//------------------------------// // Chapter 26 // Story: The Perilous Romance of Swans // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// Gosling had heard things. He had heard things coming out his mother’s mouth that he never wanted to hear. Some things a colt never wanted to hear his mother say. He sat in stunned silence and as he sat in his chair, trying to recover, his stomach grumbled. He looked over at the clock and saw that it was nearing six o'clock. His stomach let out a pleading gurgle and Gosling thought about dinner. “Ma, we’re going out for dinner—” “Gossy, this is Canterlot, dinner is expensive.” Sleet shook her head. “We can eat here and you can save your money.” “Ma, don’t step on my last nerve,” Gosling said to his mother, raising his voice just enough to let her know that he was serious. “I know a nice little place where a lot of the soldiers eat and I have a tab there that gets deducted from my pay. It’ll be fine, Ma.” “Gossy…” “Yeah?” “I don’t want to be rude, but I’ve always wondered…” “What Ma?” “Gossy, darling, how much do you make in a month? I mean, you were paying the rent and sending me money and I’ve been so curious, but I was afraid to ask, because you know how it can be, you speak of money and the next thing you know a big fight happens—” “Ma, I make good money,” Gosling said in a soft voice. “The signal corps has the highest pay grade but also the toughest application requirements. We also gots the brain drain to deal with. No dumb little horsies in the signal corps.” Sleet nodded. “But Gossy, how were you paying for everything?” “Well, Ma, I’m on active duty and I do an actual job. I get paid for both.” Gosling raised his eyebrow and waited. He had also just been promoted to work with Raven, but he didn’t know about any sort of pay increase just yet. “Yes, but how much?” Sleet asked, turning her gaze away and looking over in the direction of the kitchen. “I’m sorry, Gosling, but I feel guilty… you’ve been sending me a lot of money… so much money… I’m a little a shocked by how much you’ve sent, and I worry all the time that you don’t have any for yourself.” Gosling blinked. He could see the guilt and the pain on his mother’s face. His heart sank. He wanted his mother to be happy and live a better life. She looked hurt, as though her pride had been pricked. He wasn’t sure what to say. “Gosling, I worked two, sometimes three jobs to pay the rent and the bills… and you’re sending enough money to cover everything. I just… I just… Gosling, I just don’t want you going without for my sake. The guilt has been eating me alive. That’s part of the reason I took on a part time job. It wasn’t just because I was bored. I just—” “Ma…” Gosling leaned forwards in his chair and stared into his mother’s blue eyes when she turned to look at him. She was about to cry. His heart felt heavy in his barrel. “Well, I get active duty pay, each of the courses I take ups my pay, and I’ve taken many, right now I’m taking the higher levels of communications and command courses. I have my job as a telegraph operator, well, I did, and I managed a com-hub before I got recruited by Raven. Kinda proud about that, I am.” “Gosling, stop beating around the bush… I need to know. You were sending me twenty two hundred bits a month. With my own part time job, I’ve been able to squirrel away a little savings for a rainy day, if it’s needed.” “I kept a little for myself,” Gosling said. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?” Sleet asked. “Nope.” Gosling felt a twinge of guilt. “So dinner…” Sleet sucked in a deep breath and waggled her ears as her wings fluffed out against her sides. “Is this place nice? What kinda food do they have?” “Oh, they have a little bit of everything,” Gosling replied, “and the best matzah ball soup in Canterlot. They use lots of olive oil and they do something to the broth to make it silky.” “You don’t say.” Sleet blinked and then began nodding her head. “Ma, everypony eats it. They make it by the gallon. Food is a little different here in Canterlot than where we come from. Ponies here care more about food tasting good and less about where or who it comes from. It’s like finding a dozen different ‘hoods in one place.” “Oh, well, that does sound like it might be nice,” Sleet said as she began nodding her head. “Okay, let’s go