CHAPTER FOUR
TO BE A STALLION
Even in the afterlife some things never changed. I understand that there have been numerous fashions and artistic themes that architects have had a particular penchant towards over the centuries, Canterlot being one of the most notable examples. You can, for example, see where the earliest buildings centered around the palace begin and the various changes in taste that occurred in later times spreading outward like the layers of an onion. On the subject of military buildings however, all aspects of taste, fashion, and goddesses forbid, comfort, were all mercilessly sacrificed on the altar of practicality. You needed a toilet? You got a toilet block. Needed a bedroom? You got a bed in a barracks. Needed somewhere to keep your personal effects? You got a locker. Showers, baths, kitchen: all provided for so long as you didn’t mind sharing with the gods knew how may others souls. The eternal herd was no different in this regard, probably to appeal to your typical soldier’s sensibilities, or more likely to cater to their expectations. And how low those expectations must be! I’d never been a soldier, not in the sense of one who had been involved in the incessant drills and square bashing many of these lads had. No, I’d been a watchstallion in my earlier years, which was looked upon by many as a ‘light’ version of the army. Indeed, many watchponies were ex-army, ex-navy, and so on. These guys and gals had been the unsung heroes of Equestria down through the ages, their exploits and acts of self sacrifice for the nation and their brothers or sisters in arms seldom mentioned in case it upset the general populace. Border security, defence against monster incursions, and, as in the past, all out war, were things that ‘just happened’ as if by magic according to you typical civilian. Everypony knew about the royal guard of course, and their ceremonial roles. Some even knew there was an army, navy, and air force. But would you be likely to find such ponies publicly acknowledged? Not likely. The Equestrian newspapers were well and truly under the yoke of the palace, and perhaps in some sense it was understandable to keep it that way. What purpose would it serve to know how close we had come to war with Yak Yakistan? Why would we want to tell our foals about how many ponies had died to protect their cute colourful posteriors, knowing the only ones who would mourn would be their soldier brethren and their family? It was the very definition of a thankless job, even when her glorious majesty’s smug mugshot hung over the desk in the seldom used foyer of the recruiting office. For me, it was a similar story. Dad had been a watchstallion, and I being the ever dutiful son, had followed in his hoofsteps. Of course neither I, nor I suspect my father, had realised how the poison of corruption would end up infecting the watch and subvert it into the corrupt parody it had become. With the backing of ‘The Commissioner’, they had turned against their own, myself included. Whether the rot could somehow be reversed, whether the once precious tenets of the watch to protect and to serve the ponies in our communities could once again become their focus, was anyponies guess. Personally, as much as it pained my heart to see the organisation I had once loved become this sickening perversion of what was once seen as a brotherhood of dedicated ponies, was no longer my problem. That was for the living. Here, I could only hope, vices that had plagued the organisation in the mortal realm such as greed and selfish self interest, would be completely absent. Considering the way the herd gave you everything you could ever wish for simply by, funnily enough ‘wishing’ for it, that didn’t seem to be as far fetched a notion as you may expect. Here, walking along the corridors of white stone, past the paintings of ponies who I didn’t recognise in the slightest, I felt strangely comforted. I couldn’t quite put my hoof on it, but this feeling of being under the eyes of those who had gone before, made me feel something I hadn’t in a long time: pride. I loved my homeland, I loved the serving and helping those who were helpless, and giving something back to the land that had been my birthplace and home. Duty, honour, courage in the face of adversity - these were all things that had been hammered into me by my father, and later, the watch commander and one who I would consider one of my closest personal friends, Chief Mitre. That dark blue stallion had sacrificed everything to help me, and for what? What had I ever done for him in return? But then that was what the watch was all about wasn’t it? You didn’t do something because you expected reward, you did it because it was right. It was the right thing to do. Even if it cost you your life. It had cost Apple Pop his life too. Poor sod, I hadn’t exactly been the ideal son in law had I? Ha! Far from it in fact.
My ruminations were interrupted by Argo stopping by a large set of dark oak double doors. They were, in military fashion, plain and fitted with simple brass handles that had been, also typically, so highly polished you could have shaved in them.
“Captain Loam?” The Lieutenant gave me a sidelong glance. “I’m going to introduce you to the Commander of the garrison, Marshal-”
“Well, come in! Come in! Don’t just stand there with the bloody door open all day, Argo!” The deep yet commanding feminine voice rolled out into the hallway, cutting off Argo who merely rolled his eyes.
“Captain, the Marshal is a little, shall we say, ‘unorthodox’ in her manner,” Argo explained in hushed tones. “I expect however, that you will manage to maintain your decorum despite her...” Argo sighed, “Just… oh, sod it, lets-”
“Aha! Here you are!” A snow white muzzle appeared around the door frame complete with spectacles on her muzzle and… curlers?! “Great leaping alicorns, I should have a buggering revolving door fitted with all these bludgers coming in and out all day!” I nearly leaped out my hide as she bore down on me. “Well, out with it stallion! What is it now, is the privy still leaking or are we out of blasted breakfast muffins again?” She threw her forelegs up in air in an extraordinary display of eccentric exaggeration. “And I don’t know how times I have to tell those dullards that there is a difference between cake muffins and bloody breakfast muffins! How in the seven hells am I supposed to run this place properly if the clowns in procurement can’t even get that right?” She stormed over to the desk and poured herself a glass of something that smelled potent even from where I was standing. “I mean, for Celestia’s sake, currants in a breakfast muffin! How are you supposed to butter that, let alone put jam on the thing I ask you?! What the hell is the blasted afterlife coming too? I’d be better off putting the cat in charge.”
“Um… Argo?” I whispered. “What should I-”
“And what are you two whispering about, eh?” The white mare’s blue eyes blazed as she advanced on me. “Got something to say, say it stallion! Come on, out with it!”
“I… er...”
Thank the goddesses Argo came to the rescue. “Ma’am, this is Captain Loam,” he began, “late of the Equestrian Watch. He’s expressed an interest in-”
“Has he now?” the white mare interrupted. “Don’t care for the name though. Loam sounds far too much like ‘muck’ to me. Have another name do you, stallion?”
“A… Another name?” I stammered.
“Yes!” The Marshal rolled her eyes. “Are you hard of hearing stallion? What’s your full name? Speak!”
I swallowed, “Fairlight, Ma’am. Fairlight Loam. I don’t tend to use my surname.”
She nodded, “And damned right too. Far too pretentious all these silly names. They had proper names back in my day. Names that meant something, not all these airy fairy names like Twinkle Wotsit and Toilet Sparkle.” She grinned broadly and clopped me on the shoulder. “So, Captain Fairlight it is then, yes?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Right then, let’s have a look at it then.”
I blinked in surprise. “Eh?!”
The marshal let out a loud sigh of exasperation. “Your cutie mark, stallion, your cutie mark!”
Argo gave me a nudge, and dutifully, if a little warily, I turned my flank to the Marshal and lifted my overcoat.
“Ah! Simple and to the point, eh? A magnifying glass.” The marshal smiled to herself. “Damned good item for working with the watch I say. Give us a clue, eh what?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied simply.
She eyed me up and down. “Fine form, strong back, and you have a look about you that tells me you’ve seen the elephant my boy.” The Marshal nodded slowly. “Yes… yes…” Suddenly she thumped the desk and barked out a laugh, “I like the cut of your jib, Captain Fairlight. I do.” She waved a hoof dismissively towards the door. “Close the door on your way out would you dear, it’s perishing in here when it’s left open.” Argo snapped off as a salute and turned for the door. “And will you speak to the kitchen about those bloody muffins! If I’ve told them once I’ve told them a thousand times...” She sighed and trotted around the desk to her chair. “Drink?”
