The minotaur armour loomed above Chamor as he entered and locked the office door. He paused. The suit drew a thin smile from the dower donkey, bringing back exciting, if not happy, memories from his youth.
With his banking tasks for the day complete, he wanted to work on his special project. As he walked to his desk, the golems waited patiently for instructions. He ordered, “Fetch the following Ponyville files: Alex Jean-Paul Roberts, Rainbow Marigold Dash, Scootaloo.” The little automatons obeyed, and by the time he reached his seat, the file folders were lying perfectly arranged in the center of the green felt desk blotter, ready for reading.
The Roberts file alone was thick, almost three centimetres, and it contained everything there was to know or could be surmised about that chaos beast. He had not yet been able to get the third edition of the work by Lyra Heartstrings, but the two previous editions had provided much useful information. Oh yes, it had taken some work to discover the mysterious writer, but being at the bank, he could trace the financial trail that Heartstrings and Coins had left behind. All quite legal, but hidden through multiple shell companies, hidden to any but the most skilled accountants, and Chamor prided himself on his accounting skill.
Chamor started to read, quickly flipping to the pertinent sections. He frowned. He was at a dead end. Roberts was as clean as Celestia. Everything he did was above board. There wasn’t so much as a missing period. In the past, agents of chaos were always sloppy, at least by his standards. Not this time.
Sweetheart had shown him the paperwork. It was clean. But what about the original in Fillydelphia? He didn’t have standing, so getting the original was out of the question, at least not through proper channels.
Rainbow Dash was nowhere near as clean, but nothing showed she had influenced the case. She didn’t have the smarts.
Scootaloo? No. She’s a child.
That Summer Blossom whelp? No, too new.
Celestia? No. Not her style.
Luna? Maybe, but there was no evidence.
That left Sweetheart.
“Alright! Now that our new friend has gone for the night—” Dash, Scootaloo, and Summer all had skeptical expressions, but I continued, ”How do stir-fried hay and veggies sound for supper? With a side of chicken strips?”
Dash cracked a smile, “Sounds good to me. But you can keep your chicken.”
Scootaloo had an expression of curiosity. “I don’t know, Mom. I hear it tastes like mushroom or tofu. Would it be safe for me to try some?”
Dash grew worried, “I don’t know, squirt. It should be safe. I mean, we can eat fish, why not chicken?”
I shrugged, “Don’t see why not. Summer? Can you think of a reason not to let her try some?”
Summer grew thoughtful, “Me no see problem. Maybe make her more like me?” She laughed at the thought. “Yes, little sister. You should.”
I nodded in agreement, “Okay. I’ll cook up a few extra pieces.”
Dash and I started working on supper, chopping veggies, and prepping the hay. I was on chicken duty, not that I minded. Once the kids had set the table, they sat and talked about chicken.
Scoots was obviously excited and a little nervous at the prospect, “So, Summer. I think I should try it the way Dad eats it, more cooked than what you eat.”
“Me agree. Pony stomach not used to meat. Cooked that way, make it more…” Summer seemed at a loss for a moment, “What word?”
I suggested, “Digestible?”
Summer bowed her head in my direction, “Yes. Thank you, Father. Digestible.”
Dash turned from her hay chopping, “If you don’t like it, squirt, no big deal. Don’t feel you have to eat it. The last thing I want is for you to be sick.”
Scootaloo sighed, “I know, Mom.”
Once the meal was ready, I started serving the vegetables on everyone's plate, the hay on Dash and Scoot's plates, most of the well-done chicken on my plate, all the undercooked chicken on Summer's plates, and a single small well-done chicken strip on Scotaloos' plate.
I smiled, "Alright, Scootaloo. Go ahead and give it a try."
The orange pegasus tentatively nibbled on the cooked chicken. "Not bad. It's kind of bland. Maybe a little sugar will help?" She grabbed the sugar shaker and sprinkled some of the sweet crystals on the meat. She took another nibble. "It's not as exciting as I imagined. Not a bad flavour, but the texture is weird. A lot more rubbery than fish. I don't hate it, but I don't love it either." She moved the chicken to the side of her plate and dug into the vegetables and hay.
I chuckled, “Now we know. I'm glad you were curious enough to try it.”
Once we were all done, but before we started cleaning up, I cleared my throat to get everyone's attention. "So, I was thinking maybe we should have a get-together with our human family. What do you guys think?"
Scootaloo spoke with excitement, “It would be awesome to see Lily again. I vote yes.”
Dash smirked, “Natch! Be good to talk to Ann and the kids again.”
