Chapter 19: Surprise Meetings
Onto the Pony Planet
Chapter 19: Surprise Meetings
Admiral Biscuit
Dale breathed a sigh of relief when Cheerilee finally put away the lesson materials. He knew that they'd gotten more accomplished in a few hours than he and Lyra had in their time on the beach, but Cheerilee wasn't nearly as fun an instructor.
Just the same, he thanked her for her instruction as best he could, mentally kicking himself when he saw the small frown on her face that indicated he'd mispronounced a word. Well, at least I got her name right.
He followed her out into the main room, nearly tripping over her backside when she went straight instead of turning for the front door. Dale paused to collect his thoughts, and get a look at how far the construction ponies had progressed.
For the small team they'd had, they'd done a good day's work. The banister was in place, complete as far as he could tell. The windows were trimmed out, and he heard running water from the bathroom, which meant that the plumber pony had finished her tasks, at least downstairs. Two of the house's biggest drawbacks remedied in a day—and even if the upstairs bathroom wasn't done yet, it would only be a matter of time. They had all the fixtures in there, after all.
He looked down as a nose bumped his arm. The construction pony from the hospital was standing next to him, and when she saw she had his attention, she pointed to the banister.
“Thank you,” Dale said.
She stepped back in surprise, before giving him a broad smile. “You're welcome.” She pointed a hoof at the dining room, and gave him a rapid burst of Equish, which was completely incomprehensible. Not waiting for an answer, she headed into the dining room, and Dale followed her.
The table was already crowded with ponies, from the foreman who had been looking at drawings in the morning, to the plumber. Cheerilee was sitting next to the stallion who had been helping with the banister; the carpenter took the vacant seat between him and the head of the table.
Their conversations trailed off as Dale took his place, and he wondered if he wasn't making a mistake—maybe he was supposed to eat in the office. He thought about how nervous Diamond Mint had gotten when he'd had his pork chop for breakfast. She was one of his servants; she must have been told before. How would complete strangers react? He couldn’t help but feel the dinner was about to be a magnificent disaster of misunderstandings.
On the other hand, they'd shared pie with him for lunch, and none of them had thought that strange, and he had been directed into the dining room. In the hospital, too—he'd eaten meals with the doctor and nurses and a child. It vaguely reminded him of a Victorian dinner, although he couldn't say why.
To his relief, Cheerilee took charge. She looked over the table, said a brief phrase, and then clearly and slowly said “I’m Cheerilee.”
From the confused look on their faces, Dale guessed that they all already knew what Cheerilee’s name was. The plumber caught on the quickest. “Silver Spanner,” she said.
Dale repeated her name cautiously—the last thing he wanted to do was screw their names up so badly that they wouldn’t come back and work on the house again, but he needn’t have worried. They chuckled as he mispronounced Ambrosia’s name, but she patiently corrected him, before letting the stallion next to her speak.
By the time they’d gotten done introducing themselves, the mood at the table had lightened considerably. Dale was still nervous, but it helped to know their names—it wasn’t a meal with strangers any more; now it was a meal with acquaintances. And, upon reflection, he was in more familiar company than he’d been during the stuffy meeting the night before. Aside from Cheerilee, they were all working ponies, who got their hooves dirty actually doing things.
While he was thinking, Diamond Mint started bringing trays out from the kitchen. Not surprisingly, she began by putting two large bowls of salad on either end of the table, with a smaller bowl of some sort of hay next to them.
I really should have read Emily Post, Dale thought, nervously looking up and down the table. He was probably the guest of honor—but did that mean he was supposed to eat first, or last? Should he serve himself, or wait for Diamond Mint to do it? And which utensil should he use? Did they arrange them from outside in, or was there some other pattern? What about Lyra? They probably weren't expecting her to show up if dinner had already been served.
Cheerilee leaned forward, and looked at Dale. “Go ahead,” she told him.
Dale nodded, and reached for the salad bowl, scooping a respectable pile on his plate. He considered the hay, but decided not to risk it. He'd occasionally chewed on a sprig of grass when he was out camping, but it wasn't the kind of thing he wanted on his salad.
Out of habit, he passed the bowl to his left, setting it in front of Ambrosia. In a flash, Diamond Mint was behind the carpenter, helpfully lifting out some salad with her aura, and following it with some hay. He watched as she continued down the line that way—helping the normal ponies, but letting the unicorns do it themselves.
Is there a caste structure here? Is she serving the normal ponies because she's superior, or inferior? Or is it just a case of being helpful to them? Does every one of them have a horned helper at home, either a servant or a family member, or do they have a different protocol when they're on their own? The doctor didn't help the nurses—was it because it was a less-formal meal, or because he outranked them?
He was still trying to sort out their mealtime etiquette when he heard the clatter of silverware and looked up to see Cheerilee giving Rough Tumble a dirty look. Dale realized that everyone had been served, and was waiting on him to begin, so he picked up the outermost fork and speared a pile of salad, managing to get it to his mouth without dropping any, which was fortunate, since all the ponies were watching him intently.
I hope I didn't just do something else wrong. He glanced down at his plate—he hadn't paid any attention to what was in the salad. There were several kinds of leaf—he vaguely recognized some of them, but he couldn't name them—as well as carrots, raisins, beets, and walnuts. Well, that explains why it's so sweet. Dale looked back up—none of the ponies were looking at him in horror; they'd all bent to their own plates, and were busily eating and not paying him any attention at all, which was a relief.
Unexpectedly, once the salad course was gone, Diamond Mint didn't take away the plates. She brought a tray of sandwiches—about the last thing Dale had expected for a semi-formal dinner. Or do they consider sandwiches formal? He'd have to write this down in one of his notebooks. Maybe with enough observation, he could make sense of it.
As usual, none of the other ponies touched their sandwiches until he'd taken a bite of his. Just like the ones Lyra had had on the beach, his had flowers on it. Dale chewed slowly, letting the other ponies enjoy their own food, while he considered whether it would be insulting to take the flowers off his sandwich, or just eat it the way it was.
