Fighting Fisher
Max sighed, resting his head on his desk and peering up at the tower of paperwork that seemed to stretch almost to the ceiling. It had been two months! Two months since he had arrived in Canterlot! The winter was over and the equinox had been yesterday and it would be summer soon, and he still had forms from his first days in court not yet completed. He shoved his chair back angrily, causing the pile to sway slightly, He raised a hoof, struck with the momentary desire to shove the whole pile over and jump up and down on its papery corpse.
“Don’t do that!” said Mrs Gobhar sharply from the other room. “Remember how long it took you to tidy it all up again last time?” Max paused and looked guiltily around his office, frowning. He stuck his head out through the door into the outer office where his assistant sat. Then he looked back in again. There was no way she could see him from that angle... how did she do that?
“I just know,” replied the goat to his unspoken question.
Can she read my mind? wondered Max.
“No, you’re just very bad at hiding what you're thinking,” said Mrs G, looking up from her work for the first time. With a sigh, she took off her glasses and stared at him with her slitted eyes. “You’re not going to get anything done in this mood, you know.”
Max sighed. “I know. I’m bored!” he moaned.
“You’d think that running the country would be exciting enough for you.”
They both knew it wasn’t anything like as exciting as Max had once thought. Back home, if he wanted to fix a wall, he’d go out, scrounge up some bricks, ask a few friends for help, and fix the wall. Here you had to fill in your own weight in paperwork, lose it all, find it again, recycle it as firelighters, debate it for 6 months, then get three estimates on the cost before you could even consider starting such work. By that time the wall would have fallen down and you’d have to start the whole process again, only with different paperwork this time. Then, even when you thought you’d done something good, you’d find out you might have done it wrong.
Upon his suggestion, Fragrant’s disaster relief committee had visited some of the local communities affected by the Longest Day. Communities damaged by the riots that had broken out as ponies panicked about the midnight sun, and those that had been affected by various weather faults caused by the extended daylight. Once they had seen the equine face of the disaster, the committee had quickly started passing out aid. It had all seemed to work. Then Viceroy Night Light had congratulated him on his subtle manipulation of the committee. When Max had asked the Viceroy what he meant, he had looked surprised and pointed out that the committee could only visit nearby sites, and thus the relief was mostly concentrated around Canterlot, with the outer provinces - such as Nulpar - getting less, if any at all. Max had never meant for that to happen!
He knew even Fragrant found the bureaucracy taxing sometimes, he’d walked in on her after her cloud export bill had been delayed on a technicality. The normally demure mare had been swearing like a sailor, he’d had to look up what some of the words she used meant. It had been quite educational, he didn’t know pegasi could do that with clouds.
He sighed as he thought of Duchess Posey. She had returned to Cloudsdale to spend the holiday with her family and was not due to return until tomorrow, but he missed her. In the time since the Princess had made him her squire, they had slipped into an easy pattern. They would normally meet up for ‘breakfast’, held in the late afternoon due to the court’s nocturnal schedule, to discuss their day’s plans. Then off to committee meetings, he still sat in on her’s when possible, and he had joined his first, Transport Infrastructure in the southern border provinces. Not immediately relevant to him, but it was to do with transport and was somewhere to start. Then, if possible, lunch together and off to court to take part in any important votes, followed by paperwork for a few hours, before she insisted he provide a report of what he’d done that day. She was still highly critical of his work, but he felt she was starting to grudgingly accept his skills; in fact they often stayed together once he’d completed his ‘homework’ to just chat for a while about their lives and plans... well, Max did most of the talking, but Fragrant seemed interested in what he said and she was starting to open up a bit about her own life. It was nice; a niggling part of him wanted it to be something more, but he clamped down on that most of the time. There was no way she’d feel the same. Anyway, without her about, he felt a little lost.
“Hello? Equestria to Max!” called Mrs G.
