Antecedence Arc
Eight years ago…
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A beautiful summer day greeted the ponies of the tiny Protectorate of Tomar. Nestled on the east coast south of the Albin Empire—its ruling nation—the seasonally-minute town of Gitano bustled with visitors and activity. They were due for a good rainstorm, expected to arrive that night.
Among the throngs of ponies, a pink-coated foal under a voluminous mane of blonde could be seen weaving around underhoof.
Tessa Andemax galloped through the town market, “Mom! Mom, where are you? Dad?”
The newly nine-year-old filly bounded about, looking for her parents. That day her mother, Gunnhildr Andemax, was selling cuttings of her prize-winning Daylilies out of her cart.
For as well-known as she was, Gunnhildr kept a rather small operation. Despite this fact ponies came all the way from Albin and from all directions inland to purchase or just see the famous florist’s wares. And she delighted in keeping her stock accessible to everypony interested in flowers, selling them at a price to make her own ends meet. Many of the cultivars her own breeding efforts, she had plenty to enjoy.
Perhaps best of all was the Daylily garden she’d established in the town square to match a section popular at Albin’s Royal Garden in the capitol of Alba. It wasn’t many a small-town mare that was solicited to design and landscape the king’s newly-renovated palace. That garden was a marvel. Gitano’s was nothing to overlook either and was at its absolute zenith. Most of the visiting ponies stopped by to see the lovely grounds.
“Mom?” Tessa hopped atop a street sign, peering around. “Dad?”
Before marriage Anselme Andemax had been a proud young officer in the Albin air force. Once a Pegasus of great ability, he’d been shot down by unicorn bandits north of Albin, forcing him into humble retirement.
It was an overtold joke that Anselme and Gunnhildr were actually Earth ponies with wings sewn onto their backs; that was the greatness of their skills in horticulture. It was also a cruel joke, for neither could fly. While Anselme was a veteran Gunnhildr had been paralyzed in a building collapse. It was a tragic thing to many, the prize-winningly—quite literally—gorgeous pageant-mare cut down in her late teens, reduced to confinement in a wheelchair.
Anselme and Gunnhildr, neither having a prior interest in greenery, gravitated towards the art and science of horticulture, finding comfort in it. They also found they were really good at it. The two met while working at a greenhouse in Alba. There they became friends and there they fell in love. They would have even married there but there wasn’t room for the ceremony. The two of them, their talents recognized, wound up living on the palatial-grounds, tending the gardens as live-in wardens.
Against substantial odds and a risky pregnancy, the two had a filly. They started their own business, Gunnhildr having the mind for it, and soon moved out to the tiny town they now called home, away from the capitol. There they flourished, joyful that their daughter had such a place to grow up.
As far as Tessa went—riding high on her roost—the tiny, stunningly beautiful Pegasus wasn’t any bigger than a 6-year-old; she often had to jump or fly to see much of anything in a crowd. There was nothing wrong with her... she was just petite.
“Tess! Get down from there, you little pink terror!” a laughing voice called.
Tessa turned around on her perch and looked down; her eyes lit up, “Daddy!”
“G’morning, Tess.”
She hopped down to join her father.
He ruffled her main, “I know where your mother is. Let’s get going.”
“I gotta say, Dad, I wish it wouldn’t rain tonight…” Tessa could see the bad weather forming off the coast.
“We need the rain, Tess,” Anselme said. “And we’re getting it… I can feel it in my wings.”
“Meh…” Tessa grumbled.
“Other than that, how’re you today, squirt?” Anselme paddled through the town square, Tessa by his side.
The filly giggled at her nickname; she hated when the other foals used it but… she more than tolerated it from her father, “I’m okay, Daddy… I ate the breakfast you left for me. It was great!”
“Did you warm it up?”
Tessa lit up, “Of course! It’s so much better that way.”
“It was waiting on the table, still hot. Not as good as fresh out of the oven but I sure enjoyed it, though. Your mother makes the best cornbread.”
“What time did she get back?”
The mare had had business in Alba, dealing with the Royal Gardens.
“Well after we went to bed, Tess. We’ve been married a decade and I still don’t know how she does it. Traveling all day and into the night… taking an hour-long nap… and then bam! she’s fresh as a daisy, baking bread for us. I haven’t even seen her. She left a note, asking me to look in on our newest greenhouse… see if we had more of that new cultivar that she’s been propagating the heck out of. We may need more later.”
Tessa laughed; her mother’s industriousness was a marvel, “Of course she set out with that cart before dawn.”
“Sure, she did. But even that wasn’t enough to get her usual spot. Seems some out-of-towners set up camp there. I went looking for her and didn’t find her.”
Tessa said, “No wonder I didn’t see her back there. Was she upset?”
Anselme guffawed, “Your mother?! Nah. Actually, they said they traded some stock with her. They had the most interesting sedum. You can meet them later. We were thinking of picnicking together once the morning was over. They have a filly your age and they’re planning on staying the rest of the summer.”
Tessa perked at that, “Really? Cool…”
Tessa had friends but there weren’t that many foals living in Gitano. Most of the permanent residents were elderly or merchants or sailors. Most of her friends—especially those from wealthy families—summered with their parents in Gitano and lived inland nine months out of the year. She knew only about a half-dozen colts and fillies her age that lived their year-round, so a new friend was always welcome.