He was interrupted by Diamond Mint bringing around drinks. Each of them already had a mug of water at their place, just like in a restaurant, along with a second empty glass. She held the tray in front of him so he could see what she had to offer. Luckily, she'd also been kind enough to place a small card under each bottle which had a picture of the contents, but the labels weren't quite specific enough for him to be certain. An apple was probably apple juice; an apple and a barrel was less certain.
Barrels are used to keep things. He had a memory of watching a documentary about the Jack Daniel’s distillery—they aged it in oak barrels or something. When he examined a card with a hop and barrel, it clinched the deal. A barrel means it’s aged—and therefore alcohol. No barrel, and it’s juice.
The last thing he wanted to do was get drunk in front of a bunch of strangers at a formal dinner, so he selected the apple juice as the safest option, before turning his attention back to his dinner partners. He still hadn't solved the sandwich dilemma.
Fortunately, Rough Tumble had removed the tomatoes from his sandwich and left them neatly on his plate, and Silver Spanner didn’t like the cheese, which was all the excuse Dale needed to pick out the flower petals. Diamond didn't give the stallion a dirty look when she poured him a drink, so it was probably okay to be a picky eater. Hopefully, the cook wouldn't be mad at him.
The tray got passed around a second time, and Dale took another sandwich, once again peeling off all the flowers. Diamond kept up her patrol of the table with the drinks, refilling cups as they emptied. Conversations began to erupt around the table, which had the unfortunate effect of making Dale feel more like an outsider again: he hardly understood a word which was spoken. Cheerilee tried several times to get a conversation going with him—more out of a sense of politeness than any real belief that they could have a meaningful discussion, he was sure.
A fruit course came next, and Dale took one of everything to try. The fruits were all nearly identical to their Earthly counterparts, although slightly larger, and much more flavorful. Unfortunately, there was only just enough to go around—he would have liked to have had more. I'll have to tell Diamond Mint or Starlight to stock up on fruit, he thought. It's really good.
Diamond Mint ended the meal by bringing out a pot of tea and a tray of cookies. Dale had never been much of a tea-drinker, so he only took small sips of his. It was very bitter, although the cookies helped to get the taste out of his mouth.
The construction ponies were the first to leave. Both Rough Tumble and Silver Spanner gave him hoof-bumps on the way out; Ambrosia went one step further and brushed her nose across his cheek, much to his confusion. Dale smiled as each one of them leaned into the kitchen and spoke to Starlight before filing out of the dining room, leaving him alone with Cheerilee.
She seemed in no particular hurry to finish her tea, and Dale was starting to wonder just how rude it would be to get up and leave—but she settled the matter when she put down her cup and got out of her seat. She actually went all the way into the kitchen, and spoke with the cook for almost a minute before she came back out, gave Diamond Mint a friendly nuzzle, and then departed, leaving him alone with the servants.
Diamond began clearing the table, and Dale helped her, ignoring the sharp look she gave him. He was going to be with them for a while, and he might as well start working out a fair division of labor. Paid or not, he couldn't just sit idly by while they did all the work—it just wasn't in his nature.
Once all the dishes had been taken to the kitchen, he made a brief stop in the bathroom, before returning to the office and taking notes on the night's meal.
“I'm so glad we're finally done in this miserable town,” Perry griped as he folded a shirt and tucked it neatly into his suitcase. “I can't imagine the mountain of correspondence I'll have to catch up on when I get back to the university.”
“I just leave mine to my secretary.” Featherbrain had a more direct approach to packing—she grabbed hooffulls of her belongings and shoved them in her bag in a gigantic wrinkled mess. He winced as she slammed her hooves down on the flap of her suitcase, trying to get the bulging luggage to shut properly.
Why did she pack so much stuff when she never wore any clothes the whole time we were here? She'd worn her mismatched socks to bed, but that was it. The books accounted for some of the bulk, and of course she had her grooming supplies, but the fabric contents of her suitcase were a total mystery to him. Had he been more curious, he would have gone through it while she was out, but he wasn't sure he really wanted to know what she'd packed.
“She's probably going to have quite a lot for you to deal with when you get back,” Perry said conversationally as he glanced around the room one last time to make sure he'd not forgotten anything.
“Probably.” Featherbrain finally succeeded in yanking the straps on her suitcase tight. “That'll remain a mystery for another day—I'm not going back to Canterlot with you.”
“You—wait, you're not going back?”
She shook her head. “I still haven't gotten a chance to examine them fully. Now that Dale's at the embassy, I'll have the perfect chance to observe how he behaves in a natural setting. I should have thought of that sooner, but I got so excited when I first saw them in the hospital.”
Perry narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean by 'observe him in a natural setting?'”
Featherbrain had the grace to blush slightly. “Well, you know, at the embassy—he's got to come out sometime, and I can watch and see what he does.”
“He'll have Guards with him all the time, I'm sure.”
“Not in the backyard,” she said cheerfully.
“And you've rented a room that looks over the backyard, haven't you?” Perry groaned. “I don't imagine you've told the dean yet.”
“I've got tenure.” Featherbrain shrugged. “As long as I'm back when the fall term starts, it's none of her business what I do. She didn't complain when I went to Siput to study the native slugs; this is no different. Besides, Lecol's gonna be here a while longer, too, helping the girl. She'll be happy that I got us a room so close.”
“I'm sure,” Perry said sarcastically, wincing at the thought of those two sharing a room. “Whatever, have fun. I'm going to take my bags to the train station, then go visit my brother while I'm in town. Haven't seen him since he came to Canterlot for Hearth's Warming last year.”
“Toodeloo!” Featherbrain grabbed her suitcase in her teeth and dragged it up to the window, before grabbing the ledge with her forehooves. “I'll see you in the fall,” she muttered around her baggage.
Perry watched her go before a broad smile crossed his face. Not having her at the university would be a relaxing change of pace, and it would make the train ride much more enjoyable. He and Ivory Star could have a nice, educated conversation on the way back.
He eagerly trotted to the train station and dropped off his luggage with the baggage attendant before making his way back into town. Even the wet ground didn't dampen his spirits—the sun was shining, and in a few hours he'd be back on the evening train to Canterlot.
