This Platinum Crown

by Capn_Chryssalid


Chapter Eighteen : The Knight and the Enchantress

- - -
(18)

The Knight and the Enchantress

- - -

Chickens.

Scootaloo wasn't exactly a big fan of flightless fowl to begin with; her recent activity and 'training' hadn't exactly done much to improve her opinion of the birds. There was nothing deep or self-reflective about it. Not really. Probably not, anyway.

She was just tired of chasing the dumb things!

Hooves scrambling, the Cutie Mark Crusader jumped high to intercept one of the fleeing, flapping chickens, catching it by the neck with her mouth in midair. White wings beat furiously, nearly blinding her, but Scootaloo resisted forcing her eyes entirely closed despite the abuse to her face. She already had one chicken under her left foreleg, angrily pecking at her chest, and now one in her mouth. The maximum she could bring back at a time was three. One more.

Landing softly on three legs, she stared across the muddy field at her nemesis. Henrietta. The Queen Bad-B-word of Chickens herself. Swallowing the earthworm that had just been squirming between her beak, the large white hen began to pace, all while eyeing the intruding filly ruining their freedom.

'You again?' she seemed to say with her beady bird-eyes. 'I won't go back this time. You can't cage me, and I won't go back to dealing with that evil bunny rabbit! I won't!'

Or maybe, Scootaloo had to admit, her imagination was just running a little wild. Probably also it was getting bad vibes from her so called trainer. Either way, there was no point thinking too deeply about it. Deep thoughts were for Sweetie Belle, and it was clear how much trouble they got her into.

“Ir'lh grwet ru riss grime!” Scootaloo shouted, standing to point dramatically at Henrietta, the chicken in her mouth starting to struggle again, a wing smacking into her left eye.

Scootaloo charged, buzzing, body narrowing and flattening as she blasted forward at top speed. Henrietta's talons were already kicking up clods of dirt as she made her escape, wing flapping and occasionally taking her off the ground for long flight-assisted leaps. Despite the wing slapping against the left side of her face, Scootaloo didn't lose sight of her quarry. The chase was on, and once Henrietta was back in the hen house, the others would fold like a house of cards. Checkmate.

Closing the distance with a burst of speed, Scootaloo reached for her nemesis fowl, only for Henrietta to briefly vanish. 'Up! She went up!' Skidding on her hind legs, the world spinning around her, Scootaloo reversed her momentum and shot upwards. Sure enough, Henrietta was up in the air, her wings flapping to keep her mostly in place. Seeing the pegasus filly closing in, she cut her flapping short and dropped, fast.

'Missed!' Scootaloo's hoof again closed in on empty air.

Rebounding off a tree she made another flying leap, catching sight of Henrietta as she zigzagged wildly through the brush and groundcover. The rustle of leaves betrayed her. Nimbly moving from branch to branch, Scootaloo never lost sight of her target's movement. Any moment now, she would play possum and try and disappear...

“Rrere!” Scootaloo cried, seeing the movement abruptly cease. Slamming her free foreleg down into the dense ivy, a whoosh of force bucked a storm of leaves and debris into the air. Glaring up from beneath her destroyed cover, trapped by Scootaloo's hoof right next to her body, Henrietta clucked in indignant, impotent anger.

“Grot ruu!” Scootaloo muttered, triumphantly. The stupid chicken in her mouth was still flapping around. But she had it!

Henrietta pecked her on the nose.

“Ow! Strop rat! Rrupid ricken!”

- -

Scootaloo endured the bandage and petroleum jelly on her nose. It was annoying, and itchy, but by and large offset by the milk and cookies Fluttershy had put out for her as a way of thanks. The kind pegasus and foalsitter still hadn't put two and two together and realized that the recent 'chicken troubles' she'd been having weren't just a coincidence. Her chickens had always been kind of bird-brained and escape prone, after all.

The savory, moist flavors of peanut and oatmeal and just melted in her mouth. Fluttershy made some good cookies and Scootaloo made darn sure to eat them all, and enjoy them, before leaving the sanctuary that was the honorary game warden's house outside town. There were animals everywhere, cavorting around both the front and back yards, running the whole gamut from an 'A' for armadillo to a 'W' for warbler. No walrus yet, despite Fluttershy's wanted posters. The vast majority didn't have a problem coming and going or running away the moment somepony mysteriously broke their enclosure. Stupid chickens.

Brushing her mane with a hoof, just to make sure there were no stray fowl feathers left, Scootaloo skipped down the road to town. Not only was it embarrassing to get her caught with her hoof in the proverbial henhouse, but she couldn't risk her friends finding about where she was sneaking off to and why. It was for their own good, for one, but she had also made a promise not to tell anypony.

Of course, she hadn't Pinkie Pie Promised...

“Hey. Runt. Why didn't you bring me a cookie?”

Scootaloo didn't even bother to look up where she knew a certain somepony was probably hanging from a branch. How somepony so big - and so fond of violence - could move so quietly, she had no idea. It was eerie.

“Last time you ate all of them and not just one,” Scootaloo informed her. “I did all the work, so I get all the cookies.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ritterkreuz said from overhead. “I saw.”

Without warning, she swept a wing down, scooping Scootaloo up and into the air. She didn't put the little filly on her back, however. Instead, she balanced Scootaloo on her outstretched wing while she skipped from branch to branch, keeping a low profile away from prying eyes. There had been a string of beaten guards and wounded Wonderbolts discovered around and outside Ponyville. Even when she hadn't gotten into an outright fight with another pony, every time Scootaloo met up with her would-be flight instructor the big mare was sporting some new bruises.

“What do you do all day?” Scootaloo had to ask, poking a matted scrape on the older pegasus' wing. “Doesn't that hurt?”

“It does when you poke it,” Ritter grumbled, rolling her eyes. “As for what I do... it's the same thing you should be doing. Every day and every hour. Training.”

“You mean fighting?”

“Any fight worth the time is training.”

“Yeah, well, some of us have friends and a life,” Scootaloo quipped, settling down on the former Wonderbolt's wing and even rolling nonchalantly onto her back. She had seen the crazy pegasus flip fallen trees with her wings. Flip. Fallen trees. Her wing muscles were unreal.

“You mean that little white horn-head and the pint sized tree-kicker?”

“Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom,” she informed the older pony. “Plus, I still have to write my report for Decoration Day.”

“How lame,” Ritter scoffed. “Decoration Day. What a joke.”

“What does that mean?” Scootaloo asked, and poked the scrape on Ritter's wing when she didn't answer. “Hey! What did you mean by that? You don't like Decoration Day weekend?”

One of Ritterkreuz's golden eyes turned to stare at Scootaloo, catching her by the corner of the big mare's vision. The filly froze, still balanced on the mare's wing. She'd known since first running into the former Wonderbolt that she was dangerous, but she'd never really acted particularly badly. Not really. She'd never been that threatening or mean. Insulting - all the time - but not really that mean. If anything, she mostly acted pretty foalish, like a big kid. For the first time, Scootaloo saw a real hint of violence in the mare's yellow eye.

Then it was gone.

“What are you supposed to write about anyway?” Ritter asked, pointedly avoiding answering the question from before. She closed her eyes even as she jumped down, from branch to branch, to land on the ground.

Scootaloo needed a moment to relax and get back to normal. “Just... famous ponies who serve Equestria.”

“Ponies who serve Equestria... huh?”

“Like Wonderbolts. Or... well, Sweetie's writing about Prince Blue and his park ranger thing.”

“Grand Veneur,” Ritter corrected her, slowly opening her eyes to once again watch where she was going. “And who is that earth pony filly writing about?”

