//------------------------------// // Spring 4: Friends In Low Places // Story: Harvest Seasons // by Bucephalus //------------------------------// Spring Chapter 4 Friends In Low Places “Don’t ya dare brin’ mah Pa into this!” “’Tis hardly my fault if uncle happens to be the source of your anger.” “Ah am not angry! Ah just don’t think the Faraway Farm should reopen, especially if it’s sold to some rude pegasus with no knack to farmin’.” “Really? ‘Twas my impression that the only thing you needed to be a farmer was the will to try. Skills are only gained through experience.” “Now don’t ya go twistin’ mah words, Cobbler! Ah remember what Ah said back then!” As the argument between the two orange mares grew louder and louder, George couldn’t help but tap Twilight with his hoof and give a small nod towards the two. “I take it you don’t have any idea what’s going on either?” George asked, voicing his confusion. The purple alicorn scratched her head, looking rather troubled. “No. I’ve never seen Applejack act like this. And I met Apple Cobbler years ago, and she certainly wasn’t like… this,” Twilight answered, making a vague gesture towards the cloaked mare. Even George, as thickheaded as he was when it came to other people’s feelings, could feel the animosity between the two orange mares, rising upwards like thick steam from a sauna. There was no outright hatred in their eyes, but their countenance was like that of a snake and a mongoose: two fated enemies whose way of life was at odds with that of the other. In the red corner was the down-to-earth mare with a country accent; in the blue corner, the enigmatic pony speaking in an old-fashioned manner. Still, I suppose it makes sense for the cowhorse to be so much in my face about this whole deal. If her father was a part of it closing down in the first place, this must be personal. George mused. Figures the supernatural farm dragging innocent humans to some twisted up other dimension had some enemies in the past. “It hardly seems like your place, dear cousin, to be dictating what this stallion is supposed to do with a place he himself bought,” Apple Cobbler said with a smirk. “I must admit, your tendency to stick your muzzle into other ponies’ businesses leaves much to be desired.” “Don’t think Ah don’t know what this is ‘bout, Cobbler,” Applejack said, jabbing the other mare with her front leg. “Ah understand ya don’t think too kindly of me, but that ain’t no reason to let this Sparrow-feller have the Faraway Farm.” “Oh, ‘tis a perfectly valid reason, dear cousin,” Cobbler answered. “I admit, ‘twas not the reason I originally came here for, but it has proven to be a worthy cause to strive for. Or, at least a distraction for the moment.” Applejack snorted loudly, giving a dirty glare to the other mare, who simply smiled stiffly back. Seeing this momentary lull in the argument, Twilight decided to wedge herself into the discussion in order to direct it to safer waters. Waving her front leg, she caught the attention of Apple Cobbler. “Umm, excuse me?” Twilight asked, smiling rather sheepishly. “Why did you come here, then?” “Ah, good day to you too, Your Majesty,” Apple Cobbler said and made a small bow towards the alicorn. “I do not know if you remember, but as you can see, I happen to be a travelling merchant.” Having said that, Apple Cobbler flashed a small badge fastened to her travelling cloak. Twilight’s eyes widened slightly in understanding. “‘Twas the previous fall that I last visited Ponyville, and it seems the town has changed quite a lot,” Cobbler continued. “For example, I had some trouble locating the D’oro Trading Company’s brokerage house. ‘Twas also my intention to take care of the tariff here, as per custom there was no one at the checkpoint near the town.” “Um, yes, I’ve been meaning to do something about that,” Twilight said and chuckled in embarrassment. “There’s just been so much to do after Tirek’s attack a couple of months back. It was in that same attack that D’oro Trading Company’s brokerage house, along with many other buildings, was destroyed. They’re now residing on the other side of the river.” “Ah, many thanks,” Cobbler said and did another small bow. “And the topic of the tariff? If possible, I would like to sell my wares as soon as possible.” “Hold yer horses, Apple Cobbler,” Applejack interjected, shooting a glare at the mare. “We’re still discussin’ the matter of this feller here gettin’ the Faraway Farm. Ya can wait fer yer turn.” “Oh, ‘twas my impression that the matter was already finished.” The merchant feigned surprise. “Surely you realize that you are protesting overmuch?” “Ah can’t accept it. Even if this Sparrow feller opened the farm, he ain’t got no bits to run it. No capital fer equipment or crop seeds, no experience, no functional buildings… Land