My Little Pony: Amor Esta Magica

by WarThunderBrony

Flotsam and jetsam

I was honestly flabbergasted to find that drugs had been planted in my hotel room in Syldavia. Who the heck would even have the guts to do this to me now?!

“Senores, I have no earthly idea how it got there,” I said to the security officers. “Before you arrest me, could you please check carefully to verify if your claims are true in the first place, por favor?”

An officer took out the packet of pills and put it into some small device he had. Then upon taking out the packet of cocalero pills, he held that same device out to me, saying, “Put your right thumb therein.”

I did as I was told. The officer turned to his colleagues.

“No match, surprisingly,” he said.

“Senores,” I said, “who was the one who told you that I was trafficking in drugs?”

“This gentleman who had just come into the hotel shortly after you checked in,” said another officer. “He had thin silver-rimmed glasses and was wearing a beret on his head.”

That’s him, I thought, that’s Stefan Almaszout. “Senores, that man was my taxi-driver,” I said to the officers. “I do not know who exactly he is, but I suspect he might be an impostor. Do be wary of him if you see him again.”

“Sure will,” said another officer, taking the packet of drugs with him. “Meanwhile we’ll take this packet back for investigation. If we find anything unusual we’ll let you know again. Sorry to disturb your sleep.”

“No problem,” I replied. “Buenas noches.”

Zonked out and pissed off from that startling encounter, my mind wondering who exactly this Stefan Almaszout really was, I took off all my clothes, plonked myself down on the hotel bed, and remembered nothing more within seconds….

RARITY: Our poor bipedal friend Alberto was walking himself into lots of trouble, there could certainly be no doubt about it. All of us in Equestria felt great pity for him and wanted to help him in the best way possible.

I suggested to Princess Twilight Sparkle that the best possible way we could do this was to re-divide the duties accordingly. In my opinion, I felt that the best division of our workload would be like this: Rainbow Dash, Snips, Snails, and Noteworthy would watch Alberto; while Soarin, Derpy, Braeburn, and Shining Armour would keep an eye on affairs back in Bolivia. For myself and Princess Twilight, we would watch out for Huascar Leon, the very one whom we felt could make the biggest difference in Alberto’s life. The rest of the ponies would simply stand by and wait orders.

Princess Twilight was pretty impressed by my idea. “Good,” she said. “It sounds like a good idea. Everypony get to your stuff at once.”

So making use of the portal, I went over to Los Altiplanos del Gran Chaco, Huascar’s residence in the human world. I took the lift up to Huascar’s house, and discovered that his door was ajar. I politely knocked on the door.

Huascar was apparently rushing some work inside at the dining table. “Sshh,” he said, “I’m busy.”

“It’s me Rarity,” I said to him. “Where’s your family?”

“My two youngest sisters are in school,” said Huascar with a sigh. “And my parents are sleeping in the room over there, and as for Valeria — I really could not give a damn what’s become of her now!”

“You mean your oldest kid sister?” I asked, curiously.

Huascar slammed the table and stood up in a rage. “Don’t you ever DARE call that brat like that again!” he yelled. “That cheap woman is NOT fit to be my sister!”

“Calm down, Huascar,” I said. “Let’s talk calmly. What’s happened to her?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” said Huascar. “I’ve given up all hope on her. She’s been cheating so many older men of their money. Now I don’t have my laptop with me today because she took it again just now when I was not looking. Man, I’ll just let her walk this path to her death and be done with it!”

“Er… OK,” I replied, and then went away from his front door down through those lifts. 29 storeys was really no joke, especially for somepony like me who did not know how to exercise magical powers in the human world.

Just then, Soarin came up to me. “Rarity, come quickly,” he said. “Apparently we’ve discovered that Don Francisco is having another extramarital affair!”

I quickly ran over with Soarin to where he’d seen Don Francisco allegedly having an affair. We soon arrived at a pub in downtown Chaco, at the Junction Ocho mall. We could see from outside the mall, via way of a window, that Don Francisco was inside Starbucks having a drink together with Valeria Leon.

