Destiny's Call: The tales of a foreigner in a familiar land

by Zenith Starwalker

Chapter 30: Wild Wedding in the Mild West

“Care to run that by me again?” I politely requested, game plans changing in my head in the blink of an eye to accommodate for this unsettling information.

“Miss Strongheart is pregnant” She repeated, “She’s three weeks in, if the diagnostic spell the town’s crackerjack Doc used is reliable, and I have it on good authority that it is. He’s been here since I was a girl. He makes his rounds, diagnoses maladies, and dispenses remedies that work like charms, so to speak” Her face flushed, “Not that this pregnancy is a malady by any means!”

I let my jaw lower a few centimeters as a product of habit and gyrated it slowly as I absorbed this, deep in thought. I wasn’t quite expecting this bombshell that Miss Cherry Jubilee disclosed to us in the quaint confines of her kitchen, but frankly wasn’t nonplussed by it either, knowing that young lovers can often make poor, passion induced decisions which wind up having long term consequences for both the lovers and the world around them. But why did it have to be this couple, and why now? This news had the potential to result in unwanted ramifications down the line for all of us. No matter, this obstacle can be circumvented somehow. While I was pensive, Applejack was nearing the climax of some kind of internal meltdown. Her breathing rate was in nigh hyperventilating territory, her blood was boiling and lending her an impressively reddish hue, and if this were a cartoon, I imagine that she’d have steam issuing out of her ears presently.

Thinking quickly, my eyes flashed as I reflexively cast a thaumatic field around us in a five meter radius that would insulate the room from undue noise in anticipation for AJ’s emotional explosion. The very red faced Applejack slid back and stood upright. The legs of her chair scraped violently against the floor, like nails on a chalkboard, as she roared at the top of her lungs with a stentorian volume that was only two notches away from The Royal Caps Tone (That is… eardrum burstingly potent), “BRAEBURN! Why that no good, lousy, scum suckin’, rotten Apple! HOW DARE HE FATHER A KID WITHOUT OUR FAMILY’S PERMISSION! AND WITHOUT MARRYIN’ FIRST ON TOP OF IT!? THE SHEER STONES ON HIM!”

‘Fully functional stones, it would seem. Clearly, she is not pleased with this news’ I observed with faint humor, with me thinking up a way to curb her anger while also keeping the noise to a minimum.

Applejack slammed her fists onto the table and glared at Miss Jubilee with fire in her eyes, “Where is he?” She growled low in her throat.

“O-Out in the f-fields to the s-south. M-minding the orchard along with the other h-hands as u-usual” The stunned woman stuttered, not having seen this raging side of Applejack before. A destination in mind, Applejack stood up and rotated in place with a look on her face that I couldn’t trust not to screw things up before we had even started.

I stood up from my seat and intercepted her before she could stomp out of the house and cause a scene, which we did not need if we wanted to maintain the smallest semblance of secrecy, “Applejack, I know you’re angry but think for a second. If you go out there to tear your cousin a new one in front of everybody, how can you expect to keep this secretive affair under wraps? People will talk. It’s a well known fact” I explained this to her carefully and deliberately, incredulous to how this wasn’t apparent to her right off the bat.

“That blasted Apple has gone and planted his seed in the wrong orchard!” She glowered at me, “He didn’t tell our family that he was seein’ anyone until I found out through you, and now I find out that he’s got mah first cousin once removed in Strongheart’s belly? He and I need to have words… serious words, ya hear?” And nothing will dissuade me from doing this, she left hanging in the air, unspoken.

Jubilee poorly picked that moment to offer her input, “It’s not necessarily a guarantee that he’s the father, sugah. The Doc’s noninvasive diagnostic spell doesn’t trace parentage after all” She pointed out in the spirit of helpfulness, though she was only achieving the opposite of that, really.

Even I had to poke holes in what she was suggesting, “You’ve kept them under your watch for a while now. Tell me, Miss Jubilee. Do they act like a couple that’s in love? Do they make starry eyes at each other? Do they sneak glances at each other once in a while that whole plays could be written about? Do they seem as if the better part of themselves would be lost without the other?” I grilled her, with the ulterior motive of also probing how legitimate this relationship between the two was and hearing about it for myself.

“Well I-… You see…” She trailed off, not sure how to respond. We could all of us see how her lack of denials to any of my statements was just as telling as an admission.

Applejack snorted, the Orchard owner’s silence being plenty clarifying for her, “That’s all I needed to hear from ya on the matter. Now move, Zenith” She commanded, attempting to stare me into submission.

I held my ground, “Jacqueline Applejack Apple” I addressed her by her rarely used full name (which was known to me when Annabelle Smith Apple chastised her granddaughter for carelessly tracking chunks of dirt on the porch floorboards during my personal Hell Week there) to shock her into inaction, “The Princess recommended you to accompany me on this diplomatic mission of peacekeeping, and I agreed with her recommendation because I knew you to be a sensible woman of levelheaded prudence. I vouched as much to her”

I jabbed a finger at her, “The actions I am seeing from you right now are making a liar out of me. This impatient need to confront your cousin will reveal the truth of our presence in front of everybody present, which could cause Strongheart to fly the coop and not turn back. If she senses that something is wrong and vanishes, you can kiss any chance she has of talking the hostilities between the settlers and the Buffalo Braves down goodbye. Any blood that spills on account of that would be on your hands” I warned her of the consequences.

She winced slightly at the jab to the virtue that defined her and the possibility of bloodshed being on her, but would ultimately have none of it, using her strong arms to try and force me aside, “Out of mah way, Zenith! This is an Apple family issue and it don’t concern you none!” She waspishly declared, roughly shoving me out of her path.

“I’m afraid that’s going to have to wait until you simmer down, Jackie” I murmured, just catching enough of her attention with the impromptu nickname for a supercharged stunning spell (originally intended for Strongheart) to slam into the side of her face, smashing through the passive magical defenses that being an Element Bearer afforded and zapping her. The resultant energies of the spell surged through her body overloaded her muscle neurons like a Taser, dropping her like a sack of potatoes where she quivered until she was still.

“Sorry AJ,” I apologized to her, “but there’s too much at stake here for you to muck this up over what could be a mere misunderstanding” I cast a second stunning spell to put her under. The jarring reality of her body failing to obey her directions mixed with the resenting betrayal in her eyes flashed across her countenance until her lids faltered shut and she fell into a tranquil, if not induced, state of sleep.

With the rowdy woman effectively incapacitated and in a jumbled heap on the wooden floor, I scooped her up in my arms along with our belongings and turned to the Cherry Ranch owner, who stared at me in awe. Whether it was over my strict actions or the fact that I could cast such potent magic was unknowable.

“Jus’ what are you, Agent Zenith?” She whispered somewhat fearfully, “Cause I don’t recall ever meeting a Stellar Mage who could cast stunning spells that could stop a determined woman like Applejack cold so casually”

“I am more than what I appear to be” I answered ambiguously in a faint rumble, “Do you have a spare guest room upstairs that I can deposit her in until the magic wears off in an hour or so?” And so I could have a moment’s peace to brood on how I would dissuade her from getting openly aggressive with her cousin’s welfare.

She nodded, “I do, but you will have to put her in one on the right wing after you use the stairs. Strongheart and Braeburn are residing at the far end of the left wing and I don’t feel it wise for Miss Applejack to be anywhere near those two in her current state of mind” She shook her head, “I’ve never seen her so angry about anything before, not once. For half a second I thought she’d taken leave of her senses”

“I’ve always perceived people like Applejack and myself to be more right-wing than most” I jested, despite knowing that the political joke would be lost on her, “And there is nothing in this world more important to Applejack than those she cares about, particularly family” I told her with an admiring tone, “Even if it is up to a fault. So do try to factor that into your renewed judgment of her” I advised her, not wanting AJ’s cordial relationship with the Ranch woman to spoil.

Most of the photos in the album that Big Mac kept in his closet attested to that. Every other picture had a much younger Applejack participating in some childhood experience like apple bobbing at an annual get together hosted at one of several locations or corn shucking in the kitchen with members of her extended family, of which there were many. The Apples are nothing if not productive, in the fields and in the bedroom if recent revelations are any clue.

“Ah well, there’s little sense in reflectin’ on it now” She sighed, “So much has been conspiring lately, what with the situation broiling in the South, those two being dumped on my doorstep, and now you and your companion come knockin” She flinched when she realized her faux pas, “Not that I truly mind receiving you or Miss Applejack. It’s just been a lot for me to process in such a short period of time, you know?”

“I understand that sentiment consummately, Miss Jubilee. (‘More than you could possibly know’)” I averred with a respective nod to her, “While we rarely choose the circumstances that life foists upon us, we can choose how we react to them. Your service to the Crown so far has been noted, and I’ll be sure to sing your praises to the Princesses when I make my next report to them in person”

The woman’s eyes widened at this, “You have the ear of the Princesses themselves?”

“Among other things, yes” I replied as I made for the kitchen exit and towards the stairs, with the woman hurrying to shadow me.

She flanked me, disbelief plastered all over her expression, “I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting them, I’m sorry to say. I’m just a lowly regional anchor for the Dodge Junction environs”

“Don’t undervalue yourself so” I scolded her lightly, “The Arcanian Kingdom is like a Temple, and Agents like you and I are the keystones that keep all those pretty arches composing the framework structure in place. Without our influence, the Kingdom would be deprived of its most valuable assets, and we would all be worse for it” I asserted to her, though perhaps I was inflating the importance of the Kingdom’s Agents a mite. Celestia would only be publicly announcing my recruitment sometime this week.

“I’ve never thought of it that way” She admitted as we began to climb the steps, “You sure do have a fancy way with words, Agent Zenith”

“I like to wax my philosophy every now and then” I chuckled, “And please, you can just call me Zenith”

“Then you can call me Cherry, Zenith” She shot back with a winsome smile as we reached the top of the stairs, “The fifth room on the right side ought to be empty… oh, shoot. That’s the same room she stayed in back when she was working for me” She remembered with a scowl. She was witness to the events of Applejack’s shame, and apparently hadn’t forgotten how difficult it must have been for her to see this place again.

“I’ll take that room then, if there’s a negative value attached to its memory” I sagaciously claimed it for myself, “It’s better not to rub salt in the inflamed wounds of her family’s honor. Is there an alternative one for her?”

“The one across from it is unoccupied and will have to do” She substituted lodging suggestions, “It ain’t half as cushy though. I use it as an extra storeroom most of the time” She said embarrassedly.

“Applejack is a woman of modest means” I affirmed, shifting her in my grasp and absently noting how much weight all that muscle added to her form, “I doubt that’ll be the first thing on her mind once she wakes anyhow”

“I don’t envy you that” She remarked, “Just try to keep her from damaging anything. This house has been in my family for generations” It was almost imperceptible, but there was a transitory tremor in her voice at the mention of her family.

I indulged my curiosity, “Speaking of, I haven’t noticed any family members of yours around here” I observed, “Just orchard hands. And they don’t bunk here either” The majority assumably had homes in the town or a worker’s hut to bed down in.

At that her face became slightly pained, “They’ve all passed, some time ago. My younger sister Cherry Cobbler succumbed to a degenerative disease that deteriorated the tissue of her lungs before she made it to her seventh year, and my birth mother Amarelle found out that she was barren and unable to conceive shortly thereafter. I have relatively close relations with the Maraschinos in Vanclover from my grandfather Morello’s second wife, but other than that… I fear I’m quite alone these days”

‘That might explain why she was being moderately flirtatious earlier. She’s lonely’ I felt an odd pang of sympathy for the woman. No one deserved to be left alone in the world like that.

And now I was the person who was committing the verbal faux pas, “My sincerest apologies, Cherry. I did not mean to bring up any painful memories of lost loved ones”

“Don’t you fret over my loneliness, Zenith” She brushed it off with a disguising simper, her faint frown melting from her features, “Eventually I’ll find myself a good man to start a family of my own with” The simper became a knowing smirk, those Spring green irises of hers boring into mine.

I had a random thought, ‘Red and Green are complementary colors, aren’t they?’

I eyed her carefully, “I suspect that you will. Is this the room?” I motioned to the aforementioned door on my left, making Applejack’s legs sway in my bridal style hold.

She nodded in confirmation and helpfully opened the door for us. It wasn’t really mandatory since my hands didn’t need to be unoccupied in order to just magick the door wide and make it accessible for me, but it was the considerate thought that counted. The interior of the guest room was exactly as I pictured and as Miss Jubilee hinted at. Covered and uncovered crates lined the walls and were filled with all sorts of things, ranging from farming tools to kitchenware. Any furniture that was implemented in the room was obscured by white sheets, which I assumed were to protect it from particulate matter and the aging rays of sunlight. The drapes were pulled over the window, with only a thin slit betwixt them to allow a stream of dying dusk light inside. Motes and specks of dust could be seen drifting in that light, highlighting the fact that this room was in dire need of some dusting. Not that I was going to go out of my way to fetch a feather duster and do it myself.

I magicked the white sheet off the bed, gently laid the snoozing Applejack down on the simple spring mattress with linen sheets, plunked her baggage by the bed, and rotated in place to face Miss Jubilee, “Would you mind terribly if I cast another spell or two?”

When she made it clear that she didn’t object, I went ahead with it. The atmosphere around us became electrostatic as I made it swirl in an artificial breeze that collected all of the dust particles and clumped them together until I had a neat little sphere the size of a whiffle ball floating in front of me. Without so much as I second thought, I incinerated the dust ball until it was nothing more than a puff of smoke, which I then dissipated harmlessly. I then inhaled deeply, finding the once musky air in the room already fresher than it was prior to utilizing my housekeeping magic. I silently begrudged that for all its wonders, magic couldn’t lend the room a natural scent of lavender or lilacs without actually conjuring those flowers (which wastefully ate up mana like crazy even for Trifects like myself), so I settled for splitting the oxygen molecules in the air and recombining them into their O3 forms, even though I despised the way Ozone overpowered the olfactory senses.

“I see you have a diversity of useful spells at your fingertips, Zenith” The Orchard gal commented, sounding rather impressed with my wizardry, “The situation must be dreadful indeed if the Princesses sent an urbane man of your caliber here”

“You flatter me, Cherry. Though to be honest with you, this would be my first assignment as an Agent. I’m somewhat of a recent addition to the ranks” I shrugged noncommittally, indifferent to her praise of my skills and newfound station.

She laid a hand on her chest and flashed her pearly teeth, “Is that so? Well I’ve got a dozen bottles of cherry wine in the cellar that I’ve been saving just for special occasions. Would you care to have a few glasses with me? To celebrate joining our unofficial family?”

‘Cherry wine huh? I’ve never had that before. Could be interesting’ And Celestia never expressly forbade me from drinking while I was on the job. I could all but see her disapproving stare in my mind’s eye… wait. She could technically be eavesdropping through that magical seal on my sword hilt right now.

I risked it anyway, “Who would I be to deny my generous host?” Then I recalled an important detail, “But what of Miss Strongheart? I know you told Applejack that her cousin was out in the fields earning his keep here, but what of her? How does she occupy her time these days?”

“She occasionally helps me around the house doing trivial women’s work, but mostly she favors staying out of sight and availing herself of my library selection” The woman informed me, “She should be browsing one Miss Daisy’s Cornfield in her room now, awaiting Braeburn’s return from the fields”

I gave her a quizzical look, “You let them share a room together?” I figured it was pointless to inquire into whether it was a two bed setup or one, given Miss Strongheart’s recent acquisition in her womb.

“They’re inseparable, those two. They’re like a couple of cherries on the same stem! I envy them sometimes…” She glanced at me with a measuring tint to her expression, “I haven’t the heart to keep them apart, in spite of the impropriety. It would be a violation of my personal principles”

“I won’t ask you to do anything that goes against your morals, Cherry” So long as the morals themselves are reasonable, “I would like to wet my whistle though. Lead on, if you would?” I gestured at the hall with my hand, and the woman was receptive to the cue.

As I closed the door behind me, I cast a quick spell on it that caused it to glow reddish for a second as the film of magic settled over it. When that was over with, I casually tossed my things into the room across from AJ’s. It was not a mystery that Cherry wanted to know what I did to her doorway, based on the probing moue she had on her face.

“It’s a barrier spell with some extra functions weaved into the matrix of the spell” I elucidated, “Its primary purpose is obviously as a barrier to keep Applejack confined to her quarters, and its secondary purpose is to send an alerting pulse that will mentally notify me when she makes contact with the door. So if she attempts to turn the knob, or Heaven forbid, kick the door down… I’ll know about it” I winked, “Your houseguests will be sufficiently protected from the violent approach, I promise you”

“A crafty precaution” She acknowledged, before wrinkling her forehead, “But what if she tries to leave by the window again like she did last time?”

I wasn’t worried, having accounted for that possibility beforehand, “With all the boxes and other obstacles barring her way, she’s bound to make some noise if she goes for the window” I tapped the auricle of my left ear, “The spell is sensitive to that as well, and I’m as swift in my reactions as they come. Applejack won’t be confronting Braeburn on her own terms anytime today, not until she cools off”

She accepted this insurance policy without objection. Once we were back in the kitchen, Miss Jubilee bid me to retake the chair I was using before Applejack had her episode of emotional outburst. She sauntered to a dimly lit corner of the kitchen area and revealed a wooden hinged hatch in the ground that I hadn’t noticed before, likely since it blended in seamlessly with the floorboards and because the handle matched the dark green coloration of its surroundings. She grasped at the grainy ring of the trapdoor and exposed a dark aperture in the floor where I presumed her wine cellar was with a curt yank. She lit a lantern hanging from the wall with a matchstick and descended the steps, watching her footing on the narrow rungs of the ladder deliberately. When she remerged, she had a black glass wine bottle in one hand with a crimson fluid contained inside that was darker than deoxygenated blood.

She blew the dust off the glass of the label, which was that of a lone cherry tree on top of a parabolic hill lush with vegetation, “This vintage was a good year for me. Marks the first anniversary of my ownership of this Ranch. We might as well make this an early dinner while we’re at it. I suppose we can use it as an excuse to discuss what we’re to do with the political fugitives I’m sheltering” She retrieved two wine glasses from a cupboard and popped the cork, pouring in the liquid, “How do you feel about cherry pie?”

“I would love… to taste your cherry pie” I earnestly piped up with ardor that could rival Soarin’s, not caring how much it seemed like a double entendre (Which she might probably misconstrue for something untoward). I hadn’t had a fruit pie since I bunked with the Apple Family in their farmhouse, and a man could only appreciate apple pies for so long… even one as proudly American as me.

“Comin’ right up, sugah” She smirked at me, “You really must forgo the headwear at the table though. In this region, we settler folk consider it to be poor manners from our house guests”

“Shame on me” I removed my (technically Big Mac’s) hat and hung it on the pointed edge of the table since the hat rack was out of eyesight, “Sometimes I forget these things”

She tittered as she put on cooking mitts and pulled out a cherry pie that she must’ve made earlier and had been keeping warm in her four chambered cast iron oven, “It’s nothing to chew your nails over, Zenith. Though it is rather apparent that you’re from the urbanized regions further north, which coupled with your lack of accent is a clear tell. Do you come from Concordia perhaps? The adamantine way you compose yourself wouldn’t be out of place there” She ventured a guess.

“What is it with you orchard owners automatically presuming me to be a city boy?” I groused aloud, “I am from the suburbs. I am neither a country nor a city person as far as my background goes” I held my thumb and index finger centimeters apart, “I’m right in the sweet spot. The best of both and worst of none” Although there was a few from the county I called home who could make a convincing argument for the opposite.

“I see” She vocalized with genuine interest as she extracted the sizable pasty. The pie was a hearty fourteen inches across and was baked to perfection. The crust was a golden brown and even from this distance I could discern that it was the right balance between firm and flaky. The latticework in the center of the pie crisscrossed a thickened mixture of syrupy cherries that I’m sure were the only thing my eyes reflected if one were to examine my gaze.

The appetizing smell permeated the air and my stomach chose that moment to grumble loudly in anticipation, “I know some part of you is a cherry lover at least” She laughed as she set it on the tabletop, hearing my bodily gurgling, “I’ve never seen a man so eager for pie since I took Braeburn in and gave him and Strongheart sanctuary”

“It’s been years since I’ve had cherry pie” I quietly confessed to her.

“Truly!?” She was aghast, “Well I cannot in good conscience let that atrocity continue a minute more!” She plucked a plate from a stack in the middle of the table and produced a serving knife in the other hand. With it she cut the pie into sixths and plopped a lovely looking slice onto the plate intended for me, “Eat up, Agent. You haven’t lived until you’ve tried one of my pies”

‘That’s a immodest claim, but I’m too hungry to dispute it right now’ I grabbed my fork and stabbed at the tip of the slice before scooping it up into my awaiting maw. The taste was… momentarily indescribable to me. It was like soothing classical music on a bright summer day, with the warm light of the sun soaking into my skin as I kicked back without a care in the world.

I resisted the urge to moan my satisfaction, but Jubilee could still discern how fulfilling that single bite of her cherry stock was, “Glad to see you enjoying yourself, Zenith”

“God” I breathed as I wolfed down the rest, “I haven’t had a dish that delectable in what feels like ages!” I pressed a hand to my chest and hummed with pleasure, “I think I might be in love with your skill for making pasties, Cherry” I wasn’t sure if I was joking or not.

She blushed at the exclamatory plaudit, “That’s only half of the equation, Zenith. You should wash it down with this” To punctuate her words, she cupped her glass between her middle and ring finger and swirled it in an advertising manner.

“You’re right” I snatched the glass by the stem and raised it upwards towards her in a toast, “To newly forged friendships!”

“To the beginning of a brand new and beautiful relationship” She declared along with me, clinking her glass against mine with a musical ring that I was pretty sure only leaden wine glasses could emit.

I gave the contents of the glass an experimental sniff, appraising its heady scent, “Hmm… a fruity bouquet with a hint of oak from the cask it fermented in” I tipped the wine glass back, letting the liquid slosh onto my tongue and turn that faint smell into a potent taste, “A bold blend of sour with sweetness in the undertones. Classy” I wasn’t big on wines in general, but this cherry wine managed to catch my interest.

“A connoisseur!” She gushed with a note of admiration, “You become more interesting by the minute, Zenith. Where did you learn to discern the flavor properties in wine like that?”

“From my father, mostly” I told her, “He was never a heavy drinker, by any definition, but he knew how to assess his libations. That knowledge naturally passed down to me via the verbal tradition” I may have also picked his brain on the subject. My guileless and inexperienced mind reasoned that any liquids that came in so many creative varieties of bottling had to be worth looking into. It’s a shame that the reality was on the disappointing side.

“He sounds like he was quite the man” She remarked, “You had a close relationship with your father?”

“The closest” I replied without any hesitation. My chest twinged a bit at the memory of family, but I suppressed it, “He was my first and greatest role model, growing up. He was incredibly hardworking, morally upright, had a sharp, witty sense of humor, put his beloved family above himself, and instilled me with his wisdom. I wouldn’t be half the man I was today without his guiding influence in my life” I spoke from the heart. What would he say about the life I was leading currently? Would he be proud of what I had done and the reasons for why I had done it? I pushed the uncomfortable thoughts away. Now was not the time for reminiscing, but for familiarizing myself with my company.

“I am envious of you then” Cherry uttered, taking a ladylike sip of her wine, “My Pa always had his hands full managing this precious ranch of ours, so we were never able to spend as much time together to develop the closeness you describe having with your father. And with his unfortunate passing after a losing battle with an illness that resisted even the Doc’s magically based treatments, the opportunity for that intimacy faded along with his health” She then looked on the brightside, “He did teach me the precarious art of business management with an undertaking of this size though, so there is that. What did your father do for a living?”

“He worked out business deals for a reputable and prestigious pharmaceutical company that dealt mainly in over the counter prescription drugs” I answered, skimming over the specifics, “Though the company itself frequently alternated its name on so many occasions and so randomly with its thematic labeling that I nicknamed it Capricious Incorporated. My father’s routine juggling in face to face meetings with so many people from rival companies or producers with differing desires and concerns while simultaneously hammering out a compromise that pleased both parties is partly how I learned to get a decent read on people and utilize that in my own capacity for negotiating agreements” Though the people here are by and large more agreeable than those in the heartland.

‘And I’m liable to be using that skill a lot in the coming days’ I mused.

Then she crossed an unspoken line, “Are you two still in touch?”

In spite of my efforts, my mood sank, “Once… I could talk to him about anything at anytime. My present circumstances prevent me from communicating with any of my family members now” I’ve given them my goodbyes though, so why did it still sting to recall their faces?

She was abashed, “Oh… I’m sorry to hear that. Do they live across continents? I’m sure you could convince one of the airship captains in Stratopolis to deliver a written letter along with their cargo on their next ocean crossing”

“They could cross an ocean of stars, and they’d never be able to deliver that letter” I muttered under my breath, “You don’t understand, Cherry, and I must politely request of you that we change the subject to something less familial”

The shamed tinge to her cheeks grew hotter (Though that could have just been the alcohol in the wine taking effect), “Of course. Where should we start?”

“How is it that Braeburn and Strongheart braved the desert between Appleloosa and Dodge Junction without anyone spotting them?” My tone shifted professionally to the business at hand.

“By the skin of their teeth, it would seem” She shook her head, “Poor dears had depleted the last of their water skins when that dust storm hit. Normally the desert storms here aren’t so bad, but this one was ominous in its severity. If they had been caught out in the open when it struck instead of within my orchards, their flesh would have been sheared off of their bones and their lungs would have been desiccated from the sandy dust”

“Fortunately that wasn’t the case” But it did leave one question, “This dust storm, how is it that one cannot tell that the storm passed through here? The orchard itself looks as healthy and vibrant as it ideally should be” I pointed out.

She bristled with pride, “That’s one of the secret benefits bequeathed upon an orchard imbued with Agrarian magic. The orchard is enchanted to resist even the worst weather conditions while still bearing fruit. Dust is absorbed into the root system and converted into soil. The remaining dust residue was easily handled by arming my field hands with brooms and dustpans. They worked tirelessly to tidy the place up” She giggled, “They love this orchard almost as much as I do”

I accepted this tentatively, marveling at how much she must pay them to ‘love’ this place like she did, “The couple crossed how many miles of open desert to reach Dodge Junction?”

She tapped a finger to her chin as she calculated the distance, “The expanse lying between here and Appleloosa has got to be at least a hundred leagues of dust, sand, and hardpan. Though with the harsh sun bearing down on them and the arid conditions with nary a well of water in sight… it must have felt like a thousand miles to those poor dears”

‘This isn’t a positive sign’ I brooded, ‘It means that they were desperate enough to put their respective homes in the rearview that they would venture into the barren desert to accomplish that goal’

“Have they hinted at what their plans are?” I asked her, “Surely they didn’t intend to overstay their welcome here?”

“If they did, they were very tight lipped about it, but it was obvious that they were relieved that I insisted they stay a good long while under my care” She chewed her lower lip, “They were tense at first though, jumping at the smallest shadows and wondering if anyone came from the south looking for them” She looked at me in acute fear, “Do you think they were being hunted?”

I considered it, “It’s very possible they were. Tell me, Cherry. How much have you been apprised about the identity of Miss Strongheart?”

She bobbed her shoulders, “I know that she’s betrothed to somebody important in her tribe, as you’ve told me yourself. But not much else”

Then it was time to rectify that, “She’s the daughter of their Chieftain, which I’m assuming is the equivalent to our Royalty. Her absence will be linked to settlers, and they know it, since Braeburn is evidently not with that community”

“Oh my…” She gawked, shriveling back into her chair, “Suddenly their latest reasons for being incensed makes sense” Her forehead wrinkled further, “But how can that be? Strongheart hasn’t said much since she arrived, but she dismissed herself as being all that imperative, claiming to be yearning to start life anew with her love”

I mirrored her shrug, “That could be the nervousness of fleeing from her tribe, or from the ensuing hunt in their getaway, or the cruelty of desert wastes gnawing at their fortitude. Either way, she had no reason to be upfront with you about her real identity” Which would only have been additional ammunition for Applejack to berate her cousin with if she were awake for this conversation.

Yet Celestia knew for a fact that it was her taking shelter in the Orchard since Braeburn accompanied her. Her sources and clairvoyant assessment of their relationship (even Applejack knew nothing of this) must have been expertly positioned to make this kind of conjecture. Albeit I doubt she could have predicted Strongheart’s pregnancy. But did the newly made mother know?

“Who else did the Doc disclose Strongheart’s… condition to?” I might have to buy people’s silence, or ensure it through other means.

“Just me! I swear it” She answered hastily, sounding fearful of what I might do to those who were in on the secret, “Doctor Holiday is one of the very few people in town who knows of my association with the Crown, and he has an excellent sense of discretion. Not even Strongheart knows of the precious life quickening in her womb”

I reduced my wine glass to half volume, “And it will have to stay that way, for the time being. Her betrothed will not take kindly to the news that she has already consummated a relationship with some other man. I don’t know a thing about how the Buffalo Braves view the institution of marriage, but fidelity is a concept that crosses most cultural borders”

I idly watched the liquid in my wine glass swirl and paint the walls of the glass as I spun it, “Speaking of… I must know something. You won’t violate your principles and keep Braeburn and his amour apart from the same bed, but you will report housing them to the authorities. Can you give me your reasons for the disparity, if you would?”

She refilled her wine glass, eager to empty the whole bottle, “My principles never get in the way of my duty to the Crown, Zenith. What Bareburn is doing for his love is admirable, but unbelievably foolish. If the situation in the south comes to a head because this woman’s disappearance was the straw that broke the camel’s back… people could die”

She extended every digit on her free hand, “There’s roughly five thousand settlers scattered around the mesa region hugging the plains where the Buffalo Braves roam about, following the herds after which they named themselves. The largest concentration of them are in the town of Appleloosa at a third of that number” Her eyes became slits as she tapped the table with those fingers three times, “There’s anywhere from ten to fifteen thousand Buffalo Braves making a home for themselves in those plains, many of whom are hunters trained from birth in the art of the kill” Those fingernails now took on a fresh meaning.

“They cannot be coordinated enough to amass that number into a war host though” I argued, “The overall tribe consists of multiple villages, just as scattered as the settler towns. The outlaws raiding them seemingly at random are proof of that, elsewise they’d mount an effective defense of their home. How populated is the main village, where the Chieftain resides?”

“Haven’t the foggiest” She shrugged, almost flippantly, “They don’t have to all be working in unison in order to crush the settler folk however. I had heard about the first clash between the Appleloosans and the Braves over the right to plant an apple orchard over what the natives deemed as sacred stampeding grounds for the herds” She clicked her tongue, “Poor folks were nearly overwhelmed when things got ugly”

With their numbers, I could imagine that was almost certainly the case, “Did anyone die?”

“Lot of injuries, and a few maiming’s that could have gotten gruesome if it weren’t for the conciliatory efforts of Braeburn and Strongheart” She hummed, “Applejack tells this tale better than I ever will, but while she was fanning at the flames and defending the settlers’ claim, her cousin wanted the two sides to reach an agreement and thankfully… so did Strongheart. Braeburn pleaded with Sheriff Silverstar while Strongheart likewise urged her father to call off the attack. After a cease of the hostilities was painstakingly brought about and the leadership of the two sides met in the middle, the settlers agreed to chop down a section of their trees as to clear a path for the Buffalo Braves to channels their herds through so they could water them at a nearby river. In exchange, the land the settlers were on was recognized as sovereign Arcanian territory that the Braves would not interfere in so long as peace was preserved”

That more or less matched up to my perception of the events, “Is that it?”

“The Buffalo Braves of the main village also humbly requested that the settlers provide them with apple pies as trade goods to swap with the other villages” She hooted with laughter, “I always get a kick out of picturing that. Can you visualize those uncivilized people chowing down on apple pies?”

I crooked my head disapprovingly, “Cherry, just because the Buffalo Braves subscribe themselves to a hunter-gatherer’s way of life does not make them any less civilized than we are. Otherwise, no agreements would have been realized in the first place and Appleloosa would likely be a ghost town with a bloody past”

She blushed heavily (again, this could be attributed to the wine), “You’re absolutely right, Zenith. Sometimes I say things under the influence of the drink that have no right to pass through my lips. I need only look at the refined politeness of Strongheart to see how wrong I am to call them uncivilized, as my Pa once did when he told me and my sister spook stories about the men with buffalo heads coming to snatch us away in the night if we misbehaved”

Without waiting for my permission, she related many of these spook stories to me in detail, occasionally stopping in her narratives to imbibe some more wine in increasingly less ladylike swigs. The stories covered all sorts of material, from snarks to wailing, spectral phantoms that would scream in your ears when you slept unless you paid them the proper rites. It was mildly entertaining at first, until five minutes ticked into ten, which turned into thirty. Before I knew it, a whole hour had melted away listening to Miss Jubilee relate folklore about the incorporeal, half of which wasn’t even true since I had met incorporeal beings that were certified ghosts before passing into the beyond. I had never leaked it to anyone, but I still possessed fragments of their memories and the lives they led before Celestia’s spat with the Night Terror over the mastership of the world abruptly ended them. Luna still did not know about their grisly, unspeakable fate afterwards, and I did not plan on notifying her of that at any time.

“Ya‘ver had one of those sturies told to you as a tot by your pa?” She asked me in a moderately tipsy slur, “I don’ know why, but they always fascinated me as a child. Ther’sh plenty of books in my library that reference them”

“My father was religious… not superstitious” I deadpanned, “He taught me to fear God, not monsters arbitrarily conjured from the depths of one’s imagination” And the real monsters skulking about in the shadows could be dealt with handily if they were to materialize themselves before me.