sakes! That there is a disaster waitin’ to happen.” “Cousin, he could do as all the others have done, and simply take a loan,” Cobbler said dryly. “’Tis a simple solution, no?” “An’ who in the wide wide world of Equestria would give a loan to an unseasoned, fresh outta barnyard door farmer like him?” Applejack asked, cocking an eyebrow. Wait, Equestria? George thought, grimacing heavily. Oh, great. So this whole place is named all horse-like. I guess it’s too much to hope for any friends with fingers and toes. This day just keeps getting better. “Well, I’ve no reason to refuse being his co-signer,” Cobbler stated somewhat smugly. “Give me half a day to sell my wares, and I should have enough capital to reassure any lender. The word of a successful merchant should be enough, yes?” That was finally the straw that broke the camel’s back, at least for George. While he had no intention of getting involved in the bad blood between two alien creatures, this was still his future that was under discussion. Sure, he knew he had to get a loan if he wanted to get enough capital to start up his farm, but still, a travelling merchant suddenly appearing and declaring she would be his co-signer? George had met enough conmen to know when something sounded suspicious. “Now wait just a minute,” George said, stepping forward and pointing at Apple Cobbler. “Just… who the hell are you? And why the sudden interest in my situation? Well, apart from hating Cabbage Patch—” “Applejack,” the pony in question corrected. “—Applejack here.” “As I do believe I said, I am a travelling merchant by trade. As for my name, would it not be proper to introduce yourself first, before demanding me to? Alas, I think my dear cousin did let my name slip just before, but a proper, civilized greeting is never a bad thing, is it?” Apple Cobbler said with a sly smile. “… I suppose not,” George said, narrowing his eyes. “The name’s George Sparrow. Or Gorge Sparrow. Whatever you want to mangle it into.” “And I am Apple Cobbler. ‘Twas simple, no? And very polite, unlike some of the other meetings in this room,” the merchant said, glancing at Applejack. “As for my interest in your plight, ‘twas not my intention to make you suspicious. I simply had to act when I finally could, if you’ll pardon the expression, knock my dear cousin off her high horse.” Oh great, George groaned internally. It makes puns. The joy. “Like Ah said, this ain’t no time fer our old rivalries, Apple Cobbler,” Applejack said, sounding a bit more pleading than before. “Ya know why mah Pa drove the Faraway Farm outta business. If it opens up again…” “Oh? ‘Twas not his own greed which fueled his ambition?” Cobbler asked, faking surprise. “In any event, dear cousin, perhaps you should have thought of this possibility a few years ago. If you had, it could very well be that I would not be this keen on helping this poor stallion.” To his surprise, George could hear the bitter sting hiding behind those words. It was something he had least expected to find in such a colorful, nauseatingly cheerful-looking place. However, this mare clearly had it against Applejack, and was not above shoving her resentment into the cowhorse’s face. She almost flaunted it. For George, it was almost like looking into a mirror. “So, let me get this straight: you’re helping me, a complete stranger, financially just because you’ve got a grudge against the one trying to stop me?” George asked, cocking an eyebrow. “Oh, heaven’s no,” Cobbler answered and chuckled. “I am a merchant, after all. I shall be expecting a good portion of your earnings once you get the farm back on its feet. ‘Tis clearly an investment, see?” George couldn’t stop his own expression melting into a grin. Hearing those words spoken aloud relit the flame of his hope for this place. It was as if he had finally found a small imperfection in an otherwise flawless diamond. In other words, he found it very reassuring. “So greed and personal vendetta? I think I can dig that,” George said while offering his hoof. “A human without vices is always hiding something, after all.” “Human?” came the question from the three mares. “Ergh, pony, whatever, just roll with it,” George hurried to correct himself. “Then I shall. And your words ring true. ‘Tis a personal rule of mine to never conduct business with ponies who seem too altruistic. Among them usually are the vilest of snakes,” Apple Cobbler answered with a grin of her own, and shook George’s hoof. “To find somepony who shares my sentiment… it almost seems like a fated encounter, as ‘twere.” “Just don’t expect to mooch off of my hard work, and we’ll be fine,” George added. “Even if you’re my co-signer, I don’t intend to be your serf.” “I am not so shameless as to thoughtlessly live off of other ponies’ work,” Cobbler said and gave