//------------------------------// // The Aftermath // Story: Lord Mayor Applejack // by MyHobby //------------------------------// Fork in the Road President Mangle of Beefland sat down hard at the head of the large carved table. He stared into the middle distance as servant cows and minotaurs attended to him. A bib was wrapped around his solid neck. A fork and a knife were levered gently into his clenched fists. A plate was placed before him, piled high with candied fruits and steaming vegetables. He didn’t register any of it. “Sweet Udders of Goldie Calf, I said no.” Izod lifted his head, a lettuce leaf hanging from between his teeth. His hat wobbled back and forth as his lone guard nudged it forth and back. “What?” “The—the danged thing I said. It was no.” Mangle tried to prop his chin up on his hand, poked himself in the cheek with the fork, and settled for resting his chin on a flexed bicep. “I said no to Celestia.” “Oh, that.” Izod munched on his lettuce leaf. Its crisp green skin crinkled and crunched before he swallowed the resulting mush. “What about it?” “I said no.” Mangle’s chin threatened to slide down the side of his bicep. “I said no to Celestia.” “That vhas three days agoo,” Seabreeze muttered. “Ponies have beelt castles in less time.” The little High Pariah of Breezy Bastion limped his way across the table and snatched a sugary blueberry from Mangle’s bounty. “Doon’t wunt to let it goo to waste.” Izod stared at Mangle’s plate for a second before he, too, absconded with a candied strawberry. “He’s taking it pretty hard.” “I said no,” Mangle said, “to Celestia.” The sunroof overhead creaked. Shardscale stuck her head inside. “To date, I have three pages worth of Mangle’s ‘I said no’ speech.” “I said no.” Shardscale scribbled. “And baby makes four.” Izod grimaced as his hat dragged him over the side of his chair. His head popped back up sans hat, his robes fluttering. “Well, how do we snap him out of it?” Seabreeze waved a hoof. “Slap him oontil he cooms to his senses!” “Dunk his head in ice water?” Shardscale suggested. “I said no.” Mangle’s expression changed. Rather than his thousand-yard stare, he had a raised eyebrow and a cocked lip. “I said no?” His lips pressed together. “I said no to Celestia?” Shard gritted her pointy teeth. “Oop. Hold on to your Houyhnhnms, folks. Here comes the storm.” Mangle’s eyes lit up. “I said no to Celestia!” He grinned. “I said no to Celestia!” He pumped his fist. “Oh yeah! All hail Prez Mangle, Beeflander supreme!” He pointed his index fingers at Seabreeze, who stumbled back at the force of the sudden change. “Mooyah! I said no to Celestia and she had to listen! Who’s the boss of the world now!?” Izod ducked his head beneath the table. “Ahuh. Now he’s scary. When did Mangle get scary? When did he get scarier than Andean?” Seabreeze glared up at Shard. “Now can I slap him, eyew oovergrown gecko?” Shardscale stuck her long, snaking tongue out. “Give it five minutes, pipsqueak. He’ll run out of steam.” “Steam?” Mangle stood up, sending his chair tumbling backward. He placed his hands on his hips and gave them his most heroic grin. It was maybe a little bit cheesy. “I’ll bet Celestia was pretty steamed when I gave her what-for! Ain’t nobody can tell ol’ Mangle M. Mangle what to do!” Izod frowned. “Is his middle name Mangle, too?” “No,” Shard said, “it’s Moocow.” Seabreeze leaned on his tiny pair of crutches. “I’m gooing to slap him, now.” Shardscale snarled. “Leave him alone.” “What?” Seabreeze flicked his bushy tail. “Et’s noot like I can hurt him!” “It’s the principle of the thing,” Shard replied. “He’s going through something right now.” “Gooing through soomting?” Seabreeze’s eyes widened. His snout scrunched up. “Gooing through soomting?” He picked up a crutch and waggled it at Shard. “Loosing a looved oone is gooing through soomting. Facing an eelness is gooing through soomting. Puberty is gooing through soomting!” Seabreeze spread his slightly wrinkly wings before Mangle. “Megalomania is noot gooing through—huh?” Mangle had fallen silent. His grin was frozen on his face, his teeth grinding together. His well-toned