There was hardly any light coming through the windows now, signaling the beginning of dusk. The creak of the hinges as the entry door swung open echoed throughout the relatively empty house, followed by a gentle closing instead of a typical neglectful slam, indicating that whoever it was that was responsible was careful not to draw too much attention to themselves. The mystery person’s boot spurs clinked along their path in a similar way to mine, though the clink was distinct enough to be recognizable to me in the future. When the figure veiled by shadows stepped into the light of the kitchen, it was revealed to be the lucky (or very unlucky) man himself, Braeburn.

The man himself looked drowsy from a lengthy day in the fields, but there was an easygoing smile on his face that seemed like it could withstand a lot of stress before wilting. The brim of his brown Stetson hat had a unique upward curve to it that reflected the cocky vibes his presence gave off. Below that, sandy blonde hair tumbled over the upper half of his downcast, chartreuse green eyes. His garments consisted of a long sleeved button up work shirt of subdued yellow that was checkered in white lines and damp from sweat. Over that he wore a sleeveless leather vest with breast pockets. Dirtied jeans covered his legs and were anchored in place by a belt with a bright red apple (doubtlessly his namesake fruit) stamped onto the silver metal buckle. His hands were gloved and one of them rested inside the lining of his belt by the thumb as he walked with a subtle swagger in his step. The man’s low heeled cowboy boots were only calf high, but appeared sturdy in spite of their age and signs of repeated wear.

“Evenin’, Miss Jubilee” He casually greeted the woman (who was swaying a tad in her chair from the wine) in the southern drawl he had in common with his cousins, “Sorry if ah’m a mite late for dinner. One a’ the cogs for the cherry conveyer belt snapped a couple a’ teeth an’ I had to go into town to buy a replacement for it”

“Evenin’ handsome!” She chirped with a drunken glow to her face, “That’s alright, you’re jesht in time! The cherry pie was on the verge of gettin’ cold” She tipped her wine glass in my direction, “He knows what I’m talking about, dont’cha sugah?”

At her gesturing, he finally noticed me sitting nearby at the table and tipped his hat respectfully, “Howdy there stranger! Don’t recall seein’ you round here before. You a friend of Miss Jubilee?” He inquired, removing his gloves one at a time.

He was being decorous, but there was a scrutinizing edge to his voice that alerted me not to mince my next words, “You could say that, given how innately friendly she is. Though I do believe she’s had quite the fill of wine at the moment to boost that friendliness” I misdirected his attention back to Cherry, who giggled in intoxication at having all eyes fixed on her.

“I reckon ya got a point there” He stuck his hand out to me, which I proceeded to shake, noting the smooth roughness to the flesh of his palm, “Ah’m Braeburn, one of the field hands mah boss has on staff. The woman herself was kind enough to lend us a room with a roof over our heads”

His slightly rigid posture relaxed as we clasped hands, and I knew that he believed he no longer had cause to suspect that a plot was brewing in which he would be a central character. For a man on the run, he was awfully open about the fact that he was sharing a guest room with somebody else. He was either overly confident about the safety of his sanctuary, or wasn’t too fast on the draw in keeping his mouth shut about certain potentially valuable pieces of information.

“Zenith,” I gave him my own moniker, “from up north. I’m prospective aid for business here at the orchard and beyond. And this wonderful dinner is doubling as an interview with which to apprise Miss Jubilee of my talents. Though the loquacious woman is out-trading me in the amusing stories department”

Despite having one too many glasses of wine, Cherry was still coherent enough to catch my drift, “A’course! Zenith here is a very promisin’ candidate indeed! Stay a while and help me grill him good Braeburn! I don’ think he’s tense enough!” She relapsed into her uncultivated southern accent as she jested, much to my consternation.

Inserting that I was from the north eroded whatever leftover wariness he retained, “That’s mighty tempting. But I think I’ll jus’ take a slice of pie to go and turn in for the night” He grinned wryly and with his right palm facing upwards, gesticulated to himself with a lowering motion, “As ya can probably tell, I’m in need of a hot soak with soap”

“Well don’t let us keep you! Get yourself a slice of pie, another for your roommate, and get a move on!” I exclaimed jocosely. Meanwhile I was taking my own measure of Applejack’s cousin’s character. He gave me the impression of being an agreeable guy, but people could become fiercely and irrationally protective of their loved ones if they thought they were in danger. I of all people could understand that.

His brow furrowed, “A thoughtful suggestion but… naw. Mah roommate prefers the taste of apples” His grin stretched a little wider, “If’n you know what I mean”

‘If I didn’t already know who he was sharing that room with, I’d be inclined to think some very scandalous things about Braeburn’ I mused with exiguous amounts of sleazy humor.

“I’m sure they do” I replied neutrally, “I’ll take care of Miss Jubilee here. She’s not currently fit to properly conclude this interview of ours” I indicated to the woman, who occasionally squeaked out a light hiccup that sounded completely adorable coming from her, which was in stark contrast to her age.

“I am very much fit to concluth thish interview!” She contested in a barely comprehensible garble, reaching for her glass and failing, knocking it over in the process and spilling the darkish fluid over the mahogany, “And I say that you’re fired!” She clapped a hand to her face, “No… I mean hired!” She vivaciously corrected herself, in high spirits in spite of her foolishness.

I sank into the cushion of the Victorianesque chair, “I rest my case” I sighed with genuine exasperation.

Why was it that I had to put up with so many women who were into alcohol? Daring overdid her intemperance, Octavia could hide her drink infused courage, Lyra gulled me into cutting loose at Berry’s bar (I still can’t remember what happened after I went bottom’s up with the infamous Berry Blaster), and now Cherry Jubilee here looks like she couldn’t walk in a straight line after only a few glasses of wine. So much for the vaunted fortitude of the Agrarian liver.

Braeburn observed all of this with that same, stupid grin, “I can see ya got yer hands full here pardner” He cut himself a slice of pie and appropriated a plate with sumac designs sketched into the rim, “Anyhow, you’re right. I need to get a move on afore the twilight hours descend” He rose from the table and tipped his brown leather banded hat to the both of us in parting, “Seeya in the mornin’ boss. Mister Zenith. G’night” With his farewells wished to us, he exited the kitchen and went up the stairs with his early dinner in tow.

Once I confirmed that he was out of my hearing range, I turned to Jubilee, “So I guess I’m in your employ now? Or will that be an unadulterated lie?”

Jubilee’s formerly happy expression faded with Braeburn’s passing, “We’ll talk about thish in the mornin’, Zenith” She waved me over almost desperately, “Help me up the stairs and to my bedroom, pleash. It’s right down the center hallway”

“Of course, Cherry” I acquiesced instantly, moving over to her and helping her out of her seat with firm hands clamped on her midsection. I wouldn’t say that she was light as a feather, but Jubilee’s meager plumpness scarcely had an adverse effect on her weight.

She massaged her temples and groaned on the way there, “I love the drink, but it doesn’t love me it sheems”

A loose floorboard on the stairs creaked as our combined weight strained it, “Such is the toll of excessive inebriation. It was a refreshing wine though”

She glanced at me incredulously, “Your face ishn’t so much as flushed! Jush what are ya made of that makesh you so impervious?”

“My abnormally immense alcohol tolerance means that conventional drinks can’t impair my complexion, much less my judgment” I chortled, remembering how that wasn’t always the case.

Once, even the faintest whiff of alcohol would impart a redness to my cheeks that was twice the brightness that Cherry was sporting. It was one of the unusual side effects of having my uncommon heritage. Now however, only the black witch’s brew that Berry Punch somehow contrived could cause me to skip the tipsy phase and go straight to the hammering hangover phase.

Speaking of which, “You probably should have balanced your wine intake with water, Cherry” I advised her, “Tomorrow morning wouldn’t smart so much otherwise”

“Pah!” She vocalized dismissively, “Ya don’ think a leehry woman like me wouldn’t stock a bafroom cabinet full of hangover cure vials, would ya?”

The lines forming the gap of my lips became flat, “I suppose I wouldn’t now” We were before the doorway now, “I’ll see you in the morning, Cherry. We’ve work yet to do. And I don’t just mean your original houseguests”

Cherry nodded, or maybe her head was just heavy in her alcoholic haze, “It’s a damn shame that Braeburn is taken with the natif girl. An’ it’s a worsh one that Applejack is taken with you” She murmured low, and I wouldn’t have heard it if it wasn’t for my heightened senses.

I scoffed, “You’re imagining things, Cherry. Applejack and I are just…” I trailed off, unsure as to how our relationship could be objectively classified.

Were we only friends? We worked together on her farm, and that gave me plenty of time to get to know the country girl and respect her as an individual. We got along cordially, and efficiently handled the market throngs like a popular restaurant handled its midday lunch rush, with dynamic poise and grace. But nagging at the rear of my mind was the time where Rarity goaded Applejack into sneaking into my bed after Pinkie’s mandatory surprise welcoming party (of which I was the one doing the surprising) and pretend like it was the morning after the drunken debauchery, pivoting on the premise that my memory would be clouded by the drinking contest I had with Rainbow Dash (Whenever I was in need of a cackle, I just pictured her face when she believed that her cherished apple cider was lost to her). The apple farmer’s cheeks were so rosy when I feigned ignorance to her playing along with the deception, compounded by whispering huskily in her ear about my carnal capacity and nipping at the lobe. I assumed she was merely embarrassed that I turned the tables on her so easily, but maybe it was deeper than that. I frowned when I recalled the disappointed way she looked at me when I told her that I was hesitant with the idea of marrying someone due to internal insecurities that would stay known only to me. I felt a chill creep up my spine in contempt of the warm air inside of Miss Jubilee’s home.

Cherry smirked sharkishly at my newly withdrawn attitude, suddenly sufficiently sober enough to tease me, “I may not be the youngest gal in these parts anymore, but I’ve done my share of swoonin’ to still recognize that foolhardy burnin’ yearnin’ in the back of her eyes. She fancies you… even if she can’t admit it to herself”

My nose scrunched as I tried (and failed) to make sense of this, “But… why? Behind Pinkie Pie, Applejack is the second most neglected member of our circle of friends time wise. We bandy words about when it’s best to be honest every so often, but generally our interaction is kept to a minimum”

Not that our seldom get-togethers were either of our faults. My agenda was characterized by training with shadow opponents in the glade beneath my cloud home, reading esoteric texts about far off countries and their customs, and my affectionate obligations towards the women in my life… while Applejack had her orchard, her business, and family to keep her occupied. But now that I was devoting the energy to meditate on it, I cannot cite any instances where I saw Applejack spending extra time with a man (other than her brother) besides business transactions in the town. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I was the only exception to that rule. Did some subconscious part of her latch onto me as a target for potential matchmaking? If that was so, then I couldn’t fathom why. She was literally the Element of Honesty and simple acts of stating untruths made her physically sick to her stomach, whereas I could lie until my tongue became charcoal and not feel regret afterwards, typically because I was of the opinion that I had a solid reason to lie.

On the flip side of all that; Applejack and I did have many qualities in common too. Both of us could be incredibly stubborn when we set our minds on something and would disregard alternate suggestions even if it was for our own well being. We both understood the value of a hard work ethic and agreed that your yields matched the magnitude of your toiling in the fields. I’d also shared the fact that I would never be able to see my parents in this life ever again, and it was difficult to disprove that our personal bond strengthened as she spoke about how we were alike in that misfortune. Perhaps there was more betwixt us than I initially gave it credit for.

“Who can say, Zenith? Us females are mysterious creatures, and our hearts are as fickle to us as they must be to you” She made light of her gender’s frustrating quirks.

“I do know this though. If she doesn’t make a move on you soon…” She circled a painted fingernail on my chest sensuously, “I just might” Her half lidded green eyes glinted mischievously as they bored into mine.

I cleared my throat and pulled my hat over my face to avoid her provocative gaze, “Once again you flatter me, Cherry. But that’s the alcohol doing the talking, not you. Even if it isn’t… let’s put business before pleasure first, okay?”

“Delayed gratification only makes the satisfaction all the sweeter, sugah” She hummed in affirmation as she opened the door partway and made a show of slowly sliding herself behind it while maintaining eye contact with me, “Nighty night, Zenith” She left me standing in the hall reforming my perceptions of the woman for the third occasion that day.

I shuffled in the direction of the right wing and stopped by the door to Applejack’s room. The spell guarding the door had picked up no precipitous activity, even though the spell I had used to incapacitate the tough Agrarian woman had worn off by now. I put my ear to the door and listened carefully to what was on the other end, hearing nothing out of the ordinary besides the hushed breathing of a snoozing woman, meaning that Applejack was legitimately asleep on her bed. I took a step back and nodded tersely to myself. If her earlier attitude had bled into her mind, she was likely dreaming about the many different methods at her disposal for ripping her cousin a new one for his brashness. I did not envy the harrowing task of speaking with her when she awoke tomorrow and physically expressed her displeasure at my knocking her out, when all she wanted to do was have a discussion with her cousin about him knocking a woman up.

Contented that dealing with Applejack’s drama was put on hold for now, I slinked into my own room crosswise to hers. The room was dim in the encroaching blackness of the night, with Luna’s moon providing little in the way of illumination for this region of Arcania. The silhouette of a lamp on the dresser was the first thing that popped out to me, so I stumbled over several objects shrouded in shadow to get to it as my eyes adjusted to the poor lighting conditions. The lamp was one of those types where in order to activate it; you had to yank on a metal pull chain in a downward motion. I did so, receiving a grating sound as I worked the mechanism. Jubilee’s deceptively rudimentary home was of the modern persuasion, so electricity flowed through an insulated cord running up the vase and into an old fashioned light bulb that was rated at about sixty watts, if the level of illumination it beamed was any indication.

I repined as I noted that the filaments in the light bulb were shaped in such a manner that they resembled cherries. The orangey rays of light lit up the room and gave me insight into its décor, which unsurprisingly paid homage to the endless fields of fruit growing outside the window. There was a pair of cherries on the wall to the left of the bed, on the door leading to the hallway, and on the foot of the bed. There was even a picture of a cherry tree in bloom above the headboard! I resisted an urge to grumble unkindly about the egocentrism transpiring in the homes of Agrarian farmers. Did each of them dedicate themselves so zealous to honoring the object of their livelihoods? It was like a businessman or entrepreneur back home pinning a frame of the first dollar they made in a special place of honor… wait, scratch that. There were examples of people who actually did that.

Other than the surfeit cherry decorations, Miss Jubilee’s guest room had all the comforts I needed to feel at home, or as close to it as I would ever get here. I reclaimed the adventure pack that I had unconcernedly thrown in through the doorway (since impacts didn’t do anything to jumble the contents inside) and set it beside my bed before stripping myself of my duster, hidden blades, shirt, pants, boots, and gun belt (Which I inserted into the drawer of my nightstand where it was out of sight, as a discreet precaution). The hat I positioned over the lamp. It was mildly amusing for me to note that cowboy hats made even inanimate objects seem that much cooler.

I then expended about ten seconds mumbling curses as I rifled aimlessly through my pack and pulled out some lavish nightwear that Rarity had made for me and insisted I wear to bed while on the road, guilt tripping me into obeying by sniffling and asserting that I wouldn’t want to spurn all of her hard efforts just for the misplaced sake of my manly pride or some nonsense like that. My pajama’s (though Rarity preferred the term loungewear) consisted of a two buttoned satin nightshirt that depicted an eventide scene where the sun was sinking beneath the horizon, the line of which was just below my Adam’s apple along the collar. The velvety pants continued that scene over a moonlit ocean, its light gleaming in white streams as the sea waves crested and waned.

I missed the days when I could sleep in the buff without being judged, but Rarity made these clothes comfortable enough that it was a petty complaint. I cannot count the number of times that Starswirl and I slept under the stars with damp clothing from either the sweat or fording a raging river in the Dreamy Vale. Sometimes we went to sleep after suffering a bloody encounter with the Acolytes or their hired cronies. There was no shortage of excitement to be experienced in the bygone valley.

My head was slowly sucked into the downy feather pillow as I drew the quilted sheets over my body, my mass creating an indentation in the springy mattress of the bed. As an inveterate habit, I pored over my next course of action (other than getting some sleep that was), factoring in the unfolding events as they came to me. Braeburn and his lover had fled from their respective homes and endured no less than three hundred miles of scorching, arid desert to get away from the hostilities beginning to brew between their peoples. Braeburn might have been cleverer than I conjectured, but I was reasonably sure that he did not suspect my true reasons for being here. Once he did though, I did not expect that he’d willingly go back without some convincing… of which Applejack could do in spades. I would have to limit it so that Braeburn was rendered physically, if not mentally, intact.

That left the Buffalo Brave girl, Strongheart, who I had not met yet and was essentially a wild card. All I knew about her was what Cherry had told me, that she was an avid reader and hungry for knowledge of the outside world, which I could use as an incentive for her to play ball. She could shed some valuable insight into the ways of her people and how they might plan to wage war on the settlers as retribution for their losses, which the settlers were innocent of (As far as I knew, anyhow). The question of how I’d deal with the desperados would have to wait until I was further south. I would have to rely on Miss Jubilee to provide us the means for traveling to Appleloosa without arousing any undue notice on us. Appeased with the products of my rumination, I let my mind drift until the gentle embrace of sleep overtook me and my eyes flittered shut.

⁂

I came to in that blank expanse called the Conception Canvas and breathed a sigh of relief that I wasn’t technically holding. After that dream that wasn’t a dream on the train ride to Dodge Junction, I was a tad wary of what I might encounter in my sleep tonight. Looking around, the scenery was its default environment of classic nothingness. Despite the desire to replace the blandness with something that had some flair, my creative tanks were running low on fuel. So I conjured up a leather reclining chair and was recumbent upon it. In my right hand was a glass of Cointreau, since the taste was reminiscent of the orange peels that I loved to chew on as a kid.

“Greeting, Zenith. How dost thy quest fare?” Luna’s voice whispered to me from all around, like she was the wind and I was caught in her gust.

‘Here to check in on me, is she?’ While the implied lack of trust was a nuisance, I knew that this was probably the optimal method for keeping me on track.

“Princess Luna” I gave a curt forward incline of my head to express my respects, “My quest fares well. Applejack and I have arrived at Dodge Junction without external incident and made contact with Agent Jubilee. Though there are some complications that could potentially stymie my progress in ensuring a state of peace between the southern settlers and Buffalo Braves”

Luna materialized before me in a turbulent swirl of shadow and screeching bats, “Thou utter the truth? Tell us what form of ‘snag’ you have come across that has hindered you so” She emphasized with air quotes. It was always adorable to see the Princess get with the common vernacular, owing to that impassive tone of hers that was nearly as inscrutable as mine.

I sipped at my dream liqueur, “It’s a minor detail, all things taken into account, but this small detail has unknowable ramifications for my mission”

The Princess conjured an exact replica of her night court throne and seated the royal posterior on it, “Cease with thine dancing around the issue, we art in a foul mood tonight”

That much was clear, “What’s wrong, Luna?”

She scowled, “It’s Discord. That treacherous trickster duped us into believing he was at his station reducing the stacks of paperwork that the latest tax enactments for thine projects have spawned” She rubbed at her temples, “Now the problematic task has fallen to us, and we art currently engaged in this whilst simultaneously communicating with you. To believe our old nemesis had the nerve to stitch together such a shoddy likeness of himself to misdirect us!” She insinuated that her intelligence had been insulted.

“Discord is not of the soundest mind, nor judgment at the best of times” I listed in deadpan, “But that does not make him stupid. Nor was he deceiving you with fully mischievous intent” I drained the remainder of my Cointreau, “I was calling in a favor from him yesterday, which required his attention and his personal presence”

Luna’s eyes narrowed, “What manner of favor did he grant you?”

A cocktail table rose out of the blackness beside me and I placed the emptied glass on it, “Remember our shared adventures in dreamland? How many of our opponents would use weapons that spit ‘hellfire and brimstone’ as you first described it?”

“Verily” She replied in the affirmative, “Those were the advanced firearms that we pray the Gryphondrians never scrounge up the intelligence to innovate. Such killing potential should not wind up in the hands of potential enemies”

Now I was the one doing the scowling, “Clarify that last statement for me, please?”

Luna shook her head, “It can wait until thy business in the south has been concluded”

I snorted, accepting this for now, “Discord and I combined our brands of magic to corporealize a weapon with which to counteract these gun toting brigands operating in the south”

Luna did not approve of this unknown deal, “Be wary, Zenith. The boons that Discord bestows are not without their pitfalls”

“First Celestia and now you!” I exclaimed with exasperation, “It wasn’t some poisoned gift wrapped with a pretty bow, Princess” I retorted, “It was a favor, and Discord is reformed. It wouldn’t kill you to show him some trust in him every now and again, would it?”

She wouldn’t change her mind on this, “You do not have the history with him that my sister and I have had, Zenith”

“I don’t like him any more than you do, Luna. But I believe in second chances more than I believe in holding a grudge” I said quietly, “I didn’t just call in a favor with him, you know. I spent a virtual week inside of a dream world where I trained with my latest weapon, so I wouldn’t have to learn how to use it the hard way. I learned a little bit about who he was before he became the eccentric man you know him for today”

“And you trusted him by his word?” Luna scoffed derisively, “Perhaps you are not as wise as my dear sister credits you for”

I ignored that jab, “He had no reason to lie to me. In fact, if I gleaned anything worthwhile from his past, it’s that he may have come into contact with one of the shards housing the fragments of the Great Dissonance”

This got Luna’s attention, “What makes you so sure about this?” She asked in a guarded tone.

“Did you ever wonder why he is a self styled avatar of Chaos?” I answered with my own question, “We may never know who the fateful islander was that picked up what he thought was a jet black rock that had washed up on the shore, but I do know that Discord is the man whose consciousness emerged from it”

Luna sat bolt upright, “If this is the case, then he is even more dangerous! We ought to have the watch on him doubled… nay! Tripled!”

I held up a hand to mollify her, “Hold on, hold on! I understand that there is a possibility that he may have been influenced by whatever he found in that fragment, but I don’t think that he should be deemed a malicious threat”

“And why not?” Luna snapped at me, “How could you of all people support him? Your very purpose in our world is to rid us of the threat the Great Dissonance represents to us all!”

My expression darkened, “You don’t need to remind me of my duties, Selene” If Luna was affected by the invocation of her birth name, she hid it expertly, “Tell me something, and forgive me if this seems on the philosophical side… but is it better to be born righteous? Or to become righteous through great effort?” I quoted a variation of Paarthurnax’s wisdom. That was one cool dragon… and not just because he dwelled at the vertex of the tallest snowcapped mountain in Tamriel.

This query stumped the Princess, who did not respond right away. So I picked up the slack, “Personally I think the end result is the same for both, but there is a higher merit to the latter. Discord is a strange individual, and misunderstood as well…” I looked at her sidelong, “Does that ring any bells?”

Luna frowned at the comparison, “We are nothing like him!” She insisted, “We may have been driven by bitterness and jealously towards our sister when we became the Night Terror, but we only had-”

“The best of intentions for everyone?” I finished for her, causing her to flinch for the first time, “There’s a saying involving a road to hell which is paved with those. Believe it or not, Discord had those too when he usurped rulership over Arcania”

“He made our subjects miserable!” She shouted, getting to her feet, “Under him, nothing functioned as it should have! The Sun and Moon rose and fell at his whim! The spells of the Stellar Magi failed, the weather resisted each of the Valkyrian’s attempts to bring it under control, and the Agrarians cultivated monstrosities whose fruits were either unpalatable or had adverse effects! There was nothing redeemable to be found in the Arcania that Discord wrought!”

“And I do believe that he grasped that by the end of his reign. Chaos by its very nature resists having control asserted over it. What Discord was trying to achieve when he ‘borrowed’ management of Arcania was to improve everyone’s humdrum routine lifestyles by introducing a small degree of flair and excitement into their lives. But by generalizing the spread and effects of the chaos, people grew miserable in lieu of being joyful, so Discord sought to micromanage it and tailor it to everybody’s specific preferences. If he had the time necessary to complete such a monumental undertaking, history could have taken a very different turn for Arcania. Instead he tasted the rainbow of harmony and was set in stone. If he felt that his subjects deserved the effort required to add some spice to their lives, he would have resisted a lot harder than he did when you returned to reclaim your thrones. Otherwise he would not have yielded rulership of Arcania without putting you and your sister through the grinder” I explicated to the Princess, including what I speculated from his side of the story.

But I might as well have been talking to myself for all the good it did. Luna’s face was flat and unreadable, though her mercurial eyes spoke volumes that her countenance did not.

“We were never pleased with your similarities to the Lord of Chaos” Luna began, “When we first infiltrated thy dreams to take a closer measure of thy character, we were alarmed that you shared his proclivity for randomized change, even copying his gestures for it” She exhaled tiredly, “But in time, we came to appreciate the inherent beauty to be found in the constructs of your mind, even in its more chaotic manifestations. They were… fun to experience” She admitted somewhat bashfully.

I was hopeful, “And we can always enjoy those dreamscapes whenever our schedules permit. So does this mean you’ll lay off in antagonizing Discord? I don’t care for his bothersome personality, the same as most of us do… but Fluttershy vouches for him, and I value her judgment of others… even those as unbalanced as he is” Even if she has some difficulty acknowledging that some people are set in their obstinate ways.

“We are not done making our point, Zenith” Luna chided me, “Your interpretation of chaos had elements of rationality embedded into it. There was a method to the madness… whereas Discord brought arbitrary change and forced it upon others who had no desire to be a part of his experimentation. If he really wished to make chaos a positive aspect in our subjects’ lives, then he should have taken an individual approach to it. We do not fully trust him, nor do I feel we ever will. Perhaps it is our unfortunate history that prevents us from taking that step, but our interaction with that irritating man is thankfully limited to a few governmental functions and official balls with the nobles. You would have been a superior chaotic avatar” She murmured that last part.

I kneaded the flesh above the bridge of my nose, “Suit yourself, Princess. But we should not discount the likelihood that Discord’s very existence detracts from the Great Dissonance’s power” Heck, he might have even reduced the number of shards I’d have to isolate and contain.

“Or he is an extension of the Great Dissonance itself” Luna verbally parried, “I will be keeping my eye on him, regardless of this conversation”

“That seems like an exercise in unnecessary stress” I warned her, “Discord will only use that as an opportunity to troll you” As he’s already done, and with a slipshod dummy no less! Poor Luna… she’s going to bite off more than she can chew with him.

“Thy abundant confidence in our ability to adapt to shifting circumstances is heartening” The Princess dryly quipped, “We still retain a few surreptitious spells for cloaking our self from undue eyes. He will not be aware of our presence, anymore than the mouse is aware of a hawk observing it from above”

Interesting analogy, but I had the impression that Discord was one of the few people who looked up.

“Discord is more capable than any mouse” I told her, “Do not provoke his ire more than what is necessary to discover that there’s truth to my words. Buried somewhere in that crazed skull of his exists a sliver of humanity, which is adequate enough to covet companionship… even friendship. Fluttershy saw this potential within him and acted as his rehabilitator when no one else would, even if it might be to her own detriment” Her immense kindness is truly inspiring.

Luna let out a neutral huff, “What type of firearm did he craft for you?” She inquired, changing the subject.

I let it slide, knowing how dogged Luna could be with much of her deeply held opinions, “Here” I conjured its dream equivalent and tossed it to her, “It’s called a revolver. Though this version is powerful enough to earn it the Magnum designation. The ammunition is loaded into a revolving cylinder, hence the name. This one seems to chamber a .44 Magnum caliber cartridge, which is the diameter of the bullet being chambered. However, it’s significantly deadlier than a conventional .44 round, which is beefy to begin with, having both a faster bullet velocity and greater mass being discharged. If I were to fire this at a human being and score even a glancing hit on their extremities, that limb would shear clean off. Its capabilities exceed that function, but I won’t overwhelm you with such ballistic banalities” I listed its specifications, even though Luna didn’t possess the context to make sense of it. She had only seen representations of it in my mind, and feasibly the firearms that the men to the East had contrived.

Luna’s forehead wrinkled as she made out one of the details on the side of the barrel, “Is this… our sister? Why is she depicted in such a lewd bodily position?”

“Discord thought it would be amusing” Which was only half of the truth, since some deeply suppressed part of me thought it was amusing too. I respect and maybe even feel a notion of devotion to the venerable woman, but I could still have a lark, even if it came at her expense.

The Mistress of the Night ground her teeth together, “And you did not berate him for belittling our sibling in such a disrespectful way?”

“Disrespectful from your and likely his point of view perhaps” I replied, “But to me, it demonstrates that your sister can be the epitome of sensual allure. If she wanted to be, she could be this world’s version of the Goddess Aphrodite… in terms of sex appeal anyhow”

She was skeptical, “What could you possibly know of our sister’s voluptuary physicality?” And mayhaps was even a little jealous of how openly I extoled her sister’s appearance, if I wasn’t mistaken.

“More than you’d think” I riposted, “Did you know that your sister can be mind-blowingly seductive if she puts her back into it? Literally. Her posturing to me after Discord put something in her tea just to screw with me almost had me in paroxysms, and I was raised to be resistant to those kind of temptations!” I vociferated. Although whatever incense Celestia was burning did a disturbing job of chipping away at my inhibitions. If I hadn’t flushed the tanks of my magical reserves to turn myself intangible and escape her clutches, I shudder to envision what would have ensued. I imagine a drawn out process along the lines of death by one on one Snu-snu. I might die happy, but I’d still die.

“Discord did what?” Luna rumbled dangerously, apparently not minding the revelation that her sister could up the seductive charm in the most unanticipated of ways. Did she know of this beforehand perchance?

I wagged a hand in the air, “He’s already been punished sufficiently for it, I assure you. In the manner of mountains of paperwork and restricted magic to deal with it” I still wanted to slap him with a fish, but Celestia didn’t understand the Veggie Tales reference and therefore turned it down. Maybe one of these days I’d feed him a face full of trout.

Luna derided this disciplinary action, “We would not have been so lenient. Were it up to us to decide his punishment, he would wear an enchanted millstone around his neck that would impart a shock every time his thoughts strayed towards surfeit chaos”

“Harsh” I remarked, “But I can see where you’re coming from” Doubt it would discourage him though. If anything, he might actually enjoy such a thing.

She levitated the Magnum back over to me, even though such an action was meaningless here, “Do not let the killing potential of this weapon cloud your judgment, Zenith. The invention of firearms and their myriad uses on the battlefield has only served to augment the Gryphondrian nation’s arrogance, which is quite an accomplishment. Take it from us”

I received the ornately engraved revolver anyway, “Fanning the flames of my curiosity will not help me focus on my mission, Luna”

She was unrepentant, “You will have plenty of time to douse those flames when we send you to Gryphondria as one of our emissaries by the first month of the new year”

Okay, now she had officially made it worse, “You know what? I’m not even going to allow that to bother me” My Jimmies had been rustled, and I was discontent for it.

“Excellent” Luna said in a tone that was practically a smirk, “Now we request that you apprise us of the unexpected snag hindering your task of ensuring that war doth not occur between the settlers and the braves”

“Right” I groused, still not over having my curiosity get cock-blocked, “Applejack and I made it to Cherry Jubilee’s Ranch without incident. The Agent in question was very inviting of us and sat us down in her kitchen for some tea as we discussed the guests she was harboring in her upstairs guest room. She told us about the circumstances surrounding her finding them taking shelter in her orchard from a dangerous dust storm that had blown through there recently. Then she dropped a bombshell on us”

Luna’s face lowered, “Prithee. We do not know this word. What is a bombshell?”

“A shocking revelation” I defined for her, avoiding the morbid reasoning behind its etymology, “This one takes its form in that the daughter of the Buffalo Brave’s Chieftain is early into the first stages of pregnancy, and it’s heavily suspected to be Braeburn’s child… though neither of them know it yet” At least, that’s how I hoped it was. The situation was complicated enough as it was without their emotional noise being added to the equation.

Luna hid her surprise well, with it only manifesting as a slight twitch on her lower lip, “We see…” She uttered, “This could indeed change things”

I lifted an eyebrow, “How so?”

“My sister wanted you to bring Strongheart back to her people as a sign of goodwill, with the ulterior motive of convincing her to speak against the mounting hostility towards the settlers, who we believe are innocent of these killings and kidnappings”

“Can we be perfectly sure of the settler’s innocence though?” I asked, playing the devil’s advocate for a moment, “Whoever these outlaws are, they must be basing themselves near settler towns and dressing to seem the part. How else could the Braves accuse them of these violent acts?”

“Sound logic” Luna acknowledged, “But faulty. We have eyes and ears in each of the active towns in the frontier lands. None have reported any mass groups of armed men passing through. It might be that they are making their domicile somewhere out in the desert wastes. Though it’s reasonable to expect that they’ll occasionally send a man into one of the towns to retrieve supplies to sustain themselves and their hostages. It would challenging to detect them that way, as strangers passing through are a common occurrence”

“Alright then” I absorbed this, “So how does Strongheart’s pregnancy alter things? In your opinion, that is?”

“Our sister would still want you to go ahead with the original plan” Luna anticipated, before cracking a thin smile, “But she is not the only figure of authority in this land. We would have you hear what we wish you to do”

I motioned for her to go on.

“Strongheart is betrothed to another in her tribe” Luna stated that which I already knew, “But if the child being knitted in her womb was sired by Braeburn, then they must end this arrangement with haste”

“Wouldn’t that just cause further friction within the Buffalo Brave’s ranks? Especially if I’m present to argue for this?” I could handle myself around bloodthirsty men. But I’d rather not have to lethally defend myself if I didn’t have to, and the only way to stop men with the bloodlust in them was to kill them.

