//------------------------------// // Chapter 30 // Story: Spring Broke // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// The kitchen was quiet in the hours before dawn and a yawning Copperquick had fond memories of the days when he had slept. Esmeralda had screeched to let everypony know that she had a foosh emergency, and somehow, she hadn’t soiled herself in the night—a miraculous occurrence if ever there was one. Though clean, she was still quite grumpy and was now making demands for florp while making sweeping, imperious gestures with her front legs. If there was any lingering upset from the night before, Butter Fudge showed no signs of it. She had remained in the kitchen for but a short time, and then had gone out to the barn for morning chores. Buttermilk was minding the malted wheat simmering on the stove. Seville Orange, bleary eyed, sat at the kitchen table and was trying to read over his copious notes. “Kish?” Esmeralda blinked a few times while looking in her father’s direction and then made an impatient huffy sound when her demands were not met. Copperquick, unprepared for such a direct and to the point request, stared at his daughter in half-awake awe while trying to process the request she had made. The little filly puckered up her lips and then made sloppy slurping sounds while her body bobbed up and down. A slick ribbon of drool spilled down from her lips and her bright, shiny eyes showed all the signs of a coming storm. “Kishes!” she cried, which was then followed by more slurping sounds. A flash of understanding struck Copperquick and when he leaned over, two things happened at once; the first of which was getting a dreadful crick in his neck—the pop could be heard all throughout the kitchen—with the second was that he kissed his daughter, but failed to satisfy her. “Kish!” she demanded again whilst her father rubbed his aching neck. After a second kiss, Esmeralda quieted a bit, but the hint of the storm remained. Food was needed—now. Kisses—or kishes, as the case may be—of appeasement would only last for so long and then the floodgates would open wide. Copperquick tried to straighten himself out and his spine crackled; sleeping with Esmeralda and Buttermilk in the bed led to odd positions that left his spine kinked. When he sat up, everything popped, from his neck down to his dock, and he saw stars in his vision. “She woke up with a new word,” Copperquick said to anypony who might be listening. “I think… she’s starting to come around. The doctor said that foals are resilient. I feel better.” “Now we have to reinforce that word.” Buttermilk stepped away from the stove, shuffled over to the fridge, pulled open the door, and began pulling various items out. “Repetition and repeat exposure.” She yawned, made a silly face while doing so, and covered her mouth with her wing. “Copper, how are you even awake? You were up later than I was reading that schoolbook about proclamations.” “The Manehattan Proclamation…” Copperquick’s lips felt almost numb and murky thoughts percolated upwards through his grey matter. “Year four hundred and seventy-seven: the earth pony city of Manehattan drafts legislation guaranteeing earth pony clannish democratic rights to pegasus ponies and unicorn ponies, to grant them the right to vote in mayoral elections and matters involving city governance. This sets off a firestorm across Equestria, highlighting various inequalities that still existed four hundred and seventy-seven years after tribal unification. Anarchists burn half of the city of Vanhoover to the ground. Unicorn separatists protest the growing influence of the democratic earth pony clans, claiming that it is destabilising the aristocracy’s ability to effectively rule. The militaristic factions of Cloudsdale institute a ban on voting to prevent instability and chaos from spreading to their city. It is said that tribal relations are set back by at least two hundred years or more by this incident.” “Copper”—Buttermilk’s voice became strained when she yawned once more—“even I don’t remember all of that.” “Study more,” Copperquick muttered in reply while he conked himself in the head with his hoof to shake the last of his thoughts free. “Get on my level, mare.” “Well, I never!” Buttermilk huffed while she began to set the table and a wry smile could be seen on her face. “I’ll be sorting you out later today, Copperquick. You just wait!” Not fully awake, Copperquick failed to catch on to the meaning of Buttermilk’s words. Little Esmeralda had a visibly distended tummy and she lay on her back, half asleep with her carrot grasped tight to her neck with her stubby front legs. It was only obvious now that she had eaten too much, then kept eating, and was now full as an engorged tick. She was also fussy and was in no mood to be disturbed, as Copperquick had discovered after a good natured prod to her well-rounded pudge. Again he was reminded that his daughter had impressive vocal pipes. Butter Fudge had ran up a flag and now, in the early hour of dawn, when the sunlight poured like maple syrup across the land, they were waiting for a ship to arrive. What sort of ship hadn’t been specified, but Butter Fudge had assured Seville Orange that she had a way that he could get a ride back to Canterlot. Other than that, Butter Fudge had been remarkably quiet and Copperquick wondered if she had some simmering resentment from yesterday. Buttermilk was gathering supplies to churn more butter and Copperquick couldn’t wait to watch. Birds were chirping, the sun was rising, the breeze was delightful, and he had a good feeling about the day. Today was a day of promise. Sure, another fight might break out between Buttermilk and her mother, but today was full of promise. In the yard a herd of goats grazed in a protective circle around their kids, which were tiny, cute, and adorable. A foghorn blast could be heard in the distance and within moments, Butter Fudge poked her head out of the barn. Copperquick, somewhat startled, looked about, his eyes darting left to right, right to left, and back again. Then, low over the water, he saw the source of the foghorn blast and his mouth fell open in unabashed awe. What might have been the largest airship that Copperquick had ever seen approached, floating in the way that bricks found to be quite difficult. Black sooty smoke