//------------------------------// // Chapter 1 // Story: The Sound of Diamonds // by PropMaster //------------------------------// - Chapter 1 - I awoke to the familiar sensation of warmth as the sun rose and touched my coat with tendrils of gentle heat through the window of my bedroom. I grumbled quietly to myself, rolling over in bed and burying my face in my pillows, trying to return to my dreams. The warm feeling of sunshine on my coat quickly became uncomfortable, and I sighed. I shoved the fuzzy blankets off my reclined form, sitting up slowly and stepping out of bed. I tapped my rear hooves on the tiled floor and ignited my horn, listening to the echo through my new home. I yawned unashamedly, and carefully moved to the adjoining bathroom, guided by the aura of my magic. I paused in front of the sink and reached for the faucets, frowning slightly as I realized I’d forgotten to label them as ‘hot’ or ‘cold.’ I ran a hoof lightly through the water, testing each faucet until I was confident which was which. This was a new house, after all, with new challenges and quirks that I’d have to learn. I ran my hooves under the cool water and splashed my face and horn a few times, washing away the last vestiges of sleep from my brain. I dampened my short mane as well, running my hoof through it and slicking it forward before shaking my head violently, drying it out and allowing it to fall as it may. Appearance didn’t really concern me. I sighed and moved through the house and into the den. Though it had once served as a family area, with a couch and table, I’d had the room redone more to my liking. A single, overstuffed chair flanked a desk with my typewriter located centrally on the desk. Reams of paper sat stacked neatly to one side. The walls held shelves of books, thick tomes of literature, and my collection of vinyl records. I ran a hoof along the spines of my library as I passed, lightly touching my personal copies of philosophy books, varied literature, and—of course—the complete adventures of Daring Do. I paused, trying to remember where the light switch was in the dark, and then shrugged to myself. I trotted out of the den, not bothering to turn on the lights on my way to the kitchen. I opened a door and paused for a moment, letting my sleep-addled mind take stock of what was in front of me. I shook my head, snorting. Storage closet. Not the kitchen. I cantered a few steps left and opened the other door, nodding to myself. The kitchen. This new house’s layout was a little odd, but I knew I’d get used to it eventually. I entered the kitchen and brushed past the cluttered little table set off to the side, pointedly ignoring the dirty dishes that had built up from the past few nights. I opened my icebox, rummaged with one hoof inside, and frowned. Milk. One slice of bread. A single, mushy-feeling piece of lettuce. Four closed bottles of imported cider. I grunted. No breakfast. I nabbed the lettuce leaf, sniffed it, and scowled, dropping it into a nearby trash bin. I winced as it splattered at the top. Garbage was full, too. “I really don’t want to deal with this right now,” I groused and stepped away, my short tail flicking in irritation. I stood in the center of the room, focusing myself and taking stock of the kitchen, allowing myself some additional time to consider my options. A fruit bowl... empty. A pizza box... also empty. My cupboards were bare as well, though I used my telekinesis to open them and check anyway, just in case I’d forgotten something. No luck. There was no choice, then. I was going to have to venture out and get something to eat. I returned to the family-room-turned-study and retrieved my saddle bags from their little custom rack next to my desk. I levitated them on, using my magic to throw the dual bags over my shoulder and secure them to my person. My horn pulsed warmly as I manipulated the item. Satisfied that I was ready, I checked the pouch holding my bits, jingling its contents lightly, and nodded to myself. Enough to get some food, anyway. On my way to the front door, I grabbed my scarf off the coat rack and put it around my neck—my only nod to some level of civility in my otherwise disheveled appearance. I opened my front door and stepped outside, my hooves crunching on the gravel path that led to my home. I inhaled slowly, taking in the early-morning scents of Ponyville, the place that I now called ‘home.’ I shuffled my hooves slightly, allowing the scenery to come into focus. My home was a simple affair, situated near the town’s center. A small picket fence bordered my small lawn in front of my house. The gravel path ended at the cobbled road of the town, and ponies bustled about, their bouncing hooves carrying them about their business. I kept my expression neutral, my ears flicking about for a moment and gathering my senses. I liked the privacy that the fence afforded. Ponies respected the sanctity of one’s property when there was a fence in place to reinforce that respect. They acted, in a sense, as the walls to a castle. My castle. I smirked at the thought, imagining myself in heavy barding beneath a fluttering pennant. I had a holy quest to perform, a singular mission of great import: fill my stomach. I banished the temporary flight of fancy with a snort, and I strode down the gravel path, opening the little gate at the end, leaving the safety of my castle’s walls. My ear flicked left and I agilely sidestepped a slender mare too busy going about her business to notice me. She giggled, and I caught a scent of flowers from her saddlebags. “Sorry, mister!” I didn’t respond, simply continuing on past her. I paused briefly in my trot down the road, getting my bearings. A new home in a new town meant a new place to discover. This was going to be slow going for a while. I inhaled, my ears flicking forward; I could smell something baking. My mouth watered reflexively. Cinnamon, sugar, chocolate, spices, and sweets. The smell of a true bakery. I followed my nose, moving through the streets, until I found myself standing at the doorstep of a large building. I paused, taking in the appearance. Spiraling towers that resembled the frosted toppings of cupcakes crowned the building, and I knew I was in the right place. I stepped inside, sliding out of the way and simply observing quietly as a few customers concluded their business. The inside of the building was close-packed, with a few indoor tables and chairs, most occupied by ponies, creating a seating area. Food sat out in mountainous displays on countertops, and glass fronts hid what was no doubt an even greater bounty behind them. I inhaled the scent of fresh baked goods. Warm dough, vanilla, flour, sugar, and beneath it all the subtle scent of a mare wearing a classy, iris-scented perfume. I smiled and approached the nearest display of food. A chipper voice called to me from behind the counter. “Welcome to Sugarcube Corner! Wh—” There was a gasp, and suddenly I was confronted by a bouncy, curly-maned blur of a pony. “Ohmygosh, you must be new in town, because I know everypony in this town and you definitely are new, because otherwise I’d know you and we’d be friends!” I took a step backwards, startled by the speed she spoke at, my calm morning completely thrown into disarray. “Uh,” was all I managed before the bouncing mare spoke again. “Don’t you worry, mister! I’ve got just the thing for new ponies! I’ll be back in two shakes of a filly’s tail!” I blinked reflexively, and the mare was gone. I turned in a slow circle, trying to discover where she’d gone to, before facing the counter once more. I shrugged, and was about to approach the counter again when the mare returned, wheeling a contraption behind her. Music exploded from the device, pennants waved in random patterns, and in front of all the chaos was the fast-talking pony, dancing wildly and singing at the top of her lungs. Welcome, welcome, welcome! A fine welcome to you! Welcome, welcome, welcome! I say ‘how do you do?’ Welcome, welcome, welcome! I say ‘hip-hip-hooray!’ Welcome, welcome, welcome, to Ponyville today! I winced as confetti and streamers exploded out of the top of the pipe organ device, and found something that smelled like chocolate cake with chocolate frosting thrust into my hooves. I stood perfectly still, my senses slightly overwhelmed, as the mare slid on her haunches to a halt before me, panting slightly from the exertion of her wild routine. I could practically feel her grin, it was so wide. “I’m Pinkie Pie, and I’m your first-ever friend in Ponyville! What’s your name?” I took a step back, still completely unbalanced. “Does everypony in Ponyville get this treatment?” Another female pony’s voice commented behind me, “Yeah, pretty much. At least she didn’t invade your house for a surprise party. Trust me, the ‘Welcome Wagon’ is a preferable alternative.” “Aw, don’t be sore, Twilight!” The mare bounced up off her haunches and onto her hooves, trotting a quick circle around me, scrutinizing me. I frowned, turning to follow her bouncing movements as she gave me a once-over. “So, are you gonna tell me your