My Brave Pony: The Heart of the World

by Scipio Smith

A Generous Impulse

A Generous Impulse

Pinkie hopped along on all fours, bouncing down the Utican street at the front of the group. “So how do you think we ought to start looking for bad guys, huh? Huh?”

“Ah ain’t entirely sure yet, Pinkie,” Applejack admitted. “Ah gotta think about this for just a minute first.”

“Speaking for myself, I sincerely hope that we will not be running into any genuine ‘bad guys’, as you so aptly put it, Pinkie Pie,” Rarity drawled. “I, for one, have had quite enough villainy visited upon me for one trip.”

Pinkie stopped bouncing long enough to look back at the three ponies following on after her. “But we’re supposed to be looking for-“

“Ruffians and hirelings and overall rather low sorts,” Rarity said. “However, while I am prepared to deal with rough, coarse and unrefined people for the sake of finding out what we can about the unicorns who came before us, I hope that I’m not alone in being very undesirous of meeting any genuine villains.”

“Oh, I get it!” Pinkie cried. “You’re okay with looking for bad guys, you just don’t want to meet any bad guys!”

Rarity glanced upwards as she considered that. “Yes, I suppose you could put it like that, darling.” There was, after all, a difference between someone who lacked refinement, and who might be such need of money that they would listen to any number of promises, no matter how outlandish, and someone who had left all of their morals at the door.

Shadow Spade, after all, frequently found herself down on her luck and in need of funds from whatever quarter, but at the same time she was bound by an iron and inflexible code of honour, surrounded by lines that she would not cross at any price.

They were probably not going to be fortunate enough to meet anyone so noble here in Utica’s poorer quarters, but she had some hope – a fool’s hope, perhaps, but that only made it all the more appropriate for this quest – that they might meet someone close.

There were certain kinds of people, on the other hoof, with whom she had no desire at all to deal.

“You don’t honestly think that anyone with anything useful to tell us is going to be a nice zebra, do you?” Rainbow asked dismissively, from where she hovered above the earth-bound ponies in the street below. “Or even a nice horse, for that matter. When have we been that lucky on this trip?”

“Sophoniba turned out to be pretty nice, even before she and Zecora cleared up all their misunderstandings,” Pinke pointed out.

“I guess,” Rainbow replied. “But we’re not talking about the lady of the town here, we’re talking about zebras who agreed to go and help this Sunset Shimmer find the Heart of the World, and then they just ditched her! Left her in the desert to die!”

“Twilight thinks that she didn’t die,” Pinkie pointed out. “Twilight thinks that she made it all the way into space!”

“Twilight… Twilight thinks a lot of things,” Rainbow said. “My point is-“

“And what is that supposed to mean, Rainbow Dash?” Rarity demanded.

Rainbow sighed. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Actually, darling, I rather think it does,” Rarity replied. “Twilight is counting on our help-“

“And she’ll get it,” Rainbow insisted, descending towards the ground. “I’m not going to leave like everyone who followed Sunset Shimmer! I’m with Twilight all the way, always. I just…”

“Don’t wanna be here?” Applejack guessed.

“This is something that nopony – that no one – has ever found,” Rainbow reminded them. “And the last two really smart unicorns who went looking for it never came back. Am I the only one who is worried about that? And all of this for what? For a guy? For a guy who isn’t worth it, and I defy any of you to say different.”

“Lightning saved Twilight,” Pinkie pointed out.

“After he was willing to kill you,” Rainbow replied. “And would you even have needed saving, would we even have had this kind of trouble from Raven in the first place, if Lightning hadn’t shown up?”

“I really couldn’t say,” Rarity admitted. “But I’m not sure that it really matters. Whatever may have prompted Raven to do what she did, she bears responsibility for her actions, she and her alone. It wasn’t Lightning Dawn who tried to do such a terrible thing to Pinkie, after all. And as for Lightning Dawn, I don’t think that it really matters what kind of a stallion he is or was, either.”

“You don’t?” Rainbow asked incredulously.

“No,” Rarity said. “Because Twilight needs to do this, and that being the case we need to help her do it.” She smiled. “What else is there to say?”

“That Twilight could get hurt,” Rainbow said softly. “In all kinds of ways.”

