Down to Brass Tacks
Down to Brass Tacks
by Present Perfect
"Explain to me again this... 'friendship quest'. What is it we're supposed to do?"
Twilight gave Tempest a searching look. Her Captain held her usual stoic demeanor, even while focused on her bowl of breakfast oats.
"When your cutie mark starts glowing," said Twilight, "that means the Cutie Map has summoned you to solve a friendship problem. Normally, we would look at the map in my castle to find out where to go, but my friends confirmed our problem is somewhere here in Canterlot. Convenient!" Twilight smiled. "So once we find two ponies who are in need of having their friendship repaired, we help them out, and another set of glowing cutie marks means we're done! Finding the problem is usually the hard part, but in my experience, things tend to fall into place afterward."
Tempest was quiet for a few moments, tapping her breakfast spoon against her bowl.
"Forgive me for asking, but what would happen if we simply went back to Ponyville and ignored the quest?"
To Twilight's analytical side, the question was valid, if strange. The strange part of course was that she herself had never asked the question in the first place. What would happen if a friendship quest was ignored? Beyond the obvious, that was.
Would she be punished after a certain period of time had passed? Well, none of her friends had ever taken more than a day from being summoned to finish a friendship quest, so that was unlikely. Unless the time period was forgiving, she would have no way to find out.
Would the Cutie Map continually summon her and Tempest, making their cutie marks glow more and more frequently until they finally gave in? Well, it hadn't done anything to them that morning. Perhaps because their minds were still on the task? It was impossible to know.
Would having this one friendship quest 'active' preclude others from ever being summoned? Could apathy on the part of the wrong two ponies destroy friendship as Equestria knew it?
There were so many variables, so many possibilities. There was no way to discover anything concrete. The well of primordial, soul-rending panic that dwelt deep inside Twilight lurched, screaming, into her veins.
She must have been contemplating the question for a while, because Tempest said, "Your Highness?"
So she gave the only logical response she could.
"The ponies won't be able to solve their problem." She put on her teaching face. "Obviously, ponies have problems with their friendships all the time. It's part of life! The Cutie Map only calls us when those problems can't be resolved by the ponies in question. If we dawdle, well, those ponies will just have to suffer that much longer. So it's better if we don't wait longer than necessary."
From Tempest's raised eyebrow and lowered gaze, Twilight had to assume she'd never considered the possibility.
"I don't understand," said Rarity as Sassy Saddles trotted back and forth in Canterlot Carousel. "How could the order not have been placed yet?"
"Rococo and ribbons, Rarity," said Sassy, setting a shelf of fabrics in order and checking off something on a clipboard. "I am sorry, truly I am, but I never should have promised the armor to you in the first place." She made a frustrated noise in the back of her throat. "If it isn't too much to put forward, my relationship with my brother has been breaking down over the past few months, and now we are simply no longer on speaking terms."
"Forgive me for asking," said Twilight, who had been inspecting a rack of dresses at the far end of the shop, "but what's your brother's involvement with our armor order?"
Sassy sighed. "Brass Battles is a Royal Guard," she said, "and more importantly, he works for the Royal Armory. When Miss Rarity asked if I could arrange to have a custom suit of armor made, I didn't even consider before saying 'yes'. And now just look at the pickle you're in!" She ground her teeth. "Ooh, buttons and bobbins, but there is no way I'll apologize to him first! I'd rather eat a roll of crinoline!"
Rarity turned a dismayed frown to Twilight. "I'm ever so sorry, Twilight. Sassy was my contact with the Royal Armory. It seems poor Tempest may be out a suit of new armor."
Twilight tapped her chin until an idea hit her, and her face lit with a smile that surprised both fashionistas.
"Nevermind the armor, Rarity," she said. "After all, solving a friendship problem is a lot more important!"
"Oh," said Rarity. "Oh goodness, are you sure?"
Sassy looked between the two of them, completely confused.
Tempest Shadow heaved the slab of stone onto the cart, then tapped on the back of it. As the Storm Guard hauled it away to the quarry, the other Guards grunted and grumbled in their version of a hearty cheer. Wiping the sweat from her brow, she smiled at them.
With no armor in sight and nothing to do while this 'friendship problem' hung over her head, Tempest had decided that helping her former minions with their repair duties would be the best way to spend her morning. And if it helped her feel a little more forgiving toward herself, then so much the better.
"Bravo, well done!" cried an enthusiastic voice behind her. She turned to see a lanky unicorn Guard stomping light applause on the marble.
"These gents were miracle workers already," said the stallion, "but watching you lift all that heavy stone yourself? Barding and badges, honey, you are a sight!"
Tempest already did not like this pony. Narrowing her eyes at him, she said, "You are...?"
"Brass Battles," he said, removing his helmet and extending a hoof. "But you can call me Brassy, everypony does."
Once the helmet off, his armor's enchantment broke, revealing him to be light turquoise, with an orange-and-yellow mane cropped short in a military cut. His horn was rather long for a unicorn, and with his long, lithe legs, he stood nearly eye-to-eye with Tempest.
She shook his hoof warily. "Tempest Shadow. Are you the Guard in charge of overseeing this crew?"