Summer looked a little confused, “Human family?”
Dash spoke, “Yeah. Your dad came from a different world. He is, er, was, the only human here. Before he came here, he had a family, but he can never go back. So, we’re his family now. And they’re family, too. It’s called a herd. Dad is the alpha-stallion, and his human wife, because she was first, is the alpha-mare.”
Summer nodded, “Me look forward to meeting alpha mother.”
I added, “Plus, there are two more siblings, Summer. Your brother Daniel and your sister Lily.”
A smile grew, “More pack-mates? This good.”
I smiled, “I’ll call Ann tonight and make the arrangements.”
By my back-of-the-envelope calculations, it should be about nine-thirty for Ann. I sat in the empty kitchen and made the connection. The connection took a few moments, a little longer than last time, but we were talking across who knew how many universes. I was grateful it worked at all.
Ann answered in her nightgown. She seemed a little sleepy, “Oh, hey, Alex. Why are you calling so late? It’s past ten-thirty. Is there something wrong?”
I was surprised but didn’t let her know, “Everything is fine. I must have miscalculated. Sorry about that.”
She waved a hand dismissively, “No problem. What’s up?”
I smiled, “Well, it’s been an exciting few weeks here. Dash and I finally adopted Scootaloo. We also adopted Summer Blossom. Well, we made her part of the family, anyway. It’s complicated.
Ann smirked, “Wow! You have been busy.”
I nodded, “So, I wanted to call and arrange a time for all the kids to meet. Get the whole herd together, as it were.”
She thought for a moment. “That’s a good idea. Maybe two days from now at around seven? Lily has her art classes after supper tomorrow.”
I nodded, “Alright. Seven in the evening, on Fall 129, that’s a Thursday.”
“I’ll never get used to the Equestrian calendar system.”
I shrugged, “Took me a while, too. I have to convert months into weeks constantly. I still get funny looks when it slips out.”
We were both silent for a moment. Ann tentatively began, “So, I went on a date.”
I smiled, despite the sting in my heart, “That’s great. I always said you were a catch.”
“Well, yeah, you did. I’ve come to terms with you never coming back, and I always told you to build a life. I may as well follow my own advice, eh?”
I chuckled sadly, “Yeah—nothing we can do about it. Still, I hope you’re happy. You are happy with this new person?”
She nodded, and I could see the sadness in her expression.
We both sat silently, lost in thought. I finally spoke, “Welp, may as well call it a night. Sleep well, and give my love to the kids.”
She replied with a little sadness in her voice, “Same. Say hi to Rainbow for me." She paused for a moment, then quietly added, "Night.” She then closed the connection. I sat and stared at the dark screen.
For the first time I could remember, we didn't end the call with an 'I love you' or anything similar. The realization tore a hole in my heart.
Rainbow Dash, my sky-blue angel, shattered the silence with gentle concern. "Hey, big guy. I overheard some of that. You okay?"
"Yeah. It still hurts," I admitted, my shoulders lifting in a resigned shrug. I could feel a moistness threatening the corners of my eyes.
Dash nestled close, her presence a comforting weight beside me. I sensed the soft feathers of her wings as they enveloped my shoulders and the gentle warmth of her cheek pressed tenderly against mine. Her whisper, a soothing balm to my aching heart, carried conviction. "Everything will be alright. I know it will," she assured me, her voice a murmur of unwavering loyalty.
The weather ponies were stretched thin during the busy late Fall, and every set of hooves counted, including those of a national hero. To streamline the morning routine, I suggested that Dash take her usual shower in the evening. With breakfast and lunch already prepared, Dash could get ready quickly and efficiently without the usual morning scramble.
Summer Blossom was earning the respect of Cheerilee and her classmates at school. In fact, Trixie's two enthusiastic admirers had taken to calling Summer "cool." She was gaining popularity amongst her peers, and her confidence and poise were apparent to everyone around her.
Scootaloo was thrilled to go to school as she was becoming something of a minor celebrity as the daughter of the human who had stopped the diamond dog attack. Having a diamond dog sister who was considered ‘cool’ only added to her newfound status, and she basked in the attention she received from her classmates.
The morning was going smoothly. After Dash and the kids left, I tended to Tank and Dino, tidied the kitchen, and tackled some minor household chores. I was just finishing up when I heard a knock on the door. I called out, “Coming!”
As I opened the door, there was Wood Frame, looking eager. “Hey there, boss,” he said with a smile on his mug.
His enthusiasm was hard to beat, “Good morning, Wood. How did your arrangements go yesterday? Did you manage to take care of everything?”