I nodded, “Yes please, Ma’am.”
“Ha!” The odd creature poured out a stiff measure of whatever was in the bottle and push it over to me as she swung her hind legs up onto the desk. “I like a fellow who knows what he wants. It was the reason I married my hubby after all. Now there’s a stallion who knows his spirits and knows which side of a muffin to butter too.” For a moment she chuckled to herself before suddenly leaning forward with a raised eyebrow. “Are you married, Captain?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied smartly. “With two foals.”
“Two foals, eh?” She frowned in thought. “Both here?”
“No Ma’am,” I replied, politely taking my drink. “One is still in the mortal realm.”
“Ah… damned bad luck that, Captain. Damned bad luck.” The mare blinked her large blue eyes and flicked her mane, peering at me for an uncomfortably long time. “Have you been here long?”
Embarrassingly I opened and closed my mouth like a gasping fish. I didn’t know! How long had I been dead? Six weeks? Six months? Damn it all it could have been years for all I knew! I’d lost track of time altogether and it was no surprise either. In a place where time meant nothing and you had no reason to concern yourself about it, there was simply no necessity to keep track. When I was in the watch I would have been able to tell you what time it was without a watch, whereas now I didn’t even know what day of the bloody week it was. Goddesses, I left all that to Meadow now. I closed my eyes and tried not to look a complete fool.
“Not long, Ma’am,” I answered honestly.
The Marshal nodded slowly. “I know how it is, Captain, barely been here five minutes myself. Dead one minute and Marshal of the Royal Guard the next.” She shrugged. “Guess they were pretty desperate, eh?”
I merely nodded, wary of causing any offence.
“Take a seat my boy.” She held out a hoof indicating one of the surprisingly comfortable looking chairs. “Can’t stand ponies standing around all the time. Looks untidy don’t you know.”
The marshal’s eyes never left me as I sank into the plush chair and my body began to relax almost immediately, although my mind remained locked onto the peculiar mare before me. There was something in her eyes that made my mane itch, and it wasn’t her surprisingly unnerving resemble to Celestia either. Hell fire, other than the mane and tail they could have been twins. Oh, and the lack of a horn and wings too. Come to think of it, the only thing they really had in common was her coat colour. So why… Ah, the eyes, of course. The way those deep blue orbs stared into you as though reading the inside of your skull was like having your soul bared to the world. Physically she was attractive certainly, but I felt something else inside me stir when our gazes met. Was it… fear? No… there was something else. Something I couldn’t quite put my hoof on.
“So, what bring you to our door, Captain?” she asked, cocking her head to one side curiously. “I presume you have at least some interest in joining our merry band, or did you just get lost on the way to the bookies?”
“Bookies?” I frowned, scrubbing my mane furiously. Damn it, that itch was driving me nuts! I gave myself a shake and a tried to find the cool, calm centre that I clung to in moments such as these. Reaching down, feeling inside myself mentally, was soothing, calming, like stroking a sleeping cat before a roaring fire knowing that within that sleepy, gentle exterior, was swift and sudden retaliation. I felt a smile tickle my lips as I spoke. “My father in law believes that I need a profession to help me adjust to life in the herd, Ma’am.”
“Does he, now?” The marshal reached over and topped up my glass with deft hooves that made my use of magic look clumsy. “And who is your father in law?”
“Apple Pop, Ma’am,” I replied.
The Marshal smiled, “Ah, yes. Capital fellow. Made quite the impression on me, your father in law. Haven’t had that much time to get round all the gang yet, but all good things in time I say.” She waved a hoof at my brandy. “Get that down you, stallion. It’ll put hairs on your chest.” I took a sip of the brandy and nodded to her as she continued, “So, having trouble adjusting, eh?” A pair of bluee eyes looked me up and down. “And what do you think, Captain?”
“Me?” I shook my head. “Truthfully Ma’am, I’m not sure. I’ve tried everything else, but if I can contribute something to the community could also help me in the process, then what have I got to lose by trying?”
“What indeed...” The marshal watched me over her glass, her lush mane catching my eye. It was deep blue, lustrous, and cut surprisingly short. Everything about this mare screamed ‘military’. From the way she stood, right down to the way she had her mane and tail cut. Her cutie mark was hidden beneath a knee-length tunic that adorned simply with a border of gold thread. Tasteful, yet practical. I had the impression she could drink me under the table too. “I’ll be straight with you, Captain,” the marshal began, “If you want to join us then I’ll approve your application straight away. I know for a fact the boys would welcome a new set of hooves around here, and the goddesses know we’re short hoofed as it is. It’s an important job we do, and one that few have the stomach for.” She huffed under her breath, “Too much poofy frilliness in modern age ponies for my liking. Rather sing about problems than damned well do something about them. Ha! Where would we be if we all took that attitude, eh?”
“I don’t know, Ma’am,” I replied.
“Up shit creek is where, stallion!” She sighed and took a pull on her pipe, watching the pungent smoke drift up to the ceiling. “Things were different in my day. A pony knew where they were when I was alive, and serving your country was something you wanted to do, not made to do like it is nowadays.” She rolled her eyes and took another sip of her brandy. “As I said, I haven’t been in the herd long myself, but some of those clever dick shiny arses in the ivory tower thought I’d be ideal for the job for some reason. And now that I’m here, by thunder I intend to get this place running ship shape if it kills everypony here in the process! Again!” She smiled wickedly, “I’m not complaining you understand, Captain, but my predecessor was far too slack in his approach for my liking, and a slack stallion is neither use nor bloody ornament to anypony. Correct?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Well I’m sure that baking cakes and keeping a clean hearth and home may be the pinnacle of ecstasy for some ponies, but I for one am damned glad I have a job that keeps me from going bonkers from boredom, Captain. And aside from providing an essential service to the herd, the job has its perks too of course.” The marshal raised an eyebrow, probably expecting me to ask the obvious question. Instead I simply nodded and she continued, “I take it Apple Pop explained what we do here?”
“I believe it’s finding lost souls, Ma’am,” I replied honestly.
The marshal hoof thumped loudly on the desk making the glasses jump. “Absolutely, Captain!” She jabbed a hoof at me, her voice booming around the office. “Souls wandering around all over the place like blasted confetti at a wedding. It won’t do, Captain. It’s untidy, and unprofessional.”
“Souls wandering around?” I asked feeling more than a little surprised by this revelation. “Aren’t all departed souls supposed to come here?”
“Supposed to, yes.” The white mare shrugged, “But sometimes things that have happened to them in life can anchor them to the mortal world or, in more extreme cases, set them adrift in the nether world.” She nodded to herself, taking another pull on her pipe. “Of course, they tend to come here in their own good time, but others… well, that’s where we come in.”
“Soul hunters,” I said quietly.
“Silly name, wouldn’t you agree?” she replied. “But accurate, nonetheless.” The marshal suddenly jumped up and bellowed towards the door, “ARGO! Get your carcase in here, stallion!”
The door opened almost immediately, followed by the long suffering face of the Lieutenant. “You yelled, Ma’am?”
