Introduction
Introduction
It had taken several weeks to travel to the Yaket Range, the icy mountains just north of the Crystal Empire. Princess Twilight from Ponyville had sent out a recruitment team to find a group of strong labour ponies who would be up to the task of an expedition deep into the mountains. I wasn’t a stranger to this kind of work so I was unsurprisingly assigned the role of a supervisor. It pays well, don’t get me wrong, but it takes a long history of hard grafting before employers start to consider you for this kind of work. Sometimes I just think they're looking for old, strong men to shout at the younger workers for slacking off but I wasn’t like that. I liked to get along with the workers. It makes for a more productive and pleasant work environment when you know your boss’ll cut you some slack when you need it.
I’m not usually one to ask questions when it came to this kind of work, but I can’t say I’m not interested in what Princess Twilights business was all the way up here in these northern mountains. The crisp air filled my old lungs with a deadly, sharp nip and the snow had risen to my ankles. This made our journey extremely slow, our movement being very stiff and tedious. Watching the same blank white canvas of snow for hours on end was maddening. When we finally arrived where we’d be camping for the night, the air was clear enough to see the apparently never ending Yaket Range. The tall, rather intimidating mountains blew wind through the desolate gaps between them and the howling voice of the wind could put shivers down your spine when you made the mistake of thinking about how far you were from any sort of civilization.
We had come in a fairly sized work unit of 25: 20 workers, 4 supervisors (including myself) and an officer whose job it was to oversee the entire mission. We hadn’t yet reached our destination when we stopped, but getting lost at night during a blizzard and losing your team is the last thing you wanted. Nighttime snow blizzards have killed more ponies than Ice Wraiths this deep into The North. The worker ponies began to set up the camp as me and the other supervisors discussed the trip ahead with our officer.
“I won’t lie to you boys, we could be here a good couple weeks. We’ve been told to start digging in the south quadrant of the map.” The officer began to hand out maps as he spoke. Officer Raul Jefferson was an old pony and he still lived life like it was a different time, a time before. On the trip here one of the younger workers had been asking the other fellows which one of the new princess they’d rather “have a night of fun” with. I paid no attention. Sure, maybe it’s disrespectful but things are more modern now. People do have these kinds of conversations. The old officer, however, did not find the conversation too amusing. He struck the boy across the cheek and grunted “You will not refer to their highness’ in that manner ever again on this mission. Do you understand me!”
“Sir, can I ask. What are we actually looking for?” Another supervisor asked.
For a split second, it looked like the older officer didn’t know how to respond. “Honestly son, We’re not really sure. We know that it’s some sort of old structure, maybe a buried town or a crashed Pegasus carriage. All I do know is, once we find it, we’ve to leave immediately and let Princess Twilight do the rest. No questions asked.”
This wasn’t the normal script for a job like this. Especially one with so much danger and such a brutal environment. Usually you’d at least be told what you were trying to find. What were we meant to tell the workers?
“And what about the wildlife? A lot of bears and banished necromancers said to be around these parts.” This came from the supervisor to the right of me. He was a big, towering pony. With a thick brown beard and piercing black eyes. He wore especially untailored brown fur clothing and he growled when he spoke to accompany his brute, northern accent. He seemed just a decade younger than me, perfect for manual labour and striking fear into the hearts of unwilling workers.
“The princess was kind enough to donate a small weapons cache. A few rifles, two shotguns, for hunting purposes only, and a smaller crate full of combat knives. Hand the knives out to your workers but whatever you do. Do not, ever, give a worker one of the firearms. They are for us only.” Officer Jefferson had the same kind of attitude I would if you had been doing the same job for about 40 years and just before you hit 60 the princess orders you to go live in the ice filled mountains for several weeks.
As the sun began to set, that nip in the air slowly got worse. With my lungs beginning to feel heavy and my body beginning to ache from all the trekking through deep snow. The workers had finished building up our tents. Large military grade heat keeping tents had been given to us by Princess Twilights royal guards. Camouflaged with the snow to stop wildlife from being attracted to the campsite. The workers all shared five to a tent and the officer and the supervisors all shared their own. A great big fire was made and all the workers sat around it and began to chat. Most of the supervisors ignored the younger lads as usual, minus the brute with the brown beard, but I never understood why. I enjoyed sharing a drink with them and getting to know the team I’d be working with for the next several weeks. Their young patter always kept me on my hoofs and in a way, it kept me feeling young. Physically I’m not getting any younger, so it’s nice to know I can still gain their respect.
The night and fire both roared on. In the time it had taken everyone to get to know each other, I had found myself in a world of spinning intoxication. Such was the tradition with a lot of the northern ponies here, to share a drink with a man you’ve just met. They had me drinking strong Yakyakistan absinthe. Around the flames, the lads and I danced and sung. Old royalist songs of about the fall of Sombra or more modern tunes poking fun at Tirek and his failure to take over Equestria. The older officer seemed to enjoy this, as he had a smile on his face when he left his tent for a piss.
I then sat and spoke to a boy, Greaser, who was only in his twenties. He told me about his misses back home and how they had just had a foal. That look in his eye… it reminded me of… when I…. never mind. Anyhow, Greaser was obviously one of the ‘cool cat’ kind of ponies with slick, black hair and a Manehattan accent. I’m sure the thick robes he was wearing to keep the frostbite away wasn’t as comfortable as his black leather jack and cowboy boots he wore back home. He spoke confidently, which was good for jobs like this. No use having a worker who doesn’t want to talk to anyone. He told me how he was looking for any kind of work that was available, how the job market wasn’t exactly thriving in Manehatten and that stuff like this was all he could find. He wasn’t lying that’s for sure. The job market in the last couple years hasn’t really been great for the average pony. With all these recent war efforts, the kingdom's expenses have been low and workers just either haven’t been getting paid or are getting let go.
“There’s great honour in this kind of work though son, don’t feel embarrassed or think this work is beneath you. These are strong, real men here.”
“Of course, I’d never think that! I’ve got respect for the people who do this kind of work and I’m getting to directly serve one of the princesses. It’s a dream come true, but I just-“
He stopped talking and turned to look to his right. He looked off into the distance, away from the camp. A pitch-black veil surrounded everything that wasn’t next to the fire and was blocking both our long-sighted vision, but for a second, it looked like something was out there. Moving, watching, just for a second. In that moment, it was like everything had gone quiet, except the whistling of the wind… and then.
BANG!
One of the younger workers had smacked the radio and fixed the connection. Someone to Watch Over Me by Gertrot Lawrence came on and all the lads started to cheer. The frightened look on Greasers face started to calm. I laughed, patted him on the shoulder and retired to my tent for the evening. The drinking went on hours after I went back to my tent but eventually I managed to slip into a dream.
The dream was so clear to me. It was like I was there, back again in the comfort of my home. The cottage by the lake in Ponyville, the flower woman who came around every week with a new collection for us, the fresh smell of the river in the morning and of course my wife’s terrible cooking. God, I missed it.