//------------------------------// // Stromness Town - Jigsaw // Story: Northland // by Celefin //------------------------------// It was a little too early in the morning even to Moorland's liking, but then again he was dealing with tribals. It wouldn't be much of a surprise to learn that they didn't even have an expression for 'too early in the morning'. The orange Iceland pony had already left the guest house when he arrived and had taken the other one along. He sighed. Dawn had reprimanded him the day before in private. Again. His brother did have a point, so he admonished himself in turn along the same lines. She had taken her brother with her. More akin to dragged him with her, he presumed, since the stallion still hadn't looked too good last night. He could approve of that course of action. The building the two had stayed in for the last two days was otherwise only used on baking days. It was quite spacious, since a whole group of mares might need a roof over their heads in case of unfavourable weather. No one wanted to have a soaked mane dripping onto their freshly baked bread after all. It also kept the peat and kindling dry. He exited the simple shelter behind the Royal Hotel and trotted out into the morning mist again, turning in the direction of the harbour. It should be a fine day today and make for pleasant travelling. Not that Ochre would care much, he presumed. If he was honest with himself there was quite a bit about Ochre he could approve of; after all it wasn't her fault she lacked proper education. She had a lot more between her ears than the average member of the Stromness community. Given the chance, she could likely achieve quite a bit of sophistication, unlike their own emissary. With a shake of his head he quickened his pace and soon reached the open space of the harbour parking lot. Ochre was standing at the far end when he trotted out from main street. She was, by the looks of it, having breakfast. He grimaced. She was grazing on the small adjoining piece of seriously poor meadow. In his opinion, 'not wanting to be a bother' was very commendable but should only be exercised within certain limits. It should not lead to choose damp weeds over a lovingly prepared breakfast. Mother was going to be depressed for the rest of the day. She'd also compensate at the next opportunity, he reminded himself, so it wasn't all bad. While trotting over he noticed her younger brother leaning against the wreck of a lorry. He still looked very tired indeed. His name translated to 'Dark Red', something that had already piqued his interest. 'Ochre' and 'Red' did not only match their coat colours but also seemed to fit their temperaments quite well. Granted, he hadn't exactly known the two for anything near long enough to draw such a conclusion, but he liked the hypothesis. Contemporary South Ronaldsay naming conventions seemed like an interesting topic. That wasn't why he got up that early today to catch the two tribals alone though. He had more important matters on his mind. “Good morning!” he called out, making the red stallion wince before muttering a reply of sorts. Ochre lifted her head from what looked like an intricate patchwork she had created on the ground. Only the most palatable plants and grasses were missing between all the weeds. Left behind were entangled lines and small clearings between hoofprints. Maybe not all that tasty or nourishing, but certainly impressive. All-year survival in the open landscape did require some special skills, of course. Interesting. He realized the mare had returned the greeting and was looking at him expectantly, head cocked to the side. “Yes? Moorland, was it not?” “Yes, it is. My apologies, I was momentarily distracted by your, for want of a better expression, grazing skills.” She snorted, looking amused. “Solstice described you well.” “He did?” “Yes.” A small grin played over her muzzle. There didn't seem to be any more information forthcoming, so after a little awkward pause he cleared his throat. There was the distinct slurping sound of someone drinking from a shallow puddle behind him. Slowly, accompanied by a quiet groan. He coughed into a fetlock and tried to block out the sound with a soft shudder. “Anyway.” He cleared his throat once more and looked at the mare again. For some reason, she always seemed slightly amused in his presence. He found it somewhat enervating. “Would you mind if I asked you a few questions I've had on my mind for a while now? About your, well, group?” This time her snort morphed into a good-natured laugh. “My tribe?” He blinked. “So I can call you a tribal?” “No,” she replied with a sour expression. “Oh.” “One of the tribes.” It was all he could do to not roll his eyes. “That's settled then. I do apologize, I meant no offence.” She nodded, the former mirth having returned to her eyes. “Well, ask. I will try to answer.” “Thank you Ochre,” he began, “I've been wondering about the implications of you being the niece of your chieftain when I'd expected your father to hold this position. After all, isn't your uncle having challenged your father rather non-conducive for good family relations?” She looked at him with her mouth slightly open and ears flicking nervously. “What?” With a little sigh he started over. “My apologies. I