A story about a simple travelling pony’s time in Manehatten
So you want to hear a story, eh? One that involves the threat of global war, a small group of heroes desperately trying to put a stop to that war, a tale of heroes and villains, that kind of thing? Too bad, this isn't that story. Not yet, anyhow. Princess Luna has asked that our adventures be written up for posterity, so that’s what we’re doing now. Hey you ol’ bag of trix, say hi to Posterity for me. Hello Posterity! I don’t know who you are, but hopefully I’ll meet you at some point.
What? Well why didn’t you tell me that before? I thought Posterity was a pony. Well you might as well take that out then. Hold on a sec, what are you writing? Well I know I’m dictating to you, you don’t have to write literally everything I say down. Yeah, exercise some common sense for once. Ok, ok, hypocrite I may be, but still.
Where was I? Ah yes, posterity. Anywho, before I tell you that story, I should probably tell you about Sale Craft first. Now this tale was told to me by his sister over a few mugs of ale when we visited Appleoosa a few months back, and I think is a good way to introduce him. So, without further ado, let me introduce Sale Craft, and tell you the tale of the Madness of Manehatten.
It all begins on the great north road to Manehatten...
It wasn’t unusual for the rain to fall on this particular part of Equestria. In fact the vast forests that climbed up into the hills away from the city stood testament to just how much rain fell in that corner of the world, and that day was no exception. Droplets of water fell onto leaves and trickled down into the undergrowth that nestled in between the mighty trunks. Small paths that weaved their way through the trees lay buried under several inches of mud. Eventually most of these paths joined up into dirt tracks that could almost pass for an uptown spa’s mud bath. To the north of the city, all these tracks met the great Detrot-Manehatten Road, a cobbled road with ditches either side to channel the rain away that cut a swathe through the trees and weaved its way from the city and headed off into the hills heading in the vague direction of the great industrial sprawl of Detrot.
It was the late afternoon/early evening. The streetlamps were on, the city lit up like a mirror image of the starry, starry sky that was hidden behind the gloom of the clouds and rain. On the great Northern Gate of Manehatten, it was almost time for the change of the guard. The rain made its unique tinkling sound as it fell on the helmets and armour of the guardsponies by the gate, the sound amplified as it echoed around the ears of the ponies wearing said helmets. So the light seemingly hovering in mid air, around three feet off the ground, slowly moving out of the trees that they saw first. The singing reached them next.
Oh I’m just a simple travelling colt, My cart hitched to my back. And I’ll travel all over this world, ‘till I’ve been everywhere on my map.
Oh I’m just a simple travelling colt, I sleep under the stars. I enjoy leaning against my cart, Sat right on my arse!
Oh I’m just a simple travelling colt, And I’ve seen all kinds of things. Pegasi with their homes of cloud, And Unicorns with their diamond rings.
Oh I’m just a simple travelling colt, I’ve almost reached my next stop. And when I’m fed and drunk and set up camp To sleep I think I’ll drop!
Presently the light came close enough and illuminated the singer. His body was a dark grey colour, only barely standing out against the surrounding gloom. His dirty orange hair had a streak of red through it, his tail echoing its forward companion. Dark crimson eyes were focused on the ground in front of him, finding a path for his muddy hooves. His double horseshoe cutie mark left none doubting that he was a traveller, as did the cart he pulled at his back, which looked heavily packed under a green tarpaulin.
At the cry of “Halt!” from the gatesponies, he slowly drew to a stop a few yards from the gate. “Howdy folks” he said with a northern accent. “How’s y’all doing this evening?” “State your name and business” came the stern reply. “My name’s Sale Craft. I’ve got a load of steel coming in from Detrot to sell to a buyer in midtown.” The guard poked his spear under the tarp and pulled it up, revealing the silvery gleam of rows of metal stacked up inside the cart. “You might want to let me through sooner rather than later, as I understand it this is for making armour for you boys and the sooner it gets to the buyer, the sooner you get your new armour” Sale Craft continued, hoping to hurry proceedings along. The guards looked at one another, looked at their gold armour, then looked back at the traveller with the universal expression that meant ‘explain or you’re in trouble’.
