Picking another fallen leaf out of my cup of coffee, I heard a familiar, if slightly out-of-breath, voice. “Hey, Track! Did you get the letter?”
“You’re late,” I grumbled. I tossed the leaf aside, then continued to stare into the depths of my cup even as my ears turned towards the source of his speech. “And how am I supposed to know? My house hasn’t burned down yet, so I still have a mailbox. Be more specific.”
Admittedly, most of the mail I’d been receiving were bills that I could still barely afford to pay.
“Fine, fine,” the voice replied. “You’re no fun.”
“I never aimed for ‘fun’, Crosstie,” I said. I finally took a sip, but found the coffee bitter and cold. I swallowed. “You wanted to say something?”
“Oh, yeah!” Crosstie said. “Here, I got the letter with me. Mailpony arrived when I was about to leave, and… well, you’ll see.”
I finally turned to face my companion. Crosstie was smiling, and held an already-torn envelope in his magical field. It had one of several letterheads which almost always signified good news.
“Let me take a look,” I said. “You’ve already had your moment.”
The letter floated towards me without another word even as Crosstie’s hoof was twitching with excitement. It undoubtedly took considerable restraint for him to not ramble—though he knew, after years of associating with me, to give me time to process these things. It was something for which I was eternally grateful.
I took the offered envelope and read the address label, a redundant task given that I was already sure of both the sender and receiver. Taking the letter out, I began to read.
Dear Crosstie,
Due to our long-time successful collaboration, I, representing Canterhorn Railworks, Inc., would like to offer you another opportunity as a railway engineer and builder. The project is of unusual importance, so we are only contacting our most skilled and consistent subcontractors. This will approximately be an eight-week assignment, although the timeline is still flexible.
Unfortunately, due to the delicate nature of this project, some details must be revealed in utmost confidentiality. I therefore invite you to Canterlot on the 21st–23rd of Manenmist to meet face-to-face. Specific responsibilities, payment, liabilities, and other information will be revealed over the course of several meetings. Your room and board is covered. Two tickets to and from Canterlot can be found in the envelope (though I hope you will only need one of them, for reasons discussed below).
Should you choose to accept, the construction crew will depart directly from Canterlot, so please bring along any personal belongings that you think you may need for the duration of the project. Some further details, including boarding locations, specific meeting times, and list of required legal documents, can be found in the rest of the letter.If you are not interested in this opportunity, please send a letter in reply. If you are, we require only your attendance at the meetings.
Best Wishes,
Fine Line, Project Manager of Canterhorn Railworks, Inc.
Ignoring anything beyond the cover page, I looked back at Crosstie. “Canterhorn Railworks, huh? The client must really care about the quality of the project.”
Crosstie laughed. “At least we’re not stuck with Waytrans this time! That was the most boring job I’ve ever done.”
Waytrans, short for Wayward Transportation, had a… dubious reputation among anypony in the construction industry. They were punctual—and there ended the list of positive adjectives that could be used to describe them. And the job in question that we had done with them was for the rebuilding of Canterlot, and if I was to be honest, we had been far from qualified. “At least we had a job, then,” I said. “Even if it wasn’t our usual.”
“Pay was good, though.” Crosstie took a seat at the table across from me, and eyed the coffee. “What, got cold again?”
“What else?” I replied. I pushed the cup towards him. “Also, I suspect we were overpaid. Even if we had no idea what to do with road repair, at least we were construction workers. Remember Svengallop?”
Crosstie grimaced, and I shared the sentiment. “I’d rather not.”
He carefully levitated another few leaves out of the coffee. With a final glance at the cup, Crosstie lifted it to his muzzle before slamming it back. After a long moment of quiet gurgles from his throat, he set the cup back on the table.
“I never understand how you drink cold coffee, Crosstie.” I gestured towards the empty cup. “It’s been so long since the first time you did this, and yet each time I am still surprised.”
“Four years, Track. Four years since you brought me here. And it’s just like the normal stuff, but cold.” Crosstie shook his head. “Honestly, sometimes I just don’t get you earth ponies.”
“I guarantee you, disliking cold coffee is a universal trait among all ponykind,” I said. “Maybe even among the non-ponies.”
“If you say so.” He stayed still for a moment, eyes staring at nothing in particular. A leaf fluttered above his head, before finally settling on his mane. Idly brushing it away with his magic, he spoke again.
“And I guess it does make sense that we earned way too much for that job.” I managed to remember where we had left off on that particular topic—such a skill being necessary in conversations with him. “If a pony like Svengallop could get on the crew, the Palace must have been real desperate to get repairs done.”
“That, and Waytrans never cared much for quality.” I picked up Crosstie’s letter. “Railworks, on the other hoof… I wonder who the new project owner is.”
