• Published 8th Oct 2016
  • 740 Views, 21 Comments

The Regime - Wheller



Despite living in the changeling's homeland, young Carmine has never seen one in her life. She decides that she must meet a changeling, even if it's the last thing she ever does.

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Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Her father’s house played host to Ryswell and his company of traders that evening. Traders were well respected among the slave villages, and it was their duty to look after them when they were in town. All twelve of Ryswell’s company would take to sleeping on the floor in Carmine’s bedroom. Her father had offered them the beds, but Ryswell refused him. Politely thanking the old blacksmith for his offer, but their own bedrolls on a wood floor was already more comfortable than what they were used to.

Carmine sat quietly on the sofa in the main room of the house, reading one of her new books. The Earth Pony Way by Oberlander Cromwell.

She could tell it was quite old, just by the language that was used in the words. It was a novel (and she suspected, secretly a political treatise) about a cabal of Earth Ponies overthrowing the unicorn government in old Canterlot, discarding magic, for science and reason. It was quite an interesting read, even though it was a bit difficult to understand. She would have to make a note to ask Ryswell where they’d gotten it.

Almost on cue, Ryswell exited from her bedroom where he’d been prepping his company’s sleeping arrangements. He smiled at her and approached the sofa. ‘May I sit with you? Miss Bolton?’ he asked.

She nodded her head and scooted over to make room for him. He gingerly sat down on the sofa and gave her a surprised look. ‘This is quite comfortable,’ he said.

‘It is! My father traded a full set of steel woodworking tools for it with our village’s artisan, Corlyse Davenport. She built it herself using “old family secrets”, or so she said,’ she added with a chuckle. ‘I believe it.’

‘As do I,’ Ryswell said with a nod.

Carmine placed the cloth bookmarker on her page, and gently closed the book. ‘Sir, do you know anything about this book?’ she asked, holding it aloft. ‘More specifically, where it came from?’

He glanced at the book, studying it for a few moments. He put his hoof on his chin and tapped. ‘If I am not mistaken, there was once a watertight box filled with books that washed up on shore one day. It’s usually where new items for Trade come from. Things that spill over into the ocean and wash up here. It all comes here eventually and—’ he stopped and looked closer at it, having caught the name of the author on the spine, he gave her a warm smile. ‘Ahh, that one? No, my apologies my lady, I know exactly where that one came from.’

Carmine’s smile widened. ‘Where?’ she asked.

‘That particular book was stolen from the private library of the Princess Celestia of Equestria, roughly one hundred years ago, during the changeling’s raid on Canterlot,’ Ryswell said with a twinkle in his eyes.

Carmine looked on him in awe. ‘How do you know that?’

‘Well, the one who traded it to me told me,’ he said simply.

Carmine moved closer to him. ‘Who gave it to you?’ she asked.

‘Well, he doesn’t exactly have a name—"he" isn’t the right word either. It was an it,’ he said. ‘And it was a changeling.’

Carmine’s eyes widened. ‘You—you’ve seen a changeling?’ she asked in an almost gasped response.

‘Of course, this is the Changeling Regime is it not? You haven’t seen—’ Ryswell paused, and then offered her a sheepish smile. ‘Apologies, my lady. I often forget that the village folk are not as well travelled as I.’

Carmine smiled back and nodded in understanding. ‘No need to apologise Sir; but it is true, I have never seen one,’ she admitted.

‘A pity, they are a sight to behold. I have been all over the regime, seen all sorts of wonders. I have been to the capital, even. A wondrous stone castle manually carved thousands of years ago!’ he said brightly.

Thoughts began to race through Carmine’s mind, she remembered back to early this morning, her thoughts about changelings, her desire to see one. ‘Sir? On your route for Trade, will you be seeing any changelings?’

‘Perhaps,’ he said without commitment. He seemed to be almost expecting the question. Perhaps was enough for her.

‘Would you—would you take me with you?’ she asked.

