Extended Holiday
Chapter 012: You Have my Axe
Taze moved calmly and deliberately to place himself between the two solar guards and the Changeling, keeping his back to Mutatio. “Stand down, on the authority of Princess Luna.”
“That thing is a spy for the enemy. We are not about to give them a chance to get another foothold in the kingdom,” the larger of the two guards snapped. His horn rang with the sound of charged magic as he glared at Mutatio.
“So it’s treason, then?” Taze asked with a sneer.
Matthew panted as he entered the room and took in the situation. “Stand down by order of both princesses and our military,” he ordered. “That Changeling is under royal protection.”
“Look out!” Mutatio cried, even as the guards lunged forward, one at Taze, the other in a great leap toward Moonshade. A pair of filmy wings flared into existence on its back, revealing the creature for exactly what it was.
For a brief instant, everything seemed to stop as Taze took in the situation. The Changeling approaching him, the one approaching Moonshade, and the room itself were all laid out before him in perfect stillness. He weighed the courses he could take and found himself coming to a swift action. Thankful, if somewhat confused by the experience as time sped up again, he grabbed a nearby wooden chair that was strangely reminiscent of an Earth style with four strong legs and support bars to hold them together. Then he twisted and slammed it down on the leaping Changeling, just narrowly avoiding the one that had charged at him. The momentum of the one with the exposed wings was instantly cut off as it choked under the sudden force from above. Taze quickly slammed his weight down on the seat with both knees folded under him to keep the creature pinned.
Mutatio flipped himself around to hover above Moonshade’s back and fired four green gobs of ichor from his mouth. The other Changeling’s momentum worked against it. And though it managed to change shape in time to alter its course and avoid impact, one of Mutatio’s projectiles struck its wings, effectively grounding it. Mutatio hurled more gobs at the Changeling, but the creature countered with the flicks of its horn to slice the gobs and send them spreading to either side.
“Matthew! Bolt!” Taze called.
Matthew pulled the small bow from his hip and primed the mechanism. The light from the window glinted on the arrow tip before he fired to strike the Changeling in its side as it sliced at yet another projectile Mutatio had hurled. The scream of pain and angry hiss that followed was sufficient enough for Mutatio to land his blows, pinning the target’s legs so that it couldn’t move.
Mutatio panted as he lowered himself to the floor. The love crystals he had used to bolster his magic and natural biological functions had shrunk significantly with the consumption. “I am no longer of that hive, but that does not mean I cannot sense it when it is near.” Another well-placed gob of goo left the enemy Changeling’s horn completely coated, cutting off all remaining magic with that touch. “I am glad to see you returned safely. Thank you for coming to help.”
Tired of fighting with the wriggling Changeling beneath him, Taze quickly clasped his hands together and smacked the back of its head with a swift and decisive blow. There was a loud crack, followed by silence from beneath as the Changeling went limp. A few moments later, he could hear soft snoring spurred by the pressure of one of the spokes on the creature’s neck.
The remaining troop snarled as it pulled at its bonds and began to synthesize the compound that would act as the solvent to release it.
“Moonshade, please restrain him.” Mutatio plopped dizzily onto his hindquarters. “That … is more love than I am used to using.”
Moonshade approached the changeling and, in a swift motion, locked him down in what seemed to be the Equestrian version of a choke hold.
Matthew stared admiringly at the hold.
Taze stroked his chin thoughtfully as he gazed at the Changeling. “Mutatio, you said you were disconnected from the hive. But you also said you could feel its presence. Do you think it might be possible to hack back in for an interrogation?”
Mutatio shook his head and shuddered. “The song of the hive would consume me. I would be nothing more than a pawn again.”
“Then your former queen. Can we speak to her through our friend over there?”
Mutatio frowned. “That is … more difficult to determine. The queen is connected to her hive, and she directs her will through all of her soldiers. It is possible that she might be able to see us now, and even hear us. But there has never been a need to use one of us as a mouthpiece before. We would know her will, her desires for us immediately, and we would obey. If we moved as she willed, however, then it is not impossible for her to have us speak as she wishes us to speak.”
A strangled gurgling chuckle rose from the captive’s throat. “Clever boy. It seems I underestimated your potential, Thirty-eight. Had your thoughts shown such promise in your infancy, I may have placed you in a position of command.” The creature’s eyes flickered and flashed between the familiar bluish hue and the deep dark glowing green that had surrounded Crysalis’ horn when she cast her magic.
“Instead, you left me to die.”
“That is the nature of war, Thirty-eight. Though I was not the one responsible for your severance from the hive.” The soldier’s mouth curved in an insufferable smirk. “That responsibility lies solely with your captors.”
“My captors have shown mercy.”
“Because they want to study you, obviously. Did you really think that there was any other motive they could have? Perhaps I overestimated your newfound intelligence after all.”
“I was smart enough to know your intent to kill me.”
“And yet you didn’t run. If your little friends hadn’t arrived, we wouldn’t be having this delightful conversation right now, would we?”
