The Olden World

by Czar_Yoshi


Getting Lost

Maple charged out of an alley and around a corner, breathing heavily, not stopping to wipe her mane from her eyes. She didn't see Gerardo, Howe or the constable, the road she was on stretching long and straight for a considerable distance... but there was a side road nearby that they could have gone down and still been relatively close. She galloped across to it, shade from a building washing over her back as her hooves hit heavily against the dusty, sun-baked road... and came to a stop, finding a four-way intersection with no trace of her friends in any direction.

Hot and miserable, she flung herself into a pout. Howe, the pegasus she needed to find the power access and safely use it, had somehow gotten himself in trouble. Gerardo, his priorities attuned to the situation, had leapt to accompany him, ensuring their key wouldn't get lost. All Maple had needed to do was follow both of them, and she had somehow failed to do that. She had lost the trail, and was now lost herself.

Leaning against a rough brick wall, she uncorked the flask Gerardo had left for her and drained the rest of the water, resisting the urge to tip it on her head and wash the sweat off her brow. A single tear of frustration slipped from one eye, and she shook it away. That wouldn't help. She had to do something.

Unfortunately, her racing heart and wobbly legs reminded her, that something involved taking care of herself so that she could keep going. Riverfall had been constantly cool, with rains that fell for weeks on end in the stormier seasons, and as little as she liked being cold and wet, it was something she knew how to deal with. Find a roof. Find a towel. Get warm... and the warmth would feel good.

But the Earth District heat was murder in atmospheric form. Buildings retained heat, so there was no inside to hide in. The best she could manage was a few scattered outcroppings of shade, but that was like wearing an umbrella saddle when one was already drenched and standing in a puddle that was almost belly-deep and rising. All it did was give the illusion that things weren't getting worse.

Windigoes were ice monsters, weren't they? Maple smirked to herself, head spinning. Maybe if she had hung onto the heart instead of sending it back to the ship, it could have done something for her.

Laying tiredly against the building, she started to put together a plan. First, approach another pony. Hope they were friendly, and if they were, ask for directions to the constabulary and maybe some water. And if they weren't? She hefted a hoof grimly, feeling its weight enhanced by the iron and concrete Gerardo hadn't asked her to drop. But hopefully she could just back off. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that. But she could ask for directions. She could do this.

...Assuming she could find another pony. The high noon sun left almost none of the short brick buildings casting shadows, and whether from the evacuation or to avoid the heat, everywhere she looked was empty. She checked the building she was leaning against. It was a home, already boarded up and abandoned.

Following her ears towards the sounds of the distant main exit, she sighed and stepped into the sunlight. This was going to be a long, hot day.


"The constabulary?" an almost-fully grown colt said, sizing her up from a rare corner of shade next to what looked like a saw maintenance shop. "Well, sure. You want the yellow one, right?"

Maple folded her ears, having not considered that there could be more than one place in the town that might qualify for taking prisoners to. "As opposed to what?"

The colt grinned, showing off two missing teeth. "Why, the red jail, of course!"

Maple frowned. "What's the difference?"

"I dunno." The colt shrugged, idly twirling a mechanical something about one hoof. "They're both places where we send arrested bad ponies. You wanna know something they have in common?"

"What?" Maple asked, listening.

The colt's face lit up. "They ain't the green one!"

"But..." Maple's spirits fell further and further. She knew someone had mentioned the constable's name, but had forgotten it and wished she hadn't. It would make this whole business that much easier. "There are three? How am I supposed to find the right one?"

"Oh, no." The colt shook his head forlornly, chewing on a toothpick. "There's also the blue one, the orange one, the purple one, the magenta one, the violet one, the indigo one-"

"Those are all the same colors!" Maple protested in exasperation. "And... what... Why would you have so many jails in the first place? This is ridiculous!"

"To catch all our bad guys, Miss," the colt said. "We sure do have a lot of them here in Copsewood. Ain't it obvious?" He rotated his toothpick to the opposite side of his mouth.