“You guys don’t know?” Sale began. “Look at your gold armour. Pretty snazzy, I’ll give you that, and nothing looks better on parade. However, do you know just how strong gold is? It’s incredibly weak. You know how ponies bite down on golden bits to check if they’re real or not? Most ponies would assume that if it bends then it’s fake, but in reality the opposite is true. Gold is that malleable that you can bend it easily. It’s why you find field repairs to your armour so easy.”
The Guards looked at each other, but this time there was uncertainty in their eyes, a detail not missed by Sale Craft as he pressed on. “Steel on the other hand may not look so good, and it may be a bit heavier. But even steel armour 5mm thick is one heck of a lot stronger than what you have on there right now, and if you spray it with gold paint, no one’s going to notice the difference. Plus, at 5mm, you could wear warm and comfortable clothes underneath, so you’re not going to chafe as much. So would you like your new toys or would you like to leave me out in this deluge?”
Unsurprisingly, not a minute after he finished his little speech, his papers were stamped, the gates were opened and Sale Craft entered the city of Manehatten.
~
The inn Sale Craft pulled up to was pushed up against the northern wall by the residential areas around it. The Flowing Tap was one of the oldest taverns in the city and was a well known rest stop for anyone passing through the city. The bartender and manager Tempered Scotch was well known to be welcoming to any who passed through the doors of his inn, be they pony, zebra, griffon, small dragon etc. After tying the tarp down tight and setting up the zebrican anti-theft enchantment, Craft plodded slowly up to the main entrance, wiped the grime off his hooves and then went inside.
To say the atmosphere was excitable was to say that Celestia had quite a bit of magic. Ponies of all kinds and sizes were sat around tables, all in various stages of inebriation. The smell of cooked meat could be discerned near a couple of tables of griffons, and there was even a table of changelings playing poker over in a corner. So long as they agreed not to feed off the other patrons, changelings were accepted in Scotch’s place. Sale Craft slowly weaved his way through the cultural melting pot and up to the bar.
“Crafty!” came a sudden call. Flowing Hoof, the barmaid, came hurrying over and practically jumped over the bar and hugged him. A teenage unicorn on Sale Craft’s right wolf whistled, earning himself a smack from Flowing Hoof as she let Sale Craft go and slid back down behind the bar. “Ohmygosh I’ve not seen you in ages Crafty!” she smiled. “How’ve you been? You staying long or just passing through? You have a place to stay while you’re here? Ooh, I’ve not offered you a drink yet! The usual?”
Sale Craft chuckled at Hoof’s rapid fire questions. “I’ve been alright, I’ll be around for a bit, I was going to ask for a room at some point and yes please” he answered, hoping he got it all in the right order. Flowing Hoof reached under the bar, pulled out a pint glass and started pouring a Guinness as a huge griffon came through the door to the kitchen wearing a chef’s hat and carrying a meat cleaver. “Did I hear the name Crafty?” He asked to the bar in general. The bar area fell quiet. “Uh... Hi?” Sale Craft said quietly. The Griffon slowly stalked over, slammed the cleaver into the bar where it stuck quivering, grabbed Sale’s neck and pulled him close so they were muzzle to beak. The bar was still for a few moments. The Guinness started to overflow. The tension grew for a few seconds.
Suddenly, the griffon began to chuckle. Craft joined in, as did Flowing Hoof. The griffon threw back his head and laughed long and deeply, which set the entire bar laughing, and things returned to business as usual. The griffon released Sale Craft and punched him in the shoulder. “Where’ve you been mate? It’s been a long time since you’ve graced us with your presence.” He asked, retrieving the cleaver. Flowing Hoof set down Sale’s drink and excused herself to attend to other customers. “Oh I’ve been around, Greyfeathers. Oh, before I forget, I saw your brother up in Griffstonia, he said to say hi.” The chef of the Flowing Tap chuckled some more. “Oh yeah? What’s that old reprobate doing these days? Still hunting squirrels for some noble?” “Actually no, he’s got a job with the Emperor now.” That earned a glance from Greyfeathers. “Something to do with ‘Master of the Hunt’ or something.” A few seconds passed. Sale moved side to side, then waved his hoof in front of the griffon’s eyes. “I think I broke your cook” he said to a passing Flowing Hoof, who laughed.