already forgot that you're just...,” he mentally kicked himself, “That you speak two languages. Difficult.” He took it for a good sign when the expected scowl didn't appear on her face. “You are your leader's niece. Did he challenge your father? That just seems strange to me, is all.” “Father died when I was a filly,” she said in a casual tone. “Broke a leg. Mother allowed uncle to take over.” He blinked, perplexed. “He's next of kin, isn't he? Why would he need her permission?” Now, after a second of confusion, the scowl did appear. “Leading mare,” she deadpanned. “Right, right, of course,” he hurried to reply. He had the most unsettling feeling of being out of his depth. “I'm sorry. I had the impression that he was your sole leader. Solstice should have told us that this wasn't the case.” The scowl deepened and her voice became terse. “Solstice has not done anything wrong!” He winced at the sudden hostility. “What?” Ochre took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a moment and continued in a much calmer tone. “I am sorry. Tired.” There was a little pause. “Mother did not choose a mate again. Uncle kept position. Mother died three winters ago.” This was indeed uncharted territory. It immediately piqued his interest and relegated all other questions to the back of his mind. “So... I take it he can't appoint a successor either then?” “No. Mare does that when she takes over. Can also change decision later.” Ochre frowned. “I do not know,” she began. “Mother never did. I think.” “Isn't that a risky situation if something happens to him?” he prodded. “You obviously didn't take on the mantle, which begs the question of who does perform the duty of appointing the next chieftain then, if leadership isn't hereditary?” He cleared his throat upon seeing her bewildered expression. “Sorry. I mean, who gets to say then if the position doesn't just pass from mother to daughter?” She opened her mouth to answer but then hesitated and looked down at her hooves. Her tail swished.“I... did not think of that.” “Will all of you fight? What about your rank?” The confidence she usually displayed seemed all but gone as she fidgeted in place. “I see.” He contemplated the situation for a few moments. “Why doesn't he take a mare then?” She did a double take and stared at him for a few seconds before blurting out “Stallion cannot ask mare for offer! Lose all honour if found out!” He sat down on his haunches and held up his forehooves. “My apologies.” He tried to keep the annoyance out of his tone but was sure he failed. “Then please explain to me how this is supposed to work. I seem incapable of comprehending the mechanism behind - sorry.” A deep breath. “Does no mare want him?” Ochre cocked her head in bewilderment. “Of course they do. They fear to offer.” “Hold on. You said that - wait. Forget it. Why?” “Deep shame when rejected. Faoileag is a good leader. But hard to read.” He covered his eyes with his fetlocks, slowly shook his head and took a very deep breath. After dragging the tips of both hooves down his muzzle, he saw that Ochre at least had the decency to look just as confused as he felt. He motioned with a hoof for her to go on. After an uncertain pause, she nodded. “There is one. She might dare to make the offer soon. I know her. I think he would accept.” She scuffed a hoof on the broken tarmac and looked away. “Or maybe not... because I...,” she trailed off. She cleared her throat before looking back at him. “You are right.” He nodded with some satisfaction and a half-smile. If she noticed, she didn't show any reaction to it. “It is a great risk. Maybe someone should challenge uncle.” “And how would that work then, if you still need a leading mare?” he asked in a carefully controlled tone. “Just replacing the leader with another stallion isn't enough in this setting.” She looked uncomfortable. “A mare with a mate. He fights the leader. He wins; his mare is leading mare.” He blinked. “That is certainly,” he coughed into a fetlock, “An interesting arrangement.” “Maybe uncle does not fight. Just makes them leaders. If he thinks they are good. He could.” There was a little hope back in her voice. A smile crept unto his muzzle. “What about you then? A mare like you surely has no issue commanding respect. And you are kin.” There was a certain joy in getting to watch her squirm, truth be told. “My apologies if I am being too forward, but do you have a mate?” Her ears splayed back before he had even finished the sentence. “No!” There was an awkward silence, only disturbed by the agitated swishing of her tail. She stomped a hind hoof and gave what sounded very much like a curse in Whinny. “I have,” she muttered but added “Uncle does not know.” She looked away. “Not yet.” If there was anything he loved, it was finding solutions to tricky problems. “Splendid! Then-” “I do not want it!” she snapped, glaring at him, or rather at a point above his right shoulder. There was a snort and two short whinnies from behind. It took him a few seconds to realize that it was, in fact, Red who had enquired about something. Likely about Ochre's outbreak. In Whinny, of course. Red's sister appeared flustered and bit back an unfriendly reply. The stallion gave a defeated sigh in response and went to lie down in a sunny spot. “Enough