The Reservation

by Kyuubi325


Grogar

State of Lincoln
New Ballard
Shady Pines Retirement Housing Community
9:20 AM

A dark cornflower blue cloven hoof reached out to tap the beeping flip clock. Soft muttering coming from the sheets for a few moments before it’s solitary occupant worked his way up to a sitting position. Licking his unnaturally sharp canines the elderly goat scooted to the edge of the mattress. Waiting a moment before pushing himself off onto the carpeted floors. He then reached his forehoof to his neck he rubbed it while lazily trotting to the bathroom, a grotesque pop coming just before he crossed the threshold. Reaching over to the tiled wall he flipped a switch turning on the fan above him. Turning his head to the mirror gazing into his own dark red eyes, a product of a subconjunctival hemorrhage in his youth. Blinking the crust from his eyes he opened the door to the walk-in bathtub, sitting down on the bench.

Sighing he reached out and slowly pulled the handle, letting the water spill out the spigot. Once it was to the right temperature he turned a knob, seeming to stop the flow, before it spilled over him from the showerhead. He sighed gently as the cold water rushed over her old body, he didn’t spend much time enjoying it, quickly lathering himself up before rinsing and stepping out. Grasping a case near the mirror, he opened it revealing some teeth soaking in disinfectant. Applying some paste he placed them into his maw, biting awkwardly until they were properly affixed. As he did this, his fur was allowed to drip dry before he trotted back to his closet, opening the door a faint smile crossed his lips.

Grasping the hanger in his magic he unfolded the nearby ironing board. Taking his time to correct the creases in the dark blue blazer and navy blue pants. Looking out the window as he ironed he noticed clouds regathering outside. To which he responded by pulling out the matching velvet scarf, pressing the steam button he started to straighten it out as well. Levitating the two items for a final inspection, seeing nothing was amiss he started to slip on his outfit. Bending his joints proved to be a challenge, but steadily he slipped into the outfit. Looking into the mirror hanging nearby he searched for any imperfections before returning to the bathroom. Quickly grasping the brush and straightening his facial fur until it was flush, with no cowlicks to be seen.

Moving his attention to his horns he mumbled a faint curse setting down the brush, replacing it with a file. Slowly gliding it across the keratin, working out the chips and scratches. Making sure that the points were well defined to the point, reaching upwards he pressed his fetlock against the tip. Pulling it away he could see the faintest trace of blood, to which he quickly dabbed with a bit of toilet paper. Once that was settled he began his final preparation, grasping a black jar of polish he dabbed a small washcloth. It was often the longest part of his daily regimen, but appearances were everything.

Seeing his horns shine, he moved onto his hooves, giving them a quick file and polish. Tilting them every which way until he was sure the coat was even before sighing. “Perfection.” He mumbled simply.

Trotting back out he made his way out of the room, turning down the short hallways to the stairs. Eyeing the stairlift for a moment, he turned his attention to the steps. Refusing to use the device despite his advanced age, began the careful trek down. Mountain goat or no, even the most surefooted would lose their touch as the years passed. Reaching the ground floor he would exhale, taking a few measured moments to catch his breath. Once his joints and lungs had been allowed to recover he slowly stepped into the kitchen.

Ignoring the Kellogg’s All-Bran cereal he opted for a glass of milk. After pouring the low-fat milk he quickly guzzled it down like a shot of whiskey before glancing at the clock. Washing off the glass quickly he tossed into the dishwasher before making his way to the front door. Levitating a small notepad and decorative pen into his pocket. Gazing upwards as he trotted off the porch and onto the sidewalk he watched the clouds. More than a bit concerned about the rain at his age. Coming to stop he waited for a few moments before a black car arrived.

The window slowly rolled down revealing a tanned face. “Grogar?” He asked seeing his nod he stepped out of the car and opened the passenger door. “Please make yourself at home, the people at Gastronomica want to show they can offer experiences that fit your refined tastes.”’