“Master of the Emperor’s Hunt?” Greyfeathers repeated in an awed voice. “Yeah, helped me out of a scrape too. I was trying to get away from a manticore, and he came right out of nowhere and killed the thing with one strike. Got me to carry the thing back to the Imperial Palace for dinner that night.” “You’ve got to be kidding me” Greyfeathers was shaking his head. “There’s just no way...” “Oh, he gave me this letter for you. Got the official Imperial Seal and everything.” Sale Craft said, digging a scroll out of his saddlebags and hoofing it over. Greyfeathers wordlessly opened the scroll and scanned through it. “...your meals are all on me” he said, looking up. “While you’re here, you don’t pay for food, do you hear? You want a nice mushroom soup with a nice big ciabatta roll? I think I’ll make you a nice mushroom soup with a nice big ciabatta roll...” he moved off back towards the kitchen, muttering “mushroom soup” under his breath as he went. There was a shriek of joy just after he closed the kitchen door behind himself that made the bar pause for a moment.
Sale Craft had almost finished his Guinness when Flowing Hoof came back and handed him a key. “I’ve got you your usual room. I assume that’s your cart outside as well? It’s 9 bits for the room and 3 for the parking per night if you’re still ok with that.” “Can I pay you tomorrow? I put all my money into the steel, so I’ll be able to pay you as soon as I’ve passed it on to the buyer.” “Should be fine” she replied. “I’ll just have to check with Scotch, but because we know you I’m sure there won’t be a problem.” “My thanks.” A bell dinged, and Flowing Hoof quickly left and returned with a large steaming bowl of mushroom soup. “Well looks like he wasn’t joking when he said all your meals are on him.” “For today at least, I’m glad about that. Mind if I take this up to my room? I’ve been on the road all day and I’d like to get some rest. I’ll stay up with you all tomorrow night, I promise” Craft added quickly, answering her next plea. “I guess. You’d better though” she allowed.
Craft drained his glass, and took his food, room key, and another drink from Hoof, and weaved his way back through the throng to the stairs by the bar. Heading upstairs, he passed several doors until he came to his room. Carefully balancing his grub on his back, he opened the door and went inside. Putting the food on the desk, he quickly took advantage of the facilities in the en suite, then returned and began eating while scanning through the provided Manehatten Times newspaper. Articles on vastly improved buffalo-pony relations in the Appleoosa Valley due to the mediation of the Element Bearers, and the subsequent drop in apple prices and rise of pastry prices held his attention for a while, until he finished eating and lay down on the bed, appreciating more than most ponies ever would the softness of the mattress. The rain drummed a steady rhythm on the window as he slowly fell asleep.
It is quite an interesting experience, waking up to the first rays of the sun peeking in through your window, the smell of a kitchen wafting up through the floorboards, the crisp chill of the air above the blanket, the tickle of the point of a knife at your throat. The knee jerk reaction that fully wakes you up in a start when you realise what the feeling is can often be fatal. Sale Craft however fought through the feeling and stayed perfectly still, and looked up slowly into the face of the cloaked and masked pony holding the weapon.