“Some uncle of hers in Manehattan. He's running for Mayor or something.”

“Yeah? And what about you, runt?”

“I dunno,” Scootaloo admitted, glad that her would-be trainer was back to normal, or what passed for her weird version of normalcy. “I was gonna write about Rainbow Dash, since she's the town's head weathermare, but Miss Cheerilee says I always write about her, so I have to pick somepony else. Which sucks because I know everything about Rainbow Dash and could just reuse one of my old reports on her. Plus, I don't really know about anypony else. I guess Miss Doo counts, since she's a mailmare, but I bet Dinky wants to write about her...”

Her flight instructor snorted, derisively.

“I don't suppose you know anypony?” Scootaloo asked the question much more slyly than usual, making a production of looking away and simply wondering out loud.

“No. I don't.”

“Yes, you do! You do! Out with it! Come on!”

Ritter stared levelly at the filly bouncing up and down on her outstretched wing.

“There are other Wonderbolts around town. Why not write about that little girl-scout, Spitfire? Or that playcolt, Soarin?” Ritter asked back. “I know you sure as hell don't want to write about me. What with me being an evil fugitive and all.”

“I guess not...” Scootaloo admitted, head dropping slightly. “But I haven't come up with anypony good that hasn't been done before. And I have to hoof over the report tomorrow!”

“Oh, I get it! You want something juicy to show off for the class?” Ritter's mouth broke into a vicious grin, despite her facing forward. “I can help with that. Sure. You can write about my old stallion.”

“Your... what?”

“My father,” Ritter replied, her pace picking up somewhat. “The Governor General of Cloudsdale.”

“Ummm?” Question marks floated over Scootaloo's head. “What does he do?”

“Doesn't this Miss Cheerilee teach you anything in that mud pony school of yours?” Ritter snapped, frowning at the little filly.

“Do you know what the difference between a proper and common noun is?” Scootaloo asked back.

“Uh... no?”

The filly nodded sagely, as if expecting that answer. “Who invented the printing press?”

“Uhhh.”

Scootaloo continued, mercilessly. “Who gave us the leap year?”

“Errr.”

“What kind of animal spirit is Discord?”

That one I know!” Ritter announced with due pride. “He's a drag-qaaa-no-pony. Ponycamp. Dracoponycamp. Dragon-o-pony-monster. Okay, I don't know.”

“Well, you tell me who the Governor of Cloudsdale is and what he does, and I'll tell you what kind of creature Discord is.”

“Runt... I kinda wanna toss you into the bushes right now.” Ritterkreuz, needless to say, didn't follow through. Instead, she sighed. “Okay. Look. The Governor-General of Cloudsdale is the big pony who plans out Equestria's weather patterns. He and this committee of eggheads decide where the water gets sucked up and where it rains back down. All the local weather teams, like that Rainbow Bitch's squad, take their orders from Cloudsdale.”

“They even schedule disasters, like tornados and hurricanes and experiment with weather. Hell if I know why the world needs the occasional hurricane or flood, or... other things... but somepony smarter than me decided that was how it worked. Usually they just dump the problematic weather out in the boonies anyway. All of that, it all comes from the desk of my old stallion, Winter Bora.”

“So how come you call him an old stallion?” Scootaloo clopped a hoof down on Ritter's wing in realization. “Is it because he's old?”

“Nooo,” Ritter said, looking surprised. Then she snickered. “I guess he is sort of an old fart, but he isn't like... seventy or anything. He isn't an old grandpa. I just don't like him that much. Geez, I thought that would be obvious.”

“But he's your dad!” Scootaloo protested, still sounding and looking confused. “Why don't you like him? Don't you love your mom and dad?”

Ritterkreuz didn't answer right away.

The two traveled further down the dirt path before she replied, “I don't. No.”

Scootaloo gave the older pegasus a sad look, but Ritter refused to do anything but stare straight ahead. The filly expected her to drop the subject entirely after an answer like that, but the big mare eventually continued on.

“Winter Bora... he's a former Wonderbolt. He even trained Captain Thunderhead. There's no way you ever met Thundy, Runt, but he was strong. Worthy of the title Captain. The old fart showed him how to fly and fight. Made him into a legend. Loved him like a son. Taught him everything... almost everything. Too bad for him.”

Midway through her description her voice and features became serious, her characteristic vicious grin giving way to a reflective mask.

“You know, Runt, I think I have a complex about my old stallion sometimes. Back when Blueblood and I used to buck I would call him daddy and have him sp-”

“AAAAHHH!!!” Scootaloo's mad cry thankfully blocked out the rest of whatever the crazy pegasus was in the process of imparting. “Language! Language! I'm just a filly! And I don't want to hear about that! GROSS!”

“Huhh? Oh yeah. I forgot.”

“How could you forget?!” The schoolfilly stomped up and down to drive the point home, and to hopefully drive the image out of her own fertile imagination. It was easier said than done, though, especially since she had read those letters Sweetie Belle had borrowed. “Are you stupid or something?!”

Ritter shrugged, the motion bouncing Scootaloo up and down on her outstretched wing.

“I was saying, I guess my dad knew how to bring out a pony's strengths. It makes sense he would. Just like the unicorns have their stupid stuff, Cloudsdale has Four Winds. He's the North.”

“Four Winds?” Scootaloo wondered. That had to be north, east, west and south.

“Yep. I wonder how much of what I tell you to write your teacher will even believe?” Ritterkreuz put back on another toothy grin, but it only seemed skin deep. “Then again... Decoration Day... maybe I...”

“Maybe you what?”

Flapping her wing without warning, Ritterkreuz tossed Scootaloo into the air, letting the filly land on her own. “Maybe I've had enough talking for today.”

“Alright! Some real training!” Scootaloo cheered, looking around at the seemingly empty field around the two pegasi. Her cheer then died a bit and she turned on her supposed mentor. “Hey! What are we doing out here? Are you gonna teach me how to take off?”

“Runt, you have to grow talons before you can maul anything.”

“What?” The little filly asked. “Talons?”

“A griffin saying. Point is: I've got something else for you to work with. You'll love it! Trust me!” Ritterkreuz giggled to herself as she crept over to some long grass and picked up a pair of wheels.

“Those better not be-”

“Training wheels!” Ritter exclaimed, breaking into full on guffaws as Scootaloo pouted, angrily stomping her hooves.

“No no no! I am not wearing training wheels! Not in a million billion zillion years!”

“Really?”

“No. Not ever! Hey! Lemme go!”

- - -

“Thanks again fer comin' along, Pinkie Pie. Ah tell ya, it's kinda nice to see at least one'a us isn't havin' some sorta crisis.”

“No problem, Applejack!” Pinkie Pie bounced alongside her friend, a small box of treats nestled securely - somehow - in the curly confines of her fluffy pink mane. “Just think of me as your number one source of normalcy in Ponyville!”

“Ah wouldn't go that far, sugarcube,” Applejack joked, squinting her eyes against the morning sun bereft of her beloved Stetson. She tried not to think about its absence. This morning was make or break for Sweet Apple Acres, and for what had to be the first time the future of the farm was riding not just on hard work. It was reliant on a hoof-full of papers in her saddlebags.

Pinkie appeared to note her friend's thoughtful pause.

“Hey, Applejack?”

“Yeah?”

“I'm sorry I drank so much of Flim and Flam's cider...”

“Ah, don't sweat it!” Applejack leaned over to bump shoulders with the other earth pony. “Ah've been tryin' ta get Granny Smith to sell cider in town for years now. Ah know it ain't exactly convenient to sell it out by the farm. We'll pull through and we'll be better for it next year.”