“Of course it’s still the Palace, Clear Track!” He gestured wildly, disturbing a few of the leaves on the table. “Who else pays for railways? Crazy aristocrat trying to form their own nation?”
‘Crazy aristocrat’ would explain the secrecy, I thought on a tangent. But hiding a railway construction project would be nigh impossible.
“Why would the Palace require such discretion?” I asked Crosstie.
He shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe it’s something to do with those other nations. There’s been a bunch of joint projects ever since they helped us in that… invasion.”
‘Invasion’ was one way to describe that event.
“You make a good point. Delicate foreign relations might explain the secrecy.” I pushed the letter back to Crosstie. “Well, in any case, I do hope that you find this mystery construction project enjoyable, seeing as I had not received such an invitation.”
“Hey, that’s no fair!” He leaned across the table and pointed a hoof at me. “You’re the experienced one. Just watch. I bet you’ll see that letter sitting in your mailbox when you get back.”
“That’s a generous assessment of Equestria’s postal service, Crosstie. I expect it to be delivered for me long after the meetings at Canterlot have concluded.”
A short laugh was all that I got in response, and Crosstie settled back in his seat.
We stayed at Manehattan Park for a while, talking amongst ourselves and watching the leaves fall. Later, once I returned home, I found the same letter as the one Crosstie received tucked into my mailbox. I must have been lucky.
As Crosstie lay on the top bunk of our small train car, once again on our way to a new contract, I thought back to our very first one together.
It had been a railway expansion project in Appleloosa, where unicorns were rare and unicorns in construction unheard of. Yet, given our respective careers, a meeting was almost inevitable. Ponies with a railway-related cutie mark were in short supply, and even of those, many found their calling in conducting or train engineering. Of the ones who were specifically experts of railway construction—well, the Palace knew to only announce one project at a time, because starting a second would require doubling the population of qualified ponies in Equestria.
Wayward Transportation had landed the Appleloosa contract, but the specific general contractor mattered little. There were only so many ponies in my line of work. Everypony on the team was already a familiar face—except for Crosstie.
I had my doubts. There had been no unicorns before him, and Waytrans was known to hire ponies of… dubious skill. But Crosstie quickly demonstrated that he deserved his mark, a simple set of railway tracks, with the way he used his magic to do things I had bet was impossible. I thought I knew everything about railway construction, but my arrogance cost me dearly.
Well, not quite so “dearly.” It was only a total of thirty-eight bits.
Imagine my surprise when I discovered that he was living in Manehattan, too! It was a lonely time in my life, but we maintained contact when we were between assignments, meeting up at fancy musicals and run-down bars. The musicals had been his choice.
It was a few years later when I invited him to my weekly observations at the park, a ritual I had held ever since my father brought me there. It was good to have another pony I could share my coffee with again.
Although Crosstie’s coffee addiction wasn’t doing him any favours on the train ride.
“Crosstie!” I said, distracted from my reminiscing by the sound of yet another splash. “If you can’t keep your coffee in the cup, then don’t drink!”
“Hey, I haven’t even spilled it on you yet,” responded the muffled voice above me. “And we’re almost there, so I can finally get a break from all your complaining.”
“I was not simply complaining. Fire safety is a legitimate concern.”
“Yeah, yeah, remembering those old mares’ tales now, are we? Never took you to be the superstitious one.” Crosstie stuck his head past the edge of his cot to look down at me. “Didn’t you listen to Twilight?”
“Yes, well, Her Majesty Princess Twilight Sparkle told us to not be surprised if one of them spontaneously lights themselves on fire. How am I supposed to stay calm with that sort of statement as an introduction to their kind?”
Crosstie shook his head in disappointment. “Now you get why the Palace wanted us to shut up about all of this, right?”
I was taken aback. That was not the argument I had been expecting.
“Clarify?” I asked, though I had an inkling of where this would lead.
Crosstie coughed. “Well, I know you’re a good pony, Clear Track, and if you’re panicking, imagine the reactions if it got out.”
And that was a good argument against my irrational fears. Though the fears would remain, at least until I learned what they had cost.
“I… fine, Crosstie.” I looked away from him.“You’re right.”
“So whatcha gonna do about it?”
I sighed. “I will stop my ‘complaining’ for now, at least until we meet them. Though if we are supposed to teach them about railway construction, per our contract, I suppose interaction will be unavoidable.”
I lurched forwards slightly. Both of us looked out of the window. It’d better not be sheep again.
“Well, looks like you’re gonna get that first ‘interaction’ pretty soon, Clear Track.”
I grunted in agreement, and as the train stopped, I mentally prepared myself to meet these fearsome creatures who could burn at the slightest provocation.
The entire railway crew disembarked onto a pile of red shale disguised as a station platform, and we all gathered together for our first encounter with the kirin, the creatures with whom we would be working for the next two months.