“You talk a lot for a loser,” Taze snarked.
“A mere setback, I assure you,” the Changeling remarked. “The long game is not won with a single move, you know. And there are so many interesting pieces on the board to play with.” The Changeling’s head cocked as far as it was able while Moonshade still held it. “I wonder what thoughts must dwell in that brain of yours. What sweet and bitter emotions.” The laughter that followed carried a dual tone as the blue faded and the green became more prominent.
“They’re nothing in comparison to what burns in mine,” Shawn spoke up as he rounded the corner into the room, a familiar dagger in hand.
For the briefest moment, the blue overwhelmed the green as sheer terror and disbelief overrode the connection between the queen and her pawn. Then the fear gave way to a hateful snarl. “You! You’re supposed to be dead!”
“So are you, but I suppose we’ll both have to be disappointed for now.” Shawn sneered as he stopped next to the Changeling and squatted down in front of it. “How does it feel? To have stood at the top of the nation for the briefest of moments, everything lined up so perfectly, and yet you still couldn’t do it? How does it feel to be told that by the one you called ‘expendable,’ yet you couldn’t even kill me?”
The Changeling was quiet for a time, then gurgled a wicked chortle. “I haven’t tried until now. But rest assured, ‘Lord Shawn,’ you and your friends have my undivided attention. And all that entails.”
“Don’t need it,” Shawn replied bluntly as he took hold of the Changeling’s pseudo mane before nodding to Moonshade. The mare quickly disengaged as he flipped the dagger in his offhand and threw the Changeling’s head onto the floor with a loud crack. “Now, stop wasting my time,” he growled before he slammed the dagger straight into the Changeling’s head. Chitin crunched loudly as the blade slipped down to the hilt, then spread cracks as the skull began to cave. Green ichor oozed from the site as the creature’s head lolled onto the floor.
“Well, that’s one way to send her a message,” Matthew said, then frowned. “Does that mean we might be able to use that one over there to try to trace the hive connection to wherever Chrysalis is hiding?” he asked as he gestured to the unconscious Changeling.
“Unlikely,” Shawn replied as he removed his dagger from the Changeling’s head. “But I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try. That is, if you can replicate what you did to assist Mutatio.” He frowned, removing a cloth from his coat to clean the blade.
“That’s up to Taze.” Matthew shook his head. “He’s the one who mixed the compounds and spiked my bolts.”
“Uh, yeah,” Taze said. “I have no idea which are which,” he admitted.
“Delightful.” Shawn sighed. “Ponyville has a small jail that hasn’t really been used much. I’ll talk with the mayor to make use of it. Bind it. As for the compound, you’ll have to work with Twilight to figure something out.”
Matthew nodded. “Moonshade, could you grab us some rope, please? And maybe some leg irons if you have them,” he mused.
Moonshade gave a curt nod and took off immediately.
Matthew sighed as he took in the room’s state. “I suppose we’re going to have to reimburse Berry Punch for damages
“Already planned on it. Just deal with this.” Shawn sighed once more as he moved into the hall and back toward his shared room. After a moment, he emerged with a pouch in hand as he moved in the direction of the stairs..
“Thank you for helping me,” Mutatio said. He eyed the scorch marks and other property damage his efforts had wrought. “I am … sorry for the mess.”
Matthew sighed. “At least it’s not a Tuesday,” he muttered.
Mutatio cocked his head in confusion. “What does Tuesday have to do with it?”
“Tuesday seems to be the universal day for things to happen,” Taze said
“Don’t things always happen? Or are you referring to something more specific?”
“We had the chance to study some history while we were learning to read Equish,” Matthew explained. “It appears that most, if not all of significant events relating to violence, discord, etc. in Equestria seem to happen on Tuesdays.”
Mutatio frowned. “That is … a strange occurrence, but … I cannot refute that the attack also took place on a Tuesday. Is this always the case or only often?”
Matthew shrugged. “Who can say? We humans just like to be prepared.”
Moonshade arrived several minutes later with the requested items, and the group quickly worked at restraining their visitor.
“Moving this prisoner in its current state would probably just incite panic.” Matthew frowned, then looked to Mutatio. “Do you think you’re recovered enough to cast a glamour over our comatose friend here?”
“I … think so,” Mutatio said. “If I take the shape of a Unicorn, I can justify the glow from my horn by making it appear that I’m conjuring the bindings.”
Matthew nodded. “Do it, then. We’ll need to keep it up until we secure the prisoner properly.” He turned to Moonshade. “We’ll probably need to keep it sedated, too. I don’t want to risk it being lucid enough for Chrysalis to spy on us. If we can cloud its thoughts, maybe we can disrupt the hive connection or at least give enough static to prevent anyone from reaching out. One of us should stop by the doctor’s office to pick up the necessary prescription. Since the command belongs to Shawn, I suppose we’ll have to ask him to do it. He has the paperwork to back it up, after all.”
Taze nodded. “Honestly, I’m still trying to figure out how that happened,” Taze said.