Max shook himself. He realised he’d gotten lost in thought. “Sorry. What was that?”
“I said, you’re not going to get any work done while you’re like this. Go do something else for an hour or so.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know - play hoofball with some of the pages, plot to overthrow the princess, read to underprivileged foals, climb a mountain. Just sort your head out. And bring me back some donuts when you’re done, I’m feeling peckish.”
Max grinned. The old goat had taken a liking to the fancy pastries served in the castle, and tried them at every opportunity. “Will do, Mrs G,” said Max, watching her return to her work. He worried for a moment that there might be too much to do for just one goat; Fragrant had a whole host of assistants to run her office, but she was much more important than he was. He filed the idea away for future consideration as he left the office. He could probably do with a break, but what to do? He considered for a moment. With no Fragrant, his options seemed a little limited. Maybe he should try to make a few more friends? He only really knew a hoof full of courtiers in any depth; despite working together, most of them seemed rather standoffish. And a few guards... ah ha! That was it! He could see if the guards’ training grounds were free. He’d managed to get access to the guards’ gymnasium and the climbing gear there; it was a good way to stay fit and keep his skills sharp. Despite Canterlot being on top of a mountain, it was surprisingly hard to get in some decent climbing. An hour or so’s workout would let him burn off some energy and hopefully settle his mind. With this plan in mind, he headed off towards the relevant section of the castle.
Max was making his way through the maze of corridors that made up the castle. Even in two months he’d probably only passed through a tenth of them, if that; there were tales of courtiers who had gotten lost for days, if not months. He was passing by a cluster of offices when he recognised a familiar face. Buttercup Fields was making her way in the other direction, saddlebags full of paperwork. Max frowned. There was no sign of her father; that was unusual. “Buttercup!” he called.
The young mare turned and gave him a wan smile as she noticed him. “Good evening, Max,” she replied.
“Evening, how is your father?” he asked.
“He... he’s at home. He’s not feeling well today.”
“Oh, I am sorry.” The old stallion’s health seemed to fluctuate; he had seemed fine when Max had last seen him a few days ago, but there had been times when he could hardly stand.
“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” said Buttercup, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “It’s just a cold.”
“Is there something I can do to help?” asked Max, indicating the paperwork on her back.
“No, thank you for offering, but I can do this myself.”
“Well if you’re sure...” began Max.
“I’m sure, but thank you again, you’re a good friend.” She impulsively leaned forwards and gave him a quick hug and maybe it was his imagination but he thought he felt a trace of a nuzzle as well.
He was a bit taken aback by her reaction. “Well, if you ever want to talk or need a hoof, I’m always around. I’m sure your father will be better soon.”
“I know... I hope... I get worried about him, you see. He’s old, and someday he’s not going to be there anymore, and I don’t want to worry about that, and he doesn’t want me to worry, but I do, and... this morning he thought I was my mother. He said it was a joke, but... but it wasn’t… his memory...” her voice broke and she began to sniff.
Max leaned into her again. “I understand,” he said. “My mother had an accident a few years ago, and it...” he swallowed. “It looked bad, and I thought about what it would be like without her. You just have to make the most of the time you have.”
Buttercup dried her eyes. “I... I think I understand. I want there to be as much time with him as possible.”
“Look, would you like a drink or something?” offered Max. “We could talk some more, if you want.”
“No, no thank you. I need to get this work done; the wheels of government don’t stop just because dad is sick.”
“If you’re sure?” said Max. He suspected that Buttercup already did much of Rolling Fields’ work as it was. She was always there, quietly in the background, but she didn’t miss much.
“Yes, thank you again. You’re a good pony, Baron Max.”
“Well I try,” said Max, as Buttercup turned and made her way off into the castle. It was sad about Baron Fields; the old stallion and his daughter were some of his closest friends in Canterlot. He hoped the Baron would be better soon, but he was elderly; such things were to be expected. Maybe he should write to his mother again. It had only been a few days since his last letter, but he wanted to keep in touch.
