Fragrant
Sorry I haven’t written for a while but I’ve been feeling rather sorry for myself. After the disaster at Dragontooth Pass I made my way back to that little village. I guess I was lucky to be alive, but my bruises didn’t agree. It didn’t help that I only had the hard ground to sleep on. I really wished you had been there to make me feel better, you’re much softer to sleep with than the cold ground. But my favourite pillow was hundreds of miles away, so I had to soldier on.
I spent a day or so in the village and the ponies there were very kind, although I think they had a good laugh at my foolishness trying to take on the pass when they told me it was blocked. I think I have to agree with them, it was a boneheaded idea.
Anyway once I felt a bit better I headed north, there’s no real paths up here but I made quite good progress taking a meandering route around the various peaks which dot that part of Nulpar. Once again I’ve gone several days without meeting anyone, there’s some signs that goats have been camping there in the last few weeks but if they’re still about I didn’t see any.
It’s now been about five days since I left the unnamed village, and for the first time I’ve actually seen real signs of life. Its a few hundred feet below me now. About two dozen buildings nestled next to a moderately sized river. I can just about make out a few farms scattered about within a half dozen or so miles. It’s all quite picturesque really. I can’t make out any inhabitants from here, but judging by the size of the settlement there probably wouldn’t be more than a hundred souls. There’s a pass leading away from the area to the south west, that’ll be handy when I have to leave, much easier than clambering over a mountain, quicker as well. That’s not really an issue as Dragontooth Pass being blocked means I’m about a week ahead of schedule.
I’ve probably got several hours hard climb to get down there, but it’ll be worth it to actually get to talk to another living pony.
I’ll write to you again once I get a chance to speak to them.
Missing you.
Max
There seemed to be something very wrong about this village, thought Max as he passed the first building. Not a single pony, or any other species for that matter, could be found on the streets. It was like a ghost town; here and there were discarded tools, a half filled basket of washing with the rest still on the line, a child’s doll just lying there in the street. Where was everypony? He was sure he had seen a few ponies down here on his journey down the mountain. Where had they all gone?
Max stepped out onto the main street, the only street really given the size of the village, to be greeted by yet more nothing. He looked around, a deep frown on his face. His eyes flicked to the side as he noticed motion from a window as the curtains were drawn. Peering through the glass, he could make out a pair of frightened looking yellow eyes looking back; then they widened and the owner dropped out of sight.
What was going on? Was everypony scared of him? He considered knocking on the door of the eyes’ owner’s house, but doubted they would answer. He continued to slowly trot down the street, passing the few buildings that made up the settlement. There was still no sign of anyone on the street, but now that he was prepared, he could see signs that he was being watched from almost every window. What were they all so afraid of?
At the far end of the road was the largest building in the village, although that wasn’t saying much; it was the only two story structure around and was a little grander than the others, having some stone in its construction. He hoped it was some sort of town hall; maybe he could get some answers there. He noticed there was a red and white striped pole sticking out from the wall. Maybe he was wrong, maybe it was a barbers’ instead. Peering closely, he could make out movement behind the swing doors as an orange coated figure rushed past.
He was almost at the door when something crashed into his side, knocking him from his hooves and sending him sprawling. Before he could recover, a figure landed heavily on him, forcing the breath from his lungs. He gasped as a wooden pole was jammed across his throat and pulled tight preventing him breathing.
“Think you own this place!” cried his assailant. She sounded like a mare. “Think you can just waltz in here by yourself and take whatever you want!”
Max tried to gasp out a reply, that he didn’t know what she was talking about, but couldn’t manage a word. He tried to buck off his attacker, but her grip was too strong. His vision was starting to turn red around the edges.
“We’ll see how much Guntram values your stinking life!” snarled the voice, seemingly from a great distance. “Hopefully more than the foals he’s taken!”
Max tried to struggle to his hooves, but his legs didn’t seem to work right, flailing randomly instead. They felt so heavy.
“Stop it, Bread! Stop it!” came a different voice. Max saw an orange blur move past him and suddenly the constriction around his throat was gone. He took a great gasp of air into his lungs, not caring about the pain from his bruised throat. Air had never tasted so sweet as he took another lung full, before being wracked with coughs. There was some sort of argument going on behind him, but at the moment he was too busy trying to stay conscious to pay too much attention to it. After a few moments, he felt strong enough to flop around bonelessly, and he tried to look back at whatever had attacked him.