“How what happened?”
“How I did that,” Taze noted.
“That being…?”
“I picked up a chair and slammed it onto a target while simultaneously dodging an attack. How did I do that?”
Matthew shrugged. “Adrenaline?” he suggested as Mutatio flashed into the shape of a Unicorn.
“Would you like me to wear a guard’s armor?” Mutatio asked.
“Probably best if you didn’t. They may try to ask you for some ID you don’t have,” Taze noted.
“Would Moonshade not have that?”
“Do you want to push it?” Taze asked.
“If you believe I would be better without, I will serve without. I suppose I could pretend to be one of your fighters, the ones you are training. That would be plausible, would it not?”
Taze nodded. “Or something like that. We should probably get moving.”
Mutatio nodded. “Moonshade, would you be willing to carry her?”
“I got—wait, her?” Taze asked.
Mutatio nodded. “Of course. Could you not tell?”
The Ponyville jail was a very old structure, indeed. The beams were worn by time and smoothly cut. The joists and bolts used to hold the joints together contributed to the strangely hospitable feel of the room. Hardwood floors flowed under the wrought iron bars that seemed not so much to have been inserted but had the wood grown around them. True to the traditional western cells, the windows were also barred to prevent escape, and the exterior walls had been reinforced with stone that covered the original structure. Given the size of the town, there were only three cells. Fortunately for the humans and the rest of their party, they only needed one.
“So, Mutatio, what's Chrysalis likely to do here?” Taze asked as they waited for the captured Changeling to wake up.
“It is difficult to say. The queen did not let us think before. We would only obey. If she fears exploitation, she will do what she can to protect the hive and herself from discovery. This Changeling may try to kill herself to that end. Or the queen may seek to use her as a means to locate you.” Mutatio sighed and shook his head. “Without my connection to the hive, there is no way to say for certain. And even then, I would not tell you, because the song is controlled by the queen, and I would be but another piece of that song, a note to be played and shifted at her whim.” His voice softened to little more than a whisper. “Or silenced.”
“She can’t make her explode or anything, right?” Taze asked.
“I … do not think so, but it may be wise to prevent her from being able to use magic, just to be safe.”
“And what happens if we push too far?” Taze asked.
“What do you mean by push?”
“Trying to get information out of her?” Taze clarified.
“I don’t know. It depends on how she feels. So long as she has no access to anything she can harm herself with, it should be safe. Though if the queen wishes it, she may be able to even force this one to stop breathing. The submission to the queen’s will is absolute, or … at least it used to be.”
“What are you thinking?” Taze asked.
“Merely that you released me from that hold. I know we cannot recreate those conditions easily. For now, all we can do is try to keep this worker from harm.” He frowned. “You have the drugs ready?”
Taze nodded. “I think I have a way to get her to eat them without realizing it.”
“That is good. Then it is only a matter of waiting for her to wake. If you wish, I can present myself to give a target and draw her ire.”
The unconscious Changeling slowly began to twitch, her movements sluggish as her head began to rise. After a moment, her eyes seemed to widen in panic as she looked around rapidly.
“Remain calm. I’d hate to have to knock you out again,” Taze said carefully.
She glared at Mutatio and seemed to struggle to rub her leg chitin together, creating a rapid clicking beat.
Mutatio cocked his head in confusion. “She is … asking what I have done to her. She also called me a traitor. I … do not understand what she means, though.”
“If you have something to say, say it out loud,” Taze said. “No tricks from you or your queen.”
“What have you done? Why is the hive song gone?” she snapped back.
Taze looked to Mutatio.
“Hive song?” Matthew asked as he entered the room with papers under his arm. “Didn’t Mutatio mention something like that when he first found us?” He frowned. “Does that mean she’s cut off, like he is?”
“I cannot supply an answer. This has never happened before. Your compound broke me away, but I did not think the connection could be severed in any other fashion. We have done nothing. That leaves only one possibility. Someone or something within the hive broke her connection instead. I can think of no other with the power, save for the queen mother. As I said, she controls the song. She is the conductor.”
“You lie!” the Changeling lunged at the bars and hissed angrily. “The queen would not—Mother wouldn’t do that!”
“I have no reason to lie. I am not an infiltrator. That is not in my makeup. I was bred to follow orders. I could not think as you did, Praetorian.” Mutatio cocked his head. “To think I looked like this when I discovered my loss.”
“You became stronger for it,” Taze said.
“Mother! Mother, please, let me die if I must, but don’t remove me from the song!” she cried, even as her voice cracked and shifted toward a higher register with her desperation.
Mutatio shook his head and sighed. “She will be like this for some time. I do not recall how long it took me to accept and begin to act for myself, but I know a significant amount of time did pass.”
“Well then, I guess she’s not going to be interested in this.” Taze shrugged, holding a simple unwrapped chocolate bar, which promptly vanished from his hand as the Changeling threw her weight forward, her jaws getting just close enough to grab the candy and begin devouring it in an almost feral frenzy.
“Oookay, what just happened?”
