Addenda

by Miller Minus

2 – Good Knights Write Home [Adventure]

Recommended Reading: Stage of Discovery

---

I was just about ready to wake her up, standing awkwardly in the empty hallway, with my hoof hovering over the room number. I was also pretty close to just walking away and coming back later. It’s not her thing after all, getting up.

“No, no... Five o’clock is too much already.”

We both needed an update.

I rapped the door with my hoof like a feather, and after shaking my head and rolling my eyes, I cleared my throat and rapped it like a rock.

“Minny?” I sternly spoke to the door. After seconds of no response, I cracked it open and peeked inside. It was anything but a sleeper’s paradise; the setting sun had completely illuminated her room in brightness. The dust was refusing to settle in the air, and neither was the catastrophe sprawled on her bed. There were two complete opposite legs and a bandaged wing sticking high in the air, and a bushy, red tail splayed out the back of the covers like a palm tree. I chuckled a bit and entered, loudly closing the door behind me. I saw the catastrophe flinch and a head with shuttered eyes snake it’s way out of the covers. I gasped and quipped.

“It’s... alive?”

Its eyes opened and it grinned all the way through an engulfing stretch. Thankfully, the bandages wrapped around it were clinging on much better than the covers. This city had good doctors, that was for sure.

“Shhhh,” it hissed.

“C’mon, captain,” I said nudging her hoof with mine, “you should come get dinner with the recruits.”

She let out a yawn that sounded like a howl and smacked her lips together a few times. She shielded her eyes from the light of the sun, and I assumed she thought it was rising. I probably should have known better, now that I think about it.

“What’s the time?” She muttered.

Just as I answered her, I saw her try and sit up, wince and fall down annoyedly. She blew her mane out of her eyes and squinted at me. In hindsight, I suppose she could have been milking it.

“Are you okay to make the trip tomorrow?” I asked worriedly.

She made another attempt to sit up and succeeded. The covers fell off her chest and revealed the cast around her foreleg. She gave an exasperated sigh and rubbed it tenderly.

The nurse told her that nothing would scar (thank Celestia) and that she shouldn't be on it for a few weeks, but she and I both knew she could fly alongside us as long as she wanted. And it wasn't like they were going to keep her in a hospital any longer than it took to patch her up. Good, old, foolish Minny.

“Maybe one more day?” She guessed.

“Yeah, sure,” I nodded, “we can wait,” I said politely, knowing it wasn't going to stick.

“Nah, you go ahead. I can catch up.”

She always claimed to be such a good reader of others, but she never knew how much that rubbed off on me. Though, I suppose my talent only worked on her. She kept oscillating between her smiling self and some introspective teenager looking to find their way in life, or whatever. Everything had turned out fine, but something was definitely bothering her. I wanted to know what.

I set my saddlebags on the floor and floated out some items. I set my watch on her desk, took out my portable inkwell and featherpen, and flattened the piece of paper the hotel had left on the desk for such an occasion.

“Alright, well you should write a letter to the Princess,” I suggested as I popped the cork out of the well.

“Why? It’s one day.”

“Oh, come on. She loves getting letters. Especially from her field knights.”

She rolled over away from me and wrapped the top of the sheets around her neck, despite the rest of her body being uncovered.

“Alright, fine.”

“You won’t get much writing done if you stay in bed... Here, I’ll get you started.”

I pulled out the chair and planted myself in it. I peeked over my shoulder to see her slowly exhaling as if getting ready to fall asleep again.

I kind of just wanted her to fade back out. She deserved it, really. Not even just for the day before; I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for her quick thinking and, well, idiocy. It's a funny, dual world she lives in. One day making a fool of herself, the other talking the most sense you've ever heard. I wonder if others in her world found her as interesting as I did.

Sorry, I promised I wouldn't do that anymore.

---

---

I cleared my throat and withdrew the feather. I heard her shuffle the covers behind me as I dotted the paper and began to write.

"Dear Princess Celestia,

"How’s it hanging, boss? Hope everything's flizzity-fly down on the south side,"

"What the...“ She sputtered and sat up again, “I would never talk to her like that."