“…and here we are, Tess,” her father nudged her shoulder.
Tessa looked up; she’d been in her own mind.
“Hello, Tess,” a soothing voice sounded.
“Mom!” Tessa practically jumped, not having seen her mother in three weeks.
Anypony that saw Gunnhildr and her daughter together knew immediately where Tessa got her markedly good looks. Her handsome father contributed something, but Tessa was nearly a spitting image of her mother, pink and blonde and stunning. The only differences were Gunnhildr’s eyes were shockingly blue as opposed to Tessa’s subdued brown, and that Tessa had inherited her father’s voluminous mane rather than her mother’s straight mane. The eyes, though, were a mystery, her father’s being green.
An impressive line had formed at Gunnhildr’s stand, following an already successful morning… but the customers would have to wait a moment.
Tessa’s parents eyed each other lustfully.
Anselme gushed, “Oh, Hilde…!”
Gunnhildr grinned, “Oh, Ansel…!”
Oh, boy… Tessa lamented.
Her parents melted into one another, putting on a public display of affection that fogged up windows and mirrors for two or three city-blocks. It never ceased to stun the ponies around them and there were plenty of them to see the show put on.
Tessa often felt embarrassed, seeing her parents carry on. The two couldn’t seem to keep their hooves off each other, no matter where they happened to be. But they loved each other like nopony else did. And she had to remind herself they hadn’t seen each other in three weeks either.
The little one tried to just roll with it when it happened.
Another joke Tessa had heard besides their being Earth ponies was that she was conceived in a broom closet one of the times her parents had visited the castle to accept a commission from the emperor.
Whatever “conceived” meant… the filly didn’t know. But ponies sure laughed it up.
Tessa waited until her parents had unfolded from one another, “How was the capitol, Mom?”
Gunnhildr beamed, returning her attention to her now-blushing customers, “It was lovely as always, Tess. The weather was nice, and their gardens are at their best.”
Tessa was happy to hear that. Nice weather… something pretty to look at… was plenty to put a smile on her mother’s face.
Anselme nudged his daughter, “Could you get up into the cart?”
Tessa said, “Yes, Dad. Just tell me what you need.”
Father beamed at daughter as she fluttered up into the back of the cart.
Gunnhildr laughed, “I should’ve woken you up, Tess! I had to use the ramp to load.”
Tessa began hoofing pots of cultivars she knew to be dwindling on their table down to her father, “You could’ve… I wouldn’t have minded.”
“But you looked like a little angel sleeping,” Gunnhildr simpered. “You were adorable, all curled up, snoring.”
Tessa flushed, hearing other ponies laughing. It didn’t bother her much... Whose parents didn’t embarrass them a little?
“Ah, Mom!” Tessa chuckled. “What else do you need?”
“The imported Orange pots.”
Tessa hoofed down a few pots, taking a few seconds to appreciate them, “Wow…”
“They are lovely,” Gunnhildr glowed. “These weren’t easy to get ahold of, but do they ever propagate well!”
The Orange and many other types continued to sell like mad and before long they’d sold out of what they had.
Gunnhildr had half a mind to send her husband and daughter back home to resupply but she’d been going with very little rest, “Sorry, everypony! Sold out for the day!”
There was still a line and a few groaned. It wasn’t even lunchtime yet.
Gunnhildr yawned, “I’ll be back tomorrow. But if anypony wishes to buy today we’ll be open at the greenhouse a few hours starting at 3 p.m.”
The regulars especially understood; they knew Gunnhildr had only been home mere hours. The rest knew how busy the horticulturist was and settled on later.
The crowd left.
Anselme was concerned, looking to his wife, “Are you sure? You’re exhausted!”
She laughed, “But you’re well-rested enough.”
Anselme allowed a smile, hearing the knowing laughter from Tessa.
“You’re helping me, Tess,” he playfully leered at the filly.
“Oh, I know…” Tessa had already begun cleaning up.
“Eager to meet the new family, eh?” Gunnhildr picked up a few broken stems from the ground.
“What’s her name?” Tessa asked.
Her parents giggled; they knew Tessa meant the filly.
Anselme folded a blanket, “The father is Chioma, his wife is Retha, and their filly is Berhane.”
Tessa did a take, “What the heck kind of names are those?”
Gunnhilr chided her, “Manners, Tess… Your name’s certainly strange as well, where they’re from.”
Anselme said, “They’re from the southwest, Tess. You could say they’re from way out of town. They came on a circus caravan. Most of them are setting up camp outside of Alba but Chioma, Retha, and Berhane are planning on staying here.”
“You’ll like them,” Gunnhildr said. “They’re unicorns… a family magic act.”
Tessa wondered something; her father used their three first names, “Don’t they have a last name?”
“Not all ponies have family names, Tess,” Anselme stated.
Tessa knew what that meant… or she thought she did; her voice shook a little, “Then are they…? Their master… is the…?”
Both parents knew where the nervousness came from.
Slaves didn’t usually have family names. The little one had a difficult time regarding slavery, which was allowed to residents in the capitol but nowhere else in Albin or its territories. Tessa had been unfortunate enough the last time they went to Alba as a family—mere months earlier—to have witnessed a public flogging that resulted in the brutal death of a colt no older than her. And she’d seen the end of it.
