Apropos of the Sinners

by SpitFlame

Part II – Chapter II – At Her Father's

The house of Bronze Pocket was by the outskirts of Ponyville, as previously mentioned. It was old but not decrepit: one-storied (not including the attic), painted a brownish-red, and with a grey iron roof. It was extremely spacious, very roomy. It had all sorts of closets, all sorts of nooks and unexpected little stairways. There were some rats scrambling about, but Bronze was not altogether angry with them. "It just means it's not so boring in the evenings when I'm all alone." And indeed he had the habit of dismissing the servants back to their cottages for the entire night and locking himself up in the house. Other times he'd invite two or three mares over, seducing them with his money, and have "fun" for hours on end with the servants still there. There was a particular cottage right beside Bronze's house, the one which housed Shovel Rod.

This one was solid but not very spacious. Bronze appointed the kitchen to be there, though there was a kitchen in the main house: he did not like kitchen smells, and food was carried across the yard winter and summer alike. To add, the house had been built for a large family: it could have accommodated at least a dozen ponies. But for the moment, only Bronze took residence there; two if we include Shovel Rod.

We must say a little more in particular about the auxiliary Shovel Rod. An old earth pony, he was firm and unwavering, rigid in mindset, and persistently and directly pursued his point, provided that this point stood before him as a stubborn truth. Generally speaking, he was honest and incorruptible, but awfully irrational and prone to superstition. When his wife passed away he decided immutably to move to this area of Ponyville and serve in this house, telling himself that "to atone for the loss of his beloved he must seek honour," and that "duty and honour could be found in work." But even then, all he was good for was the servant role. His cutie mark was a dirt-covered shovel. What were ponies supposed to make of that?

It was all the more strange (and ironic), because his wife had hated Bronze, and she had almost never held her tongue in criticizing him. And still, perhaps for the sake of Airglow, Shovel Rod moved into that cottage. Besides that, Shovel knew that he had an unquestionable influence over Bronze. He felt it, and was right. A cunning and obstinate buffoon, Bronze Pocket, while he had a very firm character in certain things in life, nevertheless showed, to his own surprise, a rather weak character in certain other things. And he knew which ones; he knew and was afraid of many things. Sometimes in life you must be on your guard, and that was difficult without a servant like Shovel.

There were even moments when Bronze would have been unable, perhaps, to explain this remarkable need for a close servant that he would sometimes, all of a sudden, momentarily and inconceivably, begin to feel in himself these occasions which were almost morbid: most depraved, and, in his sensuality, often as cruel as a wicked beetle. Bronze at times suddenly felt in himself, in his drunken moments, a spiritual fear, a moral shock, as if his soul were fluttering in his throat. In those moments he would be glad to have a close-to-hoof servant, one who was devoted and put up with all his depravity. It happened that Bronze would go to Shovel's cottage in the middle of the night, wake him up, have him come over, and then Bronze would begin talking about perfect trifles, and would soon let him go, oftentimes with a little joke or play-on-words, and would drink there and go to bed himself.

Something of this sort happened when confronting Airglow. That is, Airglow "pierced his heart" because he, Bronze, lived in such depravity, and yet his daughter condemned nothing. Moreover, she brought something unprecedented with her: a total lack of contempt for him, the old buffoon—and, to the contrary, a perfectly natural affection—despite the fact that he deserved none of it. This came as a surprise to the old lecher, who until then had loved only his impropriety. Even then Bronze admitted that he understood very little of it, but even so, he did not care to understand it.

I must also mention that Shovel Rod, while clearly despising Bronze's behaviour, defended his second wife, Petal Breeze, against Bronze himself and against all who would chance to speak a flippant word about her. His sympathy for the unfortunate mare became almost sacred to him, so that even many years later after her death he would not tolerate the slightest of badmouthing about her from anypony at all, and would at once object to the offender. On the inside Shovel was a pompous and taciturn stallion, delivering himself with non-frivolous and simple words. It was remarkable with how little he spoke, making it difficult to know if he liked you or not. But he truly did like Airglow most of all, for whom he had been the caretaker. He hated Nova, and disliked (but not quite hated) Cluster.

But now I've realized the lengths to which I have gone to portray a character as minor as Shovel Rod. My apologies.

To return to the present morning, Airglow had honoured her father's request and went to his house first thing in the morning. As she was nearing the house, she remembered how Bronze had insisted very much the day before to come sooner rather than later.

"I wonder why?" she asked herself. "I guess dad wants to tell me something, maybe in secret. I dunno. He must have meant to word it differently, but he was so excited yesterday that he couldn't manage it," she decided. Nevertheless she was very glad when Shovel Rod, who opened the gate for her, in answer to her question, informed Airglow that Bronze was in the living room.