Working his way in, the old goat sighed as he sank into the fine leather. Opening his eyes after savoring the feel for a few moments he reached over to the complementary fridge and grasped a bottle of 7-UP and sipped it lazily. Watching his neighbors pass him by, he saw Miss Fairchild working on her prize-winning tulips, old Browning seeming to be applying another coat of epoxy to his wooden cabin cruiser, even miss Opitz was setting pies out on the windowsill. A faint smile formed as he could just smell the salmonberry pie. His small tail almost wagged at it, while his sensitive tongue nearly tasting it. “I’ll have to write an article about them later...” The driver glanced back curiously as they exited through the gates, picking up speed as they transitioned to the main road. The goat set his drink in the cup holder and reached out to the tv embedded into the seat. Switching it onto a new channel before going back to sipping his fizzy beverage.

“Chaos in Los Angels as Homeless and Prisoner rights advocates clash with police over the controversial Emergency Reconstruction and at Risk Employment Act. For those who just tuning in the Act allows prisons to rent out inmates as a labor force. This has been invaluable for the reconstruction of infrastructure in the western states while also offering desperately needed employment to the destitute. However, advocates allege that this is just a form of slavery, as a refusal to work is frequently counted against them in parol hearings. Others are concerned that it’s cutting into the construction union's wages, as these inmates make the federal minimum wage. This is against the previous construction worker's wage was nearly 20 dollars an hour. But since the introduction of this bill, it has been in steady free fall. I’m just getting word we have one of the protesters for an interview.” The young woman’s screen was split as an older looking man in a construction worker's hat appeared to her right. “Thank you for coming on George.”

There seemed to be a delay before he responded. “It's great to be here Samantha.”

“We also have interim Governor Thompson.” The left side of the screen split showing a professional silver-haired gentleman.

“Happy to be here to clear up some of the misconceptions Samantha.” He responded with a neutral smile

Grogar couldn’t help but chuckle watching the debate become nothing more than a shouting match between the two men. It was practically a comedy for him, but just as it was starting to get good he noticed the car was approaching his destination. Sitting up straight he saw Pour Vous, a new French restaurant that had opened up near the Hamilton Canal. The entire area was renowned as a sort of Mecca for fine dining and shopping. As such competition was fierce for the valuable retail space, it wasn’t uncommon for a new business to open only to close a few months later.

The car would come to a slow stop just outside the new eatery, many wealthy shoppers stopping to catch a glimpse of the old goat as he stepped onto the pearl white sidewalk. Some watched him curiously, others particularly foodies seemed to be debating whether to ask for his autograph or not. He smirked faintly at that making his way inside, pushing past the decorative wood and wrought iron door.

Approaching the host he gazed up with a faint frown. “Table for one, should be under Gastronomica?” He mumbled faintly while the host nodded nervously.

“Yes sir, right this way.” The well-dressed man nervously led the old goat to a private table near a far corner of the restaurant. Pulling back the chair so he could sit more easily.

Sitting back in the chair the old goat grunted faintly transitioning to the wooden chair. Once he was scooted towards the table he was promptly given the wine and lunch menu. “Thank you.” He pulled out his small note pad with his magic, already beginning to take notes. “Hmmm....”

Looking over the wine menu he was moderately impressed, however he saw an overabundance of costly, instead of good wines. He quickly scribbled that into his notes while glancing at the lunch menu. “Chestnut Encrusted Pheasant with dragon fruit reduction? Interesting... Portabella steak soup? Hm....” he continued to mumble as he read through the menu.

While he would pretend not to notice, he was well aware of the young chef peeking out from the kitchen. One could almost feel the waves of fear wafting off him like the scent of a fine drink. Resting the urge to smile he set his menu down signaling he was ready to order. After a moment a young waitress approached. “I’ll have the Portabella Steak Soup, the Encrusted Pheasant, and the Orange Soufflé.”

She took his order quickly and nodded her head. “Would you like anything to drink?”

“Bring me whatever the chef recommends for each course.” He said cryptically, the waitress nodded her head quickly making her way to the kitchen.

During this time Grogar took stock of the decor and clientele surrounding him. The place certainly attempted to recreate the French anesthetic, keyword tried. The furniture while nice clashed with the statuettes of fat French chefs. Which would have been more suitable if it was a French cafe, rather then a restaurant? The wallpaper looked expensive, certainly helping show it was a well to do establishment. Tables and chairs were pristine, though not great for his lower lumbar. He continued to take notes, his ear and nose twitching as he sensed his soup arriving, with the wine following soon after.

