//------------------------------//
// Chapter XV 
// Story: The Prince and the Workhorse 
// by fellstorm 
//------------------------------//


The Prince and the Workhorse


Part XV


Tombs finished the washing up and started on preparing lunch for everypony. The Prince and Big Macintosh would have big appetites when they got back, and Applejack might be joining them as well if she didn’t take lunch at Buttermilk’s farm. He tossed a large salad with tomato and cucumber, clucking his tongue that the Apples didn’t keep mozzarella in the house. If he started a spinach pie now, would he be back from Ponyville before it finished? Better not chance it. He went out to the apple cellar and brought up two bushels of apples, instead. It would be a cold lunch, but refreshing after a hot day in the field.
He turned down all the beds and gathered up Big Macintosh’s linens to be washed so that his germs wouldn’t fester and reinfect him as he slept. Granny Smith was up and about when he got back inside.
“This is all mighty kind of you, sonny,” she said “Ah hope yer not doin’ this because Applejack told ye you gotta work t’ earn yer keep. Yer a guest here.”
“It is nice to be appreciated, madam, but my master is the guest here. My duties don’t stop just because I’m in somepony else’s home.”
“That’s good. Plenty of hard work helps ye live longer, but get too much and ye’ll work yerself to an early grave, young’n.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Smith. I shall bear that in mind.”
“Don’t be so formal, call me Granny!” she cackled.
A lot of conflicting thoughts rose up inside of Tombs upon hearing those words. Everything in his professional training taught him to stay formal, but on the other hand, one “Pinkie” situation was enough. Better not chance it.
“Thank you, Granny.”
“Whuzzuh?” she mumbled.
Tombs smiled and finished tidying up around the house. He had business to take care of down in Ponyville today, and the morning was getting on.
He changed into traveling clothes, a durable tweed jacket and twill shirt. He hiked up his cuffs to protect them from the dust of the road and set out for Ponyville.
He was looking for Rainbow Dash. He hoped to run into her, but he suspected the best place to start was the local Weather Office. Like most Equestrians, he knew Rainbow Dash as one of the six ponies who’d saved Equestria, but seeing her from a distance during an awards ceremony and knowing where she lived or how to get in touch with her was a horse of a different color. Even if Rainbow Dash didn’t work for the Weather Patrol directly, the Weather Office still kept a file of all the names and addresses of Pegasi in the district.
Pegasi were a close-knit group of ponies as a whole, with a much stronger sense of esprit de corps than Earth ponies or even Unicorns. The fact that Cloudsdale, the cultural and historical center of the Pegasus race, was almost entirely inaccessible to Earth and Unicorn ponies was a large contributor. They swore fealty to Princesses Celestia and Luna, but in many respects Cloudsdale was an independent city-state, and the Mayor of Cloudsdale was a highly influential position held in high esteem, even among the nobility. They stuck together and wherever they went, they were on call and had to register with the local branch of the Weather Bureau.


