Equestrian Tales Told by Tavernlight

by TalonMach5

Chapter Two: The Outrageous Adventure of Sir Stouthorn the Chivalrous Minotaur and His Loyal Companion Seafoam the Seapony

She listened to the echo of her hooves, as she walked through brightly lit hallway. It’d been ages since she had been here last, but it was just as she remembered it. The Harper’s Guild was an ornately decorated building, rich with prestige and history. The thick red carpet beneath her hooves was a stark contrast to the dark mahogany than made up the walls and ceiling of the large building. Ornate gold leaf calligraphy in a flowing script ran along the walls, naming the organization’s most prestigious members. Ponies like Broken Quill the Mad, Three Strings, and Stormbreak, even nonponies like Rhapsodia and Mirenella Silverwing had their names enshrined here. Passing through another hallway, she saw a name she hadn’t thought about in ages, Carbuncle, her old seapony harper master. Looking at his name, she thought about the last time she had spoken with him, and hung her head in shame.

“Master, you’re a fool for wasting our time with these peasants!” she'd shouted at him in frustration, slamming their caravan’s door roughly behind her.

“Trixie,” the middle aged pale green seapony had admonished her, floating in front of her with a look of disapproval on his greying muzzle. “Harper’s go where they're needed. We might be the only entertainment these remote villages see in an entire season.”

“But how else am I to earn wealth and renown?” she'd pressed him, displeased with how little opportunity she'd had to shine. “The praises of rock farmers and country bumpkins is worth squat.”

“There is more to life than bits and fame,” he'd told her, shaking his head sorrowfully at his willful apprentice.

She'd looked at the magic bubble holding him aloft, and scowled. To her, the magic that allowed seaponies like her master to live on dry land, was just another thing holding her back. Because his magic was weaker, they were forced to travel a route no more than three days away from the Western Sea. Normally she wouldn’t have complained, but her master continually refused to visit any of the larger ports Like Bone’s Landing or Triton’s Crossing. When she'd confronted him about it, his response was always the same. “The large ports have dozens of harpers to entertain them, but for every day we stay in the city, another small hamlet or village must go without.”

But now, she was fed up with his feeble excuses. She didn’t need him anymore, her magic had been carrying their shows for months. “Master Carbuncle, either we go to one of the large ports next, or I’m leaving!” she'd demanded, issuing him her ultimatum.

“Then go,” he'd told her, with regret and sorrow reflected in his fading golden eyes. “I guess I have nothing left to teach you.”

When she heard him tell her to leave, she'd felt her heart pierced with remorse. But her foalish pride wouldn’t allow her to back down, and she'd ended leaving the caravan without looking back.

Not long after that, during her own travels, she'd heard that he'd died. A large fire had broken out in one of the back water hamlets he’d been visiting at the time, and he'd been too slow to make it to the safety of the town's well. Afterwards, she'd often wondered, had she been there might she have made a difference? She didn't know, but the past was the past, and there was no sense on dwelling on it. At least that was the platitude she always told herself to assuage her guilty conscience.

Looking back to his name, she saw that the place normally reserved for an apprentice was left empty. Glancing up at a nearby clock, her eyes widened when she realized she was almost late for her appointment. Fearful of being late, she broke into a full gallop, barreling past ponies left and right in her haste to reach the auditorium in time.

When she finally reached the large bronze doors, she paused to catch her breath. Shaking her silvery mane once, she took a deep breath, looked at her dull reflection in the metal door and smiled. Knowing it was now or never, she opened the doors and boldly walked forward to meet the ponies who would be judging her fate.

Sitting in the rather empty auditorium were three senior harpers. An impatient silvery unicorn stallion who was constantly checking the nearby wall clock, a white seapony mare brushing her ivory mane, and a bored looking green minotauress who managed to stifle a yawn.

Spying her, the stallion looked down at the clipboard he held in his hooves momentarily, looked up at Trixie with his stern blue eyes, and gave her a disapproving look. “Miss Trixie Lulamoon,” he said, writing something down on the clipboard. “If you want your application to be instated as a Harper to be taken seriously, you must be punctual.”

“Quite right, Clockwork,” the seapony said. “Lord Triton has said that punctuality is next to chivalry.”

“Laguna, just let her tell her tale so we can get out of here and get some lunch,” the minotauress said, leaning back in her seat and stretching out her arms.