He turned down a side street and paused in thought. None of these houses look familiar. Hmm. I thought he lived just down the road from the bakery. Or was that the farrier's house? Perry chuckled to himself. Funny how a small town could change in the span of years—to the ponies who lived there, the changes were so gradual, they hardly noticed. Well, there's no shame in asking for directions. Halfway up the street, a grey pegasus wearing the blue coat and hat of the Equestrian Post was dutifully delivering bundles of mail from house to house—surely she'll know where Pokey lives.
He trotted up the street, intercepting her as she walked down the street with her muzzle tucked into her bag, in preparation of pulling forth another string-wrapped bundle of letters. “Excuse me, miss, could you tell me—“
Her ears turned in his direction as he spoke, and she came up with a mouthful of mail, turning her head in his direction curiously. His blood turned to ice when her golden eyes locked on his. She unceremoniously—and expertly, the analytical part of his brain told him—flipped the letters out of her mouth, sending them sailing neatly to the front step of the next house on her route. “You.”
Her voice could have crumbled granite. Perry's tail clamped between his legs, and he took one hesitant step back before a blinding left hook knocked him on his rump. Before he could move, she was on top of him, rolling him onto his back.
She straddled him, dragging a hind hoof roughly down the inside of his thigh. “Don't even think of moving,” she hissed.
He meekly nodded, his every thought consumed with how easily she could geld him by striking down with that hoof. His horn was jammed painfully in the mud, and his head was still ringing from her blow. “We were young,” he said. “You don't have to be like this.”
“If you ever come near my daughter again, so help me, I will rip your throat out.” She slid her hind hoof lower, her shoe grating painfully against his skin. “She’s mine—you gave up any claim when you left.”
Perry thought about protesting—that wasn't why he'd come here at all, and he honestly had no interest in her foal, but he was terrified that if he spoke at all, she’d hurt him. At this point, he had little interest beyond escaping this confrontation unmaimed.
“Equestria is a big place,” she said, increasing the pressure on him. “And there's no reason we ever have to see each other again, do you understand?”
He nodded his head eagerly. Yes, he understood clearly. Yes, it would be a cold day in Tartarus before he set hoof in Ponyville again.
“Good.” She looked down at him curiously, before lifting her hind hoof. He let out a sigh of relief before a searing pain tore down his flank. “That's for leaving me,” she said coldly as he gasped for breath, fighting back a scream. His left hind leg twitched painfully, and he curled it inwards as she got off him and looked up and down the street. She took a step to the side, and he cowered in fear of the next strike. He closed his eyes as her muzzle darted in towards his face, and buried himself in his forehooves to protect himself.
It did no good; she was stronger than him. She slid a hoof under his chin and pried his head up. She leaned down and kissed him tenderly on the snout. “That's for giving me the most wonderful daughter in all of Equestria.”
He lay there unmoving as she grabbed her hat off the street, flipped it on top of her head with practiced ease, and continued her route as if nothing had happened. When she was four houses away, he struggled back to his hooves and wiped the tears off his cheeks, wincing as his mud-coated forelocks ground against his face. His clothes were ruined and he could feel blood trickling down his leg, but his only thought was for escape as he began trotting clumsily down the street away from her.
“I was very confident in our case,” Fancy Pants told the reporter from the Canterlot Times. “Noble Voice did nothing but shout baseless allegations throughout the whole trial.”
“But you didn't address those,” the stallion protested. “How do we know the creature isn't dangerous? He put Lyra in the hospital.”
“Dale was more seriously injured in the accident than Ambassador Heartstrings,” Fancy Pants said, and turned towards another upraised hoof. “Yes?”
“Do you see this case as a sign of the developing schism between our nations?”
Fancy Pants furrowed his brow. “In what way?”
“Three injured parties on a diplomatic mission? You don't see a problem with that?”
“Of course it's a problem, and it's one the Crown has every intention of getting to the bottom of.” You just sat through a trial on that very issue, Fancy Pants thought, but he didn't change his pleasant expression.
“There could be sanctions—new laws preventing an ambassador from causing injuries—is the Nobles' Council looking into that?”
“We are exploring all relevant avenues,” Fancy Pants assured him. It wasn't much of an answer, but the question was idiotic. “Excuse me, please. I promised this wonderful mare I'd give her an exclusive interview.”
He ignored the mutters of outrage as the reporters realized they weren't going to get anything else out of him, and moved on to a new target for questioning. Unfortunately for them, Noble Voice and his assistant were still inside the courtroom, so they instead cornered Professor Laureate, who was completely baffled by the sudden surge of attention.
“I've never covered anything this . . . important,” Apple Honey said.
“You'll do fine.” The pair walked down the street in silence, until Apple Honey reached her shop. She pushed open the door and went inside, followed by Fancy Pants. He waited as she shoved a pile of broken farm tools off to the side on her desk, got out a fresh notebook and a pencil, and nodded to him.
“Let me begin by saying it was an honor to defend Ambassador Heartstrings.” He paused to let her write that down, before continuing. “She has done a fine job so far, dealing with a very difficult and stressful situation.
“Certain ponies don't think so, though. At a meeting of the Nobles' Council, shortly before the trial, some ponies voted to reject her as ambassador and replace her, and there was even consideration of moving the embassy to Canterlot or Manehattan. They didn't think that your town was suitable for an embassy, nor that one of your residents would make a proper representative.
“I, of course, was against such a proposal.” Fancy Pants moved slightly closer to her desk, and looked her right in the eye. “Most of the nobles don't ever even leave their estates, except to attend important functions—here's a town of ponies who know how to get things done, and where better to have an embassy?”
Apple Honey set her pencil down. “How come Noble Voice said so many mean things about Lyra? She's a little eccentric, but she's not a bad pony.”
“Ah.” He rubbed his hoof on his chin. “Because he didn't have a case, and he hoped that if he made enough scandalous claims, ponies would start to believe them, even though they're not true. In fact, we're fairly certain what actually happened.”
He let that thought hang in the air between them, waiting for Apple Honey to pounce on it. The truth was that he wasn't quite sure—communicating with Dale had been a tricky proposition, and his theory was as much guess as actual evidence, but his gut was telling him he was on the right track; if he wasn't completely correct, he was close.