name, mister new-pony?” I could tell she wasn’t the type to take ‘no’ for an answer, so I sighed. “Lower Case.” “Nice ta meetcha, Casey!” She grabbed my foreleg and gave it a hearty shake, nearly causing me to drop the cake precariously perched in my other hoof. “Just ‘Case,’ please.” I jerked my hoof out of her grasp and quickly moved the cake from my hooves onto my back, balancing it there carefully. “Sure thing, Casey! Hey, you should sit here and talk to my friends! I’ve got some baked goodies to take out of the oven, but I’ll be right back!” I found myself led over to a nearby table and thrown down into a seat, the cake on my back removed and returned in a neatly-tied pastry box that was placed on a chair next to me, and as quick as she’d arrived, the mare was gone; the only clue to her ever having existed was the scent of vanilla frosting and a dusting of flour in the air. I sneezed, my magic aura from my horn flickering briefly. “Bless you.” I turned to look across the table, and found myself confronted by a fellow unicorn with a straight mane. She giggled. “Sorry about Pinkie Pie. She’s very...energetic.” “No kidding.” “I’m Twilight Sparkle. It’s good to meet you.” She nodded my way politely, and I detected the telltale hints of somepony who appreciated books in her scent. Ink, paper, and dust paramount among them. A mare after my own vices, apparently. “I’m Lower Case. If it wasn’t obvious by now, I just moved to Ponyville. Let me guess, you’re the schoolteacher?” I smiled hesitantly. Twilight shook her head. “I’m actually the town’s librarian. Good guess, though.” I nodded, remembering vaguely that there was a library in town. “Ah, I see. I’ll have to come visit sometime.” “Well, we’re open most days! Drop in anytime; I’d be glad to issue you a library card and get you set up with a lending account.” She was very serious about her job, it seemed. I chuckled uncertainly. “Sure thing.” I checked back towards the counter, nervously expecting the bouncing menace to return. “Is she going to be back soon? No offense, Miss Sparkle, but your friend puts me a little on edge.” “That’s all right, Pinkie Pie is a bit of an acquired taste. Everypony eventually grows to like her, but she can go a bit overboard sometimes.” Twilight shrugged. A second mare, sitting at a table across from where Twilight and I were seated, chimed in. “Twilight, that there might be th’ understatement of the century. Pinkie Pie means well, though, mister.” I smirked at the almost stereotypical farm filly accent, and nodded. “I’m sure she does, ma’am.” “Aw, shoot, you don’t have’ta ‘ma’am’ me. Just call me Applejack! Pleased to meet ya, partner.” The earth pony mare tipped the hat on her head to me, not bothering to stand up from her seat. “Charmed, Miss Applejack.” I smiled in as genuine a manner as I could muster, though I could sense the impending return of Pinkie Pie like a gathering storm of confetti and noise. My stomach grumbled, reminding me that I had a job to do, and that it wasn’t likely that I’d be able to have breakfast in peace here. I inhaled the scent of baked goods again, and caught another whiff of the iris-scented perfume from earlier—far stronger now. I focused in on the scent, trying to discern its source as subtly as possible. Another mare, a second unicorn, sat across from Applejack. I smiled at her hesitantly, focusing in on her, before Applejack spoke, interrupting my train of thought. “I think we’d better stow the introductions for now, and let Mister Case leave before Pinkie gets back. He looks more nervous than a sheep in shearing season.” Applejack chuckled. Twilight nodded. “Probably right.” I snapped my thoughts away from the unicorn across from Applejack and stood up, nodding to the two mares and smiling. “Thanks for understanding. Nothing against your friend, but I like my mornings a little quieter.” I trotted out of the bakery, took a quick turn down a side street, and left the bakery and its infernal inhabitant behind. Pinkie Pie seemed nice enough, certainly, but a pony like that should probably be encountered in small steps. Or never. I crossed one establishment off my mental list of “places to go.” I shook my head, sighing, and trotted through the streets of Ponyville, traveling a block over, following a different scent—the smell of coffee. I located the source quickly, entering the small cottage with a sign in the shape of a cup hanging above the front door. The inside of this shop was blissfully quiet. There were a few cushions, couches, and tables scattered around the