“Damned right I did!” the marshal snorted. “Have Captain Fairlight shown around, would you?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
The white mare adjusted her cloak and fixed me with a disturbing grin. “You two run along and have a look at our operation here. If you like what you see, Captain Fairlight, then Argo here will sort out the paperwork.” She chuckled, “Bureaucracy follows you even here, eh, Argo?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“And get that blasted mane cut, will you?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
At Argo’s offered hoof I stood and snapped off a salute. “Thank you Ma’am.” I paused, “Er, excuse me Ma’am, I don’t know your name?”
“Ah! Now where’s my manners?” She grinned broadly. “Golden Spoon’s the name. Late Colonel of the Celestian Royal Guard. I suppose it’s the ‘Equestrian’ Royal Guard now though, eh what?” She nickered and poured herself another brandy, gazing up at the ceiling. “Soft arsed posers. Now in my day they were proper soldiers. The best of the best...”
“Come on,” Argo whispered. “Once she starts going on about this we’ll never get away.”
“But…!” I protested.
“Belt up and follow me!” he hissed.
Argo had a point; I could still hear the marshal grousing as we rounded the corner into another corridor. She seemed a friendly sort, if a little peculiar, but she was typical of the higher echelon military types I’d met during functions and presentations over the years. The army had a tendency to attract the upper classes into positions of authority, if not outright recruiting them at source, but that was something I’d put down to the good old catch all term ‘snobbery’. As a pony I was probably as common as dirt, at least to those like the marshal, but I was who I was and that was something I’d lived with all my life. The types of ponies who lived in those swish country manors, the marble and gold villas around Caterlot and who often held lofty positions in the royal court, were as alien to me as understanding the minds of, say, Yaks. And, I would have to say, I had as little interest in either. Now Argo seemed more my sort of fellow.
“Is she usually like this?” I asked.
The lieutenant sighed, “Always.” He huffed under his breath. “She’s old school. Fought in the war against the Legion as Colonel of the Royal Guard and ended up here calling the shots.” The stallion barked out a laugh, whether ironic or not I couldn’t tell. “The old girl’s a bit nutty but she knows her stuff alright. And a good thing too: the seat was barely cold from our last C.O before she made herself at home and started brushing the cobwebs away.” He smiled, “She’s the real deal, Captain. And one we need too.”
“Who was the last C.O?” I asked conversationally.
“Some chap from down country,” Argo replied. “Decent sort of fellow, but more interested in mares than work. How he got the position is anyponies guess. Personally I like the new one, and change is not always hard to swallow here.”
“Or in the mortal realm for the matter,” I concurred.
Argo nodded, “You got that right.”
“What happened to him?” I asked, “Did he retire?”
Argo shook his head. “Nah, took the long walk.”
“The long walk?”
“Reincarnation.”
My skin shivered involuntarily. “Oh.”
Argo must have noticed my reaction and shrugged it off. “It happens. Ponies get sick of all of the blue sky, sunshine and rainbows, and one day they just… walk away.”
“That’s like… death for the dead,” I muttered.
The lieutenant chuckled. “Really? A new chance at a different life?” He snorted loudly, “You may think differently about it one day.”
“I don’t know...” My mind began to recoil at the very notion. “Goddesses above, Argo, it’s like that movie Meadow and I went to see one time, the one where they kill everypony when they hit thirty so they can keep their youthful utopian vision alive.”
“You mean Yoghurt’s Run?” Argo sudden burst out laughing, “Luna’s bum, you have one active imagination, Captain!”
Argo’s laughter broke through my concern like an ice breaker. Maybe he and Bourbon were right, maybe paradise really could wear on you to the point where you wanted nothing more than to simply ‘reset’ everything and start again. I could see the appeal if not necessarily agree with it, and if I’d been asked some other time, I may indeed have had a different take on things than I had at the moment. But perhaps… perhaps this, here with these ponies, was a different kind of opportunity at a new beginning for me. Just one that didn’t erase everything about you and plop you right back into the mortal realm as a newborn foal. If that alicorn Thalio and his gang had had their way with me then… hang on… alicorn?
“Argo?”
“Yeah?”
“Being a soul hunter doesn’t mean I have to become… you know… an alicorn does it?” I asked.
“Eh?” Argo blinked in surprise at my question. “An alicorn? Oh… No, no it doesn’t. Some of the guys here are, but not everypony.” He paused, “You don’t want to become one do you?”
“No!” I felt a shiver run through me. “Goddesses, I couldn’t imagine...” Couldn’t I? The ability to fly again was certainly tempting, but the haughty attitude that seemed to come with being an alicorn was something that gave me the shivers.
“I know what you mean,” Argo continued. “I had the offer but refused it. The royal family like bestowing ‘honours’ on those who contribute to the herd and being made an alicorn is one which a lot of the old hooves clamour for. Personally I like my hooves on the ground. Being an earth pony is who and what I am. Wings and a horn? Please!”
“But some are though, right?” I asked. “Like Thalio and Helio and-”
“You know them?” Argo asked in surprise. “Ah… yes, of course you do.” He stopped dead in his tracks as he turned to face me. “Captain, listen to me carefully. After what happened with you and those three...” He closed his eyes. “Just… don’t mention the wendigo thing, understand? Some things are best kept under your hat.”
Fantastic. I’d barely walked through the door and my reputation had preceded me even here. Sometimes I cursed who I was, but I would be damned if I’d let some ruffled feathers, quite literally, ruin my chances at a new start. I nodded to Argo, “I won’t say a thing.”
“You probably won’t have to,” Argo replied. “Your name will be all they need. I think we’d better use a pseudonym.”
“A pseudonym?” I asked. “What, a fake name?”
“Why not?” Argo said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. “Lots of the hunters have them.” He jabbed me in the chest with a hoof. “You think you’re the only pony who has a past they want to hide?” He huffed and gestured to me to follow him. “There’s plenty of ponies here who were notable in their day, and believe me, if you want peace and quiet, changing your name is a damned good way to do it. Some ponies turn their muzzles up at what we do too.”
I was amazed. “They do? But finding lost souls is an important job! How could anypony take umbridge with that?”
Argo shook his head. “How? How did ponies view the watch in Equestria, Fairlight?”
“I...” I thought for a moment and sighed. “Like we were invisible.”
“Or a necessary evil,” Argo added bitterly. “You ask most Equestrians and they probably don’t even know they have an army, let alone a police force.”
“They remember quickly enough when they’re needed though,” I replied.
Argo nodded, “They do indeed. But you see why we don’t go around advertising what we do?”
I did. We were treated like ghosts for the most part, until the house was on fire. “They like to live in their own happy little bubble of reality, and anything that threatens that-”
“Is to be avoided like the plague,” Argo finished. “Right then, here we are.” He opened a rather innocuous looking door into a large round room with a high domed ceiling. It was dark, lit only by small magical lanterns set into the wall at equal intervals. “Welcome... to the nerve centre.”
Was this the briefing room? There were several chairs set out along with the odd desk, but certainly not enough for anything like I was used to in the watch for morning briefings. I was about to question this when Argo suddenly reared up, clopping his forehooves together and took a deep breath...
“Mappa Mundi!”
Light burst in the room with such intensity I nearly cried out in surprise. My horn itched with the reaction to the sudden surge in magical energy, gradually fading away to the familiar background warmth of being in the presence of a high intensity thaumaturgical source. And by Celestia’s ample backside, was it ever! Gradually my eyes began to adjust to the incredible sight before me. They were… globes? Yes, globes of pale blue light, all floating in the centre of the room.
“Sorry about that,” Argo said trying to stifle a chuckle. “Should have warned you to close your eyes until they adjust.”
