//------------------------------// // 6.4 // Story: How Hard Could it Be? // by Richardson //------------------------------// 6-4 Well, the day had been rather foul indeed. The nice diversion of playing with Scootaloo and letting the foal experience the winds as directed by their true master had worn on into a pleasant night and a great many questions she had been forced to deflect with all of her skills from the Apple family. They had sat beneath the apple trees, lit by candle-light and torches celebrating the Heart Tree’s restoration and rejuvenation with all of their friends long into the night, long past the time when her sun had set and brought her sister’s night. And then came the sleep. Hah, hardly restful with all the questions stirring in her mind. After that relatively pleasant night, she had been put through an utter hell of a day. Catching Diamond Tiara at recess once more going after the Crusaders had just been the start of the foulness. Then had come Filthy Rich a little later, showing up after his filly had run home to him crying, demanding to know ‘what kind of a teacher’ she was. She showed him, all right. Showed him with an enchanted gem with the memory of watching Tiara tear into the Crusaders inside. Even with that evidence, Cheerilee had vanished rather than back her up, leaving her to fall into a mild screaming match with Filthy behind the schoolhouse where all the foals could hear them. He had gone and accused her of playing favorites for Twilight—she was, but not nearly to the extent that it would seriously compromise her impartiality—and ranted at her for disturbing his little girl, she had shot back that they could trace Tiara’s problems to well before she had arrived. Neither had come out looking very well when the foals had come over to ask why they were arguing. Then, then had come trying to reason out why some of the potions Zecora had taught Applebloom worked as they did. Terrible idea. Oh, the sticky slime; the sticky, foamy slime; the sticky, foamy slime explosions spraying tendrils of goop everywhere. She still felt unclean, like she had been given a lollipop for a good job from Discord. Ugh. At least the farm work was easy. It was uncomplicated, and a relieving breath of fresh air if it wasn’t for the dried multi-colored slime crusting in her fur. It was attracting all the dust in the orchards, leaving her with a veritable dust trail with each step. Wasn’t really worth washing up yet, she still had a lot of applebucking to go, and her rhythm was up and running. She bucked, hopped, and dropped some buckets; she rinsed, repeated, and felt the burn. She had picked up a musky smell from the sweat on her shoulders, and her wings ached from their reflexive opening each time she walloped a tree. Most of all, though, she felt alive in a way that she hadn’t felt like in years. She could almost-almost sing in glory from the wondrous feelings all around her! Life was all about her, and no nobles bother her ears; the fall weather called to her, and she could just love her friends so dear! A song, a job, just working in the fields; the sun, the stars, all looking down at her yields! She lost herself in the motion and the sounds, feeling herself going through the comforting actions over and over as the song burbled up from her heart and slowly washed her cares and aches away. A hard two-hooved love tap to a tree, a basket nudged to the right; even her actions were getting lyrical, and maybe things would be all right! Her muzzle rose up to the skies, letting her cry out her heart; her hooves tapped out to the beat, letting her leave her mark! She knew she had stopped in the middle of a row to shake her booty to the song, but what did she care? It wouldn’t take all that long! Hearts sang out brightly as she lost herself to the act; just a bit of life itself, just her and some apple facts! Flailing hooves danced out far, waving in the air; her rump shook back and forth, showing her lack of care! Soft green grass slunk away, her dancing leading her astray; just a wide old dirt path, all the better to scuff and scrape! Tongue stuck out and head shook, wings jerking to the beat! Hooves beat against something soft, best to avoid it for her beat! But—her hind hooves kept on bouncing against it as she kicked and bobbed to the sound of life and song in her head, even though she had turned about. Big and soft, but with a hard flexing underside as whatever it was made sounds like some-pony clearing their throat over and over again. Like some-pony’s chest getting pummeled by flailing hooves? Like there was a big some-pony, likely