George a proud smile. “They do not call me ‘Wise Westward-Walking Witch’ for nothing in the bayou. ‘Tis important to me that the farm thrives, and so, you can count on my knowledge to help you. It shall be interesting to work with you, Gorge Sparrow.” “Likewise, Apple Cobbler,” George answered. Seeing the two of them shake hooves, Twilight smiled amicably. For her, the Princess of Friendship, seeing two ponies get along so well from the get-go was always heart warming. Even if she was a bit unsure whether or not it was a good thing these two had joined forces, she couldn’t deny she was hoping this would be a good experience for them. Since both Sparrow and Cobbler were not the friendliest of ponies, perhaps working together would teach them about magic of friendship. Or that was what Twilight hoped. Meanwhile, Applejack was groaning in frustration and rubbing her temples. “Now wait just a darn minute,” Applejack said, stepping forth. “Ya still hafta sell yer wares to get enough capital fer this. What are ya even sellin’? Last time ya were here, I remember ya left with bushel of spices an’ nothing else.” “Oh, it happens to be something of a family specialty I am selling this time, dear cousin,” Apple Cobbler said with a sly smile. “Beg yer pardon?” Applejack asked, tilting her head. Cobbler’s smile widened. “Apples.” ◊◊◊—Harvest Seasons: Spring—◊◊◊ After Apple Cobbler had gone over the tariff of her goods with Twilight, the whole group moved outside in order to check the wares she was carrying. Applejack in particular was interested in the apples. George found out that, indeed, the hat-wearing pony was in the business of apple-farming herself, and apparently owned the orchard that he had seen from his own farmstead. Therefore, it was logical that Applejack was skeptical about her cousin’s wares. Even George found it strange that Apple Cobbler was selling the one thing this town should have an ample supply off. However, as they reached the large wagon waiting outside the castle and Apple Cobbler pulled aside the cloth covering it, George quickly understood that he had made something of a hasty assumption. What he saw was not multiple big crates taking up most of the space in the cart, but numerous small barrels stacked tightly and sealed even tighter. “’Tis as I said: sixteen barrels of apples, weighing close to ten nails each,” Apple Cobbler said, pride seeping into her voice. “Finer apples have ne’er been brought from the Griffon Kingdoms to the east. ‘Twas not a small price I paid for them, I assure you.” “Ya know, sugarcube, ain’t lookin’ to rain on yer parade, but that’s still apples ya got there,” Applejack said and chuckled. “An’ Ponyville’s learnt to trust the Sweet Apple Acres brand. Ain’t no exotic variant or two turnin’ their heads ‘round.” For a moment, George was pondering if Apple Cobbler was related to the Cheshire Cat; so wide was her gleeful grin. “Oh, I suppose we shall see about that, no?” Apple Cobbler said, patting one of the barrels. “You see, unlike here in Equestria, in the griffon lands ‘tis still winter: a season of preserves, as ‘twere. And they have such a curious method of preserving fruit on those mountains, nothing like the crude pickling we practice in these lands. The fruits in question, apples in this case, are thinly sliced and, along with figs and almonds, then stacked into these barrels. After honey is poured in, ginger is added on top of it all, keeping it quite edible for multitude of fortnights. ‘Twas my impression that such a method would make them quite a bit tastier compared to your… regular… apples.” Listening to the explanation, George snapped out of his trance once the mare was silent again. He quickly wiped off the drool that had been forming, and noticed he wasn’t the only one. Applejack looked almost enamored with the barrels and their contents, to the point that Apple Cobbler had to step between her and the wares. “Dear cousin, it would be much appreciated if you would stop staring at my wares like a predator hiding in tall grass,” Cobbler said, glaring at the other orange mare. “’Twas my intention to sell them, not let them be devoured by an apple-crazy zealot.” “Well, they certainly sound delicious,” Twilight commented from the side and giggled. “I wouldn’t mind trying them out… but aren’t honey-preserved apples usually something only the nobles can afford? Why sell them here in Ponyville?” Apple Cobbler smiled smugly and tapped one of the barrels, as if she had been a proud parent showing off her talented child to a bunch of colleagues from the same book-club. After making that surprising connection, George also realized that these ponies seemed very serious about something as mundane as apples. The mere idea of an apple-focused rural town was enough to send shivers down his spine. He’d