“Yeah...” I waved his comment off, my attention caught entirely by the mysterious globes floating before us. Thy were simply incredible! Depicted in thin blue outlines were what were clearly landmasses, islands, seas. Looking closer I could make out forests, rivers, towns…
“Clever isn’t it?” The lieutenant said proudly. “One of the girls made the whole thing voice activated too so those of us who don’t have horns stuck on their head can access the whole matrix system.”
“Matrix system,” I muttered. “What is this, Argo? A map of some kind?”
“More than a map,” he said quietly. “This is our oracle, a map of all the planes of existence, including Equestria.” Argo began to walk around the circumference of the room, the blue light reflecting off his armour and his eyes alike. “Oh the unicorns among us would have us give it all kinds of fancy names, but it’s what it does which is what we really need to know. This thing is the bread and butter of our operation.” He pointed to one of the globes, “See this? This is the eternal herd, and here,” he marked out another of the globes, “is them mortal realm. Where did you live, Captain?”
I licked my dry lips, my natural curiosity piqued beyond comprehension. “Smiling Borders,” I answered.
“New to me,” Argo shrugged, “but alright. Equestria, yes?”
I nodded.
“Matrix, focus on Smiling Borders, Equestria. Standard magnification.”
There was a background tinkle of bells and the scene shifted, rotating to exclude the other orbs and zooming in, closing in on… “My goddesses...” I breathed. “That’s incredible!”
“Isn’t it?” Argo was clearly pleased by my reaction.
Sure enough, there before me was an aerial view of the town where I had lived with Tingles, Lumin and Shadow, all picked out in those thin blue lines floating suspended in the air by a level of magical ingenuity I never thought possible. I could see the road, the village houses, even the Wyvern’s Tail, the inn where I had thought I’d live out my days until… that happened.
“And this shows you where the lost souls are?” I asked.
Argo nodded, “Exactly. We receive information from the bureau regarding any souls that haven’t arrived, and after a pre-determined period of time we dispatch one of the collection teams to bring them in.”
“What are all these other globes for?” I asked.
Argo waved a hoof. “Matrix, zoom out map level one, please.” The blue light shifted again and the globes were back. “Some of the planes, or realms, are controlled by their own gods. Our jurisdiction normally covers the mortal realm, but on occasion we may be called upon to enter one of the others depending upon the type of recovery mission. It’s rare,” he said said with a shrug, “but it does happen.”
“And the Withers?” I asked quietly, staring at the map. “Is that here?”
“Oh yes.” Argo pointed to one of the globes, “There.”
He indicated another of the globes. Here and there were clearly marked out locations of villages and, like Equestria, each had their names below them. I could clearly make out ‘The Beyond’, ‘Purple Sands’, and more, many more. I confess I was surprised by just how many there actually were. I was also surprised by the sheer scale of the volcanic region where the dragons resided. A thought popped into my head, “Argo, what happens to thestrals when they die?”
He shrugged, “They have their own afterlife the same as we do,” he explained. “Can’t say I have much to do with them, but I guess you did, yes?”
I nodded, “They’re dying out.”
Argo grimaced. “Yeah, that’s too bad. But the old races… well, that’s something way outside my pay grade if you know what I mean.”
Unfortunately I did. ‘Not my problem’ was a common attitude I’d encountered repeatedly during my career, and it wasn’t just confined to the watch either. Most ponies lived in their own happy little world, oblivious to the horrors that lurked outside of it. Those less fortunate: the poor, the victims of crime – it always happened to somepony else. In fairness to Argo though, what could he, or anypony for that matter, do about the plight of the thestrals anyway? And indeed, why should they be bothered in the first place? They were the ancient enemy of Equestria and it didn’t matter how long ago the war had been or how many friends I had made amongst them in the Withers, there were some things that were simply too big for any one pony to do anything about. Even if they had the will to do it in the first place. The majority of equestrians had probably never heard of thestrals outside of fairytales or musty old history books. I certainly hadn’t until I’d been unceremoniously dumped into their world after being half killed by the sort of thugs that same majority didn’t think existed either. It was a sickening display of ignorance which our ‘glorious princesses’ did nothing to address, and an ignorance that had nearly cost them their lives when the changeling horde came knocking. Things had changed after that, carried along on a wave of rumour and conjecture about just how safe our pretty little world truly was. Celestia being attacked in her own throne room, Cadence being captured and the capital being invaded, were realities that were simply too large to be covered up effectively. The royal family had no choice but to address everything head on or else run the very real risk of losing the trust of the people. But even so I had my doubts about the extent to which the royal court would allow the cold harshness of reality to be filtered down to the nervous masses. Ponies were skittish creatures at the best of times and Celestia would be fully aware of the need to keep the lid well and truly fixed on that can of worms for fear of open panic amongst the populous. Meanwhile I could only hope that they would be making more of an effort to improve the military and the watch, weeding out those insidious tendrils of corruption that had undermined them so they could make Equestria strong enough to defend itself once more. I’d even had a hoof in that myself. Once.
“What happens if a soul isn’t collected?” I asked. “Worse case scenario.”
Argo didn’t answer at first, instead he stared up into the blue orbs, his gaze distant as though he were running his response through the filter of his mind until he finally answered, “Several things. None of them good.” He glanced over his shoulder at me before refocussing on the ethereal blue projection of Equestria. “A soul can ‘fade’, becoming a spirit wandering the nether world, forever embittered and twisted, one malevolent and hostile to any who bear the light of life within them. Others… well, I’d say it was best not to think about it too much to be honest with you.”
“So it does happen?” I asked.
Argo nodded his head grimly. “Sometimes, which is why we have to act quickly on recovery missions.” He waved his hooves and shouted, “Finis,” at which the light winked out, plunging the room into semi-darkness once more. “We haven’t had one go missing for quite some time, Captain. In fact, the first one to go ‘missing’ since I’ve been here was the one I’m looking out right now.”
“Oh.” I felt my mane twitch and I swallowed. “I see.”
“Still, all’s well that ends well, eh?” He clopped me on the shoulder, breaking me out of my ruminations. “Come on, plenty more to see!”
There was too. I don’t how many rooms we saw, but it was all there: the mess hall, the barracks, the officers quarters, assembly hall, training area… the list went on. I think Argo must have been either bored or actually enjoyed showing prospective new recruits around this monument to military architecture. That said it was certainly a lot more informal than I was used to, but I’d heard stories of recruiting tricks from times long since gone, and they way they would lull you into a false sense of security by coming across as your friend just before clobbering you over the head. The prospect of being ‘pressed into service’ was something that had definitely crossed my mind. Here though, what was the point? What enemies were there to fight? Goddesses, it looked like the swords and spears in the armoury had been polished so much that the blades were near paper thin. I doubted they’d ever seen anything more exciting than parade use and for sparring in what must be countless millennia. Now that I think about it, the ponies here clearly had a lot of time on their hooves, but in typical army fashion had used that time to clean their home top to bottom - so much so you could have eaten you dinner off the floor. I remember looking down at the granite tiles in the hall and seeing my own reflection staring back at me. Great galloping alicorns, how in Equestria do you polish granite?! One other thing that struck me too was the sheer number of stallions and mares here. There were dozens, if not hundreds if you counted those out on patrol, on sentry, and of course, the ‘collection’ teams, rather more enigmatically known within the ranks as the ‘soul hunters’. I was beginning to see Pop’s point with all of this though, as there was a real feeling of camaraderie here, a sense of ‘belonging’, that I could see even just walking around the place. It was on the faces of the troops, in the care they took with the appearance of the buildings, and even in the expressions of officers we passed. These guys and gals wanted to be here, they were proud of who and what they were. It was, metaphorically as well as physically, their home.
