Morning called for a small breakfast of canned rations for Mica and a full battery recharge for myself. Of course, the contents of the can and the powerful amulet at my disposal reduced the time for our ‘breakfast’ to nothing more than about two minutes.
“Hey, Relic.” Mica said as she dug into her brownish-grey meal.
“Yes, Mica?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever asked a synth this, but do any of you robot thingies eat?” She said, smacking her lips. I considered the question for several moments. “I don’t think I’ve seen you eat yet.”
“My model, the FF-7, has never had the ability to consume food. I’ve heard that FF-3’s sometimes came with experimental steam combustion engines that could simulate a stomach. But I believe that they were so useless in obtaining energy that the resulting mush could be eaten all over again and still provide the exact same amount of energy. So no, I do not believe any synths can eat. FF-3’s could eat somewhat, but Flim-Flam Tech scrapped the idea when they built the FF-4. It was too costly and inefficient.”
“Aw,” Mica huffed, finishing her meal. “So you’ve never had a cupcake? I mean, since you’re a 7.”
“A cup-cake? What is a cup-cake?”
Mica gasped, her eyes going wide and her hooves clutching her ears in panic. She pulled herself clumsily to her hooves, tossing the empty mush can aside. It was quite obvious that she was horrified by this new information.
“First you don’t know what a balloon is, and now you don’t know what a cupcake is?!”
I felt annoyed already by this clearly over-exaggerated display. But I recalled what Rainbow Dash had told me the night prior about forging a friendship with Mica. So I smiled at Mica; instead of rolling my eyes and walking away. Which I very much felt like doing.
“Then miss, excuse my, er… Ignorance. You will have to tell me what they are. Perhaps when we get to your home, you could even show me one of these ‘cupcakes’.”
“Okie dokie lokie!” Mica laughed, helping me up. “Cupcakes are only the greatest thing ever! They’re like cakes, but super-duper small and cute! They can be all of these amazing flavors and colors and-”
We continued on our way, her babbling on about her favorite pastries. Apparently the Pie family had had a long history as bakers. Which would help make sense out of Mica’s behavior, since anypony raised on a diet of sugar and dairy products would obviously be trapped with the mind of a foal.
But it helped, getting to know Mica on a personal level. From what I could gather through her blabbering, her parent had died from some accident, leaving her to the care of her grandmother. She took up an apprenticeship as a baker, but never truly succeeded in making plain foods like bread. Apparently, she had accidentally contributed to the fall of the Pie family bakery, since her penchant for creating pastries severely depleted their source of sugar. Now, according to Mica, her grandmother only brewed alcohol; using yeast and grains left over from their baking.
Eventually, we reached the edge of the Ruins. It was surprising to see the actual ground. The Ruins were, in fact, simply a very large pile of rocks and rubble situated on the side of a mountain. The brown dirt that actually made up the ground contrasted greatly with the grey stone that I had walked on for the majority of my existence. Another thing was the sharp change in angle. My life had always been crooked; on this same mountain. To walk on a flat surface, to walk on dirt rather than pebbles… It was going to be a big transition for me. Mica continued walking, prancing along into the flat dirt. I stood at the edge of the Ruins, looking down at the dirt.
“Relic!” Mica called, already several yards away. “Arntcha comin’?”
She bounced back, and smiled at me.
“Let’s go already! We’re already halfway there!”
“This is the first time I’ve set hoof off the Ruins,” I admitted, “Just… give me a moment. It may take some adjustment.”
I clasped my mouth shut and sent one last glance over my shoulder. From the bottom of the mountain, I could see tall monolithic piles of rock towering around the very distant Runeton; it was barely a speck among the ancient stones. With a nod of my head, I took a cautious step onto the ground. The actual ground, not just remnants of some walled city.
I kicked at the dirt, feeling small grains of the stuff on my hooves. It was pleasant. I did not have to constantly adjust my balance nor did I have to worry about shifting stones. Mica smiled at and I smiled back, genuinely this time. It was exciting. This was the point where I could actually feel the adventure; going off into the unknown without a care in the world.
“Ready to go now?”
Well… Maybe I cared, just a little bit.
“Yes.”
And so we walked. Across the dusty plain, the source of all the dust storms that had long plagued the ponies of the Ruins. And, of course, the force that indirectly led to
“You might want to watch out around these parts.” Mica said after a few hours of walking.