Rarity chuckled. “Then that’s her choice to take the risk; she’s old enough to make that decision for herself.”

“Ah agree,” Applejack added. “Ah get where you’re comin’ from Sugarcube, but Twilight ain’t our little sister and it ain’t our job to coddle her so that nothin’ bad ever happens to her. And besides, we all agreed way back in Ponyville that we’d come along on this trip and help her out best we could. Seems a little late to be backing out now.”

“I’m not backing out!” Rainbow cried. “I’m… ah, forget it. Where were we?”

“You were talking about the zebras who promised to help Sunset and then ditched her!” Pinkie declared. “Although I think it’s a little judgemental to write them off so easily; they might have had good reasons for coming home.”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t change the fact that they left her out there, any more than the fact that Sunset maybe didn’t die doesn’t change the fact that they left her out there,” Rainbow insisted. “Does that sound like the kind of thing that good people would do?”

“It sounds like the kind of thing that folks workin’ for hire would do,” Applejack pronounced. “I remember one time when Ah was a little filly Ah asked ma Pa, why he didn’t hire nopony else to help him work the orchards, and he said to me ‘Applejack, you can pay folks all the bits in Equestria, but it won’t bind ‘em to the land the way we’re bound, it won’t make ‘em love the apple trees the way Ah do, and it won’t hold ‘em to the work once their legs start achin’ and the blisters on their hooves start forming’.’ It sounds like it was the same thing here, that there Sunset Shimmer promised ‘em the moon and back, but that wasn’t enough to hold ‘em to somethin’ they didn’t believe in once the goin’ got tough. That’s why we have to stick with Twilight: because we’re the only ponies who will stick with Twilight.”

“You make a very good, if slightly cynical, point, darling,” Rarity murmured. When I become a great success I shall have to be on the lookout, and ensure that I hire for passion rather than somepony simply looking for a job.

“We’re looking for the worst kind of scum,” Rainbow averred confidently. She grinned. “At least I kinda hope so.”

Rarity’s eyebrows rose. “You hope so, darling?”

“Well, yeah,” Rainbow replied. “This trip has been kind of rough so far-“

“Yes, so naturally dealing with scum will make it so much smoother,” Rarity observed dryly.

“At least it’ll be fun!” Rainbow insisted. “It’s something we could do with a little bit of.”

“You and I have very different definitions of the word ‘fun’,” Rarity replied.

“Hold on, y’all,” Applejack said. “We still gotta decide how we’re gonna find these here fellas, first.”

“You mean you don’t have an idea yet?” Pinkie asked.

“No, Pinkie, not yet,” Applejack conceded. “And don’t suppose any of the rest of y’all have anythin’ in mind?”

“Why don’t we just start asking if anyone knows anything?” Pinkie suggested.

“It might just come to that,” Applejack muttered, pushing her hat back on her head a little. “But Ah’m hopin’ that we can come up with somethin’ a little better.”

The four ponies wandered out of the modest street in which they had held their discussion and into one of Utica’s market squares; their hooves tapped lightly on the stones beneath as they walked through a square surrounded on all sides by wooden market stalls, shielded from the sun by awnings in various colourful shades and patterns, selling sweet treats and table wear and all manner of everything, really. All manner of everything except clothes. Although some of these zebras were dressed, in brilliantly coloured capes or loose gowns adorned with the feathers of many beautiful birds, no one that Rarity could see – at least no one here – was selling any of them. Was there a gap in the market? Were all of these finely adorned zebras making their own outfits?

What does it matter if they are? Rarity thought to herself. You’re not here to scout for locations for the next boutique.

Nevertheless, she found herself curious.

Everything in the square was proceeding in an orderly fashion. Guards with spears patrolled up and down the square, or stood at carefully chosen vantage points keeping watch over the crowds that thronged the market stalls.

Rarity found her attention drawn to one particular stall that looked to be selling some rather refreshing looking fruit drinks, chilled by the look of it; behind the stall stood an abraxas, a sort of unicorn for zebras, cousin to both races, taller than either of them and quite slender in build, with two horns, curving gently backwards, atop their head. This particular abraxas was producing ice from somewhere and, with telekinesis, depositing it into the large wooden cups in which he served the drinks.

