Princess Diaries

by emstar

Job One 1.10

I stepped out of the carriage.

The vehicle was stopped at the main house of Sweet Apple Acres. The house was a large ranch style house that looked like it had enough to fit a large family and about half of their extended family. There was a big red stallion on the porch that was eyeing us with some amount of apprehension. The stallion had a close cropped mane and tail, and he was wearing a work collar around his neck. His muscles had muscles.

“Good morning, Big Mac,” Rarity said politely. “We’re here to see Applejack, is she around?”

The stallion, Big Mac presumably, nodded at us, but didn’t make any move to invite us in. Rarity made some sort of motion at the minions that were undoubtedly glowering behind us and I heard a round of thumps and bangs as they re-entered the carriage.

“It’s nice to see you outside of the tavern,” Rarity continued. Plainly, as if she didn’t just absentmindedly order two massive brutes around with a twitch of her hoof. “I’d like to talk to Applejack, if that’s possible. I know that she’s probably not going to want to see me, but I’d like to talk to her all the same.”

Big Mac squinted at the two of us for a moment.

“Ayup,” he finally said. He beckoned us over and entered the building through the large open doorway. Rarity began following him inside, and I was a step or two behind. I could feel the house’s threshold part around me as I walked into the property. It was almost tangible, like walking through a set of heavy stage curtains. That wasn’t something I saw everyday. This was an old home, and this family had lived in it for many generations.

We walked down a main hallway, passing a few closed doors and the occasional open room on the way. Eventually we were brought to an incredibly cramped kitchen. There was a large old fashioned oven at the far end of the room, complete with a stovetop and a set of recently used pots and pans cluttered on top. The fridge jutted out near the doorway we were entering, and the massive Big Mac had to squeeze somewhat to get through. There were stacks of various culinary odds and ends piled all around the kitchen counters, and a pile of dishes soaking in the sink. The room smelled of fried eggs and the faint scent of apple pie. In the middle of the kitchen was a small wooden table covered in a checkered red and white tablecloth. It looked large enough to seat four comfortably (maybe three, if one of those ponies was as large as Big Mac) and had an array of rickety wooden chairs circling it.

Applejack was flomped down in one of the chairs, bent over with her forehead resting on the table. The table was bare save for a newspaper and a crumb-covered plate. Big Mac cleared his throat pointedly and Applejack looked up. She noticed Rarity and pursed her lips.

“What do you want, Rarity?” Applejack said hotly. “If you’ve read the paper this mornin’, which I bet dollars to doughnuts that ya have, then you’d know that I’m not havin’ a great start to my day.”

Big Mac turned around and left the way we came. Rarity stepped up to the table, her mouth opening as if she was about to speak, but then she stopped short and her mouth closed.

“Hello,” I said. “Twilight Sparkle, we met yesterday at Fluttershy’s, um…”

Wow, talking to ponies about problems they were having was awkward when you knew them. I barely even knew these people. Where in the world did I start?

“I came here to talk to you about that pony we met, since you seemed to know her. I’m not sure this is really the time for that— you said you were having some major problems, y’know, but if those are ones that I could help with I’d gladly…”

I trailed off. Applejack’s annoyed gaze turned from Rarity to me. She looked back and forth between us, frowning. Finally she turned back to me.

“You some sort of lackey of hers?” she asked me. “I got no patience for games today, so answer me plainly.”

Lackey!?

I made a face. “Please. Why would I want to work with this pony? She just spent an entire carriage ride playing some sort of mind game with me. No thanks.”

Applejack nodded at that, but Rarity rolled her eyes at my response. Applejack shook her head and turned to glare at Rarity.

“None of that now, ya hear me? You’re a guest in my house and you won’t be actin’ impolite to folks underneath my roof, if you don’t want to get shown the door.”

Rarity’s laissez-faire demeanor wilted ever-so-slightly at that. “Quite.”

Applejack stuck a hoof out at me. “And that goes fer you as well, though I reckon she probably did start in on you on the ride here.”

I nodded.

It’s not like I was the rude one, anyway.

“Anyways,” Applejack said. She held up the newspaper. “More cases of food poisoning been goin’ around, at a lot of places linked to the farm, and it’s not just pets and animals this time. Some of ‘em were bad enough to get some ponies hospitalized. Paper says it might be some bug goin’ around, or some chemicals in the food, yadda yadda, but they got our name here down in the speculation, clear as day.”

Rarity raised a hoof. Applejack looked at her sourly, before nodding.

“That is precisely why I’m here,” Rarity said. “I was hoping to help you sort that out. Simply put, I suspect foul play on the part of some of your competitors.”

Applejack raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”

“Competitors?” I said. “Plural? Are there a lot of large farms around here?”

“Two others,” Applejack replied with a wave of her hoof.

“There’s Cabbage Patch Farms over on the south side of Ponyville,” Rarity explained. “They produce roughly a third of the local food that Ponyville consumes. They mostly deal in vegetables. Second, we have Ruby Red Ranch, which is located several miles out of town, and owned and operated by a corporate entity known as the Wokefoal Corporation, who are in turn a shell company for — ”

“Yeah, yeah,” Applejack said. “I don’t need to hear their life stories. What about them has got yer interest?”

“They’ve both been hiring more employees the last couple months. Quite a large amount.”