I didn’t understand what was so different about ‘these parts’. The area was the same, although there were now considerably more hills than before; not to mention the trail that had been trodden on earlier by frightened ponies running from a pack of Manticores, and laid down by years of travelling caravans. I could still see hoofprints in the dust, as well as the occasional pool of blood left over from the attack.
“Why’s that? Are there more Manticores?”
“No no, Manticores only live in the Everfree, over by Sweet Apple Acres. You just don’t wanna accidentally step on a Carcolh tentacle. They’re EVERYWHERE here.”
I looked under my left hoof instinctively. Then immediately grimaced. Yet I had learned my lesson last time when Mica had warned me about the bore beetles (of which I had also stomped several of over the course of several hours), and this time I did not shrug it off as a prank. I immediately grew more alert, scanning the ground for any sign of possibly malignant life.
“What is a Carcolh? Is it like those beetles?”
“Kinda, it’s a bug. It’s kinda like a snail… But bigger. Much bigger. And with slimy tentacles that’ll grab you and never let go. Not until you’ve been gobbled up. And they’ll eat anything. Even each other! Here… Lemme go find one so I can show ya. They’re only dangerous if you step on their wigglies.”
Mica looked away from me, continuing on her way, although less carelessly as before. If this was a prank, it was a fairly well executed one. But I refused to let my guard down once more. I followed her example, walking as carefully as my servos and motors would allow me. Again, one of the cons of being synthetic. I could sneak, but I couldn’t be as silent as Mica currently was. She suddenly stopped moving and I did as well, over a yard away from her. She looked straight at me with fearful eyes and gestured for me to come closer.
I made my way over, looking down at what she was so scared of.
There, on the ground, was a rope.
Or at least I assumed it was a rope. However, this rope was solid, not like it was braided. But it was almost the same color at the dirt. A little bit lighter, but the contrast was just enough to make it visible. I was about to point out the foolishness of Mica’s worrying when I realized that the rope was throbbing. Pulsating every so often, like it was having a hard time sitting so still.
“Watch this.” She whispered, pulling one of those rubber balloons out from her mane.
I watched as she plopped it gently onto the long tentacle. In a split second, the long appendage whipped up into the sky, wrapping tightly around the deflated balloon. I admit that I was terrified by the sheer length of the tentacle. It had to be a dozen yards in length, if not longer. After it had gotten a grip on the slick balloon, the tentacle retracted into a small hole not too far away. I looked to Mica, who nodded. Together, we approached the hole, wide enough for three ponies to fall into. We stood right at the edge, making sure to avoid the many tentacles still radiating away from the crevice in the dirt. I peered over the edge and saw nothing but black. I switched on the lights in my visor and gasped as I saw what was quite possibly the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen.
It was obviously blind, to start with. There were no visible eyes and the monster didn’t seem to react to the light shining in its face. If you could call that a face. It had about six tentacles branching off of its head, with a single gaping maw in the center. The mouth held an innumerable amount of tiny, needle-like teeth that immediately began to tear at the rubbery balloon. The monster’s body itself was large, twice the size of any pony, and was a bright brownish-orange. Upon its back was a massive shell as big as the body itself, which was covered in spikes that appeared to anchor the beast into the ground.
The Carcolh was far more terrifying than the Manticores, and from what Mica had said, it was far more dangerous. Lightning-fast tentacles and the ability to eat anything? At least a Manticore couldn’t devour a metal synthetic.
We tiptoed away from the creature and got as far away from the beast as possible. It wasn’t for some time after that that I spoke.
“How many creatures like that exist out here?” I asked. First Manticores that ate ponies whole, then ferrovorous beetles that left me partially crippled, and now a giant tendriled beast that could snap me up should I take the wrong step. “Or rather, how many could destroy me?”
“I dunno.” Mica said with a shrug. “I thought I’ve told you already that I haven’t ever really gone out exploring. It’s just too dangerous. I know about Carcolhes, Manticores, bore beetles, vultures, and gnats. But that’s it.”
“Are you positive?”
“Prrretty sure this time. But that's only around Sweet Apple. I dunno if there’s any other ghostie goos hanging out around here. But I’m sure they’re everywhere out there! And then there’s also robbers and ponies who kidnap others and make them slaves! And then there’s rogue synths that go around mauling everypony and anypony who gets too close.”
“Terrific.” I muttered, mulling over this. I couldn’t rely on Mica to guide me along after passing through Sweet Apple. I would probably have to hire somepony else to help me along. But of course, that would require bits. Which I had absolutely none of.