There were two of them. One was a brown-coated unicorn mare, wearing an apron and holding a wooden paddle – similar to the ones used by bakers to put bread in an oven – in her shimmering green aura. She was angrily facing off against a lanky earth pony stallion, his orange coat ruffled and his green mane thinning. “They don’t have any earth ponies, Bread!” exclaimed the stallion.
“That we know of!” snarled the mare, stamping a hoof. “Maybe they’ve had reinforcements, Big Wig! Who else could he be?”
“Max,” gasped Max, trying to join in the conversation. “Baron... Mounty...” He coughed again and tried to slow his breathing. “I mean, I’m... Baron Mounty Max, who... who are you? What’s going on... why did you... attack me?” Painfully, he got to his hooves, swaying in place for a second before he got his balance.
“Baron!” explained the stallion incredulously. “Baron of where?”
“Nulpar...” Everypony seemed confused by the name. “Here!” he explained.
“He’s clearly lying!” cried the mare again. “He’s one of them!” She advanced again with her wooden weapon.
“Wait,” said the stallion, putting a hoof on the mare’s back. “Look, stranger, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but you ain’t in Equestria right now. You’re on the edge of the border zone. No one rules this place.”
Max frowned. Had he travelled further north than he’d thought? No, he was certain he was still in Nulpar. He guessed they mustn’t have heard about the province’s formation. “No,” he shook his head, “Nulpar was formed by Princess Luna about half a year back. She put me in charge. Norton is definitely part of it.”
“Norton? This is North Town.”
“North Town?” Was he in the wrong place, or did the map just name it wrong? He wasn’t that bad with maps. He guessed it must be the latter.
“Anyway, why were you put in charge?” asked the stallion.
Max shrugged. “The princess seemed to think I was the best pony for the job. I used to be the mayor of Sadlzburg.”
“I’ve heard of Sadlzburg,” said another pony. Max looked around and noticed that a mixture of ponies, goats and donkeys were emerging from the houses and cautiously making their way over to him. Worryingly, a few of them were carrying improvised weapons. “It’s some big city down south. Must be several weeks travel, maybe more.”
“So what are you doing all the way out here? And by yourself?” asked the orange stallion.
“I’m visiting all the province, to see what I can do to help you all.” To Max’s surprise, this caused a small cheer to pass around the crowd.
“You hear that! The baron’s here to help us! His soldiers will show off that gang, no problem, we’ll get our kids back!” cried a goat in the crowd.
“Um, I don’t understand,” said Max. “I don’t have any soldiers. What’s going on around here?” He glared at the mare who had attacked him. “Do you try to strangle all the strangers that come to town?”
“I’m sorry about Bread Basket here,” said the stallion. The mare didn’t look all that sorry about her actions, but at least she wasn’t holding the wooden pole like a weapon anymore. “We’re all on edge right now.” He straightened up. “My name’s Big Wig, I’m... well, I’m the village speaker.”
“Pleased to meet you,” said Max, holding out a hoof which the speaker cautiously shook. “Now what’s been going on here?”
“It started about two months ago,” explained Big Wig with a sigh. “A few bandits, griffon mostly, arrived from the north. It’s not that usual up here, we tend to get some of them every few years or so. Mostly they steal a few things before we drive them off, but these decided to stay. Well, we were just forming a posse when they raided the town, only it wasn’t food or valuables they were after...”
“Our children, they took our children,” snarled Bread. “They took them and we did nothing about it! Nothing!” she sobbed, leaning against a pale yellow mare standing next to her and resting her head in her mane.
“No, there wasn’t anything we could do. They’re trained fighters and we’re just a bunch of farmers. They hurt some folks pretty bad when they tried to stop them.”
“That’s easy for you to say!” growled Bread, striding towards Big Wig. “They didn’t get your son, did they!” There were some similarly unhappy grumbles in the crowd, which had gathered around them.
“Now that ain't...” said the stallion, backing away a few steps. “That ain’t fair, it was just luck he wasn’t with the rest when they attacked.”