"Well..." Maple stammered. "You asked if I wanted the yellow one first. What makes it special?"

The colt grinned a toothy grin. "'Cuz that one's got a constable! All the others just have sheriffs."

Maple turned to leave. Her head hurt.

"Hey now," the colt called from behind her. "Don't you want directions, or something?"

Maple stared expectantly at him, and he obliged by leaning forward as if telling a secret. "The yellow one? Don't tell any pegasuses this, but it's protected by a magic spell. To find it, first you've gotta go to Derb's watering hole and walk past the window three times in the same direction. Then, you cross behind the old wagon wheel building... and I mean behind, not in front of..."

"You can't be serious," Maple interrupted. "That's ridiculous! Who would try to hide a public service building with a spell like that!? It should be easy to find!"

The colt shrugged, bearing an 'I told you so' look. "Unicorns work in mysterious ways, Miss."

"Fine," Maple grumbled, the sunlight beginning to cause her back to burn. The colt had his shade, and he wasn't sharing. "Could you just give me the last step? Where the building actually is?"

"Okay," the colt continued. "Next, you need to go three blocks up Saddle Street, only done while walking backwards..."


Maple stood in front of her destination, trying to decide if she had been pranked.

She hadn't followed any of the colt's instructions. The only reason she had gone straight there instead of searching for another pony to ask for advice was that it had been very close by, and the two groups of ponies she had passed - both evacuating families - had looked at her with something between pity and annoyance that set her spine crawling. She had a mounting suspicion that it was because she was a single mare, and severely regretted not asking Shinespark, Arambai or someone knowledgeable about the culture of the actual ponies of Sosa for more information about the place. For all she knew, they could see her as anything between an opportunistic gold digger from the Stone District to a mare who had been kicked out and left behind prior to her husband's evacuation. Her limp, worried appearance probably wasn't helping, and she tried her best to stand strong.

Now, though, she stood in front of a garishly yellow building, one of the few structures in Copsewood that either had a second story or wasn't made of bricks, let alone both, and needed to make up her mind. Its windows were barred and armored, she noticed. But its architecture was too curvy and whimsical to fit with her impression of jails, designed to look as if it was made of jell-o on purpose.

It also had a door with a handle suitable for only griffons and unicorns, with a welcome mat that read 'GO AWAY' in faded red letters. She decided she had been pranked.

Apparently, though, her long spell of standing sheeplike in front of the house had caught the attention of whomever lived inside, and the door burst swiftly open with a rattle of tinny bells. Maple could only stare, taking a step back in worry as her brain processed whether to fight or run. A graying stallion stepped out onto the porch, glaring around, seemingly taking a second to focus on her.

"Ah, corncobs," he spat. "Not again. What did you drag your rear here looking for?"

"I-I..." Maple swallowed, ears flat. "I just asked for directions! I'm not looking for trouble, Sir."

The stallion eyed her sadly. "You ain't from around here, are you? Let me guess, Stone District tourist? Evacuation take you by surprise? Any of that ring true?"

"...Sort of," Maple admitted, not sure how much to say. "I am from out of town. Where am I?"

The stallion shook his head. "Then today's the worst day you could've picked to visit. And this is my house. If you're looking to get out of the sun, I think you'll find it a good bit more hospitable than some of the other places around here. The good kind of hospitality, too. I haven't forgotten that this is the Earth District."

"The... good kind?" Apprehensively, Maple took a step forward. As hot as she was, she wasn't sure she wanted to trust anything in Copsewood, especially going into a house that wasn't her intended destination.

"Mmph," the stallion grunted, turning back inside the door. "That's your call. But if you're going to wander around out there, do yourself a favor and try to blend in with the crowd. It'll make it less obvious you're alone."

Maple stared after him. Briefly, she wished she were Valey, able to detect danger with a prickle on her flank... but all she felt was curiosity, and she already knew the town had a strange vibe to it. Picking up her hooves, she loped toward the invitingly open door, figuring at the very least the stallion might be able to give her real directions.