”It’s your girl Minerva here. Just wanted to write you about how our trip kinda fell off the trails a bit. I mean, it wasn't so bad. Foghorn was there with his handsome smile and his strong, chiseled jawline, and his-”

“Stooooooop.”

I chuckled and re-dipped the feather.

“You can always contribute,” I teased.

”Anywho,

“I’m totally bummed out that this trip went super bad. But hey, it was pretty cool too. I met this huge, evil, ice dragon in the mountains who nearly took Foghorn’s head off! It was pretty sweet."

“She missed on purpose... Probably. Was pretty sweet, though.”

”I got some good news! We stopped a bunch of the Freezies – I'm not sure what they were thinking either - during their supply run, and I even chased away that big bully Icetooth! He won’t be bothering the fair citizens of Equestria ever aga-“

“Stop,” she demanded more sternly than before. I winked back at her, not noticing the offense in her eyes and tried to continue.

”Next time you see him, he’ll be short a few tee-“

“I killed him, Foghorn,” she declared, rather nonchalantly and inconsequentially. My pen stopped writing and the silence robbed the room from us. The words thrust my heart down a hole. It made me wonder how deep it had fallen compared to hers. I shook my head dumbly and spoke:

“But I didn't see-“

“Snowstorm, remember? He’s buried where I left him.”

The ticking of my timepiece seemed to triple in volume as I floated the pen back to the inkwell and inserted it silently. I peeked over my shoulder to see her laying back on the pillow, foreleg clutching the sheets and eyes frozen on the ceiling.

“Are you okay?”

“Better than he is.”

I bit my lip and turned away again.

“You... you had to,” I tried to explain, “he was going to kill Turnpike.”

“Nooooo,” she corrected, “he was gonna kill me.”

“Yeah... I guess. But at least now the Freezies will disband, right? No more leader?”

“No again. I’m not convinced bandits can operate without a few second-in-commands plotting to steal the reins. I did one of them a favour, I’m sure.”

She paused to scan me over as if I was a toy on a manufacturing line she wasn't sure whether to approve.

“You have to think about these things,” she reminded me.

I just frowned and avoided her stare. I wanted to retort, but all I could come up with was how I was two years older than her, or how I wasn't the one bedridden at sunset looking like their mummifier was on a lunch break.

Or how she shouldn't talk about such things as if she had experienced them. I knew everything about her. She hadn't; she just read too many fantasy novels.

“So... what do we do about them?”

“Ignore them. They weren't planning on hurting anypony till they thought they were going to prison, anyways.”

I didn't like that answer. I mean, they were still pillagers. I decided to speak to the Princess later, but for now to finish coercing her out of bed.

”Anyways, Big C. The real reason I’m writing this letter is that-“

“I need a vacation.”

My eyes lit up and I swiveled towards her. She was still looking up stoically.

“Oh? Well that sounds nice. Where and when?”

She rotated her head to peer at the sun as it began to turn red and be eaten by the mountains.

“Here and now.”

Ah, I thought. Okay then, I thought. It wasn't that ‘something’ was bothering her, it was ‘everything.' I always hated that mood. I floated the letter in the air and stared at it momentarily before stripping it in two.

“You should proooobably be the one writing this.”

I threw the paper in the waste bin and packed my things. I knew I wasn't getting her on her hooves that night, but from some reason I still wanted to try. I placed a hoof on her bed and shook it gingerly. She didn't move.

“You sure you don’t want to come to dinner?”

No response.

As I trotted away, I felt the lopsided heaviness in my saddlebags. I pulled the heavy side open and withdrew a bag of coins. I floated it on her desk and dropped it loudly onto the wood. She jolted upright and threw her gaze at the noise.

“You’re going to need to buy a new sword, right?” I explained, “might as well spend it, otherwise we’ll get less next time.”

“We still have our budget?” She asked in shock.

“Turnpike held onto it. He’s a pretty good treasurer.”

She chortled in bewilderment.

