//------------------------------// // Chapter Four // Story: Aperitif/Digestif // by Mr Merritt //------------------------------// Rarity happily discussed the newest fashion trends with some of the elite guests while Fancy Pants went about asking one and all about the past employees of Apretif/Digestif. Despite enjoying herself immensely hob-nobbing with the high-class ponies, Rarity found her attention diverted. She had assumed that Peppermill had gone wandering in among the ponies himself for whatever reason, but she had not seen him in quite a while. Normally the unicorn would have been fine with this, having faith in the colt’s maturity (a far cry from her own little sister, who while she loved fiercely but tended to fret over often). But the rather…pointed request from Applejack came ringing in her mind: ifin so much as a hair on his head is messed up I won’t evah fergive you Rarity The mare doubted her farmer friend would resort to something as crude as physical retaliation, but the thought of losing a good friend was motivation enough. Politely excusing herself with a claim of being peckish (not necessarily a lie), she made her way to where she thought Peppermill might be. But as she approached the buffet table there was no sign of the grey colt. For the first time since she had arrived in Canterlot, she felt a sudden tremor of worry. It abated when she next spotted the approach of the handsome Fancy Pants towards her. “Ah, enjoying the catering are we?” he announced. “Well, I wish I could. Please Fancy Pants, have you seen Peppermill around?” “You mean, he isn’t with you?” That tremor of worry now turned into a full-fledged quake of distress as the unicorn mare began to look around frantically. “Dear Celestia! Applejack will hate me if he gets hurt or worse…” moaned Rarity. As she fretted, the stallion frowned. A realization dawned on him, and he comforted the distraught mare. “I don’t think you need worry my dear. I have a feeling I know where he might have gone. I just hope he doesn’t get the wrong idea of what he may or may not see…” With that cryptic comment the stallion led the mare out of the building and onto the streets of Canterlot. *** As the day drew into late afternoon, many ponies began to pass through the square where one of the premier restaurants in the city once stood. While most were far more focused on their various destinations a small number took note of the young colt who sat on one of the benches near one of the many flowerbeds sitting in the space. Of that number, few recognized that what may have appeared to be simple calmness on the surface hid a boiling anger just wanting to be let loose… Peppermill had been seething since he had stumbled on what had once been his home. The severe lack of any sign of his previous address ate away at him. His pride at knowing his parents and their legacy had seemingly went up in smoke at the same time as the building itself wounded the colt’s soul. But it was the sense of betrayal he felt from those same elites that would have given their forelegs to have the chance to dine at Apretif/Digestif that burned white hot in his heart. The temptation to tear the park apart with his bare hooves was more than Peppermill could stand. The only other time in his young life had he felt this kind of rage was when his older brother had admitted his guilt in the destruction of the restaurant, his parents, and his life. But there it was, wanting escape in as physical of a way possible. If it were not for the knowledge that he would never forgive himself or receive any forgiveness from his friends and loved ones should he let loose, there would have been some newsworthy mayhem going on. As such, it was all the grey colt could do to sit on the bench and keep his jaw set as the mares and stallions continued to file by without so much as a glance or a comment. He was just about ready to leap off and storm away when he suddenly had…something shoved under his nose. The scent of toasted bread and tomatoes broke through the fog of anger and (for the first time in a few hours) he realized he was famished. “Ya better eat something kid. Ya look like you’d fly off in a stiff breeze, nowatimean? One of Hotplate‘s specials will fix ya up!” Peppermill jumped in surprise at the rough, yet friendly voice and followed the strong foreleg holding the morsel to a burly stallion the color of a cast iron skillet and grey eyes. He wore a wide grin and a paper hat over a light purple mane styled into a buzz cut. “If youse is worried about it being too hot, don’t be. I don’t use the hot stuff unless asked.” Peppermill could not quite place the accent, but he suspected that this pony wasn’t local. But while he couldn’t place the pony, there was no mistaking the item before him: a vegetarian sausage in a whole wheat bun covered in what looked like salsa rather than ketchup. The sight and scent caused the colt’s mouth to water and a growl from his empty stomach. Peppermill almost bit into the delight, until a thought crossed his mind. “I’m sorry…sir but I…don’t have any…bits on me at…the moment. I left…them in…my room.” admitted Peppermill sombrely. “Ah fergitaboudit…” waved the stallion. “It’s on the house.” Unburdened by this, the colt took a sizable bite of the sausage. … … … “Oh…wow…” The grey colt sighed happily as he savoured the texture of the sausage and the freshness of the salsa. There was no doubt in his mind that these were hoof-made and not pre-packaged, and he told the stallion as much. “Ya better believe it kid! Them factories never get the spices right Nuttin’ like hoof-made to get all the right flavours. Might take longer to make…an’ I kinda have to jack up the price a bit…but I think they’re worth