“We must intervene,” I said to Soarin.

“Not now,” replied Soarin. “We don’t want to arouse suspicions unnecessarily. It might only put Alberto in worse danger. Besides, we don’t have enough evidence to pinpoint anypony now as it is.”

So we just stood and watched as Valeria picked up her phone, then seemed to say a few words to Don Francisco, and then walked out of the Starbucks. We could see that she was carrying some laptop in her small laptop case.

“Now,” said Soarin. “But don’t be rude. Be polite.”

We walked up to Valeria. “Excuse us please. Are you Valeria Leon?” I asked her.

“Si,” she replied. “En que puedo servirte?”

“May we know who you are to that man?” Soarin asked.

“My brother’s boss,” said Valeria. “Hope that helps?”

“And what were you doing with him?” I put in.

“Five words: None. Of. Your. F***ing. Business,” replied Valeria, very rudely indeed. “Now may I go, por favor? I have a Team Fortress 2 session tonight.”

“Wait a minute, Ms Leon. What is that in your hand?” demanded Soarin, indicating to the laptop clutched under Valeria’s arms.

“Caramba! That’s my computer. Anyone can see that. Now por favor, don’t be such an ass!” cried Valeria. “And one more thing: step aside right this minute, before I call my Papa and tell him that you are harassing me!”

“That is your brother’s computer!” yelled Soarin. “I know he is using an ASUS Core 2 Duo laptop, the very same model you are carrying! Drop it NOW!”

“Soarin! Let’s get out of here!” I cried. “You’ve made her angry enough as it is!”

Valeria Leon said nothing but took out her phone, and I knew that we were going to feel it, so I gave Soarin a kick in his cutie mark and we ran away from Chaco as quickly as we could — out into the countryside between the towns of Chaco and Soledad.

It was already nighttime by this time. We both needed to find the portal, but somehow it was not where we’d expected it to be. So we just made shelter somewhere along the Amazon.

“Looks like we have to sleep here in Earth tonight,” sighed Soarin.

“This is all your fault!” I said to him. “You told me to be polite. And what did you do merely one minute later? Now thanks to you, we’re stuck here in the human world forever, with not a chance in sight to go back to Equestria!”

“Well, she was getting on my nerves!” countered Soarin. “That bipedess IS really a brat as much as Huascar had described her to be!”

“Brat or not, you were still in the wrong to lose your patience at her, and break your own instructions in the process!” I cried. “Face it!”

“Stop squabbling,” came a calm but stern masculine voice from behind us. We turned and saw two men, clearly apparitions (because of their unusual luminance in the night), standing before us. One was a lanky six-footer, who wore an old-school Anglo-Saxon crown and had long blond hair and a short white beard; the other was short and stout, and wearing a wig and a typical 18th-century British army uniform.

We recognised the two apparitions immediately — respectively, they were King Arthur (the legendary British king) and Prince Frederick (the so-called “grand old” Duke of York, the second son of King George III of the House of Hanover and former Commander-in-Chief of the British army, known to his closest friends as “Duke Freddie”) , Englishmen who were two of the most famous horsemen in the history of the human world. Princesses Celestia and Luna had taught us many years ago that these two bipeds — and all their offspring too — deserve all our respect, whether living or dead, because of their glorious past history with our quadrupedal equine race.

Soarin and I fell on our knees. “Your Highness and Your Honour,” we said in unison.

“You may get up,” said King Arthur. “Now the two of you, listen to me. Don’t need to take matters into your hands like that. You had no right to disturb the poor girl. Do you know that she’s now crying because you just ruined her day?”

“Allow me to cut you there, Your Highness,” interrupted Duke Freddie. He turned to us. “We know you’re trying to help a guy called Alberto, who is now in Syldavia. Do you know who he is?”

“Er… who?” I asked.

“For your information,” said Duke Freddie, “he is my descendant on his mother’s side.”