have to find a way to add meat to his diet, and quick. “Your Majesty, if I might remind you, I am simply selling these to the brokerage house of this town. It is not my intention to deal with customers directly here. Of course, there are some wealthy buyers in Ponyville, such as the Rich family,” Apple Cobbler explained as she threw the cloth back to cover the barrels. “Whilst they could buy the apples as a bulk, I have the suspicion that my wares will simply head further up the road, all the way to Canterlot. ‘Tis not in my style to deal with the fools of the capital, and as such, I shall leave that hassle to the merchants of D’oro Trading Company.” As she talked, the orange pony secured her cargo once more, before making her way to the front of the cart. There, she easily slipped into the harness that was waiting, so that she could pull the thing around. The sight made George snicker, though he tried to subdue to the best of his ability when the three ponies looked at him with raised eyebrows. So even if they can talk, they still pull heavy stuff around? Reno’s mullet, they weren’t kidding when they called horses the idiots of the animal kingdom, George thought and cackled in his mind. “So, you’re heading straight to D’oro brokerage house now?” Twilight suddenly asked. “I’ll show you the way. Their new building isn’t as grand as before, so it’s a bit hard to spot.” “Ah hafta disagree,” Applejack commented with a somewhat dry expression. “They still insist on paintin’ the darn thing turquoise fer who-knows-what reason. Ah ain’t never gonna get what foreigners think.” “Well, ignoring my cousin’s narrow-minded view of the world…” Apple Cobbler threw a dirty glance at Applejack. “… Yes, ‘twas my intention of handling this situation as quick as I could. Strike while the iron is hot, as ‘twere.” “Great! We can give Gorge here a small tour to Ponyville while we’re at it!” Twilight exclaimed happily, completely ignoring the animosity between the two mares. “Ugh. I guess I need to learn about this place if I wanna do business here. Sparkle on, then, you crazy pony,” George muttered, and gestured the trio to lead the way. “Ah think the only crazy one here’s you, feller,” Applejack commented with a raised eyebrow, earning a glare from George. “Bite me,” he very eloquently shot back. So began the brief but informative tour of the town George started, begrudgingly, referring to as “Ponyville.” Since the castle resided on the outer edge of the town, across the river from the brokerage house, he got a good look at the village and all the outlandish sights it had to offer. The town was built around the Rouge River that lazily meandered through the plains, its source being somewhere up in the mountains to the north. The river cut the town basically in half, bending around the town square and continuing into the forest that grew near the Faraway Farm. It was a branch of that same river that flowed next to said farmstead, too. It seemed that almost all farmland around the town, both his and Applejack’s included, were south of the town. While George had no problem when it came to memorizing the geographical features of the town (he even admitted to himself that it felt somewhat good to get a sense of where he was), the same could not be said for the “important buildings” of Ponyville. First on the list was the town hall, which George had already seen by a glimpse. It seemed that some sort of gathering was taking place there, as an alarming number of ponies had amassed there, prompting George to hurry his guides up. Next, there was the Sugarcube Corner, a confectionery shop that made George feel personally insulted through its design and color-scheme. Following that came, in quick order, the marketplace, the spa, and the hospital. For, as Twilight put it: “All your everyday needs!” This prompted George to inquire the location of the nearest bar. Judging from the two confused glances and one husky laughter, only Apple Cobbler seemed to understand what he had meant. The final place Twilight pointed out before the brokerage house was the so-called “Carousel Boutique” where, apparently, one could get designer clothes for any big event that required such. As the purple pony princess happily continued her explanation, George couldn’t help but roll his eyes and make a gagging motion at the obnoxious sight of the building. “’Tis my impression you do not much care for traditional Equestrian architecture,” Apple Cobbler said with a hint of amusement in her voice. “This does raise the question, though: why would you then move here, and even buy a farm so you could start up a business?” For a second, George’s brains felt as if a needle had scratched a record. The question came so out of left field he wasn’t sure it was even in the same ballpark. Still, now