//------------------------------// // Part 2: Da Capo // Story: Rustic Charm // by Rocktavia //------------------------------// - II - Da Capo <♪♬♪> Just Outside Canterlot's North Gate A tall figure rested his haunches against the monolithic barrier of Canterlot's northern gate, a knee-length cloak concealing all but a quartet of white legs that at the end gave way to a set of steel-grey unshorn fetlocks. Apparently, unkempt hooves were all the rage with Canterlot's mares, and the stallion under that cloak rather enjoyed the company of the fairer sex, and they his. Well, except for... "IN FACT, THE ONLY THING ROYAL ABOUT YOU IS THAT YOU ARE A ROYAL PAIN!" Prince Blueblood shivered slightly in the brisk morning air, if more for the remembrance of Lady Rarity than any actual frigidity. He was just starting to question his reason for coming out here when a triad of shady individuals came into view just down the path. All winged, though not all of them were equines. The group diverted from the main path and walked towards the pristine walls of Canterlot - and towards Blueblood. "About bloody time." Blueblood chided under his breath. *** The leader of the group was a scarred griffon in the employ of an enigmatic individual called Saxon. Nopony knew who he is, nopony's ever seen him. Well, no pony has. Bloodwing, the best griffon mercenary in the land is his number two. He was flanked by two pegasi wearing the blood-red armor of Saxon's mercenary force. Dark ivory accouterments contrasted the vampiric armor. "Bloodwing." "Blueblood. Ze Archon - she is... taken care of, yes?" the griffon interrogated. "The Archon is taken care of. And I might add, without drawing the ire or... attention of the public." "Dot vas not the agreement." "I'm not interested in killing my countrymares, Bloodwing. Only in results. Besides - between the period that her abilities would manifest and she could make it back to Canterlot, your master's plans will already be impossible to stop." "Hyu can guarantee zis?" "But of course. She's gone to a nearby hamlet, about 1 hour's train ride, but we'll have the stations locked down during all of this. I've also taken the liberty of bribing a few of the local guards into keeping a close eye on her." "Hmph." One of the pegasi spoke up. "Well, let me put it this way, Blueblood: If you follow through on this, and keep the Archon out of Saxon's business, then things between you and him will be solid. You'll be free to rule Canterlot as you see fit as we agreed, and we'll preserve the lives of your precious Princesses." The center of attention then returned to Bloodwing. "But. If ze Archon awakens, if she doez anyzing zot is not staying out of our vay or hyu betray Herr Saxon... Zen things between hyu and him.... Not so solid. She vill have to be taken care uff, and hyu will not be immune from... punishment either. Yes?" Blueblood only nodded at the half-blind avian. It's a shame that cellist got caught up in all this. *** Outside the Ponyville Train Station - 4:31 AM Ponyville's streets remained silent, as if a unicorn had conjured some sort of sound-obliterating curse on the sleepy village. The aetheric quiet that currently blanketed the city was no arcane trick, however. Such was, plainly put, the way of things in Ponyville, especially in the early morning. Amid the distinct lack of noise and commotion, a plainly-colored earth pony cellist stood, equally as quiet as her surroundings. Stunningly elegant and refined, she appeared out of place in the otherwise quaint and down-to-earth town. The brisk air proved refreshing for Octavia. It had been a great while since she'd returned to her hometown, and she had forgotten how... charmingly rustic the hamlet was. It wasn't on the main road between Canterlot and Manehattan, and as such saw fairly light traffic on most days. Miss Philharmonica had always stood apart from most other ponies. She wasn't born with a vibrant color nor with a predilection towards ever letting her mane down. Fun and parties, while understood by her, were largely irrelevant. She was born for the snooty upper class. This fact, combined with the Celestia-forsaken hour that it was, was why she was utterly stunned when a familiar pink party planning pony came flying seemingly from nowhere and started singing some sort of upbeat tune. "Welcome, welcome, welcome! A fine welcome to you!" Octavia shook her head back and forth, trying to get her eyes to stop being all... well, the term that came to mind was 'bendy'. Once she was able to refocus on the insane singing pony in front of her, a