Sighing to himself, Max continued towards the gym, feeling morose. He was just at a door when a voice called out to him. “Baron Max!” Max looked around in surprise to see a heavily muscled tan unicorn with a brown and red mane approaching him, flanked by a second - smaller but wiry and dangerous looking - stallion.
“Oh, Archduke Fisher,” said Max nervously. He’d seen the Archduke about court, but this was the first time they had really spoken. Max felt rather intimidated. Posey’s opinion of him seemed somewhat mixed; she was impressed by his ability to actually get things done at court, but was less than happy with the way he achieved his aims. ‘Breaking far too many eggs making the omelette’ was the way she had put it; they had been eating breakfast at the time.
“I’ve been looking for you,” announced the noble, striding closer. “I need to talk to you about this report you’ve made to the Ministry of War.” He held out a piece of paper covered in Mrs G’s spidery mouth writing.
“What about it?” asked Max, peering at the paper. It seemed to be something about the population of Nulpar and their employment.
“It’s not good enough! There is a mistake!”
“Where?”
“There, look, number of province guard - zero. How can you forget to mention the ponies who protect you?” He snorted angrily.
Max frowned. Province guard were the - often part time - forces raised by the nobility to protect their lands; at times of war they were folded into the armed forces. He supposed, now that Nulpar was a province, he should found a unit, but it hardly seemed to be a major priority. “No, that’s correct. I haven't had time to create a guard yet.”
“Not had time! Surely you recognise how important this is, given the recent situation? Corona’s return means that none of our provinces can be without protection. Don’t you at least have a militia or some such you can promote until you can train proper forces?”
“Not really. Sadlzburg and some of the larger settlements have part time sheriffs and maybe a bounty hunter or two, but we’re fairly peaceful - apart from a few rowdy drunks, we don’t have any problems.”
“What about smugglers or bandits?” said Fisher, narrowing his eyes.
“We don’t get many smugglers, well more than once anyway. There are easier places to try and cross the border, and there’s not much traffic to raid.” Max felt he should stand up for his province’s honour. “When there have been problems, the whole community has banded together to deal with the troublemakers, but it’s not been necessary in my lifetime.”
Fisher mumbled something under his breath that sounded like ‘weak’, before sighing. “Very well, Baron Max. I will have to look into this matter further; it may be necessary to move some units into your lands if you will not protect them yourself.”
Max’s ears shot up at that; when not on a war footing, the armed forces acted as civil engineers and might actually help his plan for a network of roads in Nulpar. He had discussed the idea with Fragrant, but she had pointed out that it would become the province’s responsibility to feed and house the troops. The unit would thus be a serious drain on its limited resources. At the time they had decided to look into the matter later.
Fisher looked up at the door to the gym. “Anyway, what brought you here?”
Max was dragged out of his thoughts and looked around in surprise. “I was going to try and get some exercise,” he managed.
“As was I. At least you are trying to keep yourself fighting fit. There are many others around here who do not put in the effort. Still, these facilities are supposed to be for guards, which you are not,” said Fisher, narrowing his eyes.
“Oh, um, I talked to some of the guard and they don’t mind,” said Max, shying away slightly. He wasn’t entirely sure how proper that agreement was, really. Then he realised something. “Wait, you were going to use the gym as well! You’re not a guard!”
“We,” he indicated himself and his bodyguard, “are in the reserves; we have to be prepared at all times.”
“Ah, I guess that is all right then,” mumbled Max as the three of them walked into the training area. It was empty of other ponies.
Quickly separating himself from the Archduke and his guard, Max made his way over to the climbing wall. It was designed to have adjustable sections to provide a range of environments and difficulties; it even had boulders stacked on top which should be dropped on anypony trying to climb it. He didn’t feel like spending the time to set that up so he left it as it was. After a few warm up exercises, he started to strap on his safety harness. He didn’t usually use such protection in the field, but it would be stupid to hurt himself just practicing. Once he was secure, he started to scramble up the wall, his hooves questing for a grip as he went.