We finally ended the tour by the on-site tavern. Unsurprisingly it looked like the rest of the barracks, from its immaculately polished windows to the smart flower boxes flanking the door as if they too were on sentry duty. Blood red flowers, the colour of the Equestrian flag, stood in ranks, stoic even in the warm sunshine.
“You look like a fellow who needs a drink, Captain.” Argo held out a hoof to the door, “What can I get you?”
I gratefully took a seat outside and smacked my lips. He was right, I felt as dry as bone inside and out. “Wheat beer?” I asked.
“Back in a minute.”
Argo disappeared inside as I let myself relax. And relax I did. I hadn’t felt this at ease since I’d been to see Bourbon and ran like the hounds of the underworld were nipping at my particulars all the way home. ‘Home’… Well, at least Meadow wouldn’t be looking to string me up this time, not with daddy being-
“Settling in?”
“Bloody hell!” I sat bolt upright, staring straight into the far too knowing eyes of Apple Pop. “Buggering alicorns, Pop, you scared the bloody life out of me!”
The green stallion barked out a laugh, clearly amused at his own ‘hilarious’ wit. The sneaky old sod was as quiet as a cloud in the night sky, and just as unseen. “Letting your guard down, Fairlight,” he huffed as he took a seat oppose me at the rough sawn wooden table. “So, been having a look round have you?”
I nodded, picking my words carefully. “I have. Argo has given me the full tour, and I have to say I’m quite impressed.”
“Glad to hear it,” Argo said, reappearing with two foaming mugs. “Place is quiet at this time of day, so no queue.” He nodded to Pop, “Usual Pop?”
The green stallion gave him wink and the lieutenant went back to fetch our new companion a mug of his own. “Had any thoughts about joining us, then?” Pop asked.
I took a mouthful of my beer and licked a stray drip of foam away with a smile. I had. What Meadow would think about it all was something I would have to face later, but I had one advantage: the equine shield – daddy. “Let me ask,” I said with the most sardonic smile I could muster, “is there a coin in the bottom of my beer?”
“Taking the kings bit?” Apple Pop snorted and took a pull on his ale. “Old fashioned press ganging tactics are something you won’t find here. We’re all volunteers.”
“And now you’ve found another.”
Pop paused, looking up at me from his mug. “You’re sure?”
I grinned, feeling tension I hadn’t even realised was there slipping from my shoulders. “Hell, why not? It’s not like I've got anything better to do than gardening, and there's only so many petunias you can prune before you end up with bats in the belfry.”
“And Meadow?”
“Ah…” I closed my eyes and sighed. “I was kind of hoping I had a little backup on that score.”
Apple Pop threw up his forelegs, “You want me to talk to your wife?!” He shook his head as he leaned across the table, “Oh no, that’s you’re domain, my dear son in law. I’m the poor sod who’ll have to deal with Merry for getting you into this in the first place. And trust me, you haven’t seen her when she gets in one of those moods.”
Oh goddesses, this was all starting to sound dangerously familiar. I’d been on the receiving end of Meadow’s moods more times than I cared to remember. I stared into my pint mug, “Hmm, I think I know where Meadow gets it from now.”
“You’d better believe it,” Pop replied. “Ah, Argo! Welcome back, sir. Got yourself a beer?”
“Just as well,” Argo noted flicking his muzzle to indicate Pop’s half empty mug, “since you’ve already pinched mine, you old sod.”
Pop grinned, “Well, you said you going to get one anyway, so look at this way: you’ve got an even fresher one than this.” He took another swig. “Best get it before it warms up, I always say.”
“And never leave drinks around old warriors unless you don’t mind paying for another,” Argo quoted.
“Humph! Haven’t heard that one,” Pop muttered.
The afternoon rolled on with smiles, quips, and Pop and Argo chatting about old times. Despite the sometimes lengthy stories involving ponies I’d never heard of, the two of them were pleasantly accommodating with me and explained who they were talking about so I could keep up with them. From what I was hearing here, the ‘good old days’ were about as far from ‘good’ as you could get. In actual fact they were a damned site more brutal than I’d given them credit for. Being something of a history nut myself, I was absolutely riveted. So much so that we were well into our fourth round before the stories began to become, what I would define generously as, a bit silly.
“Hey, do you remember old Arse Fartington?” Argo chuckled.
Pop frowned for a moment before leaning back agog, “You don’t mean the griffin butchers son from Fetlock?” Argo answered with an enthusiastic nod. “Gods above,” Pop exclaimed, “what ever happened to that flatulent little piglet?”
“Tried ta swindle young Maggy from the bakers out of her winnings is what,” Argo said, knocking back another mouthful.
“Never in the world!” Pop shook his head in amazement. “Did he have a death wish, the fool? Maggy was built like a brick outhouse and as mean as that damned alsatian she used to keep too.”
“Yeah.” Argo took a mouthful of beer, swallowing noisily before burping, “Disappeared you know.”
“Who disappeared?” I asked curiously. “Maggy?”
“Nah, Arse.” The lieutenant tried to stifle a laugh and ended up nearly choking. “Vanished, just like that!” He banged a hoof on the table for emphasis.
“You think Maggy was involved?” Pop asked.
Argo nodded rather more than he actually needed to. Thanks be to the goddesses I wouldn’t have far to carry him home. As for Pop, he was rapidly becoming as merry as I was feeling too.
“Never found anyfin’ on ‘er,” Argo burped again, “Tell you what though, that dog of ‘ers looked a lot fatter soon after.” He gave us both a conspiratorial nod.
“What happened to the dog?” Pop asked quietly.
Argo grinned, leaning in with a wave of his hoof, “I’ll tell ya, since we’s all mates an all.” Dutifully we leaned in, keen to hear the fate of the furry accomplice. “He’d been to the vets you know, with bad guts. Vet says that ‘e ‘ad been eatin’ a rich diet. Very rich diet.” He hiccuped loudly which only made him grin all the more. “Farts comin’ out of ‘im were somethin’ fierce. Old mare wotsit down the road said you could ‘ear ‘im ‘owlin’ all night an’ the stench was so bad she could smell ‘im from ‘er ‘ouse.”
“So what happened next?” I asked curiously.
“It was bad back then y’know,” Argo said, continuing with his tale. “Not much in the way o’ magic lanterns, whizzy-wotsits an all that magic stuff, like what there is now.” He nodded slowly, holding up a wavering hoof for emphasis. “So one night, Maggy gets up to let the dog out ‘cause the smell is gettin’ too much even for ‘er.” He paused.
“Yes?” I asked. “And?”
Argo lifted his hooves, taking a deep breath for effect. “She lit a candle.”
“BOOM!”
Apple Pop’s hooves slammed down on the table making me jump in surprise. That rotten old swine! Gods give me strength, my heart was hammering in my throat and I’d managed to get beer up my nose too, making me sneeze like some blasted enraged foghorn. Of course my delightful friends here thought my misery to be highly amusing and their laughter rolled out around the front of the tavern, much to my distress and the hilarity of passing patrons. Still, even I had to raise a smile in the end. Like two old soldiers, the pair who looked no younger nor older than I, clopped me on the shoulder and… ordered another round.
Goddesses help me!