***

Tombs found the Weather Office on a side street just off the town square. A windsock drifted lazily on the roof next to a twirling anemometer. On a flagpole next to the door, the Stars and Wings flapped proudly beneath the Equestrian national flag.
Inside, the cramped office was made even more so by the imposition of several large filing cabinets, overflowing with forms, records and outdated charts. The room smelled like a combination of old paper, dust and correcting fluid. A large map of Ponyville County, wrinkled with humidity and scarred by decades of thumbtacks dominated the wall behind an old wooden desk where a single, fat Pegasus snoozed in a creaky wooden office chair.
Tombs cleared his throat to make himself known.
The fat Pegasus started awake and grumbled, looking around deliriously for the source of the disturbance. He spotted Tombs and sat up, wiping a smear of orange Cheez dust from his mouth with the back of his foreleg.
“Urghhrr,” he mumbled “How can I help you, sir?”
“I’m looking for information on a Pegasus by the name of Rainbow Dash.”
“Rainbow Dash?” the fat Pegasus blinked “I thought everypony knew her. She’s the one with the rainbow colored hair.”
“Thank you. I require her address and any other records you may have.”
“I can give you her address, but her service record isn’t open to the public.”
Tombs smiled.
“Of course. I fully understand. After all, you can’t be expected to keep track of everything.”
The fat Pegasus nodded and leaned back in his chair. Tombs’s words sank in and he did a double take.
“Waitaminute!” he said, sitting up “Whaddya mean ‘can’t keep track of everything’?”
“Well, my good pony,” said Tombs, looking around at the general disarray “Nopony cares about all this stuff. It’s completely understandable if a few things slip through the cracks. Who’s going to miss a memo or a service record if it disappears into the pile? Incidentally, can I get your name?”
“Steeplechase…” answered the fat Pegasus, warily “And I never said I lost nuthin’… Who are you, anyway?”
“Nopony in particular,” answered Tombs “I work for the Palace.”
Tombs flipped open a small notebook and scrawled something inside. Steeplechase was looking more alert every second.
“You didn’t tell me you worked at the Palace…” he said, watching Tombs closely “I don’t suppose you’ve got a badge or nuthin’?”
Tombs opened his jacket and produced his identification papers from his billfold. They were stamped “Regal Clearance” with a very fancy gilded seal.
Steeplechase rumbled his throat and pretended to consider the papers very carefully. “Regal Clearance” might have sounded dreadfully important, but really anypony who had access to the Royal Apartments carried the same stamp. Tombs shared RC status with about three hundred other ponies, from the Praetorian Guard that surrounded the Princesses down to the maids who washed the royal linens. Of course, Steeplechase didn’t know that. All he saw was a big, shiny seal.
“I guess it wouldn’t hurt if you took a look,” said Steeplechase.
He got up from his desk with a fatty grunt and trotted over to a nearby filing cabinet. He pulled open the drawer marked “Q-Z”, drew out a thick file, and spat it onto the desk.
“There ya go,” he said.
Tombs thanked him. Steeplechase nodded and trotted out of the office for a smoke, grumbling to himself.
“I didn’t lose nuthin’” he muttered.
Tombs flipped open the file. An outdated photo of a grinning, juvenile Rainbow Dash was paperclipped to the front of a sizable stack of papers. Tombs flipped through them. He raised an eyebrow, impressed.
Miss Dash was apparently not just a member of the Weather Patrol, but actually Ponyville Weather Captain. Impressive for one who was not only so young, but also discharged from the Cloudsdale Flight School for “reckless behavior.” She’d certainly had a rollercoaster career, which explained how a pony, twice decorated with the Legion of Platinum for heroic bravery, was still only a small-time cloud-wrangler in a backwater burg like Ponyville.
She’d applied to and been rejected by the Wonderbolts every year for the past five years. Each time failing the prescreening process because of her fight school record.
She was, by all accounts, an excellent flyer, but her personal conduct made her a risky bet.
She was quick-tempered, brash and egotistical with a strong competitive streak that stuck out even among the hyper-competitive Pegasi.
So, the best way to get to her is through her pride. thought Tombs.
That would have to do. He closed the file and left it on the desk.
Tombs passed Steeplechase as he left.
“Thank you very much, Mister Steeplechase.”
“’Tweren’t nuthin’”
“Now, if you would be so kind, where might I find ‘number one, Cloud Manor’?” asked Tombs.
Steeplechase stuck his hoof out and pointed at Rainbow Dash’s house, hovering over the other edge of town, visible for miles.
“Of course, thank you very much.”
“Mruh,” grunted Steeplechase, spitting the butt of his cigarette on the ground and going back inside.


***

As Tombs made his way across the square, he was so busy watching the skies for Rainbow Dash, he didn’t even see Pinkie Pie until she was practically on top of him.
“Hello, Pinkie.”
“Hey Tombs!” she grinned as she skipped alongside “What’cha doin’? Did you come into town to hang out with me?”
“I was actually looking for Miss Dash, have you seen her?”
Pinkie looked around, up in the sky, across the square, and even checking underneath Tombs’s jacket.
“Nope. Why’re you looking for her? Are you playing hide and seek?” she asked, bouncing with excitement.
“I’m afraid not, I was hoping-”
“That’s too bad! Of course, if you were looking for somepony to play hide and seek with, I’m always up for a game!”
“I appreciate the invitation, but I’m not here to play hide and seek.”
“Oh, what game are you here to play? Is it tag?” she grinned again, fluttering her eyelashes hopefully.
“I’m not here to play games at all,” said Tombs “I have important business.”
Pinkie nodded.
“Of course,” she said “I understand. I guess I was just confused by when you Pinkie Promised to hang out with me today.”
“If you recall, I didn’t say ‘today’ I said ‘later’.”
“It’s later now, silly!” she laughed.
“Be that as it may…”
“Are you going back on a Pinkie Promise?” she asked, her face suddenly stern.
“No, I simply-”
“Good!” she grinned “Ooh! We should go hang out at Sugarcube Corner! It’s my favoritest place in the whole world! That’s why I live there!”
She bounced off. Tombs hesitated. Pinkie Pie looked over her shoulder and gave him the stink-eye. He sighed and followed.


