cautiosly, remembering I forgot to turn it off in the first place. Suddenly out of nowhere, I caught a mysterious smell and boldly followed it into the kitchen. There, I saw Trixie preparing a vegetable soup, looking fit as a fiddle.
"Oh, you're finally awake." she said and looked at me with a smile. "Sorry about the alarm clock, I may have gotten a bit... angry when it woke me up."
"Trixie, what time is it?" I asked, hoping I won't be late for work. "Was it seven when it woke you up?" Trixie stopped stirring the soup and put the ladle on the sideboard. She then propped her head with her hoove and started thinking.
"Hmm... I think it was ten minutes after seven." I exhaled, happy to know that I'm not so late. "A couple of hours has passed since then, though. Why are you asking?" A jolt of adrenaline filled my veins and my blood pressure became that of an athlete about to win a golden medal. I left behind a smoke silhoutte and sprinted to hall, quickly putting on my doctor's coat.
"I'm late for work!" I exclaimed, leaving the house and galloping to the other side of town. My only hope of keeping my job was the forbearance of my boss.
After a minute of running and a quarter of an hour of walking, I finally arrived at the clinic, sweaty like a laborer. Instead of signing myself to duty like I normally do and take a longer shift to make up for the lost hours, I approached the boss' office. I gulped, knowing that this where my career ends and shakily opened the door.
"Ah, Mr. Domitz." said my boss in a calm, yet sociopathic sounding tone. "Please, come inside." I slowly went inside and closed the door behind me, embracing the darkness in the dimly lit office. Infront of me was the him, sitting behind his ivory table and infront of it, a chair that barely held together.
"Mr. Domitz, please have a seat." I reluctanly sat on the chair, hoping it wouldn't collapse under my weight. "Now, tell me, do you know what's the most important thing during an operation?" I searched deep into my thoughs and then gave him an answer.
"Precision and the right medication." I assured him. "Without those, every operation is doomed to fail." The boss let out a small laugh and then fully lit the room, causing me to flinch a bit and wait for blurring to go away.
"Maybe your eyes and hooves are precise and your mind remembers what medication to use, but," he lectured me, keeping a hoove infront of him. "do you know what else matters?" I sat firmly on the chair, though for a while and then shook my head.
"N-no, sir." I stuttered. If medication and precision aren't the most important things, what sort of things are the most important? Before I could at least guess, my boss put a small, silver stopwatch on his table.
"Time and the right timing is above all of those, but the others play a significant role too." he lectured me once more, opening the watch and showing me the small droplets of blood that were near some of the numbers. "Precision not so much, but give someone the wrong meds at the wrong time, operate too soon or too late and you've got yourself a problem. A big one." I noticed it was stopped exactly at eight, the exact time my shift was supposed to start.
"Sir, I'm sorry, I-" I tried to explain why exactly I didn't start the daily shift like I was supposed to, but he cut me short.
"Overslept?" he asked, his voice starting to shift to that of anger. "I had to quickly contact a failed trainee surgeon and get him to do your job. And you what? He got here sooner AND did it better. That's why I'm so pissed. A failed graduate did the same job as a guy who graduated as the youngest of his class. You're worthless to me. WORTHLESS!" With each sentence, I died a little inside and after the final open, it was apperent I have come to my career's own funeral.
"I... I don't wanna go..." I said sadly, thinking of all the lives I saved during my two-year tenure. Now, for the one and only mistake I have ever done during that time, it was all gone.
"That's my not problem, you slowpoke!" he shouted. "If you got here at the right time, you'd still have your job! YOU'RE FIRED!" Without a single word, I left the room, finding the whole clinic on the hall. Some of them laughed at me finally leaving, while others were indifferent to the boss' decision. Then there was Nurse Redheart, who, instead of letting me brush past, gave me a big hug.
"I don't understand." I uttered, curious as to why the mare involved in a dirty bet hugged me. "Why are you hugging me?"
"Because thanks to you, I spent some time with a stallion." she answered me. "Not anything special as he's probably shouting all around the pub, but nevertheless, it was special to me." I wasn't the one who would about intimate relationships but if they didn't sleep together, what did they do?
"If you didn't... um... do the thing, what did you do?" I asked sheepishly. After all, it all happened because I agreed on a bet.
