//------------------------------// // Chapter 2: Foreign Relations // Story: One in a Trillion: Lemons // by UnkleBumbleHeck //------------------------------// Considerin' the amount of time left before the gala - two days, t' be exact - I decided I had to suit up and leave right away. Crimson an' I parted ways just after 9 AM, lookin' to get as much time in our favor as we could. Canterlot had its own courier office, but bein' self employed, obviously I couldn't use none of their equipment. B'sides, they was owned by the government, and not to speak poorly of the Princess or nothin', but a government job is the quickest way to an unhappy retirement and a grave. 'Least, in my opinion. Anyhorse, since I wasn't commissioned by the Canterlot Express Office I had to procure myself a suitable means of transportin' these platters. Now, fer what it's worth, a plain ol' fruit cart woulda done well enough, but I was in the market for a proper courier's totin' cart. Cousin of mine an' brother of Rolo Lucatiel (whom was gettin' initiated into the Royal Guard at the ceremony followin' the gala), Yuri Lucatiel, was a retired mercenary, and ran his own little carpenter's shop just outside of Canterlot city. Cousin Yuri lived in the lower residential district, but his shop was actually all the way out in the industrial park. Quite a trek to make every mornin' if you ask me, considerin' he's a unicorn. I dunno, maybe he does that teleportin' magic to get between them places. Really it ain't too big a concern anyhow, cus' I gots wings. Me and Crimson had ate breakfast at one of the many cafes in Canterlot, pickin' to go to her apparent favorite, someplace called the Red Shogun. Real exotic, oriental food from someplace I ain't ne'er been. I payed fer both our meals, much against Crimson's protest, and once we'd parted ways I took off and headed towards home to grab my delivery gear. I fly jus' about everywhere I go, if'n theys enough room fer me to fly in. Saves on time tremendously. My place, 'least there in Canterlot, was in the lower residential district, near the train station. I also had a little place up in Cloudsdale, but it don't see much use on account of delivery business just bein' more active down on solid ground. So I made my way over the town square and east, towards the train station, watchin' ponies down below goin' about their mornin's. The lower residential district wasn't as distinct as its upper counterpart, considerin' most of the buildings looked about the same as the ones in the commercial district. My house was distinct enough for me though, mostly because it was mine and I knew it well. Squat little 2 story yellow townhouse on East 23rd street, far end from town square. On the front I had put up a sign fer my delivery business, consistin' of my name, a carvin' of some wings, and the words "Fastest courier out of Cloudsdale!" on real pretty cherry wood, stained an' all fancified up by Yuri, who I had commissioned when I started business to make that as well as several of my other delivery-related items. I landed along E-23rd and trotted up to my front door, unlocked it and hurried on inside. The lower floor I had made mostly to look like a proper delivery office, clearin' out the front room to be my reception area. The kitchen was to the left through a door and what had been the dinin' room, but I had closed the kitchen off, puttin' in a full wall in place of the open bar that had separated the dinin' room an' it, and put a door in. The dinin' room I had made into my office proper, and the livin' room to the right of the foyer was made into more or less a storage room. That's where I went, huntin' fer my saddlebags an' my flight coat. I found my coat layin' on the old coffee table, along with my goggles. I took 'em both, throwin' on my coat an' puttin' my goggles on, lettin' 'em rest on my forehead. Saddlebags took a bit of huntin' though. They weren't in their usual spot, which set off a couple of alarms in my head. I kept some important things in them bags! Eventually my worries were alieved, 'cause I found the bags upstairs, which was my actual living space. I made sure to check the contents to make sure everythin' was in there. Notepad, pens, lighter, knife, and my rope, all in place as they shoulda been. I couldn't rightly recall what caused me to put my bags upstairs, but it didn't much matter, since everything was still there. Just a change in the usual routine, nothin' to panic 'bout just yet. I guess I oughtta explain what makes me so worried about my equipment like that. See, first an' foremost, that knife was a gift from my father. It's a 6 inch Bowie knife, with teeth marks in it from when he used to use it. An' considerin' it's from family, it's worth more t' me