“Strip.”
“Pardon?”
“Strip,” Rarity repeated. As Joe looked at her she decided to explain. “I can hardly tell what I am working with when you are wearing clothes that baggy and concealing. So strip.”
Joe still hesitated as he stood in the Carousel Boutique, surrounded by dress making mannequins, as that had been the point. They’d been baggy to conceal how out of shape he’d been and he’d kept the baggy clothes to conceal that watching his diet and getting more exercise had worked to correct that. He’d needed the armour to fit but as he was trusting the smith with making that, and the metal for the spear and arrowheads, the shape the smith was making it to was little secret by comparison.
“Strip!”
“Privacy screens?” Joe asked, giving up but hoping for at least that concession.
“Of course,” smiled Rarity, magnanimous in victory.
Once he had helped get those in place Joe began divesting himself, feeling glad that he had washed and changed between the chores at Sweet Apple Acres and visiting Fluttershy. Automatically he folded his shirt and trousers and put them neatly to one side beside his boots. He considered his socks and decided they were best left on just in case he’d created a fresh batch of toe-jam on the fairly short walk, his undershorts were certainly remaining on and…
“Hey!” Joe protested as he noticed the blue glow envelop his shirt and trousers.
“You are not wearing these,” said Rarity from where she had used her magic to whisk the clothes. “Not until they are altered, and… are these hoofprints on the shirt?”
“Pinkie decided to balance on my shoulders, and… I want my clothes back.”
“No,” Rarity said, slipping inside the confines of the screens and not intimidated by Joe’s frown. After having to try to dress Rainbow Dash no funny shaped ‘stallion’ was going to daunt her. “Hmm, quite the difference.”
“I want to see!” protested Sweetie Belle.
“No darling,” Rarity told her sister, seeing the expression on his face, “I think Joe would be embarrassed.”
“I am wearing as much as I would for swimming, more as I’d have taken the socks off,” admitted Joe, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “but I still want my clothes back.”
“No,” Rarity repeated. “So let’s get to measuring.”
“Can I help?” called Sweetie Belle.
“Noting the numbers would be kind,” Rarity replied.
“I meant with measuring.”
“That would require you to come in here.”
“Gaaaaahhh,” said Joe, pinching the brow of his nose.
“So, what do I measure?” Rarity asked, floating a tape measure up to Joe with the power of her horn.
Joe allowed himself a moment of relief that it looked like she was going to use magic rather than her hooves, the inner leg measurement especially would have felt rather gropey in this situation. Then he started making suggestions and to his further relief these made sense to Rarity and the tape measure stretched and wrapped and she examined and called out the numbers.
“Hmm,” Rarity said, looking at the notepad with her sister’s writing and a quite skilled stick figure on it.
“What?” asked Joe.
“Yes, what?” Sweetie Belle echoed, having won the argument about coming inside the screens.
“Are you sure we measured enough?”
“Those are all the ones I can think of for a man, though you might have needed a couple more for a woman.”
“Woman?”
“Mare-Human,” Sweetie Belle explained.
“Oh,” nodded Rarity. Then she looked at Joe. “Why?”
“Ah, well, seems more variety in… er,” Joe paused. “Women have proportionately broader hips for childbirth and different women have different hip to waist ratios, so the hips are measured as well as the waist and chest.”
Rarity nodded. “You said a couple more though?”
For a moment Joe’s mind froze on how he was going to explain boobs and their bizarre prominence both physically and in human society. Then he decided to keep it simple and as it related to dressmaking. “I’ve got… vestigial nipples, and er, female humans have their breasts in the same place, and these are quite… ample… even when they are not nursing or pregnant.”
“How strange,” Rarity commented, blinking a few times.
“So rather than one chest measurement,” said Joe, ploughing on, “it would be two. One around across the breasts and one around just below them so the dressmaker knows what the proportions are. If the woman has a broad back and, relatively, small breasts or is quite narrow chested but buxom...”
“Buxom?”
“Large breasts.”
“Hmm, sounds like something your people have many words for?” Rarity asked, giving Joe a teasingly quizzical look.
“Erm.”
“Sweetie Belle, why don’t you go find your friends? I think poor Joe is regretting that he mentioned ‘women’ needed the extra measurements. Though that is an interesting colour he has turned in embarrassment.”
“Okay sis, but work fast. We want to borrow Joe when you are done with him.”
