Chapter 4.1: Silver
“You know Twilight, when you promised you wouldn’t forget to bring me on your next adventure, I really thought you were just saying that to make me feel better,” Spike said. “But you actually let me come with you!”
Twilight and Spike had traveled further from Ponyville than she ever usually went, not without one of her friends on some “friendship mission” or maybe a royal assignment. But here she was, with no royal scrolls in her saddlebags or escort of guards. She wouldn’t need them this time.
They stood on the edge of the train platform, alongside a fishing village roughly the same size as Ponyville. Twilight was a little disgusted by the smell. It didn’t matter that pegasus ponies sometimes ate it, and that by extension she probably could make herself like it too now that she was an Alicorn. Her instincts weren’t going anywhere in a week, and they filled the air with death.
But a sidelong glance at Spike told her that the feeling wasn’t mutual. She could practically see the drool dribbling down his neck. This was why anywhere like this existed in the first place, even if the demand for fish was so low that just a few towns smaller than Ponyville could supply the entire nation’s needs.
“I really am sorry about how things have been going the last week or so,” Twilight said. “I had no idea how crazy everything would be once I became an Alicorn. It’s like the whole world turned upside-down. Still… kinda trying to figure it out, honestly.”
“Yeah.” Spike waved one claw, dismissively. “I get it. No dragon expects perfection. That… seems like something a dragon should say.”
“Something my number-one understanding assistant would say!” Twilight said, clasping him briefly on the shoulder and grinning. “But this should be a nice vacation from here on out. No incredible lost powers, no dark secrets hidden under our hooves. Just archeology. Like being Celestia’s apprentice all over again. Time to do some learning!”
Twilight stepped off the old wooden platform, scrunching her nose as the station began transferring refrigerated carts of fish into the place of the single passenger car. Apparently not many ponies came to Princessport. In fact, they were the only ones who had been on the train at all.
Spike leaned in close, lowering his voice to a whisper as they stepped out onto one of the cobbled streets. “Don’t you think these ponies look a bit fishy?”
She almost smacked him for the joke, but resisted the urge to be violent. That wouldn’t be terribly polite after how indulgent he’d been to her last few trips. And he hasn’t been pressuring me for secrets about what happened, either. So she settled for a glare. “Nope,” she said flatly, setting off down the main road. It wasn’t hard to find—just like Ponyville, the road into the train station was the most important in town. It was through that train that all goods and services flowed, and so all shops and places catering to visitors would be along it as well.
What she needed was something else—a museum. But she couldn’t see anything like it at a glance, or even a historical society. Just Princessport, built along a rocky coast with the single road curving several times before it reached the distant docks and the few vessels moored there.
Ponies watched her with every step. It wasn’t something new to her, for sure. Becoming an Alicorn meant that she was in the spotlight at every moment. Even in Ponyville they’d done that. But… for a second she almost thought Spike might be right. The eyes on these ponies seemed unusually large, and they didn’t seem to blink.
It’s nothing. He psyched you out, that’s all. The townsfolk were wearing more than any other village she’d visited. Loose, waterlogged robes covered almost all of them. Not only that, but she saw a fair number of wing suggestions on backs, as well as horns on heads. Despite being a full hour away from the nearest town, despite being so remote that it hadn’t even been on several maps, the tribal integration here was as progressive as Manehattan.
You’re right Spike, something’s going on here. Maybe taking him here had been a mistake after all. Regolith’s proof had been undeniable, she had it right in her pack. But he was ancient and wealthy—maybe a sliver of unobtainable metal wasn’t much to give up to get rid of her. No, don’t even start overthinking this. He had you in his lair and let you go. Ponies who live as long as Alicorns and stay in power know how to stay there. They aren’t going to waste their bits tricking me into a trap.
That still didn’t mean she was safe, even if she was right. Twilight put on her best smile, sticking out one leg in front of a young mare walking with a foal.
Well, the mare was walking. The foal was on her back in a cloth carrier, despite looking plenty old to get along on his own hooves. But she didn’t stare. “Excuse me, miss. Can I ask you a question?”
“What the outsider be wanting?” the pony asked, her breath thick with the malaise of the town. Twilight wouldn’t have been surprised if a fish jumped right out of her teeth.
Don’t puke don’t puke don’t puke, she thought desperately to herself, putting on her best smile. She’d seen Princess Celestia do this kind of thing plenty of times—you didn’t have to like a pony to act like a princess around them. “I’m looking for directions to a place for visitors,” she said, speaking clearly to make up for the pony’s accent. “Do you have any… hotels, maybe?”