“Are there any weapon shops at the Acres, Mica?” I asked.
“Well, Granny has a few crossbows. Why?”
I pointed at the taser on my chest.
“This is no weapon. Maybe a defense as a last resort, but it would be ineffective against one of those Carcorals.”
“Carcolhes.”
“Thank you. But I do not think I would be able to fend off anything larger than a pony. I’ll need something to fight with.”
Mica thought for a moment.
“You could prolly buy one of the crossbows from Granny. But I thought you didn’t have any money.”
“I don’t.”
“Well… Maybe she’ll give you one! Or you could do a few chores for her! She’s a really nice old mare, she’d be happy to help anypony in need.” She then leapt up, pointing into the distance. I looked as well, and saw a very distant green hill. The only vibrant green hill among the dull brown ocean surrounding it. “Oh! Oh! There it is! Sweet Apple Acres!”
There on the top of the hill was a brilliant red building. Not like those little huts in the shantytown that made up Runeton. It was sound, and tall. I imagined it had to have several floors; and it took up most of what I saw of Sweet Apple. Around it, there were several cabins, built from felled logs. And then trees. Trees! I had only seen the naked scraggly branches of the dead Ruin flora for decades. These trees were green and waving gently in the cool breeze, as if welcoming us. But of course, the illusionary oasis that I had seen from a distance became more gruesome as we approached.
I saw the dead.
Ponies littering the ground, their corpses already setting into many varying levels of decay. There were stallions holding busted laser rifles and mares hunched over foals. All of them had gaping wounds gouged in their sides and necks. Like the Manticores that had caused the attack had simply abandoned their meals. Or rather, they had simply been killing for sport. It was odd, imagining anything besides a pony or rare griffon having the mental capacity to hunt just for fun. To have any sort of concept of entertainment. Even I, an artificial creation, who shouldn’t even associate myself with ponies, felt a tug at my innards when I saw the dead foals in their mothers’ embraces.
It would be a miracle if Granny Pie was alive.
We trotted into the thick grass of the Acres. Some of the green and yellow was stained scarlet. Some of the puddles had congealed, leaving ugly black splotches on what should have been a beautiful landscape. All was silent, matching that dour tone of the air.
Then I heard the hoarse screaming.
“YA BETTER LEARN TA BUCKIN’ USE A RUDDY SHOVEL IF YA WANNA GET RID O’ THEM THERE REEKIN’ PILES O’ SHIT OUTSIDE!” A gravelly mare’s voice shrieked from inside the red barn. Mica immediately perked up, turning her attention away from the exposed dead.
“Granny’s okay!” Mica cheered, dashing over towards the vast red doors. I stood back as she threw open the door and ran inside. My eyes widened in horror as I realized that the screaming mare inside was indeed Mica’s grandmother.
I followed behind Mica. I reached the large doors, which I was surprised to find were made of wood. The entire building was made from the same material as the cabins, but painted to appear like a beacon.
“Relic? Relic! C’mon in! Granny wants to meet you!” Mica called.
I slowly opened the door and stepped inside. But I was immediately blown away once more, forgetting the rotting bodies just a few steps away. The entire building was hollow, except for a giant loft reaching down from the ceiling. There were candles everywhere, as well as books and spare parts. Litter was strewn about, left in piles below the many tables lining the walls. Rusted farm equipment and primitive weaponry sat in the center, tended to by several ponies. There were about fourteen in all. Some were walking with a limp, others were visibly bleeding.
And one, a graying old mare with a thinning out mane, was hugging Mica tightly, speaking loud enough that everypony for a half mile radius could hear her.
“CLOSE THE DAMNED DOOR, I COULD GET PNEUMONIA. YA WANT THAT, YA FAT LARDS?”
I complied, worried that the zombie-like mare would lunge for me and start shrieking even louder. She reminded me an awful lot of the banshee, a horrifyingly loud ghost that I had heard about in traveller’s tales.
“Mica! By Celestia’s mighty white arse, I thought ya were dead! And who’s this Relic? A coltfriend? I told ya, missy! ‘Don’ be silly, wrap his willy!’” The mare hollered, sweeping her head about the room. The mare’s eyes were clouded over; she was obviously blind.
“Granny!” Mica giggled. “That isn’t who Relic is! Relic doesn’t even have a willy!”