muscles trembled beneath the skin. His eyes gazed at nothing and everything. Shardscale cleared her throat. “Five… four… three… two…” “I said no. To Celestia.” Mangle folded like a cheap lawn chair. Seabreeze walked to the edge of the table and looked down, his eyes lidded. Izod followed close behind, having returned his magnificent hat to its rightful perch on his head. Shardscale nodded sagely. Mangle rolled himself into a ball. His hands clutched his knees tight, while his tail was tucked firmly between his legs. He shivered all over. “By the third and fourth stomachs… I said no to Celestia.” “That.” Shardscale pointed a claw. “That’s what I’m talking about.” “Hayeeeeeee,” Mangle screamed quietly. “She’s gonna drop the sun on us.” “Um.” Seabreeze put his forehooves over the edge of the table. “Um…” Izod tiptoed up to Mangle. After a second of silent contemplation, he placed a hoof on the minotaur’s shoulder. “There, there.” He blinked up at Shardscale. “Am I doing this right? Should I be promising him candy if he shuts up?” “He might be a little old for that,” she said. “Oh.” Izod’s hat tilted forward and almost collapsed onto Mangle before the donkey caught it. “It always worked for me.” “Oond oonce again, Izod becoomes the perfect moodle oof hooves-ooff parenting.” Seabreeze motioned to Aida the aide, who carried him down to the floor. He hobbled toward Mangle, his bandaged rear hooves thumping on the floor. “Now eyew leesten here, President! Celestia is noot gooing to drop the sun on eyew, she is noot gooing to sever ties with Beefland, and she’s noot gooing to stoop sending eyew birthday cards!” Mangle lifted his head, his eyes bulging. “B-but I said no!” “Eyes, eyew deed.” Seabreeze thumped a hoof. “Eyew said noo to Celestia. Eyew’re proobably the first person to say noo to Celestia in five-hundred years!” Izod wobbled. “Well, Andean said no a lot—” “Shut oop! I’m trying to make a point!” Seabreeze climbed up onto Mangle’s nose. “Eyew’re oone of the few to say noo.” He crossed his forelegs. “Maybe she needed it.” Shardscale’s scaly eyebrows came together. “Hay, now.” “Eyew can shut oop, too!” Seabreeze said. “Noopoony is willing to tell her when she’s goot a bad idea, oor when she’s stepping oover the line between caution and controol! Andean was right, she’s the oone who rules this world! Everypoony is afraid of her!” Seabreeze chewed on his lower lip. His eyes fell to his hooves. “She’s noot infallible, and she fergets it. Vhee all ferget it. Maybe thees can help us remember.” Scribble, scribble, scribble. “I think he was wrong to destroy the mirror.” “That’s noot the point eyew insufferable, nitwitted cauldron!” Seabreeze bopped Mangle’s nose. “Eyes, that was a rideeculoosly stoopid moove. But the point is that maybe vhee can actually stand oop to Celestia when vhee need to!” Mangle sat up, Seabreeze still balanced on his nose. He looked at the breezie cross-eyed. “I guess that’s—” “But—” Izod raised a hoof and fell over backwards. “Oof! But when have we ever needed to do that?” “She’s not especially a tyrannical dictator, you know,” Shard said. “But she’s steell joost a poony.” Seabreeze tugged at his tight collar. “Joost like all oof us.” He shrugged. “And vhee all make mistakes.” Mangle’s shoulders drooped. “Some bigger than others.” “Well, that goos without saying.” Seabreeze smirked. “After all, soompoony had to elect us.” “I wasn’t elected,” Izod said. “Me either,” Mangle said. “Yeah, count me out on that one,” Shardscale said. (*): Untranslatable breezie curse that accuses the target of distasteful moral standing and brings up its offensive halitosis. Seabreeze’s teeth ground together. “Heffershuffer (*) democracies.” Mangle let Seabreeze walk onto his finger and set him on the table. He set his chair upright and leaned on the armrest. “So, are we willing to take that kinda responsibility? Are we willing to be ready to tell Celestia no if we think she’s wrong?” Izod blew a snort through his nose. “You already did.” Mangle lowered his eyelids. “Yes, we discussed that.” “Well I am!” Seabreeze plucked a raspberry off Mangle’s plate. “Vhee’re all leaders