“Just hand over whatever cash you have on you and no one needs to get hurt” said the intruder. The mare spoke with a voice as low as she could possibly make it to avoid recognition. Sale Craft raised one eyebrow. “And if I don’t have any money on me?” “... Umm... Well... you’d better hope you have some hadn’t you?” came the shaky reply. “Oh no, whatever shall I do!” declared Sale Craft, a highly sarcastic edge to his voice. “Help help, there’s a mysterious pony in my room who’s holding a knife to my throat! I sure hope I don’t accidentally cut my throat on this knife she’s holding to my neck! Police! Ambulance! Mummy! Help me, help me! Oh I’m so scared! I mean I have absolutely no idea who this pony is; she could be the Butcher of Baltimare for all I know! Somebody save me! SOS, SOS!!!” “Be quiet!” Hushed the masked pony. “Be quiet, or I’ll...” “Really? You really still think you’re fooling anyone? Come on Stage, just take the disguise off.” “Umm.... Who is this Stage of whom you speak? Sounds like an awesomely cool pony...” the pony ended with a weak chuckle.
Sale pushed his muzzle forward and touched the blade with his neck, then moved forward slowly, pushing the blade backwards into the hilt. With a sudden yell, he jumped up from the bed, flying tackled the masked pony backwards onto the floor and pinned her. He then pulled the mask and cloak off, revealing a grey earth pony with bright orange hair. He then proceeded to mercilessly tickle her ribs until she couldn’t breathe with laughter, ignoring her gasped protests. After a minute he stood up and let her catch her breath. “Sale... You... Bastard...” she gasped slowly. “You really thought I wouldn’t recognise my own sister? You’re not that great an actress” Sale chuckled. “I will give you credit though, it did take me a few seconds. You’ve been practicing.”
Sale pulled his sister up and they embraced for a few seconds. “How’ve you been then? I haven’t seen you in months!” Sale asked. “I’ve been alright,” the mare, Stage Craft, replied. “I’m in the Bridleway production of Cats at the moment, so life is good. How’s about you? Still bankrupting ponies for a living?” “That was only one pony!” Sale protested. “And besides, how was I supposed to know that Nightmare Moon would choose that night to reappear? I wasn’t responsible for all those Moon-Spider eggs hatching! I told him not to leave them out in the moonlight too long, but would he listen? Oh no, it’s the Midsummer Sun Celebration! The moon will go down ages before they get enough moonlight to hatch! And I did try to get there when I realised what would happen, but we were both too late!” “I know, I know, I’m just teasing” laughed Stage Craft. “How long are you staying for anyway? You’ve got to come and see my show at some point before you leave, will you come?” “I’ll come, I’ll come. I’ve got one delivery to complete in the city, and then I’m free until I find somepony in need of my services.” “Awesome! What load have you got? Where’s it going? Can I come?” Stage asked rapidly. “Yeah you can come along. I don’t know the exact place I’m going; you might need to guide me. I’ll spend the day with you if you really want, although I’ve promised Flowing Hoof that I’ll drink with them this evening.” “Aw... Ooh wait, that’s great! I’m in the afternoon show, so you can come and see us this afternoon and I’ll come out this evening!” Sale gave Stage a smirk, which earned him a smack in the muzzle. “You know what I mean.”
~
After splashing some water on his face and running a hoof through his mane in a half-hearted attempt to make it behave, Sale ushered his sister out of the room, locked up, then led her, past a Greyfeathers discussing some leave to visit family with Tempered Scotch, out of the inn, and round to the parking lot, where he hitched himself up to his cart and started trundling out towards the street. “Downtown Park Row?” Stage turned right, and Sale followed her lead.
With last night’s rain gone and the sun shining on the freshly washed Manehatten, the city sparkled with the glitter of glass and steel. The skyscrapers reached up towards the blue expanse of the sky, each taller than the next. However, none could compare to the Goblet Skyport, a gigantic circular pillar made of polished chrome reaching up and spreading out at the top into a wide circle, with docks at regular intervals around the edge. Though it could not be seen from the ground, 4 runways ran in a square around the central point of the pillar, which housed the freight and passenger terminals and lifts from the ground level.