“So this is the railway construction company Twilight sent us.” A tall figure looked at us with an strangely indiscernible expression. She had a dark green mane extending to the front of her body, and cream-coloured scales rested on a beige coat. A forked horn protruded from her forehead. I had gotten a glimpse of her while we were still on the train, but standing in her shadow, it made the kirin seem all the more formidable.
“Yes, that’s right,” our project manager said with a smile. “I’m Fine Line, and we are pleased to be working with you.” She held out a hoof.
The kirin did not take the offered hoofshake, and instead turned around to call out in a commanding tone. “Cinder Glow, Autumn Blaze, come now! The construction ponies are here.”
I had been so enraptured by the terrible kirin that I did not notice the two smaller ones standing beside the run-down ticket office.
“Buuuut Rain Shine!” a light-coloured kirin with a red mane said. “The ticket-seller was telling us stories!”
“Autumn Blaze, we have guests. Show some courtesy. And Cinder Glow, make sure nopony gets lost.”
I looked at the third kirin, whose emerald mane formed a striking contrast on her deep velvet coat.
Now, these kirin are more my size, I thought.
The larger kirin turned back to Fine Line. “My apologies. My name is Rain Shine, and I am the leader of the Kirin of the Peaks of Peril. Twilight claims she sent the best to teach the kirin; I expect you to live up to your name. But before we start, I must first show you our home.”
“Well, that works with me!” Fine Line said in a cheery voice. “Come on, everypony.”
It was quite a lengthy walk to the Peaks of Peril.
We were led by Rain Shine. On the way, Autumn Blaze was bouncing between us, telling us stories about the kirin. Well, calling her words “stories” was being generous; she flitted from topic to topic like a butterfly between flowers. Crosstie laughed at some of them along with the rest of the crew, while I kept a polite smile on my face.
Instead, my attention was focused on the other small kirin, the one named Cinder Glow, who kept watch over the group. The reason behind this strange three-way division of labour became apparent as I noticed that Rain Shine seemed to only be capable of looking forward, while Autumn Blaze’s attention span meant that we would likely already be at the destination before she would notice that somepony was missing. Cinder Glow kept a slight distance and frequently scanned her gaze across us, nodding occasionally.
That was, until she stopped to stare at a clump of small, blue flowers.
“What’s so special about these?” I asked, walking up behind her.
She looked up with a start and glared. “What, a kirin can’t have a moment to herself?”
“Sorry,” I said, scrambling. “I mean no offense. I was merely curious.”
The kirin paused for a moment and then laughed, to my immense relief. “Oh, nevermind. These flowers are called ‘foal’s breath’. They… make a great tea.”
I nodded, not inclined to force the topic further.
She glanced at the main group again, then looked at me. “Why aren’t you talking with Autumn Blaze, like everypony else? Most ponies seem to like her.”
I shrugged. “She’s fine, but it can be difficult to keep up with her stories. Why? Do you not?”
Cinder Glow shook her head. “No, no! That would be ridiculous. She saved the entire village once, after all. I would trust her with my life.”
From the way she sounded, I suspected that there was more to this story. But I was not in a position to pry, especially considering the… heated consequences. Though I did notice that Cinder Glow didn’t hold her head quite as high as before.
Us two walked in relative quiet, at least when compared with the main group, until we reached a large grey boulder. Rain Shine moved it aside with a golden glow to reveal a thin gap in the mountain.
“This is our village,” Rain Shine said. “You are welcome to enter.”
We followed Autumn Blaze through the gap in single file, while Rain Shine stood aside. She stepped in only after everycreature else had made it through, then replaced the boulder over the entrance.
Surrounded by mountains, the village was like a pearl within an oyster’s shell.
The village itself was mostly composed of small treehouses, ones which were more tree than house; it seemed that the trees themselves had grown hollowed-out trunks and raised platforms. Rain Shine told the crew that we would eventually receive our own treehouses for the duration of our stay as a sign of good-will, but that they had underestimated the amount of time it would take. As construction workers who were all too familiar with project delays, we didn’t blame them.
They did, however, treat us to a meal of a variety of dishes, some of which I suspected would have cost a fortune anywhere else. These plants were all grown locally, and I thought I recognized some of them from the many small gardens which dotted the village.
It was a quiet table, and I suspected it was due to a mutual desire to avoid offense—that, and Autumn Blaze’s absence. With little else to do, I focused on the food. It was good. Even if my palate was too dull from years of fast food to truly appreciate their quality.
After that brief exposure to kirin culture, night had fallen. Rain Shine, Autumn Blaze, and Cinder Glow once again escorted us along the path at the foot of the mountain. We stayed in our train cars for the night.
The next day, we began both construction and instruction on the railway. Almost half of the kirin village—Autumn Blaze and Cinder Glow included—came to learn. Fine Line asked if any of them had prior experience; their response was that “kirin construction worked a little differently.” I wondered if fire safety was a part of it.