Halfway up the wall, he looked back to see that Fisher and his guard had strapped on thick padding and were sparring. Fisher was wielding a warhammer, while the other pony had chosen an axe. Neither stallion seemed to be going easy on the other, and the weapons clashed again and again in the unicorn’s auras; at the same time they also struck out at each other with their hooves. Max was very glad he wasn’t involved in the fight. The blows were traded almost faster than Max could perceive; while Fisher’s style was cold and methodical, his bodyguard’s was more fluid and aggressive. The two ponies seemed well matched and the fight continued for several minutes, finally ending when a swing from Fisher’s hammer knocked his opponent’s axe back for a moment. This distracted the smaller stallion and allowed a jab from Fisher’s right hoof to connect, driving him back, which in turn allowed his employer to follow up with a further blow from his weapon, knocking the other stallion off his hooves. The felled pony snarled for a moment, and Max thought the fight might continue, but then the guard calmed himself with some effort and got to his hooves, bowing to his master.
Fisher wiped his brow and turned to watch with interest as Max clambered to the top of the wall among the rocks stored up there. “I suppose climbing must be the only way to get to some of the settlements in your province,” he said.
“Yes,” replied Max, happy to be on a safer topic. “There’s some places, like the Eyrie, that are almost impossible for non-flyers to get to.”
“The Eyrie?” asked Fisher with a frown.
“It’s a griffin township, up near the Broken Backs. They mostly keep to themselves, but Bloodstrike is...”
“Griffins!” snarled Fisher. “What are they doing on our side of the border?”
Max craned his neck to look down at their minister of war. “Their ancestors came over almost a century ago now. There was some political upheaval and they got exiled or something. It was a long time ago - they’ve been good neighbours since.”
“A century?” said Fisher, narrowing his eyes. “That would be the attempted overthrow of King Bismark. The rebels were reported to support war with Equestria,” he muttered. “Why didn’t you tell me of this?”
“Tell you of what? They’re Equestrian citizens.” Max did not like where this was going. “I went to Bloodstrike’s wedding for the princess’s sake.”
“They could be a fifth column within Equestria for all we know.”
“What! They’re Equestrians!”
“Really? What kind of name is Bloodstrike then? Does that sound Equestrian to you?”
“Her father’s name, she took it on when she became mayor, some tradition or other. Her birth name is Southern Breeze - her father gave her an Equestrian name - and her chicks are named Gentle and Gusty.”
“Hum, trying to blend in with the locals. Even if they don’t mean us harm, they should be interrogated for anything they know about the current disposition of the kingdoms. I’ll send some investigators as soon as I have the time. I’ll expect the cooperation of your people, of course.”
“No!” cried Max. It took him a moment to realise what he’d just said.
“What was that!” said Fisher his eyes flashing.
Max had an image of armed pegasi swooping down on the Eyrie, Gentle and Gusty crying in panic as they were grabbed and dragged away from their mother. “I said no! You won’t do anything to them - none of them were even alive when they left the kingdoms, they don’t know anything!”
“That is for me to find out. And you do not have the power to stop me in military, or any other matters, Baron Max.”
“I’ll tell Duchess Posey!”
“Yes, why don’t you hide behind your teacher’s skirts? There is nothing she can do either - not that she would, she is all talk. You know, she almost impressed me when she took over during the longest night, but then all she did was keep the ‘peace’. She should have declared martial law to prepare to prepare Equestria for the conflict. Her pussyfooting around could have cost us dearly. She is weak.”
Seeing red, Max leapt from the top of the wall, the safety rope gently lowering him to the ground next to Fisher. “She is not!” he insisted. “And you will do nothing to the Eyrie. It is in my province, they are my people, they are my friends.”