out. Do they have pizza?” “Yeah, Ma, they do. They make a nice pie.” Gosling gave his mother a grin. “Let’s go, Ma, and I’ll show ya around a bit.” Canterlot had its own style, like any other Equestrian city, but beneath the minarets and spires, below the tiled roofs, hidden away in many nooks and crannies, Canterlot was a sampling of just about everything good in Equestria. Food, drinks, art, clothing, culture, music, theatre, there was a little bit of everything to be found in Canterlot. Hidden behind arched doorways were the many hidden treasures of the city. Manehattan style pizza. The fabulous salad culture of Applewood, home of the movie stars. The martinis of Las Pegasus. The bean dishes of Baltimare. The poutine of Vanhoover. Everything could be found in Canterlot, as ponies from all over Equestria came to work here. The guard were a voracious and vocal bunch. Demands were answered. Sleet and Gosling walked side by side on the sidewalks as wagons and carriages rumbled past on the cobblestones. The city was already getting chilly as day transitioned into night. Autumn was coming for the rest of Equestria, but was already here in Canterlot, at least it felt that way when the velvet shroud of night fell over the city. One thing could be said about the ponies of Canterlot; they were, for the most part, polite when out on the streets. The ponies of Manehattan—not so much. When violations of space happened, and they did happen, it was common to hear, “Oh, pardon me,” or “My apologies,” or something to that effect, rather than the brusque, “Hey, yo, I’m walkin’ ‘ere!” that could heard in Manehattan. For Gosling, it had become normal, but for Sleet, she was mystified by the laid back attitudes of the ponies around her. Gosling found the whole thing amusing, because his mother acted like a tourist. And in Manehattan, tourists were jerks. Manehattanites hated tourists. Yet here she was, walking around, stopping, staring at stuff, blocking the sidewalk, and doing the tourist thing. Der Unter Garten was a peculiar place. It had once been a mushroom farm. It was a vast natural cavern that existed under a series of shops up above. It had natural geothermal steam vents to heat the place and the steam was now used for cooking. It was one of those almost secret places that only the locals knew about and the guard loved to frequent, because let’s face it, when off duty, nopony wanted to deal with tourists. Some things never changed no matter where you lived. Gosling frequented this place often enough, as did every other member of the guard. This place was like a second home. Which made his greeting into this place all the more upsetting when it happened. “Oh look, the princess’ pet pegasus…” Gosling could hear snickering accompanying the words. He could hear his mother gritting her teeth beside him. Almost right away, he began to assess the situation, wondering if it was worth staying. It might be wise to leave. “I hear she keeps him in a little basket by her bed.” Ears perking, Gosling suffered an involuntary pawing of his hoof over the floor. There was a low screech as his hoof scraped over stone. Several heads turned. Ears stood up. Feathers bristled. Horns ignited. There was good natured ribbing and then there was, well, whatever this was. Gosling could feel the tension in the air. He could feel the eyes on him and his mother looked very, very unhappy. Gosling, not one who enjoyed confrontation, decided it was time to go. He turned and as he did so, he gave his mother a nudge. Her body was rigid. “That’s right… get outta here… maybe the princess will put down a nice bowl of food for ya.” “That’s enough, you bucketheads!” a stern voice snapped. A large, burly earth pony kicked his stool away as he stood up. “You chuckleheads will respect all members of the E-U-P or I will be forced to mop the floor with you!” “Sheesh, calm down Sergeant Shamrock—” “I DID NOT ASK FOR YOUR INPUT, PRIVATE SCUM STAIN!” the sergeant shouted in frog voiced fury. “JUST AS I AM CERTAIN YOUR MOTHER DIDN’T ASK FOR YOU TO BE BORN, YOU LIMP NOODLED DISAPPOINTMENT OF MARES AND STALLIONS EVERYWHERE! THE BEST PART OF YOU RAN DOWN YOUR MAMA’S LEG AND CIRCLED THE SHOWER DRAIN... TWICE!” Oh crap, it was time to go! Gosling took a step towards the door and— “Private Gosling, you will not move!” the