"I am indeed!" He stepped back and let out a shrill whistle, the Storm Guards forming into a line in front of him. "Now, gentlecolts, your attention please! The Princess has been kind enough to arrange a train to take you back home. Go back to your rooms and gather your things. Make sure you don't forget anything! Meet me at the palace gates in one hour. Listen for the clock to strike this many, okay?" He thumped his right rear hoof on the marble ten times, and one or two of the Guards nodded.
Tempest waited until the Guards had filed out before addressing the stallion again.
"You must be Celestia's yeti interpreter," she said, voice cagey.
To her surprise, the stallion actually rubbed the back of his head and blushed.
"Ohh, well... I don't do much." He gave a nervous chuckle. "It's not so much interpreting as... just understanding other ponies. Or creatures I guess. Everypony's got the same needs, right? Companionship and love and all that, I mean. You just hafta... reach out to their heart and listen to what's there."
Tempest raised an eyebrow. "Flowery words for a Royal Guard."
Brassy swallowed and gave a nervous giggle. "Well, maybe don't tell the other Guards, but I might write poetry in my spare time."
"I never would have guessed." Snorting, she moved to the nearby window, Brassy following, and looked out onto the bustling courtyard. The Storm Guards were happily mobbing their way to whatever barracks housed them. "Why tell me?"
He took a deep breath. "I beg your pardon if I'm presuming too much, but I figure there's no pony more trustworthy than one who's really trying to turn her life around from a, shall we say, less than agreeable past?"
She glowered at him but said nothing, and he shrank away from her, just a little. She couldn't fault his faith, however. They'd only just met, and here he was, sharing dark secrets? Perhaps she radiated some kind of invisible trustworthiness now that she was set on turning over a new leaf. She gave a half chuckle.
"Well, if it makes you feel any better, your technique for talking to the Storm Guards isn't too much different than my own." She turned her gaze back to the window, hiding a smile. "I used to command them, you know. If I can... tell you a secret of my own?"
"Go ahead!" He sounded most enthused.
"Half the time, I couldn't understand what they were saying, either, so I'd just pretend I did. Sometimes I'd get mad at them for no reason. Kept them on their toes."
He snickered. "That sounds like a good decision."
"It's the sort of thing a commander learns on the fly." Turning back to him, she leaned against the windowsill. "As a Guard Captain now, though... Well, I suppose there will be new challenges to learn as I go."
"A Captain? Well, forgive me for not saluting earlier, ma'am." His hoof shot to his brow, but she waved it off.
"At ease."
His smile returned. "Makes me wish everypony were that easy to deal with sometimes."
A tiny something in the back of Tempest's mind gave her a little poke and whispered Friendship quest! in her ear.
"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow and cocked her head. "Not getting along with someone, are you?"
"Arms and armors, I should say not!" He snorted and jammed his helmet back onto his head, the color draining from his coat and mane. "My bratty twin sister is absolutely the worst pony in Equestria. So rude. So pushy!"
She did her best to hide a smirk. "Do tell."
"Brassy and I only recently reconnected, Your Highness," Sassy explained as they sat in Canterlot Carousel's backroom.
"Oh goodness!" Rarity's hoof flew to her mouth. "Were you estranged?"
"Not exactly." Sassy let out a sigh. "You see, we're fraternal twins, but Brassy was born sickly. My parents couldn't afford his medical treatments, so he was adopted by a well-to-do family who could. So we didn't grow up together, and after his new family moved to Manehattan to continue the treatments, we lost touch."
"Because of that," Brassy continued, "we grew up in... very different worlds, you could say."
He let out a sigh, leaning against the edge of the pillar. They had walked out to some royal garden or other, with white marble columns everywhere the eye could see.
"I followed my family's hoofsteps and went into the Guard, while she's..." He made a face. "A manager at a fashion closet. I mean, I like fashion as much as anypony, but manager? When she could own the place?"
"And like some Guards, he's pushy and inconsiderate, and frankly, I could care less if he was related to me right now."
Sassy tossed her mane, holding her nose primly upward. "The fact is, we were supposed to be getting together for the three-year anniversary of when we reconnected..." Her face fell, her ears drooped, and she dug at the carpeting with a hooftip. "And I'd really been looking forward to it, too. I'd hoped it would mend the rift that's been forming between us over the last year or so."
Rarity and Twilight shared a look. It was Twilight who placed a hoof gently on Sassy's shoulder and asked, "What happened?"
She sighed. "Does it even matter?"
"I mean, she had an entire storefront grand opening, followed by a going out of business sale, followed by a grand reopening, and she never even thought to invite me?"
Tempest lay on her back on a bench, watching as Brassy marched up and down the hedgerow, gesticulating wildly as he ranted.
"Maybe she knew you weren't that interested in her business."
"I mean, she could have at least asked. We're family, for pony's sake." He snorted and stomped a hoof hard enough to make his armor rattle. "And it was the fifth boutique that year, no less. Can you believe it? That mare, I swear, I just don't understand what gets into her!"
Tempest rolled her eyes. "I'm sure I know what you mean."
"And the next day, he comes down to congratulate me for 'finally holding down a job'! Can you imagine the nerve? Condescending to your own sister like that!"
Rarity cradled Sassy's head in her forelegs while the other mare sobbed. Twilight tried not to stare at the mascara running down her face.
"I'm sure he meant well," she said, though it sounded rather lame to her own ears afterward.
Sassy blew her nose on a silk square and sniffled. "Well, I don't care. Darning and denim, I hope I never see that... that lout! That cad ever again!"
