Applejack prided herself on always rising before Celestia. This morning was no different, which meant that she found herself trotting around the perimeter of the Egg in near-complete darkness. Lord Mayor she was, and a diplomat atop that, but some habits die hard.
(*): Bucky McGillicuddy, on the other hoof, was quite content to spend a quiet vacation in bed. Bucky was outnumbered three legs to one.
Habits like that itch in Kicks McGee that said it was time to buck something (*). She considered going for an apple-less bucking run on the cedars growing by the Egg, but wondered if it would be offensive to the minotaurs. She didn’t much care for the idea of having her legs broken for putting a dent in the tall timbers. So she told Kicks to shush, and settled for a morning run.
She leaned against the Egg, one hoof on the wall. She took the opportunity to suck in a few deep breaths, sampling the smells of a new land. To be completely honest, it smelled a heck of a lot like a farm. Maybe cleaner. Maybe less fertilizer. But between the trees and the dirt and the grass, it smelled like home.
Applejack cocked an ear to point behind her. “Ah know you’re there. Y’all don’t have to hide.”
Hoofsteps came trotting up beside her. Applejack looked over and nodded. “Howdy, Guard Care. You usually up this early?”
“Not often, Your Lordship.” Care stood at full attention, but Applejack could see little bags under her eyes. The guard was wearing lighter armor than her usual ceremonial garb; chain mail linked around her torso, gauntlets covered her legs, and a simple round helmet protected her head. “Today I thought it prudent to take a run around the Egg.”
Applejack smirked. “Picked out the short straw, huh?”
Care twitched. She turned her head to Applejack. “Fair enough, ma’am. Regulations state that you need a guard with you at all times. This morning, that duty is mine.”
“Then welcome aboard the Early-Riser Express.” Applejack stuck out a hoof, and Care took it cautiously. She sat back and regarded the guard, her lower lip jutting out in thought. “So tell me, Care, what’s yer take on the new critter?”
Care returned to attention. “Permission to speak freely, ma’am?”
“Uh oh.” Applejack chuckled. “Ah guess if’n ah want yer honest opinion ah gotta say ‘yes,’ huh? Okay, shoot.”
Care frowned. “Celestia’s being too flippant. We should post a guard at the Sapience’s door at all times. Maybe inside the room. One that’s equipped to deal with strange magic. We really have no idea what that thing’s capable of.”
Applejack took her hat off and fanned herself with it. “Reason.”
Care’s eyebrow rose an iota. “Excuse me?”
“We know it’s capable of reasonin’,” Applejack said. “We just can’t communicate with it.”
“Capable of reasoning,” Care said. “But… willing to?”
“Good question.” Applejack shrugged. “Princess Celestia said that we’d find out once the zebras arrived. I tend to think she knows what she’s doin’ in stuff like this.”
Care angled her gaze to the side. “Yes. I suppose you’re right.”
“’Course ah am!” Applejack put a hoof on Care’s shoulder. “How ’bout one more lap around the Egg? Ah’ll race yah!”
Care smirked. Her horn glowed as she adjusted her helmet. “It would be an honor to race against a former rodeo blue ribbon winner.”
“Ain’t nothin’ ‘former’ ’bout it,” Applejack said. “Ah’m entering next year, too!”
The guard’s smirk evolved into a full-blown grin. “Then I’ll see you at the finish line there, too!”
They set off at a gallop. The sun lifted above the tree line just as they came full circle, bringing the world out of darkness and into living color. Applejack leaned against the side of the Egg as she fought to keep her breaths deep. “Sh-shucks. That all you got?”
Care rolled her shoulders and smiled. She scanned the horizon. “No, ma’am. I’m just getting started.”
Applejack laughed. “Confound you kids an’ yer boundless energy. You’re makin’ me feel like a granny.”
Care didn’t laugh. Her back stiffened and her tail hiked. “Lord Mayor, we need to get Celestia.”
Applejack came up beside her and stared into the distance. She didn’t see much of anything. “What’s up?”
Care pointed to a tiny blob in the midst of the ocean. “We need to tell her that the griffon ships have arrived.”
Applejack had to admit it, she wasn’t used to being around things that were bigger than Celestia. Now she had to content with not only Mangle and his vertical superiority, and Shard with her—um—everything superiority, but also the griffons.
An average griffon was about three times the body mass of a pony. Their lion roots led to them being muscular and powerful, and their avian side led to a grace that was unmatched by most of creation. The griffon guards dwarfed Care and Caution, their sheathed weapons gleaming in the morning light.