“It's really okay?” Pinkie asked, guilt lowering the normally lively tone of her voice. True to form, she had come by the farm every day to buy cider, but with how drink-crazy the pink pony was, Applejack knew she was buying some in town, too. Who wasn't?

Sweet Apple Acres had been forced to make a few changes to their sales program this cider season, due to the unexpected and frankly crippling competition. Barrels of cider were made the night before and taken to market in the morning. 'Fresh squeezed' cider was available at the farm itself, just like it had been for a hundred cider seasons past, but now Sweet Apple Acres could be bought in the town as well.

They had also changed their distribution scheme to keep pace, using local business contacts. It was a lot of work, and they still weren't selling anywhere near normal capacity, but the farm wasn't sunk yet. Apple Bloom had even rigged up a filter for the press, so they could make filtered cider - less pulp - along with normal cider, and Granny was brewing up a high proof alcoholic mix to compete with the Flim Flam boys' brand of Tom's Rock Hard (which had tested very high in street surveys). According to Mac's books, sales were up to almost half normal.

“Ah just wish ah didn't have'ta wear this silly thing,” Applejack groused, motioning to herself with one hoof. She had 'borrowed' some clothes from Rarity, namely a mare's business collar in black and white. She'd originally planned on just reusing Big Mac's, but - no surprise here - it was too big to fit. It was also a faux pas for a mare to wear a stallion's collar, apparently. Applejack couldn't see why, but at least this way she didn't have to button up the top of it and lace a tie around her neck.

“Even Mayor Mare can get away with just wearing the top part,” she continued, sighing. A picture of the gray-maned mare came and went, reminding Applejack of the downside. She stuck out her tongue in distaste. “Then again, she's got that frilly thing instead'a a tie. No thanks.”

“You should dress up more! I love my new delivery outfit!” Pinkie Pie did a little twirl on her next bounce, showing off her magenta full body suit, replete with white and blue frills and the Sugarcube Corner logo on each side. “I was thinking last night, wouldn't it be neat if I also had a bicycle, and then I could zip around town even faster!”

“Bicycle? Do ah even want to know what that is?”

“Sure! It's like a cart but with two wheels instead of four!”

“Sounds silly and dangerous. Two wheels? How'd that even work?” Applejack shook her head, trying to dispel some of the residual silliness that always came from being around Pinkie Pie. She had to focus her thoughts. “We're just about there. Okay, Applejack. Gotta get yer game face on.”

“But your face is already on!”

“...yes. I know.”

Right up ahead was her - their - destination: the Prance cottage styled Silver Stable Hotel. It was one of the town's oldest and nicest hotels, though not very large by the standards of a city like Canterlot, and certainly not Manehattan. It had been a coaching inn twenty years earlier before the daughter who inherited it modernized the place, keeping the outside the same but updating the amenities.

Entering under the old hanging sign proclaiming the 'famous Silver Stable in Ponyville,' Applejack and Pinkie Pie passed through a sleepy lobby thick with wall-to-wall pictures, autographs from famous patrons, and kitschy memorabilia. Their targets were at the back of the lounge, getting ready for the day. Flim and Flam were already out of bed and out of their rooms, chatting over a breakfast of sugar beets and minced bran. Every day, they opened the cider garden at eight sharp. This theoretically gave a small window of opportunity for Sweet Apple Acres to sell before they opened, except for the fact that it was a thirty minute walk from the farm to the town. In practice, even getting up two hours ahead of time to set things up hadn't helped much. Sales didn't pick up until afternoon.

“Howd-”

“HI!” Pinkie Pie chirped, springing away to land right next to the pair of thoroughly surprised unicorns. “Did somepony order a whooooole bunch of sticky buns? And carrot-raisin-walnut bread?”

“That would be me, Miss, if you could just stop - moving - around - quite - so - much!” Flam finally managed to pluck the box out of Pinkie's mane with green tinted magic. “There were go.”

“You and your sweet tooth, Flam.”

“Don't start on that, Flim. We have the exact same body type.”

“Yes, but then why is my blood pressure lower? Eat healthy foods for once.”

“Ugh! Health food!” Pinkie and Flam said in unison, and as one, the two ponies turned to each other. Then Flam pointed over to her. “See, brother o' mine? This mare knows the score.”

“Oh! That reminds me! I wanted to ask you guys!” Pinkie excitedly put her hooves on the table, glad to have their attention. “When you said traveling salesponies nonpareil, did you mean-”

“Ah, actually,” Applejack interrupted, prompting her friend to collapse onto the floor.

“Tell me what it meeaaans,” Pinkie groaned from the floor.

“Ah was wonderin' if I could have a couple minutes ah yer time?” The apple farmer continued, turning her head around to fish out a pair of clipboards from her saddlebags. She put both on the breakfast table. “Now, ah know we didn't exactly get off on the right hoof, but I got an idea here that I think you'll want'ta see.”

“What's this about, Miss Applejack?” Flam levitated the clipboard with a critical eye. At the same time, he munched on one of the cookies from the delivery box.

Flim, meanwhile, was already skimming the papers.

Applejack produced a copy of her own, pointing to one of the graphs on the first page. “Mah brother and I have been goin' over this here cider season, and we realized that with the both of us sellin' to Ponyville, we're actually over-saturatin' the market. We're makin' literally more cider than the ponies here can drink.”

It was a first for Ponyville, perpetually short of cider. For the first time anypony could remember, there was too much cider flooding the market. Projections were that six times as much cider as normal was being produced daily between Sweet Apple Acres and the Flim Flam Cider Garden. Aside from public citations for drunkenness increasing rather dramatically, it was also crushing cider prices and worse: wasting cider! Ponies were buying entire barrels and taking them home.

“Ya'll can see that accordin' to these here projections, we're both gonna run ourselves inta the ground goin' at this like we are,” Applejack explained, going over the points she had outlined and written up the night before (and then copied two times over by hoof).

Flim and Flam exchanged looks.

The brothers then noticed Pinkie Pie leaning against the table and nodding sagely. “Makes sense to me!” she declared.

“You don't understand a word'a this stuff, do ya, Pinkie?”

“Nope! Not even a little bit!”

“The numbers do trend that way,” Flim admitted, flipping one of the pages. “What do you think, Flam?”

“I think she's got a point, Flim,” Flam agreed, biting down on another sticky bun, moustache twitching in delight. “My stars, brother, these are good!”

“If we all agree that we can't keep at what we're doin' like this, then if ya'll don't mind, ah think I've got a solution!” Applejack quickly held up another paper, this one displaying a small map of Equestria. Ponyville was circled in red, along with several blue lines that radiated towards it with arrows pointing inwards.

“What we got here is, as far as Ah can figure, all the routes yer usin' ta import apples,” she said, pointing to the blue lines with a hoof. “Now, take a look at the routes. With just a little tweakin' ah think we could use these same trains ta' distribute all our extra cider. Both of us! If we work together, form some sorta Cider Consortium, then we could both of us make up our losses by selling in bulk.”

“Naturally,” she hastened to elaborate. “Since you fellas already have the trains and the cold cars, ah'm willing ‘ta let you be senior partners in this partnership. You can even have three-fourths of all profits AND Sweet Apple Acres will provide all the apples we need, just like ya wanted. We can make and sell both traditionally pressed and machine pressed cider!”

Flim and Flam exchanged looks; nervous looks.