it.” The stallion explained as he continued to set up the cart he had somehow managed to wheel into the square without Peppermill noticing. “I suppose…you get…a lot of…customers Mr. Hortplate. There seems…to be a…lot of ponies…going by.” said Peppermill around another mouthful of flavour. “Eh, I get by. A lot better than some of my pals did ‘round here.” “Hmm?” questioned the colt, puzzled by this statement. “Corners and spaces like this are prime for guys like me living from day to day. There a lot of competition, nowatimean? At first I never stood a chance, since I had to spend time makin’ all my stuff see? There have been lots of guys here before me, but fer some reason they never caught on.” explained the stallion. “Seemed nopony wanted anything to do wit their cheap stuff. Then there were all dem stories…” “Stories?” “Funny stuff…like their stuff burnin’ or gusts o’ wind knocking their carts over. One guy, he claimed his whole wagon just fell apart. Things like that…” Hotplate peered into a few of his condiment containers, satisfied there was plenty to offer. Peppermill mulled over the stallion’s story, internally debating whether or not he could get away with asking for another sausage. Before he could make a choice, he heard a familiar voice call out angrily. “Peppermill, where have you been?!?” The colt was grateful he had swallowed the last bite of his treat, because he probably would have spit it out at the sound of the irate Rarity advancing on him. He shifted his gaze to the mare, an apology on his lips, then froze. His expression changed to one of anger at the sight of the large unicorn stallion accompanying the mare. Before anypony could react, the colt bounded off the bench and stormed over to Fancy Pants. “You! You…are a liar! And…a hypocrite!” barked the colt, his raspy voice cracking with emotion. The unicorn stallion staggered back as if struck, Rarity’s mouth dropped open in shock and Hotplate wisely put his cart in-between himself and the commotion before him. “I know it seems bad son, but…” began fancy Pants. But his protests were cut off by a shake of Peppermill’s head. “Don’t ‘son’ me! Everypony always…talks about how…great my parents…were. But does anypony…remember? Does any…pony care? It’s like…the restaurant…didn’t even…exist!” Peppermill reared up and spread his forelegs wide, motioning to the space the ponies occupied. “Darling, this isn’t the time or the place…” murmured Rarity, looking around, worried about potentially prying eyes. “This is…the perfect place!” snapped Peppermill, now in a full-on rage. “It’s not like…anypony knows…what used to…stand here…” “Aprefit/Digestif. It was one of the hottest places in town, nowatimean?” This comment, spoken before he knew what he was doing, came from Hotplate. It caused three pairs of eyes to turn on him, much to his dismay. Geeze, an’ here I thought it wuz gonna be a dull day… “You…know?” managed Peppermill. “Are youse kiddin’? Everybuddy knew about this place. Anypony wantin’ to get into the food racket knew about that place. And the two that ran the place, those were some real high-class folks. Er, not that youse aren’t high-class Mr. Fancy Pants sir…” “So, you are saying you knew about the restaurant and the ponies that ran it?” questioned Rarity quickly, grasping at what appeared to be a way to diffuse the situation. “Heck yeah…er, I mean sure I did.” exclaimed Hotplate. “I even got to meet the guy who ran the place. Real upstanding’ pony. In fact, if it weren’t fer him, who knows what I wudda done wit myself…” “…really?” managed Peppermill in a small voice. “It wuz him that told me to keep makin’ my stuff from scratch. Told me that when food came from da heart it wouldn’t matter how much it cost.” Those words, heard many times before, seemed to pull the plug on all the anger the grey colt had been building up. He seemed to deflate before the older pony’s eyes, and he cast he eyes downward… … … … …then blinked, followed by his eyes growing wide as saucers. There, at his hooves, was the brickwork that made up the central part of the open space. And there, in different coloured stones than the rest, were two large letters: an “A” and a “D”. Peppermill looked up at Fancy Pants, jaw slack. The unicorn stallion smiled as he gazed down at the stonework. “Believe me son, I wanted to arrange something spectacular. There wasn’t a pony I knew that wouldn’t have supported me 100% on a monument of epic proportions. I even had permission from Princess Celestia and Luna themselves. But I knew deep in my heart, as I suspect you do as well, that your parents would never have agreed to it. Peperoncini and Crème Brule were two of the most humble ponies I have ever met. The day I told them of what I had planned they gave me a verbal bashing I have never received in my life, and I’ve been on the wrong end of quite a few tirades…” “Darling?” Rarity had reached over and took the colt into her slender forelegs, holding him tightly. While she may have not expected him to lash out any more, she still felt the colt needed consoling. While all this was going on, Hotplate could only look on in puzzlement at the events unfolding. “Something simple, that was what your parents insisted on. Your parents, being owners of a restaurant, knew there was always that possibility that something could happen to the building. It’s something they call ‘insurance’, something I am sure Miss Applejack will gladly teach you about. Your father may not have been much for legacies, but he knew that if the building were to go, something had to be put in its place. This was what they wanted…” Fancy Pants leaned in, and met the colt’s gaze with another warm smile. “The stonework was Fleur de Lis’ idea” “Hey, hold up