//------------------------------//
// A Wagon full of Hay 
// Story: Full Lance & The Holy Roman Empire 
// by Merallakos 
//------------------------------//

In the main hall of the manor, just outside the kitchen, and in between newly arranged shelving, Minty and Full Lance were finishing stacking sacks and bails of afflicted grains and hay on top of an old two wheeled cart. 
"And you're sure this is everything?" Full Lance asked.
"Everything you need to get rid of, yes." Minty responded.
"And you're sure you're going to use," Full Lance pointed. "That tiny hay bale too?"
"Lance, the cart is taller than you. I think we got everything."
"I don't know, Minty..." Lance eyed the bale.
"Fine." Minty submitted. She leaned down to scoop it up with her left hoof. With casual grace, she launched the mini bale upwards, watching as its velocity reversed towards the top of the cart's stack.
As the bale impacted the sacks a tiny "oof" issued from the cart.
"Oh no," Minty trotted towards the cart. "There's something in the cart"
"If it's another adder," said Full Lance. "The people I trade this grain to will have no choice but to try me as a witch or something."
Minty reached deep into the upper sacks of grains and started to tug something out. 
"Come help me, Lance," Minty said between efforts. "It's stuck."
Full Lance came and stood side by side with Minty, reaching in to grab hold of the thing. With one synchronous motion, they unleashed a mighty heave! A brown sack came free, uttering a tiny yelp as it rolled onto the floor. With a small flourish, a hazel unicorn colt slid out of the bag.
"Thistle!" exclaimed Minty. "How on earth did you get in there!?"
"I," coughed Thistle. "Am a stallion of," he paused to wheeze, "many talents, Mistress."
"You could've died!" Minty turned Thistle's face from side to side, examining it. "Oh no, you're pale. You needs some water.... And lecture" Minty added as she hurried towards the kitchen.
"Uh," Full Lance sat down across from Thistle. "What where you doing in the hay, Boy?"
"Thistle," Thistle corrected.
"Thistle," Full Lance submitted.
"Well..." Thistle paused, "Master Full Lance Sir, please take me with you to the city!"
"Uh, what?" 
"Minty's always so mean to me whenever we go to the city, so you could you please take me with you to the city, pleeeeease?"
"Uh... well, since you asked me so nicely, sure."
"Yes!" exclaimed Thistle.
"I was planning to take you all along."
"Oh." Thistle deflated. "Of course. Ahem." 
"Hey Thistle, could you..." Full Lance trailed off. "Stop calling me 'master?'"
"Huh?"
"And don't call me 'mistress' ever again," said Minty as she approached Thistle with a cup of water.
"Why?" puzzled Thistle.
"Because," started Full Lance, "It's just so awkward. You've known us for more than a year now, and you've been living with us for a full month now, so... there's no need to be polite?" Full Lance struggled with words.
"I know Primrose probably lectured you," Minty thought aloud. "But she's obsessed with court etiquette, to a fault, really."
"And in an everyday situation like this," added Full Lance. "You're not going to offend me by not calling me 'Sir Master Full Lance The Great' all the time."
"So just call me Minty."
"And call me Full lance."
Thistle's face screwed up, but he looked back at the sitting forms of Full Lance and Mint Simmer,"...Okay?"
Minty and Full Lance nodded appreciatively.
"Say it" whispered Full Lance out of the side of his mouth.
"What?" said Thistle, a little irritated.
"Say it," said Full Lance a little louder, gesturing emphatically between himself and Minty.
Thistle sighed and said, "Okay, Minty and Full Lance."
"Yay!" Minty clapped her hooves.

Elsewhere in the manor, a peasant keeled over and died in their miserable hovel of a desease that wouldn't be treatable for at least another six hundred years.

Full Lance patted Thistle on the back and smiled.
"Now, drink this," Minty slid an earthenware cup over to Thistle.
Thistle picked it up. He slurped it. He puzzled. "It doesn't taste like normal water."
"I put some herbs in it to help you." Minty responded.
"I trust," Full Lance said. "That none of those herbs are alcohol?"
"Of course not!" Minty punched Full Lance across the shoulder.
"So," Thistle drank some more tea. "Can we go to the city now, please?"
"Oh," Full Lance Stood up. "He's right; we really need to get going now."
"Hold on!" Minty Stood up and looked down at Thistle. "You still haven't gotten your lecture."
"Uuuuuugh," Thistle complained. "I just got one, can't it wait until later?"
"No!" Minty admonished, cracking her joints in preparation.