Clockwork narrowed his eyes and gave his colleague a disapproving look. “Very well Clara Belle,” he said, unhappy with her lack of decorum. “Miss Lulamoon you may begin.”

Trixie panicked, she hadn’t realized there would be a minotaur and seapony judging her. Racking her mind, she remembered a story she’d heard long ago from a wayfarer she once met in the Everfree, she didn’t know if it was true or not. But she thought given her normal repertoire, she they might enjoy the story. “I wish to tell a tale of Sir Stouthorn the Chivalrous and his page Seafoam,” she said, projecting her voice out into the auditorium.

“Young mare, we don’t have three days to listen to you tell us of Stouthorn and Seafoam,” Clockwork said, interrupting her. “You are only to tell us a story, not an epic.”

“This isn’t the epic of Stouthorn and Seafoam,” she protested, worried they might vote against her out of spite.

“I know all of their exploits by heart,” Laguna said, pointing a fin towards her. “And they have no stories, only epics.”

“What about their adventures in Stableton?” she asked, hopeful they would allow her to tell the tale.

Clara Belle bit her lip thoughtfully. “This had better be a legit story,” she said. “I won’t tolerate anytaurus spreading falsehoods about two of the greatest knights of the Lawgiver to have ever lived.”

“Fine, you can tell the story,” Clockwork said, “but if it’s false, you’ll never be allowed to work in a harper approved venue again.”

Trixie closed her eyes and lit up her horn, as she prepared to set the mood for her tale. “It was a dark night, and the moon was shrouded by clouds,” she said. “The village of Stableton was a poor mining town. Although they managed to scrape by every year, one fateful summer, disaster struck…”

“This is impossible!” the greying mayor shouted, after reading the list of demands the town’s miners had given him. “There’s no way I can authorize these kinds of expenditures.”

“We don’t go back to work until the mines have been cleared out!” the throng of angry mining ponies shouted.

“For the last time,” the mayor said, unsuccessfully trying to keep the miners from striking. “There are no monsters in the mine.”

“Mayor,” a burly looking red earth pony said, choking back a sob while his green eyes reflected horrors that mortals were never meant to see. “You weren’t there. You didn’t hear their screams, as they were carried off into the darkness. You didn’t see Big Petey getting dragged off into the shadows, and listen to his screams as they devoured him alive.”

“Forepony Slag,” the mayor wearily replied. “If I spend the night in the mines, will you agree to go back to work?”

The assembled pony miners whispered to each other before nodding affirmatively to their forepony. Slag approached the mayor. “Eyup,” he agreed. “Provided you survive the night.”

At that, the mayor’s face went ashen, as he seriously considered withdrawing his offer. But knowing that unless the mines were reopened, their town was economically doomed, he slowly walked towards the waiting mine entrance. With the weak light from the lantern that he carried in his mouth as his only source of comfort, he stepped into the terrifying shadows of the unknown. Moments after he disappeared into the mine, his screams were heard echoing from the shaft as he galloped out of the mine like a bat out of Tartarus.

“Get ready lads!” Slag shouted to the weary miners.

Moments later, the skeletal remains of half a dozen ponies shambled out of the mine after the mayor, angry at having been disturbed by the living. Their bones animated by some unknown dark neighcromatic magic, clacked together like some perverse symphony of the dead. Their empty eye sockets burned with a green balefire that focused on the pony miners, as their wailing moans revealed their hatred of and great desire to devour the living.

When he saw that the abominations were all out of the mine, he flicked his tail and rubbed his tongue against his teeth. “Now!” he shouted.

In unison, all the miners pounded their hooves against the rocky soil, causing a rock slide and burying the shambling dead beneath tons of earth and stone.

“So you finally gonna get us some of them Knights of the Lawgiver?” Forepony Slag asked the mayor, who was cowering behind a wagon.

“So why are we headed to the Western Sea again?” asked a small green seapony to his much larger companion, while he had his muzzle buried behind a large map.

“To right wrongs of course, young Seafoam,” his blue furred minotaur companion said. Tilting his ears to the side, he suddenly stopped in his tracks. Drawing his large battle axe, he turned to his charge and shouted before rushing into the thicket. “Follow me, I sense evil is afoot!”

Startled by his master’s outburst, he nearly dropped the map as he watched him charge headfirst into the brush like a blue blur. Quickly folding up the map and placing it inside his pack, he drew his own weapon, and followed after him into the thicket.