“So you got no reason to want to do anything about them, your son’s safe, but Pizza... Pizza’s... anything could happen to him... anything,” she sniffed. The other mare ran a comforting hoof through Bread’s mane.
“You haven't done anything about this after all this time?” asked Max.
“What can we do?” asked Big Wig. “They treat the kids ok, they even let a few of us stay in their camp to look after them.”
“Some of us!” cried Bread. “I haven’t seen my son for months!”
“That’s because you caused trouble, you tried to free them! That’s no fault but your own!” cried Big Wig. Then he looked a bit sheepish.
Max frowned. “Isn’t that a bit harsh?” He ventured, “If it were my children being held, I’d do all I can to free them.” He didn’t want to think what he’d do if something happened to Fragrant, or his mother.
“Yeah, you’re right, baron. Sorry, Bread,” said Big Wig, looking down. “But it’s not that bad. The foals are looked after, and all the bandits ask for is food, and... well... anything we got of value, but there isn’t much of that here.”
“How many of them are there?” asked Max.
“Only eight,” said Bread. “We could easily take them if we tried.” A chunk of the crowd cheered at this, while others shook their heads.
“Before they hurt our children?” said Big Wig. “Eight good fighters, with weapons too. We got what? Twenty good strong ponies in town? Maybe we could take them, but there would be blood, lots of blood. Maybe if the farmers would help us, but they won’t.” He shook his head and there was more grumbling from the crowd.
“Why not?” asked Max.
“Most of them are too scared. The ranches are scattered around and about. Each is run by a single family with maybe a dozen ponies at most, counting the children and elderly. If they wanted, the bandits could wipe ‘em out one at a time. If they leave their homes, well, they might not be there by the time they get back.”
Max nodded. He sort of understood that, but if they gathered them all together, even if the settlement was small they could probably outnumber the bandits five, even ten to one. They’d have to surrender in that situation, wouldn’t they? He didn’t know. He’d never been in a real fight before. “How about getting help from other settlements?” he suggested.
Big Wig snorted. “Our nearest neighbours are over two days away, and they only got maybe two dozen ponies. They won’t help. Besides, the bandits are set up on the pass out of town. They’d see anyone who tried to leave unless they went over the mountains, and not many can do that. Pegasi might make it out, but most of the bandits can fly as well. I don’t know what it’s like down south, baron, but up here you have to look after your own, on your own.”
“Which we’re not doing!” cried Bread. “You just want to wait and wait and wait, until they... until they hurt our children!” A good chunk of the town’s ponies roared in support, several waving improvised weapons.
“No!” exclaimed Big Wig, quieting the crowd. “If we wait long enough they’ll get bored and move away, and we’ll get our foals back and nopony will get hurt. They won’t want to stay here for the winter. Another few months and they’ll be gone!”
“You don’t know that!”
Max had to admit that Big Wig’s plan did seem tenuous, but also that attacking the bandits seemed dangerous as well.
“So what are you going to do, baron?” asked Big Wig.
“Who, me?” asked Max in surprise.
“Well, you said the Princess put you in charge. You should know what to do.” The stallion looked relieved, probably glad to be able to pass the problem on to somepony else.
“Oh, well...” started Max looking out at a small sea of expectant faces around him. What was he going to do? Should he try to fight the bandits? Somepony could get hurt or worse. Should he go for help? He could get out without being seen, but as Big Wig had said he doubted any of the nearby settlements could help much. He had asked Arctic to set up a militia for this kind of thing, but she was all the way back in Sadlzburg. What could he do? He wished Fragrant was here. She’d probably just be able to get the bandits to give up by force of personality. Maybe that was what he should do. He knew he had to do something and soon. The villagers had assumed he had an army; maybe the bandits would, too? It was a plan... sort of. “I’m going to confront the bandits!” he announced, sounding more certain than he felt. “I’m going to make them return your children, and I’m going to make sure they are punished for what they’ve done!” Around him it was silent for a moment, then the crowd burst out cheering. They surged forwards, pushing aside an unhappy looking Big Wig and to Max’s surprise raised him onto their backs, bearing him through the village’s street. Max wished he felt as good about this as they did.