“I … am not sure,” Mutatio admitted. “I have not seen such a reaction from anyone in the hive before. Our hunger is for love, not for sweets.”
Matthew blinked with his mouth agape. “You certainly never acted like that around anything before. That almost looked instinctual.”
“As I said, I do not understand.” Mutatio shrugged. The greedy slurping and scarfing spoke louder than words how much the prisoner was interested in the treat.
“Mother has plans for me,” she said in an exultant giggle that bordered on lunacy. That's why she made sure I'd get this.” The drone grinned manically as she finished the bar and tossed her head back for a full bout of triumphant laughter that lasted for five seconds before she promptly slumped forward and buried her face in the wooden floor as the sedatives kicked in.
“Well, that's going to be a conversation when she wakes up,” Taze said.
“Would you prefer that I not be present for that interrogation?” Mutatio asked. “My presence seems to upset her.”
“No. We need someone who has some idea how this all works around,” Taze said.
“I … don’t believe I understand,” Mutatio admitted. “How what all works around?”
“How Changelings think and what may or may not be true,” Taze clarified.
“Yeah, but the real question now is how long will this sedative last? A few hours, a few minutes? Did your source tell you anything about the timing, Taze?” Matthew asked.
“Should last a couple of hours, according to the doctor. She’ll be groggy and hopefully disoriented when she wakes up. We can use that.”
“I can tell you this. She was happy. So happy that she didn’t even think to block her emotions from being felt,” Mutatio said. “Whatever this substance is, it appears to be something that she believes will lead to freedom. You should post guards here, just in case.”
“Chocolate is an interesting sweet,” Taze explained. “It effects brain chemistry, releases endorphins into the system. Those are hormones that give off the feeling of being in love,” he clarified at Mutatio’s look of confusion. “I thought it was fitting.”
“It makes one feel love?” Mutatio wondered in surprise. “If that is so, we should have been able to harvest plenty of love for ourselves. Would this chocolate allow a Changeling to feel love as well?”
“I don't know,” Matthew answered thoughtfully, “but, that’s certainly something we should try asking or figuring out with our POW. If we can figure out a means to have Changelings produce their own love, we won’t have to worry about another invasion again. Or at the very least, the likelihood of invasion from any other hives would drop significantly.”
“For now, we’ll post someone to watch her and hope it all works out,” Taze said. “Let's go see if we can find some food.”
“Perhaps something from the bakery?” Mutatio suggested. “The emotions there are … pleasant, even if they are not love.”
“Sure. I wouldn’t mind seeing what they have to eat there, myself,” Matthew said.
Taze nodded and turned toward the door. As they left, the sleeping Changeling’s chitin began to pulse with a subtle green light.
Shawn yawned as he stretched. Like usual, he was prepared for the day at least two hours before most people got up. At the moment, he was on the first floor, mentally going through his day as he tried to figure out his plans for it. The heavy creaking of wagon wheels gave him pause, and he turned curiously toward a window to behold a familiar stetson-wearing orange mare hauling a cart of apples behind her. A wizened green mare with her mane tied up in a bun strode beside her. A lattice pie stood proudly on her flanks, and a large orange scarf dotted with shiny red apples served as a shawl for her as she walked.
Shawn hummed as he stood upright. “Strange. It’s usually Big Mac who makes the deliveries,” he muttered as he made his way toward the door, giving a brief wave to Ruby as he passed by the counter.
“I don’t know, Granny,” Applejack said as they stopped in front of the establishment. “I can do a lot, but with Big Mac laid up, I don’t know how we’re gonna get the orchards ready for the storm.”
The old mare shrugged. “We’ll just have to make do, Applejack. I may be old, but that don’t mean I can’t buck with the best of ’em.” She cackled goodnaturedly. “If I ain’t too old to help with a delivery, then I ain’t too old to work the fields for a day.”
“From the sounds of it, you sound short on labor,” Shawn commented as he opened the tavern door. “I hope everything’s all right?”
“Bit of bad luck’s all,” the green mare said as she waved a hoof dismissively. “Big Mac threw out his back yesterday. I told him he needed to stretch after lunch before he got back to work, but you know how headstrong these younguns can be. He’ll be right as rain in a few days. He’s just got to keep to bed till then.” She smiled ruefully, then eyed the human up and down. “So, you’re Shawn, are you? Didn’t get the chance to meetcha properly ’fore ya up and left the other day. You do some mighty fine work, or so Applejack tells me.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Smith.” He gave a small smile. “Sorry to have left so quickly after helping, but there’s always some work to be done. If you’d both like, I could help out some more today? With everything I did here yesterday, I could use a break.”
“You call farmwork a break?” Applejack asked in surprise.
“I worked with my hands for a living.” Shawn chuckled. “Carpentry, actually, but if there is one thing I dreaded in that line of work, it was the paperwork and documents.”
Applejack laughed. “Eeeeeyup. The universe may hate a paradox, but everypony hates bureaucracy.”