“You know, darlings,” Rarity said, “it’s often said that those serving refreshments hear a great deal, and consequently have a great deal of knowledge to pass on.”

“Is that right?” Applejack replied. “Or are you just thirsty?”

Rarity gasped theatrically. “I’m shocked and appalled that you would malign me with the attribution of such selfishness, Applejack, shocked and appalled! Although, a little refreshment while we think couldn’t hurt, could it?”

Lady Sophoniba had proved rather generous, if Rarity said so herself; being reunited with her beloved sister had put her in the mood to give back, and so the four ponies had all washed the dust off their limbs and out of their manes. Rarity’s mane now sparkled in the bright sunlight of Quaggai, and if nopony else had taken such pains their manes and coats all looked a good deal healthier than when they had arrived in Utica. Applejack now wore a sturdy new saddlebag across her back, and they had money to spend to aid them in their quest for information. Not unlimited money, of course, but it was, again, far better than they had arrived with.

As they approached the drinks stand, Rarity found herself wishing that she had asked to borrow a hat or something to keep the sun off her face.

Something like that handsome young abraxas was wearing over there.

He who had caught Rarity’s eye was a tall, willowy abraxas with a pair of horns that looked a little longer than any others that Rarity could see in the square, but he had arranged his canary yellow hat – adorned with a peacock feather – in such a way that his horns did not get in the way. Across his back he wore a cape which, like his hat, was canary yellow, and looked rather dashing on him, although the effect was rather lessened by the fact that it was becoming a bit moth-eaten at the hem, fraying and starting to come apart. In fact, now that Rarity looked twice, that peacock feather was looked a little worse for wear as well. Across his chest, the young abraxas wore a sash of plain leather, although to Rarity’s mind something fancier would have served him better; red perhaps, no, cloth of gold! Yes, that would have been perfect!

Her attention was diverted away from the – mostly – well dressed abraxas as the four ponies reached the stall selling drinks.

“The sun shines very bright this morning,” the abraxas behind the stall declared. “Please take shelter beneath the awning. Welcome, no fuss and no to-do; what may I get for you?”

“One lemon juice, please,” Rarity said.

“Make that two,” Rainbow added quickly.

“Ah’ll have an apple juice,” Applejack said.

“I’ll take tootie-frootie!” Pinkie chirruped cheerfully.

“Excellent choices, one and all; you’ll not regret coming to my stall,” the abraxas said, and his horn glowed just as a unicorn’s would have, the larger of the horn flaring with a white light as ingredients flew out of their places to mix together in the wooden cups. Lemons were squeezed, apples were pulped, a truly dazzling array of berries and things that Rarity hadn’t even know where fruits were mixed together for Pinkie, and water was frozen into cubes of ice that dropped down into the cups to chill the liquid there within.

Finally, there host levitated the four cups and set them down in front of the four ponies.

“Take a rest, enjoy the best,” he declared.

“Does it ever get difficult coming up with those rhymes?” Rainbow asked.

“You have no idea,” the abraxas muttered.

Rainbow’s ears pricked up. “What was that?”

The abraxas behind the stall cleared his throat. “To devise rhymes it is no trouble, my mind sees sentences in double.”

Rainbow’s eyes narrowed. “Uh huh,” she muttered. “Good for you, I guess.”

Rarity took a sip of her lemon juice. It was sharp, and tangy, and rather refreshing. “Almost as good as this juice, it’s very good I must say.”

“It’s not bad,” Applejack said. “It ain’t the only thing that we’re hopin’ to find, though.”

“We’re looking for mercenaries!” Pinkie cried brightly.

The abraxas behind the stall raised his eyebrows. “Forgive me, I do not think you weak, but you seem not the kinds to mercenaries seek.”

“Nevertheless, if you seek a warrior, you shall fine one!” declared the other abraxas, the young one in the canary yellow hat that Rarity had so admired earlier. “Your search ends here with Hannibal, Hamilcar’s son!”

