//------------------------------// // Chapter 0:8 - Apprentice // Story: Camaraderie is Sorcery // by FireOfTheNorth //------------------------------// Chapter 0:8 – Apprentice Year 989 of the 4th Age Rarity galloped through town, the young filly ducking under carts as she passed through the market to cut down on time. When Gascoigne had first arrived in Poneiville, she hadn’t paid much attention. He was another unicorn fleeing the pogroms in the east, which had only become worse since King Wexel of Manehattan had died, and there was now nopony to reign in his zealous son Hadish, the new king of Manehattan. He dressed like aristocracy, but his belongings were few and his budget too meager to afford anything more than an upper room over a tannery. It had intrigued ponies for a while, who had assumed a pony of his class would pass through the town in time, but it looked like he was here to stay. Nopony really important would do more than pass through Ponieville, and talk about the newcomer died down after it became evident he had nowhere else to be. Rarity’s interest was renewed when she learned why the old stallion was always dressed so fancily. In Manehattan, Gascoigne had been a reputable smith and clothier. Rarity had been haphazardly working in both those professions (favoring the latter), for slightly less than a year now, ever since she’d received her cutie-mark. She was determined to convince Gascoigne to let her apprentice with him, which would greatly advance her mastery of the crafts she was destined to pursue. It was a grand stroke of providence that she would have a master tailor to teach her. “Master Gascoigne!” the filly called as she knocked at the door to his room, wrapping her scarf more tightly over her nose to filter out the smell of the tannery below, “Are you home?” “Who wants to know?” the stallion snapped back through the closed doors, almost causing Rarity to fall back down the stairs. “It’s Rarity, daughter of Magnus the cooper and Henrietta,” Rarity replied tentatively. “Ah, yes, I’ve heard about you,” Gascoigne said grumpily as he opened the door and looked down at the hopeful filly, “An aspiring seamstress, hmm? I suppose you want some advice.” “Yes, actually,” Rarity replied, dreaming of that advice becoming an apprenticeship. “Well, I guess it can’t hurt,” the stallion said, ushering her into his room. Though the chamber was quite small, the scanty number of possessions that Gascoigne had meant that it still wasn't crowded by any means. A straw-stuffed pallet served as a bed as well as a seat for the low wooden table next to it, which was stacked with a half-eaten loaf of bread and bottles at varying levels of emptiness. Rarity’s family was by no means wealthy, but even they lived better than this. The entire apartment was dingy, and everything was in disarray. The only things that Gascoigne hadn’t simply let lay wherever they fell were the beautiful clothes stuffed in the single trunk he’d brought with him to Ponieville. The craftsmareship displayed dazzled Rarity, and she was certain this pony could help her. Gascoigne himself was a reflection of his living space, his mane unkempt and his posture horrid, but his clothes gorgeous, even if they were a bit worn from travel. “Vodka?” the stallion offered the filly as he made his way over to the table. “Um, no, thank you,” Rarity said graciously, and Gascoigne took a swig from the bottle himself. “You really want my advice?” he asked as he sat down on his mattress, and Rarity nodded, “Find another profession.” “What?” Rarity said in shock, “No, I-I can’t. This is my destiny; it’s what I got my cutie-mark for.” “No, that’s not quite how you got your cutie-mark, if I’ve heard the stories right,” Gascoigne said as he scratched his chin before taking another swig of vodka, “Good thing, too. If making clothes was your destiny, you’d be at a loss here. Ponieville has no future for somepony like that.” “Then why are you here?” Rarity asked angrily, frustrated with a pony she’d hoped would help her, “If you’re not going to help, you should’ve just stayed in Manehattan.” “Would that I could have,” Gascoigne glowered back, “Alas, King Hadish cared not that I was the best weapon and armor smith and tailor in all of Manehattan, for there is a horn upon my head, and that is enough of a justification to take it from my body in Manehattan these days. I grabbed what I could and ran, but like so many other unicorns, I lost nearly everything. I just want to live out the last of my days without the threat of execution hanging over me. How unfortunate that my life would end in poverty and squalor, for my coin will soon run out and I’ll be forced to beg for my meals.” “You could get back to work,” Rarity offered, “Maybe then you wouldn’t have to live in this dreadful place.” “I’m old,” Gascoigne complained, “I don’t have much work left in me, not enough to dig myself out of this hole, at least.” “You wouldn’t have to work much, especially if you take me on as your apprentice,” Rarity propositioned. “Didn’t you hear me before, filly? There’s no future for me in Ponieville. Besides, how am I supposed to apprentice you without a place to apprentice you in?” “Um, well, I don’t know, but at least working a little would be better than letting your money run out and starving to death,” Rarity said, grasping at straws. “Hmm, you may be right, and perhaps there is a way,” Gascoigne said thoughtfully as he scratched his chin again, “If you could convince your father to invest in a smithy and we could find one more backer, we could start a business, and maybe even turn enough of a profit to pay them back and keep me off the street.” “So, you’ll take me on as an apprentice?” Rarity asked hopefully. “Yes, if—if­ we can find two investors to forward us the money, I’ll allow you to apprentice with me,” Gascoigne allowed. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” Rarity said excitedly, hopping up and down, “I won’t let you down!” “Don’t get too thrilled,” Gascoigne cautioned, “It’s not going to be all pretty clothes. This is Ponieville, and ponies here need horseshoes, nails, hinges, and plow blades, not gowns and doublets. I’m getting too frail to work the forge without the expensive equipment I had in Manehattan, so that’ll be your job for the most part. I can still tailor clothing, so that’ll be my responsibility, and if you do well with your other work, I’ll teach you some tailoring as well. Don’t get your hopes too high, though. There’s no demand for fancy clothing in Ponieville, so don’t think you’ll ever be able to be a clothier full time, or that you’re an equal to the tailors of Cant’r Laht. If you ever do, it will just lead to disappointment.”