Gazing down at the bowl he studied the presentation carefully before tarnishing it with the spoon. It seemed to be a puréed soup, a small thin sliced Portabella mushroom on top acting as a garnish topped with a drizzle of creme fraiche. Once he was done he levitated his spoon and brought a bit to his maw. Allowing the aroma to enter his nose before taking a bite, running it over his tongue for a moment before swallowing.

After a few more spoonfuls he continued to write in his notebook before pushing the soup away. The waitress quickly replaced the soup with the pheasant, once it was set down he proceeded to inspect it closely. Taking some notes about the presentation he started to cut into his meal raising an eyebrow at the tenderness. The meat nearly fell off the bone, needing only a little coaxing with his fork. Holding it to his nose he inhaled the aroma before popping it into his mouth and chewing slowly. Swallowing he paused for a moment before reaching over and scribbling something. He would continue to take small bites before pushing the plate away and leaning back.

While they took the plate away he seemed to be in deep thought. Only to be taken from his pondering as the soufflé was set before him. Leaning forward he enjoyed the strong scent of citrus, eyeing the icing drizzle for a moment he shoved his fork into the pastry. Watching it deflate rapidly with an amused expression as he ate silently. Finishing the small desert he started to write again before oddly tapping his hoof on the ramekin. Slipping his notebook back into his pocket he left, the chef and staff watching him nervously

Passing through the doors he just heard the waitress lift the ramekin and a let out a terrified gasp at the soot hoofmark on the ceramic. A faint smile crossing his lips as he made his way down the sidewalk searching for something that caught his fancy. Occasionally he would peak into the boutique stores just to see what they sold. As he continued to explore the streets a wonderful smell brought him out of his exploration. His sensitive nose guiding his old hooves to a kiosk made to look like a vintage wooden chuck wagon.

“Can I help, ya?” An older woman smiled faintly from the side of the kiosk. The old goat couldn’t help but look amusedly at her western country dress.

“I suppose so, I’m trying to locate a wonderful smell, doubt it could come from such a humble establishment?” He said sarcastically.

“You think so? How about you put your money where your mouth is lamb chop?” She chuckled. “If you don’t like it I’ll give you a 200% refund.”

“I’ll have you on the next wagon train.” Looking over the menu he smiled. “I’ll have the Beef Stew.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed a goat to eat meat.” She hummed as she reached into the cart opening one of the large pots. Thick steam rose as she started to fill a waxed paper bowl for him. Tossing some warm and flaky sourdough biscuits into another container “That will be $7.50.” She drawled.

Grogar levitated a ten to her grasp, once he got his change he took his feast to a nearby outdoor table. The owner of the kiosk watching him amusedly as he cracked open the soup and biscuit container. Enjoying the smell for a moment he looked down at the thick brown mixture. It certainly didn’t look impressive at first glance, taking the plastic spoon he slowly swirled it around. Watching the various cheap cuts of meat float to the surface. Letting the spoon go he pulled out his notebook and started to scribble. Once he was finished he brought a thick spoonful to his mouth.

Closing his eyes he focused on the flavors spilling over his tongue, tasting the thick chunks cheap but tender meat mix with rich calf liver and... heart? Along with hints of onion, carrots, tomato, potatoes, and various herbs. Certainly not expensive ingredients, but the sum total caused him he smile showing off his sharp pearly whites. Grasping a biscuit he broke it, seeing just how flaky it was inside before dunking the bread into the soup. Continuing to eat he would be broken from his meal with the sound of his phone ringing rather obnoxiously. Feeling around his vestments he pulled out the simple flip phone and brought it to his ear.

“Hello?....” He asked slightly annoyed that his meal had been interrupted.

“Grogar...” Hearing that distaste filled voice, his smile only seemed to grow.

“Ah, Twilight, how nice of you to call.” He chuckled sarcastically. “What’s the occasion?”

“I wanted to talk, in person, later today are you available?” He could tell she was struggling to keep herself under control.