"Oh, old school stuff." she answered, smiling, with a blush on her cheeks. "Rose petals, wine, candles... All went well until he accidentally burned down my house. After that, we just agreed to get drunk together. Thanks to the bet however, I could buy the nearby, small house immediately. So yeah, you deserve a hug for that." I smiled briefly and then remembered my fate.
"Well, it was nice being stuck with all of you for two years." I said, looking at the rest of the clinic personal and giving them a bow. "I knew I was never a good friend or a perfect doctor, but I did what I could do best. I know none of you care anyway, but I'll miss every single one of you."
"I'll miss you too..." said Nurse Redheart, saddened and after those words, I left the clinic. What looked like just a reason for an extended shift ended with me being unemployed. I hope this is the only bad thing that happens today.
Upon arriving back home, I saw Trixie sitting behind the kitchen table, eating soup and reading some sort of book. I put my coat back on my coat hanger and sat at the table.
"Oh, you're back." she said, turning her attention from the book and soup. "Well, how did it go? Do you still have your job?" She put a spoon next to my bowl of soup and I picked it up, only to put it back to on the table.
"Lost it. My boss called me a worthless and fired me." I said, picking up the spoon again and started eating the soup. "Took in a failed trainee while I was home sleeping and gave him my job." Trixie gasped, nearly choking on the soup.
"Just like that?!" she exclaimed. "That brattish son of a-!"
"Hey, calm down." I uttered. "At least he didn't literally throw me out like the last guy who gave him his idea during a meeting. His only luck was that he could fly." Perhaps it wasn't the best time to put my clinic to shame by talking about all the horrible overreactions of my boss, but hey, I didn't work there anymore. Might as well write them down and sue him.
"Biscuit! I wanted to say biscuit!" she exclaimed once more, dropping her spoon into the soup. "I mean, this was your only mistake, right?" I nodded, almost finished with the vegetable soup. "That's just.. mean. Not mean in a laughable way, but just outright evil."
"You sure know how to cook." I said, complimenting her. "What's that you're reading anyway?" It wasn't uncommon for a chef to read a cooking book while eating his own work. Meals had to have a specific taste and if it was wrong, the chef did something wrong.
"This?" she showed me the book with her magical levitation. "Predictions and Prophecies. The name is kind of misleading, though. There are a few more obscure legends too." Wait, wasn't the book Twilight Sparkle indirectly used to fight Nightmare Moon? I don't remember buying or borrowing it from someone, let alone have it in my house.
"Obscure legends?" I asked, curious as to what she might mean. Do obscure mean disputed or not well known by ponies? "Which ones?" Trixie opened the book and opened it at a specific page.
"Well, for example, there's a legend called Four Sisters and it's about-" Her eyes suddenly shrank to the size of a small dot and she closed the book violently, tossing it next to me. "Oh, sorry, I was just seeing things. Made me jump." I cautiously opened the book, curious as to why she threw it.
"What exactly?" I opened the book with my hooves and started browsing through it. "I just see predictions, legends and prophecies. Nothing out of the ordinary."
"Page forty-seven." she answered. "Anything weird?" I quickly turned to the mentioned page but to my disappointment, there was nothing out of the standard. Just the legend Four Sisters.
"I just see the legend. The shortest one in the book, with just eleven sentences." I said, gazing at the text. "Nothing that shouldn't be there." What exactly crept Trixie out? There's nothing scary about books, apart from a few works of questionable quality that I had to read as a student. That was mostly creepiness from utter disgust, though.
"There were just ten when I closed the book." she said in a somewhat anxious tone. "I saw text appearing on it's own and that made me close the book so meanfully. I just... though I was seeing things." As someone who studied science and viewed magic as nothing more than something science can't explain yet, I was more than sure it was just blasphemy.
"Oh please, you must have overlooked the last sentence." I said with a faint smile. "There's no way a whole sentence can-" I immediately stopped and gazed with eyes open wide at the legend. Letters started appearing at the very bottom and the text itself shrunk down a bit to keep itself contained to the book page.
"See?" said Trixie. "I told you!" For no apparent reason, a whole setence materialized itself, ableit written in a completely different manner. The two sentences made up four verses of a poem.