“Perhaps” Luna conceded without worry, “But the symbolic value of a wedding between Braeburn and Strongheart could be crucial in maintaining peace between settlers and natives in the long run. And Strongheart’s father, Chief Thunderfeet, is a staunch traditionalist. If he learns that his grandchild is a product of the union between Arcanian and Buffalo Tribesmen, he will agree to an annulment of her previous betrothal or bring dishonor to the memory of his ancestors”

“And if he’s pissed at finding out that his daughter’s purity was ‘defiled’ by an Arcanian? Or if her betrothed learns about this? They’ll be absolutely enraged” I posited to her, “I can only see that ending with blood being spilled” That is, if Applejack doesn’t save them both the trouble of bashing Braeburn’s skull in first.

“Thou shalt be close by and on hand to ensure that this scenario doth not happen” Luna stated casually. I was unsure if that implied assessment of my abilities should have been flattering or portentous.

“Regardless of whatever course of action you choose to pursue, the ultimate goal remains distinct…” The Princess intoned, “Prevent loss of life between native and settler. Find who is responsible for the atrocities being done to the Buffalo Braves and deal with them appropriately. We suggest dragging them before the Chieftain with their lips loosened so as the clear the settlers’ name”

“I’ll keep that in mind” I replied honestly, “Before I wake though, I would like to consult you on something sensitive. As in… between us”

For a moment Luna was perplexed, “What concerns do you have for our appraisal, Zenith?”

I scratched idly at my chin, “How versed are you in dream related matters?”

The unamused expression I received from her was my answer.

I rumbled with my throat as an aside, “Right… stupid question. I need your input about a dream I had earlier on the train ride to Magiville from the Krystal Kingdom. Were you conducting your dream magic at the time?”

Luna shook her head, “We only actively monitor the dreams of other whilst at night, for that is when the majority are asleep. So no, we could not inform you if there was anything out of the ordinary about thy slumber”

“Hmm…” I vocalized tentatively, debating on whether I should bother following through with this and settling on just doing it, “I had a dream that afternoon, a very peculiar dream”

“All of the dreams attributed to you are peculiar, Zenith” Luna remarked jokingly, having seen and even participated in many of them herself.

“Laugh it up Luna,” I said, irked at how dismissive she was being, “but this was no ordinary or even extraordinary dream. This was… extremely different”

She motioned for me to go on.

“You see… in this dream of mine, I was another person. Not myself as I usually am” I explained carefully, “But it is still me in control… for the most part anyhow. The same goes for my thoughts and emotions”

“Thou keepeth emotions underneath that stoic exterior? Color us surprised” Luna remarked playfully.

“Not helping, Princess” I hissed, completely serious, “So I’m this person whose body conforms to my will like a well worn glove. There are instances of thoughts and inner commentary that isn’t me… but isn’t atypical to my character either. I was also in a world that’s more or less the same as the one I originated from, though with substantial disparities politically and socially. The government is domineering and overly controlling of every aspect to its citizens’ lives. There are innumerable cameras, devices that visually monitor areas within their field of view, mounted everywhere. If the person on the viewing end sees anything that they think goes contrary to the government in any way, they flag them for their superiors and the offending party tends to ‘disappear’, only to wind up in some government owned facility to be reeducated and indoctrinated in the ways of the state. They either come out changed… or in a body bag” If the government even gives them the respect of a proper burial over a cremation, that is. That world had some screwed up dark secrets.

“A troubling society to be sure” Luna commented, “Though what makes you confident that this is more than a mere product of fancy?”

That Luna could speculate that all of the negative details from that dream could be born from my mind was vaguely affronting, but I could understand why she might believe that.

“It was more visceral than any of my prior dreams, like I was actually there in the flesh… or someone else’s flesh I should be saying” I corrected myself, “What bothers me the most though… is that there is continuity to this dream. I’m reminded through others that I had done something that left ripples in the world. Something that I swear I had done in another dream… on the very night before I met you and your sister” The softness of Octavia’s girlishly adorned sofa still echoed in my mind, along with how ticked off Daring was with me for spending the night at her place. I feel kind of like a jackass for not considering how jealous she might get given her blossoming affections towards me, but it was that or otherwise I never would have been able to pursue my relationship with the alluring, coffee loving musician whom I cherished highly.

I resumed my expounding, “Every so often, one of my opinions about a detail in the world or on my avatar would clash with the inborn sentiments of the person that I’m controlling, resulting in a pinchy sensation in my chest. In rare incidents, there’s bleed over from our personalities and it’s impossible to be certain who holds the reins then. The name of the person eludes me, and I was too focused on the instinctual objective at hand to uncover what it is. But I felt his thoughts occasionally echoing in our head, I felt his satisfaction when I personally ended the life of a man who had murdered his father under orders from the government, there was even some lust that he suppressed when encountering a fellow runner whom he was on tolerably familiar terms with” Though the woman was kind of cute in my opinion as well, “What we definitely shared however, was a desire to stick it to the man, so to speak” And boy did we. With our message to the public, there was bound to be some major political waves.

Luna digested this for a minute before making a request, “May we examine you?”

I consented to let her look into this with a nod. Luna shuffled closer to me before hovering her hands just over where my temples were. Though she casts no spell (so far as I could tell), I feel something akin to her aura probing at my own intrinsic nature. Naturally, being the way I was, there was automatic and persistent resistance on my part as I pushed back opposite to her influence. Luna made an inarticulate grunt and politely asked that I lower my defenses so she could accomplish whatever she was about to do. I acquiesced, seeing no point in making a fuss out of it. It was an indescribably queer feeling to have her magic pulsing throughout my quintessence. The closest I could liken it to was being submerged in electrostatic, ice cold water without the wetness to accompany it. The fibers of my being were plucked one by one until one of them produced a dissonance that was more akin to an intuitive impression than a sound.

Luna frowned as she finished conducting whatever deep scan of me that was necessary to discern what the issue was, “This is… unprecedented. Your spirit has a drifting anchorage to this astral plane, Zenith”

I crooked my head and sent her a dry look, “Can you put that in simpler descriptors, Luna? The parlances of your subtler magicks are still somewhat of an enigma to me”

She expelled air through her nostrils in an aggravated snort and made hand gestures to aid her in getting her point across, “Your corporeal body permanently lingers in this world, but your incorporeal being… your essence… is able to detach and contemplate the immeasurable vastness that I now know exists beyond the cosmic veil because of you. Based on what you’ve imparted to me, your soul seems to gravitate towards company most similar to yourself in mannerisms, latching onto other beings living in these separate worlds. These dreams you speak of… are not specifically dreams. You are…” She paused as she thought of a fitting name for it, “Void Walking”

‘First a Starwalker… Now a Voidwalker. And I used to bemoan my life being ordinary’ I mused. I couldn’t complain about that being true today.

“Okay… I can… I can get used to this, I guess” I reassured myself. My spirit was only departing my body and co-inhabiting it with someone else’s body in another world, no biggie. I probably should avoid informing her that Discord is a deciding factor in the reason why I would be in for a whole heap of these not dreams in the future. She hated him sufficiently by now. No need for me to loan her additional kindling for that fire.

“We envy thy composure when faced with such unsettling news” Luna told me, perhaps to cheer me up, “You are without doubt the most unique individual to grace our world, and other worlds too it appears. I used to question the wisdom of the watchers above when you came to us. This portentous, wisecracking individual who was suppressing so much from our higher senses so effortlessly. We distrusted you then…” She was moderately shamefaced.

I didn’t hold it against her, “You made the right call, Luna. Trust is to be earned, not given freely without performing a background check, which is what you did”
“And you have more than earned my trust, Zenith” She affirmed with a heartwarming tone, “You’ll be pleased to know that I’ve learned a few things from my time with you. You’ve shown us that our adherence to our usual regimen is too rigid. We must adapt to the changing circumstances as they present themselves, as you do. It is not often we can say that we are caught off guard by your unorthodox tactics in the ring of honor”

“I still feel a bit guilty about backhanding you with a feint” I admitted, remembering that fast paced and furious bout (Which all of them were). Every Royal Guard present sucked in their breath and went tense as wooden planks as my underhanded blow knocked the sovereign of the night off of her feet with my blade leveled at her throat before she could recover. Though to be fair… our positions were often reversed. She did have a millennium worth of experience over me, after all.

Luna laughed and dismissed it, “It was a duel, and anything goes. The victor of the match must employ whatever advantage they have to secure their victory. Honor means next to nothing on an actual battlefield, which you no doubt understand as I do, having fought the Acolytes of Chaos inside the rotten den they slithered out of to wreak havoc upon the land” There was an unexpected amount of leftover venom in her voice, even though that cult had been defunct for centuries now.

“That organization is dead… Selene” I declared, using her birth name again, “I saw to it alongside Maelstrom and her men, all of whom fought like Lions” With their valiant assistance, the Acolytes never stood the ghost of a chance.

“We remember Maelstrom dearly” Luna recalled fondly, “She had bravery in her that went above and beyond her responsibility as a leader of soldiers. She opposed those politicians in the midst of her own people in how they should be treating those who literally dwelled beneath them, even though she received little else but scorn and ridicule from the callous Senate, whose members were either milksops or self inflated narcissists. She was a woman who would butt heads with her own father, the most respected soldier and Commander that the Valkyrians had in those days, and would continue to do so with her hotheaded brother once he assumed the mantle”

“Did you know that she spoke of you, often in fact?” She asked out of the left field.

“By name?” I reacted, dumbfounded. My identity was not for Maelstrom to reveal!

“No… she hoarded the pleasure of knowing who you were to herself, regardless of how hard we pried for it” Luna put my fears to rest, “When we inquired into what inspired her to fight for justice, even if it brought her into conflict with her own blood. She made reference to a man with eyes as red as blood who had a profound impact on her, despite not knowing him for a prolonged period of time and with him initially being her foil in the town of Mirrimare. He helped her to realize that living up to her father’s expectations of her was a fruitless endeavor, and that her real loyalties should be to the creed of the Skyborn, which stressed integrity and virtue even if the world was unwelcoming to such values. Looking back, it should have been obvious to us who this figure was… crimson eyes are ultimately a rare feature amongst our people” She recognized in hindsight.

“She guided us in a foreign country where Starswirl could not” The Princess went on, “Showing us the lay of the land while simultaneously keeping tabs on her brother’s movements. When the moment was opportune, she led us to the mount where the heads of the three clans were face to face with the Windigo menace” There was a flash of reminiscent excitement in her eyes that I had come to associate with battle lust, “The struggle with the Windigoes was fierce, as we had interrupted their feeding process and those creatures did not take kindly to being denied. But with our newfound power and the strength of our combined magic, the icy spirits were vanquished and the auxiliary figureheads of the clans were saved. They were immensely grateful for-” Her face flushed, “We beg your forgiveness. Judging by thy expression, this is a tale that thou hast acquainted thyself with”

“No, no. Don’t apologize” I chuckled, “You have a gift for weaving a tale I’ve already read about in such a way that I want to hear it all over”

She opened her mouth to respond but must have sensed something, for her mood dropped slightly, “Our time for discussion is at its conclusion. Dawn approaches… and with it, new trials”

Her words proved true, as the blank canvas began to splinter and crack as lurid streams of light burst through the gaps in ever increasing intensity. In milliseconds there was enough of it to drown out my view of the Princess.

“Remember our council regarding the star-crossed lovers!” Luna called out to me, her voice sounding distant, “There is more than one way to shear a sheep!”

“It’s to skin a cat, Luna!” I called back to her, undergoing an odd need to correct her. I couldn’t discern her response as the remnants of the black mosaic splintered into innumerable pieces.

⁂

The first rays of daylight struck me in the face like a mace from the heavens, and I unleashed a groan to match the intensity of my displeasure. I flung the sheets off of me and got up to stretch, letting out a yawn wide enough to swallow several flies in the process. If I had to guess, I’d approximate the time of day to be around six or seven in the morning. The muted crowing of a rooster at some nearby farm only reinforced this.

Without further ado, I got to stripping down and putting on my dressings in anticipation for today. I inelegantly stuffed Rarity’s elegant nightwear into my adventure pack before reaching into the drawer where I had stowed my gun belt and strapped it on next to my other accoutrements, taking care to twist it around in such a way as to hide the shiny chrome bullets studding the false leather loops lining the majority of the right side. I doubted that it was meant to kill werewolves or the like (‘Do they even have that breed of monster here?’), at least concerning the color of the casing, but they looked neat. I also idly wondered how Discord managed to get the false leather to secrete its own natural oils, for the belt was never without its sheen.

As my waking mind was in the middle of getting back up and in running condition, an important reminder buzzed itself onto my mental viewing screen. My magical senses reached out and scanned the guest room adjacent to my quarters. The spells I had cast yesterday were still in effect, though their magical fuel reserves were only half and hour away from depletion. I could have tinkered with the spell matrices to siphon off of the ambient magical energy in the environment, but those enchantments were always tedious and time consuming to put in place, so I forwent them. My scans came back negative, with no signs of immediate activity having been recorded over the previous night. In other words, all was quiet on the western front.

This meant that Applejack had not stirred yet, which was both cause for relief and concern. The stunning spells I had cast on her had worn off by now, so the chances of her waking before I did were significant. I must have underestimated how tired Applejack must’ve been from the trip here, for when I cautiously opened the door to check in on her, I could see her slumbering form atop the mattress, her every breath causing the sheets to rise and fall. I didn’t recall tucking the cowgirl in before, so I could deduce that she had woken up while I was sleeping, realized the folly of making trouble when everyone was in dreamland, and went back to sleep herself. I could only hope that her ire had adequately cooled to avoid murdering her cousin the second she laid eyes on him. With how pigheaded I knew the woman could be from past experience, I wasn’t exactly holding my breath.

Grabbing my hat from the top of the lamp, I casually flipped it into the air to land on my head as I strode out of the door and into the hallway. A faint gurgle came from my stomach as it notified me that I was feeling peckish. I could hear activity in the house, so it was clear to me that I was a late riser. The smell of bacon being cooked on a stovetop assaulted my nostrils before I had set foot on the steps leading to the bottom of the stairway, worsening my hunger by a sizable margin. I subconsciously increased my pace and hightailed it to the kitchen. Standing in front of the stove and monitoring the progress of the bacon was Cherry Jubilee, who was humming a delightful tune to herself as she worked. It evoked memories of when my maternal grandmother used to whip up a scrumptious breakfast just for me when I visited for the summer. There was an unfastened cardboard package sitting on the counter where it was convenient for her, so I knew that she was cooking in bulk.

‘A wealthy businesswoman like herself and yet she’s still considerate enough to selflessly provide for the guests living under her roof.’ She had me intrigued, to say the least. She would be registered on my ‘Persons of Interest’ list for certain.

No one else was in the kitchen and the table showed no signs of usage, so Braeburn had either had an early start to his workday or was not yet awake himself. I moved into the range of Cherry’s peripherals and she acknowledged my presence with a nod. She had traded her old dress from yesterday for a rancher’s outfit consisting of a white shirt with a red corduroy vest with cherries embroidered into the cloth.

“Well goooood morning, Zenith!” She chirped, enthusiastically elongating the positive word, “Hope y’all slept fine!”

“I sure did” I averred as I took the same spot at the table as I did the day before, “Learned a few things while I was at it too”

“It’s not often that dreams are a learning experience!” She twisted her neck to smile at me, “Though for once, I can say the same mahself. I had a lovely idea come to me last night. It ought to help out with your plans to return our mutual friends to Appleloosa while still coming off as legitimate to anyone poking their nose in where it don’t belong… like those wretched Flim Flam brothers” She muttered darkly.

This got my heed immediately, “I’d like to hear the details of this plan of yours” The presence of the Flim Flam brothers here in Dodge Junction would have to wait. It was auspicious that my companion wasn’t up and about yet. I doubt Applejack would be too thrilled to hear about them either.

Cherry deemed the crisp state of the bacon to be sufficient and slid a few slices onto four plates already loaded to the edges with eggs prepared sunny side up along with corned beef hash. I was practically salivating as I beheld this amazing old school breakfast bounty, and from the smug look on Cherry’s face, she knew it. I’d yet to see hide or hair of Strongheart, so intent was she on remaining in her room, so I interpreted this to mean that Braeburn was not yet out in the fields. Either Cherry’s workers clocked in later than I did during my stint at Sweet Apple Acres, or she was purposely holding him back.

“Here you are, sugah” She said, carrying all four platters and sliding mine over to me, “Eat up. You’ll be needing your strength for the journey to Appleloosa”

I wrapped a dining napkin around my neck like a proper gentleman, “Journey? What about your other guests? I can’t leave here empty handed”

“If all goes well,” She finished setting the table before taking her own chair, “you won’t be. Has Applejack awoken?”

“No” I used my fork to begin cutting into the eggs, “For someone who is usually whacking away at her apple trees before the crack of dawn, she’s very sleepy this morning” Almost suspiciously so, “Why do you ask me this?”

“Because she’ll play a pivotal role in discouraging Braeburn to refuse accompanying you to Appleloosa on a wagon train escorting livestock” She explained between bites of bacon.

I chomped into the egg, using the napkin to wipe the yolk dribbling down my cheek, “What does herding have to do with my objective here?”

“A pretense for my employees to protect my assets, is what it is” She answered, biting daintily into some hash, “Not a ten minute’s ride from here is another ranch belonging to a business associate of mine named Tagalong Thorpe. He’s a kindly man, but despite his years he never developed the wisdom to discern that most of his ‘friends’ are anything but friends. Otherwise, he’d drop his ill advised, one sided dealings with the Flim Flam brothers like a bad habit”

She paused to swallow before resuming her speech, “You look like you recognize the name of those distasteful con artists”

“I do” I confirmed, “Albeit I don’t know them personally. Applejack ranted once or twice about them after a few bottles of hard apple cider though. It’s impressive how creative she can get with her curses while still keeping them kid friendly as to not corrupt her sister or get her curious about the anatomy of the human body before Cheerilee can touch upon that subject in depth” I still remember how awkward my formal and informal education about that was.

Jubilee laughed, “Oh, I can imagine that with enough of her inhibitions removed, she’d put salty seadogs to shame with her tongue!”

“Indeed” I asseverated, “I was bumfuzzled as to who these people she ranted about were before she told me this story about when they tried to take over her family’s farm during the opening days of cider selling season. She made reference to this event taking place after an incident of personal weakness that she had no desire to talk about” Which I assumed was the one that happened here, “As efficient a cider making unit as the Apple family based at the fringes of Magiville was, they just simply did not have the stores of cider necessary to meet the town’s demands. Then ‘Outta the blue, these fellers came ridin’ in on some fancy wheeled contraption spittin’ steam and fillin’ the air with the grindin’ of gears, spewin’ some nonsense about their automated machine bein’ able to mass produce all the cider our customers could ever drink’ as she put it”

Jubilee tittered, “And here I was thinking you could never emulate the rough and rugged Agrarian dialect!”

I shared her mirth, “It helps to have a keen ear for voices. Anyway, the Apples are standoffish towards these uninvited newcomers, which isn’t made any warmer thanks to the threat the brothers’ machine meant to their cider business. The Apples stand proudly and declare that their handmade cider will never be outshone by anything squelched out of the cold, unfeeling udders of a machine. The brothers notice the dissatisfaction of their customer base and take advantage of the cowgirl’s hubris to issue them a rigged business arrangement”

I trailed off for a second to receive the proffered cup of cherry juice from my generous hostess and depleted its contents in a single gulp, “The Flim Flam brothers initially wanted to ‘partner up’ with Apple family by turning them into their supplier while they created the cider with machine. The catch to this deal is that the future quantities of cider are to be sold under the Flim Flam label and the Apples would only receive twenty five percent of the profits. As a fellow businesswoman, you probably understand that this uneven share of the revenues is unacceptable for long term business viability, and Applejack tells them this” I do not believe the Apples would ever accept being relegated to mere stock suppliers to begin with.

I set aside what’s left of my breakfast as I commit to the rest of the tale, “Since the Apples wouldn’t join them, the Flim Flam brothers alternated to beating them instead, and spend most of the next day doing so with their machine, outmatching the meager production of the small but tight knit family. When Applejack discovers that the conniving brothers had been skimming from their apple trees to make their product without their approval, she forbids them from selling their cider at all and commands them to get out. Which miffs both their customers and their rivals alike, though for differing reasons” Rainbow Dash was especially disappointed, with fate denying her so much as a sip of cider at every turn. It was actually quite funny to hear the disheartened despair in her voice, though I obviously kept this to myself.

Jubilee watched me raptly, “Retorting that the Apples are afraid of a little fair competition, the brothers goad Applejack into accepting a bet with high stakes. If she and her kin could produce a greater number of cider barrels than they could in the span of an hour, they would leave town and never attempt to sell apple themed products again. However, if the Apples lost… they would have to fork over a portion of their orchard and give the Flim Flam brothers exclusive rights to the cider selling biz. The matriarch of the Apple family was steamed that her granddaughter would risk a significant amount of their orchard for the sake of one-upmanship, but was also confident in their superiority versus some clanking work of metal and shrill whistles”

“So the competition was set. The Apples were on one end,” I tapped twice on the tabletop in emphasis, “and Flim Flams on the other. To further prove that they were willing to go through with the bet, the Apples graciously allowed the brothers an exception to use a section of their orchard for the purposes of the event. Applejack would knock down the fruits from the trees, young Apple bloom would collect the fallen goodies, Granny Smith would sort the quality apples from the inadequate ones, and Macintosh would have the dual task of powering the press and casking the cider” I said with admiration for the stolid man.

Macintosh was truthfully remarkably talented at multitasking, “The family ironically went to work like a well oiled machine, producing a single cask of cider within ten minutes. Unfortunately, in that timeframe, the Flim Flam brothers had rolled out three casks of ciders, and that was with their machine switched on mid settings. Applejack’s circle of friends saw this and could no longer stand waiting on the sidelines, so they voiced their readiness to chip in. Flim and Flam wanted to proclaim this a violation of the rules so they could win by default, but Twilight pointed out that the rules of the bet stated that it was Applejack and her family against the brothers and they were honorary family members, to which Applejack tearfully concurred”

I grinned at Twilight’s moment of cleverness, “Evelyn, that is the mayor, validated this loophole and the competition got exciting. Twilight’s administrative skills manifested themselves here are she assigned Fluttershy the task of knocking loose extra apples, Pinkie the task of collecting those extra apples, Rarity the task of sorting those apples with her eye for quality, and Rainbow the task of adding her energy to support Macintosh’s efforts. Twilight herself freed Macintosh from the responsibility of the casking with her magic, which was guaranteed optimal efficiency in that niche. Sensing the threat that the increase in laborers represented, the brothers made their first, and fatal mistake. They foolishly set their machine to max production and in doing so, overrode the installed automatic quality assurance mechanisms that ensured that the machine produced acceptable quality cider. The vacuum device on the machine began to indiscriminately suck up everything along with the apples; twigs, branches, leaves, and even rocks!”

Jubilee winced at the idea, since she was about to sip from her glass of cherry juice as I imparted that to her, engendering her to change her mind and put the glass down, “Sorry, I should have timed that better. But this went about as well as you’d predict. The brothers from out of town won, though not by a significantly large number of caskets. Applejack, bless her honest soul, admitted that the brothers won fair and square and relented to them their cider selling rights. But… the story isn’t over yet. By sacrificing quality in order to multiple quantity, the customers who had been eagerly awaiting to indulge their cider related vices had one taste of the foul drinks that were laced with a helping of nature and spat it out. Needless to say, the decision to boycott Flim Flam apple related products in the town of Magiville was unanimous… so they would find no future profits to be made there, even if they placed quality over quantity again”

“Once more demonstrating how business savvy she was, Applejack reminded the brothers of the longstanding costs associated with maintaining an acreage of orchard that size and how their bank accounts would suffer for it if they could not squeeze a single bit from it. The brothers grumbled and attempted to sell it back to her at an increased price to sate their greed, but Applejack scoffed at the two shysters and turned her back on them. Knowing that they had lost this fight through and through, they returned it to her family at no charge and booked it out of town to swindle some other place out of their hard earned coins” The best part of the end result was that the Apples finally had enough cider to satisfy everyone, even Rainbow.

“Unluckily for us, they chose to do it here” Jubilee moaned, “But I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised”

“I observed some men loading their crates of fertilizer onto the train as we came in” I elected to share with her, “Their loads seemed to be overstuffed, as one of the crates tumbled from a man’s arms and made a solid noise unbecoming of a crate that supposedly filled with fertilizers”

“That is odd” Jubilee acknowledged with a frown, before shaking her noggin, “But it’s probably nothing. Using magic to enhance the soil that nature provides us with is folly anyhow, though I would expect no less from those two money grubbing dunderheads. That crate was likely their refuse from a failed enchantment that they’d intend to sell at market regardless”

I wasn’t quite convinced that it was nothing, but let it go for now, “I wouldn’t put that past them. So have these unspoken arrangements with this Thorpe person been finalized? Or do I need to speak with the man first?”

Cherry dabbed at her grease stained lips with a napkin, “Oh I had one of my ranch hands deliver the message to him already, though talking to him in person wouldn’t be amiss”

“What does this plan of yours entail anyhow?” I investigated, “While I enjoy suspense as much as the next person, I revel having knowledge of what I’m getting into more so”

“As I’ve told you, you’re going on a journey to Appleloosa. But it won’t be via your typical train…” She waited, “if’n you catch my meaning”

I did not, “Need some context here, Cherry”

She breathed out a sigh, “Time for a little storytelling of my own. When Appleloosa had its first altercation with the Buffalo Braves, they began to experience some severe food shortages, as the Braves started forcibly burning down portions of their apple groves to free up the stampeding trail they used in the far past. Many people here in Dodge Junction had family members living in that town, and the natives frequently harassed and preyed on the train lines to that region. So we settled for the old fashion method of shipping them supplies by way of a wagon train” She clucked with her tongue, “The trip lasts about a week, and that’s without the distractions and difficulties that are known to plague wagon columns. It was a darn shame too, for by the time they got there, the issue had been solved and peace declared between settler and native”

“And history is set to repeat itself, it seems” I groused flatly, “So how does this wagon train thing aid me in spiriting Braeburn back to his hometown?”

“I was getting to that, sugah” She admonished me, “With their friends and family in jeopardy once again, the folks of Dodge Junction are organizing another wagon train to bolster Appleloosa’s fortitude. Tagalong Thorpe had vociferously stated that he was going to contribute a fair amount of his cattle to this drive, and he’s often a man of his word”

She smiled a jaunty smile, “I happen to have my hands dipped in a lot of cookie jars. In fact, half of Thorpe’s cattle are legally my cattle, and so somebody has to accompany the wagon train to ensure that my investment reaches the town safely. Why, I imagine that it would require a few people under my employ to accomplish this. For instance, yourself… and Braeburn”

“I like the way you think, Cherry” I applauded her, “But will Braeburn agree to this assignment?”

“He’s been savoring my cherry pie long enough that he’s indebted to me, although I would only stoop to extorting a favor from him as a last resort” She sounded abashed, “Bless his earnest, hardworking heart. He’s much like his cousin in that regard. But Braeburn can be pretty thick in the skull at times. He won’t suspect the real meaning behind this…” Her eyes drifted questioningly towards mine, “His beloved however, might”

“She does not necessitate coaxing” I put forward, “The second she finds out that her man is pulled back into the danger zone, she’ll either attempt to sway him from his perceived duties to you and his town, or she’ll stick by his side”

She closed her eyes, “Us liking the other’s reasoning is mutual, Zenith” She nodded slowly, “And I’ve seen how she dotes on him when she thinks I’m not looking too. She won’t run the other way. The only prerequisite is clinching Braeburn’s cooperation”

“Then we are of a single mind” I levitated my plate over to the sink after forking the remainder of the food into my gullet, “Leave the coaxing part to myself and my companion. Where is he now?”

“Spending the next hour with his romantic partner as per my commands, doin’ Celestia knows what, before he has his breakfast and officially hops to it” Jubilee answered, “He wanted to finish harvesting the southwest tracts of my orchard, but I saw that he was plumb tuckered from doing that the night before, so I allotted him another hour to rest. I can’t come up with additional excuses to anchor him in the house without making either of them suspicious though, so you should be quick in getting him on board with the plan. The wagons will depart from the staging grounds south of the train station at ten o’clock tonight!”

‘Never been part of a wagon train before. Ought to be charmingly rustic’ I thought up the end words in Fancypant’s voice, which should have illustrated how I was secretly, and classily, excited for this.

I was about to speak when my senses were suddenly and violently assaulted, inducing me to jolt back in my seat and hold a hand to my head.

“What’s wrong!?” Jubilee exclaimed, her features contorted in anxious fear. From the recognition on her face, she had a good guess as to who it was.

“It’s Applejack. She’s-…arrgh” I groaned as another strike viciously electrified my senses, “She’s awake, and raging like a bull inside of a china shop from the feel of it. I need to run some damage control before she breaks loose. I’ll be back in a few minutes!”

I rushed out of the kitchen, leaving a flustered Cherry behind as I flew up the stairs three steps at a time. I prayed that the hasty sound of my footfalls weren’t detectable from down the wing where Braeburn and Strongheart were shacked up, but had no time to reflect on it. I severed the spell from my senses, essentially deactivating it as Applejack’s next ram caused hairline fractures in the wood of the door. With my spell no longer reinforcing the door’s integrity, it wouldn’t be more than two or three impacts away from being pried off of its hinges. So gathering up my courage, I timed the cowgirl’s next charge on the door and flung it wide just as she was about to make contact. The startled woman that passed through the entrance had too much momentum in her step to cease her reckless charge and ended up plowing into the hallway wall. She let out an ‘Oof!’ and rebounded into my arms.

“Morning, Applejack” I greeted her with a tranquil voice, “I’ve got news you should hea-”

She cut me off by whacking the back of her head into my nose before pulling out of my grip as I stumbled back. I felt a warm liquid dribbling down my left nostril and experimentally swabbed at it with an index finger. My finger came away bloody, and I stared at it mutely for a moment, remembering that I was still squishy enough to bleed when struck sufficiently. A few feet from me, and glaring at me with a fury I’d rarely seen in the past, was a red faced Applejack, who was breathing heavily from the exertion of repeatedly colliding with a magically barricaded door.

Despite the injury to my person, I wasn’t even mad. If anything, I was impressed that she had it in her.

‘I probably deserved that’ I mentally inferred, ‘I did cast the spell that knocked her out’ There were debts to be settled here.

I wiped my nose dry with a sleeve to stem the blood flow, “Not bad, AJ. It’s not everyday that someone manages to literally bloody my nose. Did you get it out of your system? Cause we’ve got a few things we have to do before ten o’clock rolls around”

Applejack apparently hadn’t purged her system of anger, as she wordlessly sprinted forward at me with purposes that could only be described as belligerent, vocalizing a battle cry that would have been discouraging for the unversed. I saw the haymaker coming from a country mile off and intercepted it by inserting my forearm at the fulcrum point of her swing.

“You only get one free shot, Applejack. Now stand down and cool your jets,” I reiterated firmly, “or you’ll get a taste of why the Acolyte’s assassins all failed to deep six me” I warned her.

Somewhere in the unfathomable vacancy of my brain, a familiar theme tune to a fighting game inexplicably began to play itself.

Ever the iron willed one, Applejack ignored this advice and attempted another punch, this one aimed at my midsection. I spun around it while wrapping my leg underneath hers, applying force to the back of her shirt collar with an elbow, and tripping her up. She fell face forward, growled in discontent, and scrambled onto her feet for a second go at me. I parried a straight cross punch downward and caught her the follow up attack by her wrist, allowing me to push her away from me and close the gap. I averted a jab to my ribs by parrying to the side, exposing her own ribs to a retaliatory slap that wouldn’t hurt her, but keep her on her toes. I had the urge to lecture her on her mistakes as we sparred (possibly instilled in me by Luna, who did the same whenever we dueled), but didn’t want to chance cementing her umbrage with me. I was no mentor anyway.

The next three offensive moves were met with similar results as I utilized either blocks, parries, sidesteps, or a combination of two of those three to foil her. Applejack put a lot of oomph into her swings, pivoting with her hips to impart the most power to her strikes. But the downside to that was that she displayed a paltry measure of finesse, committing all she had to her attacks while leaving herself open in the process. She seemed to be a brute force kind of gal with single mindedness combat wise, and needed allies to protect her flanks or else she would be vulnerable. It made sense, as she typically had her friends to back her up when events got gritty. But that was not the case presently, and it showed as I embarrassed her regularly.

Growing frustrated, she switched up her strategy by mixing kicks with punches, each with all of her considerable Agrarian muscle thrown behind them. She was admittedly swifter than I credited her with being a minute ago, but that mattered little in the tight spaces of the hallway. Blocking Applejack’s kicks were like withstanding bucks from an irate donkey. They had the impetus behind them necessary to budge me from my solid stance, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to absorb her unfocused flurry of blows without giving into the impulse to return some of my own to her pressure points. I adjusted my fighting stances as I saw fit and maneuvered strategically to prevent this tantrum of hers from spilling into the other wings. We never strayed longer than ten feet from our original starting position.

The apple farmer may have been ferociously assaulting me, but in her mind she had an acceptable reason for it, so I tolerated this exercise in stress relief for now. In some ways I admired how she didn’t hesitate to act when she perceived the need to do so, though her judgment could have benefitted from some polishing. I saw an opportunity to end this scuffle as Applejack unwisely launched herself into a flying kick directed at my face. I seized her by the thigh of her outstretched leg and used her own momentum against her, rotating in place and slamming her into the floorboards, effectively neutralizing the livid cowgirl. The action jumbled the contents on a hallway table a couple yards from us, throwing several faded family photographs out of alignment.