“Of course, it will be wonderful to have company, I’ll make a pot of tea for your visit.” He said cheerily only to hear her hang up, chuckling he went back to his meal occasionally writing things down in his little book.

Finishing his meal he tossed the now empty containers into the trash before slipping a bill into the smug woman’s tip jar. “Well earned, well earned.” He hummed as he continued his travels through the upscale shopping area.

———————————————————-
State of Lincoln
Shady Pines Retirement Housing Community
5:37 PM

Grogar hummed softly as he heated the water and started to prepare the tea. Just as he was fishing up his tea tray her heard a loud knocking coming from the front door. Turning down the heat and tossing a packet into the pot he slowly trotted to the door. Opening the door he looked down smirking at the smaller purple equine. “Ahh, you arrived, please come in and make yourself at home.”

“Thank you, Grogar.” She did her best to sound pleasant but the fur standing up on the back of her neck told him everything. Once he stepped out of her way she trotted to the couch.

“I’ll be back in a moment with the tea, please make yourself comfortable.” He hummed as he left for the kitchen, coming out to see her eyeing his first article framed over the fireplace.

“You seem to have done well for yourself.” She awkwardly tried to make a conversation.

“Ah yes, at my age hobby’s are important to help keep the mind sharp.” He chuckled. “I didn’t expect my little article for the local paper to catch so much attention.”

“Must be hard living on a writer's salary.” She continued to look over the walls decorated with his articles.

“Not as much as you might think.” He started to pour two cups of tea. “Would you like any sugar?”

“Two cubes please.” She said quickly to which he nodded spooning them into her cup before offering it to her.

She took it hesitantly and stared deep into the dark amber-colored liquid. “It’s not poisoned I assure you.” He sipped his cup.

“Excuse me for being careful...” She said staring into the cup for a few more moments before taking a hesitant sip.

“Ahhh, nothing like Apple Cinnamon tea to relax the body.” He hummed as he held his cup between his forehooves.

“I suppose so....” She sat awkwardly for a few moments.

“Tell me, have you been to the local shopping district? It’s a lovely place to visit, simply a must for any tourist. I’d be happy to recommend a restaurant for you.” He gave her a toothy smile.

“I.. haven’t... I guess I could try one of the restaurants before I leave. What would you recommend?...” She swallowed uncomfortably.

“Depends on what time of day you’ll be visiting.” He hummed.

“Time of day?” She looked confused setting down her tea.

“Oh yes, if it’s the morning then I would recommend the SunnySide Cafe, they make a wonderful breakfast. Their Eggs Benedict is partially popular with the salmon roe offering a delightful twist on a rich classic. If you're looking for more of a brunch, then I’d say Orange Table, the mimosas alone are worth the trip. For lunch, it depends, if you want a place to sit down I would go with Katz Delicatessen, a recent transplant from New York. They don’t skimp on their sandwiches and have introduced a new line of meat-free proteins for the herbivorous diet. If you want something on the go I would go with the Chuckwagon, a new kiosk specializing in traditional Wild West foods, they have a lovely thick vegetable and meat substitute stew that simulates the experience well for those intolerant of meat. For dinner, if you want something traditional I would-“ Seeing her completely gobsmacked look he stopped. “Something wrong?” He set his tea down and grabbed a few tea biscuits for himself.

“Your... not what I was expecting....” She set her tea down after taking another dainty sip.

“And what were you expecting?” He asked dipping a biscuit into his tea.

“I dunno...” She shyly grabbed a biscuit for herself.

“Perhaps you thought I would be living in a vast gloomy castle, cackling over a bubbling cauldron of green ooze? Plotting my revenge against ponykind?” He smirked watching her stutter.

“I... um... well... you have to admit your legend paints a vivid picture.” She swallowed again.

“That it does, that it does.” He sipped his tea again. “I trust this wasn’t a social visit to check up on an old goat?”

“No, it’s not.” She set down her tea and partially eaten biscuit.

“You have a question to ask, so ask it.” He shrugs pouring himself another cup.

“Fine...” She took a deep breath. “Did you have anything to do with the war?”

