//------------------------------// // Chapter 2 // Story: To Glimpse a Wider World // by Burraku_Pansa //------------------------------// “No luck with your group, ah take it?” Applejack’s voice held a note of hope, begging to be disagreed with. She and Rarity, both with bags under their eyes, looked expectantly across the café table at Pinkie Pie. “Nope…” responded Pinkie, her face scrunched up. “This whole thing has just been no good at all! I mean, I knew something bad was going to happen yesterday—days when I wake up with a tummy ache are always bad. But, y’know, they’re usually bad ‘cause of the tummy ache.” Rarity poked idly at her uneaten lunch, as she had been doing before Pinkie arrived. “Mm,” she said, “Fluttershy’s party has failed to turn up so much as a clue to where the girls might have gone, either.” The mare gave a tired sigh and rested her head on her forehooves. “Personally, I’ll be so relieved when we find them that I doubt I could even manage to give Sweetie a punishment for being so reckless.” Applejack grumbled. “Speak fer yerself, missy.” “…I was,” Rarity offered tiredly. “I said ‘personally’. And whatever do you mean? Won’t you be relieved?” “‘A course!” said Applejack. “Ah’ll be so relieved ta have Apple Bloom back, ah’ll ground that troublemaker. She’ll be lucky if ah don’t tan her little hide, so you can bet she won't be leavin' mah sight!” Pinkie Pie wore a frown, while Rarity suppressed a gasp. “Jeez, AJ,” said Pinkie, “that’s kinda rough. Well, at least let her come to the ‘We Found You Guys!’ party!” Applejack knitted her brows. “Pinkie, ah know this ain’t the easiest thing fer y’all ta understand, but ya can’t go throwin’ a party fer every gosh-darned thing. If we give a kid a party every time they up an’ run off, what’s that tell ‘em?” Pinkie tilted her head, and Applejack sighed. “That tells ‘em that—” “Girls! Hey, girls!” Applejack, Pinkie, and Rarity looked over to see Twilight Sparkle. The mare came trotting up to the café, a wide smile on her face. “I finally found you—I’ve got some good news!” “What is it, darling?” asked Rarity. An instant later, she sat up bolt upright. “Have they found the Crusaders?” Twilight stopped in her tracks, blinking. Her eyes widened. “Oh…” she said, looking to the ground. “I'm sorry, Rarity, but no.” She looked up again, smile back in place. “But it’s the next best thing! We have a lead!” The others perked up as well. Rarity said, “Do tell.” “A train conductor pulling into town today told us that three kids—one of them wearing a big, red bow—were found sneaking around the train. When they realized they’d been caught, they hopped off at the next stop. They’re in Canterlot!” “R-really?” said Applejack. “Well, what’re we waitin’ fer? We’ve got a train to catch!” - - - - - Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle had quickly set about their task of finding a place of temporary employment. A great garden, pride of the city’s commercial district, decorated the center of Canterlot Square, while around the outer ring were a wide variety of shops. The trio had circled the sidewalk along this ring, considering each shop they passed in turn. Occasionally they would spot a store that caught their interest, yet each time they had entered and asked to be taken on as apprentices, they had been turned down. A cobbler had told them that they were too old to start learning his trade. A clockmaker said without hesitation that they were too young. The barista at a café they had tried simply looked up and laughed at them the moment they walked in the door. “This isn’t going so well…” muttered Sweetie Belle, just as the trio exited a shop that primarily sold musical instruments. The owner had actually seemed willing to take them on, just before Scootaloo had picked up and attempted to play a flute. The unfortunate instrument was now jutting out of a punctured drum. “Well, don’t go blaming me,” said Scootaloo. “I mean, why’d she set up all that music stuff everywhere if ponies aren’t supposed to try it out?” Her friends rolled their eyes and said nothing, continuing along the sidewalk. Looking ahead, Apple Bloom slowed. She pointed a hoof towards a nearby clothing store. “How ‘bout that place?” The others looked up, Scootaloo eyeing the shop. “I dunno,” she said. “Looks kinda girly to me.” “No, it’s perfect!” said Sweetie Belle. “I help out Rarity at the Carousel Boutique all the time. I’ve got experience—they have to take us!” The filly trotted happily towards the clothing outlet. Behind her, Scootaloo shrugged to Apple Bloom, and the two followed along momentarily. As the trio entered the building, however, the slowed to a stop. Every eye in the store was trained on a nearby customer. “Ninety bits!? You cheat Trixie!” “Ma’am, please! There’s no need to make a scene…” A smattering of customers throughout the busy clothing store had ceased to search for purchases, now staring intently at a raucous, royal blue unicorn mare and the tired-looking burgundy stallion that was currently waiting on her. The