than jus' about anything else I own. I was raised in what most ponies these days would consider the old ways. Respect your elders, protect the young, do your work right and don't be a lazy-good-fer-nothin' hippie. Well, I personally ain't got nothin' against hippies, or any social denotationizin' fer that matter, aside from a couple of the... Weirder things. Fer example, our time system is apparently based upon some banishment of a second princess. To the moon! Yeah, right. The day a horse gets on the moon is the day dragons talk. Anyhorse, speakin' of dragons, I'd say my knife ain't gonna mean much to a giant fire breathin' lizard. Not to speak poorly of me dad's knife, of course! But, really... This had me a'thinkin'. If'n I was to get into an encounter with that dragon, has anypony ever actually slain a dragon b'fore? And, giant fire breathin' lizard that it is, it's a livin' being. Dragons is smart, they'd have to be to be that big and still catch prey. That knife o' mine wasn't never used fer nothin' other than carvin' an cuttin' wood. Dagnabbit, it jus' don't sit right with me t' use me dad's knife like that. Jus' the thought of havin' to harm anything livin' like that irks me somethin' awful. An' while we're on the topic of hurtin' livin' things, let's talk about them changie-things. Changerings. Changey-wings? Whatever. The reason the railways was out, see, was apparently due to an actual attack on Equestria by them things. Folks'll tell ya different stories dependin' on who you ask, but the fact of the matter is, we've been attacked. Now, it has been officially stated by Princess Celestia herself that all'a them soldier bucks on that train made it home safely (probably 'cause they was all pegasi) but still. There hasn't been no violence ner even a single word o' war fer longer than anypony can rightly tell you. But blowin' up a railway, an' tryin' to blow up a train full'a Equestria's finest... Them's warrin' actions. T'ain't right. I gotta stop lettin' myself think on stuff like that, gonna give myself a complex or somthin'. ... Well, I was on my way to Yuri's place, just'a coastin' along on my wings, when I caught the buck on the road goin' back towards the city proper. I flew on down to catch him up, doin' a tabletop flip just for the hay of it. (A tabletop flip is a half backflip and a half roll at the same time, gettin' you turned round and goin' the other way.) "Well howdy there, cousin!" I greeted Yuri as I came to land beside him. "You was jus' the pony I was lookin' fer." Yuri stopped walkin' and looked me up an' down. "Hello, Barron. Why are you looking for me, do you have a delivery for me?" His family, the Lucatiels, as you could probably guess fer their names, came from a pretty foreign place, Saddle Arabia if I ain't mistaken. Yuri had lived in Saddle Arabia fer most of his life, an' that's where he'd been a mercenary, b'fore they all moved to Equestria. Now that was about 20 years ago, and Yuri was 30 then, so how his brother is 18 is beyond me. T'ain't none of my concern anyhow. "Not quite, nope. I do have a request for you, though." I reached into my bags an' pulled out my notepad, an' hoofed it over to him. "I need to know if you can get me somethin' like that in say, ASAP?" I had, on the first page, drawn a sketch of the kind of cart I was lookin' fer. "I got an urgent delivery to make, and I'm afraid my old apple cart ain't gonna cut it." Well, he looked it over for a moment, holdin' the notepad in that magic of his, makin' it glow the same greenish color that was around his horn. I'd put plenty of details and dimensions on there for him, knowin' a bit about carpentry myself, and he seemed to appreciate it, cus' he nodded his head as he floated the notepad back over to me. "You are in need of a delivery wagon? I will do this for you. With your summary payment." He definitely had a foreign way with words, that's fer sure. "Well, I can pay just about as much as you ask fer, if'n you ain't plannin' on chargin' me an unfair price." Yuri shook his head slightly, sayin', "I am of honor, Mister Barron. I only demand payment for services rendered." Yup, definitely foreign. "Well all right then! So you'll do it for me?" I asked him, alightin' on my wings in my excitement. "Yes. One condition." His horn lit up again, and outta thin air popped a folded piece of paper which he floated over to me where I was slowly returnin' back to the ground. "Deliver this to Steig. When you return I shall have this wagon made for you. With your payment." "Sounds like a deal then, cousin!" I took the paper and put it in one of the side pockets in my bag so I'd remember where it was. "Très bon." And with that, his horn lit up yet again and he popped away. So he does teleport back