‘Take you on as a member of my company? As a Trader?’ he asked back.

Carmine nodded.

A wry smile formed on Ryswell’s face. ‘I don’t know; can you do anything useful?’ he asked.

Carmine paused; she was about to say that she was an apprentice blacksmith, but something told her that wasn’t what he was looking for. After all, Ryswell already knew that. He must be looking for something else. She probed her mind for something, anything that would be of use to him on their trek.

‘I know the stars,’ she said finally. Her great-grandfather had been the Royal Astronomer in Canterlot prior to him being taken as a slave, and he had passed that information down to his son, who had passed it to her father, who had passed it to her.

‘As do we all,’ Ryswell said, looking unimpressed.

Carmine's ears drooped. Aside from blacksmithing, that was pretty much all she had to offer.

Ryswell’s smile returned. ‘Though, it can’t hurt to have another pair of eyes, alright Miss Bolton. I accept, pending your father’s permission, of course.’

Her smile shown brighter than the light of a full moon. She realised that Ryswell had just been teasing her. He’d never intended to say no. She threw her forelegs around him in a tight hug. ‘Oh thank you sir! Thank you!’ she said. This was the happiest she’d been in the longest time.

Ryswell hugged her back, holding her loosely and gently stroking her mane. ‘I just hope you’re prepared to do a lot of walking, and a lot of sleeping on hard ground,’ he added with a chuckle.

‘I’ll manage,’ she said with a smile, and planted a friendly kiss on each of Ryswell’s cheeks, before getting up to go ask her father’s permission.

‘That I think you will,’ Ryswell said quietly to himself, smiling at his own good fortune.

Carmine slipped quietly into her father’s workshop on the side of the house. He was under one of the Trader’s wagons, inspecting the metal framing for wear. Carmine smiled at her father as she watched him work for a bit.

Like her, Pershing Bolton was an earth pony. He was brown in coat; with the same carmine mane he would pass to his daughter.

‘Father?’ she asked.

Pershing attempted to sit up, only to bang his head on the underside of the wagon. ‘Ow!’ he cried out as he pulled himself out, gently rubbing his forehead with a hoof. Carmine looked mortified.

‘Oh father! I’m so sorry!’ she said as she knelt down next to him.

He gave her a gentle smile, his eyes glistening in the soft light from the forge in the corner of the workshop. ‘I’m alright, is something I can do for you, my darling?’ he asked.

Her eyes lit up and she smiled. ‘Father, I seek your permission to join the Traders on their expedition,’ she said.

Pershing blinked at her. ‘Join the Traders? Why?’ he asked.

Carmine bit her lip, unsure of how to put it to her father. She couldn’t think of a good way to really explain it to him, so she just blurted it out. ‘I want to see a changeling, Father. We’ve never seen one! Not one person in this village. Ryswell has, and he’s going to take me where they are!’

Pershing frowned at her. ‘The wilderness is dangerous, Carmine, wild animals roam the Regime. You could get seriously hurt! Even killed if you’re not careful!’

Carmine paused to consider his words, but remained firm. ‘Father, please, let me go. I’ll be careful, and Ryswell won’t let harm come to me—’

‘If he can prevent it,’ her father interrupted. ‘There is simply no guarantee that he can.’

‘Father—’

‘Explain to me why, Carmine,’ he interrupted again. ‘You say you want to see a changeling, but you want more than just the sake of seeing one. Why do you want to?’

Carmine paused, turning the question over in her head, before finally giving an answer. ‘I have a question to ask,’ she answered finally.

Pershing frowned. He knew exactly what she was referring to. ‘Your mind is set on this then?’ he asked her.

‘I must do this father, please, give me your blessing. I have to know!’ she said, getting on her knees and pleading with him.

Pershing sighed and nodded his head, knowing full well that his daughter had made up her mind, there was to be no dissuading her. ‘Very well, Carmine. I give you my permission to join the traders.’