“Do I get a say in that?” Joe asked.
“I’d feel better if they had some supervision.”
“And you might be able to suggest something for our Cutie Marks,” Sweetie Belle added.
“Some weird human suggestion, eh?” smiled Joe.
“That was how Scootaloo put it,” Sweetie Belle admitted, “but I wasn’t going to say it.”
“All right, seems I don’t get much say in it, so hurry back and save me.”
As Sweetie Belle left Rarity looked up at Joe through her eyelashes. “Am I that fearsome to need saving from?”
“Yes.”
“Oh,” Rarity said, managing to look as if she was hurt but trying to not let it show. Then she smiled. “Good. Now let’s talk styles.”
“Honestly,” said Joe, “I don’t know as much as you probably hope.”
“But humans wear clothes every day…”
“Exactly, so it is routine and mundane. Not something reserved for special occasions or needing special thought.”
“But you do have special occasions?”
“Yes, and I admit there are plenty of humans who do give their clothes more thought even when it is just everyday wear. I’m just not one of them.”
“So much I have been able to tell from you being happy with the baggy stuff,” Rarity reminded him, “but even with that being true you still know what you’d wear if it was a special occasion.”
“True.”
“And what you think you would look good in, or what a female human would look good in.”
“I suppose so.”
“Then let’s start from there. I try to emphasise the line of the neck and flank where appropriate. The heaviness of the skirts depends on how the Mare moves, an athlete like Rainbow would have a light skirt while someone else might have a heavier skirt that can have more layers or decoration without detracting from her movements.”
“Er, yes,” Joe replied. Then seeing Rarity was waiting for more he started floundering his way through another sentence. “That sounds right, if someone is light-footed then better to not hide that grace. And have to consider the curves and keeping them balanced.”
“Balanced?”
“The…erm,” Joe said, making a vague gesture in front of himself. “Make sure the lady does not look too top or bottom heavy, and decide how much to emphasise the narrowness of her waist compared with hips and bosom.”
“Hmm. Do humans have corsetry?”
“Yes, do Ponies?”
“Of course.”
It was Joe’s turn to blink in surprise. “Still, corsets have gone out of fashion in favour of less restrictive undergarments…”
An uncomfortable several minutes of questioning later Joe had managed to dredge up enough about how necklines and hemlines and waistlines had shifted and how the emphasis had changed over time and between cultures that Rarity was willing to let him stop talking. Her questions about why the fashions had taken their various forms had been difficult to answer as, though some explanations had been helped by similarities with what Rarity did, that had also edged the conversation towards a question Joe was trying to not ask himself. Rarity had fallen into a thoughtful silence but Joe’s hope that meant he might get his clothes back was dashed by her next words.
“Enough on female clothing, what about male?”
“Shirt and trousers, like the ones I want back.”
“Like the ones you’ll get back once they are altered, and laundered of the hoofprints.”
“I can do my own laundry.”
“I am sure you can, or you would need more clothes… which you do.”
“Look,” Joe sighed, “I’ll admit they can be closer tailored, as you said, without restricting my movements. But at least when it gets colder I can wear more layers under baggy clothes.”
“Like that quilted vest?”
“That was actually for spreading the weight of chainmail and cushioning impacts.”
“So Sweetie Belle told me.”
“But you were right it would be warm. Though I’d probably have more vests, or some long undershorts, made the same as these shorts. Which I wasn’t expecting to be most of what I was wearing even after the measurements were taken.”
“Patience,” Rarity chided him. “What clothes would you wear, other than shirt and trousers?”
“Not much other than trousers, never been one for shorts or kilts…”
Hoping to at last satisfy Rarity Joe went through the different sorts of shirts, either pulled over the head or buttoned up the front, long or short sleeved, with or without a collar and in what style. Then through jerseys and sweaters and cardigans, V-necks and U-necks and turtlenecks. And coats and jackets and how long coats had replaced cloaks. It was not a terribly coherent account, and he had to keep on giving the disclaimer that most of this had become unisex, but he managed to get her back to a thoughtful silence.
“Interesting,” Rarity mused finally. “Can you sketch a human male wearing a suit?” Joe looked baffled, but did his best, and Rarity nodded. “That does look very similar to what stallions wear on formal occasions, though the tie and collar is different than some.”
“Can make it a bow-tie,” said Joe, sketching again, “and formal shirts can have a collar like this.”