“Yeah, it went well. Sweetie Petunia, my wife, is on her way to find a place and register our son, Winter Gust, at the school. Got a few other odds-and-sods sorted, too.”
“Great! However, there’s been a slight change of plans. I think it would be best to include Beatrix in this meeting. I’ll leave the plans and paperwork here. There’s too much to carry. We'll be going for a short walk, getting some coffee, and meeting up with Bea.”
He nodded, "Sounds good. Guess we’re off, boss?"
I chuckled, “Oh, don’t call me ‘boss’, please. I’m Alex. ‘Boss’ implies I own you or something. You are a partner in this endeavour. Don’t forget that. Just call me Alex.”
While we walked, I gave him a general description of what the theatre was supposed to accomplish—the new town hall, the community shelter, and, of course, the theatre itself.
We stopped at Sugarcube Corner for three coffees and tea for Bea.
“Who’s that third coffee for?” He quickly added, “If you don’t mind me asking.”
I simply said, "My sister."
As we neared Applejack’s stand, I mused, “Hmmm. We need an office or a central place to meet or something. It would make storing plans much easier. I'm running out of room.”
Wood’s head tilted a little in that pony way that showed the pony in question was in their element. “Ya know? I may have an idea about that. Once I see the plans, I’ll be able to say for sure, but what we could do, for now, is find a spot in the city hall. I could fix it up if we need to.”
“I’ll be happy to put in some sweat equity. I’m decently handy and follow instructions.”
He chuckled, “Ya, that last one is the rare one.”
As we walked up to Applejack, she tilted her hat back and gave us a friendly smile. "Hey there, Alex. I see your new friend is with you."
I bowed my head slightly and gestured with my hand, "Allow me to introduce my newest partner in the theatre, Mr Wood Frame. He will be heading the construction, maintenance, and future special projects."
"Mighty fine to make your acquaintance, Wood Frame. Good to have a pony to help keep my brother on the straight and narrow," she chuckled.
Wood frame nodded, "Thank you, ma'am. Nice to meet you, too."
I explained to Applejack, "We're just heading to Bea's to grab her and head back to my place. Too much paper to lug. Oh, and before I forget, here's your coffee."
She took the cup graciously, "Why thank you, sugarcube."
Wood suddenly got a confused expression, "Wait. Brother? She's your sister? But how?"
I shrugged and smirked, "I was adopted late in life."
Applejack chuckled, "He's an Apple to the core, don't you doubt it."
We finally reached Bea's house, the silver decorations sparkling in the morning sun. The garden was lush and healthy, even this late in the fall. I guessed Big Macintosh must have helped her out with that.
I knocked on the door and waited patiently. I could hear Beatrix call from inside, "Coming."
When she opened the door, the first thing I saw was unexpected. Usually, Beatrix looked like Trixie. Full stop. The only way I could tell the difference was her voice and mannerisms. Trixie had a more breathless, nasal voice, and usually had her hat and cape. Now, Bea looked like a school teacher. She wore her mane in a simple bun, wore a simple orange knitted shawl, and was wearing hoof bracelets. I had to surreptitiously glance at her cutie mark to make sure it was the same pony. Yup, it was her.
"Good morning, Miss Beatrix. I'd like to present our new construction manager and future maintenance and special project pony, Wood Frame. We've come to get you for a meeting at my place to go over the theatre plans. Sorry to spring this on you."
She dismissed my concern with a wave of her hoof, "Not at all, boss. I was wondering when you would be over.
Wood Frame interjected, "He doesn't like being called boss."
Bea, smirked, "I know, but he lets me do it because he really likes Trixie."
I chuckled, "You mean, I let you get away with it because you're an amazing illusionist, and I owe you one."
The Wood Frame looked a little confused and said, to no one in particular, "Dis is the weirdest job I've ever taken."
Pinkie Pie was busy in the kitchen of Sugarcube Corner. It was nearing the end of her—
Pinkie suddenly looked up at the ceiling, a slight scowl on her muzzle, her eyes narrowed. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Mr Ignore-Pinkie-Until-A-Plot-Point-Needs-To-Be-Resolved. So, what is it this time?”
She listened carefully as—
Pinkie interrupted the unheard voice, “Yeah, yeah. Scootaloo’s birthday party. Got it. I’m still a little upset you didn’t add a new chapter to our story. It’s been since August.”
As she listened, her expression became sheepish.
“Oh. In that case, all is forgiven!”
Mr Cake had walked into the room and tentatively asked, “Who is forgiven, Pinkie?”
“Mr Author.”