“You — Alberto’s ancestor?? Yeah right!” said Soarin, scornfully. “His mother’s an Amerindian. How could she possibly have an Englishman like you for an ancestor?”

“Shut up, Soarin!” I said, nudging Soarin in his flank.

“May I continue?” said Duke Freddie, calmly.

“Please do,” I said. “Sorry about that.”

“Right,” said Duke Freddie. “Now listen carefully please. His Highness and I, we have every intention of helping Alberto. We know where he is and we will be paying him a visit later in the week, won’t we, your Highness?”

“Yeah,” replied King Arthur. “We have informed your big boss, Princess Celestia, that we are going to pay Alberto a short visit. In doing this, we hope to make your duties much lighter. Like you, we feel that he needs a great deal of help. Meanwhile, these are our orders to the two of you: Go back to Equestria, and tell Snips and Snails to go right over to Syldavia. Alberto will have assumed a new identity by the time they find him; they will find him in a small field in the countryside. Tell them also that this is a telegram for them with important instructions.” He handed me a parchment.

“Now go,” said Duke Freddie. “And please, don’t disturb innocent human girls anymore. This is an order.”

“We can’t,” said Soarin. “We need a portal!”

“No problem!” replied King Arthur. He snapped his fingers, mumbled something under his breath, and the portal was there. Then he and Duke Freddie disappeared, as though they had never been there in the first place.

We walked through back to Equestria to tell Her Highness Princess Celestia what we had just seen….

ALBERTO: The city life of Klow was way too much for me to take. I decided to retreat into the countryside of Syldavia and assume a new identity — I have no idea why, but something was telling me that the “Stefan Almaszout” taxi driver was an impostor, and that this land might be filled with impostors, especially in the city.

I soon found a quiet place in the Syldavian countryside, far away from the nearest city or town. I set to work and built myself a house, and began growing my own food. Indeed, as a herder by my Aymara cultural heritage, it was hard for me to become a farmer that grew and ate only subsistence vegetables — considering my carnivorous diet.

I even took on a Syldavian name — Hans Sporovitch. This would be the name I would go by, hopefully it would make the real me more inconspicuous.

It was during this time that another young farmer settled nearby me. This young farmer seemed rather soft-spoken and appeared to have a rather nice disposition. However, initially due to my reservations, I did not say very much to him.

Then the day came when I heard shouting coming from his end one night while I was just going to sleep. It sounded like he was having a fight with someone. I looked outside my window and saw him face to face with a strange man, who was clearly intimidating him.

“Well! I did! And I was just about to make away with that guitar, when YOU came in and ruined everything!” the stranger was shouting.

“Well, sir, it isn’t exactly your guitar either,” replied the young farmer.

“EXCUSE ME?” the stranger demanded, raising his hand at the farmer. “It’s as good as mine, and you know that! You really are a hopeless case, Timmy Garcia. It’s no wonder that you have to farm the countryside in this really desolate land as part of your (expletive) syllabus!”

I decided that the time had come for me to intervene. I marched up to the stranger and grabbed his arm. “Let him go now!” I screamed. The stranger let go of Timmy Garcia and then turned on me. “Who are you and what business is this of yours?” he snapped.

“I want you to say sorry to him,” I said, giving the stranger a severe glare. “I want you to say sorry to him!”

“No!” yelled the stranger. His voice sounded very familiar; I just could not put head or tail on where I had seen this stranger before, and besides it was quite dim so I could not see his face that clearly; but he DID sound familiar.

We got into a bit of a brawl, culminating with me grabbing the stranger by the neck. “Say sorry to him!” I yelled.

“S-s-sorry!” stuttered the stranger. I let him go in a huff and walked up to lend a hand to Timmy Garcia, the poor young farmer, my new neighbour.

“I can’t believe you actually did that,” said Timmy Garcia.

“Well, I couldn’t just stand there!” I explained my position.