Besides, it would be great for a badly-written small-town newspaper to get the scoop on all the big papers with their leagues of professional reporters, and it served them right for not asking the right questions.
“Tell me.” She bent back down to her notebook.
“Some of this is purely educated guess,” Fancy Pants said, “and there are a few parts we haven't fully determined yet, but I know the gist of the story. On Ambassador Heartstrings' second solo visit, Dale took her back to his home. He trusted her that much. They spent the afternoon there, even sharing a meal, before it was time for Lyra to return.
“As they came back to the beach, they were confronted by a pair of rogue stallions. It’s not clear what they were doing, but Dale acted to protect Lyra. He distracted them, to give her a head start, and followed her down the beach to protect her.
“In the confusion, Ka-th-rin accidentally triggered a wand of some sort, which briefly disabled Lyra, while Dale acted to protect her. Unfortunately, the two spells interacted badly, and as a result, the three of them were flung back to Equestria, all seriously injured.” He licked his lips. “We know, from the physical evidence, that the mare—Ka-th-rin—was holding the wand in her right hand, which resulted in severe injury; unfortunately, we have been unable to analyze it fully, as it was nearly completely destroyed in the backlash.”
“So the mare is violent?”
“No, no. It was a complete misunderstanding.” He leaned on the counter. “She’s on a lot of medications, and they’re the cause of some of her behavior.” Fancy Pants licked his lips nervously, hoping Apple Honey wouldn’t pick up on the fact she’d initially attacked Dale and Lyra before she was on morphine.
“I—it didn’t get mentioned at the trial, but I should say that the doctor and nurses and your Zebra herbalist have done an exemplary job treating both Dale and Ka-th-rin.”
“I thought that was why all those unicorns from Canterlot came,” she said.
“But they came later,” he reminded her. “If it hadn’t been for the brilliant work of the hospital staff, she would have died before they arrived.”
“That’s true,” she said proudly, looking back at her notes. “How do you spell exemplary?”
Luna idly flipped through a book of case law in the judge's chambers. Sadly, she could find no precedent for what she really wanted to do to Noble Voice, and she suspected that he knew just how far the law could reach. Sometimes it was disappointing how much the law had been gelded while she'd been absent.
At the same time, she wasn't going to let him have his victory here, no matter how minor it might be. She slammed the book shut. Allowing all those reporters into what should have been a sober proceeding was a mistake. We should have banned them, and made a statement afterward about our verdict.
She stormed across the room and threw the door open. “Bring forth Noble Voice, that we may pass judgment upon him.”
She retreated back to her desk, waiting for her thestral to lead him in. She'd barely gotten seated in the chair before he was led into the room by her Night Guard. Luna gave him a curt nod, and waited until he had closed the door before directing her glare upon the stallion.
“Thou didst make a mockery of our court,” she quietly began. “And we are most displeased. Regrettably, thine actions skirted the very edge of what is permissible, as we are sure thou dost know.
“We are fortunate that the law giveth us broad latitude to punish such transgressions. We regret that we can only fine thee a token amount for thy disruptions, and we further regret that such fines appear not to have been changed in many a year; however, we do take pleasure in ordering that thou dost pay a twelve-bit fine.
“We also, as the law permits, order thee to be confined to a cell for a half-day, where we hope that thou wilt consider thy transgressions.”
“I'm very sorry,” Noble Voice said smoothly. “I only presented what I believed to be pertinent evidence in the case.”
“We are sure thou believest that.” Luna leaned forward. “We also, as is in our power, command that after thou hast completed thine prison sentence, that thou must henceforth follow a nurse for one full day, that thou mayst fill the gaps in thine education regarding a mare's reproductive biology. We feel that thine education in that field has been incomplete.
“Finally, we place upon thee a gag order for a fortnight, as is in our power. Thou shalt not discuss with anypony the case, nor the punishment which we have levied upon thee until the duration of those days has passed. Failure to comply with the gag order shall be regarded as treason, as a foreign embassy is involved in the case.” The look of horror on his face brought a small smile to Luna's face. “We have rendered our judgment; present thyself to our bailiff who shall remain at thy side until thou hast completed thy sentence. Bailiff!”
Princess Luna kept a stern face until Noble Voice was removed from the judge's chambers, before permitting herself a smile. She'd skirted the very edge of what was legal herself—but the gag order couldn't be overturned before it expired, and if he was wise, he would just suffer in silence, rather than risk her wrath by defying her. Were he naive enough to defy her? Well, at that point she had a few more options that would make his life miserable.
I could send him a month's worth of terrible nightmares, she thought. Weave his dreams in a terrifying manner. But she would not; such a thing only built distrust in the long run, as satisfying as it would be in the short.
She wrote her judgment down on a scroll, being sure to cite case law. A legal secretary would file it in the morning, and send a duplicate on to Canterlot.
Luna covered a yawn, and got out of her chair. She didn't feel like flying back to Canterlot tonight. She could go to the library and spend the night with Twilight Sparkle—but first, she wanted to go to the embassy and meet Dale face-to-face. Now that the trial was over and the paperwork had been completed, there was no conflict of interest to worry about any more.
Luna smiled as she reached the Ponyville streets, her second Night Guard trailing respectfully behind. How many fine memories the town held—it almost made her feel like dancing in the street, but that wouldn't be decorous at all. It might give ponies the wrong impression of her.
Her smile faltered as she was assaulted by journalists.
“Princess Luna, do you have any comment about your verdict?”
“Princess Luna, can you tell us what actions you have taken in regard to Noble Voice's conduct during the trial?”
“Are you heading back to Canterlot tonight?”
“Are you visiting ponies while you're here? Who?”
She held up a hoof. The reporters fell silent.
“Our verdict speaks for itself,” she began. “Noble Voice has been given a fitting punishment. We shall head back to Canterlot on the morrow. We shall spend the night at Twilight Sparkle's home, after we have visited the new embassy.”
Without waiting for them to finish writing—and thus come up with further questions to ask—she jumped into the air and took flight, teleporting across town once she was level with the rooftops. It was a total waste of energy, but it would keep the press corps from following her. Perhaps now that she was gone, they could entertain themselves by interviewing the flowers in the planters outside the courtroom, in the hopes of getting an exclusive viewpoint on the trial.