"To find the wrack, start in the back," I recitated the mysterious poem. "seize the frozen top, don't make a drop." What's a wrack? Back how? The rest probaly meant a mountain since most of them have frozen tips, but the first part made no sense whatsover.
"Wrack... wrack." Trixie though out loud. "Oh, right. It must mean one of the four sisters! It's actually a way ponies way up north near the sea call bad mares." Well, that's that, but what about the back part? Does the book require me to time travel?
"Right..." I uttered. "But what about the back part? No unicorn knows time travel." Or at least, not any unicorn I know. If that magic existed, I wouldn't be suprised if one or all of the Princesses knew it. Knowledge is power, right?
"Perhaps it just means to start somewhere where something else started." said Trixie. "Our of all the major events, only one happened lately - the forming of the Elements of Harmony and their bearers. But it's hard to say when it all started. Maybe it was Dash earning her cutie mark or the moment Celestia banished Luna, but I don't really." Suddenly, out of nowhere, it hit me. I knew where it all started.
"Canterlot!" I exclaimed, pointing my hoove in the general direction of the city. "We need scale the nearby mountain!" Trixie was at first confused at to what I meant, but then, it hit her too. It all begun when Twilight noticed the odd star formations and went to investiagate, inadvertly setting course for the events that made her and her friends the bearers of the Elements of Harmony. Canterlot was the place where it all begun.
"But why?" asked Trixie. "Or is that just a suggestion?" I stopped for a moment and thought. I wasn't an adventurous type and yet, after reading vague information, I was bent on getting to whatever secret it pointed at. It seemed rather exciting, though, knowing that I would do something else than just wait for another job application. I just hope I won't have to go back where I came from. Ponyville was a pleasant change and I kinda like it here too.
"Well, since I don't have a job, I thought you and me could, umm... in theory," I said, unable to exactly say what I wanted to. "just purely as a suggestion... um... investigate? Bust or confirm this legend or myth?" I should read the book about talking to mares again. I sounded like a filly trying to ask a freshmare to a date. Why do ponies write such books anyway? They never worked for me. Full o' lies they be.
"Sounds more like a myth, but okay." she answered me. "I really had no idea what to do since you lost your job, but this sounds like a... reasonable way to spend time, plus I don't really think I want to stay at Ponyville. Don't you agree?"
"Y-yes." I stuttered, happy to finally go somewhere with a mare. It wasn't a date or anything even remotely close to it but hey, still better than waiting. Who knows, maybe this will my last chance to spend some time with a mare before... I dunno, another disasterous situation happens.
And so, with some doubts, we set our tomorrow's objective on rearching the top of the mountain. I was the one with the doubts, knowing only a hooveful of legends were confirmed, the most significant being The Mare In The Moon. Trixie on the other hoove kept assuring me that whatever the outcome might be, it's still gonna be a lot of adventure, especially since none of us can climb. Now, where can we find a climbing equipment rental?
We spent the rest of the day playing board games and taking a bite of the occasional snack or two. Or completely empty the whole fridge with no regrets. After all, I had more than enough food already and she still seemed hungry, I guess. I didn't really pay attention to that, but what I did pay attention to was the large losing streak I had after playing with her. How on Equestria is it possibly to roll six on a six-sided dice nine times and win before I even got a turn?! I call watchcraft on that. Last time I played with a unicorn, probably.
However, instead of taking my loss like any other stallion would, I raised the bar and put her versus me in something more difficult - video games. Medical knowledge aside, this was pretty much the area I excelled in, winning several of the hardest games ever made. I didn't score a record time or anything but I beat them, which, in my opinion, is quite a feat. Boasting about myself inside my head and completely ignoring her button presses and combinations, I ended up beaten again, my defeat carried over to nine different games of various genres, from Questria Land to Equine Fighter Alpha 4. Since we played until midnight, I called it quits and went to sleep. She did the same shortly after, shut down the gaming system and I allowed myself to immerse deep into my thoughs and plan something for tomorrow.