Mr Cake decided it would be best to just smile, nod, and agree. Pinkie was in one of her moods. If she wasn’t the best darn baker in Ponyville, maybe all of Equestria…
As the sun shone brightly in the sky, we dedicated the remaining morning to studying the intricate plans for the new theatre. At my kitchen table, we meticulously scrutinized every minute detail of the design, from the ornate architectural features that would adorn the facade to the high-quality materials of polished mahogany, wrought iron, and plush velvet that would be used inside to create a luxurious atmosphere.
While I had a general understanding of how to interpret simple blueprints, Wood Frame was invaluable in patiently explaining and deciphering even the most complex technical details of the schematics. He was clearly impressed with the exemplary work that the renowned architect Perfect Home had produced for our project.
After reviewing the structural details, he happily exclaimed, "And not a single weld on any supports."
We discussed the potential audience for the theatre and the types of performances that would be held there. We also considered the logistical aspects of the project, such as the seating capacity, the location of the theatre, and the necessary infrastructure to support the performances.
As we reviewed the plans, we also discussed the potential challenges that we might face during the construction process. We brainstormed ways to overcome these challenges and ensure that the theatre was built to our exact specifications.
I felt the key to ensuring a seamless flow of patrons to the theatre and a steady income without placing an undue strain on the trains was constructing a network of teleportation pads. To begin with, it was essential to establish the primary receiving pad in Ponyville. However, we would also require one in Canterlot, Manehatten, and Fillydelphia. Nevertheless, placing a pad in Cloudsdale would prove to be a challenging task. Fortunately, Wood Frame had collaborated with a pegasus civil engineer, Sky Hook, who could offer valuable assistance.
Furthermore, Bea expressed her enthusiasm for a portable pad to transport to smaller towns. After all, why neglect such a lucrative market?
In addition to their primary purpose, the teleportation pads could also be utilized as a rapid transport and package delivery system. With this, we might be able to achieve within-the-hour delivery wherever a pad was, all for a premium price, of course.
The construction of a teleportation pad network was a crucial aspect of ensuring the success of our project, and we were determined to make it happen. With the help of Wood Frame and our top architect, Perfect Home, we were confident that we could overcome any challenges that came our way.
As we were making steady progress on the theatre project, we were thrilled with the momentum we had built up. Around midday, Wood Frame informed us that he needed to run a few errands before his wife, Sweetie Petunia, could make her way to town. Sensing that we had made significant strides, I proposed that we take the rest of the afternoon off to contemplate the information we had discussed thus far. This would allow us to fully absorb the details and ideas we had examined and provide us with a fresh perspective when we returned to work.
Once Wood Frame had left for his errands, I gave Beatrix a quick summary of who he was and how we met. I then asked Bea, "So? What do you think of him?"
She replied with a smile, "I like him. He's a no-nonsense pony who cares about his craft and his little ponies. And for what he does, that's exactly what we need. I'm glad he took you up on the offer."
I nodded, "Yeah, me too."
For a moment, we sat quietly, deep in thought. I finally broke the silence and asked tentatively, "So, next week is Scootaloo's birthday. I was wondering if I could hire Trixie to give a show." Before she could reply, " I know it's a little short notice, but I'll be happy to compensate her fairly for her time and effort. Her usual rates?"
She looked at me incredulously, “What? Are you kidding? No, you can’t hire Trixie.”
I was crestfallen. “Oh, okay. Maybe Pinkie can—”
My fabulous entertainer friend interrupted me, “No, no, no. You misunderstand, boss. I’ll be happy to do it. That little filly of yours is an amazing little firecracker. My objection is to being paid. Trixie wants only the adulation of the crowd.”
I answered worriedly, “Are you sure? I mean, you’re off the clock. I don’t expect anything for free.”
She smirked, “If the situation was reversed, wouldn’t you drop everything to help me?”
I shrugged, “Of course, but that’s me. I can’t expect others to—”
She interrupted me again, “Then think of it as a favour to Trixie.”
I raised my hands in surrender, “You drive a hard bargain, Miss Lulamoon.”
She raised her cup, “Indeed I do.”
Before seeing Pinkie about a party, I thought I would check on Matt. I wanted to make sure he was acclimatizing to life in Ponyville. I had heard he had visited the music shop and played the piano. That was a good sign. Apparently, he's a great musician. I only felt the slightest pang of jealousy.
I also wanted to give him and Lyra a synopsis of what I'd be saying to the class, just to make sure I didn't give any false impressions to the impressionable young ponies.