She glided down the street fronting the embassy, lightly landing behind what appeared to be an odd parade. A group of Royal Guards were towing a wagon, which was being followed by dozens of townsponies. Curious, she fell in line with them, her stature allowing her to easily see over the crowd.
Luna did not have to follow the procession for very long; the wagon stopped in front of the embassy, and a white pony climbed out of the back, then began coaxing the other occupant out.
The crowd made appreciative noises as a bipedal creature dressed in a too-short hospital johnny struggled out of the wagon. Two of the stallions who'd been pulling the wagon hastily flanked her, and she leaned down to rub one on the chin.
The white mare who'd been her traveling companion moved in front of her and backed towards the embassy door. It was only when she'd been successfully moved inside that the crowd finally relaxed, and began to talk amongst themselves. Luna took that as her cue to move on; rather than wait until they discovered she was behind them, she headed down a side street, intending to circle the block. It would give the crowd a bit of time to become distracted, and would avoid her having to force her way through them. Sometimes she was upset that the ponies didn't react as favorably to her as her sister; other times it was a blessing—Celestia could hardly walk a block without being accosted by ponies on the street.
Nevertheless, her arrival did not go unnoticed; she saw pointing hooves and dozens of ponies bowing uncertainly as she made her way to the embassy door.
The guards respectfully held it open for her, and Princess Luna set hoof in the newest embassy in Equestria.
Dusk Glimmer watched Trixie warily. After their struggle on the balcony, the unicorn had tried to make several more breaks for the edge, and she'd finally just pinned Trixie until the showmare tired out. She might have been stronger at magic, but a quick hoof-swipe took care of that, and Dusk had far more physical endurance than the half-starved Trixie.
She hadn't been surprised when the unicorn broke down completely, pinned under her and sobbing her heart out. Dusk had relaxed then, and slid off Trixie's belly, wincing slightly at the fresh bruises on her barrel from Trixie’s kicks. She'd wrapped the showmare in a tight hug, gently nuzzling her neck and cheek.
Dusk stayed silent until Trixie's tears had tapered off. Wordlessly, she levitated over a neatly-folded cloth and let the showmare wipe her face with it. Dusk winced as she blew her nose in the fabric, but there were more important things in life than a little piece of cloth, after all. Even if it had, until recently, been serving as a spare pillowcase.
“Would you like tea and a blanket?”
Trixie nodded, her eyes still squinted closed. The fur on her cheeks was still matted down, and Dusk had to resist the maternal urge to pat them dry.
She turned back towards the doorway, giving a small nod to the thestral stationed there. He'd shown up after their first scuffle, but had had the good sense to do nothing. Still, his presence had been infinitely reassuring; had Trixie actually made it off the edge of the balcony, he undoubtedly would have followed her and caught her before she hit the ground.
He stepped respectfully back as she passed him, his amber eyes watching the chamber alertly.
Dusk gave the order for tea and cakes to Luna's pantler, grabbed a warm comforter from Luna's bedroom, and hurried back to the office. She didn't want to leave Trixie alone for too long, even if the thestral was watching her. The Night Guard was remarkably competent, but they weren't known for being very comforting. The last thing she wanted was to get back, find out Trixie had freaked out again, and had a pile of thestrals on top of her.
Nothing had changed when she got back to the room. Trixie was still lying on the floor, looking listlessly out the balcony doors.
“Come on,” Dusk said quietly. “Let's go sit on the couch, shall we? It's more comfortable than the floor.”
The showmare nodded and struggled to her hooves. Dusk stayed between her and the balcony doors, directing her towards the couch. She waited until Trixie had found a comfortable position before draping the down comforter over her back.
She sat next to her, watching the unicorn carefully. The two sat in silence until the pantler brought in a tray, and set it wordlessly in front of them. Dusk mouthed a few more orders—technically, she was overstepping her bounds, but all of Luna's servants had a good working relationship, and she'd get what she needed. Later, she'd repay the favor . . . but that was a problem for later, and this was now.
Dusk poured a cup for Trixie, holding it just in front of the showmare. She tensed slightly as their fields mingled, but kept her grasp on the cup until she was sure it was fully held. Despite her tiredness, Trixie brought the cup to her lips without it wavering at all.
She sipped it slowly, her eyes slowly coming back to life. It wasn't much, but Dusk felt a weight leave her chest as Trixie levitated a jam cookie off the tea tray.
Her own stomach grumbled at her as he stress began bleeding off. She had the shakes, that was for sure—her mind kept replaying the image of Trixie leaping off the balcony, and her powerless to stop it. Only now could she consider what Princess Luna might have said when she found out. She was going to wind up collecting a debt from the bottler tonight, and maybe even owing him one. What a strange day, she thought, watching as Trixie took a second cookie.
Dusk nodded politely as the pantler set a second serving tray down in front of her, this one simply carrying a collection of combs. She levitated one free, and without asking permission, began working on Trixie's mane.
The showmare jerked, and rolled her eyes upward to look at the brush, but kept on eating her cookie, washing it down with another sip of tea.
“Trixie doesn't need her mane groomed.” She bumped her hoof against the brush.
“Eat your cookies,” Dusk ordered. “And drink your tea before it gets cold.”
“Trixie doesn't want tea and cookies.” She slammed her field against the tray, flipping it over. Dusk didn't bother trying to catch it; she gave a short head-shake to the thestral and went back to brushing Trixie's mane, ignoring the mess on the floor. “Trixie doesn't deserve tea and cookies. She's a bad pony. You shouldn't serve her.”
“I serve one worse than you.” Dusk grimaced as Trixie jerked under her brush—she hadn't meant to say that out loud, and she certainly hadn't meant for it to sound like it did, but that made it no less true. She had been one of the few ponies who had been willing to serve the Lunar diarch, and she'd had to put up with Luna's mercurial moods and slow adjustments to modern society. More than once, she'd trudged to her bed at the end of the day with every intention of handing in her resignation to the seneschal the next morning . . . but she never had. She never could.