now,” she said in a tired voice, a far away look in her eyes. “Of course. Causing you distress wasn't my intention and it does seem I have a lot to learn indeed. Please accept my apologies once more.” He hoped the disappointment at his idea being discarded as unwelcome, infeasible or even insulting didn't show. She just nodded. A moment later there was a shout from the direction of Stromness' waterfront. For once he didn't mind Solstice interrupting a serious conversation with an intellectual equal. He noticed how Ochre's mood seemed to brighten considerably at the sight of his younger brother trotting up to them. “Hiya there! Damn, you three were up early.” Solstice frowned at him. “Didn't expect you here Moor.” His brother gave him a lopsided grin. “You mingling with tribals?” He felt his ears beginning to splay back but managed to keep his composure, although it wasn't easy. Ochre's failure to suppress a snort didn't help in the slightest. “Yes, I was curious about South Ronaldsay customs and felt it opportune to enquire about them. And I'd ask you to refrain from putting words in my muzzle. Unlike others, I'm able and willing to admit to being at fault and having committed a faux pas and also to adjust my viewpoints and act accordingly!” “You know, I'm pretty sure Buidhe didn't understand a word of that. Not sure I did either.” Another bright grin. “Anyway, it's appreciated!” He glared at him. Solstice's expression turned more serious. “It really is.” He cocked his head a little. “Sorry for messing with you Moor.” His smile looked sincere after that. With a little nod Solstice turned away and walked over to Ochre's brother. Red had struggled to his hooves when Solstice approached. He was looking at him wearily, his ears splayed halfway back. Solstice said something in Whinny, lowering his voice a little. He noticed that his brother appeared quite confident when using the tribe's language. The stallion was quiet for a few moments while Solstice's ears flicked about nervously. Then an exasperated half-smile crept onto Red's features. Carefully shaking his head, he held out a foreleg. Solstice gave a little grin and bumped hooves with him, accompanied by a snicker from Ochre. Feeling out of place, he cleared his throat. “Thank you for bearing with me and for giving me some insight Ochre. I hope you have a good journey home.” The mare nodded. “Thank you Moorland. I am glad,” she said and hesitated, looking past his shoulder again, “That I could help.” He wondered if that was a habit of hers. It was rather distracting, since he felt the urge to look behind himself when she did it. “Until next time then. Are you coming, Solstice?” His brother craned his neck to look back at him. “Nah, I'll, uhm, escort these two for a bit. Out of town you know. They did that for me after all and I'm, uhm, not going to break protocol.” Considering who this came from it sounded incredibly formal, despite the strained smile. All the better for it. He watched them leave, Solstice walking between the two larger horses and chatting away in Whinny. It was a strange sight to behold. Sometimes Moorland wished he hadn't read so much about chemistry, engineering, physics and applied sciences. Every now and then, all the knowledge of the achievements of the Old Folk put him in a grey mood. At those times he almost envied all those who got to live their lives in the here and now. Living their lives in ignorance of what had been. It wasn't even the big things like combustion engines or anything like that. That was so far beyond their capabilities that it might as well be fiction. It didn't bother him. Fascinating, yes, but not of any real concern. It was the knowledge of all the small things that would be so easy if they only had the tools or even just the raw materials. For example, making candles would be foals play! But paraffin required petrochemistry. Tallow was... no. The little plant oil they had was far too valuable to burn. Beeswax required the development and customization of the necessary beekeeping practice. Also, Orkney mainly had bumblebees anyway. All in all, candles were about as likely to happen any time soon as the installation of electrical lighting. As it was, he already felt a headache coming just from trying to draw a few diagrams in the dim light. The overcast sky in combination with the dense fog dimmed the light in the lobby to an uncomfortable level. He hadn't even started on the calculations yet and thinking about artificial light sources only made the room seem darker. He spat the pencil onto his makeshift drawing board in frustration. At least pencils would still be around for quite a while. Father must have spent years gathering stationery; even over a hundred years later they were in no danger of running out any time soon. The same with sharpeners. Small blessings, even if the latter were extraordinarily tricky to use. For a normal pony. Good thing he wasn't one of those. You could solve almost everything with the right tools and materials. And he was beginning to think in circles again. For once he would welcome a distraction. Mother was asleep though, catching a break from caring for the still unconscious little mare in her room. Now there was a story he couldn't wait to hear! He hoped with all his heart she'd