“And you think you can protect them?”
“I do. I will die before I allow harm to befall my little ponies,” replied Max, quoting one of his initiation oaths.
“They are not ponies,” replied Fisher, sounding bored.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Huh, it seems you have some fire in your belly after all, Baron Max. Would you care to put your money where your mouth is, as they say? Prove to me that you are willing to fight for your people.”
“How?” asked Max, caution starting to break through his righteous indignation.
“Spar with me, show me that you can stand against me, for... let’s say three minutes without surrendering or getting pinned for a count of three. Then I will consider changing my mind.” He smiled nastily. “Unless you want to go running back to Duchess Posey and tell her the nasty Archduke was mean to you?” Behind Fisher, his guard laughed.
Swallowing hard, Max considered. He’d never been in a serious fight before and he’d already seen how skilled Fisher was. He doubted he had a chance, but what option did he have? “You’re on,” he announced.
Fisher actually looked a little surprised. “Very well, choose your weapon.” He gestured towards a case containing the various practice weapons.
As Fisher’s guard started to strap padded armour onto him, Max glanced at the selection. There were swords, spears, axes, hammers, maces and other weapons Max didn’t even recognise, none of which he had any idea how to use. In the end he chose a pair of armoured boots on his fore hooves; it seemed the simplest choice available to him. He tried a few experimental punches. Max winced as the guard pulled the last of the straps tight, and he pranced around for a moment, trying to get used to the feel of the bulky armour.
“Are you ready?” asked Fisher, swinging his hammer around in his aura.
“Err?” mumbled Max, staring at the heavy hammer Fisher carried in his aura.
“Oh, don’t worry, Baron, it is enchanted to reduce its mass and thus damage. I would have to work quite hard to seriously hurt you with it,” he said with a grin.
Max took a deep breath and tried not to shake. This was probably a very stupid idea. “Very well, I’m ready.”
“Volk,” commanded Fisher. His guard turned a large hourglass, signalling the start of the Match. Fisher took a step forwards and bowed slightly to Max, not taking his eyes off of his opponent. Max did likewise, almost staggering in his unfamiliar armour. As the seconds ticked past, the two stallions circled, each trying to get a measure of the other.
Fisher was the first to act. With a flash of his horn, he swung his hammer in a large arc. Max swung his hoof up and knocked the weapon away, but the attack was a feint, and Fisher glided up to his opponent’s unprotected side and struck out with a blow Max felt through his padding, sending him tumbling across the floor. Rather than following up, Fisher stepped back and allowed Max to get to his hooves. “You know you can surrender whenever you want,” he taunted.
Not wasting his breath with a reply, Max stepped forwards and clumsily swung his a hoof at Fisher, who effortlessly blocked it. He then swung his own weapon back, forcing Max to stagger back, almost falling. A further blow from the archduke’s hooves and Max once again found himself lying on the ground. This time, Fisher leapt onto his opponent and attempted to pin him, to end the contest quickly. Max desperately rolled aside, his hooves slipping on the mat before he got a grip. He had only just gotten up before a blow from Fisher’s weapon caught him on the side, driving the air from his lungs even through the padding. The Archduke rushed forwards again and pushed down on Max, trying to keep him from standing.
“One,” declared the bodyguard, starting to count Max out. Max forced himself to breathe and scrambled with all four legs to try to dislodge his opponent.
“Two.” Max managed to get his hind legs under Fisher, and with a grunt pushed the stallion off of him. Fisher gave a grimace of pain and rolled, rising smoothly to his hooves and turning back to his opponent, who had just managed to stand again, breathing hard. Max’s eyes flickered to the timer. Just under half of the sand was now in the lower vessel.
Starting to look annoyed, Fisher moved forwards again, swinging his hammer in front of him in order to force Max to back away. Trying to duck under the weapon, Max struck out with his hooves again, missing Fisher’s face by several inches. The return blow caught him on the side of his head above the eye and almost flipped him over, but he staggered back up before Fisher could try to pin him again.