“Oh dear, so if I make you something based on your description and sketches then everypony will think I have just adapted stallion clothing for your shirt and jacket and added trousers. How disappointing.”
“Fortunately there is no need,” Joe said, trying to reassure her, “I don’t expect I am going to any weddings or funerals or suchlike.”
“There is every need, you don’t know what might happen.”
Joe felt a pang of suspicion but rather than voice it he started to talk of older styles of formal men’s clothing. He had to be careful as an important part of a lot of this was the fur trimming that showed the wealth of the wearer but after dismissing those with ruffs and stockings and tight knee breeches he was able to move onto something more useful. Rarity seemed amused when Joe mentioned the period was popular for romantic novels, though she might have been less amused had Joe also mentioned the amount of war fiction set in that period.
“And how were these heroes described in these… romances?” asked Rarity, laughter sparking in her eyes at the source of the information.
“With the historical hindsight they seemed mostly to be following the example of Beau Brummell,” Joe replied. “At the time there were men known as Dandies or Macaroons who dressed very colourfully in clothes festooned with lace and embroidery and layers. Their clothes almost overwhelmed any natural handsomeness and as they tried to outmatch each other their outfits became ever more impossible to do anything but parade in.”
“Interesting,” prompted Rarity when Joe paused.
“And the Dandies and Macaroons didn’t entirely vanish for a while, but you can tell the opinion of people at the time from the fact he became known as Beau Brummell. He pioneered a far simpler more practical style. Take the everyday garb of a gentleman and alter it so it is made in the best quality cloth and cut closer to provide a striking but simple silhouette, though that required the wearer to have the physique and style to carry it off.”
“I am not sure why you are telling me about these then…”
“Eh?”
“It doesn’t sound like you’d want to be dressed as a Macaroon with their concealing garb.”
“True, they were rather garish by my standards, but I thought they’d be interesting as a contrast…”
“And with how keen you have been to keep your baggy clothes it doesn’t sound like you want to have clothes cut closer.”
“I don’t want anything too bright or too tight, yes.”
“Then make up your mind,” Rarity winked. “Either something bright you can hide inside or something a little tighter.”
“I am not wearing the sort of tight trousers they did, but the rest of the style the Beau pioneered is more my preference.”
“Then get sketching.”
“Hopefully while you get sewing, since I am still only wearing my socks and shorts.”
“And I am completely naked,” Rarity said, batting her eyelashes, “care to swap outfits?”
Joe choked. “No. Not got enough socks for you in any case.”
“Then stop complaining.”
With that Rarity left, tossing her head in victory and flicking her tail at Joe as she slipped back out through the privacy screens. Joe sighed and sank down to the floor to sit cross-legged with the pad in his lap. The prodding and measuring had not been as bad as he’d feared but Rarity had more than made up for that with taking his clothes and asking so many questions. All this time he had been worried about being thought a barbarian by speaking with pride of military history and the embarrassment had come from talking fashion and romance while in his underwear.
“Mrow!” something demanded.
Joe looked up from the sketch he’d just finished and met opalescent eyes, which were also Opalescence’s. With the fine instincts of any cat she had realised, despite the concealing screens, that a lap had been created and was being wasted on a mere pad. Wasting no more time she moved across, pushed her head against the pencil to combine a little rub with shoving it out of the way, and climbed on to settle down on top of the pad.
“Careful of the claws,” Joe warned, “I don’t have fur to protect me and thanks to your Pony I’m not wearing trousers either.”
Opalescence gave him a slightly disdainful look at the idea that she needed any advice and that he had not put down the pencil and begun to utilise both hands for their destined purpose. Then she began to purr as the obligatory stroking began around the ears and along the spine and under the chin. Joe winced a few times as his success produced happy paw flexing and that produced the needle sharp claws onto his bare flesh, but so long as she didn’t start kneading his legs he was happy enough.
“Joe? Are you in there still?” a small voice asked as he pondered if he had made enough sketches.
“Still in here and still wearing less than I want Sweetie Belle,” Joe replied.
“What’s your sister been doing?” another voice, recognisable as Apple Bloom, asked.
“Her sister has been asking a lot of questions,” Joe answered for Sweetie Belle, “and I could ask what you three have been doing. I did ask Sweetie Belle to hurry back and save me.”
“Sorry.”