mare, having taken a moment to realize how loud she had been, looked about sheepishly. Noting her relative calmness, the attendant spoke again. “Ma’am, I assure you: ninety bits is a reasonable price, as it seems you’ve managed to select the finest wizard’s hat and cape in the entire store.” At this, Trixie began to grin. “Designer items such as this are appropriately expensive,” he continued, “but if they are out of your price range, we have a wide selection of cheaper alternatives.” Trixie’s grin disappeared immediately. “The Great and Powerful Trixie does not dress herself in rags from the bargain bin!” she said, her voice raising once more. “Image is half of Trixie’s career! She will admit that she is a bit desperate to replace her old costume, but Trixie could never settle for anything less than perfection. After all, Trixie is perfection!” She lifted her chin and giving a grand sweep of her foreleg. The stallion lowered his head, sighing audibly. “The price is what it is, ma’am…” he began again. “As I was telling you, the Balucci cape is ninety bits, and the Hafliger hat is another hundred and twe—” “Do you mean to tell Trixie that ninety bits is the price of the cape alone!?” the mare cut in. “Are you insane? Why, what poor foal could possibly afford that here in this backwater town?” “Ma’am, I would hardly call Canterlot a backwater town,” said the attendant with just a pinch of agression. “And again, the price is what it is. All together, you’re looking at a cost of two hundred and ten bits.” After a few moments of silence, and another few of frustrated grumbling, the mare responded, “Alright, fine. Trixie will pay your ridiculous prices, but know this: from here on out, the Great and Powerful Trixie shall forever tell her fans to avoid the unscrupulous thieves of… What was the name of this establishment, again?” “The Sumptuous Saddle, ma’am.” “Yes! The villains of The Sumptuous Saddle!” shouted Trixie, rearing back in a triumphant manner and earning herself more stares. The stallion sighed once again before leading her over to the counter. The Crusaders finally broke the stare they had been directing at Trixie throughout the ordeal. “Who the hay is that pony?” asked Scootaloo. “Ah dunno. Sure seems full ’a herself, though.” “Oh, wait! I remember her,” said Sweetie Belle. “She was in Ponyville before. She’s that mare that Snips and Snails got thrown out of town.” “Well, what’s she doing here?” asked Scootaloo. “Buyin’ a hat, ‘a course. Don’t you listen?” “No, I mean, like, isn’t she a magician or something? Do you think she’s in Canterlot to do a show?” “Hm…” Sweetie Belle, her expression neutral, stared at the silver-blue tail disappearing out through the shop’s exit. “I have an idea. Come on, we need to follow her.” - - - - - Stepping out from the confines of the clothing store and into the open air of Canterlot, ‘The Great and Powerful’ Trixie shone in the strong daylight that reflected off of the silk-like texture of the new purchases. Myriad arcane designs—in metallic silver thread that matched the silvery blue of her mane—decorated the deep indigo fabric of her small, off-the-shoulder cape as it fluttered in a light morning breeze. Soft white gold trimmed its corners and the top of its collar, as well as the edges and tip of the similarly purple hat, which was now snugly fit atop Trixie’s head, concealing her horn. Be it the radiance of the sun glinting off of her new attire or, as the mare might assert, the radiance of Trixie herself, she was garnering attention from the passersby. ‘A good start…’ she thought. Trotting purposefully from underneath the store’s awning, Trixie made her way to the nearest corner of the Canterlot Square garden. A small area of greenery and flowers, it was far too improvised for her to call it a stage, but without any trees to obscure an onlooker’s view of the performance she was about to put on, she felt that it would serve her purposes nicely. A professional, Trixie regretted having to work without a stage for the time being, her old transportable one having been lost in the same tragic event that had claimed her previous costume. Unfortunately, stage-equipped wagons and carriages are hard to come by—and, not to mention, very expensive. What’s worse, her recent purchases had left her all but destitute. With this thought in mind, Trixie used her magic to levitate a coin pouch out from within her mane. ‘Let’s see,’ she thought, magicking the pouch open and peering inside. ‘…Six… eight… ten… eleven gold bits and… five silvers.’ Trixie sighed, pulling the drawstrings taut once more and stowing the pouch away. ‘That settles room and board at the inn for the night, if only just. Tomorrow, however…’ The mare groaned this time. ‘A new stage of my own will be at least twelve hundred bits, and I won’t be caught dead with some bargain model. Until then, though… Ugh, I detest street magic. The audience never appreciates my prowess! At least, not in any way that covers expenses.’ Trixie gave a hard stare to the ponies that passed on the nearby sidewalk, a good majority of them dressed in finery, noses held high. ‘And the filthy little moneygrubbers in places like this are as bad as they come…’ She suppressed an urge to shout “sycophants” at the top of her lungs, well aware that no audience would pay her for insulting them. ‘Not yet, at least.’ Trixie surveyed the hustle and bustle that passed by her small bubble of nature. ‘Now, how to begin? I could give them the old “Come one! Come all!”… No, no. Without a stage, that might be a tad presumptuous, even for me. Perhaps the best way to begin…’—Trixie’s mouth grew into a smirk as she started to call some magic into her horn—‘is to begin.’ Focusing her magic on her hind hooves and her back, the blue unicorn felt the warm, telltale glow in her horn as she released the spell. It had been a basic balance spell, one that allowed her to stand and move about bipedally with ease. She grasped a bit of the grass beneath her front hooves and reared up, tearing the blades from the dirt as she stood upright. Trixie then held her hooves before her chest, lined up with and pointing at each othr, and with roughly a quarter-hooflength of space between them. The mare called upon her magic again, grasping the grass in a telekinetic hold. The blades began carving a sluggish, cyclical path through the air between Trixie’s hooves, gaining speed as the unicorn forced more and more magic into her task. She wore a knitted brow, concentration clear as she searched for just the right rotation speed. Trixie began a series of slow, showy, mystical, and altogether unnecessary hoof motions around the now-swirling blur of green. By this point, a small group of ponies had noticed what she was doing and stopped to watch. As Trixie adjusted the speed of the grass, a sharp whistle cut through the air, and a great many more ponies turned to look at the source of the noise. A grin broke out on her face and, keeping the grass flying at the same speed, she willed each blade to break off and form its own circle. She started adjusting the blades’ speeds and orientations—and the circles’ sizes and shapes—individually. Soon, each distinctive whistling noise began to work in harmony with the others, and they formed a simple tune. For a few minutes, this continued, the impromptu song never growing very complicated, but remaining light and catchy all the same. As the song died down, Trixie shifted her magical focus yet again. As each blade of grass ceased to be a part of the tune, she sent it flying into the air, where it exploded into small-scale fireworks of green and white. The final piece of grass was now circling around Trixie herself. Once the mare was certain that every eye in her audience was trained on the spinning blade, she slowed its orbit until it had almost halted, and then pumped a different spell into it than before, still gesticulating as she went. The grass began to elongate. Soon, it was indistinguishable from a sizable green ribbon, spiralling up and around the invested magician. Then, all along the ribbon’s length, more growth occurred, outwards this time. The object now seemed like a fat, animated vine, with Trixie starting to move it away from herself, making it perform different aerial maneuvers. It did figure eights, loop-de-loops, and a great deal more spiralling, the her fore hoof moving in similar patterns, as though guiding it. Channeling yet another spell into the ‘vine’, Trixie gave the entire length an otherworldly, ethereal glow. At the top, a gruesome head, snake-like with eyes of a deep red, suddenly formed. Still twisting it wildly through the air, Trixie looked down and sized up her audience, searching for the bravest-looking pony among them. Her eyes alighted on a young stallion towards the front whose face held an impassive expression. She smirked. Trixie willed the ghostly snake forward, rapidly bringing it to within a hooflength of the apathetic stallion. The stallion’s eyes flew open wide as its jaws snapped menacingly at the air, and he tumbled backwards, yelping. The snake gave a long, rumbling hiss, and a sound of enraptured surprise left the mouths of the crowd at large. Growing somewhat drained, and feeling that that was enough of a high note, Trixie decided to wrap up her performance. Pulling back the snake, she shot it straight upwards into the sky. A few moments later, there was an impressive explosion of magical sparks. Green, red, and white, they showered over the audience, disappearing just before they came in contact with any surface. The ‘Ooh’s and ‘Ah’s emanating from the gathered ponies gave Trixie the distinct feeling of a job well done. Distracted as the crowd seemed to be, Trixie decided that now was the perfect opportunity to collect her pay. As she made to remove her hat, however, she could see some members of the audience walking off. ‘Hmph,’ she thought. ‘It’s always the rich ones! If they dare to pay me even half as poorly as I expect, this day shall certainly be the last I spend in such a wretched place…’