I was greatly confused. Who was Willy and why was everypony talking about him?
“Wha?” Granny Pie’s unseeing eyes bugged out. “Are ya a damned fillyfooler?”
“No! Relic’s a synth!”
Granny Pie went quiet. Everypony, and I mean everypony, in the barn looked at the elder with concern. It was very apparent that Granny Pie was never quiet for longer than a few seconds. They were possibly looking to see if she had died mid-conversation.
“RELIC!” Granny Pie shouted, making me jump and the other ponies groan in disappointment. “GET YER METAL ARSE OVER ‘ERE!”
I slowly made my way over. As soon as I got close enough that she could hear my servos and motors whirring away, she reached out her cracked hooves and felt my exterior. I stood still, allowing her to feel my face and sides.
“Thank ya fer bringin’ me girlie home, Mr. Relic.” She said, her voice suddenly transitioning into something calmer and more sweet.
“You’re welcome, madam.”
“Please,” the blind mare scoffed, “call me Granite. I’m only madam to the damned fuckers who don’t know how to bury some damned bodies. They can fix up a three-thousand year old tractor but they ain’t gonna touch a shovel.”
She finished patting me down and sat back, satisfied.
“They’re repair ponies?” I asked, gesturing towards the other inhabitants of the building. I then realized my error. “The… Ones standing with those machines?”
“Aye. Ruddy good ones, too. But they can’t use a shovel, can’t use a hoe, can’t use a basket even. Only reason those ruddy bastards are alive is ‘cause they’re our engineers. All the farmers were outside workin’, they were inside with me. Them beasties outside munched up everypony outside but didn’t set hoof in the barn. Prolly knew I’d tear ‘em a new arse.”
I suppressed the humorous image of Granite Pie battling off a horde of Manticores.
“Now.” Granite said, a bit more serious this time. “Tell me about what happened in Runeton. All I know is Regent, the village leader, decided it was a good idea to lead ‘em all up ta tha’ mountain.”
“What?!” I gasped. How could a pony do such a thing?
“Tha’s what I said. Damned fool said there’d be more weapons down there. I told Mica to go up there, too. She’s a smart cookie. Mica would talk some sense into him. But then they ran and me an’ these numbnuts-” she waved over in the general direction of the engineers, who glared back at me “-holed up in ‘ere. Everypony left outside died. Or at least from what I can tell. Them bodies are rottin’ an’ it smells like shit in ‘ere.”
I considered this. Perhaps this was what I could do, I could exchange my labor for a weapon or two and maybe some repairs to my chassis. I proposed my plan to Granite, who nodded. It was agreed that a pegasus mare named First Spark would fix my spine and mount a crossbow in my side. In return, I would bury countless corpses.
“Ya sure? Didn’ think the 7s could handle that much work.”
“I have modifications, Granite. I’m a scavenger.”
“Alrighty then.” Granite croaked. “SPARK! Get yer wee lil’ hide over ‘ere an’ help this gentlecolt, will ya? He’s gotta busted back and some singed circuits.”
A silvery mare trotted over, looking irritable. Her bright blue eyes matched her electric mane. One of her traits that I immediately noticed was her prosthetic wing, a flimsy bat-like wing made with navy cloth. She gave me a quick glance over and shrugged.
“I’ll see what I can do.” She said. “Been awhile since I worked on a synth.”
“Alrighty then. Relic, you go with ‘er an’ then get to buryin’.”
First Spark was not the most gentle pony I’d ever had working on me. She had unceremoniously clipped off the back plates of my armor and immediately dug into my innards, pulling out damaged circuit boards that would momentarily render me blind, deaf, or both. It felt strange, even after having it done so many times before, to have a pony open you up and perform crucial repairs to your body while you were awake. It was mildly disorienting.
She eventually ripped out the melted segment of spine, replacing it with a far fancier version made from titanium. Even those bore beetles would have a rough time eating through that. After replacing my spine, First Spark got to work attaching a special metal crossbow to my side.
It had been modified by the trigger so I would not have to wrap my ankle around it. Instead, it would be attached to my left side, and a basic targeting program applied to my visor. The crossbow itself could fold and flatten up against my shoulder, then swing out and open should I require it. It was a fascinating device, designed by Spark herself. Unfortunately, it would have to be reloaded manually. Not that I minded, it felt good to at least have some sort of weapon. Not just a flimsy taser that would have to charge after each use. First Spark gave me a short crash course on how to aim and fire the device, which I was proficient at.