“Pinkie Pie offered us some cake if we told her about the trip into the Everfree,” Scootaloo added.
“Ah, betrayed for cake and Pinkie,” Joe commented with mock sadness. “Perhaps I should demand a penance?”
“A penance?” asked Apple Bloom, briefly peeking through a gap in the screens.
“If Rarity is not back soon how would you three feel about being Cutie Mark Crusader Cloth Cutters?”
“No need to set them on me,” interrupted Rarity, startling Scootaloo away from her turn to peek. A few seconds later a bundle of cloth floated up and over the privacy screens. “Here, see how these fit.”
“Sorry Opalescence,” Joe said, displacing her.
“Opalescence?” Rarity repeated, puzzled until her cat stalked out from inside the screen, annoyed at the loss of the lap and that Joe had moved fast enough to prevent her from settling down on the bundle of cloth instead. Why else would that have been provided if not as a new cat bed?
Joe dressed with great relief and even more as he’d found the folds had not concealed any surprises. Rarity was used to making dresses and using gems and decoration in this so he’d been a little concerned that even when she was restraining herself the outfit would still be too colourful. A few stretches confirmed he still had room to move so he began to put on his boots.
“Fit well, feels comfortable,” Joe called as he tied one bootlace. He’d not tied the second before a privacy screen glowed with Rarity’s Unicorn magic to be slid aside. Joe glanced towards this gap and the four sets of eyes looking at him, five if you counted the glance Opalescence gave him before she began studious paw washing, as he stood on one leg to tie the second bootlace.
“Come, take a look,” Rarity prompted him as he brought that foot down.
“Of course,” said Joe, following Rarity.
The full length mirrors in the Carousel Boutique were less full length for someone of Joe’s height, but that was solved by angling them right and standing a little further away from them. Joe looked at himself and realised he had underestimated Rarity. Working with a body shape that was so unfamiliar to her skills she had managed to produce something Beau Brummell would have admired. The shirt and trousers had seemed normal enough in their design and plain cloth, dark green for the long sleeved shirt and a lighter grey for the trousers, but they somehow gave an impression of balanced power.
“Hmm,” Joe finally nodded, “looks like Rarity deserves her fame and reputation.”
“You like?” Rarity asked, Joe’s several seconds of silence having preyed on her nerves.
“Of course,” smiled Joe reassuringly, “if anything you have done too good a job for work clothes.”
“No such thing as too good a job,” Rarity smiled back in relief.
“How much?”
“Pardon?”
“How much do I owe you? Though saying that reminds me that my pouch of bits was in my trouser pocket, and my keys, and my…”
“Oops,” Rarity admitted, hurrying into the back room. She soon returned with the things she had accidentally stolen floating alongside her.
“Thank you,” said Joe as Rarity stopped and the things continued to him, the blue glow vanishing as he took them. “Now, how much?”
“No charge for that outfit,” Rarity said, “you paid with the conversation. And can pay a little more for the nice suit when I make it…”
“And the alterations to the shirt and trousers you haven’t let me have back?” asked Joe, glad Rarity had remembered his belt. These trousers did not need it to hold them up as they fit him but he did need it to hang his knife on.
“And maybe for the alterations to the rest of your clothes,” nodded Rarity before adding with a frown, “and you are going to have them altered. If you think I deserve my reputation then that reputation deserves to not be dented by the way you’re dressing.”
Joe decided to not thread the belt through the loops on the trousers as that would be tricky without unfastening and dropping them slightly. Instead he just slid the scabbard onto the belt and buckled it around his waist over those loops. “I can wear the good stuff when I come into town and…”
“Or you can have all your clothes be ‘good stuff’ and return to not having to give it special thought.”
“Ah, fair point,” Joe admitted. It would be less trouble and if he was going to always wear the altered clothing into town it made no difference whether that was because Rarity would prefer that or because she’d left him with no clothes that had not been altered. Either way he’d be prevented from letting them assume he was still fat rather than the even falser impression that Rarity’s skills had created here.
“Now I have some work to do and you have some suggestions to make.”
“Come on Joe,” Scootaloo prompted, “before she tries to get us fancied up as well.”
“No need to make it sound that bad,” said Sweetie Bell, defending her sister.
“You mean it ain’t?” Apple Bloom asked.