“Are you really sure about this Baron?” asked Big Wig nervously. He, Bread Basket and a few of the other villagers had escorted Max the short distance to the only break in the mountains that surrounded the settlement.
Max really wasn’t, but he tried to sound positive. “Yes, I’m sure that once the bandits realize that they’re not just fighting the village but the whole of Nulpar, the whole of Equestria, they’ll be away with their tails between their legs.” Now that he’d had a little time to think about the plan, it didn’t seem such a good idea. Could he really scare the bandits off by himself?
“Well, I hope so,” said Big Wig. “Now we better not get closer. They’ll see us coming.”
Max cocked his head, looking confused. He didn’t see any sign of the bandits around. Bread pointed up into the sky. “There,” she said. Max shaded his eyes against the afternoon sun and caught sight of a faint brownish shape hovering lazily in the air. There was a glinting of something metal, presumably a weapon of some type. “They’ve always got eyes in the sky,” muttered Bread. “No way of getting in without being seen, unless there was some sort of a distraction,” she said pointedly, lowering her voice. “Look baron, do you really think Guntram and his people are just going to give up and go home because you ask them to?”
Max glanced over at Big Wig who was talking to another one of the group, a petite middle aged mare with a white coat and pink mane. “Maybe not,” he admitted.
“I didn’t think so. If they didn’t have our foals, they would have to leave. They can’t stand up to all of us.” Max nodded. “So if we could find a way to get them back, this would all be over...” She closed her eyes. “Everything would be perfect. I can’t believe that after months of not being challenged, they’re keeping constant guard anymore. If you can distract them for a bit, me and a few likeminded ponies could at least scout around the area. See if we can find a way into the camp and a way to get the foals out.”
Max nodded again. It made sense. “Ok, but don’t take any risks. Don’t get spotted.”
The unicorn’s eyes flashed for a moment. Then she calmed and nodded. “Of course, baron.”
“I know you miss your son, but you don’t want him to get hurt, do you?”
“Of course not!”
“Good. So just check out the camp. If we’re lucky, then the bandits will just leave, but if we’re not then you at least have a better idea how to rescue them if your need to, right?”
“Right,” agreed Bread.
“My wife, Snowdrop, will show you the rest of the way,” said Big Wig, stepping over to them while gesturing at the mare he had been talking to. “She’s delivering the supplies.” Bulging saddlebags covered her flanks.
“They let us have up to two ponies at a time in their camp to look after the foals during the day, and one at night,” explained the mare in a deeper than expected voice. “It’s my turn tonight.”
“Be careful,” said Big Wig, hugging his wife. “Don’t do anything that might cause Guntram to hurt the foals, baron.”
“Guntram?” asked Max.
“The bandit leader. He seems reasonable, some of the time,” he said nervously. “But show him respect, he’s got a temper.” Big Wig rubbed a leg, which for the first time Max noticed had a bandage tied to it. His nervousness increased.
“Thanks for the information.”
Big Wig nodded and hugged his wife again before he stepped back. “Come on, baron,” said Snowdrop, starting to trot down the path as the rest of the ponies headed back towards the village. Trying to hide his fear, Max followed her as she waved up at the sky. The flying bandit must have noticed as it swooped down towards the camp ahead of them.
It took several minutes for Snowdrop and Max to reach the Bandits’ camp in the middle of the pass. It was a rough affair, consisting of a few sturdy looking tents set up around a large, and currently extinguished, camp fire. Off to one side, a larger but more fragile looking tent stood; a dozen or so foals were currently playing outside it. Two stallions stood nearby, keeping an eye on them; presumably the villagers allocated to the duty.
As soon as they got within sight, several of the camp's inhabitants moved to meet them. At the fore was a shortish griffon, maybe the size of a large stallion, with orange-brown fur. His coat was mostly covered by a mismatched set of armour, but the parts that could be seen were marred with various scars, including one that cut through his left eye, leaving it creamy and sightless. A long sword was strapped to his side, and a crossbow to one of his talons. Behind him came a much larger griffoness, easily head and shoulders above the male; her coat and feathers were almost pure white, and a mace – almost as long as Max’s whole body – rested almost casually over her shoulder. Like the male, she was covered in a mix of armour; mostly padding with a few patches of chain mail here and there.
