//------------------------------// // Chapter 7 // Story: To Protect And Serve: A Sisterverse Tale // by brokenimage321 //------------------------------// Kingfisher entered the little town head held high, trying to project an air of confidence. Confidence he didn’t exactly feel.  The Crystal pony villages up in the mountains were too far out of the way to have their own train station. The best the Princess could do was to give him a ticket for some historic forest in the foothills. Much better than walking the whole way, but it still left him with a hundred miles or so to go.  Hence, Kingfisher found himself hiking through the wilderness, in a more-or-less straight line, for home. The weather was nice enough for him to sleep outside, and he got by pretty well on grass, green leaves, and spring water. He had been hoping to make his whole way home like that, never having to see another Equestrian pony the rest of the trip. All the better if he never had to see one again. But his body had other ideas. Kingfisher put on a brave face, but the hospitality of the Canterlot Police Department had really done a number on him. Ordinarily, a hike of a hundred miles or so would have been a cakewalk--but the hardscrabble rocks, and the beds of leaves and pine needles, were dragging at him. Each morning, his old injuries hurt worse and worse. He had hoped to somehow stagger all the way home without stopping, but, this morning, he could barely stand. That was it, then. He couldn’t go on without a place to sleep--a good-and-proper sleep, one that might let him heal a bit. And he needed an actual meal. And a shower. But most of all sleep, in a bed, under a roof. His body had been begging him for days, and now he had finally decided to listen.  Or, he was trying, at least. The problem was, beds were in houses, and houses were in villages--and  every little village brought new danger. Kingfisher had left home a bright-eyed optimist, with nothing but hope in his heart for the adventure ahead. But long experience had beaten the hope out of him.  Lowland ponies--especially the ones out in the country--were scared of him. Or perhaps hated him. Didn’t matter much either way, the result was the same. He didn’t need to look to know that every pony in town was watching him as he marched down the middle of no-name boulevard in wherever-the-Tartarus town this was. He had hoped a little tourist town way out in the middle of the woods would have been a little better, given how many ponies had travelled from far away to see the place--but it seemed that they had all the same prejudices as Manehattan or Canterlot.  Show no fear, he said to himself. They’re more scared of you than you are of them. And yet, the weight of the townfolks’ gazes made him pick up the pace a little.  Kingfisher very nearly cried out for joy when he spotted the hotel. Or maybe it was a bed-and-breakfast. Either way, the Morning Glory Inn promised him a place to rest his head, a place to lie down out of the sun--and a place to hide from the gazes of the townsfolk.  He had to duck to step through the door. It took him a second for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior. The lobby of the inn was decorated with old-fashioned couches, with cut-glass lamps standing beside them. A small family--mother, father, and two foals--were standing off to one side. While the foals slept on one of the sofas, the mother and father were debating, quietly but urgently, over a guide book. At the desk, a withered old stallion was writing in a big, leather-bound book with a fancy quill. At the sound of Kingfisher’s hoof-falls, he looked up. As soon as he spotted Kingfisher, his eyes widened in barely-restrained surprise.  “May I help you?” he asked, an icy edge of authority creeping into his voice.  Kingfisher had joked a pony like him could snap a unicorn in half if he wanted--a unicorn like the clerk before him, doubly so. And yet, he knew that tone. It was the voice of disdainful, dismissive authority, polite on the surface, hostile underneath. He’d heard it before, from nearly every place he’d visited on his journey. And a voice like that made him feel very small, like he was back in school being punished for something he didn’t even know he’d done. His ears drooped. “I would like to let a room, please,” he said quietly, in his best attempt at an Equestrian accent. The clerk’s eyes widened slightly at his accent, then narrowed in suspicion. “I apologize,” he said imperiously, “but the inn is currently not accepting reservations.” Out of the corner of his eye, Kingfisher saw the father of the family look up. He shrank a little further.  “Ach, come on,” he said, letting his accent slip, “I’ll take anythin’. I just need a place tae rest ma heid.” The stallion, sensing weakness, let a small smile tug at the corners of his mouth.  “I am sorry if you misheard,” he said, “but the Inn is not accepting—” “In that case,” said a voice behind him, “I would like to rent a room now. No reservation. You don’t mind walk-ins, do you?” Kingfisher looked around, and nearly jumped out of his skin: the father of the family, a dark-blue pegasus, had stepped up beside him. The clerk behind the desk looked over his glasses at the interloper. “I beg your pardon?” he said, as his glasses slid down his nose.  “I said,” the pegasus repeated, “that I don’t want a reservation. I want to rent a room for tonight. Now, in fact,” he added. He held his hoof out expectantly for the keys. The clerk shot an uneasy glance at Kingfisher, which made him shrink back even further.  “I sup-p-pose,” the clerk said, drawing the word out like he was pulling taffy, “we may be able to accommodate your family, though I shall have to review our records…” “Alright then,” the pegasus said. “Then what’s the problem with him?” he added, nodding in Kingfisher’s direction.  The clerk bristled. “The Inn does not have the facilities to properly accommodate a stallion of his…” he glanced up at Kingfisher again. “...stature,” he finished.  “But you can accommodate a family of four?” the pegasus cut in.  