The drinks vendor rolled his eyes. “Ponies, heed me and not this rascal tongue; take his advice and you’ll go wrong. If it is warriors you seek-“

“Then I, amongst their number, am the peak!” Hannibal proclaimed, striking a pose with his head held high and his chin pointed upwards. “I’ve fought and I’ve conquered again and again-“

“Only in your delusions so vain!” cried a voice from out of the crowd, to a general round of chuckling from the zebras thronging the market.

Hannibal shuffled uncomfortably, but tried to forge ahead nonetheless. “My enemies tremble when I shake my spear-“

“Not even a mouse would this popinjay fear!” shouted a different voice, and this time the laughter was louder.

Hannibal’s face – at least the white stripes – were starting to redden with embarrassment. “I bear many scars of war on my flank-“

“From when your father gave you a good spank!” some zebra shouted, and by now the whole market was dissolved in fits of laughter, falling like waves down upon poor Hannibal, who’s head darted this way and that as though he were desperately looking for a friend of some sort in the crowd but finding none. He turned away, fleeing out of the square down one of the alleyways leading away from it, his tattered cape fluttering behind him, pursued by the sounds of mocking laughter that harried him like stray dogs snapping at his heels.

“What was that about?” Rainbow asked, drinking some more of her juice.

“Hannibal oft haunts the market square, running after fortune like a hare,” the drinks seller said. “He wants and claims to be a soldier, to hear him talk you’d think none were bolder; but he has no experience and no skill, and between you and me he also lacks the will; he could never succeed in bearing arms, he’d only manage to do himself harm.”

“Then why does he want to be one so badly?” Pinkie asked

“And why is everyone here so cruel to him?” Rarity added. “Surely there was no need to laugh at him like that?”

“You heard him brag, you heard him boast,” the seller said, “for that he deserved a little roast. He was trying to lead you astray, but now you know to stay away.”

Rarity frowned a little. That young abraxas… he hadn’t seemed like a con artist to her. Yes, it seemed that he had lied to them, attempted to exaggerate his status and experience, but Rarity knew from her own experience that it was possible to lie and to exaggerate with only the best of intentions, even if you did find yourself stumbling deeper and deeper into a web of lies as a result.

Perhaps… it was something away that he had fled. That didn’t seem like the action of a hardened liar and practiced deceiver – nor, for that matter, had been telling his lies where so many people were so eager to call him out.

It seemed more like… to be perfectly honest, Rarity didn’t quite know what it seemed like it, except that it seemed something more worthy of pity than condemnation.

“What are you thinkin’ Rarity?” Applejack asked.

“I’m thinking…” Rarity hesitated. “I’m thinking that I should go after him.”

“What?” Rainbow exclaimed. “You did hear the part where he’s not a real mercenary, right? Besides, he’s too young to know anything, even if he was a real mercenary-“

“I’m not suggesting that I go after him for information, still less because we actually want to engage his services,” Rarity explained. “I’m suggesting that I should go after him because he needs help, and it seems clear that nobody here is going to help him.”

“I guess,” Rainbow allowed. “But we’re supposed to be helping Twilight, remember?”

“Ah don’t see that just because we’re here for Twilight doesn’t mean we can’t do right by others,” Applejack said. “If folks only ever took care of their own business we’d be… well, we’d be dyin’ outside the walls of Utica by now.” She paused. “Ah’ll go with Rarity and find this boy, you and Pinkie keep on lookin’ for information.”

“You want us to split up?” Pinkie asked. “Are you sure?”

“Ah think that Rarity and Ah can handle this,” Applejack said. “And Ah think that the two of you can get on well enough without us.”

“Sure we can!” Rainbow said. “Me and Pinkie can handle it, right Pinkie?”

“Absolutely!” Pinkie chirruped.

Rarity smiled. “I’m delighted to hear it, darlings.” She finished off her lemon juice. “Applejack, when you’re ready.”

“Ah’m ready when you are, Rarity,” Applejack said, in a soft and easy tone of voice.

“Well then, best of luck darlings,” Rarity said to Rainbow and Pinkie. “Wish us luck in return.” She turned away from them, setting off in the direction that Hannibal had fled, with Applejack following patiently behind her.

“Thank you, Applejack,” Rarity added, as they entered the alleyway. “For letting me do this.”