an' forth! This was goin' to take no time at all to make a delivery like this. A little piece of paper like that? Shoot, I'd bet he'd be nowhere near finished puttin' that cart together by the time I got back to him. Alightin' again, I took off towards Canterlot Square, where Steig's smithy was. ... It was already astonishin'ly busy out in town square, all sorts'a ponies goin' round doin' stars-knows-what. I landed on the sidewalk in front of Steig's smithy, cleverly labeled "The Steigery" by the big metal sign that hung above his door. I had seen the smoke comin' from his chimneys as I flew into the city, an' I could already smell the coals burnin'. A darn good smell. Steppin' into the shop was like steppin' into a furnace. He had 3 separate forges, and all 3 of 'em were on full choke. He also had music playin' from somewhere, sounded like something you'd catch some angsty teenage colt listenin' to. This fella, Steig, was from Stalliongrad, an earth pony with a wickedly red mohawk and a coat of fur turned black from tendin' the forges so much. You could just make out his actual coat color in a couple'a places, a real soft pink. Steig was runnin' full gallop across the main room of his smithy between the 3 forges, movin' with machine-like precision, yankin' out pieces of the hot metal with his teeth, clampin' em down on the anvil an' hammerin' on 'em with his steel-clad hooves at a rate of so many hoof-beats a second it sounded like one of those big ol' gatlin' guns. Then he'd stuff it back into the furnace an' run off to another t' do the same thing. "Privyet, courier." He said in between furnaces. The fella spoke Equestrian jus' fine, but he liked to mix in his own language sometimes too, which I didn't mind. His voice always amazed me by how deep it was. Fella sounded like an earthquake. "Howdy, partner," I hollered over the ti-ti-ti-ti-ting of his steel hooves hammerin' on red hot metal. "Got a delivery fer ya!" Steig took a moment to finish beatin' on what was lookin' to be turnin' into a fryin' pan, b'fore droppin' it into a trough of water beside the anvil and runnin' to dip the other whatsits into the water as well. He then came over to me and, pullin' off one of the big steel horseshoes, took out the set of steel teeth guards in his mouth and put 'em in the pocket of his blacksmith's apron, so he could speak properly. This buck had this stuff down to a science. "A delivery? What delivery is this? Let's see it." You know, I think I'm startin' to see a trend with foreign ponies and weird dialects. I pulled the folded paper out from the pocket where I'd put it and hoofed it over to him. "From Yuri. Caught him on his way up here and ended up deliverin' this for him so he could get back to work." "Da, da. Yuri, a good guy," his voice rumbled as he unfolded the paper with his un-clad hoof. Once unfolded a check fell out, which he caught and moved to set down on the counter in the front of the shop. Fella took about a whole 2 seconds to look over the order form and the check b'fore trottin' off to one of the back rooms. While he was in there, the hard rock song ended and some completely contrasting sort of jazzy stuff came on. Sounded really good actually. Saxophone seemed t' be the main instrument, but I could make out cymbals and drums, a couple other brass instruments and even a piano. Then, out of nowhere there was the sound of a DJ scratchin' on a vinyl and some vocals came in, along with a couple more saxophones an' some dirty soundin' bass rips. 'Every - everything we do' 'Oh - oh it's all for you' 'Go ahead and run' 'Go ahead and try to hide' New age music was such a rollercoaster. Steig came walkin' back into the main room carryin' a big double-bladed ax with his teeth. He had to tilt his head sideways to fit the ax through the doorway from the backroom. I s'pose this fella is the dentist's favorite. He set the big ax down on the counter, then pulled open one of the drawers on his side of the counter and took out a length of cloth. It looked pretty thick, which I guess would make sense considerin' he started wrappin' the ax in it. He must get a dozen orders like this every day, the way he wrapped it up so fast. A true master of his art. After he finished wrapping and tying up the ax he got out a sheet of paper from another of the droors. "Need a pen?" I offered as I grabbed one out of my bags. "Ah. spacibo, friend. Thank you." He took my pen and started writin' somethin' on the paper. "This is for officer who stops you," he explained. I looked over, and sure enough it looked like the paper was pre-printed for use as a delivery form, which would keep me out of any trouble with the guards, considerin' an ax ain't exactly somethin' they want civilians to be carryin' around