room, and a large bar flanked the far wall. The place was empty, except for an earth pony mare wearing her mane back in a messy bun standing behind the bar. She gave me a friendly wave. “Hey there, welcome to Java Junction. I’m Mocha Java! What can I get you?” I approached the bar, my hooves clacking gently on the wood floor of the coffee shop. I inhaled the rich aromas of different grounds, sorting them quickly in my mind. “Do you have a dark Griffonese roast?” “Sure do! How do you want it?” “Black and hot, please.” Mocha Java smiled. “Right on! I’ll get that started for you. That’ll be eight bits, please!” I retrieved some bits from my saddlebag and counted out eight for her using my telekinesis. I sat down at a nearby table, sinking into the soft and well-padded couch. I smiled to myself. This was more like it. Friendly employees, a calm atmosphere, and no confetti explosions or musical numbers to be found. Mocha Java hummed quietly to herself behind the counter, and I could hear my coffee begin to percolate. I closed my eyes blissfully and listened to the clink of mug on plate, the wet sound of liquid being poured, and the soft tap of hooves on wood floor. My mug was set down in front of me, and Mocha Java asked happily, “All set?” “Yep. Thanks.” She trotted away, leaving me alone with my beverage. I sipped the coffee, enjoying the bold and rich flavors of the roast, and called to Mocha Java, “Do I smell bagels?” “Sure do!” she replied. “Hungry?” “You bet. One oat bagel, please.” “Absolutely. Three bits for that. You want some jam to go with it?” “That’s okay.” I retrieved three bits from my saddle bag and floated them from my seat to the counter. Mocha Java approached a few moments later with my bagel on a plate, setting it next to my coffee, and returned to her station behind the coffee bar, resuming her soft humming. I grinned to myself. This place was too perfect. Not too busy, not too loud, just enough white noise to be relaxing without being distracting. I sipped my coffee and took an experimental bite of my bagel. The bagel was soft and slightly warm, with plenty of natural sweetness from the oats. I leaned back into the chair, settling down and relaxing my mind. The stress from the encounter in the bakery was bleeding away, and I felt myself calm down as the coffee and bagel settled in my stomach. I closed my eyes, trying to visualize a scene in my head. After all, how often did I find places like this where I could work without being interrupted? The evening was dark by the time Briar Rose arrived before the cave. The wind at the top of the mountain caught the pennant on his spear, stretching out the rose motif for all to see. Shaking the rain from his rusting, plated barding, Rose called out to the cave. “I am here, as you called me, beast. Just as you called my father before me, and his father before him. Come and charge me with my duty.” A massive, serpentine head peered forth from the burrow. Its eyes were the yellow of flame, and its scales the green of the darkest oceans. When it spoke, its voice was as thunder. “Greetings, Knight of the Rose. You do well to answer my call. All those years ago, when I rescued your ancestors and they swore to repay me, I was uncertain of their true usefulness.” “Perhaps, dragon, when my duty is complete, you might call our debt repaid?” Rose asked, hoping that it would be so. The dragon laughed with a sound like boulders falling. “Perhaps, pony.” Clearing its elongated throat, it gestured with a saber-curved claw to the east. “Far and away, three months of travel hence from here, there is a place where the goddesses of the sun and the moon reside. Bring me the crown of the goddess of the sun for my hoard.” Rose reared back and his ears flattened, his mouth opening wide in shock. “I could never do such a thing! To steal from a goddess, no matter how distant, is surely to be the death of me!” “This is the task that has been laid before you, pony. Should you choose not to do it, then there is always the alternative: you will become my servant, to toil under me for a period of no less than fifty years.” The dragon gave a razor smile, and blew iris-scented smoke towards Rose. Rose shook his head. “I am not certain, beast. I beg you, grant me time to make my decision.” I sniffed, my mind drifting out of its reverie. The cloying scent of irises invaded my flared nostrils. I brushed away the offending scent, tapping my hoof against the wood floor with excited agitation. I was on to something! “Very well, pony. You have until the rise of the sun