He tilted his head swirling his cup. “Would it matter, would you even believe me?”

“What do you mean? Of course, it matters!” She couldn’t help but shout.

“Would you deny I would make a convenient scapegoat?” He tilts his head the other way. “The great and evil Grogar corrupting the fair and just princess Celestia into a pointless war of attrition.” He chuckled seeing her glare. “But no... I’m sorry to say it was not my machinations that lead her down the path of self-destruction. Despite the joy it brought me, I refuse to take credit for what’s not mine.”

She frowned deeply. “You expect me to believe your innocent of any wrongdoing?”

“Oh certainly not!” He laughed. “I’m far from innocent little pony, I had my own plans long before convergence. I’m old, not senile, I learned from my mistakes in the past. Play tyrant long enough, eventually a little girl and her incompetent friends get lucky.” He shook his hoof dismissively.

“A... little girl?...” She looked confused. “You mean a filly right?”

“No, I mean a little human girl.” He looked more serious.

Twilight was shocked. “How is that possible? H-humans weren’t native to Equis! They’re from a different universe altogether!” The Alicorn shook her head in disbelief.

“That they are.” He hummed setting his tea down. “Convergence was a long time coming.”

“What do you mean?” She swallowed but looked more curious. “Celestia caused convergence...” she didn’t sound so sure.

“She made a tiller, not an engine pony.” He leaned back.

“A tiller?” She looked stumped. “You mean like a boat?”

“Mhm.” He nodded his head.

“Why?...” She swallowed.

“Why else would you need a tiller but to steer something?” He hummed softly chuckling. “Some education you have their pony...”

She looked more annoyed, but then more thoughtful. “But what would she need to steer?”

He sighed leaning forward. “Isn’t it interesting that before convergence she practically drained the Royal Treasury for her little fair? The nobility practically threatened revolt when they found their portion of the taxes were diverted to her passion project. Yet she paid them no mind... even taking out loans as her country spiraled into a deficit the likes Equis had never seen.” The old goat raised an eyebrow. “Scattering posters, pamphlets, criers, even pushing diplomatic concessions on her end.... all to make it irresistible to even the most isolationist races....”

Twilight stared at him. “How do you know about the treasury?....”

“I had eyes and ears everywhere pony, you’d be surprised what a maid or servant will hear.” He showed off his canines giving a toothy grin. “It’s so easy to bribe someone when you can read them like a book. They’ll pay any price if you know what their heart desires most.”

Twilight looked disturbed, by what he said but wanted answers. “You're saying the Grand Canterlot Cultural Exhibition was a farce? To what end?”

“Do you know the hardest part of building an ark little pony?..." He enjoyed seeing her confusion. "It’s not the construction, it’s getting all the damn animals in one place.” He hummed while Twilight's eyes widened in realization.

“A life raft...” She muttered as she began to understand. “She was steering... a life raft...”

He nodded his head picking up the tea set to put it away. “I’m sure you have one last question pony, ask it. It’s late and I must start getting ready for bed.”

Twilight took a moment to register what he said. “What do you plan on doing now?” She asked plainly.

“Now? Nothing, I got what I wanted in the end for your ponies. I’ve moved on.” He said dismissively as he came back from the kitchen.

“What you wanted?” She slowly stood up from her chair.

“I wanted your kind to feel what it’s like to lose everything you hold dear, to see your achievements, your culture, your marvels, reduced to ashes of history, and forgotten.” He stepped forward, his head raised high, the fear slowly creeping back into Twilight. “Look around you, little princess. The majority ponies who survived your mentor's war aren't artisans or scholars, their peasants. Who’s knowledge of their own countries culture and history stops at the edge of their little hamlets.” He tilted his head. “Even the precious few intellectuals who did survive... how long until their knowledge wains as they work their meager jobs? They work in human factories, listening to human music, then buy human goods, and their foals go to human schools. It will seep into that cultural vacuum reducing your kind to nothing but the flesh.”

Twilight swallowed as the message was clear, but hardened her face. “Thank you for your time Grogar, I’ll ensure your compensated for this visit.”

“Don’t worry about it pony, seeing you was compensation enough.” He chuckled watching her leave.