********************
Happy, half drunk, or as near as you could be in the herd, Pop and I said our farewells to the royal guard, two of whom helped do the honours and carried the now helplessly inebriated lieutenant back to his bunk. As for me, I all but fell on top of Pop in the process of loading him into the taxi. I’d have thought the miserable buggers at the barracks would have given us a lift back in a sky chariot, but no… no, we had to get a bloody taxi didn’t we. Celestia’s buttocks how I was sick of those bloody things! And why did it have to rock so much? I must have shouted at the driver to stop it at least a dozen times, but I’m sure the ignorant bugger was deliberately ignoring me. Now if I could only make my hind legs work…
When we finally reached the cottage the garden gate was mercifully open, and I managed to help Pop fall out of the taxi with the aid of the driver who, oddly, left without asking for a tip. I guess he must have been paid already by the barracks staff, which suited me just fine. I belched loudly and let out a right ripping fart that poor old Pop caught right in the muzzle. Well, not that he really cared much at the time, the old bugger was so far gone I was near carrying him up to the-
“Oops! Hhhhello Mea… Mea… MEDDY!” I began to laugh. Not, as it turned out, a particularly effective survival strategy for a husband wanting to have a nice smooch.
“Gah! Get off me!” Meadow recoiled in horror, “Fairlight! You’re… you’re drunk! AGAIN!”
“Iz… iz my fault, p… pet...” Pop belched beside me and tried to give her a very wobbly grin. “We’ve only ‘ad a couple y’naa.”
“Don’t yer dare loi ter me, Apple Pop yer old soak!” The indomitable Meringue appeared like the angel of vengeance, rising up from behind the already furious outline of my long suffering wife. “An’ Fairloit, is this yer doin’?”
“N… No!” I blurted. “We jus- we ‘ad a couple-a pints an’ signed up for the army, tha’s all.”
“What?” Meadow looked me in right my grinning face and shook me so hard the world spun around like a top. “WHAT DID YOU SAY?!” She turned to her father, shoving me to one side, “Dad! DAD! What has done? What the hell have you made him do?”
“E’s… ‘e needed a damned good proff…” Pop swallowed and tried again, “Proffesh-shun.”
“Atten-shun!” I laughed, falling into the ivy.
“Shut up, you bloody idiot!” Meadow roared. “I can’t believe it! This can’t be happening! Mum… Mum, do something! Please! Oh, Celestia, I can’t take this, I really can’t...”
A sudden sense of alarm battered its way through my alcohol soaked head. “Meddy, I… Look...”
“OH, SHUT UP!” Meadow span round, facing her mother. “I can’t deal with them mum. I can’t!”And then I could hear it: crying, coming from far back in the cottage. “Now you’ve set Sparrow off!” A pair of yellow eyes flashed in the lamplight. “Get out. Both of you.”
“Eh?” Pop blinked in surprise, falling into me for support. “What’s that?”
“I said, GET OUT!” Meadow snarled.
I smirked. Considering the circumstances it probably wasn’t the best course of action. “We’re already out, dear.”
“Then you can bloody well stay out!”
“But-”
The door slammed in our faces and the light went out in the corridor, dropping Pop and I into nearly complete darkness. “Bollocks,” I snorted and wiped my muzzle on my sleeve. “Well, sod her. We can’t kip- Pop?” I looked round. “Pop?” A pair of hind legs protruded from the lavender patch, accompanied by a surprisingly soft snoring. “Well, guess that’s it then.” I staggered over to the shed and after slamming into numerous garden implements and goddess knows what else, emerged with two thick work blankets. Carefully, or as carefully as I could manage in the appalling state I was in, I lay the two blankets over Pop and spooned up next to him. Despite the scratchy stems of the lavender it was actually quite comfortable out here. In fact the gentle scent of the garden, soothing and comforting as it was, was really… quite… wonderful…
Morning broke with a downpour, straight from the upended kitchen washing up bowl. My muzzle had never felt so clean and refreshed, with a pleasant lemon scent too. Shame I wasn’t expecting an impromptu bath and I awoke with a yell of surprise.
“Breakfast is ready.” Meadow gave a half backward glance as she headed back to the kitchen. “If you’re capable.”
Beside me, the groggy and dew covered form of Apple Pop stirred. The lucky beggar had missed most of the deluge, unlike yours truly. Somehow I had the distinct impression my darling wife had missed him on purpose and hit me full on.
A pair of bleary eyes looked up at me, “Goddess have pity… what time is it?”
Wiping the suds from my eyes, which stung too by the way, I pulled my now sodden self from the blanket and helped my partner in crime up. “Breakfast time, apparently,” I sighed, trying my best to peel my mane from my forehead. “We’re really for it now.”
“Do you want me to go in first?” Apple Pop asked muzzily.
“And give you the pleasure of a saucepan to the muzzle?” I joked drily. “Not fair on a guest, that Pop. No, I suppose I’d better do it.”
“Fairlight?”
“Hmm?”
Pop raised an eyebrow, “There’s an azalia stuck in your nose.”
Suddenly I could feel it too. One deep breath later I gave the damned thing both barrels and the floral decoration shot from my nose in a blast of mucus, dirty wash water, and petals. How the hell had I managed to get that stuck in there? And then it came back to me: I’d been acting the clown and tried to pick a flower to put in the barmare’s mane back in the tavern. All I’d actually managed to do was trip over my own hooves and pitch muzzle first into one of the flower tubs, much to the amusement of a crowd of onlookers. Something about that struck me as odd though, and it wasn’t just the sheer stupidity of my behaviour either…
“Pop?” I asked.
The green stallion was still brushing himself off. “Yeah?”
“How did we get so drunk?” I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to will away the oncoming hangover.
“Alcohol comes to mind,” Pop replied drily.
I shook my head. Probably not the best course of action I could have taken considering the pounding pain that was starting to make its presence well and truly felt. “I thought the herd had some sort of magic that, you know, stopped you getting legless?”
Pop nodded, “It does.” He groaned and took some water from the bucket by the standpipe, swilling his face. “It doesn’t work in the compound. A special ‘gift’ from the royal family for the garrison.”
“They let you get drunk?!” I asked in amazement.
The old watchstallion blew water from his nose and gestured for me to rinse myself off too. “Why do you think so many of them are retired soldiers?” he asked.
“I thought it was because of the ‘old soldiers never die’ thing,” I answered.
“True up to a point,” Pop said muzzily. “But there’s more to it than that. Come on, we’d better get in or it’ll be more than just a saucepan.” He lead the way to the front door. “Some of the lads are ex-watch, some ex-military, and many have a strong sense of duty and honour that followed them even after death. For others though… it’s because it’s all they’ve ever known.”
“They’ve never had a life outside the army or the watch?”
“Sometimes,” Pop said quietly, “you can... become your job. It consumes you, becomes part of you.” He gave me a sidelong glance. “Sometimes you forget who you are and simply become just another part of the machine.”
I didn’t reply. I had the distinct sinking feeling I’d inadvertently hit a raw nerve, and now was definitely not the time to be exploring any further into the old fellow’s past. Perhaps he’d open up and tell me more about himself one day, but if and only when he was ready to do so. For now though I was simply glad that I’d managed to spend what you could call, if you were being generous, ‘quality time’ with my father in law. Come to think of it, it was in fact the most we’d spoken since I’d first met him after coming to the herd. I guessed it was simply because he didn’t like any stallion near his daughter, but had I really made much of an effort to make him think any better of me? I’d have thought that by being a member of the watch, as he had been, we’d have had more of a connection than we did. Perhaps the problem was more with me, or perhaps the problem had really been that I had been in the watch in the first place. And gods, he would have been right to have been angry with me over that life choice. Look where it had lead me, and all those whom I loved…
Breakfast continued with the uncomfortably frigid atmosphere I’d expected. Meringue and Meadow served us with mechanical precision, and about as much emotion. To say it was unpleasant wouldn’t be an accurate enough description. My backside felt like it was crawling in ants in anticipation of finishing up and getting out of there as soon as possible. But, to my small credit, I managed to sit still and face the inevitable. The only question in my mind now, was which poor sod was going to get it first: Me or-
“Are you going to speak or not?”