that he was put on the plate, he had no choice but to show he was up to the bat. “… You know, I have no idea,” he answered, grunting as he did. “I mean, if I had a choice, I wouldn’t be here. But, what’cha gonna do? Considering what I’ve been through, I’m starting to think grudge-filled apathy is the right way to behave in my situation.” “A wise choice, if a bit cynical overmuch,” Cobbler said. “Then again, the positive countenance of the locals is somewhat daunting at times. I cannot claim I do not enjoy the trips to different regions precisely because of that.” “Which reminds me: you sure about this?” George asked. “You said you’re a travelling merchant, and now you throw it away because you happened across someone with a way to stick it up to your cousin? It sounds both stupid and suspicious.” Apple Cobbler chuckled and flashed her Cheshire cat-like grin. “’Twas a moment’s decision, sure, but sometimes you have to make such in this business,” she answered. “Of course, ‘tis also known that the Faraway Farm, when it was still used, produced the most bountiful harvest in all of Ponyville, maybe even all of Equestria. So, if the same old magic would still apply, the profit I would make of this investment would be well worth it.” Then, as if just remembering it, Cobbler made a non-committed gesture while walking. “Still, I shall leave when the winter comes, as usual. It is in my nature to head to the south during autumn, and not return till early spring,” she explained. George gave her a dubious glance. “Don’t tell me you also own a shabby, wide-brimmed hat and play harmonica,” George flatly said. “Hmh? How did you know?” Cobbler asked, looking rather surprised. George hit his forehead with his forehoof, only to lose his balance and fall to the ground as a pile of limbs and curses. This finally got the attention of Twilight, and the group continued their journey. The brokerage house was close by, the tour had come to an end. Now it was time to sell some wares. ◊◊◊—Harvest Seasons: Spring—◊◊◊ When they arrived, George saw that it was just as Applejack had described. The D’oro Trading Company’s branch building was bright turquoise in color, making it stand out even among the obnoxious designs of the rest of the town. As they walked through the huge, still only half-built gate for wagon traffic, Apple Cobbler explained to them that it was because the D’oro, though they were from a nation even further to south, were still part of Prance’s Merchant’s Guild. This color was used to identify officially guild-sanctioned trading houses, and the shade of turquoise was, indeed, referred to as “Merchant Blue.” As they arrived to the loading area, which was a veritable chaos of ponies running left and right while shouting orders at each other, Apple Cobbler could not help but comment on the hustle and bustle. “’Twas my impression that the D’oro wanted to be perceived as efficient and quick, with attention to detail and good service,” she spoke. “Then why is it that these bandit-like stallions gallop around us, throwing wheat and timber around like they were trash of yesterday?” “That’d be ‘cause of Tirek,” Applejack answered, nodding to the construction that was still under way at the building. “He caused a heck of a lot of damage in this town, an’ like Twilight here told ya, D’oro’s was hit mighty hard.” “Luckily there wasn’t much stored in their warehouse back then,” Twilight added with a slightly sad expression. “But I hear they still had to give a lot of credit to those whose wares did get destroyed in the battle.” “Well, I suppose that does make sense,” Cobbler said, frowning slightly. “I just do hope it does not affect their ability to pay in cash.” As the group got inside, they were introduced of the sight of a large hall with piles of lumber, straw, and stone waiting for the construction workers. These piles were side-by-side with large crates that undoubtedly contained wares of the trading company. Before they could get a closer look at this questionable manner of storage, their attention was directed to the beret-wearing stallion that gave them a quick bow. As George noted, it was slightly different in manner when compared to the ones ponies had given to Twilight, as if to signify cultural differences. “Ah, Apple Cobbler! So good to see you again!” the stallion, looking more fitting for an accountant’s office than a construction yard, greeted them. “As always, the D’oro Trading Company thanks you for your patronage. As for the rest of you, I offer you a greeting as well, Miss Twilight, Miss Applejack. And… um, I do believe you have me at a disadvantage, good sir.” “Good. I’d hate for anything with an Italian accent to have the advantage over me,” George stated flatly. However, after Applejack had given him a harsh stare, he finally caved