trailed behind it and he had no idea just how long it was, but it was huge. Griffons could be seen on the deck as the ship hovered just above the trees. “What in bloody Tartarus is that?” Copperquick gasped. “Oi, that is a distinctly Equestrian invention,” Butter Fudge said whilst she trudged through the yard, “a factory freighter. Common sight around the delta. He’d better see my flag or I’ll have his beak.” “But what is it?” “Oi, Copper, are you slow?” Butter Fudge smiled, a good natured sight, and she let out a chuckle. “It’s a factory freighter. It’s a whole factory that flies. That one in particular processes crustaceans and fish and what have you and turns it into frozen meals while it flies into Canterlot. He also carries my dairy products to market there. Captain Goldfrost is a good sort.” At a loss for words, Copperquick stared, still baffled by the sheer size of the vessel. It was bigger than Butter Fudge’s island, or seemed to be, being both broad and tall. The hull was metal, somewhat rusty, and two massive doors were opening on the sides, revealing a crane arm that swung out. “All of Equestria would starve without the factory freighters. There’s millions of mouths to feed and the food stretches from coast to coast. It’s a bright idea, processing it as you move it about. And when it arrives, it’s nice and fresh. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got business to attend to and a few tons of cheese to send off.” The vessel floating above his head had to be at least five or six stories tall and was maybe half as wide. A profound amount of pollution was pooted out of the back end in great chuggy blasts, rhythmic bursts that happened about every four seconds or so. With the sliding doors wide open, parts of the inside could be seen, a vast cargo hold filled with wooden crates and blocks of ice. Griffons flitted about, flying inside of the vessel, and one griffon had flown down to speak with Butter Fudge. Cheese was being raised with the crane, and wooden pallets were being lowered down to replace the ones taken with the cheese. Much to Copperquick’s alarm, Buttermilk was rounding up the kids and he had a terrible suspicion as to what would happen next; the kids were consuming a resource that Butter Fudge needed to make cheese. Such was the way of things, this was how life went on. When two griffons with nets flew down, Copperquick did a quick turnabout to look in the other direction. He heard the bleating, the baa-ing, the mournful sounds of protest accompanied by the screaming of the kids. It was awful, and he tried not to think about his own daughter, but failed. Buttermilk it seemed, having been raised on a farm, had a much harder heart and was made of sterner stuff than he. Some things were just too terrible to witness. “Oi, Mister Orange.” Butter Fudge had a broad grin and she seemed rather pleased with herself. “Mister Orange, I spoke to Captain Goldfrost and he has a spot for you to bunk, so he does. No charge. But, if you are looking for a little work, there’s some to be had. He’s agreed to take you to Canterlot and drop you off safe and sound.” “Thank you, Mrs. Oddbody.” Seville’s battered green felt fedora was tugged on by a stray gust but remained lodged upon his noggin. It was amazing that the hat wasn’t mere tatters and beneath its torn, shabby brim, Seville’s sheepish smile could be seen. “Thank you for having me as a guest.” “Sorry ‘bout the unpleasantness.” Butter Fudge seemed sincere and raising one hoof, she patted her fellow earth pony on the neck. “Keep working hard, Mister Orange. It’s all us earth ponies have. With hard work and a little luck, hopefully things’ll sort themselves out. When you wasn’t looking, I had Beezy slip some cheese sandwiches in your bags.” “Thank you again, Mrs. Oddbody.” Feeling a bit mournful, Copperquick watched as the two earth ponies stood neck to neck to say their goodbyes, and when they pulled apart, he moved in to say his own. It seemed that Buttermilk had at that moment the same idea; when he and Buttermilk moved in, Butter Fudge sauntered away, only to vanish behind the barn doors. Sad goats bleating their loss could be heard within. “Did you find your story, Mister Orange?” Buttermilk stood close, peering through her glasses in an owlish way that Copperquick adored. “I did,” Seville replied, “thank you, Miss Oddbody.” Ears rotating backwards, Copperquick listened for the sounds of his daughter’s distress, because she was alone on the porch, napping off her breakfast. When nothing could be heard, he gave his fellow earth pony a friendly nod. “Good luck, Mister Orange.” “Mister Quick, when you do settle down and marry this pretty pegasus, try to contact me. I’d love to do a follow-up story with a happy ending. The world needs happy endings, if you ask me.” Smiling, Copperquick felt Buttermilk lean up against him, her feathers tickling his foreleg. “I suppose you plan to make a go of it in Canterlot then?” “I do.” The earnest yellow-orange earth pony seemed a bit downcast, but his stout smile remained. “Canterlot is a city in need of truth. Our nation’s heart holds many secrets and there are stories to be told. The distance between Manehattan and Canterlot sometimes feels like its a whole world away. I have some crazy ideas, like a national news agency… a bureau that enforces rules… standards… and makes certain that the truth is told. I hope to be more than a reporter… I want the whole world to remember me and know my name. I want truth to be my hallmark and integrity to be my calling card.” A griffon landed, waiting with impeccable politeness, and Copperquick knew it was time to say goodbye. Waving, he said, “See you in Canterlot, Mister Orange. If you ever need anything, anything at all, you know where I can be found.” Extending her wing, Buttermilk waved and gave Seville Orange a brave smile. In response, Seville waved in return, then, turning about, he departed, and trotted over to where the griffon stood, waiting to carry him up to the factory freighter. The griffon took wing and with great care, Seville Orange was lifted, along with his bags. Copperquick watched as the griffon rose, his broad wings pumping, and in no time at all, Seville vanished through the side doors of the massive airship. Copperquick hoped that Seville Orange would find what he was looking for.