The Craft siblings eventually turned on to Park Row, and Sale took a few looks up and down the road before turning right, leading his sister down through Zebraville. “Well at least I’m convinced that you’re not selling anything illegal,” Stage commented. At a curious glance from Sale, she pointed at a building on their right. “That’s the Guard headquarters, 1 Police Plaza. There’s no pony stupid enough to do something illegal around here.” “This is Police Plaza?” Sale asked, looking around. “Right then.” He turned off the road and trundled past the Guard house to the building next to it. He chuckled as he watched his sister’s face when she realised they were going into the Guard Armoury. Fishing a letter out of his saddlebags, he approached the gate.
“Halt. This is a restricted area,” The unicorn guardspony on duty at the gate held his spear out, barring their entry. “Hey there,” Sale began. “My name’s Sale Craft, and I’ve got a load of steel for you.” “Papers please.” Sale hoofed over the letter, which the guard opened, quickly scanned through, and then looked at Stage Craft. “She’s with me,” Sale said quickly. The guard nodded, then passed the letter back and lifted his spear up to allow them through. “Turn right, then it’s the third door you come to.” The guard turned back to his silent vigil.
Stage stuck a hoof in Sale’s ribs as they moved around the armoury to the large entrance that they had been directed to. “You never said we were coming here! I feel all guilty, as if I’ve done something wrong!” Sale looked at her and grinned. “You never asked. Now let me do the talking.” They entered a large hall, passed two guards, and came to a stop by what was obviously an unloading point. A pegasus and an earth pony approached them, as Sale unhitched himself and gave them a winning smile, holding out the letter again. The Pegasus took it and began reading. “Welcome,” began the earth pony. “I’m Gilded Forge, Master of the Armoury, and this is Packed Bags, Manehatten Quartermaster. I hear you have a delivery for us.” “3 tonnes of steel for your new armour,” replied Sale, beaming at the two. “Delivered 2 days ahead of schedule!” “So, this is the new stuff eh?” asked Forge, clearly unimpressed. “We’ll but it from you for... how much is this worth do you reckon?” He asked his companion. “100 bits?” “100 bits?” Sale exclaimed. “Don’t insult me. This stuff’s worth at least 3 times that.” “What, for some steel? You know how hard steel is to shape? We’re already having to upgrade our metalworks, we can’t be going around overpaying for every single little load of metal.” “I’m sorry, but this stuff is worth a lot more than 100 measly bits,” Sale looked at Forge as seriously as he could. “I brought this stuff all the way from Detrot, do you know how difficult it is getting through the Detrot Woods at this time of year? Everything with a pulse is looking at your flank wondering how it would taste with barbecue sauce! It’s not quite the Everfree, but still. And that’s just normal travellers, I had to lug three tonnes through that place on my cart, and only just made it out! I was chased by timberwolves all the way to the treeline!” Forge looked unimpressed, but nodded. “All right, I’ll give you 150 bits for it if you insist. I won’t go higher though.”
Sale looked angrily at the Master of the Forge. “I still say they’re worth 300 at the very least. I would have thought a good forgemaster would know good steel when he sees it, or are you not that good at your job?” “Well good luck finding another buyer in Manehatten,” Forge retorted. “I really didn’t want to have to do this...” muttered Sale, just loud enough so that Forge could hear him. He turned to Packed Bags. “Can you tell him?” “Tell him what?” Packed Bags replied, non-plussed. “I don’t know my metal as well as Forge does, I trust his judgement on this.”