“Landsakes, Applejack, less talking, more unloading. We’ve got a schedule ta keep,” Granny chided, even as she unhitched Applejack from the wagon, then strode toward the back of the cart. Applejack nodded her agreement. If there was one thing they understood, it was the precious commodity that time represented to them, especially today.
“Here. I’ll help out,” Shawn offered as he joined the mares at the rear of the cart.
“Much obliged to ya,” Granny said as she got up onto the cart and pushed one of the barrels toward the human. “Oh, and one more thing. It’s Granny. None of that Mrs. Smith talk, understand?”
“I’ll try.” He chuckled as he took hold of one of the barrels. “But that’s a hard habit to break.” He smiled as he gauged the weight of the barrel before hefting it onto his shoulder, holding on to it with his right arm. “I can probably carry another one.”
Granny eyed him suspiciously. “You sure you won’t drop ‘em? That there’s precious cargo, you know.”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. These are smaller than the barrels from my home, which makes them way easier to carry.”
“All right. If you say so.” Granny pushed another barrel toward the human, then shoved a third toward Applejack. “Let’s get this order in. Berry wasn’t much of a mornin’ person even before she got into brewing. Faster and quieter we get these barrels delivered, the better.”
It didn’t take long to finish delivering the order. The most painful part was watching a bloodshot Berry Punch struggle to sign coherently. She winced with every jerk of her head as she maneuvered the pen. When the paperwork was complete, the trio returned to the cart, and Shawn waved his farewell to the inn’s owner as they strode off down the cobblestone streets toward their next destination. This time, Shawn offered to pull the cart, since his hands were easily able to seize the two wooden bars like he would the handles of a wheelbarrow.
“Well, would you look at that,” Granny said with a surprised smile. “You think you can trade off with Applejack on the regular?”
“Sure. I think I can manage that.”
“Then welcome aboard,” Granny said as she extended her hoof.
Shawn took the hoof and gave a small grin as he shook it. “Glad to be of use.”
“Come on. Get up,” Moonshade said as she shook Matthew’s shoulder roughly. “You’ve been sleeping long enough.”
Matthew muttered as he slowly came back to consciousness. “Wha…? What time is it?”
“It’s after ten,” Moonshade responded. “You’ve been sleeping longer than normal.”
“And I feel exhausted,” Matthew muttered as he moved out of the bed. “Could you maybe raise the heat in the room? It feels a little chilly.”
Mutatio cocked his head in confusion. “You want a fire?”
“No, no. The room should have a radiator or some form of heat, since there’s no fireplace for the room.”
“What is a radiator?”
Matthew looked to Moonshade as he eased himself into a sitting position. “It’s a contraption that will radiate heat. It takes stuff like steam and heats it up, and that heat will radiate out into the room.”
“I’ll see what can be done about the heat,” Moonshade said, turning to go.
“Did you want me to bring your clothing?” Mutatio offered to the human.
Matthew nodded nervously as he glanced toward Moonshade’s retreating form. “If you don’t mind. Thanks, Mutatio.”
Mutatio nodded and levitated the change of clothes toward the human. “Your clothing is almost identical. Why is that?” he asked curiously.
“Uniforms.” Matthew shrugged as he pulled back his covers and turned to place his feet on the floor. “It means that, at a glance, you can tell what organization I belong to or even what nation.” He frowned, then passed under the covers to change. “That, and it reminds me of home.” He shuddered, and goosebumps rose on his skin. “I’d better see about getting a winter coat or something.”
“Warmer clothing would be advised if you are feeling cold,” Mutatio agreed. Then he licked his lips. “I know I do not require them for sustenance, but I do hope that Berry Punch has prepared those flat pieces of bread again today. You called them … pancakes, yes?”
“I am sure if you request them downstairs, she’ll make them.”
“I would, but I don’t wish to make her angry. Negative emotions tend to be the opposite of love. They may not exactly be harmful, but they are … very unpleasant for a Changeling.”
“This is an inn. If it’s on the menu, it's open to order. And sometimes, they will make things not on the menu if you ask politely enough.”
“Make it, yes,” Mutatio said. “But that does not mean they will be happy to do so.” He licked his lips again as he looked toward the door. “Though … with syrup and whipped cream, it might be worth the risk….”
“Well, I plan on making that request myself. It’s nice, warm, and filling.” Matthew chuckled goodnaturedly as he pulled back the covers and stood in his new change of clothes. He paused for a moment, then smiled as he moved toward the door. “I wonder what the answer will be in the heating situation. Maybe another quilt?” he mused.
Mutatio smiled as he shifted into his mule form again. “I’m sure you will find out soon enough.”
Taze sat in Sugarcube Corner nursing his morning coffee as he observed the comings and goings of the customers. Having already completed his morning workout and his run with the guard, he was just taking a few minutes to prep for the rest of the day.
Just as he was finishing his coffee, he realized that Mr. and Mrs. Cake, the proprietors of the bakery, were standing off to the side discussing something in hushed tones. Sensing an issue, he got up and did his best to walk over slowly. “Is everything okay?”