On the following day, I woke up at eight but unlike Trixie, I immediately went out and started looking for a shop that has the things we need. However, to hinder my progress, she also required me to get her some sort of disguise since she didn't want anyone to know she was back in town. I sighed, lamenting that I already have hard enough task became even harder, but shrugged it off after a whole hour of no success. It took me an additional two hours to find the shop we needed, but even after that, I was still met with a problem. Apparently, some ponies liked to charge extra if the things were of utmost importance to their customers.
"Sorry, two thousand for a week rental of all the items you listed." proclaimed the white-bearded shopkeeper. "Non-debatable." He smoked his bubble pipe and stroked his beard, as if thinking and then added "Yes, absolutely non-debatable. Take it or leave it."
"Three hundred for one day." I argumented, causing the eyebrow on his dark brown face to raise. "Half now, half when I get back." He shook his head and pointed his hoove at the price list which explicitly said prices are firmly set. It also contained his signature at the bottom, though it was barely readable.
"This is an universal rental shop and in fact, the only one in Ponyville." he lectured me, dusting off the blue shutter shades, which were slowly gathering dust on the nearby shelf, never bought or picked up by anyone. "Everything here is of the highest quality and are certified to not fail their purpose. The prices are firmly set because the previous owner had problems with customers creating custom deals and not paying fully for their rented products." He put the shutter shades on, looked at me briefly and then put them back on their place.
"And what if I want to buy them?" I asked. "Besides, I doubt anyone here would use winter clothing or harnesses at this time of the year. Pickaxes are obsolete too, since the nearest mining town is somewhere in the Badlands and robes are very, very unstylish, even to the taste of the worst-styled ponies of Ponyville." He looked at me oddly, as if he was offended by how useless his wares were in these parts.
"That is untrue." He objected, showing me a book of rentals and giving it to me to read. "All of these things," he placed his hooves arond the rest of the junk he had in the shop. "are used by various ponies. They need them and I need bits." I looked into the book and smiled, going as far as letting out a small giggle.
"But Mr. Smartypants," I mocked him, smiling as I did. "your special book has no record of the items I want being ever rented. So, you are, as a matter of fact, lying to me." I let that sink in, causing him to become angry. Smiling once again, I turned to the last page, which, coincidentally, showed the dates the items were received.
"Get out!" he shouted, grabbing a broom to threaten me and boilling with anger. "GET OUT OF MY SHOP!" I smiled at him and finally took the time to read his name tag. Oldie Brown. Hmm... What a fitting name for a grumpy liar.
"This is fraud, Mr. Brown." I said calmly. "You're giving me the price of something new, while, in fact, all of the items I want are over three years old." I let my words leave my mark and then put the book on the counter, taking a look around. "This is a nice shop. Very nice shop indeed. Wouldn't it be a shame if somepony was notified of your... dirty business and and it was put out of business?" I am not proud for copying and using the same practices as the lawyers use in Manehattan, but just this once, I think they are perfectly justified. Now I just have to wait for that rock-hard ego to snap in half.
"But I... you..." he uttered, pointing at me with the broom and then angrily threw it aside. He gave an angry sigh and ran his hoove through his snow-white mane. "So much for a man wanting to protect his business. You lawdogs always have to show up to mess things up, don't you ?!" He turned to the side and spat on the floor.
"Oh, I am not a lawdog, Mr. Brown." I proclaimed. "I'm just from Manehattan." He gave another annoyed sight and shook his head. Apparently, mentioning one's home wasn't a good idea after all.
"Even worse! The birthplace of all lawdogs!" he said, frowning. "I don't like anywhere from those damned places, just tell me what you want and get out." A real deal, hmm? This just got a lot more interesting.
"Same items, quarter the place." I said, causing the shopkeeper to shout some sort of obscenity. "No one has to know of your little 'secret' and I give you my promise to take it to the grave. I don't know where my proposed journey will take me, but there's one thing to it that should matter to you. If I survive, you get the second quarter, if not, well, at least you'll find happiness in the fact that I'll be dead." The shopkeeper let that run through his head, propping againts his hoove whilst thinking.
"One third now," he said, stooding up from his chair and packing the things up in a compact box. "second third when you get back." Funny how he was a trader who kept proclaiming prices as firm and yet, here he was, attempting to cut a deal with someone who could make could seriously threaten his small business.