“My friend, do you even know who you were messing with in the first place?” said Timmy Garcia, in a highly concerned tone. “No-one I know ever dares to talk that way to Stefan Almaszout.”

I was shaken out of my reverie at that name. “Stefan Almaszout??”

“Yeah,” said Timmy. “He’s a rich landowner in these parts. And this is part of his tea plantation here in Syldavia. As part of my curriculum for the biology course in Klow University, I had to work part-time this term on his plantation.”

Hmmm. Taxi driver turned rich landowner. And only in, like, a few days. How the buck could that be humanly possible, apart from either a successful bank robbery attempt or a lottery strike??

“You mean you know him?” went on Timmy.

“Well…. kind of,” I said. “Wait a minute. You just said that Stefan Almaszout is a supposedly rich landowner, is he not? How come I’ve seen that his look does not look very familiar to so many people?”

“Not surprising,” said Timmy. “Stefan Almaszout is the kind of person who loves to spy on people, especially those who work in his territories. Sometimes he goes there recognisable; sometimes he goes in disguise, in most such cases as a nameless stranger — and not even the managers he employs can recognise him.”

This person is clearly much more mysterious than I thought, I said to myself, putting two and two together — could it be that the hotel I stayed in was also registered under HIS name??

“He must be a pretty prestigious person,” I said.

“He is,” said Timmy. “He has in fact been given a peerage title by King Muskar XII, our monarch. He holds the title of Baron Almaszout of Klow. By the way, I didn’t get your name yet?”

I hesitated for a moment before speaking. “My name is Hans,” I said. “Hans Sporovitch. I’m… er…. a farmer who…. raises horses.”

“Indeed!” said Timmy. “You seem new to these parts. Where are those horses of yours anyway? You’ve been next door to me for some days now and I haven’t seen anything except a field of weeds….”

Now he had got me there. But I took a deep breath and thought of the most practical answer. “Er…. I only moved in a few days ago, didn’t I?” I said. “The horses will be in in a couple more days. Believe me there.”

Timmy and I grew to be close friends. I soon discovered that, like myself, he had some uncanny musical talent on the guitar, as well as the ability to sing harmony. I bought a Hofner bass guitar at the nearest pawn shop and within days, we were jamming together.

After one jamming session, Timmy and I were chatting in my farmhouse over cups of mineral water. “Hans,” said Timmy, “do you know much about this place we’re living in now?”

“Nope,” I said.

“In case you don’t know, this place is part of the vast countryside that borders Borduria,” said Timmy. “This vast desolate valley has often been referred to by local folks as the ‘Passionless Valley’, due to its desertedness. Unusual plants that are believed to produce intoxicating effects, have been found therein. Various really expensive building projects had been carried out years before, but no-one came to stay in the condominiums that were built. The Syldavian government lost lots of money thereof. Rumour has it that this entire valley is haunted.”

“Indeed,” I said. “I don’t believe it. For me personally, I could not have had a more peaceful time in my life, after all I’ve been through.”

“Well, for one thing, have you considered that the reason why your horses haven’t arrived until now, could be because of the fact that this valley is haunted?” said Timmy, looking serious.

“One question,” I said. “Is the rest of this valley part of Stefan Almaszout’s territory?”

“Of course not,” replied Timmy. “Everyone is generally scared of living inside here, and would not do so if they could help it. I’m only here because it’s part of my university course. And this particular estate was acquired by Stefan Almaszout for his plantation — but it is only less than one per cent of the entire Passionless Valley.”

Hmmm, I thought, it’s time for me to do some exploring. “Very well, thanks for telling me,” I said. “I don’t believe that no-one else lives in this valley. And I don’t believe that this valley is half as ‘passionless’ as they claim it to be. I’ll be on my way to scout out the entire place.”

“Take good care of yourself,” said Timmy, as I stood up and went on my way.