"But he's acting in his usual ways," answered Shovel somehow dryly and mysteriously, and right after he withdrew inside. Airglow foolishly thought nothing of it and followed him.

She came into the foyer, which was the largest room in the house. By the main table there was a stack of debit and credit accounts, previously scrambled through the night before, as well as an empty plate and a mug half-filled with coffee. At least half the chairs were pushed significantly backwards, with one even tipped over. Despite there seemingly being nopony present, it was not silent.

A cacophony of laughter, squeaking of a bed, and drunken remarks and curses were ringing from another room down the hall. One wild and malicious voice was unmistakable: Bronze's shrieking reached everywhere in the house. Drowning along his voice Airglow could not recognize the guffawing reproaches of two or three mares. The laughter and senseless noise continued for some time. Airglow stood by the door, feeling unbelievably awkward and weak-kneed.

At last she made out Shovel's bark. "Oi, Mr. Pocket! Mr. Pocket!"

It took a few attempts before Bronze wailed back, "Eh! W-what is it?" The sound of the mares died down significantly.

"Airglow is here," replied Shovel venomously.

"Who!"

"Airglow, your daughter!" And, cursing under his breath, he left the room.

For nearly a minute everything was silent, then Bronze, sounding more wicked and irritated now, said, "Okay, okay. You two can leave." A few giggles responded, then he said again, "What? No. Go grab your stuff, I don't care. Go, for Celestia's sake. Ech!"

Another half minute and two mares of distinct appearance, their faces lightly puffed up with makeup, came out the room, still smirking, and walked by Airglow without even acknowledging her. Airglow could not even will herself to look up as they passed by, so uncomfortable she felt.

Finally Bronze came into the foyer, donning a silk robe. There were almost unnoticeable red smears alongside his cheeks. The old stallion was aware of this himself—and, naturally, aware of all that had just transpired, including the interruption—and upon sitting down he shot Airglow an unfriendly and decidedly irritated glance.

"The coffee's cold," he cried sharply, sipping the mug. "I'm not offering you any. Today I had a nice piece of toast, but nopony is getting anything. Why are you here?"

"You asked me to come," said Airglow.

"Oh right, yesterday I told you to visit me. Pah! It's all nonsense. You've troubled yourself for nothing. I knew you'd drag yourself here first thing if I told you."

He spoke with the most unwelcoming and hostile feeling. Meanwhile he changed seats, sitting in front of the accounts, shifting through them as if for diversion.

"Everypony is cheaper than a beggar," he observed sententiously. "So, what's with you?"

"I'm worried about my brothers, and about you," said Airglow in a low voice, but her father didn't hear her.

"Cluster upbraids me every moment with being delirious," he said suddenly. "He's doing his best to win over Nova's financial situation against me," he added spitefully, and, twisting his mouth, he looked at Airglow.

"Did he tell you that himself?" asked Airglow in profound surprise, taking a seat next to Bronze.

"Yes. I mean, no, I can read it in him; a father knows how to read his son, and Cluster's no different than a pup in my eyes. What else is he coming here for? Pah! I tell you, Cluster wants me dead just as much as Nova does, but he won't admit to it."

"What? Dad, how can you say that?" Airglow was terribly dismayed.

"Your brother Nova is a scoundrel, and he won't get a fig out of me. Let it be known that he signed that contract, and so he missed the assigned date due to pick up his remaining five thousand. I need that money more than anypony, more than the poor." As he continued he began pacing the room back and forth. "I want to live for a long, long time, as long as Princess Celestia if I could. But unlike Princess Celestia, eventually I'll get unbearably old and disgusting, and then they won't come to me by their own choice, and that's why I'll need my dear money, all of it, every bit. So now I'm saving up more and more, for myself alone and nopony else, do you hear? So don't ask me for anything, because I won't give it. And now Nova comes along, demanding the five thousand that I, legally, don't owe him. It's unjust, I tell you! How can a pony treat his father so cruelly! Cluster, too. Ech! Cluster is extremely intelligent, but he's a scoundrel just like Nova. He's silent, and he stares coldly at you in silence—that's how he gets by."

Airglow listened to him in silence, too ill at heart to say anything.

"And even with Cluster," cried Bronze again, "oh, Cluster hardly even speaks to me. But, you see, Nova asked him to act as a mediator between this financial dispute that I've been tangled up in. Tomorrow morning they'll come, and Cluster will judge. To tartarus with Cluster! That's just what I'm afraid of, and Cluster's keeping an eye on me to see that I don't keep what's rightfully mine. He's a scoundrel, your Cluster!"