“Canterlot is right around the corner and mah family's already got contacts there.” Applejack pointed to Equestria's capitol city, and then to one near the coast. “Manehattan is another good city. We got trains goin' right past it and there's bound ‘ta be plenty ah retail types out there lookin' ta buy. Ah've also looked inta sellin' ta Fillydelphia and Cloudsdale. Pegasi love cider but they can't grow any and have trouble storin' it up in the air for long periods of time. It's an untapped market!”

“But,” she concluded, hurrying to finish before the questions started up. “Ta make the most'a this we gotta work together! If ya'll check the last page there, you'll see that if we can maximize our distribution and actually sell all this cider we're makin' at premium prices outside Ponyville we can both come outta this in the green!”

“So what do ya say, boys?” Applejack put on her best smile, eager to hear from the two unicorn brothers. “Ya'll wanna make some serious bits or what?”

Pinkie Pie's riotous hoof-clapping drowned out any immediate response.

“WooOO!” She nudged Flam on the side and then did the same to Flim. “I didn't understand any of that! But a Cider Consortium sounds neat! Oh! We should call it ‘Omni-Cider Products’ or OCP for short! And we can have a party to celebrate!”

Disturbingly, Flim and Flam said nothing. Applejack gulped, waiting, as even Pinkie Pie's normally boundless enthusiasm started to fade. The two mares waited, and waited, as Flim and Flam checked and double checked the outlines and graphs Applejack had made for them. Inside were records and numbers for sales, projections, and estimates for expanding joint operations outside Ponyville compared to smaller individual efforts that would struggle from the competition. It was a case of either of them being too small individually. It made perfect sense to cooperate, even if it meant Sweet Apple Acres took a junior position with a smaller share of the profits.

“Brother!” Flam finally spoke, tearing his eyes from the documents now held in shaking hooves. “This - this could work, Flim!”

“I know, Flam,” Flim didn't sound enthusiastic. He sounded almost afraid.

“What in Tartarus are we going to do?!” Flam started to panic. “Oh, sweet Celestia and Luna! What are we-”

Quiet. Flam.” Flim winced, carefully putting down the papers held in his magical field. “Just be quiet.”

“But according to this, we'd be making more bits working with-” Flam was mid-sentence when his voice gave out with an inaudible gasp. It was as if he had suddenly been put on mute.

Applejack noticed it with some worry. “Uh, is he okay?”

“Perfectly fine!” Flim replied, a forced grin in place. “Aren't you, Flam? Perfectly fine?”

The stallion cleared his throat. “I'm just... fine, Flim. Nothing wrong with me at all.”

Flim gave his brother a glare that seemed to say, 'Good. Now shut the hell up.'

“I'm sorry, Miss Applejack,” the clean-shaven brother continued, floating over the clipboard. “We can't cooperate with you in this.”

“But!” Applejack turned from one to the others, agape. “But! Look at the numbers! Did you find a mistake? Were we wrong about something? Is that it?”

Flim closed his eyes, almost regretful, shaking his head in the negative.

“No,” he replied, with a bit of effort. “You're right. This is a good deal, and... and it would have been nice to accept it. But we can't.”

“Why the hay not?!” Applejack very nearly yelled, only barely restraining herself from upsetting the other ponies in the hotel lobby and lounge. “Of course ya can!”

“No,” Flim insisted, frowning at her and pressing his hooves flat against the table. “We can't. It just isn't possible for us to agree to this. Do you understand me?”

“I thought I did!” Applejack growled, stuffing her copy of the papers back into her bags. “I thought ya'll were businessponies. I thought you cared about sellin' yer cider ta ponies. Ah thought ya liked seeing how cider could make ponies happy. But Ah guess Ah I was wrong!”

“I'm sorry-” Flim offered her the clipboards again.

“Ya'll keep em. Just in case ya come to yer senses!” She turned to leave, firing one last parting shot their way. “Ah just hope fer both our sakes ya don't take too long.”

The apple farmer held her head high as she left the hotel. Inside, where nopony could see, she was crushed. This proposal had been the end result of all her work, even getting Big Macintosh to help with the math, and all her hopes to find some sort of compromise that would save Sweet Apple Acres. She had been so confident... so sure...

Pinkie Pie followed close behind her, looking back at the two unicorns, but not with anger.

“They were unhappy,” she muttered, but Applejack barely heard her.

“What?” she asked, and by then they were back outside.

“They were unhappy. They didn't want to say no,” Pinkie Pie said, and their unhappiness became hers. Her smile became a thoughtful line, slightly down-turned.

“Yeah, well they did,” Applejack growled.

- - -

“Twilight? Twilight? Oh, hello there, Owloysius, you wouldn't happen to know where-”

A large pair of eyes stared back from the ground-floor library window.

“On second thought, I'd best keep that question to myself.”

Rarity had spent enough time at or around the Ponyville library to know when to end certain lines of questioning, so long as those questions were posed to the resident night owl. Owloysius leaned forward just a bit from her perch on the window sill, waiting for the moment to answer any question with a predictable question of her own. Rarity knocked one last time, silently wishing Spike had come back from his personal dragon quest with them. The sweet little guy never failed to answer the door or wake Twilight up as necessary.

“Maybe she isn't even in?” Rarity wondered aloud with a soft sigh. Quickly, she pointed to the waiting owl. “No need to respond, I was merely being facetious.”

“Who?”

“You know who. Me.”

“Who?”

“…”

Biting her lip, Rarity sucked in a deep breath and turned around, fighting the urge to exchange words with the obstinate avian. Owloysius could go on for hours, though Pinkie Pie had once said she was a much better conversationalist than Gummy, a fact that clearly said something about either Owloysius, or Gummy, or mostly just Pinkie Pie.

Rarity reminded herself not to get side tracked. There were some important matters that she and Twilight needed to discuss, or, to be more precise, there were some things Rarity needed her friend's expert input on. Most important of all was the matter of Sweet Apple Acres.

Applejack had insisted that she not need any 'government assistance' even if it came from a friend who just happened to be the new local nobility, but luckily, Macintosh had not been so cavalier about the future of the farm. He was at least willing to consider outside help. Applejack really was too stiff-necked sometimes! Too stiff-necked even for her own good.

“Oh dear. She isn't in?” The question came from the magnificent brass and lacquer carriage waiting by the road. A pink coated older mare with a snow white mane had rolled down one of the windows. Like Rarity, she wore a fascinator for a hat, but hers was pearl white instead of crimson.

“It seems not,” Rarity replied, walking closer so she didn't have to raise her voice to be heard. “I am terribly sorry, Patent. If I had known, I would not have dragged you along out here.”

“Oh, I don't mind!” Patent Pending assured her. “I've been meaning to get back to my research anyway. This doesn't change anything, though, does it? I do so hope Sweetie Belle and your Ladyship can join my little Diamond and me in Canterlot next week.”

Rarity shook her head, noticing the top of Diamond Tiara's head as the filly jumped up to also look out the carriage window. “It would be a pleasure. I'm sure we can have quite the excursion with Fleur and the others.”

Quite the costly excursion, perhaps.

It was a little hypocritical, as a fashion designer herself - a former designer anyway - to criticize the ponies who purchased a certain sort of fare, but the 'Canterlot party' Patent Pending had in mind was really just an excuse to spend un-Princessly amounts of bits on jewelry and clothes. At one point, her designs could have been among those on sale at one of Hoity's galleries, but the prices she knew he charged were scandalous. She had already calculated that the trip would set her back by at least five thousand bits.

The irony came from the fact that she had agreed to go on the trip, spending money, in order to raise money. A pony in her position couldn't simply ask for it. It had to be garnered by in turn raising the esteem of those around her. By being seen shopping with Equestria's newest Baroness and by being introduced to her friends in Canterlot, Patent Pending and the Rich Family would gain new contacts and prestige.