Naturally, as Celestia was to an ordinary pony, so King Andean was to an average griffon.
He towered over Applejack, his head turned to the side to focus a single eye on her. Just as most griffons were bigger than ponies, he was triple Celestia’s size. Applejack couldn't help but break off the staring contest to get a fuller look at him.
His head lacked feathers, showing off wrinkly gray skin. The rear of his beak sat flush with his flat forehead, while the front curved down into a meat-tearing hook. Around his neck sat an enormous mane of white feathers, which served to give weight to his otherwise narrow head.
(1): Minotaur roads were just about wide enough for five minotaurs to walk together side by side. This allowed for lots of foot traffic, as well as room for two carriages to pass each other. Even then, King Andean was feeling a little cramped.
Black feathers grew across his chest and to his midsection, where it was replaced by glossy black fur. His wingspan stretched fully across the street, blocking any passage (1). The tips of his wings and a bit of his belly were white.
His head was that of a condor, and his rear was that of a bear.
“King Andean Ursagryph,” Celestia said. She bowed her head. “It is an honor to meet with you again.”
Andean may have scowled, or that might have just been the curve of his beak. “Princess. Why have I been summoned?”
President Mangle coughed into his hand. “Maybe we should take this inside? To discuss it in private?”
Andean turned to Mangle, and Applejack watched the muscular minotaur wilt. The griffon walked forward at a near-lumber. “Why, President?” Andean said. The corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk. “Do you have something to hide?”
Mangle gulped. “Yes?”
Andean’s head twitched to his guards. “Crested! Stellar! Come!”
He glanced to the side, where Izod was teetering back and forth, Aspen gently nudging him to one side or the other. “It had to be important to get Izod out of bed,” he muttered.
Andean lurched forward and ran down the road. His wings caught the wind and lifted him into the sky. He circled overhead, his mass shadowing the sun occasionally. His wings locked, and he held steady.
His guards joined him a moment later and followed him to the Egg.
Applejack shook her head. “By gosh. Ah dunno what tah say.”
Aspen leaned close. “Whatever it is, choose it very carefully.”
Applejack pointed a hoof at the flying griffons. “What? Is this why you told me to watch what I say?”
Aspen sighed through his nose. “A large part of it, yes. You will never get the king to like you, but you might stay tolerable.”
“Tolerable. Never much liked the word.” Applejack frowned. “People ‘toleratin’’ me always made it sound like ah was doin’ somethin’ wrong.”
Aspen skittered over to Izod, corrected his downward plunge, then returned to Applejack’s side. “When have you had the opportunity to be ‘tolerated’?”
“Trust me,” Applejack groaned. “Ah’ve had lots of experience havin’ upper crust-type ponies ‘tolerate’ the silly little farm girl from Ponyville.”
Applejack tilted her head back and sniffed. She closed her eyes and spoke in a spot-on Manehatten accent. “Oh darling, that silly pony is getting dirt on our concrete. Oh, but we must love and tolerate the dullard, Sweet Cheeks. Oh yes, of course, for we are the loving type. Truly.” She snorted. “Buncha hypocrites.”
Aspen’s lip curled. “I see you’ve taken the high road of not tolerating anything at all?”
Applejack jerked her head around. She glared at him. “Ah’ll be nice. Manners don’t cost nothin’. But if’n ah see somethin’ stupid, it’s gettin’ called out.”
“I’m sure that’s very endearing.” Aspen raised an eyebrow. “So you weren’t thinking of running for reelection?”
Applejack squinted. “Maybe, maybe not. What the hay’s that got to do with anything?”
Aspen looked at Izod. The Lord of Lightninggale walked towards the Egg, his hat’s weight pulling him forward. “The path to power,” Aspen said, “is walked upon the backs of stupid people.”
He walked forward and spoke over his shoulder. “Keep your head down, your eyes forward, and your lips dipped in honey, and you will go far.”
Applejack watched him walk off in his lord’s wake. She sighed and pulled her hat lower over her eyes. “Ah hate politics.”
“So do I, Applejack,” Celestia said. She touched a wing to Applejack’s back. “But not everypony has the same outlook as Aspen.”
Applejack flicked her tail. “So what’s yer outlook?”
Celestia pressed her lips together lightly. “I know that there’s always a nicer way to say something.” She smiled, shrugged, and joined the forward march to the Egg.
Applejack stood still, her jaw slack. “Of all the—the stupid non-answers,” she hissed. She ran until she caught up with the princess. “Ah mean your outlook on this tolerance thing.”