It was a very difficult thing for her, witnessing a child no different than her, eight-years-old, enslaved and dying beneath a whip.
It was something that could not be explained away. It was an ugly thing. The authorities frowned upon it and other similar instances but there was little they could or would do.
“No, no, no, Tess…” her mother soothed. “It’s just a… cultural thing. Not all ponies have family names, that’s all.”
Tessa was upset. She just got that way when the subject came up. Her parents knew this well and didn’t hold it against her; they’d seen it too, that little foal slashed to ribbons.
It was something they’d never seen before—the severity of it, anyway—and a thing they could do without for the rest of their days.
“Want to just go home, Tess?” Anselme asked for both he and his wife.
But Tessa was a resilient filly, “No… I’m fine. I’m sorry…”
Gunnhildr knelt down as best she could, stroking Tessa’s cheek, “No, no, Tess… You have nothing to be sorry about.”
Anselme joined her, a hoof on Tessa, “That’s right, Tess. I…”
Tessa squeezed her father’s hoof; she knew her father was at a loss, “It’s okay, Dad…”
The family took a breath… and went on with cleaning.
Soon enough they were on their way to Gunnhildr’s normal spot.
Tessa was lazily listening to her parents talking as they walked along, her father pulling their wagon.
“…Emperor Albanus requested again that we relocate to the palace grounds…” Gunnhildr spoke to Anselme.
“He asks that every time we go out there,” Anselme replied.
“He does…” Gunnhildr didn’t like the idea at all. “I didn’t like living there when we were first married… and I wouldn’t like it now.”
Tessa piped up, “That little cottage? I can’t even remember that…”
“You wouldn’t,” Anselme chortled. “You could barely even talk, then.”
“The only thing I liked about living on the grounds was the ‘free room and board’…” Gunnhildr laughed. “The emperor certainly takes care of you.”
“Yeah, Gitano’s not the cheapest place to live…” Anselme bewailed.
“But we manage,” Gunnhildr sighed.
“That we do.”
“But I do miss all that disposable income,” Gunnhildr joked. “Maybe we should move back.”
“What do you think of that, Tess?!” Anselme crowed.
“What?”
“Living in Alba again?”
“Meh… I wish he’d stop being so pushy…” Tessa snorted.
“Tessa…!” the filly’s mother said sharply. “Don’t speak of the emperor in such a way…”
Tessa winced at her mother’s tone; she knew better, “Yes, Mom… I’m sorry.”
Gunnhildr exhaled, with a little smile, “It’s alright, Tess… Just remember.”
“Yes, Mom.”
Gunnhildr turned to her husband, quite serious, “And you! Don’t provoke fun at others’ expense!”
Anselme himself winced; his wife could lay it on heavy, and he put on a pout, “Yes, Gunny…”
Gunnhildr snorked; she couldn’t help it.
“Don’t you ‘Gunny’ me!” she barely contained her laughter.
Tessa giggled; she loved when her parents played around like that.
The little filly continued to hear, but not listen.
“…I’m not going to accept, Ansel, but you must understand…” Gunnhildr spoke softly to Anselme. “He loves those gardens. He has live-in chefs… physicians… wardens… a chiropractor… There’s nothing unusual about gardeners on call. It used to be our job, after all.”
“But you sound worried, Hilde.”
“He’s… changed, Ansel… The violence at his behest out west… and what came of it...! His dear wife passing… It’s wearing on him.”
"Careful, Hilde..." Anselme whispered. "If the wrong ponies heard you say that..."
"I know... But it's nothing but the truth."
Tessa knew when she was younger a small nation tied to Albin had attempted to increase territory in the northwestern corner of the continent… and it had ended terribly, she’d gathered. Albin representatives went out to broker a peace and everything.
And the passing of the empress the year before, a kind and gentle mare, had been met with national mourning. Tessa had known Empress Rowan; she’d only met the emperor… It was a sad day, indeed.
“…I have no intention of ever living there again, Ansel, but you must understand his thinking. He’s a good stallion and a good ruler… but he’s hurting.”
“I know…” Anselme nodded. “Mother Rowan was a mare among mares…”
“Mother” had been the title the empress had most enjoyed and everypony adored her and the familiar title.
“I miss her very much,” Gunnhildr blew out a breath. “The capitol’s just not the same without her… There were no public floggings then… and certainly not over a broken vase…!”
“Calm down, dear…” Anselme advised. “Don’t dwell on it.”
Tessa kept her mouth shut and listened with more interest. Despite the horror of knowing her mother was referring to that eight-year-old colt, slumping against that wagon wheel, screaming for his mother… and death… she listened.
But she’d keep her mouth shut anyway—about everything. Her parents had warned her to not repeat what she’d heard them say regarding the royal family or such business. They certainly didn’t badmouth the emperor or his entourage, but they had close ties with the ruler of Albin… and knew plenty.
Gunnhildr continued to murmur, “…residents of Alba visiting here or anywhere else can bring along their ‘servants’ when they travel… Property is property in the eyes of the continent.”
“As long as you’re a resident of a country allowing it…” Anselme hissed. “Sons of bitches…”
“Watch that talk,” Gunnhildr warned. "Tess..."
“Yes, dear…” Anselme said.
“The emperor knows how I—how we feel… He knows we saw what happened to that foal… He knows Tess saw…”
“Please, dear, not in front of Tess…” Anselme whispered.