red and golden with a harness around his neck, standing there judging her for her dancing—something she had passed on to her student—and likely getting pretty annoyed with getting kicked? Aw, horseapples. “I’ve been kicking you in the face with my dancing, haven’t I, Big Macintosh?” She wasn’t going to look, nope, bad idea. “Eenope. Just mah chest.” “Ah, good.” “Ain’t like it hurt none, Applejack’s done worse.” He stoically drawled as he circled around her. Granted, he was trying not to collapse in a wheezing mess from the bruises all over the front and sides of his chest. Sunbeam had a hell of a kick to her, almost as good as Luna’s. It broke his heart a little to see her slump as she did, he felt like he had kicked Winona over an apple tree and then gone to look at her. “I’m fired, aren’t I?” She whispered, hanging her head and avoiding his gaze. “Naw.” She perked up in confusion, seeing Big Mac pointing backwards over his shoulder. “Wanted to tell you to stop for the night. You already bucked all of today’s harvest, and then some. We’ve got work to do to bring it all in before nightfall.” Macintosh explained, pointing over his shoulder to where a frantic looking pair of sisters were zipping back and forth in a fair imitation of Pinkie as they tried to catch up with the mad applebucker. Applejack’s hat was stuck on a tree, and Applebloom’s bow was more like a ribbon from her efforts and flapping in the breeze from where it was wrapped around her head. “Oh. Oh my.” Sunbeam breathlessly observed. “I think I overdid it.” She looked down to her hooves, and saw that each of her dancing-mad hoof prints could be seen in a twisting, turning spiral out to her position. They laid out a veritable etched record set deep into the earth, marking the dorky spiral of her dance. “Eeyup.” Fat lot of good he was at reassuring her. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I had a heart-song building all afternoon from a great many poor events this morning, and the rhythm of the job, um, set it off. Sort of.” Explanations could only do so much for Sunbeam, and she ducked her head backwards a bit to let her mane hide her burning shame. Best just not to say anything more and get back to work to avoid the terrible awkwardness. Turning to the nearest basket of fruit, she awkwardly walked to it and tried to avoid thinking any further on the matter. It did feel good though. She could feel the looseness of her newly relaxed state seeping all through her body, even if she had tightened back up again from her slight fear and worry. A wonderful lifting of spirits, one unfortunately dashed by her incompetence in expressing those spirits. Well, there was one thing she was worried about. “I didn’t catch you up in it, did I?” “Eenope.” “But you heard everything, didn’t you?” “Enough.” Ah, good feeling gone again. All was wrong with the world once more, a great drowning of all glad things beneath an overwhelming and everlasting tide of shame and failure. She would go, into the west. She would go and be less, walking the eternal deserts of the far west and- “Monologuing again.” Macintosh quietly corrected her as he stopped her with a hoof on her withers. For a stallion as big, if not bigger than her, she didn’t know how he could sneak around as he so did; Luna compared to how he had moved had catlike tread—if you counted a mewling avalanche of kittens quiet. His hoof on her back slowly slid up her spine, and around her neck to cup her chin and turn her gaze into his own. “Don’t know why you’d want to leave. Ah’d say Ah liked the view.” His somewhat romantic words turned her redder than he was as she spluttered in embarrassment. “Ah’d probably be glad to be rid of a bunch of nobles, too.” Big Mac finished, brushing the dirt from Sunbeam’s sides as he kept on smiling to her. Sitting down a bit wobbly, Sunbeam quietly tried to figure out what to do with herself. “I’m causing a lot of problems for you, aren’t I? I should just g-” “Eenope.” Big Mac cut off her self-doubt and self-loathing with a nuzzle to the nose that was quick and over with, then shifted his hoof back to her shoulder. “Ain’t no problem at all. You ain’t seen Ponyvile weird yet.” He quietly mentioned to her as his sisters slowly caught up to them, looking her in the eyes carefully under the great green canopy of the trees. “Know there’s more to you, and Ah don’t care.” He leaned in a little closer, whispering to her at a low tone that Applejack couldn’t hear so as to give her a bit of self-courage. “You’ve got skill, and you’ve got skill. All we ask. Ain’t our place to grill you like a fritter over