The scenery was just beyond compare. While exploring this place, I stumbled upon a very unusual plant. This plant resembled a windflower in most aspects, but its flower had a mouth that would open at will. And no, it did not talk; it opened only to disperse its seeds. Thijavascript:void(0);s was a very unusual plant, I said to myself as I went up to one such plant to sniff its flowers.

The scent was just so beautiful that I got high upon sniffing it… and within seconds I remembered nothing more.

SNAILS: Alberto was surely walking himself on a one-way ticket to hell. Why he relocated to Syldavia like that just because of a mere dispute with his wife, I don’t think we will ever know.

Snips and I were secretly observing him distantly. Escaping from Klow, taking on the fake alias of Hans Sporovitch, and becoming a farmer in — of all places — Passionless Valley. We were also aware who this “Stefan Almaszout” really was — it was none other than 20-year-old Ramon Prada, a Chacoano and one of the All Lee Enterprises top managers. Ramon was also the heir to the Prada Tea Plantation ownership, and had essentially become the boss ever since he had been orphaned at a young age.

It was really very interesting — to me and Snips at least — as to how our poor bipedal friend was perpetually getting out of one trap and falling into another one. This one was, from what I gathered, to be even worse; indeed, I was already fully aware as to who the big boss of Passionless Valley was. While he was not one of the All Lee managers, he was certainly equally evil; his name was Wladimir Dbrnouk, and he was known for being a womaniser as well as extremely strategic at planning defences. His home was right smack in the heart of Passionless Valley, surrounded by canyons that were already reminiscent of the Grand Canyon, if not as humungous. Wladimir Dbrnouk was also a sadist; he had his own slaughter house right next to his residence, where he slaughtered the most unlikely of animals for his own appetite — dogs, cats, rabbits, and even our own equine kind. As you can see, because of that very reason, the very thought of Alberto going into Passionless Valley already was making all of Equestria tremble with fear.

So we continued to follow Alberto secretly, hoping he would not do anything foolish. But Snips had a better idea. “I’ll follow Alberto,” he said. “You go after Ramon Prada. Check on what he’s up to.”

I took my good friend’s advice and secretly followed Ramon Prada. I discovered that he was now based in Klow, and was indeed extremely rich — he now had a mansion called Almaszout Manor, and he was also a peer of the realm, with the title of Baron Almaszout.

That day however he was in a very bad mood. Apparently he was very upset over a “funny stranger” who had come and upset him while he was checking on his plantation — which I believe was the part where Alberto was currently living, that small section of the Passionless Valley. And it so happened that Alberto, ignorant of the circumstances, confronted him at that very moment. And now Ramon Prada was even more mad.

Snips later came back to me and passed me some news. “Alberto has passed out halfway along the valley!” he cried. “In the very part where grow the Love Poison flowers!”

I was shocked beyond words and followed my best friend to find Alberto. But by the time we got to the place where Snips claimed to have seen Alberto, we discovered that there was no-one there.

“He’s been abducted,” said Snips. “Pretty obviously so. I don’t know by whom though.”

“Ramon Prada?” I guessed.

“Not likely,” said Snips. “Ramon Prada does not come into the Passionless Valley very often. Not especially to the part where these Love Poison flowers grow. Their scent, if inhaled strongly enough, can cause one to pass out.”

“Still, we’ll have to save him nonetheless!” I said. “Let’s bossa nova all the way up to him!

And so singing, Snips and I galloped off down the fields to look for Alberto.

ALBERTO: When I came to, I found myself lying on a bed in some rich-looking Syldavian room. It was clearly the room of some rich person. I remembered clearly that just before that I was in the fields of the Passionless Valley, exploring and admiring the scenery — and the last thing I was conscious of was my sniffing some windflower-like plant and enjoying its beautiful scent.

Had I really passed out thereafter? And who could be the person who had such a heart as to rescue someone like me? I didn’t know then.

But within a couple of minutes the room door opened and a middle-aged man stepped in. On first impressions he seemed rather nice.

“You’re safe now,” he said. “You passed out halfway in the Passionless Valley. But I happened to see you and saved your life. Had I not done so, you’d have been poisoned by the seeds of the Love Poison flower.”