“Right…” Gunnhildr regretted her bitter words, some. “But he still asks… Is he actually convinced we’d move back…?”
Tessa turned off her listening-ears again; she’d heard it before, and she didn’t want to think of that little colt anymore. Her parents were very anti-slavery, but it was the way of the world. The little filly certainly hated the idea of it but what did she know?
Well, she knew plenty, perhaps. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the life of some little foal—free or not—was worth a lot more than some clay pot, its worth little more than the water it carried.
She tried harder to push away her thoughts.
On the road Tessa more than recognized the scenery, living there her entire memory, and saw they were close to her mother’s favorite spot to sell.
She looked forward to meeting the new family.
…
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…
With their mage taking a few minutes outside, Essenta, Ama, Loress, and Delia were gathered together in the east vestibule of their new refuge.
None of them were feeling very chipper.
Loress was especially loopy, having been keeping lookout in the afternoon heat; a little water set her right, though. What was bothering the Terran most regarded Wilka... and the fact a second friend of hers had been a slave. But as with many worries plaguing her and the rest she tried to push it aside.
“Do you think Zyra will be fine…?” Essenta was concerned for her old friend, knowing Ama had shared with her some very difficult things.
Ama sniffled, still a little emotional, “Yes, Essenta… I am confident she will be fine. Please let her have some time.”
That was good enough for the princess and the Terran, but one pony was less than confident.
Ama put a comforting hoof on Delia’s shoulder, “I know things appear bleak, Delia, but Zyra will be fine. It is… you for whom I am more concerned.”
Ama certainly wouldn’t say that Zyra would outright forgive the erstwhile janitor, but she was sure things would at least be okay.
Delia, her face tear-stained, choked, “I don’t know what to think anymore…”
Loress joined Ama on the other shoulder, “Try to think about what we need to do now…”
Essenta breathed in deeply and blew it out, gazing into the eyes of the former maid, “That we’ve made it this far is no miracle; it’s because you held us together and didn’t give up. Focus so we don’t lose that.”
The love was tough, but it was there. And Delia chose to believe their words.
Delia snorted deeply, clearing her airway, and wiped her face; she was ready enough, “Okay… I’ve already determined our location based on the stars, before they went away this morning.”
Going to one of their bags, Delia removed several maps, selecting one.
She unfolded the map on the ground among them; it was easy enough to see in the light of the atrium, “Look… We entered the desert on the ridge we talked about and I’ve managed to keep us on top of it; it’s actually exposed about three miles back. Some of the larger geological formations are mapped and have names but this one isn’t one of them. If I’m right and didn’t lose the rock, it would put us at this spot.”
Delia pointed a hoof at the mark on the map she’d made earlier.
“Should we be concerned about having left a trail away from the savanna?” Ama looked over the map, viewing it upside-down but able to orient.
Delia, red in the eyes from crying but more than having her mind about her, pointed at their chosen path and said, “That’s why I shadowed the rocky ridge out of there. We could follow the ridge another 50 miles but past this spot it hooks hard southward… That’s why pulling the wagon was easy, too, spell or no spell, on the rocky ground. It should be fine but there’s no guarantee considering the mud… Nothing we can do about that, really, but they’d have to fly low to see them. As far as any trail left in the desert… well, the wind deals with that.”
“Certainly,” Ama concurred; with the nearly constant wind the path out to their dedicated horse-pie grounds was untraceable moments after one of the girls relieved herself and rejoined the others... and they buried any sign of their using it as such.
Delia went on, “My other concern is leaving our refuse—our soiled clothes and that old cart and such—but unless somepony goes looking through the formation it’s unlikely they’ll find something. If they do obliterate the place and mop up, looking for what might be left of us, they will find it… But that could take days or even weeks; there’s a lot to blast through and a lot to sort through. In the event they do find our old hideout and our strong likelihood of being alive, any trail I may have left will likely be gone… and we’ll be close to ‘Last Chance’, if not happily there.”
Essenta, Loress, and Ama agreed… even on the “happily” part.
Loress sighed, her thoughts drifting, “I shudder to think of what might happen to Salvatrix now… with another escape.”
It was painful to think about. Not only had they escaped but they’d caused tremendous damage to a city and its citizens.
Essenta spoke, addressing the three, “It’s awful but we can’t worry about that. They… made their choice… and you didn’t let them have their way.”
The hurt in Essenta’s voice was easily identified. It hurt them all. But the princess was right.
Delia swallowed down her freshening sorrow; all she could envision was that firestorm she’d helped generate, “Right…”
Her friends knew Delia was far from at peace with what had happened, and they were ready to support their comrade.
Ama kneaded Delia’s shoulder, “So what next?”
Delia was grateful for the support; she again wiped her eyes and hoofed the map, “We keep an eye to the east. There’s no telling if or when they’ll send one—or more—airships over the desert.”
The girls knew no less than two were marauding about, somewhere in the east, with another possibly still grounded. And if there were three ships with three detachments of soldiers or whomever was riding along investigating or assisting with the incident, there was plenty of reason to believe there were more ships somewhere… and more soldiers, certainly.
“But it stands to reason they’re still over the jungle and savanna,” Delia figured. “Still, we need to be ready to move… and we won’t just wait for them to show up.”