'You're a noble now, Rarity,' Blueblood had told her once, in passing. 'Your celebrity is an asset. Use it.'

And in return...

“By the way, should I assure my husband that we are moving forward on that other bit of business?” Patent asked with a small, knowing grin. She may have been an inventor at heart, but she had been married to Filthy Rich long enough to know the game the mercantile upper classes played with the aristocracy.

“Please do,” Rarity said, false smile well and plastered across her face.

“How wonderful!” Patent Pending patted her hoof on her daughter's purple and white mane, much to Diamond Tiara's annoyance. “Little Diamond here is so excited to spend time with her new friend! Isn't it adorable?”

“I'm positively ecstatic,” the pink filly grumbled. “Can't we also bring Silver Spoon and her mom, too?” At her mother's frown, she quickly added, “I mean, ahh, we both want to spend lots of time shopping with Sweetie Belle. Our good friend. In Canterlot.”

“We'll see,” Patent Pending promised. “And we shall be in touch, Lady Rarity.”

“Yeah, bye,” Diamond Tiara disappeared back into the carriage, but not before complaining a little too loudly, “I can't believe you're sticking me with that blank flank for an entire afternoon...!”

Her comment was followed by a rather stifled little muffle.

Rarity breathed a sigh of relief at the carriage started up, the two Rich family ladies ensconced inside and rapidly removing themselves from the newly titled noblemare's presence. Patent Pending was not a bad sort of mare, really, though she loved to drone on about herself much more than was healthy. Diamond Tiara, however, was an insufferable brat of the worst order.

Some excuse would have to be made to get Sweetie Belle out of the trip. It didn't take a nosy older sister to pick up on the fact that Sweetie wasn't very fond of Diamond Tiara or Silver Spoon. The well-to-do fillies came up in conversation at least once a week as a source of seemingly unending and relentless aggravation and harassment at school. What Rarity had herself seen during her brief schoolyard appearance as 'Dewdrop Dazzle' had only reinforced her views on the subject.

Then again, if it was three against two during the trip...

She began to imagine the chaos that would be Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo and Apple Bloom around thousands of bits of expensive merchandise in Canterlot's finest shops and boutiques and showrooms. It would be like three pint-sized bulls in a china shop! A scene like that could be worth the admittedly high price of admission.

The humorous thought was dispersed by the unmistakable sound of a commotion nearby, towards the center of town. This being Ponyville, a disturbance and the resultant crowd could be caused by just about anything: a half-price asparagus sale, or maybe a rampaging dragon, or even a particularly adorable stray dog. It was just Ponyville being Ponyville. Nopony was fleeing en masse yet, though, so it was probably more amusing than threatening, as far as commotions went.

Curious, Rarity approached.

She also heard the swoop of wings and the soft hoof-fall of a pegasus landing nearby. It wasn't startling; though she did not know his name, she had seen this pony before, perched on one rooftop or another, following her in his elaborate steel cuirass, culet and burgonet helmet. If he was landing now, keeping this close to her, then whatever was going on up ahead was security related. Rarity briefly closed her eyes and resisted the urge to let out an un-ladylike groan. Of all possible things, she had hoped it wouldn't be that kind of problem up ahead.

“Baroness,” the free company pegasus spoke, keeping close to her.

“What sort of trouble is it this time?” Rarity inquired, letting him move ahead a bit to help clear a path for the newly titled mare. Already, she could hear voices: stallions’ voices.

“...this is an outrage! Germoglio! You unscrupulous cutpurse! We are Her Majesty's Guards and shall be treated with due respect!”

“Corazza. With all due respect, this is not Canterlot. The Prince and Baroness have given us jurisdiction to see to the peace and you must submit to-”

“Germoglio?” Rarity didn't hesitate to intervene, emerging from the crowd of curious and gawking onlookers. She could see the Bitalian condottiero and two of his fellows in resplendent steel cuirasses, frilly white jerkins and sleeves, gilded berets perched on their heads behind their horns. Of the trio of well-dressed free company unicorns, only Germoglio Bianco himself wore the gold and ivory sash that was his ceremonial badge of office. Seeing them, Rarity had to guiltily admit that part of her reason for keeping the mercenaries on her payroll was how well they dressed on the job.

It was well enough providing security, but to do it in style? How could a mare resist?

Opposite the trio of Compagnia unicorns were three similarly splendid stallions in royal guard attire, awash with contoured solar gold. Brilliant blue pony-hair frills flared from their polished helmets, their cropped tails whipping left and right in agitation. Theirs was a much older though no less impressive uniform, still very much grounded in the pegasus traditions from which the Royal Guard originally sprang.

The exception was the guard in the center. He was a unicorn, tall and solidly built, very likely a guard himself, but not in armor. Instead, he wore the same sort of crimson dolman so popular among those in certain military circles - or those who had purchased their way into a commission in those circles. She remembered when she first seen Antimony's guard, Gewitter, in one, when the pair had first come to her boutique. How long ago had that been? Since then, so much had changed in so little time…

This stallion wore his dolman better than Gewitter did, which only made sense as it was intended for stallions and not mares, no matter how brutish and large they were. She knew the style to be itself rooted in the Free Company tradition, spreading from the rowdy hussars of the past to ingratiate itself into the nobility of the present. Blueblood had one as well, those he wore it with a particularly ornate pelisse, ostentatious but bereft of any medals or other pretentious accoutrements. To contrast Germoglio's own white and gold sash, this stranger wore one of midnight blue, a shade darker than his own azure mane.

“Lady Rarity,” the Captain of her mercenary guard bowed his head in respect at her approach. “The Company apologizes for the disturbance.”

“What is the matter here?” Rarity asked, catching herself to keep from asking 'may I ask.' She was Baroness. This was a matter under her direct purview, as strange as it all still was to her. “Who are these gentleponies? They appear to be from our Prince's Royal Household.”

“That is correct, my Lady,” Germoglio responded, inclining his head to give the three a chance to introduce themselves.

“Baroness,” the stallion in the dolman said, motioning to his left and right companions first. “I would introduce Sir Arrow Head and Sir Gale Force. I am Sir Shining Armor, a Captain of Her Majesty's Guard. We are at your service, but must unfortunately protest our treatment at the hands of your condottieri.”

Rarity smiled at hearing the name but covered her pleasure with a respectful dip of her head. This was Shining Armor, Twilight Sparkle's brother? To be honest, she had imagined him to be more... purple. She made a mental note to tease Twilight about how handsome her brother was sometime. He even had that wonderful Canterlot unicorn build to him! Still, there was the pressing matter of just what was the problem. It wasn't just two Captains of two different guard companies butting heads, she hoped.

Now, she used the polite interrogative.

“A pleasure, Sir, but may I ask what you protest, specifically?”

“Our companions have been asked to submit to a search,” Shining Armor explained, huffing in displeasure and stamping a hoof against the cobblestone road. “They are my subordinates, they are gentleponies both, knights of the realm, and honored members of the second regiment of the Royal Life Guard. I will not stand by and see their honor questioned by coin-purse soldiers of fortune.”

“You are not the only knight present, Sir,” Germoglio objected, also scratching the cobblestone with his hoof. He didn't feel the need to attach any sort of warning or threat to the statement.

“Boys,” Rarity admonished, waving a hoof between them. “Both of you, please, calm down.”