make it. He slowly shook his head. She'd been out since before they'd brought her in over two days ago. She had started thrashing about yesterday, enough that mother felt the need to tie her up. Didn't mean she was getting better, but at least there was some hope. Dawn was out in town somewhere, perhaps looking after his younger brother. Ever since Ochre and Red had left again, Solstice seemed distracted to the point of daydreaming. The dreams didn't seem overly pleasant though, going by his constantly worried expression. Could it be that the full weight of his responsibility had finally begun to sink in? With a sigh he looked at his work again. It was quite the ambitious project, but well within their capabilities. There already was a little dam to the side of the creek that ran through the western part of town which they got their freshwater from. It served its purpose well enough, but it had certain annoying limitations. It tended to be damaged during heavy rains or snow melt. In dry summers it was a pain to draw from due to the low water level. It got dirty. Now, with a series of three weirs and a little bypass for flow regulation though... “Well, it's not as if it's an aqueduct,” he said in a low voice and smiled. “Yet.” He stood up and walked slow circles around the room, trying to stretch his stiff muscles. With each round though, the light seemed to grey and dim further until he sighed and capitulated. No more progress today. The last week had been exhausting. He was used to giving his level best despite Dawn being the leader. Now he wanted to do the same for the exact same reason. It was a paradigm shift of the first order. He was unashamed to admit that he held a newfound respect for his youngest brother. It was clear now that Dawn's mental flexibility and resilience matched his own. Admirable. The last circle around the lobby turned into an ellipse and he found himself pushing the door open with his forehead. Sometimes one had to be allowed to act a little uncivilized. The cool surface was also a pleasurable countermeasure against the slight pain behind his eyes. Taking care to close the door without too much noise, he stepped out into the street and filled his lungs with the damp air. Mist drifted down between the houses, obscuring anything further than thirty yards away. An aimless stroll through Stromness was the last thing he'd expected to do, but here he was. Most members of the community seemed to have sought indoor activities, few as there usually were. Only the occasional sound of ponies working drifted through the mist as he ambled down towards the harbour. It was nice. If only he could keep his brain from scanning the surroundings for anything in need of maintenance. Shut up that voice listing possible improvements. Maybe he should practice that every now and then. Take some lessons from Solstice. No. That would be taking it a little far. He tried humming a little tune instead and found it quite agreeable. The faint clip-clop of hooves coming towards him on the cobblestones brought him back to the here and now. His mood soured when the parting mist revealed a wet and more grumpy than usual looking Harvest Moon. Of course, good things never lasted. With a weary sigh he halted his steps to greet his kin. “Hello brother, what brings you to town?” “Spare me,” Harvest replied. “Don't tell me you haven't been counting the days.” “Well, I honestly can't say that I have. There's been a lot on my mind.” The grey stallion snorted. “It's been five days. Dawn made his point and I'm staying. Now I'm going to tell him as much.” He cocked his head in surprise. “Not that this isn't a welcome development, but what brought you to that decision? I was fairly sure we'd seen the last of you, no offence.” Harvest glowered at him, then sighed and sat down. “You actually interested?” “I wouldn't have inquired if I weren't, dear brother.” “Might as well, I guess. I'd have left, but half my team wanted to come with me if I did. The dolts. Couldn't convince them otherwise.” He rolled his eyes. “See, it's like this: they know I'd fight for them and that's kinda what I did. Only they've convinced themselves I won.” “Well, technically-” His brother cut him off. “Stuff it Moor. So I kicked his flank in a second. Big deal. Even you could do that. Doesn't matter. Here in Stromness, that doesn't count. The way he went all father on me after that? That counts. Even flew. Bastard. The problem is that up north they do things differently. You have a few who'd back you, but most of the herd wouldn't ever accept you as leader? You can fight for your right to leave with them. You win, you get recognized, you go it alone.” Harvest smirked. “Or give your victory to one of yours who you think would do a better job of it. Surprised? Try talking with your people for a change. Never know what you'll learn.” He realized he was looking down at his hooves and cleared his throat. “And all the northerners would go with you? Just like that?” Somehow he felt lost. “Not all of them. But those who would are a tough bunch and always adapt. I like that. How else did you think we get all the work done out there? Problem is, half of those who'd join me have lived here for too long already. Gone soft, even if they don't realize it. I don't want