oond deeplomats for a reason! Vhee know how to run the world!” He nodded, his fluffy mane bobbing along. “If she wunts to advise us, she can advise us! If we doon’t think she’s right, we ignore her advice!” Shard scratched her neck. “Ignoring advice is a bad, bad thing, even if you don’t agree with it. Take it from someone who hangs around dragons.” Seabreeze dropped to his rump and held his hooves skyward. “Are eyew deleeberately ignoring all my points!?” Shard’s teeth glinted in the light of the lanterns. “I take issue with the little details.” “Alright, alright,” Mangle said. “Quit being pedantic. The fact remains.” He sat in his chair and touched one of his horns. “Can we agree to tell Celestia no when we need to? Can we agree to only do it when we know it’s important?” The quiet extended to every corner of the room, save for the sound of Shardscale’s pen. Scribble, scribble, scribble. “No,” Izod said. “I can’t.” When all eyes shot to him in surprise, he continued, “What right to I have to say no to somepony with her experience and wisdom? She’s been there since almost the beginning of everything. I’ve just been…” His hat tumbled to the ground. He didn’t notice. “I’ve just been living under her shadow and doing what people tell me to do. It’s all I know. And that’s that.” He rubbed his hooves together. “She’s not infallible, but she’s still amazing.” Mangle rubbed his eyes. “And the roadblock materializes. Beefy.” He peered between his fingers. “You’re willing to make Lightninggale essentially an Equestrian protectorate?” Izod squirmed. “Equestria does well with her in charge.” Seabreeze popped his lips. “True. But it dooesn’t change anyting.” Mangle looked up. “What about you, Shard? Or is telling a leader no against some kinda chronicler’s creed?” “No such thing,” she said. “But if you ask me, I’m staying the heck out of this.” Seabreeze squinted up at the minotaur. “Soo it’s joost eyew and me?” Mangle sat back and looked around the room. “Unless the zebras suddenly decide to head back to Beefland and visit, looks like.” Seabreeze spat on his hoof and held it out. “Then let’s doo it.” Mangle raised an eyebrow. He mirrored Seabreeze with his fist and held it close to the breezie. The hoofbump was performed, and the promise sealed. Izod blinked as their saliva mingled. “Ew.” “Yeah,” Shardscale said, “definitely not getting in on any of that action.” Scribble, scribble, scribble. Biblical Truths “And the Lord opened the mouth of the ass, and she said unto Balaam, What have I done unto thee, that thou hast smitten me these three times?” Megan read over the passage again. Her eyes tracked over the entire story, how a prophet’s donkey had fallen out from under him to prevent an angel from slaying them both. How the donkey had gained the ability to speak and argue, even for just a brief moment. “Pa, you said that everything in the Bible is true.” Megan peered through the cloth covering the wagon to stare at the man driving their oxen. “Right?” Jeremiah Williams pulled his pipe out of his mouth. “I believe it is, darling. Why do you ask?” Megan closed the Bible and placed it atop another book she’d been reading, a collection of Aesop’s Fables. Another book with talking animals. “Because that creature that brought me back, that pony, she spoke to me.” Jeremiah turned his head. His long, scruffy beard was coated with dust. His skin was dark and dry from the hours of direct sunlight. His nose was crooked from younger, wilder days. His eyes sparkled. “So the good Lord still opens mouths, then?” “I think it was my ears that were opened.” Megan twiddled her thumbs. “If that makes sense.” The prairie schooner jolted. Jeremiah put a hand on the side of the wagon to keep from tumbling over. “What did the pony say to you?” “She said her name is Applejack,” Megan said. “She said she was gonna get me home, no matter what.” Her fingers traced along the cover of Aesop’s Fables. “And then she did.” Jeremiah frowned. His eyes scanned the terrain which was just starting to level out. “You died, Megan. You were dead, gone over the cliff with the horses. I think I about died with you.” He