***

        The bell over the door jangled as Pinkie trotted into Sugarcube Corner. Mr. and Mrs. Cake were behind the counter, restocking the lollypops.
“Hey Pinkie Pie, hey Mister Tombs!” greeted Mr. Cake.
“Good afternoon Mrs. Cake, Good afternoon Mr. Cake,” Tombs doffed his cap.
“Tombs and I are going upstairs to play,” said Pinkie Pie, skipping past the counter.
Tombs smiled, sheepishly.
The Cakes smiled and averted their eyes.
“Ooh, well that’s nice, Pinkie,” said Mrs. Cake, very focused on arranging the lollypops just right.
“Yes, uhh… Make sure you leave the door open a crack…” said Mr. Cake. Mrs. Cake elbowed him and he coughed, straightening his bowtie.
“Uh huh…” said Pinkie, taking the stairs two at a time. Tombs tiptoed up after her. Mr. and Mrs. Cake pretended he was invisible.
Pinkie’s room was up two flights of stairs, inside the wooden cupcake at the top of Sugarcube corner. It was… festive. A cluster of balloons floated from one of her bedposts and a light powdering of confetti and glitter covered the floor like multicolored snow. An umbrella stand in the corner held a trio of giant lollypops and the smell of sugary confections saturated the room like sticky syrup. In spite of all this, the room was otherwise surprisingly neat. The bed was made and her clothes and belongings organized in their proper place.
“So, whaddya want to play?” asked Pinkie Pie, nudging the door closed until there was only a hairsbreadth of daylight between it and the frame.
“Well, I don’t have a lot of time…”
“We could play Boggle!” she grinned “Or a round of Grid-Based Game that Resembles but is Legally Distinct from Battleship”
“No, Pinkie…” said Tombs.
“Aww! GBGRLDB is the best!”
“Pinkie!” Tombs raised his hoof to silence her.
“Yes, Tombs?”
He sighed.
“What do you want from me?” he asked.
“I was hoping we could play and hang out, silly!” she smiled, balancing on her hind legs and gripping the box for GBGRLDB between her forehooves.
“You know what I mean. Why did we sleep together?”
Pinkie Pie’s broad smile eased a little, but remained.
“Well, because,” she said “Everypony needs friends.”
“I have many friends, Pinkie…”
“And some ponies need special friends… Donkeys too, I recently learned.”
Tombs opened his mouth, but Pinkie was still talking.
“And, sometimes, I need somepony to be an extra special friend to me,” her eyes flicked up to his. They were big and wide and blue. Tombs took a deep breath.
“I can think of a few games we can play…” he said.
Pinkie clapped her hooves together.
“Ooh! Please say Bingo, please say Bingo,” she squealed.