Joe gave Rarity a sympathetic look over the heads of the bickering Fillies and she gave him a slight nod in reply. Then he started towards the door and, still chaffing at each other, the Cutie Mark Crusaders followed. Outside Joe looked around and tried to decide what to do to help them or at least keep them occupied and out of mischief.
“No ‘weird human suggestions’ are occurring to me,” Joe commented.
“You told him I said that?” Scootaloo protested to Sweetie Belle.
“He guessed that was what we wanted!”
“And then you said that was how Scootaloo had put it,” Joe smiled, “rather than only saying that you weren’t going to say that.”
“Howbout any suggestions that ain’t weird?” asked Apple Bloom, trying to get things back on course.
“Let’s walk,” Joe replied, “see if anything occurs to any of us.”
As they walked Joe tried to ignore the feeling of being looked at. As he’d said to Discord he was used to being unobtrusive, the sort of person who could slip in or out of a room without much fuss, so as friendly as Ponyville was he’d kept his visits rare. For want of a better idea he started to try to figure out what the Cutie Marks on passing Ponies might represent and if that would be something to suggest.
“Hmm,” Joe mused, “I was going to say Ponies have been fortunate in getting Cutie Marks that reflect their names, but thinking of Sweetie Belle’s sister and her friends that seems less true.”
“Rarity’s Cutie Mark suits her,” said Sweetie Belle, sounding puzzled.
“So does mah sister Applejack’s,” Apple Bloom added.
“Oh, agreed. What I meant was their names would still have been appropriate even if their Cutie Marks had been different. If Rainbow Dash had something else on her rear she’d still have her multicoloured mane and tail to be called rainbow, if Twilight Sparkle had something else on her she’d still have a purple coat like the colour of twilight…”
“What about her brother?” Scootaloo pointed out. “How would a name like ‘Shining Armour’ fit a different Cutie Mark?”
“Good point, he is the sort of Pony I was thinking about. Where what they are named and what they do and what their Cutie Mark is are all so linked.”
“Why were you thinking about those ponyfolk?” Apple Bloom asked.
“I do wonder if Shining Armour would have become a Guard if his parents hadn’t called him that, if that prompted his career.”
“Were you going to suggest we did something related to our names?” frowned Scootaloo.
“You are very good on your scooter,” Joe reminded her, “as well as having the name you do, so in a way it is a surprise you haven’t gained a related Cutie Mark. Something to symbolise speed and stunt riding. But that’s something you have been doing.”
“And ah expect mah Cutie Mark will end up being somehow Apple related,” nodded Apple Bloom, “but as you say those are things we have already tried. Even tried making sweets so that accounts for part of Sweetie Belle’s name.”
“What about Campanology?” Joe asked.
“Campo-what now?” said Apple Bloom.
“My name has an ‘e’ on it,” Sweetie Belle giggled, “so Bell ringing doesn’t fit.”
“Oh, that’s what it is,” nodded Apple Bloom.
“And you are sweet and pretty,” Joe smiled to Sweetie Belle. “La petite belle.”
“How come you can speak fancy?” frowned Apple Bloom, remembering when she’d the Cutie Pox and started doing that.
“I can’t, if you mean what I think,” Joe replied, “only know a few words despite…” He stopped, both talking and walking. “Wait, what the…”
“Despite what?” pressed Apple Bloom.
“Despite them being close enough to be in sight across the sea channel between my island nation and where they speak it,” Joe said, sounding distracted as they started walking again. “Did that Pony have a bowling ball on his bum?”
“Sure,” said Scootaloo. “You thinking of going bowling?”
“No, it’s just, I didn’t want to stare at his arse too much but I recognised it as a bowling ball because of the three holes.”
“And?”
“And,” Joe replied holding up his hand and bringing his thumb and first two fingers up, keeping the latter digits crooked rather than forming a V sign, “as far as I’m concerned they are fingerholes. But you don’t have fingers.”
“We manage well enough, even with bowling, without them.”
“That you do Scootaloo, though for a while I wondered if here was even more like a satire than it seemed.”
“A satire?” Sweetie Belle asked.
“There was a set of stories about a man travelling to various fictional places, each of which satirised one aspect of his society. One of those places had incredibly civilised talking horses, with the humans there being even more monkey like than Scootaloo thinks I am…” Joe paused and winked to her as she showed the grace to look embarrassed. “And those talking horses did have fingers, still had hooves but extend something like a hand from the soft part inside their fore hooves.”