Applejack gave a weary sigh. “Okay, let’s suppose that has somethin’ to do with the price of hay at the market— and it don’t, because the Cabbage Patch folk’ve been talkin’ about gettin’ new help since I was a little filly, and those Wokefoal schmucks churn through workers like Big Mac churns a load of butter. What else ya got?”

“I know a pony who knows a pony at the tax department in city hall,” Rarity said matter-of-factly, “and suffice to say that the individuals at Cabbage Patch are sorely in need of a financial planner. On the other hoof, the financial strategy of Ruby Red Ranch’s parent organization seems to indicate that they’re already trying to undercut everypony else. There’s been a suspicious amount of rumors regarding mistreatment at all of their companies in addition to that.”

“Alright,” Applejack said. “So?”

I wasn’t really following. I badly needed a nap. Ugh.

“So,” Rarity said. “Where there’s smoke, there’s undoubtedly fire of some sort. Both groups seem like they’re positioning themselves to run everypony else out of business— and believe me when I say I know exactly what that looks like.”

“Gosh dangit, Rarity,” Applejack quietly swore. She laughed, but her heart didn’t seem to be in it. “You know that farmers don’t do this criminal chessmaster thing? These people put plants in the ground for a living.”

Alright, so that’s confirmation that Rarity is actually some sort of weird crime boss. That’s some information that actually meant something.

I was tuning some of this conversation out, because to me it was as obvious as a ninth-grade calculus problem. I knew that one of these organizations was associated with a vampony— a vampony sorceress, no less— which meant that “Wokefoal” was probably just a mask for “Evil Vampire Business Incorporated”, so if there was any funny business going on, it was probably them.

Sock’em’s Razor: the simplest explanation is often the correct one.

But it’s not like I could outright explain any of that to Rarity and Applejack. If somepony starts going on about vamponies and black magic and wizards and so on, the best case scenario is that I’ll get laughed out of the room. I suppose I could try to use some magic in front of them as supporting evidence, but my tired brain was telling me that wasn’t the best option to open up with.

Plus, I was the new pony in town. It’s a thin chain of logic from “wizard moves to town” to “horrible things soon start happening” to “this is somehow Twilight’s fault”. It wasn’t guaranteed that they would see things that way, but I wasn’t confident.

“Okay, I don’t mean to interrupt,” I said, trying to steer the conversation a bit. “So, there was a very weird social interaction yesterday at Fluttershy’s with this Wokefoal corporate pony, and I wanted to ask you, Applejack, what was up with that, since you seem like a straight shooter and she gave me some bad vibes.”

That seemed to get their attention.

“Plus,” I continued on, ”I have a pet beetle over at Fluttershy’s that's being treated for whatever this bug going around is. I’m sort of invested in fixing this situation as well— and from what the both of you are saying, it seems like there’s something to get to the bottom of. Would you mind helping me do that? It might help if I inform you that I am, in fact, a licensed private investigator.”

That last statement was factually true, in the same sense that the statement “I have a bachelor’s degree in library science” was true. I had a very real diploma from a very real university saying so. Similarly, I had a private investigator’s license.

When applying for the job in Ponyville, I neglected to mention that I had gotten the degree through Wizard Connections, and that it was in part a fictional credential designed to explain what I was doing with most of my adult life while I was learning magic. Only in part, since I had taken a few classes on the subject.

Similarly, I neglected to mention that I received my PI license after completing a correspondence course.

It just didn’t seem that important of a detail at the time, you know?

Comments

[Mister Morden]

Twilight, you should pay attention to these conversations... The devil is in the details.

So is Applejack our Murphy? I don't think so... No that doesn't fit. She might be our Michael now that I think of it. Maybe? Time will tell.

[Booster Spice]

For some reason, given the Dresdenverse style of twists, and a couple other fics noticed over the years, that Big Mac is a Were, and maybe the Apples?

I mean, Granny Annie Smith?

[Pinklestia]

Being Twilight Sparkle she did more that the "correspondence course." and take a few classes, she studied so much she is overqualified.

So this is an example of Twilight putting herself down.

[Pinklestia]

11050273

Definitely not Murphy.

[Comickook]

11050273
Well, to be fair, she probably WOULD pay A LOT more attention if she weren't so gosh-darned tired.

[Comickook]

Once again, you did a really good job on the exchanges, characterizations and future chapter set-up. Really appreciated Twilight's first meeting with Big Mac as well as chatting with Applejack (including her confirming to Applejack that she is NOT going to let herself get suckered in by Rarity's mind games), the dialogue between Rarity and Applejack concerning possible suspects and Twilight pointing out that she is qualified to help out with this (even if possibly understating her training credits).

Anyway, certainly looking forward to more of this.

[Pinklestia]

11050369

Either Big Mac has a the sword of the cross or Applejack does and Applejack seems way too busy with the farm.

Unless... Pinkie Pie?

Pinkie Pie with a sword of the cross? GET OUT OF THE UNIVERSE!

[Booster Spice]

11050802

I wouldve thought Pinkie would have a similar reaction to deity class power, as Dr Doom.

[Pinklestia]

11050861

Pinkie Pie is already Discord Lite, giving her a sword of the cross would make anyone evil who is not a complete idiot avoid her like Tartarus.