Essenta did a take, noting Delia’s tone, “This again…? You can’t be serious. You’re suggesting we leave tonight?”
Ama and Loress didn’t like the idea much either.
“I’m demanding it,” Delia gave the princess an unamused scowl before turning her eyes to them all. “I’m tired… You’re a little loopy, all of you… But we’re only 20 miles away from the savanna. That isn’t far enough, and you damn well know it.”
The others had to agree. Some of them had seen the airships move. It would take more time to bake a batch of cookies than it would take for one of the dirigibles to fly from Nuinhof to where they were.
Delia’s eyes darted over the map, “It’s not ideal—at all—and we know it. I know we agreed to wait until we were all ready to hoof it, but we don’t know what’s happening out there. If the girls don’t wake up by tonight, then they don’t wake up; we put them on the wagon. I can sleep when we move. Just make sure I don’t fall off the back…”
Ama snorked a little at the statement and Essenta and Loress felt more at ease.
Delia saw the space more relaxed and almost smiled, “We can get dinner started in a little while. For now, let’s figure out the best path to follow; the map encompasses the east desert for 150 miles so it may help us find the easiest path. We try to make 50 miles tonight.”
The others nodded.
Delia had one more worry, along with the many other concerns, “My concern now is their seeing us as we move west, day or night… but we’ll be able to see them long before they see us. Those ships are big enough to see from 15 miles away… We keep our eyes open and we should be fine.”
Again, the others agreed.
Essenta said, “Sounds like a plan. We leave at last light.”
…
…
…
“Can’t catch me!” cried one filly.
Another protested, “Of course, I can’t catch you! You can fly, you little cheater!”
“Well, you have a horn!” the other conveyed.
“And don’t think I’m not willing to use it!” came a giggle. “Take this!”
ZAP!
“Hey, watch it!”
More laughter between the two could be heard.
Tessa’s and Berhane’s parents were enjoying watching their daughters play. After their pleasant lunch on the edge of town the parents contented to chat.
“Oh, Retha, you must tell me where you got that wonderful sedum,” Gunnhildr enthused.
Retha shook her head, “A long way away, I’m afraid. I’ve been tending to it and its seedlings since the southwest coast.”
Chioma and Retha had an unusual accent but the east-coasters sounded strange to a south-westerner too. It was fun.
“That far…?” Anselme said wonderingly. “I’ve never been that far away from home…”
Chioma asked, “Were you a soldier?”
Anselme squirmed. He knew some foreign ponies were wary of soldiers—especially those of Albin—and it wasn’t difficult to surmise he had been one, with his obvious injury and proximity to the capitol.
Gunnhildr put a comforting hoof on her husband.
Anselme hoofed the back of his neck, “That was… a long time ago.”
Retha raised her hooves, “Oh, no, no, no… It’s fine.”
Chioma apologized, “I’m sorry, Anselme… I didn’t mean anything by it… In fact, I was a soldier once. I resigned.”
Anselme felt a little more comfortable, “Dare I ask why? Not hard to figure out what finished my career…”
“I’d had enough of it, that’s all,” Chioma stared between his hooves. “My enlistment was almost up anyway. But work was scarce, so I fell back on something I could do.”
Gunnhildr grinned, “Magic… Oh, what I wouldn’t give for a magic touch, sometimes.”
Retha said with kindness, “I imagine it can be difficult.”
Gunnhilder was lying on her side, out of her wheelchair, “It can… and it was… scary… carrying our Tess…”
Tessa’s mother and father looked lovingly towards their daughter.
Retha closed her eyes, nodding happily, “But it’s so worth it.”
Gunnhildr shined, “Oh, it certainly is.”
“You could say that magic brought us together,” Chioma nudged his wife.
Retha bopped him, addressing the Andemax couple, “Don’t listen to him… It’s a joke he never stops telling. But, yes, magic brought us together, both figuratively and literally.”
“Hey!” Chioma griped.
“You joined the circus together?” Anselme asked, speaking over Chioma.
“I’ve been a performer my whole life,” Retha explained. “He joined when we went through his city.”
“My joke!” Chioma complained.
“What about it?” Retha glared.
“It’s not like they’ve heard it before…” Chioma whined.
“But I’ve heard it nearly daily since we got married!” Retha giggled.
Anselme and Gunnhildr guffawed at the antics of the other two. What a lovely picnic it was…
Chioma was jostling his wife, laughing; he asked Anselme, “So, what kind of magic brought you two together?”
Anselme became thoughtful, “Well… the fact we couldn’t do anymore the only things we ever knew…”
Chioma’s eyes widened, “Oh… I’m… sorry.”
Anselme shook his head, “No… I’m sorry… for being so somber.”
Gunnhildr took over, “I was a… well, I was a pageant-mare. After my accident… and after he was hurt… we each… came to love greenness. We found we were okay at it and we met, working at the same place.”
“I’d say you’re better than just okay,” Retha chuckled.
“But you get our meaning,” Anselme grinned at his wife, taking her hooves. “I suppose it was a certain magic that brought us together.”
Chioma and Retha simpered, gathering each other up as well.
But it was soon time to part.
Gunnhildr yawned, “This has been great, but I’ve slept… I think an hour since yesterday… I need a nap!”
Retha laughed, “Yeah, you look it!”
Gunnhildr sneered, “How kind of you…”
Anselme and Chioma laughed.