‘Finish her!’ My inner commentary commanded in an imitation of Shao Kahn’s voice.

‘Shut up brain’ Though it did enunciate a pertinent argument.

With the woman dazed, I flipped her over so her stomach was kissing the ground. I tore at the length of rope that she left coiled on her belt and bound her hands behind her back after wrestling with her for their ownership, “Stop struggling” I adjured with aggravation evident in my tone, “I will truss you up like a Thanksgiving turkey if I have to!”

I had her securely pinned in place with a knot that clamped her wrists together that I had researched in my off time. With half of my weight immobilizing her legs with one knee and the other half on her spine, she was hard pressed to wiggle her way free. Never the less, it did not stop her from trying, and the way her recumbent body wiggled when under duress was almost sensual. A recessed aspect of me had a forbidden thought that this whole thing was pretty kinky, but I shoved that in the iron maiden of self restraint as soon as it manifested.

She screeched with futility as she struggled with her bindings, “Damn you, Zenith! Why’d you get in mah way!?” She demanded, her cheek smushed to the wood grains of the floor.

“Because you were in mine” I retorted, “If I allowed you to have words with your cousin in public about how he’s been conducting his love life, you’d put our mission here at risk. Thanks to Miss Jubilee, I have a hunch that he and Strongheart are very likely being hunted by parties with less noble intentions than ours. Causing a scene like you were about to do might have tipped any who were listening off, and I would not tolerate that. You forced my hand, Applejack”

She was still, “I’m stunned that ya’d turn on me like that”

I couldn’t hold back a witticism from escaping my mouth, “I believe that was the point” I deadpanned.

It took her a moment to comprehend that, and when she did she was not amused, “This ain’t no joke ya consarned lout! You had no right to interfere! It was Apple family business!”

So I wasn’t considered extended family to her like her other friends? I was hurt by that, though not grievously, “And what about the Crown’s business? Is that somehow not as important? Because there are some five thousand settlers down south who’d disagree with you once the natives found out their Chieftain’s daughter was in the ‘enemy’s’ clutches because you couldn’t restrain yourself for ten damn minutes”

At that she slackened in her bindings, “I hadn’t thought of that” She admitted in a softer tone, “But I need to speak with mah cuz, Zenith. One way or another”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m all for you speaking with your cousin, though for reasons of my own” I offered as consolation.

She was skeptical of this, “Why’d ya suddenly change yer mind?”

“After putting you to bed, Jubilee and I bandied words over a glass of wine or two” I filled her in on last night’s discussion, “She apprised me on the circumstances surrounding her guests and gave me a clearer picture overall. I met your cousin himself, as a matter of fact”

“Did you sense an enchantment on him or anythin’?” She randomly asked me.

“What?” I wasn’t expecting that, “No. Braeburn is under no enchantment but his own! What possessed you to think that?”

Even though we were inches apart, Applejack refused to look me in the eye, “I don’ trust that Strongheart. I still haven’t gotten over her kidnappin’ Bloomberg!”

I did not think of AJ as someone who would retain a grudge, especially over a misunderstanding that happened a while ago.

“You mean that one apple tree you uprooted so you could plant it in Appleloosa? You realize that the natives had their rationale for doing that, don’t you?” I shot back, “They may not see themselves as Arcanians, but the Princesses do, so they have legal precedent in matters of property zoning near their lands. That orchard was obstructing a route the natives used to herd their namesake buffalos, and they did not take kindly to it. Besides, it all worked out, didn’t it?”

She huffed, “Maybe, but that don’t make a cowpatty’s worth of significance now, does it? The natives and settlers are both grindin’ axes, and Appleloosa is goin’ to be the town to take the brunt of the natives’ fury… again”

“That’s why we have to mitigate the damage by returning Strongheart to her people” I argued, “But the only way we’re going to smoothly accomplish that is by getting your cousin to board a wagon train heading for Appleloosa tonight at ten”

“I doubt he’d wanna leave his precious Strongheart to go back to the place where he belongs” Applejack criticized with a healthy amount of sarcasm.

“He will if Jubilee tells him to as his semiofficial boss” I countered, “He’s working here to earn his keep, yes? What if earning his keep constituted keeping an eye on some cattle that Miss Jubilee technically owns that will be traveling south with the wagon train?”

She took this with a pinch of salt, “That sounds like a roundabout way of lyin’ to him, Zenith. If Braeburn is goin’ on that wagon train to return to Appleloosa and his townsfolk, he needs ta do it with a clear conscience”

“And that’s where you come in” I shifted some of my weight off of her, “You’re going to be the one to give him that clear conscience. Jubilee has him cooped up for another hour before starting his workday. I mean to lock you two in a room together to have your family chat, while also guaranteeing that he will be on that wagon train with us tonight”

“You want me to persuade him?” I nodded to her, “I s’pose I could do that. Don’t get me wrong though, I’m still madder than a rabid hound at you Zenith!”

She just wouldn’t let it go, “What do you want from me, AJ? Flowers and a box of apologetic chocolates?”

The woman mulled it over in her head before coming up with an idea, “All this roughhousin’ has me feelin’ a little bruised. You can start apologizin’ to me by givin’ me a back massage later, kinda like those masseuses that Rares occasionally gushes about after a trip to the spa”

For the second time today, Applejack had stumped me, “A massage? Sure, why not? It’s not unreasonable” It would be doubtlessly be like kneading a brick wall, but I had the finger strength.

“And then I want ya to promise to help me and mah brother at our farm once the snows melt, for a week” She attached to the agreement, almost smugly.

‘Oh… hell no!’ I did not want to go through another grueling week at the Acres again! I wasn’t cut out for enduring grueling manual labor for extended periods of time.

“I don’t think I’ll be here after the snows clear, Applejack” I leveled with her, “The Princesses have an additional assignment for me after we stop the hostilities between the natives and the settlers” An assignment that they’d left me to stew in the dark over, but I had my hunches about the destination that it would bring me to.

She sensed that I was telling her the truth, “As soon as you get back from that then. You not bein’ around to help out on the farm has left an absence… one that even Granny felt”

“It’s nice to know that someone, somewhere sees me as a workhorse instead of a person with their own busy agenda” I drolly commented, judging her to be calm enough to restore her freedom of movement. I stood up and undid Applejack’s bindings before giving her a hand up, which she accepted as she got to her feet.

“You know I don’t jus’ see you as a useful set of hands on the farm, Zenith” She assured me, “Though you are definitely an asset to Sweet Apple Acres. But truth be told, the others miss ya too. Granny Smith confessed that your company and sharp sense of humor was most refreshing, Apple bloom adores you an’ I think her friends are of the same opinion, even Big Mac once confided to me that he missed the chats and occasional music sessions you two used to have”

That was a shocker, ‘Even Mac? I’m touched’

I processed this mutely after she had related it to me. To be honest, the closest substitute I had for the life that I used to share with my family… was with Applejack’s family. The bonds of kinship uniting the people living in that farmhouse brought an internal warmth to me that I didn’t know I had been missing until I felt it again. Rural life just didn’t suit me though, and I hadn’t the heart to turn down Applejack’s implied proposal then and there.

“You’ve given me a lot to think about, AJ” I deflected, “But in the meantime, we have a task to carry out. Come along”

The cowgirl obeyed and we found ourselves back in the kitchen we were in the previous afternoon, older and hopefully a tad wiser than before. Miss Jubilee had left the still steaming food at the table for Applejack and Braeburn. She herself was occupied with the dirtied dishes of food that she and I had consumed. They were flecks and chunks from remnants of bacon and eggs that had to be rinsed off and sanitized before they could be shelved, and I felt contrite for not offering to do that myself, like the gentleman that my parents taught me to be. But there was naught I could do about that now.

“Thought I heard a ruckus up there. The two of you have a disagreement?” The orchard owner inquired as she scrubbed at the oil streaked dishes with an old fashioned soapy sea sponge. The fact that she had plumbing that could pump out water through a normal faucet was an eye popper out here in the desert. Then again, she was richer than the majority of the inhabitants of Dodge Junction, so such amenities were to be expected.

“We worked it out” I shrugged, “Isn’t that right, Jackie?”

“Don’ call me that, Zenith!” She reproached me, before smiling sheepishly at Cherry, “I wasn’t behavin’ as I should’ave yesterday, Miss Jubilee. An’ for that, I apologize. Mah Granny raised me to be better than that”

“You gave me quite the fright, Applejack. But I understand that your feelings about your cousin’s recently acquired… paternal status,” She phrased carefully, “may have affected your percipience. You’re forgiven”

She paused in her dish washing and turned to us, “Speaking of whom, Braeburn ought to be down before long. So if you don’t have a scheme for cornering him to conduct your ‘convincing’, I’d suggest coming up with one soon”

“Think you could do it, AJ?” I consulted with her.

“A’course I can! And if he resists… well,” She mashed her fist into her palm, “I’ll kindly remind him who was the stronger of the two of us when we was kids at our family reunions”

That’s all the confirmation I had to hear, “Then we need only lock the two of you in a room together that I can soundproof to keep our ‘other guest’ unaware” I tapped a finger to my chin, “But how do we lure him into that room without alerting him to our intent?”

“I can help with that one” Jubilee interposed, “When any of my workers clocks in, the first thing they do is visit the storage shed next to the dried fruit silo to equip themselves. It’s just right for your purposes. It’s private, isolated, and since all of my workers have already gotten to it, it’s empty”

I graciously bowed my head to her, “You have my gratitude for presenting such marvelous ideas as we require them, Cherry”

She twisted away to hide what had to be a blush, “Aw, you’re too sweet on me, Agent Zenith. I’m just doing my duty as a fellow Agent of the Crown”

I noticed in my peripherals that Applejacks was trading bemused glances between us. Her brow furrowed as she tried and failed to determine how our relationship was on such familiar terms so speedily.

“Well, once Braeburn eats his fill and makes his way to the tool shed, we will be waiting for him” I motioned at the table to Applejack, “You’ll have to take that to go, in case he’s down sooner than we predict”

My instructions snapped Applejack out of her internal musings as she absently obeyed, picking up the cooling plate of food along with the silverware to eat it with.

“You best clear the air between you two” Cherry opined, “I’d hate to be a wedge in your relationship before it even blossoms”

I exhaled hopelessly, “Of all the problems facing me, that’s the only one that makes me truly nervous”

Cherry laughed, “You’re a perplexing man, Zenith, if us women and our feelings are a bigger bane to you than matters of the state”

“In my defense, the other issues I face aren’t as temperamental in comparison” I quipped in return, “Nor are they as liable to give me prolonged hell should I drop the ball”

She waved her sponge hand at me dismissively, “You’ll be fine, sugah. It’s tough for us women to stay mad at the object of our affections for longer than a week”

“My relief is palpable” I snarked, “I will be sure to bring AJ’s kitchenware back to you once we are done outside”

“Speak to me after you do, Zenith” Cherry bid me as I was walking out of the kitchen, “I’ve got something to show you that I was informed by letter that you might appreciate”

“Will do!” I called back, making my way out the door and onto the gravel of the artificial opening inside of the orchard.

The vaunted orchard hands, consisting of both men and women (though the gender skew oddly favored men by two thirds, but when factoring Jubilee’s tastes into the equation, it made an alarming amount of sense), shuffled about outside as they pushed wheelbarrows laden with ripened cherries of all colors, loading crates of packaged products onto carts to await shipping by train, and other duties as they meandered about the grounds. They all wore hats of varying styles, and I had a feeling that they wore them even when the hot rays of the sun weren’t shining down on everything. I set off in search of this dried fruit silo where the tool shed would be located, discovering it by the northeastern end of the clearing. I arrived to see that the cowgirl standing by the door of the shed had already devoured the contents of her plate, which was both impressive and sort of revolting, given how generous Cherry was with her portions.

I was appalled by her voraciousness, “Damn, Applejack… did you even give yourself time to savor that?” It was only a second later that I realized how richly ironic this was coming from me, as my family often asked the same of me when I all but inhaled my food.

It was an opinion we had in common, “After watchin’ you demolish what Cadence and Pinkie had to offer you after your mystery trip into the unknown, you’re in no position to poke any fun at me” She commented with a light pout, hoarding the plate close to her chest.

“Fair enough” I stretched out my hand, “Here, let me take that for you”

Applejack yielded the plate and silverware without complaint, “So you an’ Miss Jubilee…”

“Just fast friends, Applejack (‘For now, at least’)” I cut her off, “We’re both Agents for the Arcanian Crown, and I can’t help but feel like we share a camaraderie because of that”

“Friends you say?” Applejack was incredulous, “Never seen ya use that word so quickly before”

“Hardy har” I retorted, “It’s a word I use lightly in this situation, AJ. I’ve known her for all of twenty four hours”

“And yet you’re chummier than two peas in a pod” Applejack observed, “Is bein’ an Agent all that special to you? The Princess has only recently named you that, if I recall”

“Special Agent Zenith does have a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” I queried, rolling the title on my tongue like it was a piece of delectable hard candy, “Why so cynical, Applejack? Is the concept that I’m taking my friendship tutoring to heart so unforeseen?” There was mock hurt in my voice.

“N-no no, ah’m glad ya are!” She was abashed, “Heaven knows you’ve vexed us all with your aloofness. The real question is, why the sudden change of heart?”

I grinned rakishly at her, “You’re wise to remain suspicious. Part of it is genuine; the other part is an act. If I’m going to be an Agent that deals with sensitive diplomatic matters, then faking what I honestly feel about my relationships to pivotal figures in matters of intrigue is critical to staying ahead of the pack” I may have been new to the game, but not to the rules.

Her eyebrows knitted nearer to each other, “It’s a… ruse then? But that’s lyin’, Zenith!”

‘This again?’ Why couldn’t she just accept that perfect honesty was just as inimical as habitual lying?

I inhaled calmly and pinched the bridge of my nose with a free hand to avoid a migraine, “You are obviously not meant for dealing with the finer intricacies of diplomatic intrigue then, Applejack. That is why I am the appointed Agent, and you my faithful companion”

She seemed like she wanted to gainsay that, but we both spotted the silhouette of Braeburn in the distance approaching us. He was watching the ground as he walked, so before that blessing could change I ushered her inside and cast the sound proofing spell on the walls encapsulating the interior of the shed, which were lined with all kinds of equipment specifically designed for tending to a cherry orchard. I slid the plate and silverware into one of the widened unoccupied folds of Big Mac’s oilskin duster and leaned against the doorway leading into the shed, acting casually as Braeburn plugged the gap between us.

“Howdy, Zenith!” He chirped in greeting, clad in the selfsame clothing as yesterday (they were likely his sole set of clothes from living life on the lam), “Lovely mornin’, ain’t it?”

I hated small talk, “Indeed it is. Most mornings here in Arcania are, thanks be to the Dawnbringer” I praised Celestia half sincerely.

“Darn tootin!” He spouted with reverential fervor, “My boss is sober, my girlf-… I mean, my friend and I feel like our future is bright, and ah’m just in a happy mood today!”

He was exultant from the look of it, the poor fool.

“You gonna be joinin’ me out in the orchard today?” He questioned, brushing past me and placing a gloved hand on the door latch, “Miss Jubilee expects punctuality from all of her hands, and by no means do I wish to disappoint her! Owe her too much as it is” He chuckled.

“Not exactly” I answered, “And I’m afraid you won’t be doing any orchard work this morning”

He was midway through with the swing of the door when the second component of my implied meaning registered in his brain. But by then it was way too late for him.

“Hello, cousin” Applejack crooned in a low, dangerous tone from the darkened depths that would chill your blood, “You an’ me need to have a little chat”

I could all but see the hairs on the back of his neck bristle as he froze like a deer in the headlights. Before he could turn face to get the hell out of there, I shoved him inside and magicked the door shut, locking it for the duration of five or so minutes, which should have been abundant for Applejack to converse with her cousin. His frantic pounding at the door was muffled by the spell, so nobody without my keen sense of hearing would notice the muted, terrified shouts of the man trapped within. I didn’t envy him. Applejack could be scary when she put an effort into it.

“Best of luck to ya!” I saluted at the doorway with my hat, before sauntering off to Jubilee’s house to return the dish that Applejack did a remarkable job of cleaning in her own way.

Jubilee was waiting in the kitchen as ever, though she had evidently completed scrubbing the dishes and left them to dry on a rack beside the sink. I reached into my duster and removed the oily serving device and accompanying silverware. I made a tiny mental note to wipe out the grease lacing the pocket of my borrowed duster before it became grimy.

“Thank you” She said as I handed over the plate, “Are Braeburn and Applejack getting reacquainted?”

“Vigorously, I’d bet” I speculated in the affirmative, “Is his significant other still boxing herself in upstairs?” I was in no rush to meet her until it was mandatory for me.

“She has done nothing but seclude herself in her room since she arrived with him” She shook her head pityingly, “I can sympathize that she prefers to stay out of sight, in case the people looking for her come sniffing around, but the lack of social contact beyond myself and Braeburn isn’t wholesome”

It wasn’t an opinion that I concurred with, but I wouldn’t argue it with her, “So what was this thing that you were going to show me?”

Jubilee’s eyes lit up with barely suppressed excitement, “Oh, I just know that you’re going to love it!” Her hand shot out and grabbed at my own, bent on guiding me there herself. The abrupt physical contact was a bit jolting for me, but I swallowed the instinctive urge to toss her off.

She extracted two wooden cylinders from her outfit and pressed them into my hands, “Here. These newfangled doodads are labeled as flashbangs. Every Agent received them once they were put into production”

“We should thank the guy who made that possible” I suggested, diverted by this. I pocketed the devices for a later date.

Cherry swiped a glance at me, “What makes you think a man invented this?”

“Just a hunch” I told her.

We ambled along a dirt and gravel path behind her home, our footfalls shifting some of the dust that must have been leftover from the storm she mentioned. Not twenty feet from the house was a set of stables, and I wanted to slap myself for not comprehending what Jubilee meant earlier. Coming from the interior of the stables were the telltale huffs and snorts of equines.

“Miss Jubilee” One of the stable boys tipped his hat to her in respect.

She smiled, “At ease, Mister Farrier. How are my precious babies doing?”

Some of the immaculately brushed horses noticed the arrival of their mistress and nickered and whinnied in excitation. The orchard owner and her four legged friends must have had a close connection. It wasn’t far fetched for her to possess her own herd of horses. An independent lady had to employ a casual ride whenever she felt like escaping the confinements of her home. It was just that this particular independent lady had multiple rides to avail herself of whenever the necessity arose.

“Groomed and trimmed. As you can probably tell, they’re happy to see you, Miss Jubilee” The man grinned, adjusting one of the straps of his overalls, “Felicity and Mary were gettin’ a bit rowdy. Might need to take ‘em out to stretch their legs later”

“And our other guests?” She prompted, “Those magnificent creatures from the Royal Stables themselves?” She swept away any doubts I had left about my ‘surprise’.

“They are behavin’ themselves better than some of my kids!” He guffawed, only partly serious, “I must admit, I was afraid to lay a hand on them, with how intimidatin’ one of ‘em looks, but they are the most responsive breed of courser I have had the pleasure of lookin’ after”

He motioned for us to follow him, “C’mon! Come say hello to North Wind and Dusk Breeze!”

We trailed behind him, our way illuminated by cutouts in the ceiling of the stable that acted as skylights of a sort. At the end of the stables were a couple of stalls about twelve by twelve feet in dimensions, which was more than enough space for a large horse to move around without feeling too cramped. The enclosures were sealed shut through a simple sliding lock whose pattern repeated at the top and bottom of the gate just opposite of the hinges. Pacing about the floor of the stall on the right was what I’d swear was a carbon copy of Night Wind, though the fringes of his mane were tinged with flecks of navy blue and orange, which was accentuated by his midnight black coat. Beside his stall was a stallion currently in the process of chowing on a healthy mixture of grains, hay, and vegetables that were available in a trough that was subdivided into solid foods and water.

In spite of the pungent smell of horse, there was no stench of manure percolating in the air, which meant that Mister Farrier was either so competent at his job that he foresaw their tails lifting to do their business and intercepted them with a sanitized bucket, or that the digestive system of horses in this world was scarily economical with cutting down on waste. Back when I was adventuring with Night Wind and Starswirl, I never did get the chance to study my steed’s bathroom habits (Believe it or not, he would politely excuse himself and go for a trip to the woods to relieve himself, which wasn’t that often. The horse that is… not the wizard. His bathroom manners weren’t as refined).
I assumed the stallion with the unique blend of colors in his mane was Dusk Breeze. He shared his ancestor’s slimmer build, and probably his temerity as well. He wasn’t as tall though, being a hand and a half shorter at the withers. Though being relatively unknowledgeable about the growth cycles of equines, I had no idea if he was done growing yet, so I couldn’t claim to be certain with authority. His ears flicked towards us as our footsteps became audible and he stopped doing his perimeter sweep to edge his head over the fencing of the enclosure. His similarities to Night Wind never ceased to astound me; even his eyes were the same twinkling brown! I overtook Cherry and Mister Farrier and stopped just shy of the horse who looked so much like my loyal, long since passed steed. I stuck out my hand slowly for him to sniff at; the hot air from his exhales washing over my skin as he familiarized himself with me. He did this twice before nuzzling at me with his nostrils, deeming me safe with the gesture.

Having established an incipient bond, I began to gently stroke at the white strip of his muzzle, “Hello, Dusk Breeze” I whispered his name, causing his ears to perk in recognition, “In another time, on another land mass, I rode with your ancestor against all kinds of threats to the common people. He never once lost his nerve,” That instance where we were surrounded by thousands of Grimworts notwithstanding, “and he never backed down from the challenge, in spite of the danger to himself. I don’t automatically expect the same results from you, but I want you to know that you are the one of the latest in a proud bloodline stretching to before the founding of the United Kingdom of Arcania”

He was as receptive to chatter as his ancestor, pushing his muzzle into my hand and whickering. I smirked once my brain somehow interpreted that (With the aid of magic, I’ve postulated). He had more pride in him than Night Wind ever did, stating that a stallion with a royal pedigree like himself had to have gotten his skills from somewhere.

“He seems to like you” Farrier remarked, having caught up with Jubilee, “He wasn’t so fast to trust me” He grumbled offhand, mildly envious.

“Indeed” Jubilee concurred with his assessment, “You seem to have a natural way with that creature, Zenith”

“I learned from the best animal caretaker in the Kingdom” I explained, thinking devotedly of Fluttershy, “One of her tips when working with most perceptive herbivores was to present yourself to be as unthreatening as possible” And the demure woman would know a thing or two about that, “Then you can either approach the animal yourself, or let them come to you. The latter demonstrates that the animal has put some measure of trust in you. The critical phase for fellas like this guy here is to let them sniff you, so they can recognize your scent for future reference. After that you should be on their good side for the foreseeable future”

I chortled, a joke of my own coming into my head, “It’s fortunate I haven’t wrestled with any cougars lately,” I glanced sidelong and pointedly to Cherry, “otherwise he would instantly shy from me”

I don’t think she was privy to my hidden meaning, “I don’t see how you would. We don’t get many cougars around here. There’s not enough wildlife out in the desert wastes for them to prey on”

“It’s a tough life out in the desert” Mister Farrier added.

I did not respond to that hackneyed phrase with words. Instead I moved on from Dusk Breeze to focus on his sibling, who was too busy indulging his gut to pay us any mind.

His elder brother, and reputedly the better of the two from Celestia’s lips, was without doubt the big brother. He stood a lofty eighteen hands high at the withers, or about six feet, meaning that his profile could be spotted a mile off when compared to other breeds. North Wind must have inherited the draft horse genes, because he was enormous. Even in the low lighting of the stables, I could spy thick cords of muscles that rippled underneath his dark grey coat as he rotated in place to take heed of my presence. He had many of the traits associated with the stout build of a medieval destrier, only he was bulkier than average. His neck was arched and as well muscled as the rest of him. He had a wide, muscly jaw and a highly symmetrical width between his eyes, granting him a decent field of vision. His sturdy hindquarters were powerful, and I was certain that as one of the Royal Steeds he was trained to stop, spin, make sudden turns or sprint forward on a dime. Also worthy of note were the pristine condition of his teeth, which were whiter and shinier than many of the field hands around here had. If he were decked out in full caparison or combat barding, I’m positive that North Wind would cut a truly majestic figure.

Unlike his younger sibling, this one wasn’t as eager for my attention, with him neutrally sizing me up with two quarter lidded eyes the color of an icy lake before reverting back to his eats. I did not know what it was about this solemn creature that fascinated me so (mayhaps North Wind reminded me of myself in some respects), but I was intransigent on making this stallion my next mode of living transportation.

“Applejack can acquaint herself with Dusk Breeze when we set forth for the south” I announced, before pointing at North Wind, “That one shall be my steed”

The aforementioned horse sent me a bored stare that lasted two seconds before he snorted and walked towards me, seemingly consigned to his fate.

“Don’t give me that dejected look” I craned my head to the side as I jocosely sneered at him, “You and I are going to accomplish great things together, you’ll see”

North Wind’s expression remained cool, his jaw undulating as he masticated his last mouthful of food. With a final swallow, he motioned with his head to a set of hooks on the wall that were holding up an ornate black leather saddle, possibly the one he came with when he was sent here from the Royal Stables.

The edges of my lips curled upwards as I comprehended the message, “Glad to know you’re as eager as I am” I addressed the stable boy-man, “Let’s get him saddled and ready to ride”

“Right now, Sir?” Mister Farrier squawked, “But I haven’t had the chance to wash him yet!”

I didn’t mind, “It’s fine. I’ve gotten accustomed to the smell of horse sweat” Night Wind got plenty of exercise during his tenure as my means of expeditious conveyance, and I’m sure he got even more than that with Starswirl and the Princesses clutching his reins.

The stable hand reluctantly obeyed and unlatched the gate keeping North Wind penned. The horse did not leave his enclosure the moment it swung open and patiently bided his time for Mister Farrier to lift his saddle off of the rack and strap it onto his broad withers. He measured my leg length with a fleeting gander and adjusted the stirrups accordingly. The setup lasted about a minute and a half, during which he viewed the saddle from behind to check that the gullet was see through, fit a bridle onto his head with a band of golden stars that composed the crown wrapping just under his ears, and was attentive to my steed’s body language as he did this. If North Wind started to fidget, or paw impatiently at the hay strewn floor of the enclosure, the stable hand would loosen a strap or two. Being a man of experience though, this did not occur that frequently.

Once he was done fitting North Wind for riding, he stood beside him and clapped his hand on the saddle, “There ya go! All ready for a jaunt about the orchard grounds!”

“I’m not going on a joyride, Mister Farrier” I corrected him, before looking to Miss Jubilee, “Would you kindly instruct me on how I might find the ranch of this Thorpe associate of yours?”

“I can do you one better, Zenith” She smirked at me, “I can show you there myself”

I could only raise an eyebrow at this, “Isn’t your presence going to be missed? What if your employees need your input on something?”

“P’shaw!” She eloquently dismissed my pertinent concerns, “That’s what I hired my managers for! Don’t mistake me; I do like getting my hands dirty and involving myself in my orchard’s internal operations. But after this long, I’m confident that my staff is competent enough to do things without me holding them by the hand like some nanny”

She sidled up to me and her expression became friendlier, “Besides… it’ll be an opportunity for us to spend time together on matters of vital importance, doncha agree?”

“And Braeburn? Or his roommate? What about them?” I continued to give voice to my doubts.

She wasn’t bothered, “Applejack is occupying him adequately, I imagine. And my other guest won’t be downstairs until lunch is served, and that’s if she deigns to vacate her room” She slid on some riding gloves that I didn’t notice her carrying before, “We ought to be back well before then”

“If you insist” I pretended to demur in acceptation. I wasn’t that opposed to having her along with me when I spoke with Thorpe, since he would trust someone he knew over someone he had just met.

She was pleased with this, “Mister Farrier. Would you saddle Felicity for me? I’m going out riding for a spell”

He complied, and while he was doing so, I guided North Wind out of his enclosure by the reins. I halted him directly under one of the skylights of the stable and examined the saddle. I wasn’t wrong to surmise that it came with him directly from the royal source. The dark coloration of the leather might not feel too wonderful after sitting out in the sun too long, but aesthetics wise it ticked every box. Hand engraved metallic plates depicting items such as scrolls, swords, and silver filigrees lined the trim and lent it an air of elegance reminiscent of history. The clasps adorning the straps had five pointed stars embossed into the age resistant, smooth material, alongside flowing scenes of nature and acorns suspended from branches. The seat of the saddle was cushiony, and as I hefted myself onto it, I found that it was plush for making endurance riding that much easier to put up with. The horn on the pommel of the western styled saddle was fashioned in the shape of Celestia’s and Luna’s dual Sun and Moon emblem intertwined in each other.

I must admit that being back in the saddle was a… comfortably familiar experience. I may have been new to horsemanship once, and would not consider myself beyond the level of an intermediate, but my skills as an equestrian were sufficient to direct North Wind forward with a click of my tongue. I’d have to ride him for a while to determine how he responds to subtle commands of the spurs on my boots. But I felt that with how responsive his ancestor was, he wouldn’t be that different. Looking to my side, I could see that the stable hand had did as his boss bid him and saddled Felicity, who was a palfrey mare with a palomino coat. I’m not sure why, but her silhouette reminded me of Daybreak, which then led to guilt as I had abandoned the injured creature in order to save Starswirl from being captured by the aggressive Skyborn. I’d never given much thought as to what her fate was, but a part of me hoped that she survived and was treated fairly under an owner that would not put in a tight situation like that ever again. It had me pondering as to what kind of creature I would be seated on if the opposite had occurred, and I was forced to abandon Night Wind.

Simply entertaining the idea had my heart in fits, and I realized with grim certainty that this world had changed me into something sappier. Perchance it was a positive transformation, as I had been repeatedly described as ‘without emotion’ (rather unfairly I might add) in my past by people who wouldn’t bother to go the extra mile to know me. Or perhaps I had just discovered one of the few things that tugged at my heartstrings.

“You two look larger than life together” Cherry’s voice broke me out of my musings as she pulled up beside me on Felicity, “Are you ready to head on out?”

I nodded, “Lead on”

Mister Farrier unbarred the wooden main doors of the stables and light from outside flooded in through the opening. Cherry wasted no time as she whipped the reins and had Felicity immediately take off in a gallop. I copied the motion via a verbal ‘hyah!’, and soon the wind was streaming in my face as I played follow the leader with the audacious orchard owner. We rocketed into the clearing in front of her home, catching the eyes of some of the orchard hands, the more curious of whom gave us a few seconds of their attention before returning to their laboring.

Cherry seemed to be challenging me to a race, as she had been constantly pushing her steed to increase the distance between us twofold as we galloped down one of the winding paths that connected Cherry Hill Ranch to the rest of the Dodge Junction countryside. Not wanting to be left in her literal dust, I literally spurred my horse onwards, putting him through his paces. I learned about my future steed with every second that passed. North Wind was a big and burly stallion, and yet he rode with better grace than I remember Night Wind could muster even when he was at a relaxed pace. What Night Wind was bereft in refinement though, he made up for in zeal, which I sincerely wished his stately descendant had inherited.

The split tail end of my duster that was draped over North Wind’s hindquarters when we exited the stable was now flapping excitedly, like a banner that was caught in a draft. I perceived a surge of exhilaration as we sped past row upon row of verdant cherry trees, and held it close like a dear old friend. As we broke through the tree line, I learned that we had taken a northerly bearing downgrade the hill. The trappings of civilization in the form of Dodge Junction were situated to our left, so far off that the buildings composing it were like miniature doll houses, with black ant like specks darting in and out of them.

North Wind had managed to overtake Felicity, having the longer stride, the energy, and the endurance to sprint circles around the smaller mare.

“Aren’t we in a hurry today!?” I shouted over the shrill rush of air once we were abreast.

As she laughed with joy, I understood why she had worn that practical rancher’s outfit instead of a dress. She had been planning to attach herself to me this day, mayhaps to act the part of an Agent as she was. The gal may have been getting on in years, but she wasn’t so decrepit that she couldn’t put her best foot forward and aid me in setting events in motion that would determine the fate of the southern settlers. I hadn’t seen that many settlers myself, as Dodge Junction was nestled right where Arcania could be defined as desert. I contemplated how similar the Arcanian frontier was to the American one that I read several books and watched countless movies about. To me, the trials of the pioneers moving west to achieve their dream of manifest destiny showcased true grit, and the resolve of the American spirit versus grueling odds. I guess my first real taste of that would be keeping the peace between settlers and natives.

I eased North Wind off the throttle and allowed Cherry to be in the lead, as she knew the directions to this other ranch and I did not. Roughly twelve minutes of scattering dust and sand in a cloud to our rears, the orchard owner and I came within sight of another ranch. Unlike Jubilee’s place of business though, this ranch was dedicated to the raising of cattle. In fact, we saw the wide open ranges of the fenced in fields before we ever spied the buildings. The land here must have been arable, for there was a smattering of grain crops that must have been meant to sustain the hundreds of steers and heifers that were grazing at the straw colored grass and whipping their tails at pesky flies. I wasn’t knowledgeable on cow breeds, but the lengthy, curved bones protruding from the bull’s heads unmistakably marked them as Longhorns. I refrained from breathing in too deeply as we probed the grounds, as this place smelled very much like a cattle ranch, if you know my meaning. Miss Jubilee, on the other hand, didn’t have so much as a cringe on her face, so used was she to the aroma of domesticated bovines.