As she went back to her enthusiastic boo-hoo-hooing, Rarity and Twilight exchanged a sympathetic look.
"Well, Sassy," said Twilight, "let me go talk to your brother. Maybe I can get him to apologize, and then we can see about getting you both to re-reconnect!"
Sassy moaned something about linens, lace and apologies not being enough.
Brassy removed his helmet once more and rubbed at his eyes. "Sorry for dumping all my baggage on you, Captain. But, brigades and battlements, I do feel a fair sight better!"
"Think nothing of it."
Brassy gave a high-pitched laugh.
By all the moon's cold radiance, she thought, he's actually tittering.
"As it so happens," she said, "I know someone who might just be able to give you and your sister some help in mending your relationship."
"Oh, well..." He frowned ever so slightly, putting his helmet back on. "I don't mean to be a burden, now. Just, y'know, venting helps the old emotional constitution and all that."
What would Princess Twilight do?
Tempest slipped off her bench and threw a leg around Brassy's withers.
"All right, soldier, we'll have none of that talk," she said in as serious and non-shouting a tone as she could muster. "It's obvious this rift is hurting you, and it's probably hurting her, too. If I've got the power to help, then I'll do everything I can."
Did she really mean this?
He looked up to her, eyes sparkling.
Her snout wrinkled.
"After all, it's what... egh, friends do."
Twilight and Tempest all but literally ran into each in the middle of the large plaza in front of the Palace. A grand marble fountain depicting ponies from all three tribes spraying water beneath a rearing alicorn drowned out all but the loudest shouts at a distance. So it was perhaps no surprise that they simultaneously cried, "I think I found our friendship problem!"
Laughing, Twilight said, "A friend of Rarity's is having trouble relating to her brother. She wants them to reconnect, but she's completely at her wit's end!"
Tempest raised a skeptical eyebrow. "This brother wouldn't happen to be a Royal Guard named Brass Battles, would he?"
Twilight's mouth made an O. "You met him? That's fantastic! I was going to try and find him myself to hear his side of the problem."
"I can fill you in on what he told me." Tempest shifted on her hooves. "Though I cannot help being concerned by this coincidence. There are how many ponies in Canterlot, and the two of us just happened to run into the pair who most needs our help?"
Twilight scoffed and waved a hoof. "Cutie marks, Tempest!" At Tempest's repeated eyebrow, she said, "Look, I know you're new to them, so here's the most important thing to remember. Cutie marks are about destiny. And the Cutie Map, which uses our cutie marks to tell us about friendship problems, very likely has some ability to manipulate destiny in the name of maintaining harmony!"
"Wait, 'very likely'?" Tempest's eyes went wide. "Are you saying you don't know for certain? I may not have known you for long, but that doesn't seem very like you."
"Pssh." Twilight shrugged. "I learned a long time ago that there are some things it's not worth understanding the full details of. Besides, now we've got our friendship quest! It's far more important we turn our attentions to that!"
She pointed behind herself with a wing. "You go talk to Sassy Saddles, see if you can't get to the root of the problem, and I'll interview her brother. She's in Canterlot Carousel, it's right that way and you can't miss it. Good luck, Tempest!"
And with that, she pranced off to the castle, leaving a bewildered Tempest alone in the plaza.
"Welcome to Canterlot Carousel! How may I help you?"
Tempest winced at the bubbly, strident voice. The mare who'd greeted her hadn't even looked at her yet, which meant in just a moment, when she turned around...
"Oh my goodness!"
The tall unicorn, sky-blue coat accented by her red and orange mane and mauve skirt, backed away from Tempest until her rear end hit a shelf. A pair of fabric rolls were knocked loose, thumping softly to the floor behind her.
"Are you Sassy Saddles?" She didn't really have to ask, the mare was obviously a perfect match for Brassy's coloration, but it seemed the polite thing to do.
"Yes?" squeaked Sassy.
"My name is Tempest. I'm here to help with your..." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Friendship problem."
"Oh." Sassy relaxed, just a little bit, holding her clipboard before her as though it was any sort of shield. "You're with Princess Twilight?"
Tempest could not stop herself from rolling her eyes. "Yes."
"Tremulous toile!" cried Sassy. "Oh, I am so sorry, you... you scared me! And I've behaved so unprofessionally. Could I perhaps find you a dress to make up for it?"
The mare scooted back into the shelf at Tempest's glare. "I don't do dresses. Just friendship problems."
"W-well, now I absolutely insist that you let me find you something to wear. Perhaps a tasteful suit? I could fit you while we... discuss my problem?"
Tempest's had to choke back a reflexive 'no'. If it would get her closer to the end of this ridiculous quest, Tempest could put up with it.
"Fine."
She was whisked via magic to a raised platform surrounded by mirrors. A suit was held up to Tempest's front and discarded before she could get a word in edgewise. Sassy needed little prompting to spill her side of the problem, showing Tempest outfit after outfit and hardly pausing for breath.
"So no," she concluded, "I did not invite him to Canterlot Carousel's grand opening, because I knew he wouldn't appreciate it."
"Mm." Tempest couldn't help admitting that what Sassy had saddled her with at the moment suited her well. Clean lines, no ornaments; she might actually consider wearing this out of the store! "He told me he likes fashion, though. Why snub you?"