to risk their lives come winter, but I can't get that into those thick heads of theirs. Long story short: I spent so much time arguing with them that I actually started thinking.” He snorted derisively. “Pathetic.” “Now, I wouldn't call sitting down to think pathetic.” “You damn well know what I meant!” he growled, ears flat against his head. “I'm done. The next one who bugs me about challenging Dawn for a proper fight won't be able to walk for the next two days. It doesn't work like that around here. I'm sick of hearing it. I'm done. I've told them that much.” Harvest stomped a forehoof, sending droplets of water flying from his fetlock. “I'm conceding.” He took a deep breath and let it out in a huff. “I'll tell Dawn I'm not cut out for his job and I'll do as he says. End of story.” He took a step forward and hissed “And I dare you to tell anybody I said that. Or give a witty comment on it now.” He retreated a slow step. “I... won't,” he said, pulling back his head and tucking his tail in between his legs. “Good. Anyway, somebody has to make sure you lot don't starve. And that's me.” With that, he got up and brushed past him, heading for the Royal Hotel. He looked after his elder brother until the mist swallowed his form. So much for a little relaxation. It was the first sunny day of the whole week. Of course mother had decided to make it the Marked One's day. As if she'd known it. And he had mud up to his knees already. Measuring and staking out the weirs and the bypass had proved more difficult than expected. Of course he understood that the technicalities went way over the heads of most of his team. What he hadn't expected was that he had to show them how to do the actual digging. Granted, the layout was a bit more complicated than just a ditch. The angles needed to be quite exact as well. Still. Now his jaw hurt. They'd gotten the hang of it though eventually. Or maybe they just finished having their fun. Anyway, it was high time to get the materials for securing the inlet and outlet of the bypass in place. Everything was there, except for the one person needed for the actual work. He could do many things on his own, but not everything. Lining up and securing the first part of the small gates' framework was something requiring precision. A precision job that involved the handling of heavy objects on slippery ground was a two pony job. Salt Marsh was perfect for this. He was also absent. He did have one of the northerners for the really heavy lifting though. His team already called him 'crane'. Someone had to have acquired Salt for their own work and he was not going to accept that. When he reached the Royal Hotel he almost sneered at the impatient looking Solstice coming from the opposite direction. They stopped a length from each other. “Where's Salt?” they both snapped in unison. “I-,” they both started. “Will you stop it!?” He exclaimed. “-thought you - what? It's not always me!” Solstice gave back. “And what's going on here?” mother's voice came from the small alley they were standing in front of. She came trotting up to them, bringing with her the smell of peat smoke and bread. They both turned to look down the passage that ran along their home. “Salt was supposed to help me put the foundations in for my water management system,” he said, unable to keep the impatience out of his voice. “No he wasn't!” His younger brother blurted out. “How about you learn to read a schedule?” “I will have you know that I am perfectly capable of doing so!” he snapped. “Listen you two,” mother interjected. Sostice stomped a hoof. “Mum, we got the ground floor ready down at the Stromness Hotel! The paint's finally dry on all the windows and doors and we need to put them in place before any more water gets in and ruins the floor again and Salt's just the stallion for the job 'cause he's damn good with those fickle hinges and,-” “Will you stop it!” mother interjected once more. “And take a breath. Thank you.” “Sorry.” Solstice's ears drooped. At that moment, his elder brother arrived as well. “Where the fuck-” “Harvest Moon!” “-is Highground?” his older brother finished, coming to a skidding halt from an angry trot. “Sorry mother. Won't happen again.” The grey stallion took a deep breath. “Aren't you two supposed to be working? And where's Highground? I need him. I'm not going to spend three hours on changing the harness on that trailer or move that peat onto two smaller ones. The stuff is a pain to handle. It's got to be in town tonight before the next rain triples its weight!” “He's with me today.” He scowled at Harvest. “I need these steel beams for the weirs lifted into place properly. There's insufficient workspace for two lifters and he's worth three. He's also got large hooves. And reach. That means much less damage to the side walls and that in turn means prolonged structural integrity!” “Would you...,” the green mare tried again. “Whatever. How about you get those two other trailers done instead?” Harvest retorted. “Maybe this year?” he added, voice dripping with sarcasm. Now he was finally getting angry. “I regret to inform you, dearest brother, that I am disinclined to agree to your request. Means no. Besides, Solstice has appropriated half the tools and also Heather Bloom. She's our best mechanic.” “So now