Occasionally I descried that there were cattlemen here and there running buckets of food and water to the feeding troughs, fixing fences that had structurally degraded, or individually herding a cow to a building that seemed conspicuously like a slaughterhouse. Curiously, none of the cows had signs of branding on them, which would have distinguished them apart from cattle belonging to adjacent operations dealing in livestock. I passed it off as another moment of ‘It’s Arcania, crimes like cattle rustling are all but unheard of here’.

‘And yet, crime is the exact reason why I have been sent down here’ I thought, basking in the irony of the situation.

The ranch house belonging to the owner was one of the few spots here where there were trees to shelter one from the severity of the sun. It wasn’t as sizable as Jubilee’s lodge style home, but it had all the comforts of home that I recognized in the Apple’s home; including a rocking chair with an elderly person swaying on it. The aforementioned person was an elderly man that I would estimate was on the eve of entering his twilight years, or about his early sixties. He had stringy shoulder length cinereal hair streaming in curly waterfalls from his head. He bore some similarities visually to Wild Bill Hickok, if he wasn’t shot in the back, hung up his famed Colt revolvers, had lived to see old age, and shaved off his rugged mustache while he was at it.

“Where’s the foreman!? He was supposed to be here twenty minutes ago! I won’t have any malingerin’ on my ranch!” He called out to one of his nearby workers, who was carrying two pails filled to the brim with dairy milk, all of it freshly squeezed from some heifer’s swollen udders.

“Don’t rightly know, Mister Thorpe” The sweat laced man answered, “But I remember one of the guys sayin’ he was thinkin’ of goin’ over to the Flim Flam brothers to work for them”

Thorpe, as he was identified, relaxed visibly, “Ah. Then… that’s all right with me. The Flim Flam brothers are probably just borrowin’ his services for a while!”

His boss didn’t see it, but I made out the disgruntled pail man roll his eyes, not thinking too highly of his boss’s skill in judgment apparently. This did not matter however, as our arrival had finally been noticed by Thorpe, who smiled as he saw Jubilee over my shoulder. He struggled a tad to rise from his chair, exhibiting that he wasn’t as spritely as he once was in his youth. Since he was at least twice Jubilee’s age, and this town hadn’t been established for longer than a century, it was quite possible that Mister Thorpe had seen Dodge Junction when it was a developing boomtown.

“Well bless my bones!” He remarked as we dismounted from our horses and he descended from his porch, “If it isn’t little Miss Jubilee come to visit!”

He embraced her in a hug, friendly feller that he was, “How are ya, darlin?”

“Not quite so little anymore, I fear” She said with blithesomeness, mirroring his smile, “We’ve come to discuss tonight’s arrangements?”

“Ah yes,” He nodded, “The cattle. As your man told me before dawn, I’m to allow a couple of your hands to lend their aid in escorting a portion of our cattle to those poor folks in Appleloosa?”

Jubilee wordlessly responded in the affirmative with an intoning hum.

Thorpe’s expression darkened, “Those durn natives” He turned his head and spat into the dirt, “Excuse my poor manners, but the Princess should have ran them out of this fair country centuries ago. Now that the country’s citizens are movin’ south to make a home on land that legally belongs to them, the natives are up in arms about it! T’aint right”

“There are two Princesses, Sir. Princess Luna has been restored to the throne some years ago” I gently corrected him, inserting myself into this conversation, “And both of them would sooner have peace before resorting to spilling blood on their Kingdom’s soil”

I left out that Celestia adjudged the Buffalo Braves as pseudo Arcanians themselves. Lots of old people were notoriously set in their beliefs, and I wasn’t here to ineffectually argue politics with a simpering Wild Bill lookalike who couldn’t discern that his hirelings were jumping the fence for the proverbial competition, albeit I doubted that he sold whatever it was that the Flim Flam brothers were peddling.

The man’s eyebrows shot into his wide brimmed, black bowler hat as he appraised me, “Ain’t he a biggun?” He declared to himself. He then extended his hand towards me, which I shook, “What’s yer name, Mister?”

“Zenith” I introduced myself, “I’m going to be one of the men supervising the transfer of cattle when we form a wagon train bound for the south”

“I can see why she would entrust this task to you, Zenith! Ya look strong enough to pull the ears off a Manticore!”

“It’s Gundark” I amended his statement with a smirk, “Strength is not the only quality I possess though”

“I don’t doubt it” He replied, trying futilely to wrap his mind around what in Sam Hill a Gundark was.

“Surely you understand my precaution, Mister Thorpe” Jubilee pitched in, “Being in business for as protracted a time as you have, risky ventures such as this can’t hurt but come with some insurance”

“A’course, a’course! Whatever waters your crops!” He was as amenable as Cherry described him, “I have the hardiest livestock already picked out for the journey. Beefy bulls, the lot of them!” He gesticulated in a nebulous direction to his rear, “I have them in a separate pen. Care to inspect them yourselves?”

“Might as well” I bobbed my shoulders, “We didn’t come all this way just to chat”

“Excellent. I’ll show you to ‘em myself!” He exclaimed with energetic fervor.

After we had hitched our horses to a couple of posts, we walked with Mister Thorpe along one of the rows splitting the pastures where the cattle were lazing or otherwise chewing on parched grass. As it got closer to midday, the temperatures outside in the Dodge Junction region were just shy of sweat inducing, and wearing a black duster only compounded the issue. The hot, moisture-less air reminded me greatly of home, during record degree summertime heat waves. If this was what the winter periods in Southern Arcania were like, then I shudder at the concept of experiencing a summer here. As we strolled with the aged man, he regaled us with tales of his life as a nascent rancher. His family was among those in a wagon train seeking to begin a new life in the relatively unpopulated lands south of the capital of Concordia. They were among the homesteader group that split from those that were bound for a patch of fertile land next to the Neverfree that would eventually become Magiville. The splinter group trail blazed a path that went through Rambling Rock Ridge and past a river that was later discovered emptied directly into the aptly named Horseshoe Bay.

After taking his initial measure, I decided that Tagalong Thorpe was a nice man, which was why I was confused that Cherry wrote him off as a pushover who made poor business decisions. His ranch wasn’t overflowing with cattle; mind you, and I estimated it as accommodating only about three hundred cattle, which was paltry next to some of the feedlots I glimpsed on rare family drives to San Francisco. Still, he was doing well for himself. His coffers weren’t overflowing like I suspected Cherry’s did, but he was content with what he did have, and I respected that. He exemplified that humble American yen for a peaceful self sustained life.

Having been the owner and proprietor of this ranch for forty odd years, he was entirely adjusted to the ripe, tangy odor of cow manure, inhaling with his mouth instead of turning to small sips of putrid air through my nostrils like I was doing. I resolved to pore over his chosen livestock with Cherry’s second opinion to notify me if anything was wrong before returning to Cherry Hill Ranch to receive an update from Applejack and her hapless cousin. A few meters out from a fading orange barn was the lot where Thorpe was keeping what we came here for. The cattle here were all steers, and longhorns at that.

Again, I wasn’t that studied in bovine topics, but I did recall that longhorns were good for a cross-country cattle drive like the one we were about to embark upon after sundown. They had a better sense of intelligence than other breeds, and had a gentle disposition that kept them out of trouble with their handlers. The former of which was likely enhanced in this world, given how all animals had an intuition than their counterpart cousins from my home world notably lacked. I marveled at how diverse the longhorns’ coat coloration was, ranging from tan to a zebra like white and black pattern that would have a Dalmatian’s head spinning.

“Here we are!” Thorpe announced, “Have yourselves a gander! Are they not the healthiest, most robust bulls you ever did see?”

I leaned over to Cherry, “You’re an expert on this, right?”

“I don’t buy into things I know little about… unless they’re a safe bet, sugah” She whispered back to me, and somehow I knew she was poking fun at me with that same statement.

“Who else will be coming with us on the move to Appleloosa?” I asked Thorpe.

“I’m a tad shorthanded as of late,” Thorpe admitted without hint of shame, “but Dusty and Granite Base have volunteered for the duty, as they got extended family livin’ in Appleloosa themselves”

I made a show of scrutinizing each steer at a distance before speaking, “I’m satisfied with my findings. Everything seems to be in order for tonight” I concluded, “Thanks for your time, Mister Thorpe. We’ll get out of your hair now”

He was about to reply when one of his attendants rushed up to us, “Mister Thorpe! One of the Flim Flam brothers is here to see you!”

I didn’t even need to glance at Cherry to know that a disgusted mien passed over her face at those words. She really didn’t care for them much. I wondered what they did to her that earned her permanent disdain?

“I best see him then” Thorpe chirped, “I’ve been runnin’ awful low on that miracle grower stuff lately” He twisted his head at us, “Your horses are where he’s waitin’, so y’all might as well say hello to him too”

Jubilee mumbled unintelligibly but raised no fuss about it, and I was indifferent to this news. Thorpe dismissed the man who gave us the report and we made the short trek back to his house. In front of it was a canvas covered wagon with a logo depicting the Flim Flam brothers’ color scheme and overused words ‘Satisfaction Guaranteed!’. Seated on the conductor’s bench and clutching the reins of the four horse team was a gangly man with a twenties style boater hat with a blue band attached to the crown. Sickly green irises peered out at us from under that boater. His hair was a two toned red and white that reminded me a cinnamon swirl toothpaste that I once tried out for the heck of it (By the by, I was disappointed with my purchase, so this tangential thought was actually fitting). His clothes were like articles out of a barbershop quartet’s dressings, consisting of a blue and white striped vest with a black bowtie and tanned slacks. His features were clean shaven, but he wore this oily smirk that was just begging to be wiped of his face with a vigorous thwack. I did not fail to notice Cherry instinctively taking shelter behind me as we came closer.

“Howdy do, Mister Thorpe!?” He energetically exclaimed to ranchman, “I’ve got a shipment of fertilizers here with your name on it! It’s at a bargain too! Only a hundred bits per bag! That’s a real discount there, pardner!” He had a classic carnie’s voice, which was equal quantities amusing and repellent when he attempted to get with the local vernacular.

“Hoo whee!” Thorpe hooted, the wool from this con man’s shoddy act drawn completely over his eyes, “It was over two hundred bits for half a bag the last occasion y’all came ‘round!” He seemed wisely suspicious for the first I had seen him, “Why is it so inexpensive this time?”

“Profits have been…” The man smiled in a shifty, malign way that I immediately distrusted, “…extremely favorable these days. Me and Flam felt a show of generosity wouldn’t go unappreciated by our customer base”

“Ah” Thorpe nodded, “You wouldn’t be wrong there”

And like that, his wisdom evaporated like fog in the sunlight.

The man’s cloying smile became a leer as he laid his eyes on my companion, “Miss Jubilee! What a pleasant surprise it is to see you here! Was thinking you had secluded yourself to your orchard permanently, what with how you’ve been so pointedly ignoring us”

“You overstepped your bounds with me Flim Skim” Cherry all but hissed at him, “You and your brother Skam both”

“Did he do something to hurt you?” I inquired, wanting some context.

Cherry couldn’t meet my gaze, “I… I don’t wish to talk about it. Let’s say that I made the mistake of inviting them into my home once and leave it at that”

That had me balling my hands into fists, “If they touched you…”

She was aghast, “No, no! Celestia, no! Those two couldn’t tempt a woman into bed with them if they paid her! Though it didn’t stop ‘em from persistently trying” She mumbled the last part.

‘I haven’t known this insipid man for more than a minute and I already want to throttle him’ I groused.

Jubilee’s hand caressed mine briefly, as a token of gratitude for expressing my concern for her wellbeing. It was unlikely that she knew that I wasn’t like that solely for her sake, but that I had an aversion to men who forced themselves on women in any aggressive or untoward manner. Mutual romance was fair game, but seduction with harmful ulterior motives was wrong… plain and simple.

“And who might you be?” Flim’s gaze turned to regard me hungrily, “You seem like a stout fella. Could use a man like you in one of our mulching facilities. We only operate locally for now, but work hard enough, and you might be able to join us in… expanding our business across the nation”

I scoffed, “Much as I would welcome the offer. I’m already employed by Miss Jubilee to supervise the transfer of her and Mister Thorpe’s livestock to Appleloosa, and I honor my commitments” I excused. That, and I’d sooner spit in that man’s hand than shake it.

Flim’s eyebrows rose, “Bringing cattle with you to Appleloosa, do you say? Best be careful with that chancy endeavor. The road down there is dangerous nowadays. Many travelers who risk the journey lose a lot more than the money in their pockets, especially with those Buffalo savages on the prowl”

The man’s opinion towards the Braves was crudely revealing about his personality, but I had yet to interact with any of them myself, so I let it slide.

Taking a page from the women’s playbook, I crossed my arms together and leaned to one side, favoring my left leg, “I have reason to believe that our chances are favorable, since we’ll be traveling in numbers” Which should ward off the entirety of any but the most determined attackers.

Flim said nothing to that, though I could have sworn that I spied a glint of anticipation in his eyes, as if he was marking that in his head for later.

“So how bout it, Thorpe?” Flim addressed the ranchman, getting back to the sale, “Our fertilizer has just the correct amounts of Flim-Flam certified magic in it to accelerate your crop growth threefold. You can even acquire those tomatoes you always wanted in a quarter of the time it takes!”

“You had me at hello!” Thorpe told him exuberantly, “I’ll purchase the whole wagon!”

“The wagon costs extra” Flim joked, wagging his eyebrows at him, “Though I’m sure we can work out a deal for that too, if’n you’re willing”

Thorpe chortled, but didn’t swallow the bait. Without further banter, he extended his hand for a shake to the crooked businessman in the venerated symbol of a deal well struck.

Flim copied it eagerly, “Marvelous! Another happy customer”

“Folks here once thought so lowly of your products in the past. I must confess, I was inclined to believe the discouragin’ tales from people passin’ through before I tried out one of your wares for myself” Thorpe was ashamed, “Please, you gotta tell me, what did you concoct to induce this fertilizer to be so potent?” Thorpe inquired, “An’ don’t insult me by stickin’ to that ‘It’s magic’ malarkey you Stellar Magi often resort to. My cattle have never ate better in their lives!”

“Hmm…. I’m not in the habit of disclosing closely guarded trade secrets unless there’s profit to be earned” Flim curled his fingers back to rub on the fabric of his vest, “But it might have to do with a special ingredient that we’ve started mixing into our batches recently. It just lends a… native flavor to it that makes all the difference”

That odd clairvoyant sense which I infrequently became aware of when there was something off that I could not explain began to murmur in my chest. I frowned, wanting to act on it, but there were no bloodthirsty Acolytes barging in on us that required dispatching. So I could do nothing proactive about it.

Flim let the greying ranchman wrap his mind around that while Thorpe’s unburdened ranch workers responded to his cueing them to unload the wagon while he swapped a cowhide purse heavy with bits with Mister Flim. I shared a look with Cherry and saw the same desire to create an absence in our present company. We came to the ranch, we evaluated the stock, and deemed them healthy. It was time to check in on the Apples and see if they had settled things in preparation for the departure tonight. We crept from the group sluggishly to avoid appearing too impatient to disappear. Unfortunately, our escape could not be flawless, as the observant Flim had reallocated his faculties from lustily counting coins to spot us edging away. He pursued us to the hitching posts where North Wind and Felicity were squeezing what they could of their bulk into the rapidly retreating shade of Thorpe’s slanted tin roof.

“Hey,” Flim spoke to Cherry as she mounted up, “before you book off without so much as a fond farewell to yours truly. Do you think you can answer a question of mine?”

“Ask, and then do me the favor of leavin’ me in peace” Cherry replied brusquely, accidentally slipping into her authentic accent once again.

“Alas, were it any other request, I would oblige in a heartbeat!” He mocked bowed, before he was serious, “I’ve heard the most interesting rumors in town about a duo of guests that you’ve taken in. They say they originated from further south, a man and a woman”

“People say all sorts of things. Your point?” Jubilee had commendable control over her self, with the only reaction that my trained eye could identify being a faint tremor in her cheeks.

Flim scrutinized her for an uncomfortably long moment, and then he showed her his pearly whites, “You two have a pleasant afternoon”

Cherry didn’t dignify him with a mirroring adieu, whipping the reins and sending Felicity scampering into the lanes between cattle fencing. I stayed behind to momentarily bore a hole in Flim’s skull with the force of my stare before doing the same. The return trip to Cherry Hill Ranch was not as upbeat as it was when we were leaving its premises. Jubilee was in a foul mood from Flim’s tacit implication concerning her guests and it reflected in her actions. Felicity must have broken her record for fastest personal gallop as Jubilee continually motivated her with her boots to sprint ahead. Even North Wind had to push himself to gain on them. I aimed to encourage the ranch woman that Flim was a creep that wasn’t worth her attentions, but it felt like it would be moot by now.

Mister Farrier was sweeping up straws of hay scattered on the stable floors when we made our entrance. Cherry was so distraught that she cut it a little close on the entry, nearly clipping the man (who yelped and ducked to the side) in her haste.

“What in tarnation!” The flustered man cursed, before glaring at the newly re-scattered hay from the shock wind of our arrival, “I was sweepin’ there! Aw… now I hafta do it all over” He moped.

Jubilee ignored him, jumping off from Felicity and exiting the stables with a darkened expression on her face.

Farrier switched his focus to me, “What’s got her in a tizzy?”

“The same thing that has me worried” I retorted, swinging one leg over North Wind’s hindquarters to alight to the floor, “We are definitely saving ourselves a few seats on that wagon train tonight”

“We?” Farrier squawked in misinterpretation, dropping his broom, “But I have so many duties here to perform! I-”

I clapped a hand on his shoulder, shutting him up, “Relax. You’re not coming with. Sexy people only”

He was divided between being relieved and insulted by that statement as I left him to chase after Jubilee. She was quick on her feet, and I only caught a glimpse of her accessing a backdoor into her home as I retired from the stable. As I got closer, I could pick up on a commotion emanating from inside. I opened the door she used and those indistinct noises became crisply audible.

“-m I gonna break the news to her?” Braeburn asked, desperation saturating his every word.

“Gently, roughly, with tact, bluntly” Applejack listed with a light sprinkle of sarcasm, “Ah’m pretty dang sure you know how to speak to yer own soon to be betrothed, cuz”

From the proximity of their voices, I could assume that they were in that grand ol’ kitchen that was our unofficial meeting room. Cherry was nowhere in sight, which was cause for concern, and yet I could not ignore the discourse betwixt cousins to search for her.

“You don’ understand, Applejack” Braeburn was pulling at his hair he was so stressed, “She came to me in the dead a’night and told me that her life was in danger. No matter how much I asked her to clarify what she meant, she refused. Sumthin’ about endangerin’ me too if I knew”

Applejack sighed in frustration, “Listen, cuz. You’re already in danger. So far as the Buffalo Braves are concerned, you kidnapped their Chieftain’s daughter and ditched town. Even if no one saw ya do it, the Natives will put two and two together and pin the blame on you. Ah’m certain that your fellow Appleloosans are receivin’ the punishment for your actions too”

He flinched at that, “I jus’ wanted to help her” Braeburn broke down, unleashing a rather unmanly sob, “I had never seen her so grief stricken before. It wrenched at my heart. I just had to help her get away from what was hurting her!”

“And what exactly was hurting her?” I chimed in, my composed baritone voice in stark contrast to Braeburn’s trembling one.

My intrusion into the conversation startled them both, though less so for Applejack, who was more accustomed to how quiet I could be despite being as large as her thickset brother.

When Braeburn how recovered he spoke, “Didn’t you hear me? Strongheart wouldn’t spill, for my own safety!”

“I did, actually” I enunciated, “But you can provide some context for us by describing the events leading up to you two running from your own respective peoples”

The man snorted, “It should be a single people. They’re not so different from us and we’re not so different from them. Us settlers have a greater focus on materialism, is all”

“I don’t make the denominations” I sat at the table beside AJ, “I’m merely here to prevent them from clashing, is all” I mimicked him.

Braeburn narrowed his eyes at me, “Who are you? Clearly it ain’t one of Miss Jubilee’s newest employees!”

“I didn’t mislead you, if that’s what you mean. I am going to be aiding Miss Jubilee here at the orchard and beyond that, as will you” I said with a smug grin, “As for any possible concerns you might have beneath that worn exterior of yours, that’s taken care of as well”

“Explain” He demanded.

I did so, “You’ve been granted a reprieve for eloping with the Chieftain’s daughter and for worsening the steadily degrading relations between settler and native”

He was skeptical, “On whose authority?”

“Mine own” I verbally parried, “This Royal Agent of the Crown knows the Crown’s will and speaks with the Crown’s voice” And if necessary, will exact the Crown’s vengeance on those who would dare to cross it.

His pupils shrunk, “I’m in that deep, huh?” He exhaled with mental exhaustion, covering his face with his palm, “How did you discover our whereabouts? I could’ave swore this place was sufficiently secure to bed down in for a few months”

I hitched an eyebrow, ‘He still can’t figure out who it was? Not the sharpest tool in the shed, is he?’

“The Crown has eyes and ears everywhere” I sidestepped the question with an ambiguous response to spare him an emotional confrontation with Miss Jubilee, “I doubt you could skip country and not alert somebody, somewhere, to your intentions. Now enough of this,” I leaned forward and stared at him, “it’s time for you to talk. Let’s start with an easy one. What is the nature of your relationship with the Chieftain’s daughter?” I wasn’t being sincere about grilling him, but he needed to learn who was in charge.

He tentatively complied, “We’re… close… very close. After the people of Appleloosa and the main village of the Buffalo Braves reached an accord, each side appointed a go-between to act as a representative. Strongheart, naturally, was chosen over many in her tribe, as she embodies all of the values the Buffalo Braves hold dear. And surprisingly, the town voted for me to stand in for them at the negotiatin’ table”

“You must have proven yourself to your fellow townsmen to warrant their trust” I observed.

“T’weren’t nothin” He humbly debased himself, “Governor Denim tol’ me that I was the only Appleloosan to play devil’s advocate when it came to the orchard contention between our two settlements, so that might have had sumthin to do with it”

“Okay” I nodded, “So you both were elected as local ambassadors. I assume that meant you interacted on a regular basis?”

He smiled as he cycled through treasured memories, “More than was required, to be honest. She and I have a world in common, both of us wantin’ to expand our horizons until they consisted of less sand and dust. We’d often meet at a secret spot under the shade of a nearby butte, toss out a picnic sheet, lay down, and jus’ talk till the sun went to sleep” For some reason his facial flesh tinged crimson as he recalled one such session with his lady love, “We have this connection, ya know? She gets me and I get her”

I saw AJ scoff out of the corner of my eye, but she stayed silent. She had issues with her cousin falling for a Buffalo Brave woman, even if she wouldn’t concede it aloud. Due to the insular nature of the town she was born and raised in, I could overlook her slightly racist tendencies regarding this subject.

Braeburn cut me off before I could continue, “You ain’t going to harm Strongheart, are you?” He stood from his chair, “Cause I’ll be damned if I sit idly by while somebody abused her. Agent or no Agent!”

“Sit. Down” I commanded in that imposing tone that I was capable of when it really mattered. I was growing rather accustomed to this authoritative persona that was expected of me, which I etched a mental note to monitor in case it clouded my objective judgment.

All the fire sucked out of him from my intimidating glare (blood red irises combined with a normally piercing gaze are a hell of a browbeating combo), he plopped back into his rickety seat and deflated, “Yes, sir” He muttered in defeat.

Why did I feel like I had kicked a helpless puppy?

“Look, Braeburn, I didn’t bring your cousin with me simply to corner you when it was most convenient for me” Even though it did blatantly seem that way, “I brought her to reassure you that our motives are pure. That, and she has a decent, sensible head on her shoulders. I may have a funny method of showing it,” My eyes met hers, “but having her with me bolsters my confidence”

Applejack’s features flushed bright pink for a moment before she stifled it with a swig of cherry wine that must have been leftover from the previous night’s activities. She politely excused herself to the restroom, leaving her cousin and myself alone at the table.

Braeburn made note of her departure, his range of view flicking back and forth from her rapidly retreating backside and me, “That’s bizarre” He commented, “Cousin Applejack is too modest to let high praise perturb her. Are you and her…?” He left his inquiry unfinished, making circle motions with two index fingers to emphasize his point.

“Just good friends” I sincerely filled in for him, though I would have to review the terms of our platonic relationship with her in the near future.

I shook my head, “We’re deviating from the topic at hand here. So you and Strongheart are in love then?”

“Yes” He admitted in a subdued tone, before repeating it with gusto, “Yes! I love her with all mah heart!” He affirmed, as much as a pledge to himself as it was to me.

‘Well don’t that beat all’ I mused, ‘He’s telling the truth. But will he love the child he created with her too? That’s the real test’

There were no lies in those eyes, “I believe you. But do you also love the denizens of the town of Appleloosa?”

He was caught off guard, “Not in the selfsame fashion, but yes, I do”

Time for an armor piercer, “Then why did you selfishly abandon them to their fate?”

“Selfish!?” He bristled at the accusation, “All I did, I did for mah Strongheart! With no second thoughts to mahself!”

“So you tunnel visioned then?” I sharply retorted, “You grabbed the girl like the protective boyfriend you were, and selflessly devoted yourself to seeing her to safety, never once considering the impact that your actions might cause for the local politics”

“Not never!” He insisted, “Some times when we would stop for a breather in the desert, I would risk a look to my rear and think about what I was leavin’ behind. Mah town, mah friends, mah home; how I was gonna disappoint everybody who relied on me to settle disputes between settlers and natives over petty things. I sacrificed it all for her…” His demeanor became steely, “…and I would do it again if given another chance”

“Staunchly dedicated to your love? I respect that” I complimented, having a similar attitude.

“Then you must allow us to disappear!” Braeburn exclaimed, “If you’ve learned about us takin’ shelter here, who’s to say others haven’t learnt the same!? Strongheart’s suitor would have mah head on a platter if he mustered the brain cells to come find me!”

That was a no-no, “That I cannot do, even if I sympathize with your plight. There is more at stake here than the sanctity of your relationship, Braeburn” I switched subjects, “How was your chat with your cousin?”

His mood darkened, “Unpleasant. Ah’m not goin’ to sleep easy for a long while” He grimaced, and refused to elaborate on what Applejack did to him, “She gave me little choice but to return to Appleloosa with you on that wagon train tonight… but I won’t leave without Strongheart at mah side!” He stipulated.

“And nor will you, as I am coming with you of my own volition” A foreign voice interposed itself into our conversation.

I twisted my neck to see who it was, my suspicions confirmed as a lightly brown skinned woman dressed in a loaner outfit a couple sizes too big for her (not that Cherry was fat!) sauntered into the illumination of the kitchen windows. The main person of interest since my quest began wasn’t a simulacrum of Pocahontas like I envisioned she would be, being of a smaller height than even Jubilee stood at two inches over five feet. What she lacked in stature, she made up for in exotic beauty. Her eyes were a shade of chestnut brown with golden pigmentation on the edges that accentuated her firm but gentle gaze. Thin though she was, she had plenty of muscle where it counted, likely from the physical activity that her culture mandated from her. Her hair was long and of a lustrous brown coloration, with a triangular patterned band that sprouted two immature golden eagle feathers, sporting a two toned white with black tipped scheme. The native woman’s belly was flat, and would not display the first visible signs of her pregnancy for a few weeks at least.

I politely inclined my head to her, “Miss Strongheart. How convenient of you to join us”

“Would you rather I remain ignorant of your underhanded coercing of my love?” She replied, some spice in her words.

‘Yes’ I internally snarked for my own amusement, ‘Now get back in the kitchen and make me a sammich… wait, this is the kitchen. Damn…’

“Mind your tone, dear” Jubilee chimed in from over the native girl’s shoulder, “He only has your best interests at heart”

Strongheart seemed disgusted with her, stepping far from her like she had the plague, “As you led us to believe that you did? The list of people we can trust grows ever thinner” She spat.

Jubilee had the grace to look marginally ashamed, having been the one to sell her guests out to the government.

But her duties to the Crown were of primary importance relative to her secondary sentiments, so she regained her composure quickly, “And I legitimately do, my sweetling, but shutting yourselves inside the confines of my orchard will ultimately do more harm than anything else”

It occurred to me that while I was zeroing in on Braeburn, Jubilee must have been likewise pressuring Strongheart into retracing her steps south for the greater good. I desired to congratulate her on her prudent thinking, but saved the urge for later.

“And the same will be true should I do as you say” Strongheart riposted, “My people’s suffering will be compounded!”

“What in blue blazes are ya talkin’ about?” Applejack piped up, back from the bathroom. All that was missing was a flushing noise in the background.

“Applejack” Strongheart coolly acknowledged her presence, “I did not expect you to be here”

“With mah cousin pallin’ around with you?” Applejack bared her teeth, “If you learned anythin’ about apples from mah cousin, it’s that we take care to prevent one bad apple from spoilin’ the entire barrel”

“Still as arrogant as when we first met!” Strongheart sniped in retaliation, “You do not control another’s affections! Not even those of your own kin!”

“Ya seduced him with some kind of foul sorcery!” Applejack accused her, getting into her personal space and towering over her diminutive frame.

“As ignorant as well!” Strongheart barked at her, unafraid. Her cheeks were burning with anger.

Braeburn was pale, unable to choose between defending the honor of his close family member or his lover as their argument devolved into squabbling.

“Ladies!” I shouted above their bickering, saving him the trouble, “Cease this pointless hostility at once! Strongheart,” I directed at the flabbergasted native girl, “you will elucidate what you meant by endangering the lives of your kinsmen further, and not a word of it will leave this room afterwards” I leveled a strict glare at everybody present, “Is that clear?” My tone brooked no backtalk from anyone.

Each of them nodded their consent. Some did so grudgingly to a larger extent than others.

“The Princesses were not unwise to appoint you as an Agent, Zenith” Cherry commented, seemingly bedazzled, “When you speak… people listen, and obey”

I was not in the mood for her infatuation derived flattering, “Must be my dominant personality” I quipped before slamming my fist onto the table like it was a gavel, “Now sit down. All of you”

They complied, with Strongheart sitting beside her man, her adversary Applejack opposite to her. I was at the foot of the table, and Cherry was at the head yet again. Although when taking jurisdiction into account… I was the head of this particular house. Strongheart nestled her head into her love’s shoulder and Braeburn wrapped an arm around her lovingly and protectively. Applejack grit her teeth, but a black lower from me preemptively silenced her objections.

“As you were saying?” My eyes glowed red as I cued the native woman once everybody was seated, “Our privacy is guaranteed. I’ve cast a multilayered soundproofing spell on the room. Even the Princesses could not eavesdrop on us” I levitated the hilt of my Mage-blade outside the sphere as an added assurance. And though I misused the hell out of them, I usually followed my words to the letter.

“He’s a magic user?” Strongheart muttered to herself, before obliging me, “Would you swear on your life, light, and magic that your intentions with us are pure?”

I studied her cautiously, “If you so wish it, I shall grant it”

I was familiar with what she was requesting of me. It was a subspecies of incantation based magic, which was just as malleable as typically worded statements. But if the proclamation phrases were specific, like an oath for example, then it would become legally and literally binding for the one uttering it. With how impartial the power of this magically influenced oath was; it made sense that Strongheart would place her trust in me after I acquiesced.

I inhaled deeply, “I solemnly swear on my life, light, and magic that I mean you and your significant other no harm. I’m here to help end the bad blood between the southern settlers and the Buffalo Braves, and I will need both of you on my side to accomplish that”

I felt something beyond the sensation of touch surge through my core, before passing harmlessly into the ether from whence it came. Strongheart watched me carefully for a second or two before she was satisfied.

She sighed in relief, afore launching into her explication, “The man my father set me to marry, his name is Wild Bull. He’s the son of one of our nearby village’s beloved fighters, Standing Bull. So therefore he was a suitable match for me in my father’s eyes. Our people similarly respect his prowess in battle, and the majority of us believe he will succeed my father as Chieftain once he passes onto the next life, but he harbors a terrible secret from the rest of his kin”

I wasn’t certain if her pause was for the dramatic suspense, or the immensity of this secret stupefied her even after the fact.

“He consorts with men who would conspire to exterminate us” She choked out, “He has been in close contact with the men who have been raiding our other villages, kidnapping our brothers and sisters, and violently disposing of those who would resist them!”

She slammed her fists into the table, though not with the force that I had done it with earlier, “Honor demands that his treachery be punished accordingly” She was then disheartened, “But I am a woman, bound to be subservient to my father’s will and my husband’s, once I marry him. My role is to stanch the flow of blood, not be the cause of it”

“I will never treat you as anythin’ less than an equal” Braeburn vowed, ever the progressive, liberal minded thinker relative to his peers.

She caressed his cheek with her fingers, “I know, my love. You are the only man who holds my heart, yet this means nothing to my people. We are prohibited from marrying outside of our kind. Only a tribesman can claim a tribeswoman for a bride” She couldn’t meet his eyes for her next statement, “Our union is… unorthodox, forbidden even”

“I don’ care about none of that!” He cupped her face in his hand, “I only care about you, mah Sweetheart”

He kissed her right then, ardently and passionately on the lips. Cherry blushed hard enough to match some of the Prunus cerasus fruits flourishing outside, while Applejack struggled to avoid bursting a bulging vein on her forehead as her jaw twitched and flexed. I was indifferent to other couples’ public displays of fondness, but averted my sight anyway.

“How did you catch wind of this?” I inquired of her once they had ended their mutual lip-lock.