“We ain’t got those,” Apple Bloom nodded.
“I know that now, that it is magic, but as you are all so pleasant…”
“Is this why you’ve not said much?” Sweetie Belle asked, giving Joe a concerned look. “Because the humans in that story were bad compared with the horses and you were worried you were bad compared with us?”
“I…” Joe stopped and thought. “I’m not sure. Might have been in the back of my mind somewhere, but I only remember seeing Ponies pick things up with fore hooves and wondering about if there were fingers like the story.”
“Which there ain’t,” Apple Bloom repeated. “And you ain’t that monkey like neither.”
“According to your sister I’m more like a dog.”
“That seems fair,” nodded Apple Bloom.
“Still,” Joe said, “you have tried the things related to your names and not been as lucky as Shining Armour, so what else have you tried?”
With how hard the Cutie Mark Crusaders had worked at this, and how imaginative they had been, the discussion of the list and the few suggestions Joe was able to make of related ideas went on for a long time as they walked. None of the shops or Ponies they saw sparked any ideas and the Fillies began to look a little discouraged as Joe proved more normal than they’d hoped. He wasn’t a Pony so they’d thought he’d think of something a Pony might not. Eventually it was time for the Fillies to return home.
“Sorry girls,” Joe said as they approached a junction. “not had much luck.”
“That’s okay Joe,” Scootaloo reassured him.
“At least we know we ain’t missing something too obvious,” added Apple Bloom.
“Is there a way you can stop a Cutie Mark appearing?” Joe asked suddenly, pulling at his beard in thought.
“Ah don’t think so, once it comes it comes.”
“Hmm,” Joe nodded, “just wondered.”
“Why?” asked Sweetie Belle, as they stopped walking.
“Well, you’re the Cutie Mark Crusaders and you’ve been meeting and doing all these things to try to get your Cutie Marks…”
“And not managed, yet,” muttered Scootaloo.
“But if you do manage, then what? Once you have your Cutie Mark you can’t crusade for it.”
“So… you think we are having so much fun in the trying we ain’t been getting the getting?” Apple Bloom asked.
Joe shrugged. “You said once it comes it comes, but it does seem strange it hasn’t come with as much as you have been trying.”
“I wouldn’t want to leave the Crusaders,” Sweetie Belle said, looking sad.
“Ah, you’d just be ah Cutie Mark-ed Crusader,” Apple Bloom reassured her.
“That works,” agreed Scootaloo.
“Still, you two had better get home and I had better see Apple Bloom back to Sweet Apple Acres,” Joe said, “and see about my evening chores before it gets dark.”
“Thanks for trying to help, Joe,” said Scootaloo, echoed a moment later by Sweetie Belle.
Joe nodded to them and he and Apple Bloom began their walk. Neither said much, though Joe made polite enquiries about how school had gone and what Sweetie Belle had mentioned about them telling their school friends of the trip into the Everfree. It was hard to sympathise about them being disbelieved when that had been a relief, but Joe managed to agree what horrid brats Silver Spoon and Diamond Tiara were before he parted from Apple Bloom at the gates of her family farm. Then he turned back towards his hut and decided to eat first as he was rather hungry. It had been a good breakfast but he’d worked hard in the morning and had not eaten much at midday in case Fluttershy had decided to feed him.
The meal cooked and eaten Joe took the time to weed his vegetable patch before running through some drills with his spear and shield. This took most of the remaining light so he decided to sit against a tree to enjoy the sunset while he sanded and polished at the Manticore scratches on his shield. It had been a day full of questions so it was good it was almost over, after this it was just his exercises and then probably bed. As Joe polished and the sky shaded towards red he wondered whether a thin skin of metal on his shield would be too heavy with how strong it seemed he actually was, and then wondered why it was getting lighter again when the sun was still going down…
“Princess Celestia,” Joe said, usefully informing her of her own name as he scrambled to his feet and then went back to a knee as he bowed to her.
“Joe, sit,” replied the ruler of Equestria, acknowledging the bow with a gracious nod, and then adding, “please.”
Joe was not sure of this as etiquette but was sure it would be ruder to not obey. And had a suspicion that his relief had been misplaced and that there were going to be even more questions asked of him. It seemed strange that he would be any concern of a Sun Goddess but not as strange as it would have been before that afternoon and discovering Discord’s role in his presence here. Celestia settled and looked at Joe for a few moments in regal calmness.