Sassy rolled her eyes. "It's not the fashion, so much, as... Well, you see, he's never had to work for anything in his life. His family babied him because he was so frail as a colt, and since they're military, he was a horseshoe-in for the Guard.
"Meanwhile, I've spent my life busting my flank. Trying to get a good education, getting into the fashion industry when I was only a mediocre designer at best, working my way through failed boutique after failed boutique until Miss Rarity deigned to give me a cha--" She cut off with a hiccuped sob. "I-I'm sorry. Mother and I didn't have much, growing up, while Brassy got everything. He just doesn't understand how much that is. It's upsetting sometimes."
Something deep within Tempest stirred. Memories flashed through her: jealousy because another foal getting a shiny toy for their birthday when she got wooden ones; dread at the fateful ball disappearing into the cave, not because it might be lost but because she wouldn't be able to replace it. Unwitting, she laid a hoof softly against Sassy's withers. The other mare looked at her, shocked.
"He may not understand," said Tempest, "but I do."
"Nice suit!"
Twilight goggled openly as Tempest joined her in the palace garden, wearing a navy blue one-piece suit with golden trim. Around them, royal staff set up decorations, laid out furniture, or placed bowls and plates of food.
"Sassy Saddles gave it to me," Tempest said. "What's all this?"
Twilight beamed at her. "I'm throwing a Canterlot Garden Party! I can totally do that, you know, princess and all!" Her giggle ended on a snort. "Brassy told me he's tired of her not inviting him to events. I, of course, don't believe for a second that's the root of their problems, but I figure an invitation written in her name will be just the excuse to get them together. They can apologize, and we can sort out the real reason for their rift once they start talking to each other again!"
Tempest took another look around the garden. Everywhere were topiaries sculpted to look like ponies, large animals, and pieces of fruit. The silver platters held tiny sandwiches, miniature crackers with dollops of cheese, and microscopic fruit salads. The cake looked more like a work of art than a confection. There would be punch.
"She's going to hate it," Tempest said flatly.
Twilight's ears fell. "Wait, what?"
"This." Tempest waved her hoof at the goings-on. "It's too upper class. She's not even the one sending the invitation. You should stop before this backfires."
She got a strange look from Twilight. "Since when were you and Sassy Saddles best buddies?"
"Since I talked to her and listened to what she had to say." Tempest raised a dangerous eyebrow, clamping down on the head of steam that she was building. "Your Highness, I have some ideas of my own to pursue, but they may take time."
"Pfft." Twilight waved her hoof. "Go for it! Any extra info we can gather will help us solve this problem. You go do whatever it is you decided to do, but I'm not calling off this party. Just you watch, I'll get our problematic pony pals talking all right!"
Casting one last glance at the decorations, Tempest sighed and scuffed her hoof on the ground. "Well, I can't argue that getting them to talk will be a good first step. I just don't think this is the best way to go about it."
"Come on, Tempest," Twilight said, laying a hoof against her chest, "I've done friendship problems before. You can trust that I know what I'm doing, okay?"
Tempest scowled. "Just so long as you can trust me."
At the large, opulent hall on Canterlot's east side, Tempest met Brassy's father, Bugler Battles, and his mother, Browallia, middle-aged unicorns in luxurious attire who possessed that archetypal Canterlot nose-in-the-air snideness.
She immediately decided she didn't like them. They in turn were dutifully impressed by her 'official' Friendship Guard badge and didn't notice just how haphazardly designed it was. It had been a last minute kind of thing.
They ushered her in for tea and biscuits, because of course a Captain of the Royal Guard -- "Was that 'Friendship Guard' you'd said?" -- was a guest of great importance. They told Tempest all about the hallways Bugler had guarded in his day, how they were the very same hallways his son was guarding now and, oh, wasn't it marvelous that he worked in the Royal Armory as well, what a splendid boy!
Browallia nimbly dodged more personal questions.
Tempest had to draw strength from her princess's name to endure their folderol for what she deemed an appropriate amount of time. Luckily for her, the meeting was broken up by the appearance of a grey pegasus mare, her eyes clouded milk-white and her frame so thin it was a wonder her legs could propel it. Indeed, her rear left dragged a bit with every other step, but that didn't seem to slow her down, as she evaded the butler trying to usher her back upstairs and ignored Bugler's cry of, "Oh, grandmama, you really shouldn't be out of bed in your condition!"
Fie to that! the mare, Battlefront, had said.
She nipped at her grandchildren's heels -- quite literally -- until they felt the need to excuse themselves, and won't you show Captain Tempest out, Jarlsberg? Before Tempest left, though, the old mare took her by the withers with a hoof whose thin power whispered of the steam engine she must have been in her prime.
Battlefront's eyes somehow held Tempest's through the cataracts. She knew Tempest's look, she said, they were both alike, both military ponies. That's what had drawn the old mare to her. She spoke with such gravity, such depth of ageless wisdom, that Tempest found herself unwittingly etching every word into her memory.
"The thing about being military is you have a duty. Sometimes, a pony forgets where her duty lies."
With that, Tempest was shown out by Jarlsberg, the Battles' other butler. She wasn't going to complain; she was too busy with Battlefront's words bouncing around in her skull.
On the south side of Canterlot, near the bottom of the mountain city, Tempest Shadow met Sassy's mother Rosette, a frumpy, aging earth pony less impressed by the Guard badge and more afraid Tempest had come to shake her down.