Celestia looked down at Applejack, her eyes soft. “I believe that correction should always be given with the intent to build up. To make better.” She turned her eyes forward. “And it should be given in the way best suited to help the one who needs correcting.” She lifted her eyes to the sky, then nodded. “If it needs correcting.”
“An’ how do you know ‘if’ it needs correctin’?” Applejack asked.
“A good first question is: ‘Is this hurting anypony?’” Celestia shrugged. “Beyond that, it becomes a case-by-case thing, honestly.”
Applejack rolled her eyes. “Ah’ve noticed a lot of things are ‘case-by-case’ lately.”
“People are unique, Applejack.” Celestia had a tired smile on her face. “Why should their foibles be any different?”
A gust of wind blew Applejack’s hat from her head as Andean came in for a landing. He reared up on his hind legs and held his talons out. “Who invited the witch!?”
Celestia’s mouth dropped open. “I beg your pardon!”
“The witch! That zebra from Girafrica!” He set his left foreleg on the ground and balled his right talon into a fist. “I see her ship in the distance! Who invited her!?”
Applejack heard a clomp behind her. She turned and watched President Mangle duck behind a nearby wall. The minotaur peeked around the side, giant beads of sweat dripping down his neck.
“Um, I did.” Mangle popped a knuckle. “It’s important.”
Andean thundered closer. He started into Mangle’s eyes with fiery intensity. His head twitched to the side. “Very well, then. Let her prodigious judgment fall on you.”
He flapped off, blowing Applejack’s hat further down the street. She raced after it, snorting steam as she went. She lifted her hoof and hollered at the sky. “Give a pony a little warnin’ next time, yah hear!?”
Celestia hid her smile beneath a hoof. She watched Andean soar and made a “tsk” sound. “Although, there are some who refuse to take correction at all.”
King Andean reclined outside the Sapience’s room. He rolled two smooth, shiny stones around in one talon, and alternated between studying the objects and looking inside the door. Applejack marveled at how his talon clutched the stones, moving them around as an afterthought.
She looked at her hooves. “Maybe hands ain’t so creepy after all.”
“Oh no, Your Lordship,” Care whispered into her ear. “They really are.”
A zebra stallion stood beside Care, his stripy body threatening to strain Applejack’s eyes. She had discovered that Zecora’s Mohawk was the default mane-style for both male and female zebras, with small variations therein. Za’rapha, one of the two zebras to arrive that day, had his Mohawk tapered near the top, giving it the appearance of an axe.
He kept glancing at the griffon king, only to look away just as quickly.
An orb of magic floated just outside the room, through which the eye of a dragon could be seen. The orb was coated in the golden magic of Celestia, who watched with as keen an interest as Shard. The scribble, scribble, scribble of the dragon’s pen leaked out through the orb, along with occasional “hmms.”
The Sapience stared into a large, black cauldron. It roiled and bubbled, though there was no fire to heat it. An aged zebra mare, Zipporah, tossed herbs, liquids, mixtures… just about everything on hand into the pot. The gold rings around her ankles and neck jingled as she bobbed around the room, whispering the recipe to herself.
“With a number of truffles, a half of a score,” Zipporah said, “the power of babble holds kingship no more!”
She dipped a ladle into the brew. She beckoned the Sapience forward with a hoof and held the mixture up for her to drink.
The Sapience shook its head. It pointed at the brew, and then pointed at the zebra.
Zipporah frowned. “Come now, silly fool! To think such of my cooking is cruel!”
“Wouldn’t that be magnificent?” Andean said. He held the stones up to a lamp and watched the reflection change. “We’d have to teach the Sapience how to speak properly the slow way.”
Seabreeze tugged at his fluffy white collar. “Vhee doon’t hev time for this! Joost force it doon ets throat!”
“No need for that,” Celestia said. She walked into the room and put a wingtip on Zipporah’s shoulder. “May I?”
Zipporah frowned, but handed the ladle to the princess. Celestia drank deep, letting out a small “mm” sound as she stared pointedly at the sapience. She made a show of licking her lips and got another scoop of the soup.
She held it out to the Sapience, who watched it closely. It took the ladle carefully and sniffed. With a shrug, the Sapience downed the mixture.
It came up for breath coughing and sputtering. Its ears and mouth sparkled as it dropped the scooper. “Ack!”
Everybody leaned close. Celestia bowed her head and looked the Sapience in the eyes. “Can you understand me, little one?”
The Sapience ducked down, its eyes wide. It made several popping sounds with its lips. “You… you can talk?”
“Typical,” Andean said. “If it isn’t speaking your language, it obviously can’t speak at all.”