Brandishing his trident, he cut through the tangle of vines baring his way until he managed to catch up with his master. “Sir Stouthorn,” he said, nearly out of breath, “what are we chasing after?”

“Why adventure of course,” he whispered, pointing to a large group of ponies carrying clubs and knives that had surrounded a mule pulling a wagon. “But I believe those are the no good brigands we’ve been after, it looks like they’re robbing a damsel in distress as we speak.”

“Sir Stouthorn, shall we get the drop on them?” he asked, looking for the best place to launch an ambush.

“And possibly let these na’er-do-wells escape with their ill-gotten gains? Never!” he said, boldly stepping out of the thicket and striking as heroic a pose as possible. “You lot surrender, or prepare to taste divine justice!”

“Well lookee what we got here, boyos,” a scruffy looking black unicorn said. Holding a nasty looking shiv with his magic, he shook his greasy mane, revealing that he was missing his right ear and wore a nasty looking scar that ran along his face.

Sir Stouthorn held his weapon at the ready, and looked at them sternly, daring them to interrupt his monologue. “I am Sir le Boeuf Stouthorn, the chivalrous, of the ‘Most Illustrious Order of Triton the Lawgiver’, and I say to you knaves, surrender, or prepare to face the divine judgment of the Lawgiver!”

The unicorn flipped his shiv in the air, and gave each of his fellows a sinister grin. Slowly they approached him, casting his brown eyes on each of them Sir Stouthorn counted their numerous sins and shook his horns in disapproval. The wicked black souls of these criminal scum assaulted his pure spirit, and he snorted in contempt. Tightly gripping his axe, his tail twitched as a cool breeze blew across his faded blue and grey coat.

Seafoam ground his teeth in vexation, when he saw that his master had once again gotten them into another messy fight. Waiting for his master to make the first move, Seafoam held his trident in his fin as he waited, concealed behind some thick foliage.

“I see I can’t persuade you blackguards to turn yourselves in,” Sir Stouthorn said, saddened that he would once again be forced to punish the unrepentant.

The unicorn said nothing, instead he flicked his shiv squarely at the minotaur’s head. Skillfully dodging the knife, he brought down his axe shouting, “For great justice!” as he parried one of the pony bandit’s clubs and dodged another’s knife.

Readying his trident for combat, Seafoam rushed into the battle to aid his master. “For the Lawgiver!” he cried out, slamming his trident hard against the nearest ponies back, rendering him unconscious.

“That’s one evil doer down,” Sir Stouthorn said.

“You’ll pay for that, you waterlogged rat,” the black unicorn ruffian growled.

“How rude,” Sir Stouthorn replied, parrying another blow and kicking another brigand in the muzzle, sending them flying into a nearby tree.

“That’s two master,” Seafoam said, thrusting his weapon towards the scarred unicorn.

Before he could congratulate his page, he felt the impact of a heavy club against his back. Bellowing in pain, he picked up the unchivalrous fiend who had so cowardly attacked him and flung him against two of his compatriots, knocking them out.

“Excellent hit Sir Stouthorn,” Seafoam shouted, cheering his master on as he parried a knife thrust with his weapon.

“Well you know lad,” he replied, ducking to miss a thrown club. “The key to a good throw is all in the wrist, but when you get to be my age, it’s not as easy as it used to be.”

“Master, why is that, not thinking of retiring are you?” Seafoam asked, slamming the butt of his trident into the head of a pony sneaking up behind him.

“Not in the slightest lad. It’s just that I remember that this used to be much easier!” he said, slamming his knee into another pony’s muzzle. “Seafoam, I think that about wraps up this lot doesn’t it?”

Seafoam counted the groaning and unconscious ponies on the ground. “Looks like one got away Sir Stouthorn,” he said, trying to determine what happened to the leader.

“Evil escape? Not on my watch!” Sir Stouthorn shouted, brandishing his axe heroically.

“Listen, you muscle bound moron,” the unicorn’s cruel voice said from behind them. “You’re letting me go or the mule gets it!”

Turning around, Sir Stouthorn saw to his dismay that the scoundrel was holding his shiv up against the mule’s neck.

“Please don’t hurt me!” she whimpered, as the knife pressed against her throat.

“Shut up nag!” he shouted, pressing the knife even deeper and drawing blood.

Seeing the thug abusing the helpless maiden, made Sir Stouthorn’s blood boil. Hoping to stop him from doing anything rash, he slowly approached him. “Now listen chum,” he said. “There’s no need for further violence.”