After my repairs, I was escorted outside to perform my half of the deal.
Burying their dead.
It wasn’t so bad for those few ponies that had been decapitated or mauled in the face. That way, I wouldn’t have to look into their cold, glazed eyes. It was, in a word, nightmarish. Maggots and molds had already began to set in many of them, and the rigor mortis was beginning wear away, leaving the ponies as giant sacks of flesh. Granite had told me that anything of value that I found would be mine to keep, and I did in fact find several objects that I could use.
I found some spare parts, a crudely drawn map of Equestria, some rags, and a bottle of alcohol.
Bits were common. They littered the ground around several merchant ponies who had obviously tried to escape with their fortunes. Their greed now led to my wealth, with what I estimated was about four hundred bits. But the fact that they had chosen to save their money rather than their family evoked something in me. Perhaps it was the influence of the Element of Loyalty tucked safely in my chestplate, but I felt anger at the cowards who ran. I simply dug a giant mass grave where I would put the greedy, the traitors. The others I buried separately. Other than the foals, who I had left in their mothers’ embraces. I figured that that is what the ponies would have wanted, to be left together as a family. I thought back to my own family back at Runeton as I dug the graves with my own hooves.
Lionheart and Garter had probably learned about Money Bag by now. And they probably knew about me leaving as well. Garter would understand why I left. But Lionheart? He may not be so forgiving. The angry stallion himself might follow me, but I doubted it would come to that. He wasn’t the young colt he once was. If he really hated me that much for leaving, he’d simply hire somepony to come after me.
After an hour or so, the job was done. All of them buried at the foot of the hill, stone markers showing the location of families and lone stallions who had clearly fought to protect the others.
The loyal ones.
Back inside the barn, Mica and the engineers had prepared a small dinner for themselves. Granite, however, had beckoned for me from a small room in the back of the building. Inside was a pair of rocking chairs, a table, and the pink amulet that Mica had carried earlier. I decided to place my amulet on the table as well. And when Granite took a seat in a chair, I followed suit.
“So Mica tells me ya got a few questions about yer amulet.”
“Yes, I do, miss.”
“Alrighty. I can give ya a lil’ summary. Now ya see, the Pie family goes wayyyyy back. And ever since my ancestor Pinkamena Diane Pie, we’ve had that.” Granite said, pointing a hoof at the pink gem sparkling on the table. “It’s called an Element of Harmony. Now history says alotta things ‘bout these Elements. There was six in all; Generosity, Honesty, Laughter, Loyalty, Kindness, and Magic. The Pie family got Laughter a long, long time ago. It’s been a family heirloom o’ sorts. With one interestin’ trait.”
She picked up the gem, and to my surprise, color began to return to her mane, a vivid pink color. It thickened out into a consistency like that of a cloud. The old mare smiled at me, hearing my noise of alarm, and nodded her head slowly.
“Whoever held the gem was blessed with infinite happiness and magic. Everypony in the Pie family, even me, had access to this power for a time.”
She put down the gem and once more, her mane fell flat and dead on her head. Then she pointed at my red gem, placed right beside the pink one. How she knew where it was, I was not sure.
“Now tha’s Loyalty, if I’m right. From what you’ve said, Loyalty is a wee bit different than Laughter. The holder will be loyal and all that, yeah. And you’d have magical power. But you’re a synth. Synths can’t use magic, an’ ya only have the emotions that ponies program into ya.”
“There’s also the hallucinations.” I added.
Granite looked confused.
“I’ve been seeing visions of a pony that calls herself ‘Rainbow Dash’. She’s spoken to me twice, but appeared to me about once every other day.” I explained. “You haven’t mentioned any visions, so it may be a synth-restricted symptom.”
“Makes sense,” Granite said.
“And one more question, miss.”
“Yea?”
“Where are the other Elements? Why did I find this Element? Who do they belong to?”
“Ah. I dunno where the others are. Could be anywhere, carried by anypony. As for why you found the element, that’s simple. That element chose you, Relic. It stayed buried and hidden for thousands o’ years. ‘Cause it was waitin’ for YOU.”
I looked down at the red gem. It glimmered in the lamplight, and I could feel the magic radiating off of it, pouring into my battery.
“Who does it belong to? Rightfully, I mean?”
Granite grinned, rocking away in her chair.
“Ya ever ‘eard the story o’ Princess Twilight Sparkle?”