The two guard Captains turned to stare at her, identical looks of scandal on their faces at being called 'boys.' It wasn't as bad as being called colts, she had warmed it up with an affectionate tone, but it was still a public rebuke. Rarity looked from one to the other, her eyes narrowed slightly. Despite having gone out plain - without even saddlebags - and with no finery of her own except her fabulous new hat, all present knew her title and who she was. Rarity felt a small, heady thrill at that fact.

“Yes,” Germoglio agreed, lowering his eyes slightly.

“Mmm,” Shining Armor muttered.

“Now then, Germoglio,” Rarity asked, “what was the meaning for this search?”

She still had difficulty wrapping her head around just how seriously and even intimately these knightly and noble types took their honor. Oh, she had thought she had known enough from reading her courtly romances, but the last few months had shown her the darker and less agreeable side of ‘noble behavior.’ It didn't even matter what sort of search the two guards had been asked to submit to. That they had been asked to submit to anything was insulting in their eyes and in the eyes of their guard captain. It would have been entertaining if it didn’t also cause so much trouble.

“By your orders, Baroness, we have been watching the perimeter of Ponyville,” Germoglio carefully explained, his eyes drifting lazily to the watching and listening crowd of ponies gathered in a wide circle around them. Rarity had asked the Free Company to monitor the ponies coming and going from Ponyville. She had very little information on the various potentially troublesome mares she expected to try and upset the peace in the town or even the upcoming art festival. The exact details of her requests, however, did not need repeating in public.

“When these three crossed our wards along the road to Canterlot, they only registered as a single pony.” The Bitalian captain turned his attention to the royal guards. “If they were making an attempt to mask their entrance to the town, then that is, in my eyes, suspicious.”

“Is that true?” Rarity asked in a sweet, amiable tone. Years of working at her boutique had taught her to treat even difficult customers with courtesy bordering on friendliness. Everypony was more malleable when spoken to nicely by a pretty mare.

“Of course not,” Shining Armor objected, not to her, but to his Bitalian counterpart. “Why would we mask our presence? We did not sneak into the town like common thieves or skulking bandits!”

Like their Captain, the two pegasus guards were glaring angrily at the local condottieri. A glare that turned, for just a moment, on their Captain.

“Our wards tell a different tale.”

“Your wards were likely improperly constructed or laid down.”

“You insult us again, Sir Corazza.”

“Maybe I do, Sir Bianco!”

“Germoglio,” Rarity interrupted again, feigning a measure of confusion and innocence. It was partly genuine. Wards were not a spell she understood very well. “What could have caused one of your sensory wards to read only Sir Shining Armor and not his companions? It makes little sense to me that two of them would attempt to sneak in while the third does not.”

The esteemed Condottiero and Company Captain cooled down to consider her question, and her observations. He raised a well-manicured hoof to his chin as he thought.

“You speak wisely, your Ladyship,” he mused. “I was only told that we detected three new arrivals, of which two attempted to mask themselves.”

“With magic?” Rarity asked.

“Yes. With either invisibility or some other type of illusion spell,” he explained. “Fog. A mirage. A muffle spell. There are any number of things that can be used to aid in stealth or concealment.”

“And how many of those are pegasi capable of?”

“Far fewer,” Germoglio told her, eyeing the pair of pegasus royal guards. “However, a unicorn could easily cast such magics on them.”

The pair exchanged a quick glance.

“I must confess, Captain Shining Armor,” one of them said, sounding suitably contrite. “Gale Force and myself did receive an enchantment from one of the guard unicorns two days ago.”

“You did?” Shining Armor turned on the two, confused. He narrowed his eyes and lit up his horn for a moment. “Strange. I don't... sense anything on you.”

“It was a Night Guard enchantment, sir,” Arrow Head explained.

That seemed to at least partly mollify both guard Captains.

“It that so?” Shining Armor seemed to consider asking more but winced and shook his head. Rarity, watching closely, could've sworn she saw a faint green glow behind his blue eyes. A magic detection spell that he was dismissing, maybe?

“Nonetheless,” Armor continued, turning to face Rarity. “I must insist that my subordinates not be searched. While I apologize personally for this accidental deception, these two are still esteemed guards of Equestria’s Royal Household. They are not to be dishonored in this fashion.”

“My Lady,” Germoglio warned. “At least let us...”

“They are my Prince's guards,” Rarity said, blushing as the three stallions bowed in gratitude, Shining Armor planting a kiss on her hoof. “We should avoid any incidents among those we count as friends and allies, shouldn't we?”

Germoglio Bianco's face set into a frown, but he nodded in deference. “As My Lady wishes. We shall make exception this time.”

She graced him with a thankful smile. “Thank you, Germoglio. Please keep up the good work.”

The soldier of fortune grunted, and he and his two subordinates vanished in a flash. Like the pegasus watching over her from the rooftops, they were only out of sight, not really gone. Despite this, their disappearing act had the intended effect of convincing the crown of townsponies that whatever sort of crazy incident had occurred was effectively over. They began to disperse, more than a few muttering about being cheated out of seeing a fight or two.

“My gratitude for your generosity, Baroness,” Shining Armor thanked her again, releasing her hoof.

“Just Rarity is perfectly fine, Sir Shining Armor,” she replied, for once unable to completely banish her blush. He was a charming stallion, this brother of Twilight's.

“Please call me Shining, then,” he said with a friendly grin. “Actually, if I could impose on you for another favor?”

Rarity had been expecting a similar introduction from the two pegasi, especially since they had been the source of the whole confrontation, but they hung back, watching, waiting. At first, Rarity thought they were watching her. It gradually dawned on her that there was every possibility they were watching someone else instead. Shining Armor. Was it possible that his own guards were...?

No. No. Rarity tried not to let those sorts of paranoid thoughts fester. It was enough to imagine there were mares out in Equestria after her blood despite having never met her. Royal guards in armor were notoriously stoic and reticent after all. It was all very much a part of their mythos and identity as Royal Guards. That was all.

“A favor?” she asked.

“Yes,” Shining replied, looking downright bashful for a moment. “My sister. I really need to talk to her. You wouldn't know where Twilight is, would you? She wasn't at the library last night.”

“I was actually looking for her myself. As for her location, if I had to guess,” Rarity said, turning down a familiar road outside town; a road that ended at a manor estate outside town.

- - -

Pinkie Pie loved Sugarcube Corner. She loved it just like she loved a moist sticky bun sprinkled with cinnamon and raisins and brown sugar, left on her dresser as a surprise after a long day's work. She loved it like she loved the way Gummy would always lurk someplace new and unexpected, bouncing out to clamp into her hoof while she rooted around for his latest hiding spot. She loved it the way she loved foalsitting the Cake twins and how even a little giggle from them could make all the diaper changing and panic worth the effort. She loved it because it was an intrinsic part of her being, her life, and her imagination.

Just the smell of sweets in the air made her want to smile! It was just too bad she was already smiling! Pinkie Pie tried, but she hadn't yet trained up her cheek muscles to handle maximum smilage for more than a few minutes. What to do?

A soft mutter proved to be the answer; it was enough to dampen the party pony's spirits, which in turn was her chance to tap into the happiness of being around Sugarcube Corner, allowing her to keep her smile at peak wattage. Now if only she could translate her good feelings into her not-melancholy but not-happy friend.

Things would have been soooo much easier if Applejack had been sad.

Pinkie knew how to handle sad. Angry was a lot trickier. Applejack wasn't the type to sulk, like Rainbow Dash, or fly off into a panic, like Rarity, or go completely off the deep end like a certain librarian. No. Angry!Applejack got quiet, like a stove with a broken pilot light, slowly filling up with explosive energy. In that sort of state, she never wanted to talk, not until she had worked things out with herself first.