three days from now to make your choice and return with your answer.” Iris nodded, turning— I sneezed, shaking my head and opening my eyes, focusing on my surroundings. The coffee shop was just as perfect, Mocha working quietly behind the counter, but there was something fresh and different. Irises. I scanned the place, turning my head slowly and trying to find the flowers. Instead, I found a slender unicorn mare with a fashionably curled and carefully coiffed mane and tail that bounced as she nervously tapped her dainty hoof on the floor. Her head turned slowly, searching for something. I found myself leaning forward slightly, trying to catch a hint of... yes. Perfume. Specifically, her perfume. I remembered it from the bakery this morning. When she caught sight of me, her eyes narrowed like a hawk in sight of its prey, and she approached me at a bouncing trot. I found myself buried in a field of flowers, drowning in the drooping petals and suffused by their pollen. It was almost intoxicating, and most certainly distracting. I sighed quietly, knowing my focused time considering my work was over, and put a genial smile on my face. She spoke first, her voice carrying the haughty accent of the Canterlot upper-class, delivered in honeyed high tones that gave her a sound that matched her careful appearance. “I’m so sorry to bother you, Mister Casey.” I frowned. Damn that bouncing sugar-rush of a mare. “‘Case,’ actually. Lower Case.” “Oh, I apologize! I couldn’t help but overhear Pinkie Pie—” “Who couldn’t?” “—and assumed that it was your name.” She chuckled gently. “Pinkie Pie is very excitable; I do hope you don’t judge the rest of us on her exuberance?” At least this mare seemed well-spoken. I nodded, forcing a smile. “No harm done, Missus...?” “Miss. Miss Rarity, if you must, but please, just call me Rarity.” She smiled and batted her eyelashes at me. “Sure. What brings you out of the stormy bakery and into the calm waters of this coffee shop?” I inquired, my tone a tad more cold than was probably warranted. “Oh! Of course, yes. You see, when you left in such a hurry, you left your cake behind. Say what you will about Pinkie Pie, but she is the best baker in Ponyville, and a dear friend of mine. Her feelings would have been terribly hurt if she thought you’d left your cake on purpose, so I took it upon myself to deliver the cake to you.” She shifted her position, and I noticed the cake box balanced on her flank. I smiled. “That’s very generous of you to waste your time on me, Miss Rarity.” She beamed in response. “Oh, not at all!” She chuckled gently, betraying the subtle hint of girlishness behind her ladylike appearance. “I’ll admit, it isn’t often that we get new ponies in Ponyville, so I couldn’t help but wish to introduce myself properly. So, you could say my reasons were just the tiniest bit selfish!” I snorted, chuckling. “Sure, selfish it is.” She slid the cake off her back and onto the table in front of me, and took a slow step back. I wasn’t sure what was happening, until I noticed her eyes narrow ever-so-briefly. “I must say, Mister Case, you have good taste in clothing.” I blinked. “What?” “Well, you are wearing a Toity Original Saffron and Mustard Seed Batik Scarf, from his Winter Wear Collection.” She smiled slyly. I coughed, reaching a hoof up to my scarf. “What, this old thing?” She giggled airily. “Oh, come now, don’t be modest. There’s no shame in a stallion taking a little pride in his appearance. It matches your grey coat quite nicely.” I shifted in my seat self-consciously. “Y-yes, it does, doesn’t it?” “Though, dear, and I hope you don’t mind, I think your fetlocks and mane could use a bit of a trim. Long manes and long fetlocks went out of style on stallions last season, I’m afraid.” She lightly reached up, gesturing to a lock of my mane that hung down, tickling my nose slightly. “Oh. Thanks for the tip...” I smiled hesitantly, the corner of my lips threatening to curl downward, and stood up from my seat. “Pardon me, Miss Rarity, but I must be going.” Rarity took a step towards me. “Oh, dear, I’m sorry, I’ve embarassed you, haven’t I?” “No! No, I’m fine, actually. Really. I’ve just got a lot to do, that’s all!” I lied through my teeth. “Well...” Rarity scuffed a hoof on the floor; the least ladylike gesture I’d seen out of her. “You’re sure you won’t let me make it up to you?” She widened her eyes slightly and stuck out her lower lip in what I was certain was a pout. “No, quite all right. Thank you.” I trotted past her, pausing only long enough to retrieve the