"You're very irritable; maybe it's because of whatever happened yesterday," observed Airglow. "Why don't you go and lie down?"

"Heh, it's funny how you say that," Bronze suddenly remarked, as if it had just entered his head for the first time, "you say that, and it doesn't make me explode, but if anypony else said the same thing I'd get so very angry. With you I have moments of peace and kindness, otherwise I'm a plain evil pony."

"You're not evil," said Airglow, smiling in earnest at him.

"But listen, I truly meant everything I said. From the bottom of my soul, I meant everything. Nova won't get a bit from me. Like I give a damn what he's going through; all the better, he needs to be taught a lesson. In the past he would come to me, frequently, insolently borrowing money from me but never paying it back." And acting on those words, as if in a fit of anger, he raced to the other end of the room, opened a cabinet, and pulled out at least a dozen old papers. "Look, these are all cursed promissory notes. Look how much Nova owes to me. Look, look! But he has the gall to demand another five grand?"

"But don't you technically still owe him five thousand, and he just missed the date to collect it?"

"That's pure conjecture!"

"But isn't it from his mom's dowry?" she added calmly.

"Lies!" cried Bronze, throwing the promissory notes to the floor in angry discourse. Ungovernable rage was ablaze on his face and flashing eyes. "That's what both your brothers tell me! They're liars! I can’t believe I’ve raised two liars, I’ve harboured two liars in my house! Celestia is laughing at me, spiteful Celestia! She read my vanity, and I've been sent two horrible sons! A death sentence! I've been given a death sentence, because I'm going to die from shame!"

Airglow nearly jumped back at the sudden outburst, but she maintained her composure and looked as if to be in contemplation.

Bronze paced the room quicker than before; eventually the colour returned to his pale face. He gave a long sigh and made his way back to the table.

"Say, how about a little brandy?" he said. "Have some cold coffee and I'll put in a little bit of brandy. It improves the taste, my dear."

"No thanks, I'm not in the mood for anything," replied Airglow at once. "And you'd better not have any brandy either, it's not good for you," she advised with caution, looking intently into the old stallion's twisted face.

"Pah! True enough, I suppose; the truth hurts. Still, still, a single shot won't hurt anypony."

He got up once more and went to a cupboard, opened it, poured himself a glass, drank it off in a single toss, then locked the cupboard and returned to the table.

"Ech! So, that's enough for me, my last one."

"Do you feel alright now?"

"Hmm. I'm well off, there's no worry there. But listen, listen—I've asked Cluster to help me with my woodlot, I've asked him to go to Appleloosa to take care of it for me. But he won't go. Why? Is he spying on me? Is Cluster the dangerous one? Pah! They're all scoundrels. I refuse to acknowledge Cluster. He's not our kind at all. Why should I leave him anything? I won't even leave a will, so forget it! And with Nova I'll crush him like a cockroach. I squash black roaches at night in my slippers: they make a funny little 'pop' noise when you step on them. And your Nova will make the same 'pop,' too. Your Nova, because you love him for some reason. But that's okay, dear. I don't care who you love. If Cluster loved him that'd be a whole different story; I'd fear for myself then. But Cluster loves nopony, thank Celestia for that. Cluster's a puff of dust and nothing more. The wind blows and the dust vanishes. But anyway, anyway... do your old stallion a favour, eh? Go see Cluster when you can, ask him about my woodlot, and why he won't go."

"I... I'll ask him," Airglow murmured.

"No, forget it. I changed my mind. He's dead-set in his ways, and there's no changing it. He wouldn't help me in order to save Equestria. It was yesterday that such foolishness crept into my noodle." Bronze began waving his arms around in emphasis. "Did you know that Nova brags about killing me? Right in the taverns for all to hear, too! He really wants to murder his own father just for five grand. And he's serious, you know. Don't think that fool is kidding around. Ha! I'll make mud out of him!"

With these last words he flew into a rage again.

"And you can go, too, there's nothing for you here," he snapped feverishly.

Airglow strode over to him and kissed him on the forehead.

"What are you doing?" Bronze became slightly astonished.

"Uh, nothing. Just kissing you goodbye."

"And me, too, I'll do the same!" he cried, and leaning in he kissed her on the forehead. "Listen," he called out as she was leaving, "come tomorrow morning, at eleven o'clock, that's the scheduled time! It won't be special without you. You have to come!"

And right when Airglow left he stepped away from the table, to the cupboard, and drank another glass of brandy.