Retha said, “Anselme, could you call the girls in? We’ll help pick up.”
“Think I’ll just lie here…” Gunnhildr half-joked, a satisfied look on her face.
Anselme smiled, “Just a moment, dear… I’ll help you.”
The Pegasus stallion approached the girls’ fun, finding them playfully grappling, Berhane having resorted to “beaming” Tessa close enough to grab her, “Time’s up, girls. Tess, we need to get your mother home and set up shop.”
“Already?!” Tessa, much smaller than her playmate, objected.
“But I finally caught her!” Berhane snickered, her peach-colored muzzle and legs contrasting from her brown coat; she was a bicolor, with a gray mane.
“Time’s up, girls…” he stated firmly. “You can play more tomorrow.”
“Well… okay,” Tessa released her grip on her new friend and the two followed him back.
They helped Gunnhildr into her chair and went their separate ways.
When the Andemax family got home, it was past 2:00 p.m. And a line had already formed at their greenhouse.
“Oh, yeah…” Gunnhildr giggled, seeing the line stretching around the corner. “I’m good and ready for a nap.”
Father and daughter each gave a humorless laugh.
“Ha, ha…”
“Tee hee…”
But Anselme helped his wife indoors, calling to the crowd, “Give us a minute! We’ll be right back.”
The crowd was understanding.
“Take your time!”
“No worries!”
"Welcome home, Hilde!"
“Rest well, Hilde!”
“Thanks so much for doing this!”
Gunnhildr loved her ponies… she loved her town, “Thank you, everypony! And do keep your flowers covered tonight; could be one heck of a storm!”
“Tess, could you please get started?” her father asked.
“Yes, Dad!” she then trotted over to the mass of ponies and addressed them. “We said 3:00 p.m. but we’ll open up as soon as we’re ready. Give us about 10 minutes, please.”
The ponies cheered, eager to see what goodies Gunnhildr still had stashed away.
…
…
…
“Ama… since you volunteered to pull the wagon first tonight, I want you to get a couple hours of sleep,” Essenta told the Mazan over their light but much appreciated dinner.
Ama looked up from her seedcake, “Thank you, Essenta. I know I slept a great deal but…”
Essenta grumbled, “Yeah… stoned by magic doesn’t make for a great sleep, does it?”
Ama looked to Delia, “You should join me for a time. You look better than I know you to be.”
Essenta and the others had been assuring Delia all would be well, and she could rest. They knew Delia hadn’t slept for around 36 hours; it had been at dawn the day after the Nuinhof escape since she’d had a wink. She’d tended to them and pulled them away from Salvatrix’s border when they were worse than useless
Delia shook her head, “No, I’ll be fine a couple more hours. I don’t think I could even sleep until I know we’re well on our way…”
Loress kneaded her shoulder, “C’mon, Delia… You’re dead on your hooves. Take a break. We can finish packing.”
“No…” Delia glumly refused. “I’ll feel better once we’re on our way again.”
The stubborn covert custodian wasn’t always so easily swayed when she got in a mood, and her friends didn’t know what to do to help her.
Relief came from an unexpected but welcome source.
“Go to bed, Delia.”
Four sets of eyes turned to the grotto’s entrance. There stood Zyra.
Delia looked even worse if it was possible and shrank visibly before the others; she was less than ready to face the mage.
Without additional preamble Zyra paddled up to Delia.
Delia might’ve been scared but… she sensed a peace off Zyra. It was… something. Her eyes wavered, contacting Zyra’s and falling again, but she was no longer terrified.
The girls saw Zyra’s eyes well up and begin to stream. She was sad, sure, but she wasn’t angry. If anything, she looked… reassured.
Delia again was caught off-guard and flinched as Zyra came closer.
Slowly and without sudden movement, Zyra weaved in and firmly embraced Delia.
“Mmmph?” Delia’s face was smushed by Zyra’s hug.
The little mage’s voice came tear-choked, “Thank you…! Thank you… You were so brave…”
“…!” Delia was flummoxed.
The rest of the girls were taken aback, their eyes darting to one another.
Zyra sniffled, pulling back, “There’s… probably nothing I can say to change your thinking but don’t think for a moment that I could hate you… Please… rest.”
Zyra’s hooves still on her, Delia felt faint, as if a switch had gone off in her head, “But… what about…?”
Zyra firmly hoofed Delia’s shoulder, “Don’t worry about Dechaa right now. Worry about yourself… and we’ll take care of you.”
“But-!”
“Please, Delia… listen to me,” Zyra insisted.
Despite feeling she didn’t deserve it… and despite her self-hatred… Delia chose to trust Zyra and gave in.
The former floor-scrubber couldn’t help herself; she pulled in Zyra and began to sob into her shoulder.
Zyra just returned the embrace, her own eyes squeezed shut, forcing out fresh tears.
The three outside of this didn’t like seeing their friends cry… not at all… but the weeping was that of acceptance… that of forgiveness… And even if it wasn’t as such it was clear the two were ready to deal with the situation at hoof.
They all felt a powerful respite, a soothing calm permeating the hollow.
After a few moments the tears lessened; they didn’t dry but they lessened. The two broke it off.
Delia mumbled, abruptly looking as dead on her hooves as she actually was and said, “I’m gonna… go lie down for a while. Don’t hesitate to wake me once we’re ready to go.”