“He had a knife to his friggin’ neck.”

“Yeah, but if he lost it, you woulda been upset with him.”

She laughed heartily before falling back hard on the bed with a groan. She rolled over to view the bag of bits again.

“Thanks,” she muttered warmly. It was strange for her to laugh about the bandit like that. I really, really should have noticed that there was more on her mind than 'everything.' Just what in Equestria had that dragon done to her?

“Tell you what: I’ll take the kids back to Canterlot, and then I’ll come back and see you in a week or so.”

She rolled her head across her pillow and stared questioningly at me. Then she smiled gently.

“’Kay.”

“Don’t forget that letter.”

“I won’t, Mom.”

And I got out of there before I got another knowing reminder of what a good friend I was.

*

---

*

Dear Princess Celestia,

I’m writing this letter as both a formal request and a formal apology. I hope this does not overstep my boundaries.

First, the apology: The danger that the new recruits, Foghorn and I found ourselves in was the result of my own pigheadedness. I heard the bandits were rolling through the mountains on a supply run, and I figured a quick little ‘fear arrest’ could do some good for St. Paddocksberg and leave the recruits with some good experience. The leader being with them was something I should have considered. Though his ‘never bothering you again’ may make the endeavour a net gain, I accept any and all due punishment you throw my way.

The only plus side to everything is that the recruits, both independently and otherwise, did a spectacular job. The future is bright, as you say.

Second, the request: This trip has left me exhausted, injured, and downright confused. For me to better serve Your Highness, I am requesting a short leave of absence to gather myself again. I can stay awhile here to recover and return in due time to accept my penance.

The cider here is supposed to be excellent.

Regards,

“What are you reading?”

“Gah!”

I jumped and folded the letter up quickly. Turnpike looked up at me and curiously tilted his head.

“Something I shouldn't be,” I declared, “eyes ahead, recruit.”

He frowned and trotted away. Why was that crossed out? I stashed the letter in my saddlebag, where it came from and belonged, and did a quick headcount. Everypony was ahead of me, of course, where I could better keep an eye on them. Why was that crossed out? I took a deep breath and grinned awkwardly and with a full set of teeth at Turnpike, who was still watching me curiously. Why was-

I missed something. I retrieved the letter in a flash and unfolded it. There was an extra crease that I hadn't noticed before, and I foolishly released it.

Regards,

No, my apologies again, but I’m not done. I will not shirk the blame for this natural disaster of a field trip onto anypony else, but I am still uncomfortable with something. Once I return, if you have time for an audience, I wish to speak with you about the benefits of having Foghorn on a field mission. I have always thought him a tremendous ally and a cool head, until yesterday. He is an excellent member of the knights, and a great friend, but his talents do not lie in action, however few and far between it is we even see action these days.

He is a great horn player. Perhaps he is better suited to playing in your chorale.

Kind Regards,

Minerva

Comments

[Dark Avenger]

”Next time you see him, he’ll be short a few tee-“

“I killed him, Foghorn,” she declared, rather nonchalantly and inconsequentially. My pen stopped writing and the silence robbed the room from us. The words thrust my heart down a hole. It made me wonder how deep it had fallen compared to hers. I shook my head dumbly and spoke:

This. I am really happy this was both addressed and not dwelt on for too long.

“We still have our budget?” She asked in shock.

“Turnpike held onto it. He’s a pretty good treasurer.”

She chortled in bewilderment.

“He had a knife to his friggin’ neck.”

“Yeah, but if he lost it, you woulda been upset with him.”

Also this. You already had me sold with the previous bit, but this made it even better.

Not sure about the whole "horn player" thing at the end though. What's up with that?

[paul]

Not sure about the whole "horn player" thing at the end though. What's up with that?
+1

[Miller Minus]

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Here we go - from Stage of Discovery:

Concordia took the opportunity to have a look at their cutie marks. She saw agriculture, literature and other casual themes on the earth ponies. Foghorn had a horn – a musical horn – for his.

Perhaps she wonders why he joined the field knights in the first place.

[Miller Minus]

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