“Catch wind?” She expressed confusion, before the term registered in her head, “How did I discover this, you mean? He and some of his fellow warriors visited my father’s village some time ago to discuss the details of acquiring my hand in marriage. The men got drunk on fermented buffalo’s milk that night. He snuck into my tent, swaying with each step. He pompously divulged all of it to me. He would forsake his native cloth for a disguise to meet with someone in Appleloosa, an…” She wracked her brain for the proper term, “informant? Yes, an informant. He told this man about our tribes migrating patterns and where each village was likely to encamp themselves for a time in exchange for that which he desired above all else, which he would not explicitly reveal. This man spread the sensitive information to those responsible for our missing tribesmen, perhaps participating in the reaving himself!”

‘Called it’ I mentally fist pumped, ‘There was an insider in their ranks the whole time. But why would he sell his own people out? What did he aspire to gain?’ It was not conductive to the preservation of peace, whatever it was.

“He knew there was not a thing I could do about it” Strongheart quivered, out of sadness or rage was difficult to discern, “It would be my word versus his. My father may be the Chieftain, but we do not favor the word of those who have not proven themselves to be capable warriors regardless of who their father was, and I have not slain even our namesake buffalo on the traditional hunts. He threatened everyone dear to me if I ventured to defy him anyway” She shivered at the memory, “He then attempted to… claim me before our vows were spoken there in that tent, damning my virtue to maw of the uoomjeku. I struggled with him as he tore at my clothes, only managing to slip away after kneeing him in his manhood. I stole one of their horses and made my way to the only man who would defend me”

“So yer tattered clothes when you came to me in the twilight hours were because of…” Braeburn’s face was ashen, “Ah’m gonna kill him. If I see him, he’s dead!”

“No! Braeburn please. You cannot face him openly. He is one of our most talented fighters” Strongheart pleaded with him, “He would surely kill you… and my reason for continued living would die with you. You have a tender heart, and that is part of why I adore you so tremendously. I would have you live, to spite him with our love”

“Why would Wild Bull do this? What does he seek to gain by playing the informant for these cantankerous outlaws?” I questioned.

“I do not know” She admitted, “He has all he could want. He has the respect of his kinsmen, a notable father who many looked to for strength during times of famine or drought when the waters of the Great Snake River ran low, and his demands to lead full war parties against the settlers to collect scalps were becoming increasingly permitted”

It was then that I had my inkling to the causation, “How does a person become a Chieftain in your society, Strongheart?”

“When the current Chieftain, my father dies, our people congregate to vote on who will lead the Buffalo Braves in his stead. The precedent was that the son would inherit the mantle of leadership, but my mother died shortly after she brought me into this world, and a woman cannot be Chieftain. It is not our way” She was bitter about the patriarchal aspect of her tribe.

Shockingly, Applejack sided with her nemesis on this matter, “That’s total horse manure! A woman can lead as well as a man. Mah brother and I would even take turns managing our farm’s operations for monthly periods. I do just as thorough a job as he does!”

“Your people are not my people, Applejack. Though I am glad that your people as so… egalitarian? Yes, that’s the word” Strongheart addressed her softly for the first time since their reunion, “My tribesmen practically worship our worldly traditions as much as they do the Great Spirit which watches over us all”

‘It that a clue into the faith they follow?’ It sounded like it.

She resumed, “To be Chieftain, prominent men from each of our villages would compete with the other contenders for the mantle by indicating their deeds and acts of courage. As one might predict, the warfighters are chosen very frequently. For as long as our history extends into the past, each of our leaders have spilled blood, animal or otherwise, to demonstrate their bravery, before and after their investiture”

I snapped my fingers, “That’s it then! Whoever collects the greatest number of scalps would outshine their competitors and be a shoo-in for next Chieftain, and this Wild Bull is likely doing precisely that. It’s a classic power play, to ease his path towards Chieftain-hood”

“From what I have seen of Wild Bull, this is quite possibly true” She agreed, “But my father is still alive, and he would not rally the entirety of our people to march on the settlers until he had conclusive proof that they were endeavoring to undermine our people’s birthright to this land. He retains some measure of esteem for the men and women living in Appleloosa and will not touch them, but the adjacent settlements bordering the plains we call home are ‘subject to investigation’, as he had put it when I tried to reason with him to stop this madness altogether”

“And if your father were to… meet a premature demise?” I suggested to her.

“Murder my father?” To her it was unthinkable, “As powerful a warrior as Wild Bull is, my father could crush him with his dominant hand tied behind his back” She scoffed, “Wild Bull is not stupid enough to directly challenge my father to a fair fight”

I quirked an eyebrow in response to her last couple of words, and her complexion paled as she realized it too, “Is he plotting to murder my father through other methods? By the Spirit! How could I have abandoned him to his fate!? How could I be so naïve!?” She was frantic at this point. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, I guess.

Braeburn comforted her as she sobbed into his chest, whispering encouragement in her ear. Applejack was actually feeling sympathetic for Strongheart’s inner turmoil, but was stumped on how to express it to the woman whose presence she merely tolerated at best. Her antagonistic armor was weakening though, and her cousin’s genuine displays of doting were the chisel that would shatter her prejudice.

Jubilee was leaning towards being proactive in stemming her fears, “So far the people of Appleloosa only have to deal with raids from your people. If your father was dead and the next Chieftain chosen, they would have launched an all out assault by now, doncha think?”

Strongheart looked as her with desperation and grief mixed in her eyes, “So there is hope?”

“There is always hope” I averred, “But hope alone will not set things to right. We must take action to counter the treachery of your betrothed and uncover the villains behind this plot to kidnap your people and direct the retaliatory ire onto the settlers”

“But the men doing this are armed with some kind of weapon that spits fire and lead” The native woman protested, “You cannot believe that you can match them, can you?”

I said nothing, instead settling on unholstering my huge ass revolver and laying it smoothly on the tabletop. Everybody’s eyes threated to pop out of their sockets as they beheld the spiritual descendant of the Gun that Won the West. Needless to say, it generated quite the uproar.

“An unholy Thunder-Horror!”

Braeburn tilted his head curiously, “Is that the… Princess engraved on it?”

“Well, I’ll be!”

Applejack was not amused, “Zenith… how long have you had that?”

I scooped it up again and holstered it, “To answer those in order: Yes it is, and since before we left the Krystal Kingdom”

Strongheart was indecisive about how she felt about this development. On one hand, this was the type of weapon that slaughtered and captured her people (though not as refined in its capacity for sending metal slugs flying downrange), but I had sworn on my very life and magic that I was here to put an end to all of that.

“I won’t match them, Strongheart” I monotoned, “I’ll surpass them. Comparing whatever they’re using to what I’m packing is like matching a common hunting bow to a ballista. There’s no arguing which is the heaviest hitter”

“How did you acquire that?” Cherry inquired, “Gryphondrian firearms are a rarity not seen outside of their own country until just recently. And whatever that one is, it’s a few steps up from the advanced designs the Crown briefed us on”

“You could say the manufacturer of mine is…” I grinned mischievously, “Discordian”

The orchard owner frowned, incapable of deciphering my hidden meaning. Applejack did, however, and from the withering glare she projected at me, she did not approve of this in the slightest.

I didn’t really crave her opinion on what I armed myself with, “AJ, I know I’m breathtakingly handsome, but that’s rude” I switched my attention to Strongheart, “You told us that as a woman, you could not challenge the traitorous Wild Bull openly. Is there a way that I perhaps could?”

She assessed my mettle with a glance, “Wild Bull did not earn his name idly. He is a ferocious combatant, and yields to no one once the battle madness is upon him. You are about his size, but not half of his bulk. You would be crushed if you went against him”

“I think you underestimate my chances” I casually retorted, ready for a scrap.

She hummed to herself, “There is no doubting your bravado, but even if you were the one to defeat him in a duel, only another member of our tribe can engage him in a sacred blood oath”

Color me intrigued, “What is a blood oath?” I prompted her.

She acceded, “A public death pledge, invoked between domestic enemies in our tribe. Claim is laid on another’s life in sight of men and the Great Spirit. It hasn’t been called for since before I was born. The last two participants died upon the other’s knife, embracing the other in death where they would not in life. It cannot be undone, as one or both of the invokers must die or forever be condemned in view of the Great Spirit. Such a fate is considered worse than death”

‘Like Nex Sacramentum’ I mentally contrasted the two.

“How does one become a member of the Buffalo Brave Tribe?” I naturally followed up with.

“I do not know” Strongheart’s head lowered despondently, “I know tales of lost men who were enchanted by our ancestors simple means of living and somehow became a part of it, but the details are hazy. There are solely two men in our tribe who can declare a person to be one of us, and that is my father and our shaman; who has been blind since before my father was not yet a man”

I shrugged indifferently, “I will have to charm them, I suppose” Failing that, I could just assassinate Wild Bull with stealth. But not before interrogating him for the information I craved.

“Wait” Applejack interrupted, “Ya can’t be seriously givin’ thought to killin’ somebody, are you?”

“Oh no” I replied conversationally, “First I’m going to pry the name of this informant from his lips… and then I’ll kill him”

My blasé demeanor when talking about the topic of ending someone’s life in cold blood had my audience silent, unable to process the implications of that. I remembered that I was no longer among company that dealt with death on a regular basis like it was when I was with Starswirl, or the Princesses. These were Arcanians to whom the concept of war and unadulterated antipathy were inconceivable and taboo. Even Braeburn, who had so adamantly expressed his intention to murder Wild Bull for nearly violating the woman he loved could not comprehend to what lengths I was willing to go to protect those I cared about. I had consigned myself to be a sin eater, so that these peaceful folk would not have to bloody their hands.

“Snakes alive!” An astonished Applejack commented, reclining into her chair with disbelief, “Jus’ when you think ya know someone, they up and surprise you with sumthin like that”

Cherry somehow found it in her to defend me, “Need I bring up that Zenith here is an Agent to their Royal Highnesses? He’s has the fortitude to do what it takes to get the job done. Even though the requirements aren’t enviable… he has the strength of character to see this through to its finish”

Strongheart came to my defense after her, “He swore a solemn vow before the Great Spirit to cease the ill will between settler and native. If that demands that the life of Wild Bull be terminated to do this, then the Great Spirit will guide his hand as if to strike at him itself. Wild Bull is the very picture of arrogance. He would sooner die than renounce his warrior’s ways”

‘A true warrior does not seek to incite violence. He defends others from its destructive effects’ I mused. This didn’t necessarily apply to me, but it was reassuring to have ideals.

Braeburn tugged upwards on his hat brim, “If mah Strongheart has faith that you’re our best bet, then ah’m with her”

All of us waited on Applejack, who was debating internally with herself.

“Shucks” She finally relented, “What kind of reliable gal would I be if I backed out now?”

That settled it then, “All of you, save for Miss Jubilee, pack your belongings. We egress tonight”

⁂

The wooden spokes of our wagon’s wheels creaked and cracked as it followed half a dozen similar wagons in front of it. I wiped a bead of sweat from my forehead with one hand while holding the reins of North Wind and Dusk Breeze with the other, who were hitched to our cart. We were in the middle of the column, where it was technically the safest. Applejack, Braeburn, and a bonnet wearing Strongheart were sequestered in the rear and doing their damnedest to keep cool in the sweltering, dry heat of the desert. Luckily for us, Miss Jubilee had seen us off with two crates worth of organic cherry juice, which was as efficient of a lifesaver as a glass of iced tea. Strongheart and Braeburn didn’t waste ten minutes packing what few things they hauled with them during their elopement (Braeburn would later tell me that they used the horse Strongheart had stolen to navigate over three quarters of the distance before it gave out on them). The former of the two had to wear garments that covered her darker complexion, so as to not arouse suspicion around these settlers, who had an aversion to the harassment that her people were inflicting on their relatives in the south. Applejack was on interception duty, and would distract the nosier folks away from them by regaling them with tales of her orchards famous apples.

The cowgirl had a lot in common with these settlers, I had noticed. A vast chunk of her family tree (heh, apple puns) had migrated to these lands to forge a name for themselves. The soils, or lack of them, weren’t what Stellar Mage experts would deem conducive to the growth of crops, and yet the stubborn Agrarians always found a way to make it work. Of the three clans that inhabited this country, the Agrarians were closest analogues to the American frontiersmen, and for that reason I felt a small kinship with them myself. It was well nigh enough to cause me to forget about the aching for home lancing at my heart. I was positive that given time, I could adopt this world as my own in my heart of hearts, and a Trifect like me had an overabundance of time. Having a woman like Applejack as my friend would ease me into that, as would her five friends and the supplemental women in my life.

The desert to the south of Dodge Junction resembled monument valley, with a reddish hue to the siltstone composing the rocks of the buttes. This transitioned to less visually attractive desert as the days ground onwards. Our wagon train consisted of twenty two wagons, the vital cargos and supplies they carried, and the cattle that followed alongside being herded by the cowboys. Tagalong Thorpe had lent us two of his most loyal employees to aid us on this venture, albeit their hastily imparted names presently escaped me. They were competent cowpokes though (babysitting our herd of Longhorns for me and Braeburn), so their presence was a credit to our column’s collective skill pool.

The staging area for the initial operation was no rodeo stage show, and the folks riding with us were as bent on reaching Appleloosa as we were. They were as hardy as the pioneers their ancestors had been almost a century prior, and it reflected in their mannerisms. Some men brought their whole families, though there were no children as far as I could see. To avoid the rearmost wagons eating a mouthful of dust, our column would occasionally fan out and ride abreast in separate miniature columns if the roads would accommodate it. The appointed wagon master was a man in his thirties named Trail Mix. I advised against his decision to utilize the trail beside the train tracks to travel to Appleloosa, as it was incredibly risky in spite of the travel time we would save. My objections were overruled by the majority vote however (for they were impatient to get there), and I didn’t want anyone else to know a Royal Agent was in their ranks, so I stayed quiet and we tempted fate as a whole unit. I was confident that whatever was bold enough to attack a wagon train as sizable as ours would be discouraged if I got involved in its defense.

Our travels were about four days in at that point in time. With how determined these people were to relieve the citizens of Appleloosa combined with the ruggedness of the Agrarian spirit, we were averaging over forty miles a day. Relatively flat lands coupled with pre-blazed paths facilitated our movement across the desert wastes. Vegetation in these parts was sparse, and moisture even sparser. The greenest living things that stayed constant in the scenery were saguaro cacti that grew as tall as man and as spiky as the most ornery of them. Folks would have to employ swigs from their water skins and canteens every other minute to avoid dehydrating, and the shade of the canvas covered wagons was treated as a precious commodity unto itself. People would take turns driving their wagons forward in four hour shifts, with the shortest sticks designating the torturous midday shift. In contempt of my body’s protesting, I did not terribly mind the arid weather, being no stranger to it myself. If I ever overheated, I would cast a refrigerating spell on my skin to lower my body temperature until it was satisfactory. That was not often though, as my poncho did a commendable job of deflecting the sun’s rays thanks to its light blue coloration with white streaking bands of stars.

Speaking of, I had acquired my newest article of clothing when I saw a fancy cotton table sheet with tassels that I just had to modify. I paid Cherry a hefty sum for it (though not in bits, as I would have preferred), as the sheet had belonged to her parents and had sentimental values attached to it, but it was worth my expenditure. Crafting a poncho was as simple as the concept of a poncho itself. I levitated it aloft in my magic, rotated it, and folded it in half before using a shard of Dichotomy to slice a triangle in the middle portion where my neck would go. Once my custom tailoring (Rarity would bite her tongue off before describing it as that. Though I did pay heed to her free lessons in clothing alterations) task was complete, I attained myself a brand new poncho for my ever expanding wardrobe. I had apparently started a fashion trend when I first wore it on our journey over my duster. From there others in our wagon train had seen it, appreciated it, and sweetly begged their wives to modify and sew them their own. There were only a few among our wagon train population of over a hundred that sported a poncho, but those who did personally thanked me for introducing something so useful during both the scorching days and freezing nights to preserve their comfort.

As aforementioned, temperatures in the desert had extreme fluctuations depending on which celestial body held sway over the heavens. During the day, it was sweatsville for all of us, and the sensitive men and women moaned about it. At night, the reverse was true, and we would almost have to huddle together for warmth if there wasn’t a fire going by the time eventide was here. Additionally, we would form our wagons into a circular corral formation, not for defense as the inexperienced would assume offhand, but to prevent our cattle from wandering off in the night or being preyed on by coyotes. None the less, the defensive integrity of our column was essential, and I pressured Trail Mix until he caved in and assigned lookouts and pickets to warn us of danger. I also instructed him to construct Dakota fire pits (think a couple of holes in the ground with a campfire in one) after sundown to prevent the light from giving us away to any potential enemies. Since digging a Dakota fire pit was a hassle, I would go around our camp personally to dig them with my magic for folks too tired after a prolonged day of journeying to dig it themselves. This had the unintended side effect of raising my esteem amidst our little mobile community, and they would sometimes give us gifts of beef jerky and bottle beer as tokens of their gratitude. It was uneventful up till then, but I remained on my guard.

My caution was warranted, for on the sixth night, trouble found us. I was assisting on a wheel repair (adhesion spells are handy when you’re dealing with wood) with a thin man named Slim Jim when the latter excused himself to ‘water the plants’ as he euphemized with a chuckle. I recall idly asking him to be careful as I finalized the third of my six adhesion jobs. We had chosen a spot half a mile from the rails that was ensconced by rock and foliage in a sort of semi canyon, and the desert floor there was too thick to dig Dakota fire pits, so we had to adopt the regular ones that crackled and blazed in the silky moonlight. My companions were having a dinner of beans, rice and skinned prickly pears by one such campfire, minding themselves as was routine. By my bent knee was a pile of replacement spokes for the wagons in a wooden crate, which were subject to maintenance even in perfect conditions for traveling. The spokes for the rear wagon wheels were the length of walking sticks, which I assumed was for structural reinforcement. The column did not stop for a single wagon, and there were occasions where we nearly had to abandon people in the rear view, the ultimate goal of Appleloosa on everyone’s agenda. We were very fortunate that our losses up till then were limited to a couple of wagons, and not a couple of families. The other wagon folk selflessly offered what unoccupied space they had to create room for the hapless settlers.

Our wagons had been circled for about half an hour when I heard the shuffling footfalls of Slim Jim, who was returning from his bathroom break. I frowned when I realized that the rhythm of his footsteps was off. He was trudging as if he had an immense weight on his shoulders that was pulling at him. His silhouette emerged from the darkness unsteadily, and I had that sinking feeling in my gut that tonight would be memorable for the wrong reasons. He twisted weakly once he was less than ten feet from me so that I could see the eight arrow shafts sticking out of his backside, like he was some human porcupine.

“Slim… is that you?” I prompted in a worried tone.

“Buffalo Braves are attackin’ us” Were his last whispered words to me before he collapsed like a puppet with its strings snipped, dead.

I reacted quickly, grabbing one the wheel spokes from the crate, since the only other means of defense I had on me were my Tantō, my hidden blades, and my gun, which I would not use unless in grave need. If Slim Jim had been attacked within pissing distance, this likely meant that our pickets had been silently eliminated too. I cursed internally as I jogged past a cart and into the ring of wagons. I told Trail Mix and the others that the direct route was too dangerous, but they would not listen, and now we would pay a death toll for our passage.

“EVERYBODY UP!” I hollered to those that had fallen asleep, startling them from their slumber, “Get the women to the center of the circle. Barricade them in as best you can with our supplies” I directed towards one of Trail Mix’s entourage, who would relay his commands. Now he would relay mine.

“What in tarnation is the matter?” Questioned one of the sleepy men, rubbing his eyelids. There were notes from a harmonica drifting into the atmosphere, belying the danger that was a figurative stone’s throw away.

“We are under attack” I answered simply, “Someone fetch Trail Mix and inform him of that. You, you, and you” I pointed at three men who were wide awake, “Grab something to defend yourselves with. You’re with me”

The men obeyed and armed themselves with shovels and pickaxes before joining me to sound the alarm. Unease and slight bits of panic spread like wildfire throughout our camp in ripples from a tossed stone. The commotion my news brought about must have tipped off our attackers that the element of surprise was lost, as a shrill war cry that would cause ice to form in the veins of the uninitiated (which was virtually everyone here) echoed all around us. The movement of people in the camp transformed into a loosely organized frenzy as Trail Mix’s subordinates ushered the women into the center of the circle by the cattle like I had ordered them too and set to work on the barricades using crates and whatever else that was sturdy and on hand. The situation could have been better. The settlers by and large had no combat experience, no armor, and no actual weapons besides a few rusted crossbows to defend themselves with. I had no idea as to the numbers of our enemies, or if they intended to put us to the blade. Knowing my fortune lately, it was highly probably that they came with lethal purposes in mind.

The first clue to reinforce that notion was a couple of wagons that were set aflame by the charging natives. The fires engulfed the flammable canvas of the wagons and lit our surroundings up like the Fourth of July. A stream of Buffalo Brave warriors poured through the gaps of the wagons from our fore and to our rear like flowing water, and I barked out orders to contain them. The men were undoubtedly nervous, but seeing me so unfalteringly calm in the face of these odds must have inspired something in them, as they did not hesitate to follow my lead. If too many natives breached our wagon circle, we would be overrun, so I led a group of twenty five strong in a mad dash to meet the closest of the two pincers. The Buffalo Braves meant business. War paint had been smeared on their faces like a grotesque camouflage and their hair was done up in ways that were practical, yet simultaneously intimidating. They were shirtless for the most part, but that only showcased their muscle, and these men were no string beans in that department. These natives had to be as ripped as Big Macintosh at least!

One of them was headed my way with battle fever in his eyes and a tomahawk like hatchet brandished in his hands. I struck him on the forehead with the butt of my improvised staff and knocked him unconscious, scooping up his axe to insert in my belt. The principal section of my group had arrived and they were engaging the Buffalo Braves, who crashed upon them like waves on a rock. Despite the disadvantages in average muscle mass, my men were fighting for their lives, and that lent them a fortitude that I had first seen in Mirrimare, so many years in the past. I lost sight of my companions in the ensuing chaos, but knew that Applejack would watch over our mutual acquaintances just fine. Trail Mix had evidently formed an inner line of defense with what scant crossbowmen he had and was denying our enemy a way inside. They had erected crude barricades to take shelter from the arrows that were falling on us from above like droplets of rain, infrequently striking an unprotected man and wounding him. Each man that fell decreased our chances of coming out of this, so their incapacitation or slaying was felt by each of us.

But there was no time to concentrate on anything else but the fight, as our enemy was numerous and three of their warriors had rushed me. The first of which was dispatched when I had swept him off his feet with my staff and followed up with a swift conk to his skull. I blocked an axe from a second assailant with the durable wood of my staff and twisted, loosening the weapon from his grasp. I spun in place to impart kinetic energy to my staff and nailed this one in his solar plexus, sending him flying back to crumple in a heap. The third yelled at me and tried to stab me with a duo of flinty knives, I parried his blows easily and counterattacked with a rapid flurry of oscillating strikes with the edges of my staff, before finishing him off with a blow to his face. If he lived, he would be covered from head to toe in bruises for a month, if not, then oh well. As hard as they were fighting, my men were simply outmatched, and we had to pull back as more of our number were slain. A morbid reprieve was granted to us in the form of the victorious fighters pausing their assault to collect scalps.

“Zenith!” A voice shouted, “Duck!”

I did so, and a crossbolt zoomed over my head and embedded itself into the chest of a Brave who had snuck up on me while I was distracted. I looked up to see who was responsible for saving me from a potential injury or worse, and was mildly caught off guard by the fact that it was Braeburn. He reloaded a bolt into his weapon using a cranking mechanism that had little to no changes done to it since before the unification. I spotted a charging Brave bearing down on him and acted, choking up on the wood of my staff and swinging wide with it to strike that man in his ribs, engendering him to double over before I struck him again for good measure. His brazen charge had surprised the grass green Braeburn, who fell on his keister when he saw how close he was to biting the dust.

I extended my hand for him to accept, “On your feet, partner. This fight ain’t over by a long shot” I said as I got him up.

“R-r-right” He shakily replied.

Our remaining time for conversation was at an end, as a fresh wave of warriors had bypassed what leftover resistance my group was putting up and we were in its way. I tossed Braeburn my appropriated hatchet and charged my staff with magic. Like with electricity, wood wasn’t an optimal conductor for foreign magical energies like my own, but just the sheer amount of magic I was infusing into my staff overrode its inefficiency. My strikes now had the oomph necessary to drop my enemies with a single hit, and would often launch them into the air like ragdolls. Behind me were the women of our wagon train, who wailed in despair as they saw their loved ones being killed by the seemingly endless numbers of Buffalo Braves. My fury was building with every one of my adopted countrymen dying, and I was starting to let apathy seep into my actions. I caved in one native’s skull with a downward swing and with fragments of his skull plastered on the once immaculate wood, ended the life of another man by smashing his windpipe and flooding his airway with the bitter, metallic taste of blood. The Brave’s took note of my ferocity, but instead of giving me a wide berth, they took me on in greater volumes.

Hell, I didn’t care, “You aren’t getting past me” I snarled at them, my eyes like two smoldering coals, “Proceed at your own peril”

They did, and I adjusted my fighting style accordingly. I planted my staff into the ground and used it to hold myself up was I spin kicked several Braves in a wheel like motion. I didn’t hold back anymore, and I put an ostrich to shame as I bloodied my boots with native vital fluids. That dark part of me that I kept suppressed was beginning to worm its way out, and an unbidden smile had started to form on my face. I yearned for more of these damned Buffalo Braves to show up so I could send them back in body bags. That was if there was enough of them left to compose a body, anyhow. I went on the offensive, butchering a gory swatch through their ranks to plug one of the gaps. Brains were splattered, bones were splintered, and the bold war cries were expeditiously transforming into cries of agony as I single handedly turned the tides.

The only obstacle in my way that posed even the tiniest fraction of a threat was a man about my height who wore a headband dotted in several feathers with crimson tips. He was as muscled as an ox and wielded a combination of axe and knife that he skillfully used to butcher a man who only had a spade to oppose him with. He put all of his strength into his first lateral swipe of an attack as I came within reach, and I had no choice but to block it. My staff split in twain from the undue stress that I had forced it through, and I was left with a couple of sticks in its place. I had to roll to my right to avoid having an axe buried in my frontal lobe, but I sprang to my feet in recovery. He chuckled, presuming me almost beaten, and shouted a command in a foreign tongue to his surrounding men, who gave us some space to duke it out to the death. A still coherent aspect of my battle focused mind made note of this, and deduced from there that he must have been the leader of this war party.

“You are a dangerous opponent indeed” He observed, twirling his weapons in his hands, “Your scalp will make fine trophy to remember this victory!”

“Oh yeah?” I twirled my two sticks defiantly back at him, “Come and claim it”

He grinned maliciously and charged with an ululating screech. With room to maneuver, I sidestepped his hasty lunge and blindsided him with the flat end of my right stick to his cheekbone. I spun my left stick into a reverse grip as I used my muscle memory spell to summon my memories of watching a series of videos on how to properly use Escrima sticks and having it empower my movements. I spun in midair and kissed his face twice with both sticks, sending him reeling back. He spat out a globule of blood and growled like an angered animal. He renewed his assault with a modicum of caution this time, countering my footwork with his own. I could parry his axe and knife faster than he could my sticks however, and I was landing infinitely more blows to his person than he did to mine as I whaled on the pressure points of his gut.

He weakened over time, and each of his swings were a little more weighted than the last. His penultimate mistake in our duel was stupidly taking the bait of a feint and jabbing for my midsection with his knife. I knocked the weapon out of his hand with one of my sticks, did the same to his other as he tried to hack at me with his axe. With my opponent disarmed, I crisscrossed my sticks around his neck and impelled his face to meet my kneecap. As he wobbled from the stunning blow, I kicked at his jaw with a backflip, dislocating it and loosening several of his teeth in addition. He tumbled to his knees and went face first into the hardpan.

While I had triumphed over my opponent, his men were at work slaughtering the inner defensive line. Trail Mix’s crossbowmen were spread out too thin and therefore could not maintain the defensive integrity of the circle after the outer defenses were in shambles. I thought I spied a battle scarred Applejack and Braeburn fighting back to back against superior odds with a claymore (that she no doubt extracted from her space enchanted bag the millisecond I announced our enemy’s intrusion) and hand axe, but lost sight of them just as soon. The fire from the two wagons had jumped to three more, and the valuable supplies within were feeding the flames instead of the hungry mouths they were meant for. The cattle and horses were yowling and neighing in fright as the natives sought to capture them, and I resisted a smirk when North Wind bucked one of them to kingdom come. That smirk died though when I saw that the natives had dismantled enough of the women’s barricade that they had extracted one of their members, a woman with a familiar bonnet on her head. She was screaming at him in the tongue they shared, but he was too preoccupied raising his axe above his head to listen to her. Braeburn shrieked over the clamor of battle, bowling over men with no concern for his own health in his mad scramble to get to her. Time ground to a halt as his raised axe was at its apex, ready to fall at any moment.

I did the sensible thing and snatched the unconscious leader, unholstered my gun, aimed it at the smoke suffocated sky, and pulled the trigger.

The specially modified double action mechanism did its thing as the hammer cocked back before slamming down on the bullet in the chamber and ejecting it from my pistol with a mighty explosion of light and heat. The roar of my revolver was like the thundering crack that follows in the footsteps of lightning, and all were silenced by its voice. The native clutching Strongheart in his grasp gaped at me and lowered his weapon, comprehending my wordless threat. The tip of the gun barrel was in contact with their leader’s temple, and one wrong move would seal his fate as surely as the remainder of the settlers in this disaster of a wagon train relief effort. It must have become hot from the expulsion of the bullet, as the barrel had sizzled when pressed to his flesh. I realized with some irony that I was branding him, and we weren’t far removed from the cattle pens.

“Listen up and listen good!” I projected with my hearty reserves of lungpower, “If any of you so much as twitch wrong, this man will help me paint a mosaic of gore on the desert floor with his grey matter!” I gestured threateningly with my magnum, and I meant it too, “Now who amongst you scum has the authority to treat with me?”

There were Buffalo Braves grabbing for their bows, planning to free their leader from my grasp, but I manually cocked the hammer of my gun and they flinched. I shook my head at them and glared. I was in no mood for games.

The man who was about to unwittingly kill the daughter of his Chieftain spoke, “I. Speak. After. Wild Bull” He pronounced slowly and unsurely, unused to the common language of the settlers.

I glanced at the unconscious man on my arm, ‘This is convenient’

Strongheart saw an opportunity to be of aid and stood upright. She unloosed a string of harsh sounding words in the Buffalo Brave language at the man who had nearly ended her. He drew back in shock as his eyes became the size of passion fruits, and he questioned her with that same language. I put ‘invent a language parsing spell’ on my mental checklist for later, alternatively contenting myself to read their emotional expressions.

I dragged Wild Bull’s bulk through a crowd of hostile natives (while eyeballing them carefully and reacting stiffly when they thought me unwise) and Strongheart and the Brave who was second in command met me halfway.

“Strongheart, you okay?” I said to her out of concern, “Are you unharmed?”

“I am fine, Zenith” She replied, though her voice was tremulous, “Falling Leaves leads this war party now that Wild Bull…” She cast a disgusted peek at his unwillingly sleeping form, “…is incapable of leadership”

“Release. Wild Bull” Falling Leaves demanded, his hands gripping hard at the knife in his sash.

“Tell him that I will release Wild Bull to his custody after he withdraws his warriors, and not a moment beforehand” I instructed Strongheart, who relayed my terms to her kinsman. He muttered something in return that Strongheart had him repeat clearly.

“He says that these settlers are guilty of crimes against our people, and deserve to be put to the blade” She interpreted for me.

“He’s got his head stuck up his ass if he believes that” I retorted as an aside.

Strongheart transmitted those words to him anyway, and he bristled with anger, growling his response. The native girl actually blushed and refused to enlighten me to his meaning.

“I am tired of this negotiating” I sighed, “Tell him that he and his men can all die here, or depart with their leader and their lives intact. His choice”

Strongheart did so, and Falling Leaves grit his teeth as he looked to his men, who returned varying expressions of disappointment, rage, and even respect in the eyes of a scant few warriors. I had slain many of their number, and incapacitated several more in the course of their attack. The oldest fighters would back down if necessary, while the younger and foolish ones wanted to have a go at me themselves, not that it would do them any favors.

Falling Leaves snorted and grunted something nigh unintelligibly to Strongheart, who nodded, “He will relent, he says” She smiled sadly, “But I must be restored to our village and my father, where I will wed Wild Bull the night after this one”

“Now wait just a cotton pickin’ second!” Braeburn interjected, pushing his way past a couple of warriors who dwarfed him without fear, “If she’s goin’ back to her village, then ah’m comin’ with her!”

“The same goes fer me, too!” Applejack joined her voice to her cousin’s as she followed at his heels. The edge of her claymore was suspiciously absent of blood, and her body bore the scratches of uncountable near misses to add to her guilt. She could not bring herself to kill, even in a kill or be killed situation. Oh, AJ. What am I gonna do with you?

“No, Applejack” I gainsaid her, “You need to escort what’s left of these people safely to Appleloosa and apprise the local authorities as to what happened here. I suspect they’ll have to bolster the town defenses, for safety’s sake in nothing else”

I anticipated her stubbornness ahead of her, “Please, Applejack” I pleaded, “Do it for me?”

“Fine!” She spat, “But ya owe me a big one!”

“Yes I will” I agreed, “How is everyone? Where is Trail Mix?”