“Well, well it’s just…” The Sapience held its hands out. “You’re all animals!”
Andean’s eyes narrowed. Izod plowed into the room, his hat bobbing on his head. “Now you take that back this minute! I think we can agree that we are all people here!” He turned to Seabreeze and Mangle, his hat tilting. “Some more important than others.”
“Ja, ja, ja.” Seabreeze fluttered up to the Sapience and hovered before its face. “Whoo are eyew? What are eyew? Where are eyew froom?”
The Sapience stepped back, her eyes wide. Celestia put a hoof between Seabreeze and his target. “Easy,” the princess said. She turned to the Sapience. “Perhaps it would be best to start with our names. I am Princess Celestia. What’s yours?”
“M-my name is Megan.” She squinted at the caldron. “What is that stuff?”
“Long ago, the peoples were one,” Zipporah said. “Language was shared beneath the sun. But pride and stubbornness tore us apart.” She glanced out of the room. “Though still divided, this brew is a start.”
She lifted a hoof and held it over the cauldron. “A temporary enchantment, it’ll last the week. It will make this language easier to speak.”
Megan’s eyes just about shot out of her skull. She pulled her blanket tighter around her shoulders and shuffled back. “Y-you cast a spell on me?”
Zipoorah frowned. “Yes.” She looked at Celestia. “Is it not best?”
Celestia sat on the ground. “What’s wrong with magic?”
“It… it’s witchcraft!” Megan gasped. “It’s all sacrificing to demons, and getting revenge, and horrible spirits!”
Izod whinnied. “The only ‘horrible spirits’ around here come from Mangle’s vineyard.”
The minotaur snorted, but held his tongue.
“You can rest easy, Megan.” Celestia chuckled. “This is not witchcraft. It is soup. It is medicine. Our magic comes from the heart and the mind, not from the abyss.”
“We had an issue with a necromancer ram a few years back,” Care mumbled to Applejack. “He was trying to summon a great lava demon from a volcano.”
Applejack lowered an eyebrow and stuck her bottom lip out. “How’d that go for him?”
(2): Grogar, the self-styled Necromancer of Tambelon, had managed to salvage bells from the hat of Starswirl the Bearded. He jangled them outside of a dark cave, chanting in some strange, possibly butchered, language. The dragon, Smog, had always been a great connoisseur of music. When he heard the ramblings of the necromancer, he felt so utterly disgusted by the "sorry excuse for a melody" that he came out of the cave and ate Grogar. When later questioned, Smog said, "What I did, I did for music everywhere. You're welcome."
“The ‘mighty lava demon’ turned out to be a sleeping dragon.” Care grinned. “He woke up grumpy and hungry (2).”
“Ew,” Shard said through the orb. “Some dragons have no taste.”
Scribble, scribble, scribble.
Megan bit her lip. “Where am I?”
“Beefland, homeland of minotaurs and cows,” Mangle said. “I’m President Mangle. You looked pretty roughed-up when we found you.”
“What can you tell us about how you found Beefland?” Celestia asked. “Do you know where you’re from in relation to here?”
“I was…” Megan took another step back from the cauldron. “My family and I were traveling across the Rocky Mountains. To get to the west, you see.”
Celestia caught Applejack’s eye. She raised an eyebrow. Applejack shrugged and shook her head. “Pardon me,” Celestia said. “What are the Rocky Mountains?”
“Um.” Megan followed Seabreeze with her eyes as he bobbed about her head. “They split the country in half? Kind of.”
Applejack stuck her head in the room. “What country?”
Megan looked to the door. “The United States.”
Celestia pursed her lips throughout the resulting silence. “There are more of you?”
Megan furrowed her brow. “Of course. All over the world.”
“What sort of weaponry do you have?” Andean asked.
“Andean, please!” Celestia snapped. She gave him a severe look. “We can worry about that later.”
He took one of his stones in each talon. “We can worry about it now.”
He threw the rocks straight up. They met at the toss’ apex of their own accord. They bounced against each other as they tumbled down to his waiting talon.
He smirked. “We should worry about it now.”
“Andean, please, you must settle down!” Zipporah said. “Lest you forget the wisdom I shared with the griffon crown.”
Andean growled with the sound of an angry bear. Megan dove behind a chair. The zebra standing beside Applejack and Care reached into a packet hanging from his side.
“Enough!” Celestia shouted. She shook her head. “There are far more important things to speak of right now.” She turned back to Megan. “Such as what brought you to Beefland.”
Megan wrapped herself deep within her blanket. “I don’t suppose Beefland is inside the Rockies?”