openly. "Well, all righty then!" I whinnied as I turned to leave, ax in tow on my back. I stopped though, another idea comin' to mind. "Hey, uh, wild question here, but say somepony had to defend themselves. Particularly against a... Well, a dragon. What kinda weapon would y'all recommend against one of them?" He already had his gear back on and was about t' start hammerin' away again. As I spoke to him about the whole dragon thing he gave me this sorta unbothered look, like I wasn't even talkin' 'bout dragons. "In dealing with dragons," Steig began to explain, about as casually as his mohawk wearin' figure could allow. "One would hope to be much further away than the length of a blade. One should also consider legal repercussions of murdering a dragon." I was about to retort about how I had said 'defend' but he waved it off. "I would say, if you run from a dragon, you would want to breath more fire than he can, yes?" He said and laughed, to which I laughed as well. "You need a carry permit for it, but I find 12 gauge slugs to be best for fending off armored opponents. Perhaps not killing, but hurting enough to scare off." The idea of a pony scarin' off a dragon was about as unparsable as a mare in the moon. Then again, 12 gauge slugs ain't no joke. "Carry permit huh? 'Fraid I ain't got one of them, and ain't enough time to get one. Well, thanks anyways." And at that, I left the Steigery and took off for Yuri's carpentry shop. This whole dragon thing really had me worked up. Was I really willin' to tangle with a dragon? ... Now, 'fore y'all go makin' any undue assumptions 'bout yours truly, I ain't got no interest in me fellow stallion. I am definitely battin' fer the other team here. That said, when I walked into Yuri's shop, a smell hit me that jus' about put me on the floor. Some real nice dressed fella was talkin' to Yuri, and he had some real mean smellin' perfume on! I'd bet you it cost more than gold and was probably made of the stuff too, along with unicorn piss and a whale's tears. Or some other obscene bunch of nastiness. Still smelled real nice, though. Puttin' that outta my head 'fore I started havin' some real tough questions to answer fer myself, I stepped on in and went to unstrappin' the ax from my back. I had indeed been stopped by the guards on 3 separate occasions, but each time I showed 'em that delivery form from Steig and the let me go on my way without a problem. Lotta folks round here have pretty high regards for that fella. "Ah, Mister Barron." Yuri addressed me. He and I had choice words when we first met and he called me 'Mister Skyes'. That was my father's title, and I ain't about to take it from him. "This is the package?" The fancified lookin' fella in the nice shirt an' vest was a unicorn, with a white coat and a darkly colored swept back mane. He looked over at the ax as it got wrapped in Yuri's greenish magic. "My my, Yuri." The fancy fella said. He definitely sounded like he was from Canterlot. Soft spoken, kinda feminine almost. "Is this the type of equipment you use in your work?" Yuri went to removing the cloth wrap from the ax, b'fore inspectin' it, with this sort of bored look on his face. "What, the ax or the courier?" They both chuckled at that, though I didn't quite get the humor. Maybe I'm the foreign one? "Sigmund, this is Barron. My cousin." Yuri continued inspecting the ax a bit longer before popping it out of existence, probably storing it someplace ain't nopony ever seen but him. "Barron, this is my friend. Sigmund is from Saddle Arabia, like me. His family works in logging." Apparently not from Canterlot at all then. "Well howdy there, Sigmund!" I exclaimed, liftin' my hoof to shake his. "Name's Barron Skyes, and I'm the fastest courier outta Cloudsdale!" He eyed me over for just a moment, then went ahead and shook my hoof. "A pleasure. You certainly do seem quite a fast delivery pony according to Yuri here. I'll have to keep you in mind, I might have a job for you someday." "As long as it pays good and it don't kill me, you can bet I'll get the job done!" I exclaimed. "Very well, then." Sigmund turned back to Yuri. "Thank you, Yuri. I'm sure this arrangement of ours will prove beneficial to both of us." And with that the fine gentlestallion trotted out the door. He had to of been royalty, or somethin'. Somehow I can't see loggin' gettin' you lookin' that fancy. "Your wagon is complete." Yuri said in his usual dronin' voice. I don't think he ever left all the seriousness of his old merc days behind. It wasn't too surprizing that he'd already had it done by the time I got done with his delivery. That fella had such precise control with his magic he could move each part of whatever he was buildin' at the same time, along with his tools. Apparently