your past. If you want to tell us, you will. Yer strong enough to decide when.” He told her, winking at the end just before brushing her mane back behind her ears for the most part. Sunbeam blinked once, twice, thrice. Did he just- “Oh, my. Was that a monologue, Mr. Macintosh?” She slyly asked, feeling a lot better thanks to his sage words. “Eeyup.” He whispered, then put his hoof on her lips to shush her. “Best not tell AJ. She’s fun when she wants to eat her hat ‘cause Ah monologue to every-pony else other than her.” His smile grew a little wider as Sunbeam demurely giggled twice. “Big Mac? Ya monologuing again?” “Eenope?” “Uh-huh. Ya lying to me again?” “Eemaybe?” Sunbeam’s titters of amusement started up again as Applejack threw her basket onto the long hauling cart and started stomping up and down in the dirt path while cursing the air blue around her. Before long, she had vanished into a dust cloud of her own making while Applebloom just glared adorably at her brother. Why, Luna was hardly as amusing as Macintosh’s sisters were; but then, she had thousands of years to work out the irritation over her lighter counterpart’s wry and sly ways. “Oh, Mr. Macintosh, you’re just horrible!” Sunbeam amusedly exclaimed, putting a hoof to her chin while pretending to be a vapid noble lady about to faint from seeing some uncouth activity. Big Mac just sing-hummed his agreement, slyly winking to her while holding out a hoof to help her up. “Oh, and such a gentle-pony!” She complimented as she accepted the hoof and hauled herself back up. Hmm, Applejack was still upset and stomping from the sounds of things. “And yet, still such a horrible stallion, teasing your sister to madness like that.” “Eeyup.” “We should probably help them with their apples before she hurts herself.” That dust was getting awfully high and thick. “Not yet.” Big Macintosh cryptically said as he slowly led her back to the leader wagon to pull several baskets and flip them onto his back. “Two more applebucks. Need to teach you a few pointers.” Hop-galloping oddly, the big crimson stallion had the oddest look on his face as he hummed and bobbed his own head on the way over to the next two trees in the line. It was almost like some love-struck colt as he laid the baskets around both trees then nimbly bounded back to the first to wait for his student to arrive. “Here, lemme show you.” “Oh? I’m not applebucking right?” “Eenope.” He said, nodding sideways towards the tree a little. “Granny Smith and the girls got too much buck in their applebuck.” “Really now?” This was going to be interesting. Sunbeam sat to one side as she waited for him to begin, bemusedly smiled as he fumbled a little. Caressing the tree trunk with a fore-hoof, Big Macintosh slowly felt up the smooth bark with the frog of his hoof, feeling for the pulsating life energy waiting beneath the surface. “Just gotta lean into the tree. Ain’t no need to shake it down. It’s happy to hoof it over.” Big Mac sagely intoned before turning around and clunking his hind-hooves against the wood with a deceptively gentle-looking tap. Above them, the leaves rubbed together, creating a sound not unlike a hissing sigh as the tree quaked up and down with the slightest of tremors instead of the great clunks of Sunbeam’s kicks. Apples began to rain from the canopy, neatly falling into all the baskets around them save for one or two. One bounced off of Big Macintosh’s outstretched back hoof, popping back up into the air to tumble over into the basket next to him. The other bounced off of Sunbeam’s bead with a hollow conk as it connected. It tumbled in the air, bouncing off of something unseen to land neatly upright in Big Macintosh’s outstretched fore-hoof. He extended out his leg in a practiced motion, presenting it to her. “Fer you.” A simple gesture, a polite gesture, a gesture that left Sunbeam feeling giddy for the strangest reason as she took the apple bashfully from his hoof with a wing and began nibbling at it. Mmm, the veritable river of apple juice squeezing up out of the crunchy pulp welled up around her nibbling muzzle, dripping with tangy sweetness onto her tongue and running down her chin with a trace of stickiness. So good, so tasty. She needed to thank him for it, for giving her the chance to work. But, he didn’t give her the chance, preemptively holding up a hoof to silence her. “Just eat. Good fer you to have something.” “Mmm, thank you.” She whispered to him anyway before chowing down on her prize. Okay, if by ‘chowing down’ she meant ravenously devouring the poor thing like Pinkie would wolf down a thousand cupcakes; a