Our work did not proceed as well as we had expected. Having trainees was common, but having so many—more than even the number of experienced workers—was difficult. Spending most of the time answering questions rather than actually building anything had depleted crew morale.
However, our professional difficulties were partially made up for by the kirin’s hospitality. Rain Shine had extended an open invitation for the construction crew to access the village, so we would all go to the village after our day’s work and only return to our train cars after an evening of socializing.
Over these next few days, I managed to catch a glimpse into the kirin way of life. And the first part to learn about? Food.
The kirin sustained themselves by growing a large number of crops in a limited area with the help of their horticultural magic. That magic also allowed them to cultivate harder-to-grow plants, many of which were considered exotic back in Equestria. I had thought that hayfries and coffee were amazing, but kirin cuisine was on a whole other level. They hoped to export many of these rare crops in the future; our work here was bringing them closer to that goal.
One such potential export was the foal’s breath flower, a local delicacy. It was a plant which only grew in this area, and, as I would soon learn, contained several magical properties. Indeed, it was over a cup of tea brewed from this flower that I learned about the source of Autumn Blaze’s heroic status.
“Hey, Clear Track, this actually tastes pretty good! It might even be better than coffee, and you know how much I love that stuff.”
“Better than cold coffee for sure,” I said, taking a sip from my own cup. “Although, so is water.”
“Hey!” Crosstie protested. “It’s not my fault that everypony else is so obsessed with how hot their drink is!”
“Coffee…” Cinder Glow said, sitting across from me at our table. She had recommended this café, The Glowing Kiln, and so most of the crew—pony and kirin alike—were here this evening. “I’ve heard you ponies talk about this ‘coffee’ quite a bit. Is it like our foal’s breath tea?”
“I suppose coffee is popular enough,” I said. “At least where Crosstie and I live.”
“And where would that be?” she asked.
“Manehattan,” Crosstie grunted. “Big city. Lots of ponies.”
“It really is quite an interesting place,” I said. “Some ponies call it the ‘lighthouse of Equestria’, with all the newest innovations appearing there, but I mostly just enjoy the convenience.”
“Ahh. Coffee must be important to you, then.”
“No?” I replied hesitantly. “There are many ponies who rely on it to keep them awake long past their natural hours, but I personally just enjoy the taste.”
Cinder Glow tucked a hoof under her chin. “Was it not invented in your city? Is there no story behind it?”
“Nah. I’m pretty sure it’s imported.”
“Is there something more to this… ‘foal’s breath tea’, then?” I asked. “I had thought it was merely something to drink.”
“Ooh, ooh, is someone asking about foal’s breath?” chimed another voice. I should not have been surprised that our conversation would be overheard in the crowded cafe. “Cinder Glow, can I tell them about it? Pleeeeeease?”
“Ummm… go ahead, Autumn.”
What followed was a completely bizarre experience. The enthusiastic Autumn Blaze had leapt onto our table, and before I could ask her to come down, she began to… sing? Initially, I was somewhat annoyed, but it soon became apparent that her song described an important part of kirin history. I settled down and tried to listen as well as I could, though I was sure I missed some of the metaphors. I was surprised to learn that some of our own Element Bearers were so integral to the kirin regaining their voices. And… was that a reference to The Spirit of the Stage?
“—that’s the lesson which the kirin finally learned!”
I applauded out of respect, and saw that the rest of the cafe did so as well. Autumn Blaze bowed to the cheers and hopped off the table.
“Does that explain it?” she asked me and Crosstie.
Before I could respond, Crosstie spoke up.
“That’s horrible!” he said. “How could Rain Shine have done that?”
Cinder Glow glared back. “Being mute and calm all the time isn’t so bad.”
“It didn’t feel bad because you couldn’t!” Crosstie slammed his cup on the table, drawing another round of looks from all around the tiny cafe. “And they were visitors! How dare she order them into the Stream as well!”
“It’s quite understandable, Crosstie,” I said, “when you consider that Rain Shine had thought the village was in danger of burning down. It was what she had asked of her own people.”
“And you, Clear Track! Do you understand what their fear had cost them? They couldn’t even talk for years! Ask yourself if you would have made the same choice Rain Shine did!”
Autumn held out a hoof in a warding gesture. “Hey, Rain Shine’s not evil, and I’m sure Clear Track here isn’t either. It was an honest mistake.”
But I fell silent after Crosstie’s remark.
“And,” Cinder Glow said softly, “Rain Shine should never have been forced to make such a difficult decision.”
Both Crosstie and I stared at her, but neither had the courage to press her on it. A moment passed.
“Well, then.” Autumn cleared her throat. “Who’s up for another round of tea?”
I absently nodded my head.