“If'n those two idiots-”

“Make em eat crabapples, those-”

“No no no, that wouldn't work...”

“You know, Applejack, a pony once told me I shouldn't talk to myself, can you believe that?” Pinkie asked, bouncing in reverse to she could face her friend and still head home at the same time. “He was all, like, it isn't really healthy to carry on conversations with potted plants and bags of flour, and I told him that he was being totally rude, since the plant and the flour were right there, and that the least he could do is excuse ourselves or something! Especially since we were on a double date and-”

“Huh? What?” Applejack finally snapped out of her stupor, eyes blinking in momentary confusion. “What was that, sugarcube?”

“Nothing!” Pinkie lazily bounced back to Applejack's side, slowing her normal pace to a basic, happy trot.

“Ah zoned out for a second there, didn't I?” The apple farmer sighed, lowering her head with a wry shake of her mane. Not for the first time she reached up for her hat only to find it missing.

“This has just been the perfect end to a real ringer of a week, Pinkie,” she continued, last real grief over the situation and into embarrassment and frustration. “Ah honestly don't know what Ah'm gonna do now. Ah bet Granny's gonna suggest takin' out a loan, but Sweet Apple Acres has been ours lock, stock and barrel for generations! And here Ah go and buck over the crate just a couple years into the job! Con-sarn-it!!”

She scuffed a clod of dirt out of the road and turned to Pinkie Pie.

“No offense, sugarcube, but after a quick bite or two Ah'll have to head back to the farm.”

“No problem!” Pinkie Pie replied, not really understanding much from the business side of things, but more than happy to be supportive. She was sure Applejack would figure something out with a bit more time. She was really smart, just like Mister Cake, and she had the patience to go through all those little numbers and make them all add up and stuff.

Applejack nodded at her friend's infectious smile, and together with a deep breath, she perked up and started to cautiously grin in return. Pinkie could already see her friend starting to bounce back from Flim and Flam's rejection of her business plan. Soon she would be back to her usual self.

But - but the fact that Flim and Flam had turned down the plan itself was still kind of bothering the pink pony. Pokey was fond of pointing out that she couldn't balance a book to save her life, a fact that Pinkie usually countered by balancing a book on her head and nose at the same time - balance was super easy! What balancing books had to do with money, though, Pinkie couldn't imagine. It all sounded so silly!

The point was – wait, what was her point again?

Something to do with balancing things?

Oh, that was it! Flim and Flam. There had definitely, super definitely, been something funny going on with them. Pinkie had seen plenty of the two brothers in the process of becoming one of their Double-Gold Rewards Club members (and in the process drinking herself silly… or sillier). They were a lot like Mister Cake, or so she had thought. He loved to bake and see how happy his food made his customers, but he also liked to, in his own words, keep his business solvent. Which was weird. A business wasn't a liquid.

Pinkie shook her head. Focus!

Maybe it was a stallions thing, now that she thought more about it. Pokey was like that, too! Except he always went on about his 'nest egg.' How could Pokey have a nest egg? He wasn't a bird! Stallions didn't lay eggs! Did they? No. Almost certainly not.

“I'll ask Twilight later...”

“What was that?” Applejack asked, one eyebrow elevated.

Pinkie gave her friend a serious, intense look. “Applejack. Stallions don't lay eggs, do they?”

“WHAT?! NO!”

“Are you suuuurre?” Pinkie zipped up, face to face with the other earth pony. “Big Mac's never built a nest for eggs? Not even for Easter?”

Applejack blinked, supremely confounded by the very nature of the question.

“No,” she concluded.

“Hmm.” Pinkie went back to her happy trot, skeptical but just a little further enlightened. No. Stallions probably didn't lay eggs, at least not where their sisters could find out about it. It would be pretty embarrassing, wouldn't it? Big Mac's would totally be big and red and orange and speckled! The pink pony couldn't help but giggle to herself.

“Beyond random,” Applejack muttered.

Anyway. The mysteries of the 'nest egg' could wait. It definitely required money, though. At least Pokey's one did. Stallions liked to have bits, probably because they liked to spend bits on mares. Yes! That made sense. Pokey always paid for them when they went somewhere, and so did most of the other stallions she went to parties with. Bluey spent tons of bits on Rarity and Mister Cake always got flowers and other presents for Mrs. Cake. That would all explain why they like to make bits and why Mister Cake did that eye-twitchy-thing whenever she ate inventory or fiddled with the building's heater.

It was like a male Pinkie Sense. A money-sense!

But then why did Applejack have it? And Rarity, too? So strange.

“What was I thinking about again?” Pinkie wondered aloud, eyes lighting up as she saw Sugarcube Corner up ahead. “Oh yeah! The new Chocolate Chip Brioche! I can't wait to have one! Hurry up!”

“Right behind ya.” Applejack followed at a much more sedate pace and Pinkie heard her words as she bounded through the fuchsia colored door of her home and workplace. It was a deceptively large building: something about the delicious chocolate colored roofing with rocky road shingles and white frosting eaves, or the creamy white chocolate colored walls or candy cane rafters and trusses and pillars and gum-drop window panes and - and -

Flying behind the counter, Pinkie Pie popped a brioche into her mouth with a blissful moan. Super tasty!

“Pinkie Pie!” Cup Cake objected, pouting as Pinkie slowly emerged from behind the all concealing darkness that came from rows of chocolate and oatmeal cookies.

“Sorry, Mrs. Cake! Thinking about architecture makes me sooo hungry!”

“It does?” The older mare did what so many ponies ended up doing in her presence: blinking in momentary confusion. Pinkie suspected she should have gotten used to it by now. “Of course it does,” she realized, “and how did the deliveries go?”

“They also made me hungry, but-” Pinkie jumped up to pull a waiting string, releasing a burst of confetti and a banner that read: MISSION ACCOMPLISHED

She then gave a thumb-up.

Tried to give a thumbs-up, anyway; it was the thought that counted.

“You!” Applejack's voice brought the celebration to a stop before it even got to the twenty one gun salute. More than a few customers had already started ducking their ears or putting on helmets in expectation of what was to come. They just knew her so well!

“Miss Applejack,” a distinct and foreign voice returned the greeting.

“Oh! Hey!” Pinkie jumped across the store to where her friend was making and meeting other friends! In the blink of an eye she was in the middle of it, hopping up and down. “I didn't know you guys finally got out of the hospital!”

Opposite Applejack, her three Neighponese friends were looking hale and hearty. Evening Squall greeted her with a smile and a little wave, horn glowing softly to return an almost completely devoured cupcake to his table. Even though he had been the pony Pinkie had fought at the party-de-arms (or whatever it was called), thanks to his silly armor she hadn't actually gotten much of a look at him before visiting them all at the hospital afterwards.

Without their funny masks and flags, they were pretty normal looking ponies. Squalls had a cream coat, faintly bluish white, and a spiky red two-tone mane and darker-red eyes. Maybe it was because he was a unicorn, he didn't quite have the same sort of oval eye shape that the other Neighponese ponies had. Dewy, the pony Applejack had beaten in the duel, had the same color mane that she had, but with a brown coat and copper eyes. Both stallions greeted Pinkie with happy smiles, though it had taken longer than most to get poor Squalls to stop asking how she had escaped his barrier bubbles.

Like she even knew it herself! These things just sort of happened.

“You two idiots!” The only mare of the group bulled into the unicorn and earth pony, shaking them with her wings. “A couple bento boxes of sweets and you're fawning over her like drooling schoolcolts! What kind of retainers are you?!”

“B-but she makes really good green tea yokan!”

“And her sesame anpan is incredible...”