Oh hell…
I looked up at Meadow and attempted a meek manner that I hoped would go at least some way to soothing the fire in her eyes. “Meadow, I-”
“It was me.” All eyes were suddenly on Apple Pop. His voice held no emotion, no sense of weakness nor of strength. He simply commanded, no, demanded attention. Neither Meringue nor Meadow interrupted as he continued, “If anypony is to blame for what happened yesterday it is me.” The old green stallion took of sip of his tea. “Meadow, Merry, you know my feelings on this subject already. Fairlight is a stallion, and he needs direction. He needs, as all males do, a strong purpose as well a firm hoof in his life.”
Silence fell before finally Meadow spoke. “He has a firm hoof here, Dad,” she said firmly. “What he needs is his family, not… not the army.”
Apple Pop’s eyes locked onto Meadow with an inner light that brooked no nonsense from his daughter. Still, my beloved didn’t flinch one bit under that withering gaze. Goddesses, imagine having somepony like Pop for a father! I suddenly found myself developing a new found appreciation for Meadow and what she’d had to put up with growing up. Although I’d never considered Meadow to be a weak mare, she was clearly a lot stronger willed than I’d given her credit for and I felt a warm flush of pride burn through me. If we hadn’t have been married I’d have had no qualms about fighting beside her in the thick of battle. Now the only battle I had to contend with was whether I could open the jar of honey in the morning to put on my toast.
“Fairlight is a stallion, Meadow,” Apple Pop said calmly, “and stallions need other stallions to help guide them through life.”
“My husband doesn’t need other stallions leading him to drink and smoking, Dad!” Meadow replied levelly. “He’s old enough to know his own mind without a bunch of drunken louts leading him into more bad habits.”
Apple Pop put his cup down and peered at the table top. I held my breath as he looked up and locked eyes with his daughter. “What Fairlight needs is to be given direction, Meadow,” he said. “Something a mare wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh wouldn’t I?” Meadow hissed angrily in reply. “I suppose this is some ‘male’ thing is it? Like some sort of mystical ‘code of the stallion’ or some such rubbish!”
“What would a mare understand about brotherhood, Meadow?” Apple Pop replied. “About honour, fealty, and dignity?” He straightened up in his chair, his demeanour calm but oddly powerful. “Stallions need to be able to channel their instinctive drive in a positive and controlled manner, else it become self destructive, both to them and to those around them.”
Hell fire, he made me sound like some sort of nut case that was likely to explode in a wild orgy of violence at any moment!
“And what about their loved ones, Dad?” Meadow asked, no doubt biting back what she really wanted to say. “How do they fit into your little ‘stallions only’ club? Just for birthing and cooking are we?” Meringue put a warning hoof on her daughter’s shoulder but Meadow brushed it away. “Well?”
Pop looked up from his tea, “You are part of his life, Meadow, the same as you mother is in mine.”
“But?” Meadow asked.
“You can’t control every aspect of it.” Pop took a piece of apple and munched it down. “You’re smothering him.”
“I… I what?!” Meadow’s mane bristled.
“You’re treating him like a foal all the time,” Pop explained levelly. “I’ve seen you. You treat him the same way you do with Sparrow. It’s not good for him, and it’s not good for you either.”
“I do not baby him, Dad!” Meadow snapped. “For Celestia’s sake, can you hear yourself?”
Apple Pop finished his tea and stood, looking from me to Meringue and back to his daughter. “Yes. Clearly.” He motioned to me to stand. “I cut the apron strings with you when you were old enough to stand on your own four hooves, Meadow, and it helped make you the fine mare you are today. However, I can see that there was a part of your education that was clearly lacking, and I blame myself for that.”
“What are you going on about?” Meadow replied.
“That you treat stallions like children, Meadow,” Apple Pop said firmly. “We are neither children, infirm of mind, nor the imbeciles you appear to take us for.” He looked at the clock and nodded to me. “I believe we have an appointment with the department in two hours, so if you two ladies will excuse us, we must make ourselves presentable.” He raised an eyebrow. “Young Fairlight here needs to wash his muzzle. Apparently washing up liquid is no substitute for soap.”
And with that I was physically manoeuvred from the room.
“Dad? Fairlight! Get back here!”
Meadow’s voice, together with her mother’s attempts at placating her daughter, disappeared as the door was shut firmly behind me. Goddesses, my heart was thundering! I was going to catch a full barrage of Meadow’s fury after this episode. I suppose Pop was right in some of what he said, even if it was a bit ‘over-the-top’ to say the least. What the hell was all that about brotherhood and honour and stuff? Sure, I knew about what had happened in the beyond with… what was his name again? And then there was… ‘thingy’ and, what’s-his-name, and… I frowned as my head began to throb.
“Headache?” Pop asked, leading me to the bathroom. I nodded in reply. “It’s a response to the spell blocking unpleasant memories,” he explained. “The magic is triggered when you enter the herd. The intension is to create a sense of calm and well-being. It works for most.”
“But not all,” I said bitterly, rubbing my temples.
Pop shook his head, “No.”
“I’m beginning to suspect you know about that a lot more than you’re letting on,” I offered.
The green stallion paused. “Do you know what honour is, Fairlight?”
“Of course,” I replied. “The definition of honour is-”
“I’m not talking about the textbook definition,” Pop interrupted. He leaned a hoof against the wall and hung his head, “I want to know what it means to you. To the stallion inside your heart.”
“I...” I closed my eyes. Images of my friends, fragmented and broken as they were, flitted around like ash from a camp fire. They had stood by me, fought beside me. We had fought as one, together, and bled together for what we believed in. In what we stood for as one. “It is to risk everything,” I said quietly. “To go into the jaws of death with your brothers and sisters. It is…” I nodded to myself. “To do the right thing.”
“To do the right thing.” Pop looked round at me, his eyes catching the sunlight as it filtered through the small window beside him. “Meadow told you what happened to me, yes?” I nodded in reply. “Fairlight, Meadow doesn’t know everything that happened.” He sighed and ushered me into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. “We had been looking for a murderer. He’d killed at least six before I managed to track him down. To a school.” He closed his eyes and took a breath, fighting back the pain of the memories. “They were all foals. All of them. Why he did it, what his motivation was, I never discovered. But I knew, what we all knew, was that he had to be stopped. Whatever it took.” He glanced towards the window with a far away stare that chilled my heart. “He… tortured them, Fairlight. That monster tortured children before he… he killed them.” Pop paused. “You cannot know what that was like, Fairlight, seeing them like taht. One after another, week after week of finding… pieces.”
“But you found him, didn’t you,” I said quietly.
Pop nodded. “But not until the bastard had added me to his damned list.”
“But you did stop him though, Pop, didn’t you?” I was trying to remember what Meadow had told me all those years ago. I remembered the pain in her voice as she recalled the nightmarish scene she had experienced as a child, of watching her father’s passing before her very eyes.
“No.” Pop closed his eyes and shook his head. “We never found him.”
“But...”