“’Av an inn,” the pony stammered, shuffling away. Her hooves scraped strangely on the cobblestones as she walked past. “Down the road, another half mile. Cod’s Head. Can’t miss.” And she was gone, vanishing into the crowd with her son’s unblinking eyes watching Twilight from her back.
Spike shivered, clutching briefly at her saddlebags. “Don’t tell me you don’t think this is—”
“I’m not going to tell you anything,” she said, just loud enough to shut him up. There were dozens of ponies walking here, all in robes, all watching them. We can’t talk out in public. “Let’s go to the inn, Spike. That nice mare said it was good for visitors. Come on!” And she set off, speeding up just a little. She could tell she was walking too fast because Spike started panting, tugging on her saddlebags again.
“Maybe we don’t have to gallop there?”
“Right, sorry.” She slowed down immediately, avoiding a huge pothole filled with black slime in the road. She avoided, but Spike didn’t. He tripped on the edge, and spun forward towards who knew what.
Twilight caught him in her magic, settling him gently on the road beside her. “Not so fast, like you said,” she muttered. “Come on.”
They made it to the Cod’s Head without incident—though Twilight was sure she was seeing the same few ponies behind her.
But there was nopony there when she looked, nopony waiting just behind her as she stepped through the cracked wooden door into the Cod’s Head.
She was blasted with a wave of heat as she stepped into the cramped space, which was apparently not just for visitors. Ponies crowded around the tables off to one side, shouting and laughing and passing around jugs of ale. The smell of it nearly set Twilight’s mane on fire.
There was no reception desk with room-mail cubbies, or anything else she might’ve expected at a civilized establishment. There was a bar though, and a pony watching her expectantly from behind it.
At least she’d found one who didn’t bundle up in thick robes in the middle of spring, or stare unblinkingly. He still stared as she approached, eyeing the dragon uncertainty. “One room or two?” he asked, fishing around under the bar for keys. “You got on the wrong train. Next passenger doesn’t arrive for two days, so… here you are.”
He knows the schedule. And yet, he made no comment about her wings. Does he know there’s another princess? Does he even care? It was almost refreshing to talk to somepony who didn’t bow and scrape about it.
“One is fine, if you’ve got double-beds,” she said, fishing her money-pouch out of her saddlebags and levitating out far more bits than a hotel room would be worth. Along with a slice of clear tape, held in her magic and facing away from him. “Two nights, just in case.”
“Right,” he answered, disinterested. “Too much. Give me the twenty-piece, and five for meals. Keep the rest. Name’s Gristle, by the way. What should I put on the ledger?” He didn’t seem to have a ledger. He might be a unicorn, but he didn’t even look like he could read.
“Twilight,” she answered. “And Spike.” Maybe not using my full name will make it harder if someone is looking for me. Probably should’ve lied about my name. But what good would that do if she was keeping her wings out? She’d been on every newspaper in Equestria. Deception was impossible. “I need to ask you about something, Gristle.” She repeated the unfortunate name delicately, afraid she’d misheard. But the pony didn’t correct her.
She lowered her voice, though with the chatter gone completely silent in the Cod’s Head she wasn’t sure that would do her much good. There were no ponies right beside them at the bar, but a few were gathered a little way down. “I didn’t take a wrong turn. I’m here on archeological business, and I was hoping I might be able to ask you for directions. I’d happily pay.” I’m already eating into my savings, might as well make it a party.
Gristle only grunted in response, tossing her a rusty metal key. “Second floor, first door. Meals at sunrise and sunset, no food or drink upstairs.”
She levitated the key a little closer, but she didn’t abandon what she was saying. She turned the clear strip of tape over, exposing the sliver of Orichalcum on the reverse side so that it caught the light. The reflective red-brown metal would be obvious at first glance to anypony who knew it—and it was instantly clear to her that Gristle did.
He froze completely still, eyes laser-focused on the strip. He twitched subconsciously towards it, his magic briefly straining against hers to take it away. Twilight dispelled his grip without even thinking, as casually as she would’ve batted away a fly. His magic was so weak by comparison that she almost didn’t even notice. She pulled it back, slipping it into her money-pouch.
“I’m looking for this,” she whispered, ignoring what he’d just tried to do and keeping her voice low. Maybe she was channeling her inner Rarity, but she no longer felt afraid. I’m not trapped in this town with them, they’re trapped here with me. “I see you know what it is. So tell me where I can find it.”
Gristle went completely still, glancing down the side of the bar. She almost thought he might call for help, maybe try and raise a mob. But no—she was being irrational. Ponies didn’t attack each other! He’d probably only been curious about her sample. He stepped back, nodding politely towards the door. “Historical society. Anything about the old ruins is that way. It’s on the docks—tin building, one story. Closes at sundown. Looks like you’ve got a little daylight left if you want to try and make it back in time for supper.”