Above them flew another pair of griffons, one male, one female. They looked almost identical apart from their sex, both with dusty grey coats and black and white feathers. They had crossbows strapped to both of their talons, which they were pointing threateningly in Max’s direction. Unlike their companions they did not wear armour, presumably to allow them to fly unimpeded.
Near the tents were a pair of pegasi, a mare with a red coat and a blue mane and a stallion with a light blue coat and mane. Both wore padded armour and were stretched out on rocks, apparently sunning themselves, but their eyes kept flickering between Max and the spears propped up near them, presumably ready to snatch them up and use them against the intruder at a moment’s notice. A unicorn with a light purple coat and a black mane was leaning against a rock near the foals. As Max watched, his horn glowed on and off lazily.
It was the final member of the company who caused Max to really stare. It was a moose, or at least he thought it was; he’d never met once in the flesh before. He was huge, at least as tall as Princess Luna, dwarfing even the giant griffoness. He stood motionless in front of the children's play area, one hoof wrapped around a great axe which looked like it could take down a tree with a single swing. He only had one antler; hung from it were chains and spikes that looked like they could form a reasonable weapon by themselves. All that remained of the other was a jagged spike. His form was covered in chain mail armour with a few plates of metal covering more vulnerable points.
Max swallowed hard. They were rather more intimidating than he’d hoped. Maybe he could at least distract them long enough for Bread and her people to get a good look at the camp. He screwed up his courage and stepped forwards, trying not to look scared. “Guntram?” he asked, looking at the scarred stallion. He hoped he had picked the leader; he was fairly sure the name was male, but you never could tell with griffon.
The figure ignored Max, instead looking at Snowdrop. “You’re late,” he said. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about your poor children. You wouldn’t want anything to happen to them, would you?”
“I’m sorry, but Paint and Book could look after them for a bit longer,” said the white pony apologetically.
“That don’t matter. I say when you take over from them, and you do it when I say and no when else. Maybe you ponies don’t get to look after them no more, maybe we leave them to Gunda’s maternal instincts instead.” Behind him the big griffoness let out a hissing chortle and clenched her talons. “Get.” He nodded towards the foals. Snowdrop gave a slight smile to Max before scuttling over towards the children's area. “Now,” said Guntram, turning to look at Max with his good eye. “Who are you? I thought I knew every one of the prey in this fly’s arse of a village, but I haven’t seen you before.”
“I... I am Mounty Max, baron of this province,” said Max, straightening as much as he could and trying to copy Fragrant’s best ‘I’m an important noble’ stance. How did she make it look so easy? “I am giving you the chance to return those foals to their families and leave peacefully.”
“Baron?” asked Guntram, tilting his head to the side. “Well, of course, your majesty. We’ll be on our way straight away. You hear that, lads,” he shouted, dripping sarcasm and causing Max’s stomach to drop. “We’ve been given our marching orders by the baron here!” He turned back to Max with a taunting smile on his beak, and his female companion laughed again. “Where do you think we are, ‘baron’? Equestria? We’re in the middle of nowhere. Nobody, pony or otherwise, cares about these worthless peons or their stinking spawn.” He gestured at the foals and their caretakers. The little ones backed away behind the adults.
Suddenly Max found an anger growing in him. These ponies might not have much, but they were his people! They managed to survive in one of the harshest environments possible and they managed to prosper. They deserved better than this. “I care!” he exclaimed, taking a step forwards. “It is my land you’re trespassing on, my people you’re terrorising. I will protect it!”
Guntram’s eyes widened in surprise for a second. Then he frowned. “You and whose army, baron? There’s eight of us and only one of you, little pony!”
“I’d be a fool to come here by myself,” bluffed Max. “My troops are waiting nearby. Now return the foals and there won’t be any need for bloodshed.”