"No." I signed, using one of the rarer, yet unused pens to sign a check. "Take it or leave it." The shopkeeper didn't question my decision and just grabbed the check, letting me leave with the things I needed for our expedition. I left as quickly as I arrived, promising myself to never visit that questionable place again.
After arriving back home, Trixie greeted me with a smile and brief hug before wondering if I got all the things we needed. "Well, did you buy everything we need?" she asked, gazing at the box I was carrying. "As well as something for me to hide in?"
"Yes, yes." I assured her, taking the box from my back and putting it on the kitchen table, which was, coincidentally, also the only table in the house. "I had to pull a few strings and make a few screws loose, but I think the result is... great." I slowly opened the box and handed her those old, dusty black robes. She waved them, hoping to get some of the dust off but instead, breathed in some of it.
"How old," she said, coughing. "is this stuff?" From something that's been on a shelve for three years, that's a lot less more dust than I expected, really. This was just a gray cloud.
"I dunno." I answered her, taking the robes from her. "Logs showed three years but it appears to be much, much older than listed." I tried not to breath some of the dust in, but ultimately did, much to my annoyance. Obviously, Trixie couldn't wear something like that.
"What are you gonna do with it?" she asked, noticing my eyes having a reddish color inhaling some of the dust. "Wouldn't I be better with just, I dunno, blankets sewn together?" After hearing that incredible idea, I dropped the robes to the ground and took my best scissors to make the idea come true. I'm not a tailor, but that doesn't mean I can't make things, can I?
After half an hour worth of cutting and sewing my best blankets together, I was finally able to make Trixie's disguise. It wasn't masterfully crafted but pretty much served its purpose. Right after I finished, Trixie grabbed them and put them on and to my suprise, the fitted like a glove.
"This'll do nicely." she said, hiding her face in the robes' hood. "Where have you learned to cut and sew like that?" She moved briefly with the robes, testing if they hold together. Needless to say, they did.
"I didn't, simple as that" I answered her, closing the box on the kitchen table and putting it on my back once more. "Let's get to Canterlot as soon as possible, sooner started means sooner done." Trixie nodded in agreedment and both of us swiftly left the house. Even though we had all the things we needed, I still had doubts whether we'd make it. After all, climbing is not something that's im even remotely acquainted with.
Unfortunately, we walked past the same pub I visited a couple days ago and to my suprise, I once again met with my 'friend', though not conventionally. Someone kicked him out of the pub and he landed near me, standing up and brushing off the dirt off his hooves. He turned around and looked at the pub, cursing the pub, even resorting to spitting. I was puzzled at the fact that he didn't see us, but the rest of his actions were pretty much expected.
"I hate all of ye," he shouted, using a strong southern accent. "ya filthy dirtbags, with beer o' plenty comes responsibilty!" The bartender emerged from the pub and gave an angry look at him, holding an empty bottle as a weapon of sorts.
"See this?" The bartender threw the bottle, but Flamehoof dodged it inches away from his face. "You drank all of it, you-" I'm just going to pretend I didn't hear that. Certainly not words a gentlecolt would use. With their exchange of opinions and slurs, the bartender returned back to the pub and in the meantime, Flamehoof stood up and noticed us. He smiled from one cheek to another but quickly turned to a puzzled look, curious as to who the mysterious pony in white robes could be.
"Who' that?" he asked, gazing at the pony oddly. "Umm... you just passin' by or need my help with somethin'? He brushed more dirt off himself and then tried to smoothen his mane, failing every single time. A classic example of untamable mane. Happens all the time to pretty much everyone.
"Who's the pony beneath the robes isn't important." I proclaimed, turning his attention from Trixie's disguise. "The two of us are going on an expedition to reach the highest mountain's tip. Not sure 'bout her opinion, but I'll be happy to have another one on board. You'll have to get your own climbing equipment though."
"A mare, huh? You little liar!" he said daringly and then remembered something completely different. "Wait just one tiny second... shouldn't you be at work?"
"Actually, no." I uttered. "Overslept once and got fired and replaced. Had Nurse Redheart explain what you two were doing before she said goodbye and wished me the best. She was the only one to do so, but still, it was better than absolutely no one noticing that I'm going." Flamehoof shook his head.