The two Ponies jumped in surprise at the human’s silent approach. When they finally regained their composure, the two faced the human together. Mrs. Cake spoke first.
“I’m afraid it has to do with our usual shipment of wood. Some of our recipes require a wood oven to get the proper flavor and texture. Big Mac was supposed to arrive with our next shipment today, but it looks like he won’t be coming. Without that maplewood, we won’t be able to make, as Pinkie Pie likes to say, our extra mapley maple donuts.”
A very familiar loud gasp emanated from the kitchen as a fluffy pink mane on a stretched-thin neck peered out from the kitchen door. “No more extra mapley maple donuts?”
Mrs. Cake smiled ruefully as the head suddenly shot back into the kitchen with the sound of a snapping rubber band. “Nothing gets past that mare.”
“What's the big deal? Sounds like you just need someone to chop wood. Why does it have to be Big Mac?” Taze asked.
“He’s one of the only ones with the stamina for it,” Mister Cake explained. “Chopping wood’s no easy task for most folks around here. That, and then somepony has to cart it all back after the work is done. It helps keep the farm afloat, too.”
“And the fact the grove he gets the wood from happens to be in the middle of the Everfree. The Apples are some of the few Ponies who actually know how to get through that forest safely,” Mrs. Cake continued.
“Where could I get a splitting axe?” Taze asked.
Mrs. Cake gaped at Taze. “You’re not actually thinking of going into that forest alone, are you?”
“I can handle myself in the forest.” Taze smirked.
“I don’t think you understand the threat, Taze,” Mister Cake said. “There are timberwolves and all manner of other creatures in there. They won’t hesitate to kill you and eat you if they can.”
Taze shrugged. “Good thing I'll have a large axe and plenty of trees to put my back to, then. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine,” he promised. “Just give me directions.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know where it is. None of us do,” Mrs. Cake said. “Only the Apples know how to get there. You’d have to ask Big Mac yourself.”
“Then I’ll make sure to do that,” Taze said. “How much do you need, and when?”
“We usually get about a cord of wood to work with,” the mare admitted. “As for when, … we still have a few logs left, so we should be able to get a few more batches done. But the stores will probably be exhausted by the end of the week at the rate we’re selling right now.”
“Okay. I’ll be back,” Taze said as he gave a brief salute in farewell before heading out the door and making a beeline for the forges.
Taze walked along the road to sweet apple acres dragging a small cart behind him with a battleaxe in it. The smiths had not had a wood cutting axe or a splitting maul available, and had refused to make one, saying the battleaxe would be enough. He looked forward to seeing their faces later that day as he walked past the orchard keeping his eye out for Big Macintosh.
He caught sight of a familiar face several minutes in. “Shawn?”
Shawn turned from the current tree he was working on. “Oh. Hey, Taze. Something going on?”
“Need to find Big Mac. Apparently, the bakers need some special wood, and he’s not able to get it for them, so I figured it would be a good way to work out.” Taze shrugged. “Also need to teach some smiths a lesson about wood chopping and axes.” He gestured to the battleaxe.
“He’ll be near the house. From what I can tell, he’s doing some light work, since he won’t sit still.” Shawn shrugged. “Just follow the path and you’ll get there.”
“Thanks.” Taze nodded. “How goes the work?”
“Surprisingly quick, but I think it helps that I can carry close enough to what Big Mac typically moves for this.”
“Wow. I didn’t realize you were that strong.”
“No, no. I don’t mean as much as he can. I mean more the whole, carrying this stuff takes space for them that you or I could, say, put on a shoulder and carry something else,” Shawn clarified.
“Ah.” Taze nodded. “That makes sense.”
“Just wish I had some actual work clothes. It feels strange working in this.” He gestured toward his shirt and fine pants. The coat had been cast aside for the sake of easy movement and to remove a layer of heat.
“Well, I mean, it’s not really made for work,” Taze noted.
“Yeah. Maybe I should stop by Rarity’s, get some actual clothes I can work out of…” Shawn sighed. “I’ll do it later. For now, I should probably get back to it. Same as you, I suspect?”
“Yeah. Thanks for the advice. I’ll head for the farmhouse, then.”
The journey into the farmhouse was swift and easy. Since Applejack and Shawn were busy working the orchard, there were only two people to worry about inside. The familiar shape of Big Mac laid on the couch with his back and barrel wrapped in supporting strips of cloth. The smell of sugar, cinnamon, apples, and other spices filled the room in a bouquet that spoke of the comforts of home and the warmth of a fall harvest. A rocker creaked gently in the corner, where a wizened green mare sat working a pair of knitting needles.
“Hello, Ma’am,” Taze offered with a polite nod. “I hope today’s treating you well.”
“You’re one of Shawn’s friends, ain’t you?” the mare asked.
“Yes, Ma’am. I just needed to talk to Big Mac for a second to get some directions. But my parents taught me respect, and you always acknowledge the wisest person in the room first.” He smirked.