Her face contorted in a grimace, “He took an arrow to his throat… I don’t think he’ll make it to Appleloosa. The others are downright spooked, but alive. Those fellers that Tagalong assigned to us are also… gone”

Which did not prove true for so many of our company, who lay scattered around us in multiple variations of death poses.

“You murderin’ bastards!” One of the women shouted from the relative safety of the barricades, “The Princess will see you burn for this!”

“That is not for you to decide!” I shut her up, “I know that many of us have lost good people tonight, but that breed of resentment will lead to continued bloodshed down the line, which is unacceptable”

The woman glowered at me and grumbled darkly, but disappeared underneath the shelter of the barricades regardless.

“You… Are. Leader?” Falling Leaves inquired in his low rumbly baritone.

“I am now” I answered, “You and I have that in common it seems”

He hummed, understanding that. He uttered a command that had the lion’s share of his men slink into the shadows of the night, while a smaller group persisted to see that I held up my end of the bargain. I let go of Wild Bull (a strand of static passing from my fingertips into his body unnoticed) and stepped six paces in reverse, my hand resting on the grip of my pistol in case they tried something irredeemably stupid. Falling Leaves carried Wild Bull himself while his bodyguard surrounded Braeburn and Strongheart, with each of them remaining a healthy distance from me and my Thunder-Horror. I holstered my gun and walked to the pens where North Wind was rearing up slightly and nickering, his blood up from the Buffalo Brave’s merciless incursion. The wagon train was a mess, and the survivors were fighting to contain the fires once the natives had vacated, with Applejack taking the lead and coordinating their efforts. I saw her level a concerned stare at me in the corner of my vision as I mounted up. With an acknowledging smirk, I clapped my heels to North Wind’s ribs and set off after the retreating Buffalo Braves.

Turns out the Buffalo Braves had been tracking us for a while, as a whole slew of their horses were parked less than a mile off from our campsite. The men I was affixing myself to were wary of my presence, but knew that any attempts to violently remove me would be met with instantaneous mortality, so they tolerated me. Braeburn and Strongheart had latched themselves together, much to the disapproval of their captors. Falling Leaves lent them a horse that its previous owner no longer had use for and they seated themselves on it, with me there to guard their wellbeing. We rode side by side for over a day after that, the scenery transforming from the dust and solidified clay of the hardpan desert wastes to the dried grass of the river plains that these Buffalo men made their livelihoods in. Wild Bull’s state of unconsciousness lingered inexplicably, and his fellow natives could not wake him no matter what they did. I ate my meals separately from the natives and cast a proximity alert spell to wake me if they had the gall to try and murder me in my sleep. A truce might have been called, but my ability to trust them had taken a more damaging hit than any they managed to land on me in the corral skirmish.

We headed out to the edge of a river that meandered across the plains and pursued its flow. Somehow the natives discerned when to change course and we eventually came upon your stereotypical injun village nestled at the borders of desert and desert plains. Teepees and some wigwams dotted the ground in manifold specks with smaller specks moving in and out of those. The village was heavily populated, matching Magiville in concentration of peoples. Despite their numbers, the nomadic lifestyle they led ensured that their village’s defenses were inadequate to deal with the raiders they were only recently inflicted with.

“Behold. Our. Village” Falling Leaves spoke to me, some pride saturating his tone, “Is. It. Not. Wonderful?”

“Real special” I rolled my eyes, “Let us move on. I wish to speak with your Chieftain”

We did so, riding into the village and attracting the gazes of many a native woman, who drew themselves from their work of skinning buffalo hides, crafting utensils out of their bones, and wasting little of their namesake animal. They searched amongst us for their husbands, sons, or brothers. Heartbreak appeared in the expressions of those who could not find their significant others, and those expressions soured into hatred when they beheld the foreigners trespassing on their sacred grounds. Their reactions ranged from spitting in the dirt, making what I assumed were insulting gesticulations, and glaring emotionlessly at us. Their negative sentiments did a one eighty as they descried the figure of Strongheart atop one of the horses, and their whoops and hollers were both noisy and contagious in their fervor. Before five minutes had expired, the whole village was screaming its lungs out.

All this early evening racket had summoned the grand Chieftain of course, who exited his teepee with a stoic expression gracing his countenance. An elegant headdress stuffed with feathers from all kinds of birds flowed down his shoulders and gave him that majestic aura associated with his type. His build was the epitome of brute like, and even I would have second thoughts about challenging this man to an arm wrestling match. Wild Bull was dwarfed by this man, and a traitorous thought hatched in my brain that he was not wrong to circumvent the unenviable task of taking him head on. Beside him was a hunched over man with neck beads, a unique black feathered headdress distinct to the Chieftain’s bright one, and an embroidering pattern to his clothing that Rarity would have reveled the complexity of.

“Ah… my daughter has been found, this is an auspicious day!” He remarked in a booming, throaty voice, “And the men responsible for the foul deed are here as well? The Great Spirit smiles upon me”

“The Great Spirit would have you study deeper into this before presuming its glory” The old man abreast of him muttered, his whitened eyes seemingly fixated on me.

“Is this so, Shaman?” The Chief scratched at his chin, “Hmmm… Then perhaps I will stay their execution an additional moment or so. Falling Leaves! How is it that you come to us with less than half the number of men Wild Bull set out with?”

“I. Sorry” The man apologized, ashamed of himself, “<We attacked a column of settlers coming from the North to reinforce the one’s at Appleloosa. Wild Bull waited for an opportune moment to strike at them when they were weakest and took it. This man on the massive horse is unlike any warrior I have ever seen. His name is Zenith, or so he chooses to be referred to. He defeated Wild Bull in single combat and he threatened him with a Thunder-Horror if we did not withdraw! Your future son in law will not wake due to his encounter with him. You daughter was journeying with him and the other we have here, and she swears that they are her guardians>” He inclined his head submissively, “<I will banish myself from the village if my decision displeased you, O’ stalwart one>” My translation spell interpreted for me, projecting floating subtitles for my eyes to read. I had to spend a few hours eavesdropping on them with it before the deciphering of their language could be complete, but now it worked like a charm. It was interesting how he left out the part where he would have murdered his daughter had I not intervened with the Thunder-Horror, but evidently Buffalo Braves could be hypocritical too.

Chief Thunderfeet narrowed his eyes menacingly at me, “You have a Thunder-Horror in your possession? The weapon that has killed dozens of my stouthearted Braves and kidnapped innumerable others to be doomed to a worse fate?”

“Ya huh” I said in the affirmative. I could always fly off if they ganged up on me.

It was then that the Chief did the unexpected, “May I have a look at yours?”

I obliged, unholstering my pistol (and causing those closest to me to blanch in fear) and handing it to the Chieftain from up on North Wind’s saddle. He fiddled with it and examined its workings, and even the shaman was intrigued by the spinning sound the rotating cylinder made when spun.

“Stronger than a hundred spears” Thunderfeet remarked, once satisfied, “But louder than a thousand as well” He added, “It is hard to believe that this is what you milkskins are waging war on us with”

“With respect, Chieftain Thunderfeet” I adjusted the collar of my duster, “You are too hasty with your judgments. The settlers are innocent of any wrongdoings committed with ill will towards your people”

He snorted, “Then tell me, stranger who bested my potential son in law… who is responsible?”

“That is what I am here to ascertain on behalf of the Crown” I levitated my gun from the Chieftain’s clutches and back into my holster. The people encapsulating us hissed at my blatant act of irreverence.

“A magic caster…” The Chieftain rumbled in dismay, “The bane of my curiosities” His gaze settled on his daughter and Braeburn, who had desired to stay out of the spotlight from the reserved way they were behaving, “Strongheart. Come… embrace your father” He held out his arms in a fatherly gesture, a smile on his face for the first instance since I had met him.

She did so happily, running into his arms as if she were a young child again.

“Oh, my little Strongheart!” He exclaimed in uncharacteristic relief, “How I prayed to the Great Spirit for you to return to us, and it has made it so. Why did you disappear from home?” He asked her, his papa bear mode activated.

“It’s not a story for the public to hear of, father, though I have many things to tell that I should have told you long before that” She excused, excellently diverting his suspicions with her own pressing words.

“So be it” He exhaled with fake resignation, before addressing the crowd, “Unlock the storehouses! Tonight we celebrate my daughter coming home to her people”

The denizens of the village all cheered in unison. Everyone except for the women whose husbands and sons were deceased vacated the area in a ten meter radius of the Chieftain’s teepee.

“Why do you linger?” The shaman piped up, “Your beloved one’s spirits are now joined with the Great Spirit. Do not grieve for their passing. Be at peace, as they are” The older women whose faith was resistant to change left us alone, while their younger daughter in laws begrudgingly followed.

“Come with me” The old man bid me as he scooted by me, and there was something about him that had me comply with his wishes without raising a fuss.

We entered the teepee after the Chief and his daughter, with Braeburn dragging his feet to their rear. The interior of the tent was adequate for fifteen people to sit around the crackling campfire in the middle. There was a latticework of cords and rope weaved out of buffalo hair. From it hung a diversified number of dream catchers and other fetishes that I surmised were meant to ward off evil while galvanizing what was good. There were mats on the floor that were cushioned with tatami like pillows that I was certain had to be from a settler’s town, as their flowery designs were too Arcanian to be the craftsmanship of the Buffalo Braves. The Chief sat cross-legged by the fireside and beckoned the other two to join him. Braeburn squatted crosswise to him while Strongheart sat to their respective left and rights. I would have sat with them, but the bizarrely intuitive shaman shook his head in the negative at me. This was a conversation betwixt the three of them alone.

“So…” The Chief of the roving Buffalo tribe stared across the fire to his opposite number, namely Braeburn, “You wish to take my only daughter’s hand in marriage?” This man was no blockhead. He saw the proximity of his daughter to the Appleloosan and inferred its context from there. And yet his expression betrayed nothing, much like me, which increased my admiration for his skill in keeping his opponents guessing.

“How did ya…?” Braeburn gulped nervously and pulled at his collar, “Y-yes sir- I mean Chief! I l-love your daughter very much, and would v-very much like to spend the rest of mah life with her, if’n that would be at all possible” He stammered like an adorable idiot. I couldn’t see for the life of me what Strongheart saw in him, but it was increasingly obvious that Braeburn had a noble heart, which is probably what had her falling for him to begin with.

He thrummed deeply, the vocalization vibrating in the closed space of the tent and adding to his imposing figure, “That is… a difficult proposition you propose, Braeburn of the Appleloosan Settlers. My daughter is rather precious to me, and not only because she is the sole blood of my blood, but because she is the vessel in which the spirit of the Braves lives on in future Chieftains, should she conceive children of her own” Strongheart blushed, the concept of bringing children of her own into this world weighing on her mind, “Tradition dictates that only a worthy man can guarantee the prosperous posterity of my people. And a man has already presented himself to be the Sun and Stars to her Moon”

‘Woah, picking up some serious Dothraki vibes here’ I humorously cogitated. Only these people did not worship their horses or make dried meat strips out of them, as far as I knew.

“A man who will not love her the way she deserves to be loved!” He adamantly insisted.

“Hmm… but why should I grant you, an outsider, her hand when it is betrothed to another?” He posed a difficult question, “Breaking a marriage oath is no laughing matter. Betrothals in our tribe have been upheld since the days of my father, and his father, and his father before him…”

He would have droned on, but Strongheart mercifully put a stopper on that, “Father! Is it not clear to you?” She sidled next to him and inserted her arm between his, “I love him too… as I can no longer picture my life without him in it. If you compel me to marry a man I could never love, it will be as if you plunged a knife into my heart yourself”

His eyebrows quirked at that, but he did not reply.

Braeburn struck while Strongheart’s iron was hot, “I am willin’ to carry out whatever service it takes to become a member of this tribe. If it means I can spend the rest of mah life with your daughter” They shared a touching look with each other.

“Do you swear to defend her honor, her virtue, and all that she is even if it necessitates laying down your life in exchange for hers?” The square jawed man put him through the wringer.

“I do” Braeburn vowed with no trace of hesitation or self doubt, “Forever” He added, nuzzling his woman.

“Then in sight of men and the Great Spirit” The shaman raised his arms above his head in what I figured was an official motion, “I pronounce you husband and wife”

Braeburn was shocked speechless for a minute, the same with Strongheart. So I reacted for them, “Huh? Just like that? What about making him an official member of the tribe? Isn’t there some grueling process or other that he must go through?” I was a sucker for particular traditions myself.

The Chieftain bore an amused glimmer on his mahogany irises, “Was he not present in a battle between milkskin and Brave? Does he not display the scars that acts of bravery would afford of him? My daughter loves this man, I can see it in her very soul, and this one demonstrates all of the qualities that I would expect of my future son in law,” He chortled to himself, “even if his flesh is lurid. By my authority as the head of the Buffalo Brave tribe, I would recognize him as a brother at our war councils, and a man with a perspective that is broadened beyond our own narrow one”

“I guess he has a point” I conceded, before rolling my hand at AJ’s now married cuz, “Aren’t you going to kiss your bride, Braeburn?”

He didn’t need to be prompted twice, planting his lips to his ladylove’s and passionately kissing her as he held her in his arms. Chief Thunderfeet seemed jubilantly happy for his daughter, and when he and the shaman locked gazes, an unspoken message passed between them. As the two disengaged from the other to come up for air, the Chieftain ushered them out of the tent, citing that it was time to proclaim the news to the rest of the village. The sounds of their combined, halfhearted protests were cut off as the tent flap overlapped onto itself. It was just the shaman and I now. He dug his hand into a buffalo leather pouch and retrieved some kind of powder from its contents. He tossed that powder onto the fire and it created quite the spectacular light show, shifting from the usual orange to a brilliant blue, a melancholy indigo, a virulent violet, and finally flipping the spectrum to settle on a mesmerizing shade of red. It may have been my overactive imagination, but I could have sworn that I saw indistinct shapes moving from within the fire… shapes that casted shadows on the spongy, flexible walls of the teepee. The fumes from the burnt powder suffused the air, and smelled the multitudinous way Elysian tea tasted.

“You carry a great darkness in your heart, chosen warrior of the stars” He articulated poetically, his cloudy corneas boring perfectly into mine contrary to his blindness, “One that will consume your soul entirely unless you devise a way to control or release it. A warrior of light with unfettered darkness inside of him will cast many shadows on those who follow him, and such a thing is dangerous for all who are involved” As if cued, the shadows began to take on more menacing shapes as they danced around us. Even the outline of the shaman himself was becoming hazy, as if he was there and yet somewhere else as well.

“Are you suggesting that I have a catharsis?” I pondered aloud, my words echoing in the tent. Or was it echoing in my mind? I felt funny, and yet I was unable to feel alarm at that either.

“I am suggesting that you purge yourself of this inner turmoil, lest it drags the one’s you love down with it” He countered, “You have already seen death, and you will see it many times over before you reach the end of your path. Beware the evil one,” The shadows became spindly, like spider legs, “for its poisonous influence has unfurled like a blanket over the central nations of the Earth, sowing hatred and reaping despair where the soils are most fertile. Even here its seductive whispers are heard, and they bring black tidings to those who can decipher its true meaning”

He went on, “Your worst enemy is up to its old tricks, and is employing some newer ones as well. It will utilize both overt and covert means to subdue the world, to make it fight amongst itself so it cannot stand united again like it did to its detriment eons ago. The past catches up with you. It knows of you, you who call yourself Zenith… as you have foiled a segment of its plans once before. It obsesses itself with finding you, and perhaps enthralling you as its most powerful servant. It will endeavor to tempt you as it has tempted countless before you, and when that fails, it will seek to harm you indirectly through those that you love”

‘Not my loved ones… no’ I groaned, my thoughts more audible than usual. The ticking of a clock that didn’t exist filled my peripheral senses.

“Keep them close” The shaman advised, “They are indescribably dear to you, like lifelines in an ocean of uncertainty. This is both fortunate and unfortunate. They are the one thing keeping that inner deadness of yours at bay, and as such, the evil one will target them however it can. They give you reason to resist its lure, and that makes them as much a threat to it as you are. You’re a curious one, I’ll admit. You’ve killed so many without second guessing yourself, and yet you respect the unspoken vows of the women you love. You would never betray them, even if they did not extend you the same courtesy”

“How do you know all this?” I gasped as electricity coursed through my spine, eliciting goose pimples on my flesh.

“My connection with the Great Spirit allows me to see past the physical realm and into the infinite vastness beyond our own. I am blind, and yet I can see the minutiae governing the higher mysteries dictating the finest points of each of our destinies. Yours will take you places you could not believe existed, ask things of you that you would never dream of, and there will be people depending on you in each of these lands. Much rests on your destiny, and even I cannot divine what sacrifices it will require of you to see it to its ultimate fulfillment” He explained.

Words came unbidden from my soul, “Why did they choose me? I’m not a savior, no matter how much others will claim I am”

“That is a question that only you can answer” The shaman told me, before his tone deviated from its mystical qualities, “They come. Wake up!”

I inhaled sharply through my nose as I picked myself off the floor. I had fallen asleep and slumped forward until the nub of my nose was rubbing the dirt sometime ago, as it was dark outside the tent. The shaman was nowhere to be seen, and even his footprints suggested that he was here one moment and had mysteriously vanished the next.

‘And that’s partly why I followed Nancy Reagan’s Just Say No policy strictly to the letter when I was a wee lad’ I struggled to form coherent speech in my head. I didn’t even want to know what I sounded like.

Despite the strangeness of its presentation, his words resonated with me. I needed to be extra protective around the women in my life, but in a way that wouldn’t seem overbearing. Especially since the Great Dissonance thing that I was here to defeat would seek to use them as weapons against me, which I still didn’t quite understand. The only people who knew about my relationships were the people I was in relationships with. I might have been getting accustomed to this polyamory shtick, but that didn’t mean I divulged it to anybody outside that sacred trust. I got to my feet and dusted myself off, shelving all further thoughts of destiny and all that jazz.

I rubbed at my eyes to rid them of the blurriness that the residual malaise had imparted on me, and I almost rubbed my eyeballs raw before I realized that this wasn’t going away as quickly as I yenned it to. I stumbled outside to find the nearest healer to recommend a treatment for screwy vision and paused at what I discovered as I pushed aside the flap of the tent. Flickering shadows painted the ground and sky, and the natives milling about the village or dancing around bonfires as they celebrated the marriage of their Chieftain’s daughter to an adopted member of their tribe were illuminated with white light. Some lights were whiter than others, but each one was unique and beautiful in its own right. I idly wondered if I had gained a vision setting for Soulfire, but dismissed that as being ridiculous. My eyes were sending the correct information, but my brain had taken a holiday and wasn’t up to the task without a little time to cool off.

I granted its request, retreating into the Chieftain’s tent to wait out the residuum of my whacky, mind altering Peyote substitute’s influences. Queerly enough, the drug had only affected my mind for the most part, as my body still responded to commands, albeit with hesitation and sluggish locomotion. I swore that if I ever saw that crazy blind shaman again I’d tear the caul caking his eyes clean off. That was two things now that I had partaken in that I would not have done in my home world, drink alcohol, and do hallucinogenic drugs. I did not care if they were prophetic, they left you with nasty sensation in your lower extremities afterwards, or at least this drug did.

My brooding was rudely interrupted by the telltale signs of shouting, coupled with the panicked screams of women coming from the outer fringes of the village. This din was punctuated every once and a while with a sharp, popping smack and vicious laughter emanating from some scumbag. I instinctively charged out of that tent with my hand on my gun. My presence was vital out there, my sense of unbalance be damned! There was a spate of Buffalo Brave women and children scurrying for refuge at the center of the village, while men armed with bows went the opposite direction. Needing a superior vantage to survey the carnage, I spread my wings and climbed a decent height off ground with a series of flaps. I observed what was happening with my eagle eyed vision. People of pale white light were running and shouting as dark shadowy men on horseback rode them down like dogs and snickered heartlessly as they killed them. The white lights disappeared with their demise, and by then I had an inkling as to what my modified eyesight was showing me. These native Buffalo Braves were relatively pure down to their souls, while these outlaws on horseback were so dark in their deeds that they were like living shadows. Though I saw plenty of lights in the protected center of the village were greyer than their counterparts. My Soulsight must have been tooled for people only, as animals were vaguely shaped blobs that lacked these pretty lights.

I swooped into action, where the greatest numbers of shadow men were causing havoc in a semi clearing with four large bonfires where festivities were taking place. The main village of the Buffalo Braves had plenty of men to defend it once they got their faculties in order, but the celebrations decreed by the Chieftain meant that many of them this night were drunk off their asses on fermented buffalo’s milk. Those that were coherent enough to pull a bow string were being shot or run down by the dark men on horseback. These men meant business, and any who resisted were permanently dispatched. One or two of which had what appeared to be volley guns, which were essentially multi-barreled short range muskets and used to devastating effect on fleshy targets.

“<To arms, to arms my brothers! To ar-> RAGGH!” A native man was trampled to death by a flood of his own people, who were too occupied hotfooting it to anywhere that would be their sanctuary to realize what they had done to their kinsman.

Why the outlaws chose to converge on this spot made sense if you considered the situation from their twisted perspective. This was the nearest wide open area where the Buffalo Braves were congregating. There was an abundance of exposed women and children that were ripe for plucking, and they availed themselves of the diverse selection. The shadow horsemen that weren’t brandishing flintlock styled pistols like bandaleros were singling out and lassoing fleeing natives. A Buffalo Brave warrior who sought to get an arrow off at a man dragging a screaming woman behind him on his horse was blasted from a man on his six, his white light extinguished forevermore. They were getting swatted like flies, and as per usual, I was the only person around that could put a damper on things for the enemy. So I ferreted out the highest concentration of shadow men and prepped a magical outburst spell that would knock them off their horses and make them easy pickings for me. I dived like a human arrow and impacted into the earth (after double casting an inertial dampener spell on myself, obviously), throwing out a wave of magical energy that swept the seven horses of the shadow men off their hooves and onto their rumps. By an odd stroke of luck, one man’s gun went off from the act and the round tore into an adjacent man’s chest, killing him.

I unholstered my magnum and without waiting for the bewildered men to recover, shot them all dead with a single clip. I flicked my cylinder to the open position and telekinetically inserted a fresh round of ammunition. I magicked over their unfired weapons with the dual purpose of keeping one for study (though it was a glorified paperweight without any ammo in the chamber) and to arm the locals, some of whom recognized me from the wagon train incident and rallied to me, as I was the most competent fighter in the field. I dove behind the cover of a water barrel as a hail of lead came my way from these men’s friends, dropping some of my injun pals and scattering them once more. My cover was rapidly disintegrating, and my clothes were becoming wet from the water. I blind fired over my head, spraying and praying that I hit someone.

“ACK! Damned sumbitch got me!” An outlaw cursed.

A manly yelp of pain answered that prayer as one of the men had his arm torn off by a hollow point bullet. I reloaded within the span of a second, and tagged my opponents with True Sight (which only made their outlines brighter for some reason) before relocating to supplementary cover. Any men who attempted to escape from the area with their prizes found their horses shot out from under them. I didn’t enjoy the cruelty I was visiting upon those horses, but their owners had to be stopped at all costs, and I placed a priority on human life first. Fluttershy would understand.

Reinforcements arrived in the form of the Chieftain and his twenty strong bodyguard, who had taken advantage of the distraction I created and rushed in bows blazing, felling five from their steeds. The bushwhacked outlaws realized that this was one raid where they wouldn’t have their way and wisely decided to beat a retreat. One man in a black bowler hat and in desperate need of a shave refused to give up without putting one round of musket ammo where it would do maximum damage. He galloped his horse through the thicket of soaring arrows in a beeline for the Chieftain. There was this maniacal grin on his face as he got within firing range of the massive man, only for his horse’s heart to spontaneously explode with the encouragement of my meticulously aimed bullet. The dead equine plowed into the dirty floor and flung its rider from the saddle, where he skidded to a halt less than a meter from the man’s feet.

“Welcome to my village” The Chief deadpanned to him, “A welcome you have surely overstayed” He motioned to his two closest men, “Get him up, and deprive him of his weapons” His men obeyed without difficulty.

“Where have you and your gang of miscreants taken these people’s family members?” I asked him.

“Bet you wouldn’t be so tough without that fancy pistol of yours, ya son of a tavern wh-” My boot made an imprint on his stomach before he could complete that sentence.

“OOPMH! Heh heh… They’re having the time of their lives workin’ in the darkness! Don’tchu fret, the twins are takin’ real good care of them!” The outlaw leered at us, hawking a globule of phlegm from his throat at us, which we both dodged.

‘The Twins…?’ Could he be indicating who I thought he was?

One of the natives keeping him restrained worked him over a bit until the Chieftain decided that he would not spill his guts of his own free will, so he assisted him in doing so with a scarily big hunting knife the Chieftain had traded for with the Appleloosans. He ordered half of his men to dispose of the corpse and tend to the wounded, while the other half would make an account of their losses.

“I must thank you for defending my people, Zenith” The Chieftain congratulated me, “Many more of my people would have been lost tonight had you not intervened”

“Defending those in need is a part of what I do” I brushed off the praise, “Where is Braeburn and Strongheart?”

At that the Chieftain’s stance became nervous, “They refrained from celebrating with us or partaking of buffalo stew. The last I saw of them, they had wandered off on their own to have some alone time. I pray to the Great Spirit that they were nowhere near the fighting, but Braeburn is not a coward. He would defend my daughter to his dying breath, as he pledged”

Fate must have been conspiring against us, as a bruised and battered Braeburn limped towards us. One of this eyes had swollen and a bullet had grazed his thigh, shearing a red mark along its surface. I ran over to meet him and support his weight on my shoulders. The Chief on the other hand, had deduced what this meant and was in his face straightaway.

“Braeburn! Where is my daughter?” He roared at the beaten man.

Braeburn sniffled and whimpered, unable to muster the words. The Chief’s stoic features melted as unleashed a wail of grief that was mirrored several times over that night.

⁂

As to be expected, Chieftain Thunderfeet did not receive the news of his only daughter’s kidnapping well. So he banished Braeburn from the village until he met his obligations as a husband and brought her home safe and sound as he did before. However, before we were forced off the village territory, I visited the medicine tent where Wild Bull was being tended with herbal remedies to wake him from his slumber. The truth was that I had rendered him comatose with a spell that was borderline forbidden to use. He would not wake unless I removed the nigh undetectable enchantment, and his generous muscle mass would deteriorate over the years. It was merciful compared to outright killing him, so I had no regrets. His comatose state also made the task of delving into his brain and reviewing his memories a cakewalk, thanks to my many dream walking sessions spent with Luna enlightening me to the inner workings of a person’s sleeping noggin. I extracted one critical name from his mind: Crooked Cards. The man was the insider that Wild Bull had divulged his people’s secrets to, and was a notorious gambler at one of Appleloosa’s shady saloons, the Salt Lick.

Braeburn rode to Appleloosa with me on North Wind’s back and we reunited with Applejack at her cousin’s simple wooden house with the lime green panels. We debriefed her on what occurred at the Chieftain’s village while she likewise informed us about the condition that Appleloosa was in. Since only a mere quarter of our wagon train’s beneficial supplies were delivered (with over seventy settlers dead to show for our efforts. Celestia would be furious, but there was hope to bring peace to the western natives and the southern settlers), we had prolonged the deadline to Appleloosa’s food shortages by a week. Once that week had passed though, the settlers would have to abandon this town for less harassed settlements. Chief Thunderfeet was skeptical to the settler’s innocence, contrary to what he had seen, but was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt due to my actions and Braeburn’s (though not as much after Strongheart’s inopportune kidnapping). He sent out riders to each of the tinier Buffalo Brave villages instructing them to switch to defense alone.

Applejack was legitimately sorry that Strongheart was literally torn from her cousin’s arms, and admitted then that she wished she could have been nicer to her while she had the chance. In spite of his depression over losing the love of his life to the same bandit raids that were plaguing the natives, the only thing that seemed to get him out of his funk was for Applejack to cheekily suggest that he show me a tour of the town. Before then I had never seen a man go from melancholic to ecstatic in five seconds flat, and I was swept up in his whirlwind as he whizzed me out the door. Appleloosa was your typical Wild West style boomtown, like a fusion of Tombstone and Abilene with a sprinkling of Armadillo for good measure. The train line stopped adjacent to the town (because it sped up the transfer of precious metal ores from the mining operations nearby) and continued over the horizon to the lands at the extreme edges of the Princesses’ authority. I hardly had a minute to analyze a single building adequately before Braeburn dragged me to the next location of interest. We pored over the sheriff’s office, the milliner’s shop, and that clock tower where the regional governor presided over the daily operations of the town.

“And this here is the whorehouse!” Braeburn enthusiastically concluded his guided tour with a grin, motioning to an unassuming building to his six.

That tripped me up, “Wait… what?” I incredulously uttered, doing a double take.

He chuckled at the confounded expression on my face and smiled slyly at me, “I was jus’ checkin’ to see if you were listening’, pardner. Prostitution’s an illegal and rightly immoral profession in these here parts. You see anythin’ like that happenin’, you let me or Sheriff Silverstar know, m’kay?”

I nodded mutely, “Sure, sure. Where’s the Salt Lick Saloon?”

“Eager to wet yer palette?” He inquired, his energy from acting the role of tour guide slowly forsaking him as he began to subconsciously hunch his shoulders.

“Something like that” I scanned my surroundings for a wooden depiction of a salt lick in this bustling, skirmish weary town. Once I caught sight of it, I made my way towards it with an enthusiasm whipped Braeburn lagging in the rear.

The Salt Lick resembled your run of the mill, western themed saloon. It even had the swinging doors. Lively, jaunty music emanated from within, and some part of me felt that it was a tune that I had heard before. I pushed through the hinging doors and saw a scene that I believed only existed in the movies. Inside was a bar with a stage in the background. Nobody was conducting any performances at the moment, but the grey whiskered piano guy didn’t seem to care. Cigarette smoke clogged the air and billowed from a green felt table where the betting man’s card games were transpiring. Drunken bar patrons swigged at their drinks and swayed uneasily in their chairs after imbibing a few too many. The barman was a serious fellow with a handlebar mustache and a monocle suspended over his right eye. In all honesty that man must have originated from Concordia, because he had more class in one of his cufflinks than everyone in the establishment possessed before we entered.

I approached the counter and hailed the barkeep, who finished pouring a drink from one of his customers before focusing on us.

“Welcome to mah establishment!” The barkeep greeted us cheerfully in a practiced local accent, “What can I do ya fer?”

“We’re looking for information” I told him in my actual accentless accent, “And maybe a few drinks while we’re here”

He smiled cordially, “Well you came to the right place! The gossip here flows almost as freely as the beer!” He exclaimed jovially, despite the looming threat of vengeful Buffalo Braves hanging over the town, “Anything in particular you interested in?” It was not lost on me that he reverted his accent back to his Concordian one.
I slapped a hundred bit coin on the counter and flicked it towards the baffled barkeep, “A man named Crooked Cards. Would he happen to play games of chance here at this saloon from time to time?”

The bartender surreptitiously pretended to wipe the counter while scooping in the coin, “Perhaps” He answered in a low conspiratorial voice, “But you did not get this information from me”

“Any idea where I might find him?” I gestured twice to the man’s homebrewed beer.

“Hmm…” His brown furrowed, “My memory isn’t what it used to be. A lot foggier these days” He prompted greedily, but that was how this sort of thing went down.

“May this golden piece of sunshine evaporate that fog, and let the light of truth shine forth!” Was my hammy retort, my munny bag minus another hundred bits.

This barkeep was beginning to like me, “Amen to that, brother. You’re in luck, since Crooked is right over there at yonder table, and he’s sometimes gone for weeks at a time! He’s here to swindle those poor fools out of their money as usual”

“Glad I’m not one of them” I remarked, examining this informant of a man from afar and watching him clean house at the card table. The three other men laid down their hands for the pot, which consisted of everybody’s bits. Crooked grinned a sickly grin as his hand trumped all others.

He cackled and raked in the bits as the others moaned their collective disappointment, “Now now, fellers! A win’s a win!” He pulled a hundred bit coin from the pile and tossed it onto the table with a flip, “Here. I won’t have it said that I left y’all with nothin’!”

The losers at the table all stared at the coin for a long moment before giving each other nasty glares. It devolved into a shouting match of who had the second rate hand and therefore deserved the coin. I snorted in disgust at the underhanded act as Crooked slinked up the staircase and presumably towards his rented lodgings.

“How long do you reckon he’ll be here for?” I inquired of the barkeep, spending one last coin.

“I reckon until tomorrow morning” He replied graciously, “He usually shoots the breeze with some friend of his with quite the tan”

I wanted to facepalm at how ignorant people really were of the Buffalo Braves, but suppressed the urge.

I was about to tug at Braeburn’s vest and notify him that I had all I came for when the universe decided that I needed more than I currently craved and desired to up my criteria. A man’s ingress into the Saloon had both of our attention. It had my attention because the bulges at his hips were unmistakably in the form of guns, while it had Braeburn’s attention for disparate reasons.

Braeburn apparently had met him under less pleasant circumstances, “You’ve got stones the size of boulders on you, showin’ up here, Mister co-leader of the band of outlaws who’d soon shoot a man before attemptin’ to pry him from his lover the fair way” Braeburn glared jagged daggers at the man as he came to a halt within a few feet of us. Which was close enough to smell his putrid breath, tragically.

“You’re easy men to find. And fair ain’t how I ride. As for your point… this establishment is open to the public, is it not?” The brazen co-leader of the outlaws grinned, flashing us his half rotted teeth. He reminded me of a huskier version of Lee Van Cleef, but with less style.