a second!” piped up Hotplate, approaching the group and peering at Peppermill. “Yer related to Mr. Peperoncini, ain’t ya?” “This is Peppermill, the youngest son of the former restaurateurs.” explained Rarity. “No foolin’? Geeze, I remember reading’ about you in da paper kid. Everybuddy wuz worried when they couldn’t find youse after da fire. You look jus like yer old man, nowatimean?” “Yes…I know…what you…mean.” Peppermill hadn’t intended on his reply to be considered funny, but apparently it seemed to have that unintended effect. Hotplate threw back his head and laughed, which eventually led to a chain reaction of deep chuckles from Fancy Pants, giggles from Rarity and raspy laughs out of the colt. With the tension removed, the ponies went silent to gather their respective thoughts. “Lissen kid,” announced Hotplate “I know it probably don’t mean much now, but yer old man wuz a great guy. I know a lot of my pals wudda had no problem in a big fancy statue or whateva here. But think abouddit, a place like this means saps like me can make a few bit’s an’ do stuff they like…” “Like…sell sausages…from a cart?” “Well, dat too…” Hotplate then looked around for a moment, held Rarity’s surprised gaze for a moment, then murmured. “An’ some of da scenery ain’t dat hard to look at, nowatimean?” “It is rather…invigorating, isn’t it?” chuckled Fancy Pants, motioning with a hoof behind a slightly blushing Rarity. The ponies turned to find Fleur de Lis hurrying to them breathlessly. Hotplate’s jaw dropped, and Peppermill snickered as he quickly pushed it back into place just as the graceful mare arrived, a look of relief on her fine features. “When some of the guests mentioned you two had left, I was concerned.” she explained to Fancy Pants and Rarity. “When I learned Peppermill was gone too, I had a feeling this might be a good place to look.” “I’m sorry…if I made…you worry…Miss de Lis. I just…had to see…what was left…of my old home.” apologized Peppermill. “Everything seems to have turned out fine. Would I assume you have some good news, my dear?” questioned Fancy Pants. “Indeed. How do you say it? I have bad news and good news. It seems most of the former employees have gone to other cities to work. But I was able to learn of a stallion named Cedar Plank who is still in Canterlot.” “Chef…Cedar? Where…does he…work?” exclaimed Peppermill. Before he could receive an answer, a tantalizing scent wafted to the group. Fancy Pants, Rarity and Fleur all lifted their heads and inhaled the aroma and all of them looking rather hungry. “I dare say, that does smell rather good, doesn’t it?” admitted Fancy Pants. “You know, in all the excitement I never did have a chance to look at the refreshment table…” admitted Rarity. “Nor did I” agreed Fleur. “Then you…had all…better take advantage…of the situation.” remarked Peppermill. He shrugged out of Rarity’s grasp and led the older ponies to Hotplate’s cart. The dark coloured stallion had begun to prepare some of his sausages, an anxious look on his face. As Peppermill closed in, he murmured to the colt. “I kinda figured this could be a good time to take a chance, nowatimean? Do you know how my pals would react if they knew I got Fancy Pants himself to try one of my sausages?” “Don’t forget…Fleur de Lis and Rarity.” intoned the colt. “I dunno kid. I mean, those are some high-class dames you pal around wit. I dunno if this is the kinda stuff they’d be interested in, nowatimean?” “What are these lovely looking tidbits you have here monsieur?” This question came from Fleur, who gazed at the food with interest. “Hoof made…vegetarian sausages…with hoof made…condiments.” explained Peppermill. “They…are very good.” “Well, I don’t think you could get any better of an endorsement than that Mr. Hotplate.” smiled Rarity, batting her eyes for emphasis. “Would you be so kind as to allow us to sample your delicacies?” “Three Hotplate’s Specials commin’ up!” exclaimed the stallion happily. *** Peppermill and Rarity finally made their way back to their suite at the castle, tired but well fed. “It might not have been haute cuisine, but those sausages were simply divine.” sighed Rarity as she used her magic to close the door behind them. “Did you…see Mr. Hotplate’s…face when…Fancy Pants gave…him all those bits? Not to…mention when you…and Miss de Lis…gave him those…kisses?” “Well, he did look after you in a fashion. Though I am still disappointed in you, Peppermill. You really shouldn’t have gone off by yourself, even if you do know the city better than I.” The mare gazed at the colt, who bowed his head in apology. The unicorn gave a sigh and a smile. “Are you sure you are ok darling, about everything?” “…yeah. I guess…I am. It’s funny…” admitted Peppermill. “…I was…more happy to hear…Hotplate talk…about how my Dad…helped him than…knowing about…the stones or…the little park itself.” “Your parents sounded like wonderful ponies. You have every right to be proud of them darling. I can’t honestly think of any others, with maybe the exception of Fancy Pants, that would devote that much energy and time to others. I think that is far more important than a few plaques or statues, don’t you?” “Yes…but I still…feel bad about…yelling at…Fancy Pants like I did.” “I’m sure he’ll forgive you darling. And enough of all this feeling sorry, it’s not good for the complexion. What else do you wish to do? I assume you are going to want to find this chef friend of yours…” “Of course. And maybe…Chef Cedar…will know about…how the others…are doing…” “Sounds like a fine idea. But it will have to wait until tomorrow. I am absolutely exhausted.” “Yeah…it’s been a …long day.” Peppermill turned away from Rarity, then looked over his shoulder with a grin. “Nowatimean?”