“She gives you food and you forget that she's our enemy?! You should be ashamed of yourselves! What would Yumi-hime think if she saw you now?”

Sadly, Cool Breeze, both the lone mare and only pegasus among her comrades, had yet to come over to the Pink Side of The Force, despite more than a little outreach on the part of Ponyville's premier party planner. Releasing her two fellow retainers, the teal colored pegasus stalked over to Pinkie until she filled the earth pony's vision, angry yellow eyes locked on Pinkie’s blue.

“Don't think I don't know what you're doing!” she snarled, roughly poking the Element of Laughter with a hoof. “I see right through you.”

Pinkie gasped. “You mean I'm invisible?! That's so cool! I didn't know I was invisible? How come nopony told me? Oh! Maybe nopony even noticed? I never saw another invisible pony before, but then if I did, then I guess they wouldn't be invisible! Invisible ponies could be all around us and I never noticed! I need to find out who they are so I can plan parties for them!”

“There you go again!” Cool Breeze growled, punctuating her words with a press of her hoof. “You always act dumb! Like a harmless idiot!”

Pinkie cocked her head to the side. “Acting?”

“Harmless?” Applejack drolly interrupted, pushing the pegasus away from her fellow Element of Harmony. “Hey, hooves to yourself, sugarcube.”

Cool Breeze snarled again, but a cough from the older blue coated earth pony among them prompted an immediate, almost panicked response. A single motion of her wings carried her away to sulk over a cup of tea, her back to the whole affair. Pinkie's grin never left her lips, even in the face of an irate pegasus. Cool Breeze would come around eventually! She just needed another party to cheer up. The last one at the hospital didn't seem to stick.

“Ser Pinkie Pie,” the blue earth pony continued, hoof lowering from his mouth post-cough. He was a little larger than the other neighponese stallions, and clearly older, with a gray mane and calm azure eyes. Two rough scars ran over his cheeks on either side of his face, almost from his neck to his nose. It took a moment to piece together who he was.

“Mister Antlers!” she gasped, pointing in his direction. “Hi again!”

“My name isn't Mister Antlers,” he replied, turning his gaze from Pinkie to Applejack and back. “Shigure. My name is Shigure. Late Rains is also fine.”

“But you had that cool mask with the antlers!” Pinkie Pie insisted with a wide grin. “Antlers is really funny to say, too! Ant-lers!”

“Ah'm actually glad we ran into y'all,” Applejack slipped into the conversation again, green eyes twinkling even as they narrowed. “Cause Ah still want mah hat back.”

“Miss Applejack,” White Dew warned. “Master Shigure, please forgive-”

The pale blue, foreign earth pony held up a hoof for silence.

“I don't mind, Shiratsuyu,” he said, unconcerned. “I have been told you are gendarmes, now, Ser Pinkie Pie. Ser Applejack. I have also heard much about your visits and your kindness towards my defeated students and subordinates. I was unable to see them during their long... convalescence, but it is heartening to know they were embraced so warmly by those who humbled them. You do yourselves great honor.”

Behind the stallions, Cool Breeze snorted in abject disgust. Rarity had made a token visit to the beaten neighponese pegasus, but it had not gone very smoothly. Pinkie remembered what Cool Breeze had suggested Rarity do at the time and she was still pretty sure that it was physically impossible. Also gross. Horns don't go in there!

“If'n we did ourselves great honor, then I figure Ah've got another chance to get mah hat back!” Applejack spared a moment to softly consider, “All'a this began with losin' mah pappy's lucky hat. If Ah get it back...”

“I suppose I could return it, as thanks,” Shigure considered.

“Awww! But that'd be so boring!” Another pony bounced over, appearing out of nowhere - a wild mane of electric blue, a toothy grin, and a blush-white coat. A hoof planted itself firmly on top of Shigure's head, to the stallion's well veiled vexation. The newcomer was a unicorn, and a small pink tongue darted out to lick her lips as she craned her neck to turn her eyes on Applejack.

“Heeeey,” she drawled, ever grinning. “Applejack, right? Do you really want him to just hoof over your hat? I would've thought you'd want to earn it back?” Her right hoof left the back of Shigure's head to cup her chin. “Then again, this is a lot easier, and what kind of pony objects to a hoof-out? Free stuff is free stuff, right?”

“Heck no ah don't want a hoof-out!” Applejack snapped, only considering it for a second or two.

Pinkie Pie, a little slow on the uptake this once, pointed to the new pony. “Hi there! I haven't seen you around before!”

“I'm new in town!” The unicorn announced, giggling. Without any sort of clothes on, it was easy to steal a peek at her cutie mark: one half of a smiling face, one eye closed in laughter. She stuck out a hoof in greeting. “I'm Euporie!”

“I'm Pinkie Pie!” Pinkie bopped hooves with her.

“Nice to meet you, Pinkie Pie! And you, too, Applejack!” Euporie extended her hoof to the apple farmer, who was a little more reluctant to return the sudden greeting.

“Nice... to meet ya?” she replied, cautious. “I guess? You a friend of these ponies?”

“Just Master Shigure here!” Euporie bounced back to rustle the older stallion's gray mane.

“We just call him Antlers!” Pinkie said with a giggle.

“Antlers? That's good! Antlers!” Euporie shamelessly nuzzled the grizzled Neighponese retainer. “I'll call you Antlers from now on!”

Shigure's impassive expression strained, but didn't betray itself.

“But like I said,” Euporie continued, extraditing herself from the rather public embrace of the stallion. By now, everypony in Sugarcube Corner was either eyeing the group openly or while subtly pretending to eat. “The honorable thing is to earn that hat back, right? Antlers told me about how you lost it, Applejack. I can just call you Applejack, right?”

“Uh...” Still more than a little uncomfortable with her recent gendarme status, Applejack nodded slowly. “Ah guess...”

“How about a little contest?” The grinning unicorn suggested, seeming to give it a moment or two of deep thought. “Hmmm! Something fair. Hey! I've got it! You didn't have much luck fighting Antlers here before, so how about you just try and move him a little?”

“Move him a little?” Applejack asked, sounding partly sold on the idea. “What do'ya mean exactly?”

Pinkie noticed that Dewy and Squalls were both looking a bit sheepish, their expressions tight and discomforted. Probably because Antlers’ marefriend was around! That had to be kind of awkward! Even Cool Breeze was watching, carefully, over her shoulder. None of them looked like they were willing to talk, but then Breeze smirked, hiding it a moment later behind her cup of tea.

Too slow. Pinkie had still seen it. It was a mean sort of smirk, too, just like the kind Gilda used. That one definitely didn't have a lot of Pink Side points under her belt. At this rate it would be years before she unlocked the pink lightning or party storm techniques.

“Um,” Dewy tried to speak up, but the cheerful blue-maned unicorn glanced back at the trio.

“Something you wanted to say?” she asked, pleasantly.

“Y-Yumi-hime didn't want us to... by which I mean, Miss Applejack here is...”

“She's?” Euporie asked, still smiling wide enough to show teeth, “what, exactly?” White Dew turned his eyes down, muttering nothing intelligible.

“Good!” the bubbly unicorn turned back to Applejack. “As I was saying, this is super easy! No rules! I hate rules, don’t you? I'll just pick a spot outside, and all you have to do is move Antlers here an inch or two from that spot. You can push him, or kick him, or tickle him or trick him or whatever! You'll have eight tries. That sounds fair, doesn't it?”

Pinkie felt a twitch in her left elbow. What did that mean again?

“You're on!” Applejack cheered, patting her saddlebags and smirking. “This time, Ah'll even the score!”