Ama was the only one able to form words, “We will, Delia. Relax and rest well, for we have a distance to cover.”
Delia’s response was simple, “Thank you…”
With that the little messy-maned pony paddled off to where the others were sleeping.
Zyra sat down where Delia had been; she looked a little spent.
Ama put a hoof on Zyra’s, “Will you be alright, friend?”
Zyra wasn’t alright. None of them were. None of it was alright, either, the awful mess they’d come into.
But Zyra slowly nodded, “I will be…”
Ama managed a sad smile, “Good. We shall inform you on what you missed.”
Zyra swallowed hard, trying to clear the great lump of emotion from her throat, “Okay.”
Essenta perked up, “I suppose we should check on the others, first.”
Loress immediately stood, “I’ll do it before Delia nods off… We don’t want to disturb her.”
Zyra said, “The girls are fine… I checked on them before coming in.”
Essenta was surprised, “Oh?”
Zyra had another thing on her mind, “Could somepony pass me a little of that seedcake… I’m hungry.”
Loress hoofed her a portion at once, along with a nice drink of water.
“Thanks…” Zyra took a sip before saying her piece. “Whatever Cassia did to us affected us differently. They’re fine but they’re still out like last year's fashions. They’ll wake up when they do.”
The mares just had to accept that, and they would.
“Understood,” Essenta exhaled. “We’re only about 30 miles away from the jungle and the country’s border. We need to move tonight.”
Zyra wasn’t unreasonable in asking, “Why the rush?”
Essenta realized Zyra wouldn’t know, with being unconscious much of the last few days, “The new government’s air force has airships…”
Zyra yelped, “They have dirigibles?!”
The girls shouldn’t have been surprised in hearing that; Zyra’s vocabulary wasn’t the smallest.
“You’ve heard of such things?” Essenta asked; she’d never imagined such things existed.
Zyra didn’t mean to smirk, “Master Amelbert knows a lot about everything… and he taught be a little about everything.”
Essenta figured this was true enough.
Zyra sighed, “Well, there’s no messing around then. We do need to get gone…”
…
…
…
Rumble… Rumble… CRACK!
A couple faces peered out the window of the Andemax house, facing seaward.
“Shee-yoot!” Anselme drawled, getting a little drunk. “It’s sure coming down out there!”
Chioma took a draught of gin offered by Anselme, in the same territory as the other stallion, “Sure enough…”
The “heck of a storm” had turned out to be a “cock-suckin’ Helluva storm”.
The Andemax’s new friends, Chioma and his wife and daughter, had been invited to stay the night, their wagon and supplies safely housed in the big shed out back. When it was clear the storm was going to be a big one, Anselme ran out to ask them in. The canvas tent their guests were planning to spend the summer in would suffice most nights but not this one.
And the three were very grateful.
Retha fretted a little, gawking at the downpour out a side window, “I hope everypony took the advice and sheltered their plants.”
Gunnhildr had taken a nap, not wanting to sleep too long; she could then go to bed at a normal time and was glad to spend the evening with her new friend. The two mares sat on the couch while the stallions stayed in the kitchen, watching the weather.
Gunnhildr, like Retha, was just a little sloshed, having broken out the good stuff that night, “Oh, I’m sure it’s alright… We get these big storms off the sea. We’re used to a few of these things every summer. Really, compared to the hurricanes we see every couple years this is nothing.”
While the adults made merry downstairs, Tessa and Berhane were nestled up in the loft. Tessa didn’t have much in the way of possessions, but she showed the unicorn her little corner of the house.
Under candlelight the two looked through Tessa’s coin collection.
Tessa pointed to one in particular, “This is what they use north of Albin. Isn’t it cool?”
Berhane nodded; none of the coins were particularly valuable but Tessa had some from everywhere, “It is… I recognize this one! My father has a few of these! From his home!”
Tessa said, “We get travelers from all over the continent through the city of Alba, so the junk shops have coins from all over the world! This is from Mazan… and this is… from somewhere in the mountains… it’s Knollwing currency.”
Berhane was a traveler and had been all over; she enjoyed this, being able to recognize most of what Tessa had, “Oh… I see you have some Valley money… That’s from 2,000 miles away!”
“I know…” Tessa flipped over the specified coins. “I traded these off a soldier when I was five. He’d been out there during the peace-talks with the Valley’s… confederation? I think that’s what it was called.”
Berhane looked unhappy, “I guess that explains the Joeh money…”
“Joeh?” Tessa hoofed a few coins. “That’s what these are? I don’t even know about Joeh, other than they were in on the peace-talks. The soldier just gave me these and nopony around here knew what they were…”
“Well, my dad told me about Joeh and…”
Tessa looked over, “And what?”
Berhane squirmed, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Tessa thought nothing of it and went on, hoofing a coin, “Here’s another piece of Mazan silver! It took forever to convince this sailor to part with it.”
“Now that is cool!” Berhane enthused.
“Do you collect anything?” Tessa asked.
“Do I?! I have my own collection of coins.”
“You do?! I’ve never met another foal that liked coin-collecting!”
Berhane was a little proud of herself, “You’ve got a pretty impressive set, but you should see what I have. I have qilin gold.”
“Really?! I’ve never even seen that!”