blinked rapidly a few times. “But now you aren’t. Now you’re alive again. I get the feeling that I’m liable to believe that a horse can talk, too.” Megan wrapped her arms around her legs. “There were others, too. Some of them spoke. Big creatures with wings. Tall men with horns. A… donkey with a big hat.” Her father blew a smoke ring. He watched it float away across the fields. “Sounds like angels sent to protect you.” He squinted. “Except for that last one.” “They weren’t angels.” Megan ran her fingers through her hair until they got caught in a tangle. “They… made mistakes. They argued. They fought. They acted like…” She watched her father closely. “Like our neighbors back home.” “Is Megan seeing things again?” her brother said from beside the wagon. “Is she delirious? Does she need more water?” “I’m not delirious!” “She’s fine, Daniel.” Jeremiah kept a tight grip on the reigns. “Go see how Ma’s doing, okay?” Daniel grumbled as he walked away. “I believe you, Megan,” Jeremiah said. “But other folks don’t know what you went through. What we all went through. Do you understand?” Megan rested her chin on her knees. “They’ll think I’m insane.” “And you aren’t.” He reached a hand back and gripped her shoulder. “You’re the nicest, smartest, prettiest little lady in the west, you hear?” He returned his hand to driving. “But people… can be mighty hard to come to understand.” Megan pulled herself through the wagon to sit by her father’s side. She rested her head on his shoulder. “I have to keep it inside, don’t I? I can’t tell anyone.” Jeremiah kissed her on the top of her head. “There’ll come a time when you can talk about it. There’ll come a time when people will see what you’ve got to say is true. Maybe this year, maybe a few years down the line, the truth ’ll come out.” He sighed as the sun dipped towards the horizon. “Until then, just be careful, darling.” “I will, Pa.” They continued towards the sunset at the sedate pace of the oxen. Their new home waited for them, a land of fertile soil and lush greens. Away from the grime and soot of the towns. Away from everything they’d ever known. Their guide, Bartholomew, waited up ahead, having picked out a camp for the night. “I’m gonna find Applejack again someday,” Megan said. “Even if it takes me years. I’m gonna find her and I’m gonna thank her.” “Be sure to thank her for me, too,” Jeremiah said. “I owe her a lot.” Megan laced her fingers around his. “I’m just not sure where to start looking.” “I got one idea,” Jeremiah said. “And that’s that you aren’t gonna go back the way you came.” Megan frowned. “Why’s that?” “Things might happen twice, sure enough,” he said, “but never in exactly the same way.” They reached the campsite and dismounted the wagon. Jeremiah tied up the oxen while Megan put supper together. Her mother, Elyse Williams, walked up with Daniel in tow. She carried a few edible plants in a basket. “Here are some herbs for supper, dear,” Elyse said. “Bartholomew says the roots make for good soup.” Daniel sat next to Megan as she mixed up the ingredients. He wrinkled his nose. “Hardtack again?” “It’s hardtack or rocks, Danny.” Megan snapped a piece of the hard cracker in half. “Although, the rocks probably aren’t as hard.” Daniel laughed. He watched their father build a fire for the middle of the camp. Wagons rolled all around as they formed a protective circle. “Are you alright, Meg?” Megan focused on the soup. “You keep asking me that and I keep answering the same.” Daniel popped his knuckles. “I want to hear it from your mouth. Are you alright?” “Quit popping your fingers, you’re distracting me.” She added a bit of precious water to the mixture. “And I’m fine.” He drew in the dirt with a finger. “Are you sure? You keep talking about what you saw, but none of it is possible.” “No. All of it is new.” She pouted. “There’s a difference.” She lifted her pot and carried it over to the fire. “Besides, you saw Applejack, too. Was she just my imagination?” Daniel sighed. He took off his hat and mussed his hair. “No. She wasn’t.” Sometime after supper, the sky was dark and starry. The fire burned bright as rifle-wielding men