Fisher snarled in frustration for a moment, then seemed to force himself to calm down. He struck out with his hammer again and again in a calculated pattern. Max managed to block the first with his gloves, the force almost knocking him over, and just managed to duck the second. The rest struck home, knocking him from side to side, with the last driving him to the ground and making his head spin.
For a second Max laid there, considering just giving up, just to make the hurting stop. But no! It was his responsibility to protect his people - to protect Posey - and he wasn’t going to surrender while he still drew breath! He grunted as Fisher leapt onto his back, pinning him.
“One,” intoned Volk with a grin, clearly enjoying the spectacle.
Max squirmed under Fisher, but the other stallion kept a firm grip. “Two.”
Max swung out a wild hoof, the glove catching Fisher on the snout and causing him to shy back for a moment, allowing Max to roll away and stagger to his hooves. One of his eyes was beginning to swell, and he felt like one big bruise under the padding. Glancing over, Max noted that there was almost a minute of the conflict remaining. There was no way he could hold out that long. He had to think of something.
Fisher got back to his hooves, his nose bleeding slightly. He wiped the blood away with a hoof and set himself to charge at his rival, weapon hovering next to him. Max looked at him for a moment before throwing his weapons aside, turning tail and running for the far end of the gym. “Coward!” snarled Fisher, giving chase. “Is this how you’ll protect your people? By running away?”
Not listening, Max leapt for the wall and the grips on it. Despite the weight of his armour, he scurried up it as quickly as he legs could carry him. A moment later, Fisher came to a stop at the foot of the wall. “Not a good strategy,” he noted, “when I have certain options not open to you.” He levitated the hammer up after Max, swinging blow after blow on his body. Max just held on as much as he could, with his hooves and on occasion his teeth. From below, Fisher’s grunts became more and more frustrated as the earth pony seemed to be able to absorb his every attack.
Finally, Max reached the top of the wall, and he had nowhere else to go. Fisher’s weapon followed, and he was forced to duck and dodge while trying to maintain his grip. He had hoped to have been able to use the boulders stored up here for cover, but his opponent was too skilled with his aura. The only way seemed to be down, thought Max. Then he paused. Maybe that was the answer. Fisher drew back his hammer for a final mighty blow to dislodge Max when the Baron leapt for the hammer, wrapping his fetlocks around it for a second.
Fisher instinctively tried to rip the weapon from his opponent's grasp before cutting his aura to allow Max to fall, but the few seconds was enough for Max to flip around the hammer and fly hooves outstretched towards the Archduke. About half way down, Max decided that this was one of the stupidest things he had ever done, as he saw Fisher’s eyes grow large beneath him. Max let out a scream as he landed on the Archduke; his padded form turned out to be lumpier than Max had expected. A flailing hoof struck out and slammed into the unicorn’s horn, causing him to cry out in pain. His hammer thudded to the ground some distance away. Stunned for a moment, Fisher’s head dropped back.
Volk’s mouth hung open for a moment before he rushed over to carry out his duty. “Two,” he started. Fisher’s eyes cleared and flashed with anger. He grabbed at Max and threw him aside, causing Max’s head to slam into the ground hard. Max, totally disorientated, couldn’t stop the Archduke as he pinned him again, locking all four of his limbs in place with some sort of hold, which made his joint scream out in pain.
“One, two, three,” counted Volk with a grin. “Fisher wins in…” He turned to the timer and his face fell.
“What is it?” snarled Fisher landing a final blow on Max, who was still struggling beneath him. He turned to the hour glass. All the sand was now in the lower chamber. Max had won.