it's my fault or what?!” Solstice snapped. “No fair!” “STOP IT!”, mother demanded, making the three stallions flinch. “Salt Marsh is with me.” He blinked. “Beg your pardon?” Harvest frowned. “Say what?” Solstice just looked bewildered. Huh?” She cleared her throat and continued in a much gentler voice. “I know all of you three have very important things to do. But my project is giving Brenda a great day. I can't postpone that, no?” She gave a sly little smile. “I may have complained about not having enough variety to offer to our marked one today. Salt happened to be around and heard it. He was off before I could remind him that he might want to check if he had any other duties.” There was little pause. “My apologies.” “Mother! You could have told us,” he protested to sounds of agreement from the two others. “Well, you weren't around. As luck would have it, Brenda was bored and was sitting in the lobby when he got back... no need to have the poor thing be confronted with all of us at the same time.” She smiled warmly. “Such a nice fellow. He's been helping me with the baking since. The bread's going to be a real treat today, he's a natural.” Harvest stared at her. “Baking?” “Can't a stallion do that?” She cocked her head, looking smug. “It would certainly set him apart. Can't have too much variety of skills, can we?” She gave a lopsided smile. “Ever notice how well that brownish blue of his goes with smoky yellow? Peat smoke, I mean.” “Mum!” Solstice groaned. “You can't honestly - she's a total stranger who just cheated death! I was there! I've got nightmares from it! Bet she has too!” “Well, some nice, life-confirming company would do her good then,” she retorted. He dragged a hoof down his muzzle and held out his forelegs in a gesture of helplessness. “Mother, please. Could we concentrate on the matter at hand again?” “Alright, alright.” She sighed. “Salt's still staying here with me though. Bread's going to be all the better for it.” Harvest raised his voice over his to protesting brothers. “All well and good, mother. Salt can spend the rest of the day counting dandelions for all I care. I need Highground. Any suggestions on how to break that to Moor?” “He stared at Harvest, incredulous. “What?!” Mother put a hoof to her chin, completely ignoring him it seemed. “Now, Solstice really needs Salt because his work needs to be done today, preferably now. I can see that.” She sighed. “You need Highground and it's also urgent.” She paused for a moment before addressing him. “Moorland, is something bad going to happen if you delay your work a bit?” She turned around and called out to Salt without waiting for a reply. He wanted to protest. He really did. He looked at mother's sweet, friendly and piercing gaze. He hung his head. “No mother, I guess we can reconstruct the ditches if they fill up,” he conceded. She walked over and nuzzled him. “Don't be sad. You have the opportunity to catch Dawn now. Maybe the two of you can find out what went wrong? I think he went up into his room to talk to Brenda.” She smiled. He sighed. “Might as well. Or are you afraid I might interrupt something?” he inquired with an irritated scowl. “Or wishing it?” “No.” She grinned at him before craning her neck at the sound of hoofsteps. “There you are Salt. I'm afraid you have to go with Solstice. I'll make a baker out of you some other day. And don't think I'll forget, you've got what it takes!” Much to his surprise, the blue stallion nodded with a smile. “Happy to! I'll be looking forward to it. Tell Dawn to plan for it, will you?” She gave Salt a warm smile. “I will. Now off you go, the lot of you. I've still got work to do after all.” Solstice was already chatting away when the two turned to leave.”Hey, if you're going to be organizing food with mum... I could do with some eggs. Haven't had those in ages. Think you can do that? I mean if you now actually get time for it?” Salt replied in a contemplative tone. “I'll see what I can do. They're really difficult to get this time of the year though. Hm. Eggs on bread?” Solstice sounded thrilled. “You got it! Yeah, you stay with mum!” They trotted off. “Now what kind of greens...” he could just make out before the two were out of earshot. For a few minutes he just stood there on the main street, wondering what happened. Finally he shrugged, turned around and went back to the Royal Hotel in a slow trot. The lobby was empty of ponies and full of food. He shook his head. In his opinion, this was taking the 'Royal' in Royal Hotel a bit too far. Arguing with mother would be pointless though. He just hoped that the new addition to their household would know to appreciate it. He could hear the soft sound of friendly laughter from the first floor. Very much unbidden, the memory of mother's lopsided smile came to his mind. He rolled his eyes, sighed and called out, “Dawn?” It took a few seconds before his youngest brother answered in a far too disappointed tone. “Moor? What is it?” “Could you please join me down here? Apparently we have a roster conflict.” When an immediate response failed to materialize he added, “Your usual diligence appears to have suffered under recent events.” He smiled a little at the long pause that followed. “I messed up the scheduling?” “You could say that, dear brother.”