kept watch on the camp from without. Elyse brought out her hammer dulcimer and played a tune as the pioneers sang. Megan snuggled herself in her blankets beneath the wagon, guarding against the coming morning dew. She giggled when Jeremiah pulled Elyse into a dance. They gave Bartholomew the dulcimer to play. Several others joined in the merry twirl, despite the aches and pains of the day. Megan rolled over to face away. They had cause to celebrate. They were mere days away from the land they’d purchased. She herself couldn’t wait to start building her new home. She stared out into a darkness that held who knew what? Natives, mountain lions, rattlesnakes, any other number of things that could kill them. And also, another world with more things that wanted to kill her. But also friends. Malevolent Medley A wight crept out of a tomb. The fog covering the barrow downs of Beefland acted as a perfect cloak for its approach. Its malformed nose twitched, directing it to an intruder. Or perhaps a meal. It had taken the form of the legendary Minotaur Lord Spearpoint, and had appropriated his namesake trademark for its own use. His bared ribcage, in reality his disguised belly and chest, whistled in the low wind. His gangly, white limbs reached out and gently pulled a scraggly bush to the side. There was a quadruped creature covered in a long, hooded cape. A pony, then. Or a zebra. Or a donkey. The wight slobbered; all of those choices sounded delicious. It crept around the crumbled barrow of Wrathshield. That used to be its home, before a whole gaggle of intruders assaulted it and sent it crumbling to the ground. It had served the wight decently over the years, and it was a shame to see it go. Still, there were plenty of barrows in the downs. Plenty of places to hide. Plenty of dark places from which to spring. The wight’s prey stood before the demolished tomb. The four-legged something stuck a hoof out and dug through the debris until it found a hole leading downward. It nodded in satisfaction and crawled through. The wight drooled. Nowhere for the good eats to run! It stretched and morphed like rubber as it followed the pony into the heart of the demolished tomb. It left its spear outside after finding it would not fit. It slithered and slunked and snarled. It squinted its black eyes and caught sight of its target. It was for sure a pony, judging by the size and shape of its hooves. A delicacy. It lifted its forelegs aloft as it pushed stones aside, searching for something. Its tan coat was covered in dirt and dust. The wight moaned as it staggered out of the mist, looking for all the world like a half-decayed zombie minotaur. It reached out its hands to grasp the trapped pony. There was a flash, a snap, and the wight felt lightning course through its limbs. It screamed in agony as it fell to the ground, shivering all the while. “Ahh-ah-ah, ahhh-ah.” A voice sang out from beneath the hood. The pony shook its head. It was then that the wight’s eyes were drawn to the glowing orb floating before the pony. It was attached to the pony’s neck by a golden chain, forming a sort of necklace. Magic energy flowed from the orb to the wight, giving it a jolt every time the pony hit a note. “Ahh-ah-ah, ahhh-ah.” The pony lifted the wight aloft in the magic currents. It turned around, leaving the monster to wiggle helplessly. The pony returned to its previous task of digging through the rubble. “Me and you, you and me,” the pony sang, “it’s plain to see who is better.” The pony tapped a hoof against the ground. The magic dropped the wight on its face and moved to hold a small glass fragment up. It reflected the yellow light of the orb. “Equestria thinks we’re one and the same thing.” The pony pulled off its hood, revealing a gray mane to go with its tan coat. She took the glass in her hooves and admired her reflection. The glass was formed into a perfect triangle, all sides and angles equal down to the minutest fraction. “But what’s so wrong with a magical reflection?” Miss Merry Mare, former Lord Mayor of Ponyville, gave the wight a wink. “’Cause with this thing, I’m winning an election!”