***

Twilight Sparkle was still despondent. Spike tried to cheer her up by asking about her views on the latest advances in modern magic, but she just sighed and said they were probably stupid.
Why did that idiot, Prince Blueblood, have her all tied up in knots? He was just doing what came naturally, and Rainbow Dash was on top of him, so it was obviously consensual. It was really none of her business what bad decision Rainbow Dash made.
But he knew! He knew Rainbow Dash was in trouble and his first impulse was to shtup her! That’s not being a good friend!
Of course it wasn’t being a good friend. She hadn’t even given him any friendship lessons! What did she expect, throwing her protégé out into the field with no theoretical grounding? Should it be a surprise when ignoring all the most basic rules of academia blew up in her face? She should’ve known better. This was her responsibility. 
Blueblood didn’t care about anypony. Why did she think he would care about her or her friendship lessons? Why did she want him to?
She shouldn’t. Obviously, the Prince just wasn’t ready for the advanced studies she was trying to teach him. There was really no other choice but to tell him politely, but firmly, that she never ever ever ever ever wanted to speak to him again because he was a pig and a misogynist who treated mares like they were objects and if he had any common decency, he would take his balls and…
No…
Twilight took some deep breaths. Let’s be realistic.
This was Rainbow Dash’s fault!
Flaunting her athletic body in front of him, her mane flipping in the wind like a… like… like some kind of rainbow-y flag! It was a side Rainbow Dash obviously always had and she’d just ignored. She was a slutty sex freak. What kind of mare carried a porno magazine around with her all the time?
A mare with a problem, that’s what kind.
Friends helped friends work through their problems together.
No matter how she looked at it, it came back to her. She’d failed Rainbow Dash and she’d failed Blueblood. If she’d only been there for both of them, this would never have happened. Now it was too late.
No!
Twilight leaped out of bed.
“It’s not too late!” she declared, “I’m going to help my friends!”
She marched down the stairs and set off to find Rainbow Dash.
Spike came up from the basement just as the door closed behind her.
“Twilight? Twilight?” he called “I found some board games that might cheer you up… Do you want to play Chess? We’ve also got Othello, and there’s a few Bingo cards here…”


***

“BINGO! BINGO! BINGOOOOO!” screamed Pinkie Pie, a stupid grin plastered across her sweat-drenched face. Tombs gritted his teeth with exertion and drove harder, his turgid c- okay…
You know something… you know something…
We might’ve returned to Tombs and Pinkie Pie a little early. They need privacy.
Meanwhile at Sweet Apple Acres…


***

        Big Mac and Blueblood came in from the fields for lunch. They were slick with sweat, their backs were sore and their muscles ached.
Blueblood stuck his head under the hoof-pump and Big Mac cranked the lever until a refreshing blast of cold water washed over the Prince’s head and ran down his nose.
With Big Mac working as coach and taskmaster, the pair managed to uproot and haul more than half the stumps out of the orchard down to the side of the road. Big Mac coached Blueblood in the use of the harness and hauling techniques, and Blueblood coached Big Mac on the use of Unicorn magic, which came in extremely useful when it came to digging and rigging up the chains.
Blueblood was surprised at how easy hard work became once he got into the groove. There was a sort of rhythm to it all. The Earth wanted to move a certain way, wanted to break in certain places and certain ways. The more he dug his hooves in the soil, the more time he spent with the trees and the wood, the more comfortable he felt. Earth Pony magic wasn’t about making things happen. It was about listening and helping things to happen the way they wanted to happen. When the blood was pounding in his ears and his legs were coated in a film of dirt and sweat, he could almost hear a song, guiding him, encouraging him. If he let his thoughts unfocus and went with the flow, he almost forgot it was work at all.
Applejack was impressed with their progress.
“Ah’m glad you two decided to work together. At this rate, we can get all those stumps out and have that orchard replanted before the end of the week. Ah can’t thank ya enough, Blueblood. You and Tombs have been a real Princess-send,” she said “Speakin’ of Tombs, where’s that feller gone?”
“We haven’t seen him since this morning…” said Blueblood.
“Eeyup,” said Big Macintosh.
Applejack paused for a moment, studying the two, then burst out laughing.
“Ah guess you two are startin’ to rub off on each other more’n I thought,” she chuckled “Anyway, it’s be a sin to let this lunch he laid out go to waste.”
They dug in with gusto.
 “Did you know Mootilda is getting an udder implant?” smacked Applejack through a mouthful of lettuce.
“Ugh, how gauche,” said Blueblood.
“That’s what Ah’m sayin’. Ah mean, really, Ah understand she’s getting’ older and startin’ t’ feel like the bulls ain’t noticin’ her n’more, but Ah don’t think she realizes that that kinda thing is just an obvious cry fer help…”
“Eeyup,” Big Mac nodded.


***

“Tombs, help!” cried Pinkie Pie.
“What do you think I’m trying to do?” Tombs grunted.
“No, Tombs, no,” said Pinkie Pie “Ya gotta help me get my leg up like this. See what I’m trying to do? No. Eyes on me. Eyes on me. See this? Leg goes like this.”
“Uruuuugh!”
“Okay, now try and put your horn so that it…”
Nope. Still too early. Maybe you’d better try the next chapter.




The End of Part 15…


To be continued…