feeling of rage and grief filled her. "Welcome, welcome, welcome! I say, how do -" "YOU." Octavia noticed that whatever was creating the... music was apparently done for the moment. "Just you? There's supposed to be a do after that! But not like a 'do re me' do, but a high-pitched regular old do! Yeah, that's not how it goes, silly pants! Er, I guess since you're not wearing pants and all then I guess it would just be silly hooves so really why do they say silly pants if it's silly hooves and - " "Shut. Up. But you. I know you. From the gala." "You were at the Grand. Galloping. Gala?!" "Yes. I was." Octavia's voice dripped with more disdain than usual. "It's all I ever dreamed, woo hoo! It's all I ever dreamed, yipee! I'm at the Grand Galloping GalaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAA-" "Did you have fun?! I tried to let everypony have fun! But those snooty upper class musicians wouldn't play any good music and nopony could really dance to that but-" "You want to leave my vicinity, Pinkie Pie. Right now. Lest I do something I regret." "What're you-" The pink mare noticed the anger welling on the broken musician's face and suddenly understood. "NOW." Then Pinkie Pie did something she thought she'd never find herself doing. She lowered her head and backed away from the borderline-psychopathic mare, leaving Octavia to stew by her lonesome. Frustrated and exhausted from the train ride, she dropped her bags and collapsed in the middle of the cobblestone boulevard. So... so very tired. Figuring that she should probably get looking for a job immediately, she picked herself up. Weeping can come later, because right now... She stuffed a golden bit into a nearby newspaper machine that prominently displayed "The Daily Oat" on its facade. "... Right now, I need an opportunity in this community." *** The Apple Farm - Yesterday at 4:37 PM The characteristically stolid Big Macintosh rested on the gaudy couch in the main room of the farmhouse. His back leg rested in a cast on said couch. Again. "Honestly, Ah dunno how ya get so banged up all the time. Do ya just have a love fer gettin' yerself hurt, or what?" Big Macintosh's head bounced up at the orange-coated mare standing atop the centralized staircase. "Nnnnope," came the characteristic reply. "Well, at least Ah've learned t' ask fer help this time around. Ya'll'll be doin' interviews t' hire an extra farmhand. With you outta the picture, we'll need all the help we can get." "Eeeyup. Will Ah be includin' the loft too?" "If that's whatcha think. Ah mean, the rest o' the family's busy tendin' t' their own crops. We can't just ask 'em fer an extra hand." "'Kay." *** Canterlot - The Daily Oat HQ "Yo Four String, we got another last minute ad!" "What kind?" "Uhm... One sec, lemme check the categor- Help Wanted." "Where's it from?" "... Ponyville." Four String resisted the urge to just stab himself with a sharp quill and end this misery. "Stick it with the others, Yup." The frustrated editor sighed, looking up at the precariously tall pile of "last-minute" ad submissions. Can't ponies these days have the decency to meet deadlines? *** - WANTED - Temporary farm hand at Sweet Apple Acres. Reliability and speed a must. Boarding and meals included. Apply at 100 Sweet Apple Lane in Ponyville. There it was. The opportunity. Hard labor on a farm. While it wasn't Octavia's first choice... Nor the second... Nor even the third, it was the best opportunity in the paper. It would be worth a look, at least. *** "Ya don't look like much, girl. The hay are you from, anyway?" "Applejack..." "... Sorry, Big Mac. Ah guess this is why we're havin' you do the interviews." The orange mare huffed as quietly as possible. "Ah'm gonna go and milk the cows. See ya in a bit." With a loud slam of the back door, Applejack was gone. Two earth ponies remained in the house - grey and red. "'Scuse mah sister. She can be a bit judgmental." "It's no problem, sir." "Call me Big Mac." "Big Mac. But to address her concerns - I may not seem imposing, but... I feel I may surprise you." "Uh huh. Have ya ever worked a plow before?" "No sir." "Ever bucked an apple tree before?" "No sir." "Ever done anything related to farmin', at all?" "... No, sir." "Then give me one reason why ah shouldn't jus' show ya the door." "Because I'm stubborn as hay and willing to learn." Even she was surprised at the unrefined answer she gave. "... Well, Ah'll give ya a chance, Miss Philharmonica. A chance. Don't waste it." "I- Thank you, sir. But... may I ask why?" "Fella's prerogative." "That's... helpful." "Welcome."