cake box from the table and perch it on my back. “If you change your mind, I live at the Carousel Boutique! I do hope you drop by sometime! I believe I could fashion you a scarf that matches your mane style a little more elegantly.” I chuckled. As if. “Goodbye, Miss Rarity.” I walked out the coffee shop door and left the iris perfume behind, pausing and carefully getting my bearings once I was in the clean air. I backtracked slowly down side streets, stealthily crept by the bakery, and followed the main road back to my home. I closed the gate to my little picket fence behind me and exhaled slowly. Safe behind the walls again. And, what’s more, I had a free cake for my trouble. I wasn’t certain it was quite worth it, though... until I thought back to the coffee shop; “Java Junction.” That place had been perfect. I could envision myself ensconced there a few times a week, basking in the perfect balance of white noise and ambience. Maybe I’d even drag my typewriter along with me and do a little work there. I’d have to ask Mocha Java about that, but she didn’t seem to be the type of mare to object to a hack writer doing a little typing in the corner. I stepped inside my castle, tapping my hooves reflexively on the tile in the entryway and listening to the empty echo return to my ears. Peace and solitude. No more distractions. I set the cake down on the kitchen table and moved into my den, sliding into my chair and squeaking forward to my desk. I flicked my ears back and ran my front hooves over the keys of my typewriter. I ritualistically tapped the platen knob on the side, shifting it along the type guide to the far side of the page, and then settled back, assuming a pensive position. My horn shivered and warmed to life as I enacted a spell, and the typewriter vibrated in arcane response to my call. I closed my eyes and began to work, visualizing the words in my head, aligning them. My horn pulsed and the typewriter’s keys depressed in rapid succession; far more rapid than my own hooves would have been able to achieve. Words and words and words spooled onto the page at the speed of thought. My story began to unfold once more in my mind’s eye as I worked. A quest for Briar Rose, my newest hero. It was odd to write a stallion, strange as that may seem. For so long, I’d been writing a mare heroine, and I caught myself writing ‘mare’ in place of ‘stallion’ on occasion. Luckily, my spell could erase the ink from a page and adjust the type guide back into position for the rare correction. I chuckled to myself, focusing and letting the magic happen as words strung together into sentences, which built up line by line into paragraphs that unfolded as the page unspooled itself. My spell sensed the oncoming edge of the page and I halted, briefly, as my telekinesis tore the page free. I blew on the drying ink out of habit, even though I knew my spell had set the pigment firmly in place. My thoughts drifted as I set a fresh page and tapped the platen knob, aligning the empty paper to the edge of the type guide. This was going to be different. No more soulless dreck. No more writing to please others. This time, it was all me. This time would be different. The filled page clicked, and I snapped out of my pondering, pulling the paper free and setting it aside. Two pages. I smiled. I had at least ten more in me before I warranted any sort of break. I closed my eyes, letting my chin rest in my hooves, as I drifted into my story to the staccato tapping of the typewriter, my eyelids growing heavy. Briar Rose trotted down the mud-soaked streets of his village, eyes downcast as the rain poured down in rivulets from the peak of his helm. He didn’t notice the wet or the cold, his mind focused inward, pondering his decision. The gentle splashing of delicate hoofsteps gave him pause, and he looked up, halting in his tracks. “Lady Iris. What brings you out into this storm?” Rose asked gently, his eyes softening at the sight of the mare. Lady Iris stepped forward with a coy smile, her curled mane bouncing enticingly. “I was waiting for you.” Rose closed his eyes for the briefest of moments, taking in her blossoming flower scent, and smiled at the attractive mare. “You shouldn’t have waited. You didn’t know that I would be returning.” “I’ll always wait for you, Rose. Even if it is a hundred days that I must wait, I will do it.” Her eyes burned with the promise she had uttered, her stance firm and unbowed by the rain as it undid the careful stylings of her mane and tail. Rose didn’t care. She still looked beautiful...