"Wait!" Full Lance said. "Unfortunately, his lecture is going to have to wait until later. We need to leave now if we're going to get to Castle Town and back before nightfall. 
Minty focused a withering glare at Full Lance... A really withering glare. Full Lance visibly trembled, but stood his ground. Thistle looked between the two of them, he could swear Minty would break out her wooden spoon at any moment to fling Full Lance into the nearest wall. Finally, Full lance broke the silence.
"Uh..." squeaked Full Lance. "I'll-- I'll give it to him on the way?"
After a long gap, Minty said, "Fine." And icily turned back towards the kitchen.
"I guess I need to en-harness myself..." Full Lance paused by the carts rails. "Enyoke?" he asked shakily as he ducked beneath the cart rails.
"Are you okay, Full Lance?" Thistle asked.
"Minty is... Minty can be really scary when she's mad. That's all," said Full Lance quietly as he poked his head up through the cart's yoke.
Thistle looked back towards Minty as she marched towards the other end of the hall where Grind seed was holding a missive burlap sack and some wooden planks.
"Hey Minty," Grind  Seed said.
"What." replied Minty flatly.
"Uhh, can I use one of your pots?"
"Why."
"Well, I need to heat up some bee's wax..."
Full lance shifted in the cart.
"Welp," said Full Lance turning away from the scene. "We should get out now."
"Yup," agreed Thistle as he finished his tea and stashed the cup.
Full Lance trotted back and forth --jostling the cart-- to make sure everything was secure. Once he was satisfied, they exited out the main doors.





As the large old doors swung closed behind Thistle and Full lance, a fresh fall breeze swept through them.
Full Lance's head rose as he took a great inhale through his nostrils.
A happy sigh of relief found it's way past his lips as he let his breath go. "It's nice outside today," he reveled.
Thistle mimicked the breathy ritual. "Yes," he sighed.
Full Lance took another breath cycle through his nostrils, filling his chest with as much air as possible, and enjoying the smell of sweetly decaying leaves, dancing with the aromas of pine sap. The smell of dry wood and clear sunshine in the cold air. the smell of autumn.
The breeze kicked up again. As fallen leaves rolled and skipped past Full Lance's hooves, he settled back to reality. His clear amber eyes focused on the packed dirt path in front of him, and he began to trot. Thistle stayed a moment longer before swiftly trotting up to Full Lance's side. 
"You know, it's kind of weird," said Full Lance as they made their way south.
"What?" asked Thistle.
"I've had a survey taken of this area the manor house is in," he gestured with a vaguely westward swoosh. "and do you see this ridge covered with trees?"
"Yeah," said thistle eyeing the rising pines.
"It's almost perfectly elliptical. You'd think that the previou--"
"Wait," Thistle interrupted. "Perfectly ellipti-what?"
"Elliptical, it means something is like a squashed circle, except in a more perfect way. An oval I guess?"
"Ah?"
"Yes, it's perfectly elliptical, so you'd think that the Manor House would be built in the center. But it isn't."
"Oh?"
"You see, the middle is actually The Pit," Full Lance gestured in front of them to the fairly large circular bowl filled with tall uncut yellowing grasses. "It's the center."
"That is kind of weird." agreed Thistle, but in truth he wasn't surprised as some part of him had already observed it various times. "...You know, it's a great place to hide in."
"Speaking from experience?" remarked Full Lance.
"Yeah, I used to try and find excuses to play hide and seek just so I could hide in it. Plus, at the bottom the ground is sloped just right to be comfortable to curl up in, but it's also very soft, so it's a great place to take a nap."
"is that so?" Full lance smiled.
"Yup!"
"Well, perhaps one of these days I'll have to try it myself."
"Heh, you'd probably have a hard time; being accustomed to your soft bed."
"You'd be surprised at what I've had to put up with in terms of sleeping conditions, Thistle."
The road angled south east, where it met the elliptical slope and began to climb, snaking it's up the tree covered surface northeast and into the heart of the manor. 
As the duo crested the ridge, they were greeted with level acres of reaped and newly seeded farmland, a couple flocks of sheep (currently being herded towards the commons in the west by Magnus) all interspersed with little stone and thatch homes. It was a mostly clear skied saturday morning and the children and adults were at leisure. Colts and fillies were playing tag, idly chatting, bothering the livestock and hosting stone throw competitions into the neighboring areas. Most of the older children that were out were fetching water, food or other supplies to take back to their homes. Meanwhile, interloping adults strolled through the manor, offering to trade and talk.  The smell of autumn trees, dried plants and old soil with a slight tinge of manure and smoke wafted through the air. 