Guntram narrowed his eyes, and Max tried to stop himself from blinking. This had to work. “You know what,” said the griffon after a moment. “I think you are a fool. If you did have an army with you, you’d have tried to take us by surprise. It would be the only way of stopping us from using our little hostages over there.” Max felt a cold shiver run down his back. His bluff had been called. Now his only option was to try to cause a distraction so that Bread could do her thing. His eyes scanned the camp, but saw no sign of sneaking ponies; maybe she’d already come and gone. He tensed himself, preparing to leap forwards, when Guntram gestured with a talon and the two flying griffon pointed their crossbows at Max. “Don’t try to do anything even more stupid,” he warned.
“You’re the one being stupid,” replied Max. “Sooner or later the villagers will have enough of you. You can’t stand against all them.”
“Those sheep? They’re too scared to make a move, even if I didn’t have their foals. Now let’s see who you really are, ‘baron’.” Quickly, the orange griffon reached forwards and grabbed Max’s saddlebags, tearing them from his back. Max started to rear, but the crossbows and the griffoness’ mace stopped him. She gave another hissing giggle; that sound was really starting to get on Max’s nerves. He tried to stop a shudder as Guntram tore the bags to pieces, scattering their contents around. The book he’d been presented in Midnight’s Folly splashed into a shallow puddle. Max winced; the bags had been a gift from his mother several years ago. “Reflector!” yelled the griffon. “You can read pony scribble. What does this say?” he held up a few of Max’s notebooks and letters. The purple unicorn quickly trotted up, flanked by the two pegasi, who had roused and armed themselves. He took the books in his aura and quickly scanned through them and some of Max’s correspondence. Max fumed as the unicorn looked through not only his notes but also the letter’s he’d been writing to Fragrant. It just didn’t seem right, another pony reading them.
“It looks like he’s legit, boss,” said the unicorn at length. “He’s on some sort of tour of a place called Nulpar.”
“That’s this province,” explained Max. “The princess formed it this year, and all of its population are under her protection. Maybe I don’t have an army, but someone else will come eventually. You can’t fight the military.” This actually seemed to worry the pegasi who looked around nervously, as if soldiers could jump out on then at any point.
“Your princess is hundreds of miles away, and she don’t care about this little speck,” said Guntram. “It’s just like her to decide to carve out a little more pony lebensraum from the border zone, though. Still,” he traced a talon down one of his facial scars, “a baron might be worth something to someone. You think your princess would pay to have you returned in one piece? If not her, someone else might.”
“The princess would never deal with you!”
“You better hope she will. Gunda,” ordered Guntram, “put him with the kids.” The giant griffoness stepped forwards and physically picked up Max. “Gottlob, Gudrun, keep an eye on him. I’ve got some thinking to do.”
To Max’s surprise, the bandits didn’t tie him up or restrain him. They just shoved him into the part of the camp where the foals were kept and left him there. At first he’d considered making a break for it; the cliff walls were steep, but nothing he couldn’t handle, and the far end of the pass was only a few minutes gallop away. Then he looked up. The two griffons with the crossbows were hovering on the thermals, weapons lazily pointed in his direction. Even if they didn’t hit him, they might catch one of the foals by accident.
Snowdrop had quickly introduced him to the children’s other caretakers, Paint Pot and Book Learning; their greetings were rather subdued and they quickly headed off back to the town after Gunda growled at them. Snowdrop quickly introduced Max to the foals. They didn’t seem too upset by their situation and were excited to meet somepony new, before she unloaded her bags and started to make dinner for both the kids and their captors.
While she was busy, Max took it upon himself to try and entertain the children with stories of his travels so far. They seemed to have adapted well to their imprisonment, although most clearly missed their parents badly. Once he had finished, they started to run around in small groups, playing various games, but carefully keeping away from the bandits’ part of the camp.
Soon, Snowdrop had finished her cooking, and dished out the vegetable stew she had made; first to the children, and once Guntram had cast a careful eye over them to see that there were no harmful effects, larger portions were measured out to the bandits as well. Somewhat to Max’s surprise, the two pegasi started to make out in the shadow on the rocks they had been sunning themselves on earlier. He guessed even bandits could be lovers. The rest of the camp sat around the now lit fire and chatted quietly while sharing a large bottle of something Max assumed was alcoholic. The two airborne griffons came in to land and were replaced by the giant griffoness, who took up station above the camp, her head swivelling from side to side.