The clerk flared his nostrils. “Sir,” he said coldly, “I do not appreciate your tone of voice…” “And I do not appreciate you turning away a willing customer merely because of his stature,” he snapped. “It’s not only unprofessional, it’s not only unkind, it’s actually illegal.”  In the sudden silence, he flashed a grin. “By the way, I don’t know that we’ve been introduced.” he extended a hoof. “The name’s Bluebook, professor at Cloudsdale College of Law.”  The clerk paled.  “Now you’re getting it,” Bluebook said. “So let me make this easy for you: I know you have a vacancy. We were here when those unicorns checked out early. So, you’ll give that room to our friend here.”  Kingfisher took an involuntary half-step backwards.  “And,” Bluebook continued, “you’re not going to give him any trouble—in fact, you’re going to give him any sort of premium treatment that he wants.” he held his head a little higher. “And I’ll take care of it for him. All of it.” Kingfisher’s eyes widened. “Now,” Bluebook continued, “I want to set a good example for my children, so we’re not going to patronize an inn so sour and spiteful as yours. Instead, we’re going to find another place for the night. But we’ll be back tomorrow, bright and early, and I’m going to pay whatever sort of bill that this fine stallion has racked up.” His gaze hardened. “And if I hear that you’ve mistreated him in any way--or tacked on any bogus charges to his bill--then I’ll have to suggest that a few of my former students come by for a visit. In a professional capacity, of course.” The clerk paled, then hopped down from his stool and scurried into the back. Bluebook smirked, then turned, walked back to the couch, and started to gather their luggage. His wife shot him a look of mixed irritation and pride, and picked up the younger of their two foals. As they packed, Kingfisher hesitantly made his way over to Bluebook.  “Ye didnae have tae do that,” he said.  “‘Course I do,” he said. “You’re a pony, just like me. That makes you worthy of respect and protection, no matter who you are. Besides,” he said, picking up his other foal and setting him on his back, “I want to set a good example for my kids, just like I said.” “But they’re asleep,” Kingfisher pointed out.  Bluebook shrugged. “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “This isn’t the only time Honeycomb and I have stood up for someone else.” Bluebook’s wife gave Kingfisher a little wave. “The little ones know how important it is that we treat everyone with kindness and respect, no matter what.” He pulled Honeycomb in for a hug. “We want to make a better world for our foals, and we’ve got to do our part to make that happen.” “And besides,” Honeycomb cut in, “he couldn’t sleep at night if he didn’t do something.” She smiled. “He only teaches because Public Righter of Wrongs doesn’t pay very much.”  Bluebook chuckled, then extended his hoof. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said. “Bluebook.” Kingfisher shook his hoof. “Kingfisher,” he said.  “Good to meet you, Kingfisher,” Bluebook said. With one wing, he opened up one of his saddlebags, drew out a business card, and handed it to him. “If you ever happen to make it up to Ponyville, come on by. We’ll give you a hot meal and a warm bed anytime you need it.” “Good town,” Honeycomb added. “Nice and peaceful. It’s a bit of a commute for Bluebook, but it’s worth it for the kids.” “I might take yous up on that,” Kingfisher said, smiling for the first time since entering the hotel. He took the proffered card in his teeth, and turned to squirrel it away in his own bags.  Suddenly, there was a clattering in the hall, and the clerk bustled into the foyer, carrying a folded towel, an ornate door key with a wooden tag, and a strained half-smile on his face that looked like it was about to crack. Kingfisher gave the clerk an uneasy look, then turned back to Bluebook. “I better go,” he said.  Bluebook nodded. “Safe travels, friend,” he said, as he bent down to pick up one of his suitcases in his teeth.  “Aye,” Kingfisher replied, “safe travels tae ye, an’ all.” He turned and walked down the hall after the clerk. As he did, he realized that he was holding his head a little higher. The future was still gloomy, of course--no telling what he was going to do for lodging tomorrow night--but knowing that somepony else cared for him, if only as a fellow equine, made things a little more bearable.  The clerk opened the door to the room, put the towel on the bed a little too carelessly, then turned and marched from the room without another word. Kingfisher stepped gingerly inside, then looked around in awe. It was the single nicest place he had ever set hoof in. It even smelled nice, like mountain wildflowers in spring.  Kingfisher set his saddlebags on the floor, then lay down on the bed—absolute heaven after spending so many nights in the woods. He nearly fell asleep right then and there--but he decided he needed to get up and have a shower before he dirtied the sheets. A half-hour or so later, Kingfisher emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, a wet towel draped over his shoulders. He walked over to his saddlebags and pulled them open to find his toothbrush. Before he could start digging, however, he frowned. He plucked Bluebook’s business card off the top, read it, then turned it over.  Equestria had been rough for a pony like him. No debating that. If the whole place suddenly burned down or was drowned in the sea, he’d barely shed a tear. But maybe—just maybe—there were some ponies out there who made it worthwhile. Who didn’t necessarily know how it felt to be him, but did their best to lift his burden anyways. Those ponies alone couldn’t banish the dark clouds from the sky—not overnight, at least. But if there were enough of them, trying hard enough, they might, over time, just make the world a little brighter of a place.  Kingfisher carefully laid the card back on top of his bags. The next time he felt a need to go wandering, he might make his way to Ponyville. If Bluebook and Honeycomb were any indication, it might even be a nice enough place for him to consider settling down there. And that thought made him happier than he’d ever felt before.