Trying to keep to the shadows, Max limped his way back to his office. After his ‘victory’, and his body certainly didn’t feel like it was a victory, he had laid on the practice mat for a long time waiting for the world to stop spinning. Fisher and his bodyguard had left quickly, the Archduke muttering something unpleasant-sounding under his breath, leaving Max alone. When he finally felt up to it, he had dragged himself to his hooves and slowly stripped off the padded armour. He supposed it had done its job as he wasn’t actually dead, but his whole body felt like one big bruise; his grey coat covered the worst of it, but some patches of darkened skin were showing. More obviously, his right eye was almost swollen closed. He didn’t feel like explaining to anypony what had happened to him, and luckily the corridors seemed to be more or less clear of ponies. He would have to face Mrs G’s wrath for his stupidity once he got to his office, but if he was lucky she’d have something that he could use to cover his injuries long enough to sneak home. He wasn’t looking forward to how stiff he’d feel tomorrow.
Finally he found himself outside his office, for once glad it was away from the main throughways of the castle. He pushed open the door and entered, trying to stand tall, although that only caused a further wave of pain to flow through him. Mrs Gobhar’s head turned to him and her slitted eyes widened. To Max’s surprise, there was another pony in the office. Duchess Posey turned to greet him. “Ah, Baron Max,” she began before her eyes widened and a look of shock filled her face. “Mou... Mounty,” she stammered - he didn’t think she’d used his first name before - “You... you’re, what happened?” Wings outstretched, she literally flew the few feet to him before stopping, seemingly unsure whether to touch him or not.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he began, trying to put on a brave face. “I just had a bit of an accident.”
“Accident!” She reached out with a leg touching his barrel; her hoof came back spotted with red. “You’re bleeding!” Without pause, she reached out with her mouth and tore off a strip from the lacy sky blue dress she was wearing today, and padded at the injury with it. This was probably the only time he’d seen the normally composed pegasus panicking, though Max. He didn’t like it.
“It’s nothing. Some of the straps were a little tight and they dug in.”
“Straps?” said Mrs G, gently pushing the distressed pegasus aside and examining her employer’s injuries. “I only told you to blow off some steam for a while. What have you been doing to yourself?” She prodded Max gently with a hoof, causing him to wince.
“I’m sorry, I forgot about the donuts, Mrs G.”
“Those can wait, dear. Now get up on the desk so I can have a look at you,” she ordered. Max complied, trying not to mess up the paperwork. “What happened?”
“Um... I might have gotten into a bit of a fight.”
“A fight!” squeaked Fragrant. “With whom?”
“Archduke Fisher,” replied Max, trying to grin. Even that hurt at the moment.
“Fisher!” exclaimed Fragrant, a bit of fire starting to return to her. “Max! What have you been doing?”
“Um, he started it?” The Duchess glared at him, looking distinctly unimpressed. “He was threatening my people - he said he’d interrogate the griffins. Then he challenged me to spar. I couldn’t tell him no, I’d have looked like a coward.”
“Max, Fisher is the head of the Ministry of War. He used to be a member of the armed forces; he’s probably one of the most physically dangerous courtiers.” She snorted, then her voice became gentle again. “He could have really hurt you.”
Mrs G finished her examination. “Honestly, Billys,” she sighed, “I’d expect this sort of thing from Brian, but you’re supposed to have a brain in your head.” She gently tapped Max on the forehead. “Did you at least sort out whose was bigger?”
“Bigger? Oh! Well, I guess I beat him, I guess.” To his surprise, Max found he actually felt good about that, despite the disapproving glares of the two mares. “He thought he’d beat me in a few minutes, but I turned out to be tougher than he thought.”
“Well you were lucky,” said Mrs G. “I don’t think he did you any serious harm. I’ll see if I can get the ingredients for my ointment; that should deal with the worst bruises.” Max made a face. The balm worked, but it smelt like dung and sometimes made patches of his coat fall out. “We should get something for your eye.”