“I have had a letter from Twilight Sparkle,” Princess Celestia informed him, “in which she mentions some frustration with you.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” Joe replied, “though in some ways the feeling was mutual.”
“Indeed,” nodded Princess Celestia, “you were frustrated by her questions and she was frustrated by your attempts to be enigmatic.”
“I might have said more,” Joe admitted, “but I did not want Discord to stop thinking me boring.” He sighed in thought. “Not sure if I want everyone else to start thinking me boring again or not. The last couple of days have been interesting, but hoping someone lives in ‘interesting times’ can be regarded as a curse.”
“And as a curse I do not wish to see inflicted on Equestria.”
“You have a lovely realm, full of generous and kind people.”
“Thank you,” Princess Celestia said, “now, you mentioned weapons and being baffled we do not have them?”
“It seems strange to me that Pinkie Pie has a Party Cannon but your soldiers do not have cannons or other firearms. I had been puzzled by the steam locomotive since some of the techniques honed in making cannon were applied to making engine cylinders…”
“But then you remembered the Party Cannon and decided it was relinquish rather than having invented the one without first inventing the other?”
“It looks like a cannon from a couple of hundred years ago, but that is still hundreds of years after guns began to be used. I could think of reasons why you might have not invented guns, but only inventing a party cannon and nothing else… and of course there are the fireworks.”
“Which can be created with Unicorn magic.”
“And it could be a lucky guess that you knew what I meant by ‘fireworks’.”
“Or, how did you put it, that I have the wisdom and experience being an immortal Sun Goddess gives me. But explain why fireworks are relevant.”
“Firing rockets straight up to make a pretty display was not the first application humans thought of, or if it was we didn’t take much time to start firing them at each other instead. Which is embarrassing compared with you ponyfolk, possibly more embarrassing if it had never occurred to you than if had and you’d given up the military use.”
“It sounds like you know a lot on this.”
“I am hardly an expert.”
“No?”
“No.”
“But you know enough that you are being cautious.”
“I don’t think I know enough to make any difference,” Joe said, “other than to diminish your Ponies’ opinion of me.”
“Perhaps not, but I appreciate your concern for them as well as for yourself. Continuing to be cautious would also be welcome.”
“As you wish, Your Majesty.”
“I do not wish to order you to leave Ponyville,” Princess Celestia continued, “but if you begin to live up to Discord’s expectations of chaos that is one option.”
“I didn’t think I was that bad,” said Joe, “though I’ll be willing to leave if you think that would be for the best for them.”
“Thank you,” Princess Celestia said, rising to her feet and taking off in one smooth motion.
She seemed to recede faster than her wings were taking her and soon Joe was left in the darkness that had fallen unnoticed, by him, during the conversation. This darkness felt more than physical as he’d been regretting the last couple of days but being warned of the chance of exile had underscored how much his moments of weakness in agreeing to help the Cutie Mark Crusaders might cost him. And Joe had noticed that Princess Celestia’s skill with words had let her avoid revealing how much she already knew of what he was saying so he’d not even learned much.
==
The palace balcony brightened as a pinprick of light swelled and Princess Celestia landed on it beside her sister Luna. They stood and enjoyed the night.
“Well?” asked Princess Luna.
“Joe may cause problems, not through his knowledge but because he does regard the world differently. He finds it hard to understand how something can be invented to bring joy without it being perverted to bring pain…” Princess Celestia paused and then nodded. “No, that is not fair. Say instead that he finds it hard to understand why both uses would not occur to us when something was invented.”
“So, what is thy judgement?”
“He was honest with me and that deserves some consideration. We shall allow him to remain where he has settled, for now.”
“Of course you let me remain in Canterlot before,” Discord pointed out, sliding his head out through the door, still attached to the rest of him, “was just you let me remain as a statue…”
“That may be more merciful than exile, even if the exile was not as absolute as mine,” commented Princess Luna, “so long as, unlike Discord, he felt no passage of time. That would remove Joe’s influence and grant us time to try to discover how to return him to his own world.”
“Luna, I want you to investigate his dreams over the next few nights,” Princess Celestia said.
“For what purpose?”
“He has been unsettled again, so see what you can learn. And build on what you did before to aid his taciturnity.”
“I do not think I did so much, but… as thee wish my sister.”