in. “Okay, fine. George Sparrow. Gorge Sparrow. Whatever.” “And I am, as some of you may know, Tempo Denaro,” the stallion introduced himself. “Now, how may I serve you, la padrona?” Wait, I thought the whole Italy-thing was just a joke? George thought in his mind. Is he seriously from Italy? No, wait, earlier Cobbler mentioned… Prance? Are… are there more countries in this messed up world than one? Each with their own horse-related pun!? Luckily the rest of the ponies were too engrossed in the negotiations, so they never saw how George, repeatedly, smashed his head against the stone wall. “’Tis the task of selling, Tempo, that has brought me here once more. This time, I am carrying a most coveted of cargos, for I have managed to procure a shipment of honey-preserved apples, all the way from the Griffon Kingdom,” Apple Cobbler explained with a hint of theatrical flair creeping into her voice. She cleared her throat loudly before continuing. “Sixteen barrels of honey-preserved sliced apples, stored with figs and almonds and mixed with ginger. ‘Tis not often that the griffons agree to sell this favorite of the nobles to ponies. Therefore, I do hope the wares speak for themselves and their assured quality. Indeed, ne’er has there been a day that we could accuse the imports of the Griffon Kingdom to be faulty. Thus, I trust that you make the right decision, and see these apples as not the common everyday food that they are in this town, but as a luxurious treat for the cream of Canterlot, where they will undoubtedly fetch a price much higher than they do here today. And even if I would praise them overmuch, let me assure you, they are still worth thrice every coin you pay for them.” Tempo Denaro nodded in agreement, examining the barrels with sparkling eyes. It seemed that Cobbler’s little speech had some effect on the merchant, as he had hard time keeping his face from twisting into an excited smile. After his inspection was over, he turned back to face the mare while giving her a tentative nod. “Well then, let us get down to the business,” Tempo said, and nodded to his assistant who had been on the standby. Said pony quickly lifted up an abacus with his hooves. “I can see that these are apples of excellent variety, and the mere rumor that they would hail from the Griffon Kingdoms would raise their price to a great deal. There are sixteen barrels in total, am I correct?” “Indeed,” Apple Cobbler answered. “Each of them weighs close to ten nails. You can rest assured that every inch of them has been used properly.” “Of course, of course, I would not suspect a foul play there,” Tempo said and started moving the wooden beads of the abacus. “Now, taking in account our long partnership and cordial relationship when it comes to business… how would this offer sit with you?” George saw that the in the third row of the abacus, eight white beads had been moved up, separating them from the rest. Apple Cobbler was staring at these beads with a hint of a frown adorning her face, before glancing at the trader. “Eight hundred? And the currency is?” she asked. “Of course, the golden bit of Equestria,” Tempo hurried to answer. This simply made the mare emit a nod of acknowledgment, before she took a step back, and looked at her barrels once more. “Now then… ‘tis a rare chance, I might remind you, to have your hooves on a quality product such as this,” Cobbler spoke. “While honey is a great preservative during the winter, it will not behave so well in the heat of the Equestrian spring. ‘Twas not easy to transport them here in this prime condition. However, due to my care and preparations, they are as delicious as the day they were sealed into the barrels. Oh, nay, I would say they are even more luxurious in taste, as they have had the time to let the taste of ginger and honey seep into the succulent, yet ripe, flesh that lies beneath their skin. ‘Twere no expenses spared, I assure you, when it came to transporting them.” “Ah, I see, I see,” Tempo said while nodding. “It is true that the rise in the interest to imported goods would give more market to apples such as these. Especially if care has been given to their transportation, we can assure our clients of quality, and expect them to make further purchases from us. Taking that into account… how does eight hundred and fifty golden bits sound?” While this conversation went back and forth, George leaned a bit closer to Twilight and Applejack, who were following the trade with interest. He had seen his share of haggling, but this felt almost as if it was from some medieval faire. The grandiose words they used, not to mention the terms for both money and measurements, felt oddly foreign and old to his ear. Therefore, he had to know more about the situation to get any understanding of it. “So... eight hundred