As Full lance and Thistle trotted, they approached Red Blade's smithy. Red Blade's hammer could be heard forming hot iron. Then sounded workings of the bellows and the hot roar of the hearth forge, Then the smell of sweat and smoke. An apprentice with straining to use a sledge. The cherry red glow of cooling iron before it was again heated in the forge. 
Red Blade and his apprentice's work was evident throughout the manor. The hinges and handles on doors. The Hooks, clasps and buckles that fastened clothing for the ponies that wore it. A few pots, pans and fire pokers, Full Lance knew Red Blade had produced were in circulation. And of course, the sickles, knives, hoes, sieves, shovels, shears, scythes, and a handful of other tools came almost exclusively from Red Blade's forge.
"Why doesn't Red Blade make more swords?" asked Thistle suddenly.
"What?" asked Full Lance, taken aback.
"Well, I just thinking since knights and warfare is a such a big deal, how come Red Blade doesn't make more swords?" Thistle elaborated.
"You mean, why don't you have a sword?"
"No," Thistle dismissed. "Besides, daggers are way cooler than swords..." Thistle smirked skeptically at Full Lance. "Say, I am technically your squire, don't you think I ought to have a weapon?"
"Well, technically you should be training with swords and learning chivalry among other things right now, buuuut." Full Lance cleared his throat and said quickly, "I may or may have been avoiding all things knightly for the past... quite a long while now." He finished with an ample throat clearing. 
"Oh," said Thistle.
At precisely this time a white furred pony wearing a brilliant yellow Barbette and Fillet came walking towards Full Lance.
"Lord Full Lance," addressed the pony.
"Hello, Primrose," responded Full lance.
"Lady Primrose," primly corrected Primrose.
"Ugh," groaned Full lance, straining in the cart's collar. "What are you here for, Lady Primrose?"
"The way of Court, I'll have you know, is quite important, and is only becoming more so as time goes on, Knight Full Lance."
"Yes." agreed Full lance.
"Indeed," added Thistle.
"You know Thistle," Primrose began. "If you tried a little harder, I'm sure you could reach quite the ranks in nobility, once you become a knight."
"Ugh," said Thistle simply. "I don't want to do this conversation anymore."
"Agreed," Full Lance seconded. "What did you want to tell me, Lady Primrose?"
"You two..." Primrose squinted at them both, then sighed. "Sometimes I wish I had been as vehemently rejective about politics as you two."
"Do you really though?" Thistle remarked.
"Yes." Primrose said sincerely. 
Full Lance nodded.
"Anyway," continued Primrose. "You're quite a ways away from any of the store houses at this point, so what are you doing with all those winter stocks?"
"You already know, don't you?" Full Lance asked.
"It never hurts to check your primary sources, Lance." Primrose said it with a look that implied, "Always check your primary sources."
"So you want something from me?"
"I just wanted to warn you not to make a fool of yourself in front of Duke Bell."
"I'm not going to Duke Bell." Full lance said it in a soft but certain voice.
"Duke Bell has been increasing the city guard's number, therefore their food intake, therefore therefore the amount food they store. I'm sure Bell would be happy to trade you for your suitably moist stocks. Why on earth wouldn't you go to Duke Bell?"
"I'm not going to Duke Bell," Full Lance repeated.
Primrose slipped a hoof up under her hat to scratch her head, studying Full Lance. 
She was about to open her mouth to say something, but Full Lance was faster.
"That was rather un-courtly of you." he said, daintily holding up a hoof.
"Bah," she said. "Courtesy is for those in court."
Full lance nodded again. "It's a strange day when I feel jealous of you, Primrose."
Primrose nodded back, then, in a blonde explosion, her hat fell off. She sighed. 
"Well," she said as she stopped. "Good luck, Full Lance."
"You as well," said Full Lance chivalrously.
Thistle and Full Lance trotted a while longer before another word was spoken. Their chat had taken them to the far north east edge of the manor, denoted by a low stone wall that separated Full Lance's fief from an unclaimed forest. There were a few ponies on the road coming into and out of the manor; there almost always were. Full Lance spared one last look back  at his manor, it's farms, the scattered homes, the trees that obscured the manor house, and the many people that supported the manor as the manor supported them, even if only just.
Full Lance looked over to Thistle.
Thistle looked at Full Lance, raising an eyebrow.
"Are you ready for three more hours of non-stop trotting?" Full lance asked with mock enthusiasm.
"Only if there's a castle town at the end of it," Thistle replied.
Full Lance chuckled as they set off into the forest.