The only member of the camp who didn’t seem to be involved in the socialization was the moose. He had remained at his post for the whole afternoon, hardly moving. Despite his imposing figure, the foals hadn’t seemed intimidated by him, even using him as a platform for some of their rough and tumble games. He had only seemed to relax when Snowdrop had brought him a portion of stew – a large portion, almost a bucket full; he had slumped down and started to chew on the thick broth contemplatively. After a little thought, Max decided to try and strike up a conversation. At least he could distract him, maybe even sway his loyalties.
Plan in mind, Max strolled over to the moose. “Evening,” he said. The moose ignored him, continuing to stare into the distance.
“Um, hi, I’m Mounty Max,” he tried again and took a further step towards the moose. He moved. It was subtle, but one hoof edged slightly closer to the axe still strapped to his barrel, and Max found his hooves taking a step backwards instead. The large creature relaxed again and took another mouthful of stew.
“So, the foals seems to be taking all this well. You seem to be getting on well with them,” babbled Max. He was starting to suspect the moose didn’t speak Equestrian.
“Got two of my own,” rumbled the moose suddenly.
“Pardon?” asked Max in surprise.
“I have two of my own, baron, two calves,” said the Moose in near perfect Equestrian.
“Oh, well, congratulations.” The moose nodded. “But how can you keep these children from their families if you have your own? How can you threaten them?”
The moose's head dipped slightly. “The money I get for this job pays for their upkeep. These foals’ discomfort means my children are comfortable.”
“What! How can you do this!”
“I do not want to be here, baron, but my axe is currently pledged to Guntram, and a sellsword who breaks his promise is a sellsword who will not be employed again.”
“You’re a mercenary?” an idea struck Max. “Look I don’t have much on me...” None actually, thought Max; what he did have had been in his backpack, and the bandits probably had that now. “But we can probably sort something out, Mr...”
“I am called Endre. Maybe once my contract runs out, baron, but until then my oath is my bond.”
“How long is that?” asked Max.
“Until the next solstice, two months from now.”
Max grimaced. That was far too long. “Would you really hurt these foal for money?”
“If Guntram ordered me to... I would,” intoned Endre somewhat mournfully. “There is no honour there, but my word is my bond. Once my contract was ended, I would kill him for it, but until then I do what he tells me to.”
Max’s head started to whirl at the thinking behind that statement. “Why... why ever did you agree to work for him? How much is he paying you?”
“I did not agree to work for him. My contract was with this group's previous leader, Gerard the strong!” He waited for some reaction from Max, who just looked blank. The moose sighed and continued his story. “Gerard was a bandit leader from the griffon kingdoms. He had a true army behind him. Organised, glorious. Not this rabble.” He gestured at his colleagues in contempt. “We attacked towns, armies, even some of the smaller kingdoms trembled at our coming; then, we fought in truly honourable combat, not just bullying defenceless farmers!”
“What happened?” asked Max.
“We were raiding the kingdom of Farhills. Their queen, Hagatha, sent an army to stop us, but she did not know our strength. Her forces were badly out matched. It was a glorious battle, they fought well, but would have quickly fallen to us. Then a small group of griffon border guard joined the fray, fighting under the banner of the red shield. They were upon us before we even realised, striking at our very heart.” He made a swooping gesture with a hoof. “Their leader was a griffoness with a red crest. None could stop her.” He reached up and stroked his broken antler. “She did this to me.” He smiled almost lovingly, his eyes glowing. “She was magnificent. She slew Gerard with a single blow from her sword – it was so hot, it charred his flesh as it cut through him.”
Max shuddered at the thought of such a battle, such slaughter. He was glad Equestria was much more peaceful than its neighbours.
“Defeated, our survivors scattered. With my employer dead, my contract defaulted to his successor.” He curled back his lips. “Guntram,” he hissed in disgust. “He was the highest ranking member of Gerard’s force I know survived. He gathered this rabble and led us south into the border lands. We raided the few settlements we found until he decided that even that was too dangerous for him, and he decided to kidnap children to make himself feel safer,” he spat.
“Is there no way you could break your contract?”
“Not unless Guntram decides to cancel it, and I do not think that is likely, do you?” asked Endre with a smile.
