//------------------------------//
// Chapter 2: For Awhile in the Open Air 
// Story: The Confession of an Ardent Heart 
// by SpitFlame 
//------------------------------//

Nova galloped to the train station. In the morning business in this area was rather occupied, although that was possibly a product of it being so close to the market square, where at least three clerks were active at all times, and they sold just about anything, including coffee, sugar, spices, beans, and fruits. Trade seemed to be slacking, something Nova took note of when he strode past the stalls.

Ponies would invariably go to and from Canterlot, for all sorts of reason, most often tourists coming to see the magnificent capital city of Equestria. The crowds of ponies were innumerable; there was no system to them, no predictability; ponies all over poured in and out the streets adjacent to the locomotive tracks. My bad, I'm describing morning routines.

Now, however, as the sun lowered beneath the horizon with a sob, and the white stars sprinkled in, it was as if time delved into slow motion.

When Nova arrived at the station he immediately found a cart ready at once, waiting by the numbered pillars, covered with a sort of split, mahogany rug, harnessed to an imposingly large pegasus pony with bells and whistles.

That must be the coachpony, Cloudbuster, thought Nova as he approached. "My good stallion, Cloudbuster!" he called out.

"Nova Tale, sir?" asked the coachpony in a pedantic voice.

"This carriage will be en route to Baltimare, correct?"

"Correct, sir. May I see the note to confirm the authenticity of your arrival, sir?"

"Huh? What note—? Oh, right, yes, this one here you mean?" Nova snatched the taped note on top of the package, unfolded it, and read over the print. "This is her signature. Here we are."

The coachpony took five seconds to scan over the note; then, handing it back to Nova, he nodded assuringly, saying:

"You are indeed the pony I've been assigned to, sir."

"Fantastic! Hmm, I do wonder how Sunlight managed this."

"Ms. Ivory, sir? She told me to drive straight here to the station."

"Well, well, why waste time? Let us weave to it!" Having said this, Nova climbed up the cart, making himself comfortable. "How long is the drive, my good stallion?" he said again. "Will we be very late?"

"Two hours, sir, two hours at most. One hour and forty-five minutes if we go quickly," responded the coachpony.

"Ah, splendid. If we make it in less than two hours remind me to tip you."

"I guarantee at most two hours, most likely less, sir."

"Let us take off then!"


* * *


Nova Tale flew over the roads. Baltimare, at this point, was some eleven or twelve kilometers away, but Cloudbuster's carried the cart so fast that they could make it in an hour and a half by the end of it. The swift ride seemed to suddenly refresh Nova. The air was fresh and rather cool; the stars shone like painted waves of glass in the daunting night sky.

But Nova's soul was troubled, troubled for reasons he could not quite articulate, and at this moment he wanted nothing more than to please his queen, to whom he was flying in order for her to look at him wholly and jovially once more. I will say just one thing: his heart did not argue against anything, against breaking certain other promises to fulfill this one, even for a moment. Chances are Nova was jealous—not jealous of anypony in particular, but more like an internal jealousy of himself, of his potential to be with Sunlight, as though he was jealous of some kind of alternate future; and he prodded these feelings almost too readily.

During the trip he decidedly ventured into some chatter, just to pass the time.

"You know," Nova began, "life is so beautiful and so terrible. It can be very easy to manifest your resentment in life, to forget all the good things in the face of suffering, but here, now, right now, a little piece of me goes up in rapture. I look at the sky, and the clouds, and the fields of flowers below, and I think about the love of my life. The sky is dear to me, the clouds are dear to me, the flowers are dear to me, dearest of all is the pony who paid you for this cart. Who in their right mind can hate life when gazing at the sky?"

"Very well struck, sir," said the coachpony with a strained smile. "Do you read poetry often?"

"Aha, I have learned much with the great poets, I like to consider them the true 'Greats' of history. The verses which describe the nature of reality—oh, and music, the music," Nova suddenly said reverently. "Music is so very meaningful. It models the balance between chaos and order; an orchestral piece, for instance, so many moving parts, yet they all flow together so harmoniously."

"True. Music is very beautiful, sir."

"You know, my friend," said Nova suddenly and ardently, "concerning the chaos in life, I have never liked all this disorder. Say, the blackness of the night, that is disorder, right? You never know who will surprise you, or what. Say, now that I think on it..." Nova pondered. "What time is it exactly?"