“Who… are you?” I asked.

“Me llamo Juan Garcia,” said the man. “I don’t know why, but I seem to have seen you somewhere before, boy. What’s your name?”

“Alberto,” I replied. “Alberto Garcia.”

“Sounds very familiar, that name,” said the man, giving me a look in my eye that somehow triggered some inexplicable chemistry in my subconscious mind. “I remember I had a …. wife, who bore me a son….”

“PAPA?!” I gasped.

“My Alberto!” cried the man, hugging me. “Papa missed you so much!”

I hugged him back. But there was something so drattedly cold about this man’s embrace. I was starting to have reservations about him. Why did he have this …. er…. cold and sinister air about the way he spoke? And was he really all he seemed?

“Papa,” I said to the man, “how have you been? Do you know how many years Mama and I have been waiting your return?”

“Alberto, my son,” said the man, his smile vanishing suddenly, “you are now safe here with me. Can you promise me one thing — forget your past and start afresh here in Syldavia with Papa?”

“That’s strange,” I replied, “but this is the first time ever in my life that I don’t feel good being with you….”

Just then, the room door opened again. “Lord Wladimir!” said a manservant, looking in. “Young mistress Lisa needs your help!”

The man turned around when the name “Wladimir” was called. “Szplug!” he cried. “What does the stupid girl need this time? Tell her I’m coming in a minute!” He slammed the door in the servant’s face.

I now knew that this man was a confidence trickster of some sort. “Stop!” I cried. “You are NOT my Papa! Who are you?! Speak now!”

The man grabbed me by my hands. “Don’t move!” he cried. But I managed to break loose. Within seconds, Wladimir and I were engaged in yet another brawl.

Seeing a loophole, I hopped out of the nearest open window, not caring whether I would break my neck…. and I landed right smack on the grass in a garden of this huge mansion which somehow seemed to exist in the midst of all the greenery in this yet unchartered area of Syldavia.

I saw a young girl sitting in the garden. “You ok?” she asked me.

“I’m fine,” I said. “My name’s Alberto. You are…?”

“Lisa Dbrnouk,” she said. “What did my dad do to you just now? Sounds like you got into some brawl with him.”

“Wladimir is your papa?” I asked her.

“Yeah,” she replied. “That window where I saw you jump out of, was that of his bedroom.”

“Wladimir lied to me,” I explained. “He told me he was my papa. I was somewhat taken in but I suspected something was amiss all along when he told me to ‘forget the past’ and all that.”

“He tells everyone the same story,” said Lisa. “That’s how he acquires all his servants. To me they’re all but dicks. Mama died of cancer when I was very young, so I was brought up single-handedly by Papa. He never allowed me an ounce of freedom all my life.”

I felt great compassion for Lisa Dbrnouk and held her tightly to me. “Don’t worry,” I said to her; “you’ll be safe here with me.”

“Not for long!” came a familiar voice from behind. We turned and saw Wladimir Dbrnouk behind us with his army of henchmen, all armed with sniper rifles.

“Come back with me!” ordered Wladimir, who with the help of his henchmen, escorted us all back into his study, deep inside this mansion.

“Now explain what is the meaning of this!” roared Wladimir, slamming his desk in exasperation. “What were you doing with my daughter?”

“Senor, what right have you to demand this of me?” I countered. “Do you yourself know what you did to your own daughter? And how she feels about you?”

“SHUT UP!” screeched Wladimir. “Answer back one more time and I will punish you so severely you’ll wish you had not been born!”

“Daddy, STOP!” yelled Lisa. “That’s not the way to treat somepony like Alberto! What has he done to you I wonder?!”

“Even my own daughter is for Alberto!” growled Wladimir. I heard a clicking sound. Suddenly, the ground gave way beneath Lisa and me; the two of us started plummeting, with the eerie laughter of Wladimir Dbrnouk gradually fading out in the background….