mad menagerie of biting and nibbling and munching. It wasn’t until she felt the sticky sensations on the sides of her muzzle and looked up to see the slightly disturbed look on Big Macintosh’s face. Swallowing a bit nosily in her embarrassment, she tried to grin politely. “Sorry. I guess I was a little hungry.” Her stomach growled traitorously. “But I really should eat a lot less.” An eyebrow raised, an ear flicked off a tiny chunk of thrown apple, and Sunbeam pointed awkwardly towards the next tree as the ambivalent silence dragged on. “I’ll just go over and practice what you showed me, then.” “Eeyup.” She hadn’t quite understood what her teacher had done, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her. So, she slowly felt up the tree like Big Mac had shown her, rubbing a hoof against the smooth, dark bark. She jerked back, feeling the pulse of life within beating back against the soft frog of her hoof. Here she was, an ageless abyss of knowledge, and still the little things slipped her by. What had changed? Was it just knowing to actually look? Slowly, she turned over her hoof, looking at it and then looking at the tree and its smooth bark in a new-found light. Could it be as easy as just leaning hard against the tree? Sunbeam slowly turned around and readied herself, raising her hind-hooves from the ground and balancing with her wings. She tapped the tree, softly, clunking it with her big hooves like ringing a bell instead of kicking a changeling in the face for giving her weekly nightmares about icky greenish goo eating her. With her tap went a pulse of the magic she had felt into the tree, cajoling it, calling to it; a pulse that rattled up into the branches above and gently shimmied and shook them all until the tree fell silent again. Big Mac walked up beside her, looking up with a concerned and profoundly irritated frown. “Err, guess it had no fruit.” When Sunbeam went to say something to him, five apples fell on her back in an almost musical rhythm, followed by two extra-large juicy green nibblers crashing down on her head. The last two impacts drove her into the ground, knocking her senseless and splaying her limbs in every direction as her breaths snorted a bit of the cool earth into her nose and made her sneeze. Funny, everything was in the wrong direction all of a sudden. Or were her eyes crossed like that delightful grey mare and her amber eyes? Probably the latter from the way Big Mac was laughing at her, the big meaniepants. ---------------------------------------- “But Daddy!” Diamond Tiara protested with a nasally whine as her father herded her into her room at hoof-point. Stern silence was his reply as he poked her again with a hoof, ignoring all her protests in his frustration as he slid her into her obnoxiously pink room and got ready to shut the door behind her. That stupid, fat, plump—chicken!—of a school teacher had somehow gotten some kind of movie of her putting the three losers in their places, and presented it to her daddy. And then, then she had gone and convinced him to stop listening to her! The nerve of that big, ugly pony! She had to think of some way to spin it as Sunbeam telling fibs, and quick! “She’s had it out for me since she met me, Daddy! She probably made that up because she wants to butt me out of being a good influence on my peers!” Filthy Rich rolled her eyes as his daughter’s protests got even more ridiculous and poked her rump again to push her further into the room. Huh, she squeaked a little when he did. “No butts, sugar-belle. You were being a terrible pony, and tomorrow when I’m not so angry at you we’ll have a little talk about your behavior.” He couldn’t stay too mad at her. He still loved her with every fiber of his money-grubbing soul, even if he still didn’t know where he bad habits she had picked up had come from. They’d talk again the next day, over a big breakfast in the garden dining hall. “That’s not—Jeeves! Tell daddy he’s being mean!” Tiara pointed past him into the hall, where standing in the center of the darkly paneled hall behind her father. Filthy’s eyebrows banged off of his scalp-line as his eyes went comically wide from the startlement of being once more snuck up upon by his faithful butler, and he spun around to get eyes on Jeeves rather than let him perform his usual disappearing act. “Jeeves! How many times do I have to say don’t do that? You’ll put me in an early grave from a heart attack one of these days!” His heart was pounding rather hard against his chest worryingly. The aged stallion in question merely cleared his throat, ignoring Tiara’s attempts