“You don’t know either?” Sale laughed. “Really? Didn’t you ever study history? This is from Detrot.” He waited for a few seconds. “Ugh... Cloud Steel?” Packed thought for a moment before he looked up with the expression of the suddenly enlightened. “Oh...” “What? What’s so special about Detrot Steel?” Forge asked. “You want to tell him or should I?” Sale directed the question to the quartermaster. Packed gestured for him to go ahead. “All right then Mister Forge, here’s a little history lesson for you. This is a story about the founding of Equestria. You’ve seen the Hearth’s Warming Eve’s story right?” “I know the story yeah. How does that all relate to some steel?” Forge asked, sounding confused. “Well” began Sale, “back before ponies moved down this way, there were the three tribes – the unicorns, the earth ponies and the pegasi, right? And each had their own role within the fragile alliance that existed between them, controlling the heavens, food production, weather control and so on. With me so far?” Forge nodded. “Well, the Pegasi had two main roles. They were in charge of the weather, and that’s the bit that everypony knows. However, most ponies don’t see the reason why Commander Hurricane and Private Pansy were so important as to represent the Pegasi at the Winter Conference. The pegasi made up the majority of the fighting force of the pony tribes. Their job was to defend the ponies against attack. That’s why the Guard is so popular among pegasi even to this day.” “Everypony in the Guard knows this” Forge interrupted. “Right. Well, back in those days, the pegasi armed forces were almost always on call to battle threats to the earth ponies or the unicorns. Nowadays, what with Equestria being the global superpower that it is, ponies don’t need protecting so much, and so the Guard has armour made out of gold, which has the obvious downsides – if anything gets through the protective enchantments, gold isn’t very resistant, and is also extremely heavy. Back in the day, the pegasi couldn’t be dealing with something that could fail at a critical moment, and also didn’t trust the unicorns with their lives. So they created Cloud Steel – basically iron mixed in very specific quantities with storm clouds, which makes the resultant steel extremely lightweight, and yet provides infinitely more protection than any other metal you could care to name.”
Comprehension began to dawn on Forge’s face. Sale Craft pressed on. “The pegasi struck a deal with a village of earth ponies who lived near a high concentration of iron, and built factories to produce the stuff. And when the move to what became modern day Equestria came, the settlement that produced Cloud Steel found the Detrot iron deposits and settled there. The woods provided the ideal natural protection for the production centres, and so Detrot grew. Ever wondered why Cloudsdale makes regular stops over Detrot? It’s because of this ingrained relationship between the pegasi and the ponies of Detrot.”
“Cloud Steel was also instrumental in Celestia’s decision to send her sister to the moon during the Nightmare Moon Crisis of 3998 AD. The Sun Guard of the day had already switched to golden armour, but the Night Guard still relied on Cloud Steel. If the two armies had been forced to clash, as it was inevitable that they would had Nightmare Moon not been dealt with there and then, Celestia knew that her forces would lose in a heartbeat. Now that Luna’s back and is now friendly with her sister, it is her order that the guard be made into a more effective fighting force. I’m quoting her here, she said she had ‘intelligence that threats to the peace of Equestria are beginning to stir, and so the Guard should be better prepared than they currently are’ unquote.” “I never knew what she meant by that” Forge admitted. “Well then, it’s lucky you had me as your delivery boy then eh?” “I have a question” Packed Bags piped up. “How do you know so much about our history?” “Well, partly due to what I was told at the Detrot Refinery, but mostly” Sale turned to indicate Stage Craft, who smiled and waved, “due to my sister’s talent for acting. She single hoofedly researched, organised and ran our school’s production of the Hearth’s Warming Eve Carol back when we were kids. I couldn’t help but learn a bit second hoofedly.”
“Well then Mister Craft,” Forge decided, “it seems you are carrying some quite valuable materials. As such, I will give you 200 bits for your load.” “250 bits” “225” “Done.” Forge and Sale shook hooves. “Just out of interest, how much were you willing to give me at the start?” Sale asked. “300 bits” admitted Forge. “What about you? How much would you have sold for?” “100 bits” laughed Sale.
The deal done, Gilded Forge, called out an order, and a few unicorns came in, levitated the steel off the cart and carried it away into the armoury, as Packed Bags paid Sale. As the Craft siblings left the two guardsponies, Packed asked “What happened at the end there? Why did you both argue over the price?” “Ancient earth pony tradition, my friend” Forge replied. “If either of us accepted the first offer the other gave, it would have been insulting. Besides, we both walked away happy in the end, which I suppose was what the tradition is for.” And Packed Bags learned.