She lived in one of the few actual houses on her street, a bit large for one pony, but with solid foundations and no leaks in the roof. Most of the district, where many of the city's working earth ponies lived, was cramped apartments or tumble-down shacks. She could never have afforded it if her daughter didn't send home money every month.
Tempest learned all of this over tea, once the mare's trembling had stopped. The tea was more watery than what the Battles had served her. There were no biscuits.
Tempest had never found herself connecting so easily with another pony.
Ms. Rosette -- "I dropped the 'Mrs.' after my husband passed away." -- was retired, living off a small pension from die-punching, and all too happy to expound on her daughter's many accomplishments. When Tempest mentioned her failures, Rosette simply waved a hoof and replied,
"What she does now is what defines her."
She was less keen to speak about her estranged son, though Tempest got the feeling it was not so much because she didn't want to and more that she simply had nothing to say. She wouldn't have even known he was in the city if not for Sassy's efforts. But Rosette volunteered most days at a local shelter for ponies down on their luck -- "After all, I have so much to give" -- and so she felt her life was complete, despite her son's absence. He hadn't been a part of it for years, so why should she miss him now?
The root of the problem suddenly became clear.
Tempest made her goodbyes, and Rosette bade her return whenever she felt like it. As thanks for the hospitality, Tempest mended the house's front steps, which had crumbled slightly under her weight as she entered. Rosette hadn't mentioned them while giving her the tour, and so she would not mention how they got repaired. She thought Princess Twilight would approve.
Now Tempest could only hope Twilight's garden party had gone as planned.
"The garden party didn't go anything like I planned!"
Tempest stared, feeling awkward as Twilight wept into her donuts.
They had come to Donut Joe's at Twilight's behest, to unwind after her disastrous party and all of Tempest's interviewing work. The proprietor had greeted Twilight as one would an old friend, and offered Tempest a genuine smile and nod of respect.
She supposed she had to like him, then. He was about the only pony in this city, or at least its upper echelons, who hadn't cowered at the very sight of her. Even if she wasn't much of a sweets enthusiast, she could see herself coming here again. Someday. Maybe.
"I mean, I got at least two marriage proposals," Twilight continued into the eclair. "I'm pretty sure I invested in somepony's factory. I might have become a trustee for a fund of some kind?" She lifted her head, displaying a chocolate icing beard and moustache. Her lip wibbled for a moment before the waterworks started again.
"I don't even knoooow!" she wailed. "All I know is that Sassy and Brassy started sniping at each other, and then they started yelling, and then they said they never wanted to talk to each other ever agaaaaain!"
Down went her face back onto the plate. Tempest gave the shop owner a desperate look. He responded with an expression that said, I feel for ya, but I ain't gettin' involved.
"Your Highness," Tempest said, doing everything in her power not to say 'I told you so', "if I may, I believe I have a solution to the problem."
Twilight shot bolt upright in her chair. It even rocked a little with the force. "Tell me!" she shouted, voice hoarse.
The urge to say 'I told you so' rose.
Sassy Saddles and Brassy Battles stood at opposite ends of the castle courtyard, facing away from one another. It had been an effort and a half to even get them into the same area, and neither Tempest nor Twilight had any illusions that they would speak to each other without prompting. Twilight regarded Tempest with worry.
"I hope this works," she said softly.
Tempest's eyes narrowed. "It will."
She cleared her throat and let out a piercing whistle. Both twins turned to look at her, shock written across their faces.
"Sassy, Brassy, I am going to make this very simple." Tempest's eyes shifted from one sibling to the other. "Today, I spoke with both your families. I understand where you both come from. Your worlds are very different, but right now, the two of you have a chance to put all of that behind you and be sister and brother."
She turned to Brassy and said, very clearly, "You have to remember where your duty lies."
Turning to Sassy, she said with equal gravitas, "What you have done is not what defines you."
The result was instant. Each twin's face fell. Their eyes grew round and wet. They each took a tentative toward their sibling, then another, and another.
"Bells and baubles, Brassy, I'm sorry I didn't invite you to the boutique opening," Sassy said, her voice soft. "I told myself you wouldn't care about the boutique, but it was really just an excuse to snub you."
"Ensigns and epaulettes, I'm sorry for all the things I've said about your business," Brassy replied, eyes lowered. "If I'm being honest, I'm really proud of you for overcoming as much adversity as you have."
Sassy moved toward him. "Do you... want to get a do-over on our three-year connectiversary? I know a wonderful little donut store that's open all hours."
"Would I?" He took his helmet off, scrubbing over his eyes. He laughed. "Let's be a family again, sis."
She smiled at him. "Let's."
As the twins embraced, Tempest felt a soft, warm tingle in her hindquarters. She looked back to see both her cutie mark and Twilight's radiating a glow that pulsed in time to the sensation. It was strange, yes, but also pleasant.
Twilight looked to her, eyes wide. "Tempest, you did it. You did it!"
She wrapped her arms around Tempest's neck in a tight hug. Tempest only flinched a little.
When Twilight released her grip, she asked, "But how did you do it?"
Tempest gazed across the courtyard, where Sassy and Brassy walked, arm in arm, laughing to each other. She couldn't help but smile just a little.