“Everypony makes mistakes,” she said. “Sometimes we get in swift current, and we can't get out—but our friends are there to help us.”
“Trixie doesn't have any friends,” the unicorn whispered, her voice bitter.
Dusk Glimmer moved the brush through her mane. “Yes, you do.”
Dale set down the quill and shook out his hand. His notes were a nearly-illegible jumble, but he was sure he'd gotten every significant dinner interaction down.
He looked back over at the pile of books—it wouldn't hurt to go through them again; he could refresh his memory on what Cheerilee had taught him—but he just didn't feel in the mood. Studying books was exhausting, and now would be a good time to relax. Unfortunately, there was no TV, so he couldn't zone out in front of the idiot box. Wherever Lyra had gone, she hadn't come back yet. He was starting to get a little bit worried about that. She'd been at the hospital when he woke up in the morning, and stayed until he went to bed—so where was she now? I hope she wasn't trying to tell me that her time with me was done. Maybe that was why she seemed upset this morning. He ran his hand over his scalp, grimacing at the feel of short stubble under his hand.
The front door opening got his hopes up, and Dale was halfway out of his seat before he decided it might be best to show some restraint, but he kept his eyes fixed on the doorway, praying to see Lyra.
Instead, he saw the pink-maned nurse, walking slowly backwards across the room, followed by Kate, who was looking at her surroundings in a dazed confusion.
For a moment, Dale had an urge to hide under his desk. He might have actually done it had he not remembered that Diamond Mint and Starlight both knew where he was, and probably would not be amused by his antics.
He shoved his chair back and walked into the room. The nurse gave him a broad smile as soon as she saw him—he could only imagine the difficulty they'd had getting Kate here. I hope she's out of danger, he thought. But of course she is. The doctor wouldn't have let her go if he was worried about her.
Still, her hand was wrapped in gauze, and while it was reassuring to know that they hadn't needed to amputate while he'd been gone, he didn't want to think what it looked like. Hopefully, the nurse being here meant he wouldn't have to deal with that—if they thought he was a capable doctor, they had another think coming.
“Hello, Kate.” He started to stick out his hand, before remembering and switching to his left.
She spun to face him, and only hesitated slightly before extending her own hand—her right.
He shook his head, and she looked down at her bandaged hand in confusion, before switching. She still had some polish on her fingernails, and he fought down a brief wave of nausea before clasping her hand in his own and giving her a quick, business-like shake. “Welcome to your new home. Shall I give you the tour?”
The nurse looked relieved when Kate nodded and began to follow Dale.
He showed her the bathroom first, and then led her across the room to the dining room. “They serve three meals a day, and we have to share with anyone who's working, okay?”
Kate nodded.
“Let me show you to your bedroom.” Dale led her up the stairs, taking the opportunity to make sure the bannister was solidly anchored. It didn't budge under his grasp at all, which was a relief.
When he reached the upstairs landing, he made a quick choice. Obviously, she couldn’t stay in his room, and he hoped Lyra would be back, so her room was out of the question, as well, even though there were no personal belongings in the room, which wasn’t a good omen. That left him with two choices, and after a very brief deliberation, he showed her to the room furthest from his..
“This bathroom isn't finished yet,” he told her. “They'll probably finish it tomorrow. But the downstairs bathroom works, or there's an outhouse, if it's occupied and you're in a hurry.”
“How long do I have to stay here?”
“I . . . don't know.” Dale pointed to her hand. “Probably until that gets better.”
She sighed and began opening the drawers to her dresser. “This place is weird.”
“Yeah.” Dale slowly edged towards the door. At least she's calm. “Uh, I'll be downstairs in the office if you need me. I've got some paperwork I have to go through, and—“
“Is there a telephone? I can't find my cell phone. I need to call the station, and tell them . . . tell them. . . .”
“They know,” Dale said reassuringly. “You don't have to worry about that.”
“Oh. That's good.” Kate sat down on her bed listlessly. “How come I feel so tired?”
“It's the medicine. But you'll be better soon, I'm sure.” He moved towards the door and stopped as a thought struck him. “Uh, is there anything that you need?”
“I don't have a toothbrush. I must have forgotten to pack it.”
“I'll see what I can do.” Dale ran his tongue over his teeth. How had he forgotten about a toothbrush? He could certainly use one, and some dental floss, too. Deodorant wouldn't be a bad idea—did they have that? He vaguely recalled one of the books having a section on common household goods; they might have some hygiene supplies. I’ll have to make a list; maybe see what Diamond Mint can get for us tomorrow.
She was still on whatever they'd been giving her, and he had a nagging feeling that the longer it lasted, the better off everyone would be. When she sobered up, she was going to be face-to-face with a whole new reality she wasn't ready for—he wasn't ready for it—and he would have to make sure that there were an ample number of ponies around her, just in case.
He was halfway down the stairs, lost in his own thoughts, when he noticed that a new pony had come into the embassy while he'd been upstairs. He stopped short, his hand clutching the balcony railing. The nurse was kneeling at her hooves, as was Diamond Mint; the Guards were giving her a sharp salute.
Standing just behind her was a grey-coated pony in bluish armor. Like some of the white Guards, he had wings, but unlike the others, his wings were leathery, like bat-wings, and the crest on his helmet matched his wings. Dale groaned—here were two more types of pony . . . just how many different kinds were there?
She turned her head in his direction, and the instant her blue eyes locked on his own, a wave of deja-vu struck him. He knew he'd seen her in one of Lyra's books; she'd been drawn next to a moon, which was nearly an exact match for the one she had on her backside, shining proudly above a field of black. But he was convinced he’d seen her somewhere else, as well.
Her mane and tail were flowing gently, just like the big white one he'd seen on the beach, and like the other, she had both wings and a horn; combined with the way the other ponies were behaving around her, she was a very important pony.
Dale moved down the rest of the stairs slowly, his mind a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. When he reached the floor, he paused momentarily, mulling over proper protocol in his mind. Finally deciding that the respectful response was the best, he gave her a deep bow, hoping against hope that he didn't screw it up.
“Good evening,” he said. “I am Dale.”