“Could’ve asked anyone in town, couldn’t you?” she asked as she continued to knit.
“Not quite. Apparently, the Cakes need some special maple wood from a grove your grandson usually harvests for them this time of year. I heard he was indisposed, and it just so happens I used to chop a lot of wood back home, so I figured I’d lend a hand.”
“Consarn it, I knew I forgot something while we were in town.” Granny frowned, then put down her knitting to look Taze over carefully. “Applejack tells me you were given some fancy awards after fighting the Changelings. Something about monster huntin’?”
“It was my profession prior to coming to this world,” Taze said, doing his best to keep to the story. “Is there an issue you’re having?”
“More what you’ll have in that there forest. You know about those critters?”
“Wolves made of wood and whatnot? I’m not worried,” Taze said.
“They don’t die, y’know,” she warned. “Best y’can hope for is to frighten them off.” She pointed to a far wall, where a great wooden hammer lay suspended on a pair of hooks above the door frame. “Time was, family used to do that easy with that there hammer.” She cackled. “But those were different times. Big Mac don’t feel like he needs it. And I’m no spring chicken myself anymore. Y’got the tools you need to fight?”
Taze drew his sword. “This was given to me by Princess Luna after the Changeling attack. I’m pretty sure it will be all I need. But if not, the smiths gave me a battleaxe.”
“You’ll need an axe, and Big Mac’ll need to draw you up a map.”
“Eeeeup,” Big Mac agreed, even as he started to push himself up with his hooves.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Granny snapped as she pointed an imperious hoof. “You stay right there. I’ll be back with a quill and some paper.”
Big Mac sighed heavily as he flopped back onto the couch again, then groaned in aggravation.
“Hope you heal up fast, big guy.” Taze smirked. “Bedrest is annoying. I know from experience.”
“Eeeeeyup.” Big Mac sighed, then nodded. Granny came back with the quill, ink, and parchment necessary, and the big stallion soon drew up the route Taze would need to follow through the forest, being careful to label each of the dangerous patches for the human to avoid.
“There you go.” Granny nodded. “Since you’re taking over for Big Mac, only makes sense you keep what they pay ya. Somepony’s gotta do the work, after all, and we’ve got our hooves full here tending the crops as it is.”
“You need any firewood while I’m out there?” he asked.
Granny shook her head. “Nah. We got plenty stored up, all nice and seasoned. Don’t you worry bout us none. You just make sure you make it back in one piece.” She rubbed her chin in thought. “If’n ya need a wagon, you can borrow ours. Big Mac won’t be usin’ it any time soon anyway.”
“I managed to get a cart, but thanks for the offer.” Taze nodded. “You all stay safe.” He gave another polite nod and turned to leave with his new map. He gave a small wave as he strolled to his cart and began the trek to the forest.
The smithy at Ponyville was simple in its design. A large set of bellows served to give life to the coals and strengthen the output of the forge fires. The blacksmith who owned the workshop had been more than accommodating to the two smiths from the capital. The one request was that the tools be respected and returned when work was complete for the day. The workshop itself was closed off to avoid fluctuations in temperature that can be caused by stray winds and other inclement weather, though the forge itself was designed to be separate from the stallion’s home to avoid any potential accidents. A quenching barrell and troth both were set for use, depending on the nature of the project involved and the shape that craftsman was hoping to produce.
“Lass, I know we’re designin’ armor for the guard, but I’m pretty sure we can put more into the plates than that,” Steel Weaver remarked as he pointed toward one of the designs.
“We can if we articulate ’em,” Storm Hammer said. “Interlocking plates means we’d never need skin showing.”
“As great as it would be, we don’t have the numbers to make that. After all, it’s just the two of us. We need something protective and lasting until they send us some more smiths, even if they’re just armorsmiths and weaponsmiths.”
“I know.” Storm hammer sighed. “Just feels like we’re being forced to cut corners.”
“Oi’, just because we’re in a tight spot doesn’t mean we’re cuttin’ corners. Just means we’ll have to figure out some workarounds.” Steel Weaver smiled. “Come on, lass, we may not be able to match the legend, but we’re still gonna work toward it. Just got to figure it out, step by step.”
“It will be nice when we have a proper shop again. No offense to our friend, but we’re limited here,” she noted.
“Well, he’s not exactly a smith, just a toolsmith.”
“I know. Just feels cramped, you know?”
“Trust me, I know. I miss our separate workshops.” He sighed.
“Anyway what do you think of this design, then?” she asked, pointing to another one. “It at least has a decent amount of plating.”
Steel Weaver hummed as he looked over the design. “Could work. Doesn’t have much room for adjustment, but it’s not meant to be the final set as it is, anyway, so it should do. Let’s try to make a set of it for now and see how it looks in its end result. Then we can maybe look into completing those ‘special cases.’”
“Fair enough,” she said, picking up her hammer.
“Act all ya’ like. I know you’ve been coming up with designs for those three.” He chuckled as he looked toward his tools.