"It wasn't easy. But it was simple." She looked down at Twilight, who was gazing at her in wonder.
"All I did was listen."
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That cover image...
Perfection.
I don't know whether to laugh or groan. The fact that they weren't even raised in the same home, implying that this is genetic... (or at least endemic to Canterlot.)
"It just works, Tempest. Poking into how just drops anvils on you."
"Are these anvils metaphorical, Your Highness?"
"I wish."
Yes.
Ahem. In any case, excellently done friendship problem. I should give this sort of plot a try; don't believe I ever have. I can see why you spun this off of the main story, but it was still a great read. Thanks for not letting it stay a noodle incident.
Did like the last thought. That simple and easy are not the same.
Alternators and actuators, what a fine story. Especially with
SexySassy Saddles' backstory...gotta say, I felt more sympathetic to her.Also, totally agree with 9848943 about the cover art.
As one of the covers of the Knightmare Knights comic arc shows, Tempest in fact looks fantastic in a suit.
See?
LOVED this! Tempest is already a better Friendship problem solver than Twilight and I love it.
9849118
Not a high bar to clear. Pretty sure on the few map missions she went on, Twilight was only ever an impediment.
9848971
In
warfriendship, everything is very simple, but even the simplest thing is difficult. - Clod Width's auf FreundlichkeitI'm as lost as Twilight on how that worked. And, for that matter, why Battlefront said what she said. (Invoking the blind seer trope?) Could someone explain?
9849340
It's true in a lot of things, just because a task is simple doesn't mean it's easy. Lifting heavy objects is simple, but it's not easy. Finding a job can be simple(though often isn't) but not easy.
9849389
Sometimes all people need is to be starkly and directly confronted with their problem, rather than manipulated into facing it. Tempest also took the time to look into the deeper problem the two faced as siblings and in themselves, rather than the surface problem of one merely snubbing the other an invitation.
9849524
You just reminded me of something the early Soviet Union under Lenin tried to set up. See, Karl Marx believed that the value of a thing, rather than being derived from the demand for a thing (i.e., the amount a person is willing to pay for it), was instead derived from the amount of physical labor and effort it took to create the thing. This was called the Labor Theory of Value
While novel and possibly even sensible at first glance, thinking about this for about five seconds leads you realize that a five-foot deep hole in the ground is more valuable than a poem. While I'll grant that this was basically true of most poetry produced in the Soviet Union, or even most poetry in general, we run into problems when you realize that this still applies to, for example, Shakespeare's sonnets - or, amusingly, the Communist Maifesto itself, once we realize that a sufficiently deep hole will be worth more than any prose.
Nevertheless, Lenin was guzzling enough of Marx's Kool-aid, and the rest of Russia was guzzling Lenin's knockoff Kool-aid, so the Soviet Union between 1918 and 1921 under Lenin tried to implement something along these lines, a system of nonmonetary accounting that basically went something along the lines of "okay, so I deposited my kids at the day-care, so now I can withdraw the dishes from the sink". The results were predictable to everyone who wasn't Lenin or one of his Kool-aid guzzlers. The Soviet Union abandoned it (as it did most things Karl Marx), improved a little (as things inevitably do when they move away from Karl Marx) but not by a lot (because we're still starting out with a baseline of Karl motherfucking Marx), but Lenin nevertheless continued to construct a horrible nation of famine and misery until his death.
Yet the guy gets to be immortalized in a glass coffin and venerated like he was Malal or something.
9849101
oh shit :D I need to get back into reading those...
9849546
I get that the direct approach was what's called for. What I don't get is why those specific sentences did what they did. Why would reminding Brassy of his duty accomplish anything? And why would telling Sassy that her past was not today </sunsetshimmer> do anything but deal with her low self esteem?
9849686
The idea was that the grandmother in Brassy's family was the moral center and the one who laid down the exemplars of how to behave. And in Sassy's? Her mother. Tempest was just quoting both of them.
Twilight stared incredulously at Tempest's bizzare question as if she suggested something patently absurd like theorizing the tasty Alfalfa Green silage snack cakes were actually made of some mythological creature like a human or somesuch.
"Ignore a Friendship Quest?! A chance to address interpersonal issues between ponies? Ponies who are the prime movers behind every natural process here on Equus? Ponies who have nearly destroyed the planet because they were jealous of the adoration their older sister was receiving. Ponies who nearly brought about an extinction level ice-age because they refused to talk with one another? Ponies who have released an Eldritch Chaos god through their bickering? Who enslaved a borough because they got called out on their bragging? Ponies who have removed the very souls from their neighbours and repeatedly destroyed Equestria because their filly-hood colt-friend moved to a different town?"
Tempest took a step back, ears splayed back, under Twilight's withering questions. Twilight leaned forward and poked her Captain in the chest with the tip of her hoof.
"Ponies who became Henchpony and field commander of the belligerent forces in Equestria's fifth world war and invasion because of a sports injury with her filly-friends?"
"Oh..."
"But since you ask, Captain, I imagine that if these 'foalish' Friendship Quests are left unresolved, by the end of the month Equestria would either cease to exist, or all of Equus would be reduced to a fiery plasma of its constituent bosons, gluons, and thaumaturgical quibbs. or the very fabric of reality torn asunder while batrachian and tentacular horrors invade from the Dungeon Dimensions."