She gave a curt head-nod, but he waited until the nurse and Diamond got back to their hooves before ending his bow.
“We are Princess Luna,” she began.
“Okay, this guy is officially nuts.”
Richter nodded.
They were in his office. The room had been completely searched—as had the rest of the house—and all the promising evidence had been taken away. Over the next couple of days, evidence tech would go through his computer, sort all his papers, comb through bank account records, telephone records, and do all the things they normally did in a case like this, and those records would all point in one unambiguous direction . . . but it didn't answer the fundamental question of where Kate and Dale were.
The paper trail ended at the Leelanau State Park, which was where Dale's car and cell phone were found. Fingerprints, and probably DNA, would prove that he was on North Fox Island for a period of time . . . but that didn't help them. Unless they could find a receipt for a small submarine or a map to his secret lair, they were no further along than they had been.
“It's almost overwhelming evidence in court,” Moller said flatly. “We've got just about everything.”
“Could he have made it to Wisconsin?” Richter tapped his fingers on the desk. “One of the other islands nearby? Maybe—“
“How did he make Kate and himself disappear?” Moller leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. “It . . . his note . . . it almost hangs together.”
“No.” Richter shook his head. “Believe me, there's nothing down that road. Don't you go thinking that this rant has anything to do with reality. Man came unhinged.”
“You've read the statements,” Moller countered, “but you didn't interview them. I could discount some of Anthony's statement; he screwed up and he knows it; I got the vibe from him that he'd blame anybody but himself for his mistake. Cortez, though . . . he was utterly convinced at what he saw.”
“Okay, fine. He's convinced.” Richter set the copy of Dale's note on the table. “Look, I can line you up a hundred people that are convinced that 9/11 was an inside job, or that FEMA has concentration camps ready to go, or even that the Loch Ness monster is real. That doesn't make him—or them—any less crazy. Eyewitness testimony is crap. You know it and I know it.”
“Hard to argue with the footprints, though.” Moller sighed. “You're right, though. It's some kind of paranoid delusion that Mr. Paard had, and it coincidentally coincided with a currently inexplicable event.”
“Right.”
“And he's still out there, somewhere.”
“That's the spirit.”
“And we'll find him.” Moller leaned back in the chair. “Maybe not right away, because whatever he did to vanish didn't leave any obvious evidence behind, but like every other case it'll be obvious in hindsight. Or maybe we'll get a break before that.” He began chuckling.
Richter gave him a strange look.
“It's just—did you ever watch X-Files? Because I just had a strange feeling that you're like Scully, trying to give a nice, scientific basis for this case, and I'm Mulder, coming up with some nutty theory about aliens.”
“Well, your name is kind of close.” Richter shrugged. “But I've got to admit, I'm no Gillian Anderson.”
“Yeah.” Moller got out of the chair. “I wonder what's in that safe-deposit box?”
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Holy Buck, Ditzy!
Wait....What WAS in the safe deposit box?
Hey!!! Congratulations on making the featured list! Anyway keep up the good work. I'm looking forward to more.
5245369
Remember that mane hair from Celestia that Dale found?
awesome, lyra is ok, kat is ok, and dale is still trying to hold everything together!
5245374 ......motherfucker.....I always disregard the possibilty of Chekhov's Gun.... It seemed like such an inconsequential thing that I just forgot about it!
So is that guy actually going to the town cops or is he just going to let her abuse him in such a fashion.
5245373
Thanks!
5245397
Most likely, he's going to count his blessings, tuck tail between legs, and run like hell back to Canterlot.
5245385
Dale's starting to get a handle on things, Kate's recovering, and Lyra's at least gotten through a terrible life-experience mostly unscathed.
5245388
Sometimes, even IRL, it's the most inconsequential thing that breaks a case wide open. Or leaves the police scratching their heads in confusion.
Oh yes, Ricter and co., it will be painfully obvious in hindsight. Meanwhile we readers will laugh from beyond the universal barrier at your feeble attempts to understand things from your limited position.
Also, am I a bad person for wanting Kate's medication to wear off and for he to have a freakout?
5245397
Perry's headed to the train station to lick his wounds in silence, and he will never, ever, return to Ponyville.
5245493
So he's really just going to let someone abusive just attack him, beat the hell out of him, and let it go..?
5245473
That just seems outright horrible to me, considering the abuse he took.
5245500 Reading between the lines, he probably feels like he deserves it for presumably leaving his wife/lover and child out to dry.
5245500
From a modern standpoint, that's a pretty awful thing to have happen. All he did was get her pregnant, leave her, and never give her a single bit in support, among other things. But even now, there's still the concept of 'frontier justice,' where someone gets what they deserved for their misdeeds in the past. She scared the crap out of him, probably gave him both a mental and physical scar . . . but that's all. In a poetic way, it closes the books.
5245515
So from the spoiler text, you are saying he 'Deserved' to be attacked then? Or justifying the rationale behind it.
5245515 Holy shit, totally missed it the first time but that was Derpy!
5245528
. . . eh, deserved comes with baggage. In real life, I'm generally not in support of solving problems with violence . . . but in the sense of a story, Perry got what he deserved. Actually, he got off pretty lightly.
5245547
Yes. She's a bit of a fighter when it comes to protecting what's hers.
5245549
Yeah...I'm just going to state I disagree with that entirely and leave it at that then before I get into another comment long chain again.
5245528
From our perspective, what happened to him would have been enough to land Derpy in prison.
From the ponies' perspective, or at least those that live in a frontier town like Ponyville, what she did might not even be worth batting an eye over.
I'm not saying whether it's right or wrong, just how different societies might view it.
5245374
Not sure where this is going. Even if they do find the evidence.. it's still a dead end.
If Dale comes back, he'll either come back without the ponies (Where the evidence won't make any difference because he assaulted someone in uniform and it was totally because magical ponies your honor.) or with ponies (Where the evidence won't make any difference, because he still assaulted someone in uniform even though it really was magical ponies.)
It's not like humans are going to build a wormhole when they see a tiny bit of magical pony.