and fifty?” he asked with a hushed voice from the mares. “Is that a good market price?” “Ya darn right it is,” Applejack said, not looking too pleased with that. “Ah couldn’t get such sum fer a wagon of apples even if the wagon came with ‘em. Ah know them luxury goods sell like hot coals, but Ah can hardly believe what Ah’m hearin’ here.” “Eight hundred and fifty. Eight hundred and fifty…” Apple Cobbler repeated, as if she was deep in thought. “Yes, that would be our offer, indeed…” Tempo echoed her, smiling in a slightly nervous way. Even George could see that the stallion wanted to seal the deal before anything unexpected could happen. Of course, when one makes such a wish, it’s like inviting the unexpected to drive through your bedroom window with a semi. “Eight hundred and fifty golden bits!” Apple Cobbler yelled out so loud that everypony within earshot turned to look at her. She had jumped on top of her wagon and was now staring down at the poor trader, pointing her hoof at him. “Dost thou taketh me for a fool!? Am I to be made fun of in front of all these experienced traders!? ‘Tis a grave insult thou threweth at my face, Tempo! Or did thee think I wouldst not realize the true nature of this situation!?” Oh, wow. Her way of speaking got at least five times fancier, George mused. Is she… is she doing it on purpose? “N-no, it was not my intention to insult you, Lady Cobbler!” Tempo hurried to calm the mare down. “If I have made a mistake, please inform me of my misconduct.” “Well. ‘Tis a situation where thou presumeth me to not know my current company,” Cobbler said, before suddenly pointing at Twilight. “When I left this fine town, Miss Twilight Sparkle was still but the apprentice of Princess Celestia. But, lo and behold! While I was gone, she completed her training, and her coronation was the talk of the land. Thou must taketh me for a wet-behind-the-ears filly if thou believeth I didst not hear of her ascension to royalty! And what’s worse, thou tried to take advantage of such foolishness! As if I didst not know what it means for a princess to observe the trading of a luxury food such as this!” It was like an electric shock had run through the room. Almost everypony was staring at Twilight now, who in turn was looking at Cobbler with wide eyes of disbelief. Applejack, on the other hand, had already realized where this was going, and looked like she had been hit on the head with a mallet. George, though, was having a hard time hiding his grin. Oh, she’s good. She’s really good, he thought. Using something like this to her advantage… she is about to string that trader for all he has. “’Tis well known that what food the royalty of Equestria has taketh a liking to shall be the talk of the whole country!” Cobbler continued her speech, crushing Tempo with her stare. “And as such, this shipment of apples would be, for the moment, the most contested of wares amongst the true nobles of Canterlot! Of course, ‘tis only if Princess Twilight doth not intend to acquire them herself!” “What!?” Twilight cried out in protest. “But I wasn’t—“ “Dost thou understand that I have seen through thy plan, Tempo?” Cobbler asked with a cocked eyebrow and a cool expression. “Now wouldst be the time to make me an offer based on the true value of these apples, methinks.” The stallion was quick to catch on the intention of the mare. He racked the abacus like a madman, before nearly shoving it into Cobbler’s face with bullets of cold sweat running down his face. Apple Cobbler calmly analyzed the sum displayed for her. “Hmm. Thousand and two hundred golden bits, you say?” Cobbler asked. Applejack looked like she was about to choke from the surprise. “Well… ‘tis a situation where I do want both of us to profit from,” Cobbler finally said while smiling like the striped cat of Wonderland. “What would you say of buying the whole wagon for eighty gold bits per barrel?” Thousand and two hundred eighty gold coins. As George looked around, he saw the bulging eyes and flabbergasted faces of the ponies around him. Even he, who had no idea about the currency of this world, understood that this sum was ludicrous. However, Apple Cobbler had masterfully utilized the presence of royalty to her advantage, bringing the pressure on to Tempo instead. Now, the only question left in this battle of wits and words was if the stallion would crack under the pressure. Indeed, after about ten seconds of frantic thinking, Tempo Denora cracked like a twig under a boulder. “… Very well. Eighty golden bits per barrel, it is,” the stallion finally admitted, looking like all air had been sucker-punched out of him. Meanwhile, Apple Cobbler was looking extremely smug as she winked at George. “Nice doing business with you,” the mare said, her voice tinted with the sweet taste of victory.