Twilight softened her glare and smiled sweetly at her down cast captain. "So let's try to resolve these issues before it gets to that stage, m'kay?"
9849869
How can something be both batrachian and tentacular...oh, the tentacles are shaped like frogs.
I don’t have nearly enough tea to deal with this.
Appallingly I am only able to like this once. Have a mustache!
Murk's enjoying this one very much thus far.
9850528
seconded
9849389
The second half of this comment has been sticking in my mind and finally made me realize there was a small detail left out of that scene. Ctrl-F "Battlefront" and see if it doesn't answer your question now. :)
a grate first chapter i really think this story has grate possibility.
9851612
Just so there's no confusion, Down to Brass Tacks is a single, complete story. Other entries in this anthology will be separate stories. Make sure you're reading The Princess's Captain to keep up!
9852186
i guessed that much.
i thought The Princess's Captain was finished with the epilogue but you just did not hit the finished button.
guess i best move it back to my active folder.
9852310
Yeah. That story's going to be running for a long time.
9852319
9850479
Ah, a man (Woman? Attack helicopter?) of impeccable taste and sophistication I see
When did Tempest turn into Twilight's wife?
9854674
Not yet D:
Hmmm Twilight didn't flip out over tempest in a suit.....
9855199
That's what you call hyperfocus. :B
9854922
But that'll be a running gag.
Aha, so I got an answer with the rest of the Mane Six letting them know that yes, the problem was in Canterlot. Nice. It's a minor detail but I was glad to see it noted since that did honestly throw me in the main story.
Shame Twilight doesn't seem to be worth much when actually picked for a Friendship Quest (and that's already rare). Then again, most writers don't seem to know what to do with her. For example, and since we're using a lot of movie plot and characters in this fic's continuity, count the number of times she teleported in the movie. Did you come up with 0? Yes, yes you did. Writers often nerf her because she's easier to write when she's not... well Twilight. And it's really easy to play to her faults and make her look incompetent to the point of downright stupidity, I mean who didn't just love Lesson Zero, am I right? What's the new term: Twily-nanners? So while I can't hold that against this story in particular... I admit it was disappointing.
Meanwhile Tempest almost immediately knows just what to say to each of these two problem... well siblings rather than friends but eh, close enough (especially since they didn't grow up together... and yet share that unusual verbal tic... huh...). Kudos to her; I guess she's a natural. I mean sure the Map is going to call the right ponies for the job but, with that in mind, why did it call Twilight here, again? To paraphrase the Bobs (Office Space, google it if you don't know) 'What would you say... she did here?'
Now, having said that, some positives. The problem itself, and the solution? Well-crafted. Haves and Have-nots really understanding each other is a very old problem and this was an interesting and creative take on that. The fact that, 'annoying' nature aside, each of these two could be turned around with a piercing phrase (gleaned from understanding where they were each coming from, at least to an extent) shows they both have good hearts despite their stubborn inability to empathize with one another.
It also speaks well of Tempest that she did take this problem seriously rather than just blowing off the somewhat frivolous pair. And it comes from her sense of duty to Twilight, and her commitment to bettering herself (the former of which being instrumental in reaching Brass here).
Overall? Nicely done and looking forward to the next installment here (as well as the main story, of course). Be nice if Twilight had more to do than fail, but that seems a tall order. Challenge extended...
Sensors and servos, that was a fun little sojourn. I loved Sassy's backstory. I was on a Sassy Saddles kick for a little while and this presentation of her makes her even more appealing to me. Good job presenting the friendship problem. While it was obvious to the reader it didn't feel forced. Thanks for creating and sharing.
Is it wrong that I questioned wether the end would be better if it had been a feghoot? I’ve come across so many of late.
9908381
Oof, tell me about it. D:
Are you gonna continue this
10316564
Eventually there'll be more, yeah. :) It's more likely that The Princess's Captain will be updated first (and it has been), so make sure you're following that, too!
10316602
I wanna see tempest meet shining armor
10316605
Eventually! :D
9908650
When eventually
10316686
I have a very long roadmap for this pair of stories and no particular timeline to write it on. :B
10316921
Why
10316922
because that's just how I do :B
10316925
Will it be the next chapter
10316928
I'm not planning to have them meet before the shipping begins.
10316942
I can already imagine his reaction to her
9849546
The Marxian theory of value is a lot more complicated than that (and he in fact cautioned against such crude understandings as "ascribing a supernatural creative power to labor"*); the concept Marx believed in may better be referred to as a dual (or even dialectical) theory of value because it refers to two seemingly mutually exclusive things that are both valid and can be exposed to observation by different contexts.
Basically, it was conceived to answer the question of how profit happens, microeconomically, and to solve the metaphysical dispute over value (encompassing bitterly contested questions regarding how to value objects and services and whence they got those values; the actual labour theory of value was in fact the position of one of these disputing sides, and dates back at least to Locke and possibly as far back as Thomas Aquinas).
In essence, Marx believed that there were multiple distinct meanings of value, related to how they were derived: In addition to a price (or 'exchange value') derived from how much people are willing to pay for something, there was the 'use value', derived from how much utility one gains by using something, and (implicit in the theory) a value derived from the cost of making something (ie, based on the cost of all of its factors of production)**.
The gap between the production value and the exchange value of a thing being made (or, more or less equivalently, between the exchange value and use value of its factors of production) causes profit, and does so in a way that is inherent to the theory rather than as an extra term or "fudge factor".