5245858
It's true that the hair by itself won't solve the case. It can't. (realistically, the case can't be solved)
It does tip the scales a little bit in the direction of the bizarre, though. Not enough to be proof, sure, but enough that Moller and Richter begin to wonder if that note that Dale left on his kitchen table maybe isn't the ravings of a madman?
Quite honestly, I'm not sure what a judge would make of it. No magical ponies, sure, they throw the book at him. In the company of magical ponies, who are all calling him "Ambassador Dale?" That's probably something that's not in case law.
Tsk tsk! The ponies don't know how to properly steep tea! They probably ground the leaves too fine and steeped them for far too long in water that was at the boiling point!
Silly ponies, don't they know that the young leaf tips, quick-dried have sweet, fresh flavor with a hint of it's own natural, almost-floral sweetness when steeped for between 45-60 seconds in water that is approximately 75 C?
*Alondro is many things; including, apparently, a tea snob.*
5245935
Or, perhaps they have a different palate, and prefer their tea more bitter.
A correction to make, something I don't think someone as detail oriented as Fancy Pants would have made: Dale took her back to his home.
He didn't take her to his home. He took her to his camp.
You have a very rich and fun story going on here. I'm glad I'm along for the ride!
Another excellent chapter. I'm extremely glad to see this being continued.^^ And glad to see all the evidence is starting to get the cops to question themselves. XD And love how Ambrosia seems to be getting more affectionate to him too. XD I'd laugh if she and Lyra started to get jealous about him or something(always considered Lyra and Bon Bon bi, not just les, especially considering that the comics have Bon Bon showing blushing gazes towards Big Mac).
5246019
That's true, but the ponies don't know it's not his regular home.
5246124
Thank you!
5246146 Yes they do. Remember? Lyra figured it out and even told them as such that it was just a temporary camp. Guess you spent so much time with the one-shots that you forgot that detail. XD Understandable, considering how long your mind's been focused on other matters.^_^
5246019 saying "camp" likely would have raised more questions, so he went with "home".
5246158
Yes, she's about 100% positive--as close as she can be without being able to have a specific discussion with Dale. Fancy Pants should know as well: although I never detailed his discussion with Lyra or his interpretation of Dale's drawings, it would be logical that Lyra would refer to it as a 'camp.' For the population at large, though, it's an easier story to tell if it's his 'home,' and certainly for the purpose of an interview, implying that Dale was willing to bring Lyra into his home will read better in the next day's paper.
Poor Lyra and Trixie, I feel so sorry for those two. Noble Voice, on the other hand, I do not. At least the whole thing with Dale and Kate is settling down, though who know how long that will last with Kate. And, interesting to see the reactions on the human side.
C&Cs:
Her ears turned in his direction as she spoke, and she came up with a mouthful of mail, turning her head in his direction curiously.
> I think you mean ‘he spoke’.
HIs clothes were ruined and he could feel blood trickling down his leg, but his only thought was for escape as he began trotting clumsily down the street away from her.
> Correction: ‘His’.
5246308
Thank you! Corrections made.
Hey, you went for the Crouching Moron Hidden Badass interpretation of Derpy Hooves! I think it's obvious from An Epistolary Legal Consultation Between Princesses -- even the parts I've written so far, that I fundamentally agree with you on this. GMTA!
Oh, and never come between her and her Muffin!
Followed your link -- oh, this is Desiree! Who is even more of a Badass than mine!
Dale can recognize humulus lupulus flowers when drawn on a card, when both the artist and the flowers in question come from another planet? He has some serious botanical chops.
Awww, I wanted Kate to pet Luna and make a huge scene. That would have been hilarious!
5246236 Ah. True enough.
Halfway through this I knew you were teasing us. Saying that Luna would show up, but then not actually doing anything with it yet.
Also...
GRRARGLLGGRRRRRRAAAAAUUGH! 'MURICAN NOT BOW, NOT SUBSERVIENT, NOT WEAK!!!! DALE NOT BE WEAK! DALE FREE 'MURICAN! BOW; NO!!!1!!11!one!!
Found this while I was reading the chapter again. Should say "another thing".
5246638
Oh, leave him alone. He's trying to make a good impression.
He has to work with these people, after all, so it pays to have them like him.
5246002 you know, we have to agree on that point. They do eat daisies after all......
I can imagine Cheerilee's conversation at the dinner table:
> so, do you know what time it is?
< it gets later for the day.
> ok, are you enjoying your time here?
< it makes fun for the place.
> how does your food taste?
< the day I took a liking to for food?
....
Wonder what their reactions will be once they see the multicolored strand of hair. It won't point to "ALIENS!!!" immediately, but they're probably gonna start thinking a lot more deeper about the mysterious disappearance.
I'm also glad that things are finally calming down; to be honest, the trial part of this had kind of started to bore me.
Regardless, Katherine's going to become sober soon and I'm going to bloody wonder how the hell he is going to explain all of this to her.
"Uhh, yeah, you almost had your arm amputated but was saved by a bunch of multicolored alien horses that may or not be super technological advance... or wield magic! Unfortunately, I don't know what the damn word for that is yet. *Raises a middle finger at the author* " Katherine had a growing look of horror on her face as her brain tries to process the tsunami of information being thrown at her. Dale just smiled- a few drop of tears from dropping from his eyes. He raised his arms above his head and slowly moved them apart, a extremely bright colorful rainbow appearing as he did so.
"Welcome to the land of Equestria!!!"
I can't imagine Derpy beating someone.
bad ass derpy mother is bad ass! i wonder if she is dating anypony?
As much as I dislike noble voice Luna really comes across as authoritarian and vindictive - in general really.
was there ever a doubt that lyra was not going to come out of the trial ok.
good job on the chapter ton of info and a good read, I cant weight for the next installment.
This chapter just made me feel really sorry for Kathrin for some reason. I think it's because of how... vulnerable, I would say, she appeared. I know it's probably partly the morphine, but the scene where she just dazedly asks for a toothbrush hit me hard. Like, bam, in the feels man. It's like watching a traumatized person trying to cope with whatever happened by asking or worrying about mundane things. I felt so sorry for her. Once the morphine wears off, I'm starting to think we'll be seeing a bit of flying furniture coupled with screaming.