he learned to do that by weildin' multiple weapons at once, back when he was younger. Imagine, havin' 6 or 7 different guns all pointed at you, with only one guy behind the triggers. Makes you wonder what the ax was for. "I'm mighty grateful of you, cousin. This'll help a whole lot deliverin' them platters all the way from Ponyville." "Of course," he said in an almost happier tone. He then started towards a door on the right which lead to his workshop proper. I'd been in there a couple of times, and it was always different each time, new projects always coverin' a lot of the floor space and a bunch of tools set all around. "Let me show you the wagon." We went into his workshop, and sure enough it was in yet another arrangement. The wagon was the only thing on the main work floor this time, though. And boy was it a wagon! It was more like a small cart shaped like a wagon, in fact that's exactly what it was. It was smaller than my old apple cart, the dimensions 24 inches wide by 36 inches long, with a nice bowed cover over the top of it and 18 inch high sides. It was painted a nice navy blue with a set of gorgeous little wheels with a soft oilin' to make the natural beauty of the teak wood stand out. The cloth cover was a gentle off white, comin' up about another 16 inches above the sides of the wagon itself. On the sides of the wagon Yuri had burned in my usual logo, same as the sign at my front door. That fella sure was a master. "Well cousin, how much you askin' fer?" I queried after inspecting the cart. That was one thing you could count on about Yuri, he'd always have a price for anything he done for ya. Yuri pondered that for a moment. "Per services rendered, resources used, work hours... 65 bits." No way. "65 bits? Did you forget to put in the nails or somethin'? There's no way you can honestly charge that cheap!" Yuri chuckled a bit. "You did perform that delivery, consider that as part of the payment." That ax must have been somethin' pretty important to him, 'cus usually havin' somethin' like that built would cost at least 3 times as much! "Well hay, cuz, that's mighty generous of you." I went ahead and wrote him a check for 65 bits. Imagine if I tried to pay in actual coin! Thank Celestia for the banking system. ... That new cart was fantastic! I'd bet Yuri ain't never built anything so good. Then again, I know he has. All his work is always so dern perfect, it's a wonder he ended up a mercenary at all. I'd asked him what got him into that business, but all he said was it wasn't a choice. Huh, I guess everypony's gotta have their secrets. It was about 10:30 AM when I left Canterlot, headed south for Ponyville. I'd have to go through the plains between here and there, but as long as that dragon that was apparently terrorizin' folks out there didn't decide it wanted courier for dinner, I would probably be able to make it to Ponyville by dusk. Now that might sound good, 'cus that's real fast for such a long distance, but it's still not quick enough. I had no idea how I was goin' to convince the Apples to provide more apples for the platters in time to get them made and delivered back to Canterlot. If'n they do let me use some of their apples tonight, I'd still have to impose so on them folks at Sugarcube Corner, and out in a rural town like Ponyville, shops close an awful lot earlier than they do in cities like Canterlot. Like, a couple hours b'fore dusk. So, if I ain't able to get them platters done by the first night, I'll have to get 'em done the next day and do a rush delivery overnight. That said, there's really no way fer me to not get the platters delivered, as long as the Apple family is willin' to provide s'more apples, and as long as the couple at Sugarcube Corner is willin' to make the platters. Well hay, if they were to give me the recipe, I could probably make the dern things myself! But right now I had to focus on gettin' there first. Finally out of the city limits, I was able to fly as fast as I wanted. I slid my goggles down over my eyes, and, new totin' cart in tow, sent my wings into full throttle. Right away I sped off like a bullet. By Celestia it's good to be a pegasus! There's really not much different between the different races, aside from the obvious physical and magical differences. Except for one thing, the earth ponies. Them folk are the most tenacious, hard workin' folk you'll ever meet. If ever I had to be anything other than a pegasus, that's what I'd be. Somethin' about their tradition, the work based lifestyle. Ponyville was founded by earth ponies, and in fact by the Apple family themselves. I'd say maybe 80% of the population in that town is all earth ponies. There's somethin' about that. I still like bein' a pegasus the most, though.