* Note that this sort of supernaturalising of human work is not unique or even particular to left-wing schools of thought; see, eg, Atlas Shrugged's treatment of its "heroes" and their intellectual labour (which is noted to be eerily similar to North Korean Kim-worship).
** There was an explicit attempt to formulate a "socially necessary labour time", but this was not an actual cost-to-produce but a theoretical minimum cost that no-one could improve upon even with perfect control of the means of production, barring technical improvements in production processes; also, precisely because it was a theoretical minimum cost rather than an in-practice cost, it simply proved impossible to calculate.
PS, regarding using labour time as a measure of value: Marx did attempt to measure cost-to-produce in labour-time (although not in person-hours); this was because labour is a required factor of production for basically everything, and it would have seemed easier to work with labour time directly than convert it into monetary costs (imagine trying to calculate distances if you had to measure them in litres of petrol and then convert litres back into kilometres at the end). Also, this was highly abstract stuff that never panned out; criticising him for measuring value in terms of "x% of society's labour-time" is like criticising a string theorist for measuring speed as "x% of the speed of light" (ie, in neither case is the choice of units the problem).
Also, the other contender for "universal measure of value" in Western economic thinking was the gold standard, most famously, and rightly, excoriated in William Jennings Bryan's "Cross of Gold" speech as causing enormous human suffering because of how out of touch it was with the real economy. Basically, rather than the central bank printing as much money as the economy needs to function, it would print as much money as people dug gold from the ground, meaning that the economy was held hostage to the luck of random prospectors (to be fair, however, this criticism also applies to gold-and-silver bimetallism, which Bryan supported instead, and to practically any commodity money).
10642078
Yes. That is the long explanation. And supply-and-demand is a lot more complicated than a seller simply setting a price at which he can find a buyer. Nevertheless, the simplified explanation does work to highlight just how bad at economics Marx fundamentally was and Marxism fundamentally is, at least when exposed to actual reality and forced to reconcile his various economic theories with how people actually behave. Everything you just typed up calls to mind nothing so much as the phrase “a little knowledge is a dangerous thing”, in the sense of the Dunning-Krueger effect; Marx had enough knowledge to write up and espouse these grand theories and make them sound quite intelligent, but not enough knowledge or real-world experience to understand just how fundamentally flawed they were.
Of course the truly dangerous thing is that I’ve met no small number of people who insist that Marx was right, it’s reality that’s wrong.
10642078
10642405
This is easily the strangest conversation that has ever occurred in one of my fics. <.<
10642594
I can drop it if you like.
10642405
As opposed to such rational and level-headed people as US Treasury Secretary Andrew Mellon, who decimated the American economy between 1929 and 1933 because he believed that depression was needed to "purge the rottenness from the system"? Or Joseph Schumpeter, who argued in 1934(!) that the Great Depression was to be welcomed as "something which has to be done"?
Or Eugene Fama, who in late 2007, as the Housing Bubble was blatantly obvious to any competent observer, minimised the possibility that houses might be irrationally overpriced because homebuyers carefully compare prices to those of other houses:
Was Marx wrong about a lot of things? Obviously. So was every other pre-Keynesian economist. In case you missed it, Keynesianism basically obsoleted Classical (eg Adam Smith, David Ricardo, and Marx himself), Neoclassical (the only one I can think of prior to the 1950s is Léon Walras, a key figure in the mathematisation of economics), and Austrian (Schumpeter, Hayek, and von Mises, as well as the aforementioned non-economist Mellon) economics.
Even so, claiming that he believed in the labour theory of value (especially as wilfully misrepresented in your first post) to the exclusion of any other theory of value is not a "simplified explanation" but simply historically illiterate, akin to believing that Christopher Columbus was involved in a dispute over whether the Earth was planar or spherical. Marx believed that there was not one single concept of value, but that there were multiple such concepts, that these concepts of value interact in economically interesting ways, and that "the amount a person is willing to pay for it" is one of those concepts of value. To say otherwise, after what he actually thought has been explained to you, is simply a lie.
And, even though he was wrong about why (and Keynesianism proved him wrong to think that market-based economic systems were fatally flawed), at least he understood that unregulated capitalism is inherently unstable, something many Neoclassical economists who ought to know better have been unwilling to accept.
(Speaking of getting things half-right, I shall give the Austrian school's otherwise cruel and Kafkaesque business cycle theory half-credit for admitting the existence of economic bubbles, or as they put it, "malinvestment")
Regarding absolute and unwavering believers in Marx: There are plenty of people, even many supposedly competent economists, who have the same fervor for Neoclassical economics (that article's author ascribes it to "mist[aking] beauty, clad in impressive-looking mathematics, for truth").
Also, regarding your first post and "Lenin's knockoff Kool-aid", the key to understanding Bolshevism in this context is not Communism or Marxism (the Mensheviks and Social Revolutionaries were also Communists and Marxists) but Lenin's desire to have an immediate and complete abruption with the past and his apparent belief that he could override human nature simply by force of ideology (the Mensheviks split from the Bolsheviks over Menshevik acknowledgement of the reality of human nature in the context of private property); this manifested in trying to rewrite the workweek to eliminate shared weekends and many other ill-thought-out ideas with no obvious connection to Marxism.