"This is why I hate offices." he uttered. "One strike and you're out, same as when you're a royal guard. But still better than-" Before he could finish, Trixie interrupted him, speaking in a somewhat different voice.
"We are not here to discuss that." she said in a lecturing tone. "The question is simple. You with us or not?" I was slightly suprised by her interruption but she was indeed right. We really needed to get a move on. Time wasn't really all that important, but the feeling is excitement was finally getting to me and I wanted to know what all the fuss mentioned in the poem was all about.
"What's in for me?" he asked, gazing at the small box I carried. I looked at Trixie and nodded, signalling her to use whatever dirty tricks she had in mind. If it's a stupid idea and works, it's not a stupid idea after all.
"More treasure than you could imagine and far more than you could carry." she said in a daring tone, drawing an image of yellow, simple treasure box with her magic. "So... is that a good enough reason to join?" She let that sink in and dispersed the image into yellow dust. "Think," she added. "instead of fighting Celestia-knows-where, because of Luna-knows-what, you could just go into a dusty, old dunguon, dodge a few poison darts and grab the loot."
"Get rich so easily?" he asked. "Okay, what's the catch?" No matter how good the offer is, there's always a catch, like a thief needing to be super-elastic or just be the definition of sexy to get past the guards and whatnot.
"Well," I started explaining, taking out the book, which, despite our bags supposedly. "We only know vague information about the treasure and we aren't even entirely sure it exists." I opened the book at the legend with mysteriously added text and continued. "But I don't know anyone else I would take in for additional help." Flamehoof did a double take at us and started thinking. After a few seconds, he came to a rather suprising decision.
"Chance for treasure is better than no treasure at all" he proclaimed. "I'm going, just for the fun and because you guys look like you can barely carry it anyway." I was about to object his claim, but it was true and I didn't have any real counter-argument. I put the book inside my bag and showed him the contents of the box - three, leather harnesses and three, rusty pickaxes. He let out a giggle.
"Are you serious?" he asked. "Did you pick these things up in a thrift shop?" Well, someone obviously liked new, shiny stuff. Stuff I didn't really want to spend bits on.
"Look, we're not digging a tunnel to Saddle Arabia." objected Trixie, still keeping her altered voice. "One ascent, loot and descent. They'll do just fine." Flamehoof stroked his non-existant beard, as if thinking, and then catiously nodded.
"Fine, fine." he said. "But I have to bring a few more things." Before I could ask what the things were, he vanished from sight and reappeared a few minutes later, armed to the teeth and donning a uniform.
"Guns?" I asked, curiously. "We won't need any guns." Flamehoof's face had an unpleasant grin on his face and he took a shotgun shell from his ammo belt, presenting it to us.
"Better safe than sorry." he persuaded me. "One pull of a trigger and everything between the barrel of my shotgun and ten meters is instantly made into red jelly, no exceptions." I sighed, not believing he was such a gun-nut and little bit of a psycho, too.
"This is far beyond any acceptable defensive measures." said Trixie in a bossy theme. "I beg to differ. There is nothing in those mountains alive or stupid enough to attack something at the top of the food chain." While I agree wholeheartedly, mentioning the food chain was not the smartest argument. After all, there are far stronger beasts living in the forests.
"Please, let's just agree to disagree." I stated. "If he thinks they are needed, let him have his toys, we don't need them." Trixie inhaled, wanting to counter my argument, but instead went silent.
"So..." uttered Flamehoof. "Do you have everything we need to make the ascent?" I nodded and handed him his harness and pickaxe. Flamehoof shook his head in disapproval, telling us we were missing a lot of things still.
It took us another two hours to get the addional items, such as a lot of ropes and warm, winter clothing. Unfortunately, due to that, both me and Flamehoof of us had to spend a lot of our money and even I started hoping for treasure. After all, the differences between my pay and his was very obvious and I needed to pay for stuff, too.
Using our last money, we bought a train ticket to Canterlot and made a very risky bet to get everything back. Trixie, or, the 'mysterious pony', as Conner called her, was completely oblivious to our situation and was just glad to be away from Ponyville. Buried in my thoughs and various 'what-if' scenarios that probably wouldn't happen, I waited for the train to stop, full of both excitement and doubt...