“Exactly, drop your weapons on the ground and there won’t be,” he said, looking at Seafoam and Sir Stouthorn’s weapons.

Slowly lowering his axe, he nodded to Seafoam to do the same and laid it on the ground. Spying a smooth stone nearby, he palmed it in his hand and got back up. “See old chum,” he said, slowly backing away from him. “We’re disarmed, let her go.”

“Piss off, hornhead,” he sneered, daring them to come any closer. “She’s my hostage. You come after me, and I’ll slit her throat.”

Sir Stouthorn nodded to his page and waited. Seeing his master’s sign, Seafoam took off into the bushes, much to the unicorn’s confusion.

“What the?” the brigand said in confusion, and taking his eyes away from Sir Stouthorn momentarily.

Seeing his chance, he flung the rock as hard as he could against the unicorn’s horn, cracking it.

“Argh! My Celestia damned horn,” he screeched in pain, as Sir Stouthorn rushed towards him, slamming his mighty fists of justice into his muzzle, sending him flying.

“Take that, you swine!” he shouted with righteous triumph.

Kneeling down before the frightened mule, he kissed her hoof. “My lady, are you all right?” he asked with concern.

“Yes, thank you for rescuing me,” she said, giving her savior a grateful hug.

Standing up, he bowed once and offered her a cheerful smile, while stroking his magnificent mustache. “It’s all in the days work for a knight of the Lawgiver,” he said, allowing the sun overhead reflect off his silvery breastplate, while proudly displaying the sigil of Lord Triton to her. Picking up his axe, he attached it to his belt, and began securing the brigands so they could finally face justice for their crimes. “My lady, where’s the nearest constabulary?”

“That would be in Stableton,” she said, pointing her hoof to the west.

Might you be kind enough to lend us your wagon, so we can turns these bandits over to the authorities?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said. “But may I have the names of my brave rescuer’s?”

“But of course,” he said with a slight bow, happy to introduce them to her. “I am Sir Stouthorn, and this is my faithful page Seafoam, a knight in training.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” she said, with a slight blush. “I’m Mulinda, a local trader.”

“Well madam merchant,” he said, offering her a warm smile. “Shall we be off?”

Nodding once, she pulled the wagon forward as the three of them headed towards the sleepy mining town of Stableton.

A few hours later, they pulled into the hamlet and wished Mulinda good luck before she resumed her journey. When they set hoof in Stableton, they were surprised by how empty the town seemed.

“Outrageous!” Sir Stouthorn exclaimed, when he discovered the local constable’s office was closed. Flagging down a nearby earth pony pulling a cart, he pointed towards the closed jail. “What’s the meaning of this mischief?”

“Ponies have been leaving town, ever since the mines closed down,” the pony replied, laying his ears back against his head. “Stranger, if you’re smart you’ll do the same.”

“Leave town with our tails between our legs, like simpering cowards? Poppycock!” he declared, pointing a finger at the pony. “Come Seafoam, let’s go see the mayor about this!”

Leaving the unconscious and bound ponies in front of the jail, they marched forward with purpose as they sought out the mayor in hopes of answering the riddle of why the jail was closed.

“Well don’t say I didn’t warn you,” the pony called after them, as he left the town behind him.

Spying the mayor’s house, Sir Stouthorn stepped forward and rapped heavily on the door with his fist of justice, making it known to evil doers within the sound of his knocking that their time was up.

The door opened and a pudgy looking green earth pony stallion gaped at the huge minotaur standing on his front porch. Spying the sigil on his armor, his blue eyes lit up with hope. “You’ve finally come,” he said.

“Yes we have,” Sir Stouthorn said, before dramatically pointing towards the closed jail down the street. “What’s the meaning behind closing the prison?”

“The constables all left,” he said.

“Dereliction of duty? Have they no honor, no sense of civic pride?” he asked, feeling indignation that anytarus would abandon their post.

“It doesn’t matter,” the mayor said. “Pretty much everypony has already left, besides without the mine to provide employment, this town is on its last legs.”

“The mine dried up? Why not send a petition to Lord Darkpaw to restore it?” Sir Stouthorn asked. “If you asked nicely, I’m sure he would renew the mine for you.”

“No, the mine is infested with evil!” the mayor said, shivering at the terrible memories of what he had seen.

“Well, vanquishing evil just so happens to be our specialty!” he said, looking the mayor square in the eye. “Point the way, and Seafoam and I will make short work of your unwelcome squatters.”