"Judging by the position of Princess Luna's moon..." the coachpony reasoned, after a pause. "I say close to nine o'clock, sir."

"Nine? Drive, drive faster, my good stallion! What if the hospital is closed? What if everypony there is asleep already?"

"Maybe they haven't gone to bed yet, sir. I hear there's a lot of them there. And no need to stress, sir, the hospital in Baltimare is open twenty-four hours a day."

"Ah, that's right, how could I have forgotten? But do you suppose the hospital ponies are willing to be receiving guests?" Nova heaved himself forward.

"I can't say, sir. In your case, hopefully."

"And what about the payment process? Do you know why I race to Baltimare? I am meant to make a delivery to a certifiably important pony. This journey of mine—it's the journey of honour and wounded vanity—it's of capital importance."

"Ms. Ivory debriefed me on the details, sir. You have been instructed to make a delivery of a generous sum, correct?"

"I promised to be back in two days, my good stallion. Hmm, how will this work? I should pay today, rent a room and lend the remainder to my fiancé's sister's store manager next morning. Well, that is in total less than a day. I have time, all of it and more, if that is possible."

For at least a whole minute silence hung in the air.

"Can I ask you something, sir?" the coachpony began again after the silence. "Only I'm afraid it'll make you angry, sir."

"What is it?"

"Just now you spoke of 'disorder' and the night sky, and you seem to be awfully enthusiastic to be making this trip, all the while you proclaim your love to Ms. Ivory. So, sir, well, I'm driving you there... forgive me, sir, maybe I've said something foolish, because of my conscience."

Nova suddenly seized the edge of the cart right behind Cloudbuster.

"Are you a coachpony? A coachpony?" he began frenziedly.

"A coachpony, sir."

"Then you know you have to make way. If you're a coachpony, what do you do, not make way for other ponies? Just run them down? Look out, I'm coming, I will definitely fulfill my promise in regards to these one hundred thousand bits. Look, my good stallion, you must never 'run' anypony down, if you get my meaning; you must not spoil other ponies' lives; and if you have spoiled somepony's life—punish yourself... if you have ever spoiled—that is precisely what I would do to myself—to receive just punishment."

All this burst from Nova, unexpectedly and without premeditation, as if in complete hysterics. Cloudbuster, although he was surprised by Nova, kept up the conversation.

"That's true, sir, you're right on the money, one mustn't run a pony down, or torment them, or any other creature either, because some ponies barrel on regardless, some of us coachponies, let's say. And there's no holding them back, they just keep pushing on, right on."

"What in Equestria?" interrupted Nova, and he burst into his abrupt, unexpected laugh. "Cloudbuster, you simple soul," he exclaimed with an amicable smile, "you seem like a very dear pony. Say, do you have a family?"

"I do, sir. A wife and a daughter, sir."

"The elements for a happy life—splendid. Say, that 'disorder' I brought up, it's life in its most natural state. But I don't mean just that. I mean a higher order is what is important. There is no order in me, no higher order. But... that's all over, nothing to grieve about. My whole life has been in disorder, and I must put it in order. 'Glory to the highest in me!' I wrote that myself once. It's verse!"

"Interesting. Why mention verse all of a sudden, sir?"

"Why all of a sudden? Nonsense! Everything ends, everything comes out even; a line—a sum total. Say, will you forgive me, Cloudbuster?"

"Why would I forgive you, sir? You never did anything to me."

"No, for everypony, I've done everypony alive some wrong, somehow. Will you alone, right now, this moment, up here in the sky, forgive me for everypony? Speak, my simple soul!"

"Ah, sir! I'm somewhat afraid to be driving you, you talk so strangely somehow..."

But Nova did not hear. He was whispering wildly to himself.

"My sweet cherub, Sunlight, things will certainly sort themselves out between us. The blue sky and red flowers are dear to me, and you're dearest to me of all. Oh, that's right!—forgive me, brother, I know I promised to come visit today for those promissory notes, to finish them with you. I will come to terms with you in two days, at most two days from this very minute, this very second. Ah..."

"Baltimare!" cried the coachpony, pointing ahead with his fore-hoof.

The cart began to drop down rapidly. Through the pale darkness of night many buildings came into view, spread over a vast space. Only a few lights gleamed here and there in the darkness, one of them being the city hospital.

"Here I come with the one hundred thousand," echoed Nova happily. "Make it rattle, my good stallion, ring the bells, drive down with a clatter. Here I come!"