Max shook his head. No, it didn’t seem likely. “And the others over there? Are they all mercenaries too? Will any of them turn on him?” He was probably clutching at straws.
“Ah, baron. I like you, showing up and demanding Guntram leave your lands. You have guts, but I am not your ally. I will not help you beat my comrades, pathetic as they may be. Maybe you should challenge Guntram for leadership, then you would be my employer? His pride would not let him refuse.”
Max rubbed his chin. That might be an idea, if it wouldn’t certainly lead to his death. The only serious fight he’d ever had was against Archduke Fisher, and he’d only managed to hold out for a few minutes then against an opponent who hadn’t been trying to kill him. Still, he might just be able to...
“Um, excuse me, baron,” interrupted Snowdrop. The white mare looked nervous. “Endre.” She bobbed towards the moose. “Could you help me put the foals to bed, baron?”
The moose looked up at the sky where the sun was still a short distance from the horizon. “It is early,” he said a little suspiciously.
“Oh, well, it’s been an exciting day for them what with the baron and all. I think it would be good for them to get a bit more sleep, and it would be good to get them out from under Guntram’s hooves, um, paws, I think it would be better.” She fidgeted a bit, pawing the ground.
The moose stared at her for a bit, then nodded. “Go,” he said.
Bowing, Snowdrop grabbed Max and pulled him towards the tent calling to the children as she went. “Bed time!” There was a chorus of disapproving calls, but the foals fell into line and followed. The inside of the tent was a little cramped with neat lines of blankets along each side. To Max’s surprise, Bread Basket was standing near the back wall, her mane dishevelled.
“Mummy!” cried one of the smallest colts loudly, and clambered over his fellows to get to the mare. Snowdrop winced at the sound and looked around nervously. Bread took the foal in her arms and hugged him tightly, tears leaking from both of their eyes.
“Pizza! Oh, thank the princess you’re safe. Don’t worry, I’m never going to let you go again!” she whispered.
Max quickly stuck his head out the tent door and looked around. The moose had returned to his guard position and the giant griffon still hovered overhead, but neither seemed to have reacted to the commotion. He turned back. “Bread, how did you get here?” he asked.
Still clutching her son Bread sank to the floor. “A few of us were watching you when you made your way into camp,” she said, “while you were distracting them we found a path leading up to the cliffs up there,” she nodded towards the side of the camp. “Good job keeping their interest on you!” Max shrugged, he’d just made things up as he went along. “We had just planned to scout out the area, like I told you, but Pizza was so close and I didn’t know when I’d ever get the chance again.” She hugged the squirming colt even more tightly, “I sent everypony else back to the village to tell them what happened, it might even get them to finally do something, while I headed down here, the paths not that bad, quite steep and winding but not difficult. Anyway when they captured you I managed to hide behind the tent, I yanked out some pegs and snuck in here. I can probably get the foals out the same way, if you can keep the bandits busy again,” she said.
“No!” exclaimed Snowdrop, trying to keep the overexcited foals under control. “It’s too dangerous! They’ll see you leave, they’ll catch you, they could hurt the foals!”
“You don’t think they won’t do that eventually?”
“I... I don’t know, but they’ve had them for weeks so far and nothing's happened yet.”
“What would you do if they had your son? If they had Pitter Patter? Would you let them hold him for a second longer if you could get him out?”
Snowdrop opened her mouth, but couldn’t seem to come up with a rebuttal.
“I think it’s a good plan,” said Max, taking charge. “I’ll see what I can do to get their attention for a while. Get the foals ready to go.” Bread nodded.
“But if they find out they’re gone, they’ll hurt you. They might kill you!” exclaimed Snowdrop.
“Probably not. They want me as a hostage. They think they can get a ransom. I’ll be fine,” he said with a weak smile. “Besides, this is my land. I’m responsible for you all.”
“You’re, you’re a brave stallion, baron,” said Snowdrop, resting a hoof on his leg.
“I think anypony else would do the same in the same situation,” he said with a shrug. A better pony would probably not get himself into the situation in the first place.
“We’re ready,” said Snowdrop. The foals had lined up near the back of the tent and she was lifting the back wall, ready for them to crawl under.
“Ok,” said Max. “Give me a minute or two to get their attention, then go.”