“Good.” Twilight stashed her money away, leaving all the change behind on the counter in front of Gristle. “Thank you for your directions, Gristle. Spike and I will be back for dinner.” She turned away, marching straight out of the inn before she could see how many ponies’ eyes were on her.
“You better be serious about that,” Spike said, just a little petulant. “I could smell what they were cooking. I haven’t had fish in… months.”
“We will,” she said, begrudgingly. “I think I agree with your earlier assessment, Spike. Don’t say anything.” She sped up a little, but this time made sure not to leave him behind. The docks were easy to find, and they weren’t that far away when she had already come halfway across town.
It was getting late, and that meant a little less traffic moving through town towards them. Maybe Gristle was right, and they really could get back by supper. Surely an archeologist would be normal, even in a town like this. We can find what we need and get out before anything supernatural happens.
She was still debating just carrying Spike on her back all the way to the next train junction by the time they reached the docks.
For a town that made its whole living fishing, the docks didn’t seem like they were given nearly the care they deserved. Many of the support-beams looked a little rotten, and there were thick coatings of barnacles on anything exposed to the water. The bay itself seemed black and dark, without even a swirl of activity in the gloom below. What grows out there, I can’t even imagine.
“Princessport Historical Society” had been painted on the front of the metal building in old-fashioned letters, worn so pale by the sun she could barely read them. But the sign was turned to open, and there was a little model of a stone city in the single window.
There was barely anypony on the dock with them, and the only boats she could see looked like they wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon. The one on the end looked like it had half-sunk at the dock, its mast sticking up sideways from under the waves. Yet nopony cared.
“If their big secret is that they eat ponies here,” Spike whispered, his tone just a hint sarcastic. “Promise you’ll go first.”
Twilight shoved him lightly away, then went for the door. It was time to get another ingredient for the cure.
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Ph'nglui mglw'nfah Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn
Oh, boy!
She gets to meet the Great Pink One's parents!
The town worships Pinkie, don't they?
Hello there, Howard Phillips, fancy meeting you here.
There's a Shadow over Princessport...
Well I'm sure this won't lead to anything disturbing.
You'd think she'd know better by now.
I thought this was Princessport, not Hinnysmouth.
Princess Rorschach in the village of the Deep Ones. This will be fun. Eagerly looking forward to what eldritch secrets Twilight uncovers. I half-expect her to burn this place to the ground.
9655614 9655615
Don't be silly; Pinkie's clearly descended from Yog-Sothoth. She is the Fun and the one who knows the Fun.
9655737
That's exactly what I was thinking.
I'm amused that Princessport is tribally integrated when Lovecraft himself was an immense xenophobe, to the point that a lot of the horror in his stories is racial mixing seen through a supernatural lens.
Oh hey, Spike finally got to come with. Also, I'm suddenly wondering the secret backstory this time is Spike's. After all, we don't know where his egg is from.
One of my favorite unexplored lines from the show is Spike's "we're on a break!" way back in episode one, so for the time being I'm going to interpret this as Celestia having commonly sent Twilight and Spike out on adventures before they ended up in Ponyville.
Oh no. Spike is going to turn out to be a shoggoth, isn't he?
Man, this escalated to creepy-town in a hurry.
You should probably leave being a comedian to Pinkie, Twilight.
I'm reminded of another fic, Where Parallel Lines Converge, where someone in the comments suggested that Our Town should have been named Grinnsmouth.
HI.
THIS IS INTERESTING.
Like, wow. Which of the Mane 6?
I’m guessing Pinkie....
As soon as Twilight got to the town, I knew this was going Lovecraft.
Oh boy here come the Deep Ones.
If this remains true to the original story, after all is said and done, Twilight will learn that she was one of the fishponies all along!
You go, Twilight!
Just be careful, please.
Not sure if it was the intent, but I'm getting some heavy vibes from the movie Dagon here.
Welcome to innsmouth. Please enjoy your stay in this town comprised of fish demon spawn. We hold no responsibility should any of the following happen. Mutation into fish person, death, more death, madness, creepy old men monologuing to you, fish food invasion. Thank you
What if the orichalcom sliver is exactly enough for the cure and she's doing this for no reason?
9776441
I imagine the chance to find more and a lost civilization to go with it would be more than enough incentive to keep the hunt on. Sweetie Belle isn't going to get any worse, and she's no longer on a time limit to repay an old and powerful vampire's favor either. Besides, better to have more than you need than not enough.
9656143
He stopped being racist later on his life
This chapter so far reminds me of "Call of Cthulhu"
Imma call Innsmouth reference here. Am I right?
9655984
Same.