“Same as you,” she said. “New body type and all that.”
“Different levels of strength as well. Makes things interesting.”
“Don’t think there’s been an opportunity like this in a few thousand years.” Storm Hammer laughed.
“Which means we’ve got to make it count.”
She laughed again. “Then you’d best keep up, old man.”
“Lass, I wouldn’t be laughin’ when you’re the one behind.” Steel Weaver gave a smirk as he turned toward his work.
Back at the campsite, the surveyor team had done its work. And in accordance with the necessary military training, the recruits were used to mark out the dimensions of their future temporary barracks. True to the request forwarded to the princesses, replacement tents had been shipped in for the recruits who had been sleeping outdoors to use. A dark gray Earth Pony stallion with a green mane, tool belt, vest, and hard hat looked between the stakes, tape, and the blueprint that he held between his hooves. The emblem of his special talent was a hard hat, and as such, he had chosen construction as his field.
“It’s a definite start,” he rumbled in a deep voice. “Gonna take us a few more days to get the first bunkhouse built. Timbers and beams for the framework, materials for insulation and walls, you get the picture.” He picked up his pencil from his hard hat and scrawled a few more notes on the blueprint. “And how many more did you say you were expecting here again?” he inquired.
Matthew was wearing his own hard hat, looking over the plans. “Best to design something to house about a hundred troops comfortably. It can be one or two floors. I know it’s more than we have planned for the present, but it’s best to be prepared. Once we get things ready in the forest, this will make a good staging area for the next batches of troops.”
“I can do that.” Hard Hat nodded. “Did you want us to add a kitchen into the facilities or keep that separate?”
“The Kitchen will be saved for the mess hall.”
“Want us to prep a temporary facility for you folks to use till we get everything set?”
Matthew nodded. “That would be good.”
“I’ll talk with the boys about getting things prepped, then.” Hard Hat nodded again. “Anything else you folks want me to add or consider before we get started?”
“Not that I can think of at the moment. If there's anything more, we’ll have Moonshade contact you.”
Hard Hat nodded. “In that case, I’ll get back to Ponyville and make arrangements for the supply deliveries.” He rolled up the blueprints and tossed them back into his tool belt pocket. “And thanks again for the business,” he said by way of farewell before departing.
“You’re welcome,” Matthew responded with a smile.
Matthew sat in the dining area at the Punch Bowl with Moonshade as they nursed Shirley Temples and chatted, waiting for Taze and Shawn to arrive for dinner.
After about ten minutes or so, Taze dragged himself through the door followed closely by Shawn. He plopped into an open seat and dropped a small sack of bits on the table. Shawn, meanwhile, carried a decent sized sack that he hung over his shoulder.
“Hello,” Taze offered tiredly.
“Hey,” Matthew returned. “Seems like you did well today,” he added with a tilt of the head toward the bag of bits.
“Was chopping wood,” Taze said. “The general fear of the forest and Big Mac being injured opened an opportunity.”
“On the plus side, that gives us a chance to show the townsfolk that we’re not scary. On the other hand, though, I hope Big Mac gets well soon. It’s never fun being laid up,” Matthew said.
“Really, you think walking into the place that scares them like it’s no big deal will make me less terrifying?” Taze asked.
“Well, you do have the charter to do that from Princess Luna, so they might see you the same way they see the Guard, just following orders or fulfilling a contract.”
“Considering we’re walking around at most times armed as is,” Shawn spoke up as he rested his offhand on the pommel of his sword, “they already have some opinions.”
“Hopefully good ones?” Matthew ventured. “I mean, we’re here with the guard and serving alongside them. That should hopefully give us at least some weight against any fears they may have on the scale.”
“Only time will tell.” Shawn shrugged. “For now though, how about we look into dinner?”
Matthew nodded. “Moonshade and I were waiting for you to come before we ordered.” He looked curiously toward the sack Shawn had laid next to his chair. “That’s not all bits, is it?”
“No, no,” Shawn dismissed. “They’re apples. I was given some after helping out.”
Matthew nodded. “Those will make for good snacks while we work on getting the cadets in shape.”
“They’re welcome to them,” Taze said, eyeing the area carefully. “Can’t stand apples, myself.”
Matthew gaped at his friend. “You don’t like apples? But … but what about pie, and turnovers, and bear claws, and … and … how can you not like apples?”
“Always preferred raspberries.” Taze shrugged. “Something about the texture of apples just throws me off.”
“Raw, cooked, or juiced?”
“Oh, I like apple juice, but that's about it.” Taze shrugged.
“Well, don’t let the Apples hear that. I have a feeling Miss Applejack will do all in her power to find something apple-related that you’d like.”
“Don’t plan on spreading it around,” Taze noted idly.
“Just be ready for any apple product if we eat over there or they cater something.”
“I’m aware.” Taze shrugged.
“Well, shall we get dinner while I let you know my first impressions about the class?” Matthew suggested.
Shawn hummed as he settled in and scanned a menu. “Let’s hear what you’ve got so far.”