Stepping back slightly, Fragrant closed her eyes and hummed for a moment as her necklace glowed for a moment. The temperature in the crowded office seemed to spike, and her feathers began to frost over. She rubbed her wings together to produce a snowball. “Here, try this.” Max shuddered as she caressed his throbbing flesh with her icy pinions.
“Thanks,” muttered Max, taking the ice in his hoof. He felt Fragrant’s feathers gently slide across his bruised muzzle.
“It is really not seemly for nobles to be brawling like common thugs. It’s not like you were hurt protecting Equestria from Corona - it was just a primitive chest beating contest! I know Fisher threatened your people, but he was just trying to bait you. You should have just walked away, Max,” scolded Fragrant.
“He called you weak as well,” Max pointed out.
“Well, clearly you should have knocked his head off then,” said Fragrant dryly. “As I told you before, I can fight my own battles.”
“I know,” mumbled Max, feeling chastised. “But you’ve done so much for me, I had to stand up for you,” he mumbled. Then he perked up slightly. “Why are you here anyway? I didn’t think you would be back until later.”
“I got away a little earlier than planned, and my carriage found a favourable wind. I only arrived about half an hour ago, so I thought I would see how you were doing before unpacking.” She looked a little confused for a moment. “And stop trying to change the subject! I am still angry with you!”
“Sorry!”
“You should be. Now, I should see how my office is in my absence. I will be back in a while to see how you are.” As she turned to the door, Mrs G stopped her with a gentle hoof.
“This Fisher, is he the type to hold a grudge?” she whispered.
“Yes, I’m afraid he is. If he feels someone is a threat to Equestria, he won't stop until they’ve been dealt with.”
“And you’re going to try and deal with him.” It was hardly a question.
Fragrant considered for a moment. “Yes, I believe I can make him back off, for a while.”
“Good. Call me when you go and face him.”
She frowned at the nanny who calmly regarded her. What could the old goat do to help? Could she put some sort of curse on the Archduke? She’d heard stories of goats doing such things, but never believed them. “Very well,” she said uncertainly.
“Good,” announced Mrs G out loud. “Now you stay here, Max, and I’ll see about getting you something for your bruises. Maybe you can start on your paperwork.”
Max glanced into his office at the pile of paper on the desk - which seemed to have grown while he was away - and scowled. He thought he might have been better off going another round with Fisher.
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*Sigh* Max you twit. Still impressively done.
On one hand, he picked a fight with Fisher and earned his attention and ire. On the other hand, he won and earned a little TLC from Posey. All in all, that could have gone worse.
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Stay tuned...
I love this line in particular for some reason.
Probably should have gotten to these chapters earlier, but better late then never, I guess...
Really love the whole sequence with Mrs.G and her "NOT" mind reading at the start. It really shows just how well she knows her boss. Though I must say, if she was even half that insightful as a mother I'd feel sorry for her own kids and their inability to get away with anything. Also no sane pony, no matter how perseverant and responsible likes paperwork, so it's good to see Max join the club.
I could have sworn Fisher's mane was blue. I know rust-red was briefly consider, but I thought we switched it over to some shade of blue so he'd look less like Greengrass.
Otherwise though this scene plays great, and I love just how aback Fisher is taken at the idea of Nulpar having never needed a provincial guard before. It makes for a nice contrast between their priorities. Then there's the subsequent sparing match over Eyrie... the action was itself suitably intense, if expectedly one-sided. Really though, it's the preceding build up and the conviction Max has to stand up for all the citizens of his province regardless of race that speaks volumes of his character.
There's nothing all that unexpected as Max get's looked over in his office afterwards, but the interactions between him and Fragrant are touching never the less. I also like how despite telling Max she doesn't need his protection, she seems just as apt now to stand up for him, even if in a more politically appropriate fashion suiting her rank and station.
Hmm, in JULP I felt sorry for Fisher by the end. He was trying to do what he saw as the right thing and di stop a legit threat to Canterlot. Here... I kinda wanted to see him lose some teeth.