Pop held up a hoof forestalling me. “When I arrived in the herd I was a mess. My memories, the bitterness and cruelty I had experienced, although dulled were enough to have me segregated from the rest of the herd’s populace until I was deemed ‘fit enough’ to be integrated without posing a danger to either them, or myself.”
“A danger?” I gasped. “But you were one of the good guys! You helped ponies for the goddess’s sake!”
Pop nodded, “True. But you see, Fairlight, a soul cannot rest easily with… ‘regrets’.” He gave a look that froze my heart. “You can make your own hell,” he lifted a hoof to my chest, “in here.” Pop sighed. “I’d thought many times of taking the walk, of leaving the herd to be reincarnated and have everything, all the pain and the heartache, washed away with the memories of what I’d seen. And then I met Argo, and he convinced me to sign on with the soul hunters.”
I looked at him with a renewed level of respect. And then it hit me... “You signed up to find him, didn’t you?”
Pop nodded slowly. “I did. I didn’t tell anypony in the hunters at first, but I think they knew. They all have their own reasons for being there.”
“Did you find him?” I breathed.
The old stallion gave a bitter laugh. “No, but it wasn’t for want of trying.”
“But the killings stopped after that night,” I said, recalling my long evenings trawling through old watch records. “The watch treated it as a cold case and it was filed. In all my time working for the watch it was barely ever mentioned.”
“I’m not surprised,” Pop said quietly, “who would want to admit we’d failed, Fairlight? Failed to protect those most innocent in society.” He gave his mane a shake. “And it wasn’t just the watch. It was me. I’d had him, Fairlight, I had him! I had that bastard in my hooves and I let him get the drop on me. Goddesses, I should have waited for backup to arrive, but no… no, I went in like the old fool I am and… and I was too slow. Too goddess damned slow...”
“But you saved a foal, Pop,” I said woodenly. “Meadow said you found a foal there and saved their life!”
Pop shrugged, “And how many more could he have gone on to kill because I decided to act the hero, Fairlight, eh? One? Two? A dozen?”
“But he never did.”
“No.” Pop huffed under his breath, “No, he never did.”
“So he’s still out there, in Equestria?” I shook my head in dismay. “He may be dead already.”
“Maybe,” Pop said quietly. “But if he is I sure as hell don’t know about it.”
“He could have gone straight to Tartarus,” I reasoned.
Pop shrugged, “Perhaps, but even so, the soul hunters would have been informed.”
“Or they didn’t want to tell you in case it sent you over the edge,” I said.
My father in law gave a bitter laugh. “And end up as another nut job?” he shrugged. “You could be right, Fairlight, you could be right. In any case, my point is that I did what I did because it was the right thing to do. I put my life in danger to save another because it was the right thing to do. Like here, saving lost souls. Merry may not like it, but to me, to help me deal with my past…”
“It’s the right thing to do,” I finished.
Pop nodded, “Sometimes doing hard or painful things to help others is a way to help ourselves. Some may believe that to be selfish, and perhaps it is in a way.” He smiled, “I wasn’t always the grouchy miserable sod I am now.” He held up a hoof forestalling me, “I know what I am, Fairlight, I’m not blind or deaf. No, once I was the local nightmare in our village: stealing apples, acting the fool and breaking windows with my catapult. Once I even pinched Mrs. Bun’s knickers off the line and tied them to her dog.” He chuckled at the memory before continuing, “When my father found out and he tanned my arse red raw. It took months for the fur to grow back, and even now when I sit down I flinch sometimes.” He passed me the face cloth and wash bowl. “My father made me apologise and work off the cost of the damage, and all the time banned me from wearing anything that would cover the evidence of my punishment. But it was later, when all the work had been finished and he was satisfied I had learned my lesson, that he gave me the best gift a son could ever receive from their father: he explained to me what it was to be a stallion.” Pop checked himself over in the mirror, wiping away a stray crumb left over from breakfast. “He said that the hardest thing for a stallion to be, was to be a stallion, that we had to make sacrifices in life to help those who cannot help themselves, and provide for those we love, to fight to protect our home and families.”
“It sounds very old fashioned,” I said honestly.
“Old fashioned perhaps,” Pop replied, “but it doesn’t make it any less true.”
“And Merry?” I asked. “Does she know about all this?”
Pop nodded. “Never hide anything from your family, Fairlight. They may be angry with you, they may even resent you for it for a time, but honesty and openness are far better choices in any relationship than deception or lies.” He gave me a knowing look. “They always find out. Always.” I took the towel and rubbed my face as Pop put out a hoof to stop me. “You haven’t told Meadow yet, have you?”
I froze, my heart sinking. I couldn’t even remember telling him about it, but being the blabber mouth I am I must have blurted it out during our drinking session last night. And he he was right too. Of course I hadn’t bloody well told her. How could I? That thrice damned wizard had told me that I was still bound in some way to my mortal body, and that Vela, Maroc’s son, was planning on finding a way back to the mortal world to wreak some sort of bloody vengeance for the tribe’s destruction over a thousand years ago. What devils had possessed him to set out on such an insane quest was beyond my comprehension, and indeed, his own father had been helpless to stop him. But all that, the meeting I’d had with Star Swirl and Maroc, now seemed like a lifetime ago. A thousand lifetimes even. I hadn’t heard anything from him in all this time and had simply put it out of my mind, and my marriage. I didn’t want to think about it. I couldn’t. And yet… and yet it was still there, like a bad tooth just waiting to remind you there was a problem you hadn’t done anything about. And one day, when you least wanted to be reminded about it… it would return. Damn him. Damn all his bloody kind!
“Fairlight?”
“No,” I answered quietly. “No, I haven’t.”
Pop sighed and began putting his jacket on. “Don’t leave it too late, Fairlight. She may be hurt by what you tell her, but she’ll never forgive you if you don’t tell her at all.”
“I know that, Pop,” I snapped, “But how the hell can I? Dear goddesses, do you know what that’ll do to her? In case you hadn’t noticed, my marriage isn’t exactly all roses and buttercups right now you know. Telling Meadow I may have to… that I could…” I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t even think about it!
Pop put a reassuring hoof on me. “I know,” he smiled. “But trust me on this. Yes?”
“Easy to say when you have a happy marriage with Merry,” I replied bitterly.
“You think?” Pop burst out laughing, “Great galloping alicorns, Fairlight! Merry and I fight like cat and dog!” He gave me a wink at my surprised expression. “Just because you don’t see it, doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. Ha! I can’t look a rolling pin without flinching even now.” He reached up and touched his forehead. “I’m sure she’s given me brain damage with the amount of whacks she’s given my skull over the years. If it wasn’t for the herd’s magic I’m sure she would have killed me a hundred times over.” He passed me my overcoat. “Now come on, let’s make a move. We’ve got enough time to walk it.”
“No taxi?” I asked.
“And waste such a beautiful morning?” Pop asked with a smile. “Besides, I think it best we, erm… disappear, before we get caught in another ‘uncomfortable situation’. Agreed?”
“Not very honourable,” I quipped.
Pop chuckled, “You know, I think for now we can put honour to one side in favour of self preservation.”
“He who fights and who runs away...” I laughed.
Pop opened the door and checked the coast was clear. “Absolutely. Come on, they’re still in the kitchen...”
Like thieves in the night, the two of us slipped out into the garden. A quick shouted “BYE!” was all we left in our wake, along with the clatter of pans and shouts of outrage that at some point I knew we would both have to answer for. Meanwhile at the back of my mind was the mental image of a young Apple Pop, pinching knickers off an angry mare’s washing line...