to distract her father and spoke directly to the lord of the house. “Sir. Madam. One Duke Redcoat of Canterlot awaits you and the young mistress at the door. He claims to be here to discuss a business deal concerning the both of you.” Jeeves’ old voice warbled from his age as he gestured towards the stairs with a tuxedoed forelimb whilst bowing his head. “Stay here, Tiara.” “Both of you, sir.” Jeeves corrected, looking up. “What?” “An offer concerning a school, as I understand it, sir.” The madness of the warble could almost make some-pony think Jeeves was putting it on for giggles. Regardless, he slowly walked to the stairs and looked back to see if his employers would follow. Diamond perked up, putting on one of her best con smiles as she trotted around her father to find out why a duke thought her ready for a proper school. Why, some-pony must have heard of her incredible smarts and charm, and wanted to take her to some prestigious school! Finally, she would get her attention due. Too bad for her mood, then, that her father popped it with a stern clearing of his throat. “Come along, Tiara. We’ll hear him out, then BED.” There would be no argument with that. Down below, Redcoat waited for them in the parlor, having let himself in while waiting. He was smiling enigmatically as he played with one of the abstract sculptures beside the door, poking a piece that spun in an odd way. From him ran a streak of coppery red, reflected from his coat onto the polished white marble on the floor and stretching down the long hallway to the foot of the stairs. His turn of gaze almost seemed an afterthought as he looked at the pair with unnatural timing. “Ah, Filthy Rich, Diamond Tiara.” “Can I help you?” Filthy asked with surly annoyance as he clopped down the hallway past the paintings of his beloved Golden Tiara and the family from happier days and small rounded alcoves of various classical and neo-classical works. “Oh, no. There isn’t anything you can do for me that I couldn’t handle just as easily myself if necessary.” Redcoat curtly admitted, shutting Filthy up quickly. Walking away from the strange statue, he withdrew a small business folder from his red and black greatcoat to shut up his dirty brown counterpart. “But, I can help you to help me.” Filthy looked at him, then back to his daughter warily. “I’ve been looking through the records of Equestria, looking for promising young mares to tutor in business and politics, and in doing so found that your daughter fits the criteria for the Canterlot Business School.” Redcoat’s lips stayed neutral as he watched Diamond spazz out with pride, only acknowledging it with the slightest upward raise of his chin. His folder hovered beside him, caught in the grip of his aura as Filthy watched him warily. “I don’t know if she’s as special as you seem to think.” “Oh, I’m certain I’m overestimating her at least a little, and yet with a bit of inspection I’m more than willing to say that there might be ‘hope’ for her yet.” Redcoat cagily explained, slowly beginning to circle around the pair, completing half a circuit in the brightly lit white stone hall before continuing. “I’m aware of how your wife’s death affected you, and how it has given her issues. I’m—aware of your health conditions, as well. Don’t ask how, I have my ways. I’m also aware of the towns-ponies’ opinions of her, and yet I would say that she still remains a viable successor to you for your business.” Completing his circuit, Redcoat gently passed the folder to Filthy, stepping back a bit to make the stallion feel less threatened. “So, due to that opinion, I’m willing to go up to the cliff for her. So, I shall personally pay for full room and board, to include all school expenses and for any tutoring required to help her push her through.” Filthy’s eyes widened ever so slightly, as he knew the incredible expenses that were often incurred in Canterlot Schools—long considered the best in the country. “I’m aware of how your business taxes you dearly for each iota of success you wring from it. As some-pony appreciative of the reform and revolution you have brought to the retail landscape, I can say with due respect that you deserve to have a little bit of your stress removed. I can make certain that your company remains in good hooves after your passing, if you’ll let me.” Filthy glanced down at his daughter, who grinned much as Pinkie would in her blessed ignorance of what it would take to get through a Canterlot school, then looked cautiously back to Redcoat, who smiled like a hungry alicorn. “What do you say, then, Filthy Rich? Care to make a deal?”