“Sir Stouthorn!” Seafoam said with alarm. “Are you sure we should? We've no idea what we’ll be up against.”

Placing his hoof forward, and drawing his axe with a heroic flourish, he looked dramatically into the distance. “Seafoam, of course I do,” he zealously replied, “we’re facing wicked scoundrels that need to feel the righteous might of my fists of justice against their obstinate heads.”

“But we could be facing a gaggle of boggledeboos, a pack vernicious canids, or even a dragon!” he objected. “We’re not equipped to handle every situation.”

“Nonsense, brave Seafoam, we have everything we need because we have heart,” he said, dismissing his companion’s fears. “And heart is the only weapon ever needed to vanquish evil!”

“Well Sir Stouthorn, when you put it that way…” he said, giving his master a worried look.

“My thoughts exactly!” he said to his stalwart companion with a wide grin. “Good mayor, which way to the mines?”

The dumbfounded mayor looked at him, and mutely pointed towards an eastern road. “Take that road until you get to the mine,” he said. “You can’t miss it.”

“Excellent! Come Seafoam, I want to teach this menace a lesson before dinnertime,” he said, marching boldly towards the unknown dangers that lurked in the mine.

The mayor watched the two knights of the Lawgiver walk away. Shaking his head sadly, he was confident they would be shortly joining the growing hoard found inside that mine of terrors.

The mine was dark and musty, but Sir Stouthorn walked inside at a brisk pace, undisturbed by its creepy atmosphere. However, Seafoam was another matter as he cautiously looked at every shadow, half expecting some unknown horror to leap out and attack them.

As a minotaur, Sir Stouthorn’s sense of direction made navigating the mine a simple task. But after wandering inside for thirty minutes, he was beginning to wonder where all the evil was at. Beyond the dust and rubble, the mine seemed to be abandoned. And unless you considered the wickedness of dirt and grime, there was a noticeable lack of villainy to be found anywhere.

“I say Seafoam,” Sir Stouthorn said, disappointed they'd be leaving the mine without having vanquished even the smallest bit of injustice. “Do you think we entered the correct mine?”

“I believe so,” Seafoam said, pointing at some bones lying on the ground. On closer inspection, the bones looked like they had been stripped bare of their flesh recently.

“Ugh, that looks like it might have been painful,” he mused, as he drew his axe. Spying a pony standing in a side passage he called out. “I say, my good stallion, have you seen any evil up and about?”

When the pony heard his boisterous greeting, it turned around and looked at them with hunger its burning eyes. Pieces of its flesh were missing, and its foreleg was stripped to the bone. Opening its mouth, it released a wailing scream that echoed throughout the mine.

“Bloody Tartarus, Seafoam” he shouted, covering his ears. “That blighter sure like to make a racket, doesn’t he?”

“I’ll say,” Seafoam replied, throwing his trident at the undead pony, and knocking its head clean off. The instant its head was removed, the corpse ceased shrieking and collapsed.

“Good show, Seafoam,” Sir Stouthorn said, applauding his page’s martial skill. “Though it’s a shame the Harper’s Guild won’t bother with our adventure here. Though I wonder why the local guards couldn’t handle things, since we managed to dispatch it this easily.”

Seafoam retrieved his trident, and offered his master a small bow. Returning to his master's side, he heard rattling noises from behind him and turned around. What he saw, made him slightly worried. “Sir Stouthorn!” he called out, slowly backing away from it. “Whatever it was that I just killed, is now regenerating.”

“Bloody brilliant!” Sir Stouthorn shouted with excitement. “We might get a song out of this after all! Come Seafoam, let’s show it the righteous fury of Lord Triton the Lawgiver.”

Seafoam gripped his trident, and thrust forward, breaking the creatures legs to pieces

“For Great Justice!” Sir Stouthorn shouted, dropping his axe down on the beast’s head and smashing it to pieces. The moment the skull split into fragments, green neighcrotic energy sank into the earth beneath his hooves. “Ha, ha, evil doer! I dare you to come back from that!”

“Uh, Sir Stouthorn,” Seafoam said, anxiously tugging on his master's breastplate.

“Yes lad,” he said, examining the fallen corpse at his hooves, as he tried to decipher the secrets of its locomotion.

“I think we’re in trouble,” he said, pointing his trident forward.