“To honest citizens of the town, not men of your kind! If’n you can be called men a’tall!” Braeburn growled.

He ignored that, focusing on me, “You’re the one that’s been wreaking havoc with our lucrative operations in this dustbowl, aren’tcha? The one who impeded us at the main village? That takes skill. Have yourself a drink! On me” He offered me in a snide tone, leaning against the counter. His free hand pulled the material of his weather worn, brown duster aside to reveal the pistols holstered at his hip.

I met his coal dark eyes, “Awfully decent of you” I exhibited no fear. The Flintlocks at his hips were from a bygone age by my standards anyway. One shot for every ten seconds and inaccurate at most distances too. Up this close though, getting shot with one of those was bound to hurt, so I kept friendly.

“Bartender!” The big, greasy brigand spoke up with a grin, “Give him a Pit Viper Surprise, on me!”

“Yes sir!” The barkeep went to a special cupboard marked with strange symbols and opened it up. Inside were bottles that looked more like they belonged in a chemical station cabinet than in a saloon. Somewhere in the back of my head, this scene was nostalgically reminiscent to something from my childhood.

I licked my lips. This stuff didn’t look a third as poisonous as that crap that Berry Punch concocted for me that one occasion. That is consequentially the last time I ever get anything mildly potent at her establishment. The barkeep mixed the liquids together and swirled them with a stirring rod before nervously setting it before the man who ordered him to make it. The bandit stared at him in amusement before slapping the glass over to me. I caught it mid slide and downed it in a single gulp, twitching my jaw left to right as the liquid burned its way down my gullet. It was a bit on the spicy side, but otherwise was a sip of Cholula sauce compared to the Black Death (As Berry should have named her concoction) that I had before making a fool of myself in front of Lyra.

My antagonist was impressed, “Well whataya know, the man can hold his liquor!” He wiped a tear from his eye as he laughed, “It’s a cryin’ shame that you can’t be one of us. The wages that the Twins set for us are… adjustable shall we say. We get to rid the south of those savages, and we have a helluva time doin’ it”

He sighed, “But there are fun times and then there’s business. You two interrupted our last cullin’, and we can’t let go of that lightly. So here’s what you two are gonna do” His voice became sinister, “About thirty miles from this town is another one, an abandoned one by the name of Tumbledown Tree. You two are gonna meet us there in the middle of the street at midday sharp tomorrow so we can settle our accounts like men, instead of animals. Do you understand me?”

“And why we would do that when I have my own accountant?” Braeburn snarked at him, the alcohol chipping at his self control.

“Cause if you don’t, your lady friend of the native persuasion is gonna be real disappointed” His forked tongue was practically tasting the air as he spoke, “In fact, the boys and I might jus’ take turns comfortin’ her in her emotional distress”

Braeburn’s pupils were pinpricks at this unfortunate chunk of news.

“Now you better show up, golden boy,” He spat mockingly, “or I’ll slit that buffalo whore’s throat mahself”

Braeburn bristled and moved to throttle him, but I restrained him before he did something he could not take back.

“I ain’t no raconteur… but I can match you wit for twit, I guarantee you!” He all but hissed at him.

The brute of a man chuckled, “Your butt buddy there has finer sense than you do, boy”

My eyes narrowed, “Might I know your name, if you would be so kind?” I fluttered my eyelashes at him because I was the Prince of sociopathic apathy.

He scoffed, disinterested, “What’s it to you?”

“I’d like to attach a label to that ugly mug of yours, before you die” I calmly replied, no hint of emotion in my voice.

“Heh! That’d be the day! T’woud be mah pleasure. I’m Angel Eyes” He removed his hat and bowed mockingly, “And yours?”

I wasn’t sure why, but I decided to have a little fun with this, “Arch Stanton”

“Well, Arch Stanton” He stood to his feet and walked away from us, “Hope yer ready to meet yer maker”

“I am, actually!” I called out to him, “Are you?”

He waved his hand back at me noncommittally and exited the saloon. Past the swinging doors I could see a whole gaggle of men on horseback who were itchin’ for a fight. Their co-leader relayed the news to them and they had predatory smiles on their faces as they galloped out of town with all due haste.

“Why’d you tell him your name was Arch Stanton?” Was the first thing that came out of his mouth, “It’s a tad dishonest, don’t ya think?”

I shrugged, “Your cousin in the Element of Honesty, not me”

Braeburn’s bravado dissolved once his rationality manifested, “Oh… we gotta talk to the Sheriff about this”

Our next stop after the saloon was the Sheriff’s, which was a blue wood paneled building with three wooden walls and one constructed out of cobblestone bricks, and you only get one guess as to which side that one was on. Silverus Silverstar was a middle aged, brown haired man with a mustache similar in likeness to the barkeep’s at the Salt Lick. His garments were all denim jeans, a cotton shirt, a denim vest with a namesake silver star badge pinned to it, and a red bandana around his neck to complement the one running along the crown of his hat. He had three deputies on hand to deal with emergencies. The first was Clinky Keys, who was a part time pianist at every saloon and tavern in town, and who was responsible for locking inmates in. The second was Lone Star, who modeled himself after his older mentor. Lastly there was Shooting Star, who was the only man in town who managed to get his hands on a one of a kind firearm that had a flip cocking action. Braeburn thought the world of the Sheriff, but the man I saw in that building was more interested in hiding behind his desk than riding out to face down evil where it reared its ugly head.

“C’mon Sheriff, ya gotta do sumthin’ for us!” Braeburn begged of him, “Have deputy Shootin’ Star accompany us to watch our backs. He’s the only other guy ah know who has a Thunder-Horror and knows how to use it!” The other being myself, of course.

“They’re labeled as firearms, Braeburn” He corrected him, “As the duly sworn Sheriff of this here town of Appleloosa, ah’m compelled to protect it. This little duel of yours with those wretched miscreants lies outside of its boundaries, therefore I regret to say that I cannot lend you an extra gun, as it would leave this town woefully without its sole shooter, and with the Braves poised to attack us at any minute I’m unable to part with that kind of talent” He regretfully informed us, “What I can do however, is offer you mah prayers of hope that you might prevail in this endeavor. If not… well at least the undertaker will get some extra business” He said, injecting some of his black humor into our discourse.

‘That’s a real reassuring vote of confidence right there’ I expected better of Celestia’s lawmen, but I supposed that they had their limits.

“C’mon Braeburn,” I pulled at him, “we're not going to receive the help we want here. Frontier Justice will have to suffice”

He was exasperated, “But you’re an Age-”

“No” I shushed him.

As I spun in place, Silverstar noticed the sigil on the hilt of my Mage-blade, which was strapped to my belt, “Hold on a tick… aren’t you that burgeoning Agent that the Princess announced some days ago?”

“Possibly” I verbally swerved, “Why did you ask?”

“You’re based in Magiville, aren’t you?” He grinned, “That’s where my niece lives!”

I stifled a sigh, “Is your niece named Silver Spoon by any chance?” He wobbled his head in the affirmative, “You need to advise her to make some friends… emphasis on the pluralization” I made myself scarce.

There would be no aid from his end, even for an Agent of the Crown. I would need to have a chat with one of the Princesses regarding the law in these parts at some other time. I had to prepare Braeburn for a showdown, Arch Stanton style.

⁂

Of course people couldn’t keep their bloody mouths shut. Virtually everyone had been eavesdropping on the challenge issued to us by Angel Eyes, and they simply were compelled to tell their friends and their friend’s friends about it. By morning, everybody in Appleloosa was watching from the windows and everybody held their breath as we exited the Saloon for some liquid courage (all for Braeburn’s sake) and made for the posts where our horses were hitched. The bell in the church’s belfry rung out once, signaling the onset of noon in half an hour. I’ll admit, numerically we were at a disadvantage. Smoky Joe’s (the name of the uglier co-leader) Gang outnumbered us by a good five to one ratio. I was given a rundown by the local townsfolk into the individual identities of this ornery gang of outlaws, which not only committed atrocious crimes against the natives, but the settlers too. It was me and Brae, versus ten of the meanest outlaw rabble rousers in the Mild West. On top of this, they all had firearms while Brae only retained an old family crossbow for defense, and I had Dee-Dee, which was unproven in an actual duel so far.

He was a decent shot with it from what I witnessed back in Blood Gulch (as the name of our fateful encampment was christened) against the Buffalo Braves, but he might as well have been armed with a knife for all the good it would do him in a gunfight. It wasn’t all bad news though. The game changing means for winning this fight rested stoically on my thigh. I was glad that I mentally forwent a bandolier and opted for a smaller and visually inconspicuous ammo belt when Discord conjured this for me. Nobody truly knew what kind of extreme firepower I was packing based on first glance, and even the outlaws had to have been fidgeting.

One might wonder, why did I name my semi magical Magnum after my adventuress girlfriend? Well I think it should be obvious. Being that both of them are loud mouthed, hit a hell of a lot harder than you’d expect at first glance, and both radiate this latent, sensual energy the longer you behold them. And no, I’m not comparing my gun with a phallic symbol. Freud was out of his mind.

We mounted up on North Wind and Dusk Breeze, who faithfully conveyed us across the desert to this ghost town where our showdown would transpire. Applejack remained behind (which took about as long as you can imagine it did), with clenched fists and a reddish countenance. I persuaded her that it was better that she leave this matter to us, since she wasn’t versed in ranged combat and I would see her alive and unspoiled rather than dead and full of lead. I hammered the concept of ‘gun beats knife nine times out of ten’ into her thick skull, and she relented sometime at two in the morning, which was fine by me. Braeburn needed the sleep more than I did. I had the solemn tranquility in me knowing that I was about to confront evil, and I had the means to wipe it out with an elementary pull of the trigger. I refilled my Magnum’s ammo (less painful the second occasion, though it did not have to generate as many rounds) and my belt was studded with the shiny shell casings.

Tumbledown Tree was yet another quintessential ghost town. The paint of the buildings had been stripped away by sandstorms, the structures had actually crumbled in places, and there was an aura of desolation about the town that I could sense even from a comfortable viewing distance. Braeburn was daunted, but I urged my steed on and he reluctantly followed. The men waiting for us there would have seen our faint dust cloud, and were likely setting up an ambush in case the ‘honorable meeting’ went south for them (Heh, south). Being the cynic I am, I had accepted these possibilities and prepared myself for them. I fingered the pockets of my duster where two flashbangs were waiting to light up the world. They would be handy in room clearing, if it became necessary to end these outlaws here and now.

We stopped at the fringes of the ghost town and lashed our horses loosely (I’d be damned before I let a Royal Stallion fall into the hands of some no good outlaws) to the decrepit posts that were somehow still standing. My acute hearing discerned the breathy whinnies and neighs of horses on the other side of the ostensibly abandoned ghost town, so our adversaries had done us that much courtesy at least. It was about a quarter to twelve when we marched out into the street. Braeburn put on a brave face as we walked the dusty road to meet with our opponents. But even without casting an empathic spell, I could sense the dread that was radiating off of him based on the subtle shakes of the wood and iron crafted weapon he cradled in his hands. Speaking of opponents, I could see the ashen haired Smoky Joe with four of his goons flanking him as we got closer (out of order it was Angel Eyes, Black Bert, Bronco Bill, and Unlucky Pip). This was cause for minor concern, where were the other five members of the gang? Where were Pickpocket Pete, Grim Gravel, Bandana Sam, Cricket Cob, and Crackers?

“So y’all actually showed up!” Angel Eyes slow clapped as we were within hearing range, “Of you I had no doubt, I saw the fire in your eyes, but him?” He pointed to my companion, “He looks about ready to piss hisself!” His colleagues shared a laugh as they made Braeburn squirm without touching him.

I was not amused, “Are you here to make jokes? Or are you here to fight?”

“We gotta have our fun first before we kill ya” Smoky Joe stated, puffing from a cigarette in his mouth, “That’s how we like our sport”

“Think he’s got a point lads” The short Pip chimed in, “Let’s get done with this so we can go back to the feckin mines”

Black Bert smacked him upside the head, “Mind what you say, ya lil’ twerp! That’s supposed to be our secret!”

“It won’t matter” Angel Eyes excused dismissively, unveiling his onboard arsenal of guns, “They’ll take it to their graves, same as us. Any last words?”

“This ain’t Dodge Junction,” I said, “and you ain’t Wild Bill Hickok” I was in the zone, “These will not be my last words” I predicted, shifting into a quick draw position with my holster leg slightly ahead of my other to facilitate clearing seven inches worth of barrel from the holster’s maw. With my other hand, I swept aside my duster and pinched the material into the crease of the holster to keep it unobstructed.

Silence came over the town after my cocky display of defiance and our epic stare down commenced. I flexed my hand, which was positioned scant centimeters above the handle of my gun. Randomly, I whistled the intro notes to the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly even though no one here would get that reference.

Smoky Joe’s hand shot downwards first, and my self augmenting spells went into effect. The flow of time relative to my perception slowed to a significant degree, and each of my opponents seemed as if they were immersed in a tub of molasses. A targeting reticle aligned with my barrel traced the outline of Smoky Joe’s gun as he gripped the handle. In one smooth flowing motion, I pulled back my magnum, cocked the hammer with a thumb, and squeezed the trigger. The bullet velocity of my gun was so great that even my heightened senses could barely keep up with the speed with which it flew out of the barrel. The heavy slug slammed into Smoky Joe’s hand before he could leave leather and pulped it. I fanned the hammer (not normally possible on a double action, but mine was modified to do that) and sunk .44 caliber bullets into Angel Eyes’ forehead, Black Bert’s ribcage, and Unlucky Pip’s manhood (which was queer, because I was aiming for his heart). Bronco Bill had rolled out of the way as he provided covering fire for his boss, who was howling as he clutched at the ruins of his smoking hand (heh, more puns). This fight wasn’t won yet though, and a holler from Bronco Bill had the windows to our left and right smashed open to allow the other gang members to rain lead down on us.

One of them somehow hauled a puckle gun upstairs and was using it to keep Braeburn and me suppressed while we used a section of emptied crates as cover on the right side of the street. We were the textbook definition of pinned down, and our cover wouldn’t shield us from harm forever. Braeburn had not even fired his crossbow yet! I looked around frantically for a solution when I descried the tin covering a lamp anchored to the wall. I glanced down to my magnum and saw that emblem for chaos was growing incrementally brighter. I pressed the button and licked at my index finger, before sticking it slightly above my head to test the wind current.

‘Oh, dakka huh? I can speak that language too, and I can speak it more fluently than you!’ I sang in my mind. I may have been terrible at math, but I knew my Triggernometry.

I smiled as the results proved sufficient and I took aim at the lamp covering. Defying multiple laws of physics, the chaos infused bullet ricocheted off the lamp covering to sail directly into the man gunning for us from the balcony window. He died and the hailstorm of bullets lessened in severity as his weapon ceased spitting balls of lead or iron at us.

“How the hell did he do that!?” I heard someone exclaim, further detracting from the concentrated gunfire.

Mustering his courage, Braeburn poked his head out from cover and zeroed in at the man who thought asking idle questions in the middle of combat was a smart idea. His crossbow thwipped and the man’s next vocalization wasn’t coherent enough to understand.

“We may be outnumbered, Braeburn my friend…” I inserted six bullets into the cylinder of my gun and flicked it shut, giving the chamber a spin for good measure, “…but we are not outgunned” I grinned roguishly at him and materialized out of cover, taking aim and pulling the trigger. The first shot sailed straight into the arm of one of Joe’s backup goons, taking it clean off and putting him out of the fight with a holler. I drew a bead on another musket toting lackey using the balcony as his perch and squeezed off another round, this one striking him clean between the eyes… though the results of that bull’s eye were anything but clean.

I heard shuffling footsteps above us and unsheathed my Tantō to hold in my left hand while I brandished my gun in my right. I dove into a dilapidated mess that was once a saloon and charged for the stairs. Crackers (who was barely into adulthood) emerged from the doorway and aimed his gun at me, only for it to misfire as the flint striker failed him.

I rushed him before he could correct it and jammed the barrel of my Dee-Dee up his nose, “Wrong move, sonny Jim” His head became a misty red aerosol as the bullet obliterated his noggin and over penetrated into the ceiling.

Cricket Cob came shortly after him and he paused to stare at the remains of Cracker’s skull before the edge of my Tantō found purchase in his neck. He gurgled out an incomprehensible set of curses as he drowned in his own blood. With this side of the town empty of bad guys, I sidled up to a window and peered outside while proactively reloading my gun. Smoky Joe and the second survivor of the quick draw seemed to have taken refuge inside, and all guns were quiet.

It was at that point that Braeburn did something unforgivably stupid. He charged the last known position of Smoky Joe and his second whilst screaming like a man possessed. I saw him face plant into the dirt as a round smashed through his crossbow and struck him in his left arm, sending fragments of wood and who knows else to embed themselves into his flesh. I did not cry out for him, as to keep my position hidden from the enemy. His love fueled stupidity did serve some purpose however, as I got enough of an outline of the man responsible to tag him with True Sight. It was Smoky Joe, as he was holding the gun in his left hand while quivering from the blood loss. His comrades would likely be nearby, protecting their boss from me. It wouldn’t avail them though, as I had brought some surprises of my own. I sheathed my Tantō and removed my flashbangs. They had a three second primer, which was more than sufficient for me to yank their activation rings and chuck them into the room where Smoky Joe was holed up in. The twin explosions of noise and light would disorient the rest, and allow for me to dispatch them easily.

I spread my wings and glided from the balcony of the building I was in to the opposite side of the street. I entered the showroom where Smoky Joe was writhing on the floor mashing his hands to his face. Bronco Bill was coherent though, and I blew a hole out the back of his chest with a lazy trigger pull. I determined that Smoky was not going to be any trouble disarmed and disoriented, so I performed a sweep of the other rooms and executed the members of Smoky Joe’s gang that were still alive. Once the deeds were done, I confronted the recovering Joe, who was trying to put a cigarette into his mouth with his remaining hand.

“Damn… just… damn” He murmured while shaking his head, out of it, “Think we bit off more than we could chew with you”

“Yeah, that usually how it plays out. I’m up against unfavorable odds, and my companions might not always be combat capable, but that doesn’t get in my way” I summarized, “Those who do, die. Didn’t anyone tell you that I was dangerous?”

“Welp! I’m yer prisoner then!” He extended his hand to me, and I eyed him with a look that stated ‘How dumb do you think I am?’.

There was a dusty shovel poking out of the wallpaper that gave me an idea with what to do about all the corpses that were lying about. I levitated it over to me, before tossing it to the defeated outlaw, who stared at it blankly.

“There are two kinds of people out here in the middle of scenic nowhere my friend” I used the term sardonically, “Those with loaded guns, and those who dig. Guess which category you belong in?”

“You can’t be serious” He balked, “You killed my entire crew!”

“Would you prefer running?” I threw out an alternative for him, “Though I wouldn’t recommend that, because I got six little friends in this cylinder, and they can all run a hell of a lot faster than you can. So get digging, out in the open where I can see you” I warned him, even though he was still tagged with True Sight and I was aware of him at all times because of this.

I rolled the unconscious Braeburn (did he pass out from the shock, maybe?) over and pushed my fingers to his neck to check for a pulse. I breathed in relief, as he was assuredly alive. The round he’d took in his arm had shattered some bones though, and it would take a medical doctor to set those right. I cut into his flesh with my Tantō to excise the rounded ball of Smoky’s pistol, before searing the wound shut with a little aid from thermal magic. I plopped into the dirt beside him and exhaled tiredly, removing the hat from my head and wiping some sweat that had accumulated on my brow.

“Don’t worry pal, we’ll save your Strongheart yet. Just don’t expect me to be the best man at the official wedding” I reassured him, glancing up at the sky to make out the shapes of clouds there.

‘If there’s a title for fastest gun in the West here… I think I’ve earned it’ I mused, listening the contact of shovel on sunbaked earth as Smoky Joe buried his gang.

⁂

“An then what happened?” Applejack inquired over the sound of laughter and clinking dining glasses. A skeletal bowl of half eaten gourmet buffalo stew pushed off to the side. I didn’t blame her, that stuff wasn’t especially tasty. The suspended paper lamps only made the gruel seem darker than it was, which only made it worse.

I stared at her in disbelief, “You know what happened! You were there with me for everything that Braeburn was not. You don’t want to hear about the mundane stuff”

“A shootout like that is anythin’ but mundane, Arch Stanton” She poked fun at my spur of the moment name. The multiple glasses of cider had done a number to her inhibitions, and yet I knew this would not be the last I heard of Arch Stanton.

The official wedding of Braeburn and Strongheart took place a couple of days after the shootout at Tumbledown Tree, nestled smack dab in the shade of that butte where Braeburn and Strongheart would forge a bond of love. We had Smoky Joe verify Strongheart’s location before sending him to the Chieftain of the Buffalo Braves as an ‘apology gift’ for losing his daughter to them. It wasn’t easy repairing the relations between settler and native, especially after the Blood Gulch massacre, but progress was being made. With the families of the natives largely restored to them, peace was as easy as setting up a meeting of the governor of Appleloosa and Chief Thunderfeet. The largest sign of the returning favorable border relations was this very wedding, which contained equal quantities of native and settler guests alike. In a way, their wedding was symbolic of this union. Strongheart was the happiest I had ever seen her up to then, in spite of the horrific things she had witnessed in the mines alongside her kin. But that was not a topic to be reminiscing about at a wedding. This was a joyous occasion, and I wouldn’t let my boredom as the gang pressed best man detract from that.

“Can’t believe ya convinced me to miss out on sumthin’ like that” She continued to grumble, “An’ wasn’t I supposed to be the one leadin’ you around these parts anyhow?”

“And you did, Applejack” I assured her, stroking her free hand with my side of my thumb, “You being by my side bolstered my resolve”

“Well aren’t you a sweet talker?” She remarked, her cheeks flush with blood, “So long as it’s you, sugarcube, ah don’ mind” She lazily twisted her head to look at the couple of the hour, who were dancing in a swaying, jumping manner that was Buffalo Brave (Braeburn’s arm brace could endure the strain), “When do ya think we should tell ‘em about the secret wedding gift?”

“Let it be a surprise” I wasn’t going to reveal that we knew about their third family member before they did, “According to Pinkie, surprises are the spice of life, aren’t they?”

She laughed merrily, “I don’t think Pinkie phrased it as coherently, but yeah, that seems about correct”

She laid her head on my shoulder, watching as her cousin basked in the festive glow of marriage, his life’s fulfillment somehow amplified with the knowledge that he would never be alone. Without even knowing why I did it, I draped an arm around Applejack and held her close to me. The music almost felt tangible as it floated through the air. Above us the stars twinkled regularly, as if they were smiling upon us.

Author's Note:

Happy two year anniversary to this story! (And its consequently Cinco de Mayo as well). Even though I still don't think too highly of my ability to tell the story I have envisioned in my head to this day, I'm proud of what it is in its own way. You would not believe how hard I've been pushing myself to get this one out by the anniversary due date (and I think it shows in the latter parts of the chapter. Hopefully a little polishing will help curb that). Don't worry if you think I skipped over some plot-lines, as I had to condense a lot to satisfy the basic gist of my outline. I'll cover those in the next slice of life one as a sort of prologue to a chapter. I wish I could have done a better job with Applejack being companion material without turning her into a jaded killer like the protagonist, but that's what I get for shoehorning a great character into a mediocre role. Damn you writer's block, damn you!

Yeah... Revenge of the Fifth is a good day for an anniversary. *Toasts with a glass of Cointreau*

(P.S, the idea for the deputies were written before Equestria's most Wanted, though the passing similarities I will confess are suspect)
Wishing you all the best.
-Zenith

Comments

[SilentMech]

So, despite his best attempts to the contrary, he was the best man for two weddings by sheer coincidence. First time being the Buffalo Braves wedding, due to him the only activel friendly and supportive male to Braeburn before they entered the tent. Universe loves hitting him with both sides of the door when he isn't busy being a remarkably lethal fighter, doesn't it? I mean, dude got coming and going. Upside, he hinted to Braeburn that he was a Trifect, if he was conscious for that brief flyover during that shoot off. After getting shot and breaking his arm. Actually, never mind, he doesn't know.

[Zenith Starwalker]

5946779 The Universe can't let a good weapon go to rust, can it? I like to poke fun at the fact that no matter where my protagonist goes, action is more than likely to follow. Is it his presence causing this? Or is he just in the right place at the wrong time?

[RuneStone]

Another good long chapter. Can't wait to see what happens next.

[Zenith Starwalker]

5947576 Tying up some loose ends and then exploring the season of Christm- I mean... Hearth's Warming Eve. Then it's off for more adventure!

[Fireeaters]

Unf. Dat chapter length.

[GoldenBoomers]

Thank you.

You're the only person to have updated their story in such a long time.

It seems life has found itself caught up with those other writers.

(Which is both a good and bad thing.)

[Zenith Starwalker]

5949383 Who is to say that it didn't in mine? I did choose my bio words very carefully after all.

[Zenith Starwalker]

5949453 Many characters have dick moments, but ten percent isn't that bad of a dick move. He's just a little tight-fisted.

[GrandSpear]

This is one of my favorite fics. Congrazzles ( throws confetti )

[Zenith Starwalker]

5950144 I'm glad you enjoy it! (Vacuums up confetti to keep area clean)

[Toobert]

“Doctor Holiday" You. Did. Not.

Anyway, i suppose I should explain my seeming inaction with the proofreading. I've decided that, since it is such a large undertaking, that I will do the whole thing in one fell swoop. All chapters will be delivered in one go, but it will take lots of time. So, expect all of the current ones, including this one, to be finished by year's end.

[Zenith Starwalker]

5959001 Thanks, appreciate it. And yes... I dare to be cliche.

[Toobert]

"All was quiet on the western front" Very clever reference mister Starwalker, very clever indeed.

[AficionadoAvacado]

Has it been that long already? Wow. As always, my friend, excellent job. I see what you mean with the whole "bit of a rush" business, but none the less, you proved to be a most exquisite author. Personally, I cannot wait till the next chapter. Thank you for two years of awesome story telling, bud.

[Zenith Starwalker]

5993594 Always a pleasure.

[Zenith Starwalker]

5993668 The protagonist's reasons for being jaded are his own, and he has his own Cross to carry. Furthermore, due to the stubbornness of his character, he'll never entirely own up to why he is this way. Though I will make it explicitly clear right now that his inner deadness is in part due to struggling with a sense of meaninglessness that is only now being rectified with his newfound purpose for being in this world. In actuality, you're right for disliking his self perceived shortcomings, as he comes from a background that most people would actually be envious of. But to him, that existential void existing inside of him is just as soul-sucking as legitimate tragedies affecting others, so when Twilight foolishly absorbed all of that at once just to get a better understanding of him, it had an adverse negative effect upon her health, as well as nearly permanently tainting their nascent relationship.

[Death Pony]

I was forced to play Ennio Morricone for this whole chapter.

[Zenith Starwalker]

6000053 I'll include his best track for the next chapter when I cover what I glazed over after the Tumbledown showdown.

[timelord2511]

6000070 This is without a doubt the most captivating story I've ever read. I love it!!

[Zenith Starwalker]

6079548 I'm glad you think so. Finals week delayed me a bit on the next chapter, but it should be out before too long.

[timelord2511]

6079564 yus!

[Arjik]

Well, I went to chapter 26 and, sorry, but this would be the first fic on this site that I actually downvoted. I will try to make my jumbled mess of thoughts clear(er) on why, for those who didn't get that far into the story: SPOILERS. Also, this is my own thoughts and feelings on this fic, so while I try to be objective, there would be a lot of personal pet peeves.

1) The whole "I'm not a Mary Sue." thing, that the protagonist goes to ponder in the first few chapters. Yep, then he wasn't, but after the first story arc he slowly, but steadily became just that - a Mary Sue. Why? Well, let's get the checklist: Chosen One? Check. Awesome powers that others don't have? Check. Stealing spotlight from other heroes (I'm really pissed about stealing Spike's spotlight mostly, but there were other smaller instances)? Yep. Very popular with others without good justification? Somewhat, I will explain that below. Fate-guided to save the world? Again, yes. I have nothing about Mary Sues, but only when it's written very well and introduces some challenges to the Sue in question. I feel that challenges were not sufficient in this fic to view the main character as actually challenged after the first story arc. The most blatant examples of that are lifting the curse of an ancient being that is practically a part or facet of the Creator in just a few minutes (Background Pony reference) and, again, stealing the spotlight from Spike later in the story.

2) Personal relationships. This one started very well written, but went downhill quite fast. Ship with Daring? Yeah, that I can honestly tell was written very great and believeable. Ship with Ocatavia? Yes, with a bit of a stretch I can believe in that too. Ship with Background Pony Lyra? Yeah, that I can see too, if only it was a little longer than "saved the pony, now she's in love with me". Others? Not so much. While Flutters does have at least some sort of justification, but it is too flimsy for my tastes. If there is justification for that, then it was left out or became lost in giant paragraphs. Ships with Rarity and Rainbow? That came out of the blue for me. There is too little for the characters to work with and it feels like they were roped into relations. I can understand Rarity's interest in the character if it would appear after the whole "I'm a trifect" thing, making allusions to the show and how Rarity had her dreams of her Noble Knight shattered, but not before that. Personally, the story would be that much enjoyable and interesting if the protagonist tried to reconcyle Rarity and Blueblood, that would've been great story arc and address the main theme of this story.

3) Pacing. First chapters started with great pacing. I barely skipped anything and was enjoying how the whole thing was written, because it was easy and comfortable to read. My own experience is that chapters shouldn't be longer than about 20k words, after that it becomes increasingly harder to keep up with the flow and not many writers on this site could make such chapters easy to read. I'm sorry, but for me you are not very good at pacing huge chapters. The style also went in deifferent direction, with bigger paragraphs (walls of text are harder to read even if it is split into several smaller walls of text) and lack of internal thoughts of the protagonist, which IMHO was bad for the story and its appeal.

4) Vocabulary. I admit, English is my second language, first one being Russian. I didn't have any problems reading as it is, but sometimes I wondered wuite a bit about the style choice. I can see princesses, the protagonist and a few other characters speaking with Sesquipedalian Loquaciousness (I couldn't stop myself, this trope was just too close to pass up), but a few times some characters slipped into this, which just left me with a feeling that it was a mistake, like the author started writing as one character, then as another but didn't see that and written the whole dialog with only one characte's style.

5) Consequences. By this I mean some of the shown abilities. Main perpetrator here is the spell that allows the protagonist to copy and learn skills very fast, particulary with the sword. Maybe I didn't understand its application very well, but if I did that spell alone means that Arcania does not need any army whatsoever. To clarify I will start from afar. I am an avid D&D player (3.5 redaction) and what I learned from playing it, is that if something can be used then it could be abused. For example, there is a spell that allows mages to craft various goods from raw materials. Sounds nice, right? Yeah, until you realize that you can basically take a wagon of scrap metal that would cost you a small fortune and then make some high-quality pricey weapons and armor and get rich in just a few weeks, if not days. Back to the issue here. If the spell like that of the protagonist exists, then what is stopping the princesses to just enchant every piece of royal armory with it and basically put the skills of various weapon masters into them? You then can take any conscript, put him into armor, give him a weapon and WHAM you got yourself a master swordsman, who just yesterday was a farmer. This is practically a gaping hole in the story, because some abilities were introduced without much thought behind them.

The final nail that made me drop this story was the change to the ending of Equestria Games. Why did you have to change it so that main protagonist gets all the job done when just prior to that you have written it much better, with main hero pushing Spike to be a hero on his own? Why not do that again? It would've been much more satisfying and, again, playing into the theme of this fic. Yes, this is biased, can't not be. I just feel like you robbed Spike of his hero moment and that was completely unjust. On the other note, I feel that this story would've been much better if you just let your character to stay as a pegasus analogy that the protagonist thought he was at the beginning (I forgot the word, sorry), it would've made the story happening more challenging and engaging.

All in all, this is nicely written fic, but it has problems with pacing later on, characters slipping OOC, too much shipping and Mary Sueness. It started as a very interesting fic, but left me dissapointed, which is why I downvoted it.

[Zemez]

(A pitch black to the point where it seems to suck in light crystal plays a recorded message in front of you)
Hey zenith! I can't remember if I commented on this story in fanfiction but I just saw you had it on here! And arjik is right about one thing. The spike incident. Although when I think about it I can't find any way to show he's a trifect in the chapter except if it took place during the battles or spikes flame wasnt strong enough or he still couldn't bring bring forth his flames and zenith had to help him. But those sound ridiculous to me.

But anyways good job,
zemez earthmender/voidwalker signing out

(The crystal used to record the message clears and no amount of magic can get it to open up again. It seems like a regular crystal now, although still able to hold large amounts of magic)

[Zenith Starwalker]

6080634 Thank you for your valid points concerning this story, and I'm very sorry for disappointing you in regards to those points. I'll never compare myself with the other great writers on this site, but I have my own vision regarding this story, and therefore must write according to that vision. If it results in a less than stellar narrative that cannot please everyone, so be it, but I must push on regardless.

[Arjik]

6081479 That is something to admire, right there. Push forward and become better, good luck on your path.

[LostFaith]

How many words you at in next chapter?

[Zenith Starwalker]

6090237 Only 20K at the moment. Been caught up in things, but I'll have time to devote to it over the next few days.

[LostFaith]

6090327 Oh, okay. Good luck then.

[Zenith Starwalker]

6122567 Realism isn't always a top priority when writing in a fantasy style universe, but I appreciate the sentiment.