Berhane blushed a little, “Well, it’s still not as impressive as your collection. Other than that, it’s just where we’ve traveled…”
“Could you show me?” Tessa was hopeful.
“Sure, Tess,” Berhane said. “We can look at it tomorrow.”
“Yes!”
“Girls!” Anselme’s voice came from downstairs. “Would you like some cookies?”
In unison, the fillies called down; they were already moving, “Would we ever!”
Giggling at their moms’ foolishness, the girls retreated upstairs for a snack and bedtime.
The adults were turning in soon as well. They were planning on getting up together and setting up shop side-by-side.
It had been a good day. The weather would subside by morning and another lovely summer day would be had. Both families—the Andemax family especially—had made a killing that day. And they hoped for another good day of sales.
So, the six ponies dozed off, enjoying a nice, dry house and the company of good friends.
…
…
…
“Loress, I want you to take up the rear,” Essenta pointed to the Terran. “Zyra, you and I will take point.”
The mage nodded, “You got it.”
Loress nodded, “Right.”
Ama was lashing a jug of water near the front of the wagon, wanting to keep it accessible, “Everything is packed, Essenta. We went over the grotto twice.”
Essenta peered into the wagon; Dechaa, Wilka, and Orni were snoozing comfortably or at least appeared to be. She frowned, seeing the collar they'd put on Dechaa. Her heart further ached, watching Wilka slumber, wondering what hurts that pretty face hid.
But the princess sighed and put these out of mind.
“Okay…” Essenta glanced to the map she had out before folding it. “We’re ready.”
Delia paddled up slowly, “I’m good… just had to take a leak.”
Essenta snorked, “I once said that in front of my lead hoofmaiden and she washed my mouth out with soap…”
Zyra actually cracked up, “Oh, I remember that, Cap! You had flakes stuck in your molars the whole day!”
Ama was aghast, “She washed your mouth out with soap?! To punish you?”
Essenta smirked, “What…? It never happened to you?”
Ama shook her head, “No! Naughty Mazan fillies are spanked…”
Zyra giggled, “Most ponies do that… I know I got paddled a few times…”
“You sure as shit did…” Essenta reminisced.
Zyra poked at Ama, “I bet you never got spanked, you goody-four-shoes…”
Ama blushed very slightly, “Oh… I could be quite the little... as I have heard, ‘Hellraiser’ when I was small…”
Essenta, Zyra, and Loress guffawed at the statement, picturing that.
Delia, who would’ve appreciated a spanking over the couple of floggings she’d had in her life, tired of the game; she grumbled as she clambered into the wagon, “Enough merriment… I just wanna go back to sleep…”
The girls quickly realized they’d been insensitive, given Delia’s past and the less-than-pleasant tone she gave them.
Loress looked at her hooves, her thoughts on Wilka as well, knowing what she knew, “Oh… We’re… sorry. We-”
Delia waved it off, “It’s alright… That was a long time ago. I’m alright… I’m just tired…”
The rest were put at ease.
“Gotta blanket? Water?” Loress approached the side of the wagon.
Delia was already wrapping up, “Got both… Don’t mind me. I think I could sleep through a typhoon right now…”
Ama hitched up, “I will try to give you and the girls a smooth ride.”
Delia waved this off too, “Like I said, don’t mind me. Just follow the ridge and follow the stars and we’ll get where we need to. Somepony wake me in a few hours; I don’t want to sleep the whole night.”
“Very well,” Ama said, adjusting the harness.
Essenta strode to the front of the group, “Well, let’s get moving. Everypony good?”
They weren’t good… but they were ready.
“Let’s go.”
“I am fine.”
“We’re with you, Cap!”
“Lead the way, Princess.”
Essenta beamed at her girls, “Good.”
The mares walked west into the sun, set low on the horizon, almost out of sight.
…
…
…
The rain fell on the town of Gitano. The thunder boomed and the lightning flashed.
But otherwise all was peaceful…
It didn’t last.
Wrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!
Tessa sat bolt upright, “What’s that?!”
Berhane had never heard such a noise, “What is that?!”
Tessa was half-asleep but quickly recognized it; it woke her up fully, “That’s the town’s alarm! Downstairs, quick!”
The fillies found their mothers awake downstairs.
“What’s going on, Hilde?” Retha wondered.
“It’s the alarm. Something’s happening,” Gunnhildr had been sleeping on the couch; she hadn’t moved, needing help to do more than crawl.
The front door opened, and the noise became almost deafening.
WRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!
Anselme staggered in, awash with muck. He shut the door quickly behind him, panting.
“Ansel!” Gunnhildr cried. “That’s where you were!”
Chioma rolled from the blanket he was in; he was definitely not sober, “Could somepony turn off the fucking noise?”
Nopony paid him mind.
“It can’t be the storm!” Gunnhildr yelled over the siren. “We’d know if a hurricane was due!”
The look on Anselme’s face told them one thing: it wasn’t the storm.
Tessa was fearful, pulling her blanket closer, “…Daddy?”
Chioma was pretty drunk but the ladyfolk were alarmed.
Retha asked, her voice shaking, “What is it?”
Anselme barred the door, gasping, “The town’s under attack!”
“What?!” Gunnhildr yelped.
Retha and the fillies reeled at the words and they were worse off with Anselme’s next.
“Pirates!” the stallion wheezed.