“I’m afraid not,” Celestia said. “The nearest mountains are in the griffon lands. Several kilometers away.”
“Griffon lands?” Megan closed her eyes and shook her head. “You all have countries, too?”
Applejack scrunched her face up. “This is gettin’ weird.”
“It’s getting interesting,” Shard said. “We might be talking long-range teleportation here.”
Scribble, scribble, scribble.
Celestia tilted her head. “Perhaps we can talk about it over a nice, calm”—she pointed her horn at Andean—“polite dinner?”
Megan blushed. “Um, may I ask you something?”
Celestia nodded.
“May I have some clothes?” Megan clutched the edges of her blanket. “Please?”
All eyes turned to Mangle. He blushed as his ears drooped.
“President Mangle,” Celestia said, “was Megan wearing clothes when you found her?”
“Um…” Mangle shrugged. “Yeah? Kinda? They were kinda raggy and burnt up. The docs had to take them off to clean her up. I guess we were gonna give her something, but…” He grinned in an unconvincing manner. “Guess it slipped our minds.”
Celestia sighed. “Megan, how often would you say you wear clothes?”
“All the time?” Megan mumbled.
“Nudity taboo?”
“Nude what?”
“It’s where it’s socially unacceptable to not wear clothes.”
“Illegal, actually.”
“Really?”
“Certainly.”
Mangle twiddled his thumbs. “Sorry. Sorry.”
“That’s okay,” Megan said carefully. “You… didn’t know, I suppose.”
“Shoulda brought Rarity on this trip,” Applejack said. “She always gets a kick out of designing around new body types.”
Care and Caution stood at attention beside the door as Celestia walked out. “Mangle,” the princess said, “would you mind making arrangements for a fitting?”
“Not at all, princess,” Mangle sighed. “No problem.”
Celestia looked back at Megan. “We’ll be locking the door, just as a precaution. To keep you safe.”
“Of course,” Megan said. She sat down and rubbed her knees. “Safe.”
Andean rose and beckoned his guards forward. “I suppose we’ll retire to prepare for the dinner.”
(3): In griffon culture, raw meat was for those who couldn't afford to have it cooked. The more charred a meal, the higher status the griffon obviously had. It was a rule that nobody could have a meal darker than the king's. Andean, it was said, preferred medium-well.
He scowled at Mangle. “We’ll be wanting that meat well cooked, President (3).”
“Sure, sure.” Mangle took a step back and swallowed. “Whatever you want.”
“Good.” Andean Ursagryph smiled at Celestia. “Good day, Princess.”
Once the griffons had walked away, everybody else breathed a sigh of relief.
“He’s got a way of gettin’ under yer skin, ah noticed,” Applejack said.
The zebra stallion spoke under his breath. “Do you refer to all of us, or just to your princess?”
Applejack scoffed. “Za’rapha, right?”
“Aye,” he said with a nod. “That name is mine.”
“Yeah.” Applejack leaned close. “Watch whatchya say ’bout the princess.”
Za’rapha squinted. “I mean no offence, please do not get tense.”
“Fine. Sorry.” Applejack shook her head. “An’ besides, ah meant me.”
As the leaders began to disperse, Applejack tapped Za’rapha on the shoulder. “By the way, why’s Andean got such a pain in the rear from you zebras?”
“Long ago he had a strange dream,” Za’rapha said. “He came to Zipporah and asked, ‘What does it mean?’”
Zipporah walked up to them, her knees creaking. She turned to Applejack with a frown. “He lives a life of anger and wrath. His death will be swift if he continues that path.” She placed a hoof on her chin. “His life will be ended, in the dream it was seen, by a frightened child whose heart is clean.”
“He found her prophesy not to his liking,” Za’rapha said. “I believe he found it more than a little frightening.”
“But I wouldn’t dare bring it up,” Aspen interrupted. He looked Applejack in the eye. “Leave it be. Trust me.”
Applejack turned her nose up. “What if it becomes important?”
Aspen saw Izod tipping over and sighed. “Leave it.” He raced over and caught the Lord of Lightninggale in the nick of time.
“In this case, Applejack,” Celestia said, “it may be best to take his advice.” She led Applejack forward with her wing. “I’ve been working on Andean for years, but he hasn’t budged.”
Shard’s eye hovered in the air, her scribble, scribble, scribble sounding off occasionally. Celestia smiled, lit her horn, and the orb vanished. “See you in a bit, Shardscale.”
Caution grinned. “Roight! Another foin day of not killin’ each other. Good start for the meetin’, it is, good start.”