“Ah meant what Ah said to Rainbow Dash,” Applejack replied. “Although if we looked hard enough, we could probably find a whole bunch of folks needin’ help. Ah mean we kind of did see a whole bunch of folks in need of our help on the way down to Cirta.”

“You’re talking about the slaves,” Rarity murmured.

“Eeyup,” Applejack agreed. “No doubt they could have used somepony to help them out, too.”

“No doubt,” Rarity admitted. “But what were we supposed to do about that? Overthrow a whole social system by ourselves?”

“Ah’m not sayin’ there was anythin’ that we could have done,” Applejack said. “If Ah thought that there was an easy fix Ah’d have made sure we did it on the way down. Ah’m just sayin’, it might make us a mite hypocritical to jump at the chance to help someone now.”

“I don’t see it that way,” Rarity said. “I see it as helping who we can, when we can. It’s not something to boast about, that we couldn’t help all those poor slaves in Grevyia, but it isn’t something to be ashamed of either; I don’t think anypony in their right mind could expect the six of us to change the world just by willing it so. The question, as I see it, is not ‘do you help everyone’, but ‘do you help everyone that it is in your power to help?’ So, to my way of thinking, not helping this poor young abraxas would be much worse, because we have the power to do something.”

“You mean you hope we do,” Applejack said. “We ain’t found out what his problem is yet.”

“No, I suppose not,” Rarity allowed. “But it has to be more manageable than social injustice, doesn’t it?” She thought of all the zebras laughing at him. “You’re right, I do hope so, at least.”

Applejack chuckled. “Maybe think about it like this, sugarcube: compared to findin’ a long lost somethin’ that nopony quite knows what it was let along where it is, anythin’ else is sure to be a breeze, right?”

Rarity’s laughter was like the peeling of bells. “You may be right about that, Applejack. You deserve to be right about that.”

They found Hannibal skulking around the corner, the fraying ends of his canary yellow cloak gathering dust as he sat on his haunches, the jaunty angle of his own hat seeming to mock him in his despond.

He looked up at the two ponies as they approached, and Rarity thought that he had been crying.

“They’ve told you now that I’m no mercenary,” he said, “but did you need to come and laugh at me?”

“Laugh at you?” Rarity said. “Why ever would you think we’d come here to laugh at you?”

Hannibal looked at her.

“Well… because everyone else does, I suppose,” Rarity admitted, shuffling uncomfortably on her hooves. “But no, darling, I haven’t come here to laugh at you, and neither has Applejack. We’re here to help you, if we can.”

Hannibal blinked. “Help me? Help me, you wish to help, you say? Why would you give me time of day?”

“Because… because you look like you need help,” Rarity said. “And because helping those in need is what a generous pony does.”

“Do you mind tellin’ us why you wanted us to hire you as a mercenary?” Applejack asked. “Most folks don’t seem to think you’re the kind who’s suited for it, so why do you want it so bad?”

“Want it? You think that to be a warrior is my desire?” Hannibal asked, looking up at the pair of them incredulously. “Think you the song of spears ignites my fire?”

“It don’t?” Applejack asked, sounding just as incredulous at the response as Hannibal had been at the question.

“If not, then why are you so seemingly desperate to break into the profession, darling?” inquired Rarity.

Hannibal was silent for a moment. He glanced away, and gently lifted the canary yellow hat from off his head, looking down at it as he gripped it in his hooves, turning it around and around in his grasp. “My father is in body ailing, each day his strength seems greater failing. I am his son, his only child; a fact of which he is not wild. For my father I must care, it is a burden mine to bear; I must have income to maintain, him in a life that’s free from pain.”

“Ah can understand that,” Applejack declared. “My Pa… well, my folks, they ain’t around no more, but Ah got my old Granny Smith to take care of, and seein’ that she’s done right by… well, it’s one of the things that gets me up in the mornin’. But Ah still don’t see how needin’ to care for your Pa means you have to go and do somethin’ you ain’t wild about. Ain’t there anythin’ else that you could do? Anythin’ that you might actually enjoy, maybe?”

Hannibal bowed his head. “There is a thing that I would love; if I could in the field of fashion prove; my talents, then I’d be more than content; sadly I fear it is not meant; to be, my father he will not permit it; his noble profession, I must inherit it.”