sergeant commanded. “You are not to leave the castle unattended, what were you thinking, you brain drained pile of beep beep boops!” Cringing, his status as a telegraph operator called into play, Gosling froze. At least the sergeant was no longer frog voiced. He hoped that he was not about to be ripped a new one in front of his mother, and perhaps of more importance, he hoped that his mother would not rip the sergeant a new one. “Madam, if you will pardon me for being so harsh, but correction is necessary with these bucketheads, because they are all brain dead puddles of harpy puke,” the sergeant said to Sleet. “And I would like to thank you for birthing at least one somewhat competent pegasus for this pony’s army!” Turning back around, Sleet stared at the bellicose earth pony with wide, confused eyes. “Um, thank you, I think?” The sergeant raised his hoof in the customary ground pounder salute, as he did not have wings. He turned for a moment to glare at his fellow guards before they had a chance to start snickering again. “The barracks are going to be so alicorn damned spotless that Princess Celestia herself will be proud to eat off the alicorn damned floor, you chancre infested ballsacks!” Sergeant Shamrock crossed the room in a stomping march. “Private Gosling, perhaps you haven’t gotten the memo, but you are no longer allowed to leave the palace without escort! I don’t know who let you slip through the gate, but when I find them, they are going to regret that their mama spread their legs and invited disaster to come inside!” Sleet’s face turned a bright pink and she stood there, stupefied. As for Gosling himself, he went rigid and stood at attention, as that was what one did when a sergeant addressed them. He stared straight ahead and did not even glance at the enormous green earth pony stallion that now towered over him and his mother. “Ma’am, do you know how few competent ponies I have the privilege to work with?” Sergeant Shamrock asked Sleet in a low, but gritty sounding voice. “I met Private Gosling in prep camp. I liked Gosling. I told him he could come over to my house and bang my sister. I liked him a lot. But then the brass came and took him away so he could join the beep beep boop brigade because Private Gosling has the incurable condition of having a brain and we can’t have those in the common rank and file. The buckets must remain empty.” “Oooh…” Sleet gasped as she shuffled on her hooves. “Private Gosling, I am not certain what to do with the two of you,” Sergeant Shamrock said as he loomed large over the two ponies. “I suppose I am going to have to escort you back to the castle myself. It will give me a chance to tear into the skid mark on a princess’ ass responsible for this little slip up.” “Sir, thank you, Sergeant, Sir.” Gosling remained statuesque. “Private Gosling, you have a very pretty mother. You are a lucky bastard.” Gulping, Gosling dared to move his eyes and he looked up at Sergeant Shamrock. “Sir, touch so much as one feather on my mother or say even one thing out of place to her, and I will unscrew your head and let those bucketheads you abuse every day take turns with your neckhole, Sir.” “And this is why I like Private Gosling,” Sergeant Shamrock said as Sleet recoiled from what her son had said. A big grin split the sergeant's face. “At ease, Private Gosling, as I respect your mother.” The big earth pony’s head turned and glared at the guards gathered around the long table where he had been sitting. “If only every mother had birthed such fine colts.” Gosling glanced over at the table and saw many angry scowls. He didn’t like what he was seeing. He felt his muscles go tense and he very much wanted to be out of this place. “Madam, if you will do me the honour and privilege of walking with me, I shall now escort you back to the castle,” Sergeant Shamrock said to sleet. “I assure you, I will be on my best behaviour.” Head turning, Gosling looked up at the big earth pony. The sergeant was smiling a good natured smile. Gosling wasn’t certain what to make of it. He worried that he might just have to unscrew the sergeant’s head on general principle. But that would happen later, away from this angry looking lot. “Private Gosling, if you will lead the way,” Sergeant Shamrock barked. Turning to face the door, Gosling did as he was commanded.