“Why do you say that?” he asked. Looking up, he saw countless numbers of animated corpses closing in on them. “Oh bollocks.”

“What should we do?” Seafoam asked his mentor, as he appraised their situation. Things didn’t look good, their only avenue of escape was blocked off by these things, and inside the claustrophobic tunnels of the mine, they only had limited maneuverability. Fortunately, these things seemed easy enough to stop. However their numbers were so great, that it appeared to be a hopeless situation.

“Seafoam, I’ll tell you what we’re not going to. We’re not going to panic,” Sir Stouthorn said, preparing to strike their foes down with his axe. “It’s times like these that tries one’s soul. So take heart lad, and let the quest provide!”

Hearing his master’s words of encouragement, he uttered a silent prayer to Lord Triton, as he thrust his trident forward into the nearest shambling abomination. “For the Lawgiver!” he cried out, determined to take as many of these things to the Pit with him as possible.

Pleased with his protégé’s courageous heart in the face of such overwhelming odds, Sir Stouthorn released a loud bellow and launched himself into the hoard of dead things. Smashing them with his mighty fists and battle axe, he was determined they would know the righteous indignation of the Lawgiver’s displeasure before this day was through.

With the ferocity of wild beasts, the master and his apprentice fought together, determined their end would only come at great cost. Back to back, the two warriors fought with a vigorous strength not found in any force of arms, but only in the clarion call that the righteous cause of defending the weak and smiting evil inspires. As they fought their relentless enemies, time seemed to slow to a standstill.

Battered, bruised, and exhausted from fighting so many, Sir Stouthorn barely had the strength to continue the fight. Looking towards Seafoam, he saw that he was also struggling to keep the dead things at bay. “Lad,” he wheezed. “It looks like our time is here.”

"Never master!” Seafoam replied, smashing a ghouls head in with his trident. “Didn’t you always tell me that a knight of the Lawgiver never gives up, and never surrenders in the face of evil?”

When he heard his page admonish him, he felt his soul swell with pride for his young charge. Offering a prayer to Lord Triton, he raised his axe and smashed it against the nearest creature. What happened next will be forever a mystery, but when he slammed his weapon against his foe, he felt his weapon fill with divine power, before exploding with holy light, and sending out shock waves of purity that cleansed the mine of all its evil.

“What was that?” Seafoam asked, surprised that all the creatures had fallen and had stopped moving.

“Seafoam, I can’t truthfully say,” he said, falling to the ground to catch his breath. “But I’d wager that was a blessing from Lord Triton himself.”

“Well blessing or not,” Seafoam said. “Thank the Lawgiver for small favors. So what do you want to do next?”

“Well dinner sounds pretty good right about now,” he said, wiping away the gore from his face.

With a grin, Seafoam helped his master to his hooves, and they exited the mine together, as they wondered what their next adventure together might take them.

“And so Sir Stouthorn and Seafoam did singlehoofedly save the town of Stableton, from the plague of hungry dead,” Trixie said, ending her magical illusions and taking a small bow. Silently the three Harper’s talked amongst themselves as she awaited their verdict with baited breath. Now granted, recounting this story wasn’t her greatest work, but given who the judges were, she felt the subject matter was more important than her familiarity with the details. As far as she knew, nopony had ever told this tale about Sir Stouthorn and Seafoam before. Everypony always recounted the classic epics, but she hoped this original offering would give her a hoof up on her petition to receive her Harper’s license.

“Trixie Lulamoon,” Clockwork said, motioning for her to step forward.

“Yes?” she asked, hopeful they would grant her petition.

“Your story, though expertly told and wonderfully augmented by your magic, can’t be confirmed to be true,” he said, tapping his hoof against his clipboard. “I’m afraid we’ll have to deny your petition for a Harper’s license this time. Perhaps you’ll do better next year.”

“What!” she objected, unable to fathom why they rejected her tale.

“I’m sorry,” Laguna said, casting a critical eye at her. “Even if they did step hoof in Stableton and investigated a mine there, everypony knows Sir Stouthorn was notorious for over embellishing his exploits.”

“The hungry dead?” Clara Belle added, “Please, everytarus knows they can’t possibly exist. Let’s get out of here and get some lunch.”

Waiting until they had left, Trixie dejectedly exited the auditorium and returned the way she’d came. Pausing to look at Carbuncle’s name once more. She raised her hoof against the empty spot next to his, and whispered, “Master, I promise I’ll make it next year…”