“Fashion?” Rarity repeated. “You mean to say that you are an aspiring fashionista?”

Hannibal’s head sunk yet lower. “I know I do not look like much, but in my head there are such-“

“Ideas?” Rarity interrupted him. “Yes, I do believe that I can see it for myself. Was that feather in your cap your idea?”

“It was, I thought that it would go quite well,” Hannibal agreed enthusiastically. “Though, in its present state it’s not so swell. My cape, as well, has need of some repair; I look at it and sometimes I despair. I cannot afford to indulge my style, nor is that likely to change for a while.”

“What would you do with it?” Rarity asked. “If money were no object?”

“Feathers upon the hem and collar,” Hannibal said, “from parrots of miraculous colour; and this sash too should be of gold, not of leather rather old.”

Rarity found herself smiling. “You know that’s just what I said when I saw you in the market square earlier.”

“You noticed me in the market square? Even before I tried to bend your ear?” Hannibal asked.

The smile remained on Rarity’s face. “You cut quite a figure, darling,” she assured him. “Now, that might work for a certain kind of romantic adventurer, I suppose, but since that isn’t really what you want I feel very confident in saying that it would be far more becoming of a fashionista. Yes, indeed, you must stop all of this ridiculous nonsense about your becoming some sort of spear-wielding brute and embrace your calling. You have talent! You have an eye, you know what a thing needs, and what is most important you have your own style, and that is something that every true artiste of the fashion world possesses. I can’t let your talent go to waste, I won’t hear of it.”

Hannibal frowned. “But my father-“

“Should learn to be proud of the son that he has, not the one that he hoped for,” Rarity said.

“It ain’t always that simple,” Applejack murmured.

“Hmm, I’m well aware of that,” Rarity replied softly. “I must admit, that when I first told my parents that I wanted to make it in the world fashion, they were… they weren’t hostile to the idea, but it was clear to me that they didn’t understand it. They didn’t understand what I wanted to do or why.”

“How was it that you made them see?” Hannibal asked. “That this is what you were meant to be?”

“I’m still not sure what it is that I do,” Rarity replied dryly. “But they understand that it makes me happy and that I’m… somewhat successful at it.”

“Somewhat?” Applejack said. “You own your own store, Rarity, ain’t that good enough for ‘em?”

“It’s not a question of being good enough for them, darling, but of being good enough for me,” Rarity declared. “One boutique in a charming provincial town is all very well, in fact I will even go so far as to call it a good start, but it is hardly the end of my ambitions, no. I shall not be satisfied until I have boutiques in Canterlot and Manehattan, and when that is done I shall spread out from those pillars of the fashion world to embrace Fillydelphia and Baltimare and anywhere else haute couture is worn.”

Applejack snorted. “You make it sound like conquerin’ an empire,” she observed, with a touch of humour in her voice.”

Rarity chuckled. “Perhaps I do, Applejack, but what empire in history has brought so much joy into the world as my fashion empire shall?”

“Do I understand what you are saying, that you have a shop and customers paying,” Hannibal said, “to wear the garb of your creation, the product of your inspiration? You have a place to call your own, and plans for more your mind has sewn?”

“I have a business, yes,” Rarity said. “Carousel Boutique, in my hometown of Ponyville.”

“Do you seek a place in Utica too?” Hannibal asked. “Do you intend that I should work for you?”

“I intend that you should work for yourself, darling,” Rarity corrected him. “For your own dreams, your own pleasure, your own… your own whatever you please, that’s rather the point. No, I’m not here on any business related to my… business, I’m here to assist a friend in a matter which I’m afraid must remain private. It’s my friend’s business mainly, and not ours to divulge, but in any case we’re not here to talk about us right now, but about you. I can’t let you languish in this absurd situation.” She looked at Applejack. “I simply can’t,” she added, with a touch of defensiveness in her voice.

Applejack smiled. “No need to look at me like that, Ah get it. Like you said, the things that we can do to help.”

Rarity nodded. She turned her attention back to Hannibal. “Would you mind taking us to see your father?” she asked. “I’d like to try and set him straight about a few things.”