I tentatively raise a hand to knock on Lyra and Bonbon's bright red front door. I felt that things might still be tense and awkward with Matt after our last interaction. We had parted on decent terms, but certainly not the best or friendliest. I wasn't sure how to make the knock sound friendly, so I kept it simple. I gave two solid knocks. The front door slowly creaked open. Standing there in the doorway was Lyra, with a messy mane. Her expression shifted from a happy smile at expecting a friend to a more closed-off and neutral expression as she saw me standing there.
She spoke in a controlled, neutral tone that thinly veiled her true feelings, "Oh. Hello, Mr. Roberts. What a surprise. How can we help you today?"
From deeper within the cozy house, I heard Bonbon call out in a singsong voice, "Be nice, dear!"
Lyra looked over her shoulder and rolled her eyes in exasperation. She then put on an exaggerated, forced smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, "Hi there, Alex. What can I do for you on this fine day?"
I supposed I deserved the cold reception after the last time. On the other hand, Lyra being overprotective was also a good sign. "Well, I would like to speak with Matt, please. I was invited to give a guest lecture at the school about humans and culture, and wanted to get Matt's input and perspective. I'd also love to get your thoughts as well, Lyra. Both of your unique perspectives would be incredibly helpful to prepare what I'll say."
Just then, Matt limped into view behind Lyra. He spoke in a weary, guarded tone, "Hey, Alex. What brings you by?"
I tried speaking in a cheerful, upbeat tone to lighten the mood, "Matt! Just the man I was hoping to see. I got invited by the school to give a talk to the students about humans, and I was hoping to get your feedback on what kinds of things I should cover."
There was a pregnant pause as Matt eyed me warily, and then he turned and slowly limped toward the living room. "I guess I can spare a few minutes. Come on in. I need to sit and rest this leg."
Lyra's eyes narrowed sharply, and she spoke in a protective tone, "You don't have to do anything he asks, Matt. Don't feel obligated. He's not your friend."
Matt sighed heavily and spoke gently, "It's okay, Lyra. I know you're just looking out for me. But he's making an effort to be friendly and make amends. I should at least hear him out. Besides, I want to make sure he doesn't go filling those kids' heads with any weird ideas about humans."
The chat I had with Lyra and Matt earlier in the day went surprisingly well, all things considered. Lyra, who had initially come across as rather frosty and distrustful of me, appeared to be thawing ever so slightly—perhaps my friendly demeanour was finally beginning to break through her defensive veneer. Bonbon, too, seemed more relaxed in my company than before.
I cannot fail to mention that the scrumptious chocolates prepared by Bonbon's deft hooves were simply heavenly—the velvety, rich texture and complex flavours were unlike anything I had tasted in years. For a fleeting moment, I considered proposing some sort of exclusive distribution deal to sell Bonbon's chocolates at the theatre, but I quickly abandoned the half-baked business idea. Now was plainly not the time to propose any financial matters to either of them, not when our personal relationship remained on less than solid ground. Instead, any discussions of business could wait until later, once a solid foundation of trust had been established. For the time being, I was content with the fact that we had managed to navigate our conversation without any major faux pas—slow and steady progress.
Anyway, it was mid-afternoon, and I was now done with school and theatre stuff. I decided to go to see Pinkie at Sugarcube Corner. I knew her shift should end soon, if it’s not already over. I wanted to ask her to help me plan for Scootaloo’s birthday next week.
Pinkie bounced out from the kitchen, “Hey, Alex!”
I smiled. That pony always brightened any room she was in. “Pinkie! How are things?”
“Better, now that a friend is here.” She looked at the ceiling and smiled.
’That Pinkie’, I thought, ’always so strange.’ I bowed my head slightly and said, “Why, thank you, Miss Pie. I'm always glad to see you, too. I’m actually here on business for you and the Cakes.”
She gave me an exaggerated grin, “Let me guess. Scootaloo’s eighth birthday, that’s about her tenth birthday your time, is on Fall 135, next week, and you want me to plan a party for her?”
I was impressed. “Got it in one.”
She continued, “And her favourite cake is vanilla with strawberry frosting!”
I was a little surprised, “Really? I thought it was chocolate.”
Pinkie grinned, “Nope. That’s her second favourite. Unless—“ she tapped her chin in thought, then exclaimed, “I’ve got it! A quadruple layer cake, chocolate, vanilla, chocolate, vanilla, with chocolate fudge frosting on the outside and strawberry frosting between the layers! Maybe a thin inner layer of strawberry on the outside, and then the outer layer of chocolate. Oh yeah.” She got a faraway look, “That’s gonna be good.”