> Odysseed
>  by AuroraDawn
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was one of Applejack’s favourite dreams, and she whispered a silent thank you into the aether while she pranced about her acreage, beaming all the way. As much as she took pride in her work, and knew how good a hard day’s labour would feel, it was always nice in a realm of no consequence to be granted a world where all her chores were done when she awoke.

Lines of apple trees stretched into the beyond, each one full of nothing but leaves, standing tall over buckets overflowing with the family’s fruit. The buckets were sliding themselves along the ground soundlessly into the barn, where Applejack knew they were being bundled up and sorted and all the soft and rotten ones would vanish out of existence.

To the east of her were all the animal pens, and the hogs and chickens were all comfortable in their enclosures, all fed and fat and happy. Applejack could hear the distant clucking of contented chickens, peppered with the occasional oinking from the pleased pigs. There were no disturbances, no jobs left, just time to appreciate the world around her. In this dream, she could take the day off and go visit friends, take a steam at the metaphysical spa, go for a refreshing swim, or any of a million things that farm work made difficult. 

She turned away from the orchard and pranced along the fence back towards her house, aiming for the tall hill on the west side of the farm. The rows of new-looking fence planks and patched wire brought a smile to her face. Everything seemed to be accounted for in this little fantasy; everywhere she looked was exactly as she wanted it to be.

The tall hill would—in real life—have presented a steep enough climb to require more careful steps. This was Applejack’s dream however, and she was perfectly enjoying her trot, thank-you-very-much, and as such the dirt-worn path gladly offered no resistance nor trouble to her while she bounded up it.

Just as she had hoped, when she reached the top and flopped onto her side beside the lone tree, the sun had almost set. It had been midday a couple minutes ago, of course, but this dream was yet again one step ahead of her. Without her consciously thinking it, the time had swapped imperceptibly to the turning corner of evening, and precisely as Applejack had settled down and rested her back against the sturdy trunk behind her the last vestiges of sunlight flashed themselves away on the horizon, and night fully fell.

As if summoned by a switch a trillion freckles of stars appeared above, each one comfortably nested in the inky soup of interstellar space. Clusters of stars danced and twinkled, calling for Applejack’s attention, begging her to focus on their constellation. She chuckled lightly, craning her head about while drinking it all in. Never once did this night sky change—not in her lifetime, anyways—yet always she saw something new. Tonight she had been distracted by a purple and green wash that spread across the sky in an arc, some distant nebulae that at this scale had seemed nothing more than a wayward brushstroke against the empyrean canvas. 

It was not so simple, of course. Several years ago Applejack could have assumed it was nothing more than a flat smear on the atmosphere, and it wouldn’t have phased her to know she was incorrect about it. But now, with the lessons she had picked up from Luna, she knew that whole stars were being built in that impasto mass. Stars which would help build planets, which could each themselves have their own pony-like creatures busying themselves upon them. A smile touched Applejack’s lips. What if right now, some alien was leaning against something solid and natural, staring down at her?

Did they have apple trees?

A chuckle escaped her, and she turned her attention back to the horizon. A light was breaching around the edge of the world, not one harsh like the sun but gentle, mysterious even. It shone its rays, somehow casting shadows in a still-midnight world, and when at last the source of this light rose up so too did a feeling of warmth in Applejack’s chest. 

The moon was full tonight, because of course it was, this was her dream and she wanted to see it, but all the same she found herself muttering softly in gratitude to the fantasy. It was huge, too, far larger than it would ever be in real life, and it almost pulsed in its soft radiance. 

Applejack closed her eyes, breathed in deep, and sighed heartily. This was what nights were for; relaxation, comfort, beauty. The day was reserved for work and toil, and while she respected it equally, she would admit in a heartbeat that taking things easier was more comfortable than labouring hard, any day. 

She felt a drop of water on her muzzle, and scrunched her face. Rain? In her dream? It had never happened before, and there hadn’t been any imagined clouds soaring to her that she had seen. Another sensation of wet touched her, and she grunted and opened her emerald eyes to find that she was no longer on the hill. She wasn’t even on Sweet Apple Acres anymore, either, though where she actually was she hadn’t a clue.

Panic washed over her while she realized that she was floating high above water—endless, choppy water, water which smashed into itself in aggressive waves and wobbled aimlessly, water which stretched into every direction for what could have been an eternity. After a brief moment of reassurance that she was still dreaming, the earth pony frowned in consternation.

What happened to her dream? It was still night here, but the moon was its regular size, and a waxing crescent—as it was in real life, she realized. The stars were still there too, but they had been dimmed by the lunar presence, and none of the familiar constellations were where Applejack expected to find them, or even there at all. She tried to move around, to call forth something more comfortable, but all her practiced lucid dreaming seemed to be for nothing. She was stuck high in the air over a featureless ocean, cold, damp, and frustrated.

No. Not featureless.

Before her the ocean had started to shake in a more recognizable pattern. Waves rocked back and forth, but overall there was a simple circular motion to them all, and after a minute a harmony had seemed to take over and direct the mass of water to spin.

Applejack watched wordlessly as the sea ceased churning and started spinning and sinking. It was draining down into some unknown area, be it Tartarus or something more physical, and the vortex quickly grew and spread wider and wider. For a brief moment Applejack considered feeling terrified, but realized by virtue of the fact she was still clearly being suspended and could not hear this churning disaster before her that she was dreaming, and so she continued to observe instead. 

After some time, and with how time passes in dreams it could have been a minute or an hour, the swirling void had almost reached the edges of Applejack’s vision. And then, the world shook. She didn’t know how she could tell, being levitated so high, disconnected from this strange dream yet tethered to it all the same. There were no landmarks for her to even see shake, but all the same she knew that an enormous quake, one larger than she had ever felt in her life, was wrenching the earth violently. 

The feeling started to disorientate her, and a light queasiness stirred in her stomach from the sensation. Luckily a landmark quickly appeared from the void, vibrating greatly along with the apparent tremors, and the swirling within her subsided. What had lifted up from the sea seemed to be rather like a temple; evocative of the great buildings up in Cloudsdale, though with pillars of stone and mortar rather than cloud and rainbow. It kept rising, growing ever higher, almost reaching out to Applejack, and with it came a whole island beneath. The massive chunk of land was almost perfectly circular, some flattened cone that bore whatever mystical building this was, covered in grass and sand and trees as if it hadn’t just come from beneath an entire ocean.

When all things settled, when the vortex had calmed and the quaking had subsided, the island had brought itself up to Applejack’s height and deposited her before the ancient and now clearly giant temple. Her hooves met ground—much to her exasperated appreciation—and when they did, a powerful voice rang between her ears. It was not a voice like any creature she had ever heard. It was hollow, almost artificial, somehow both deep and echoing while flighty and soft. It was as the buzzing of bees, the waves crashing upon a shore, the deep hum of a train passing somewhere far in the distance, all of these things all at once and yet none of them ever.

It said simply one thing.


	And find safe passage to the Source.


And then she woke up. 
> Chapter 2
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Ohmigosh ohmigosh ohmigosh, Applejack, wake up, wake up, did you see it too? Did you?”

Applejack opened her eyes, still feeling damp and slightly cold from the world of salt water she had just woken from. She rolled over, following the sound of Twilight Sparkle’s voice to find her bouncing just a couple feet from her bed.

“Oh good! You’re awake! Did you see the Source island? Pleeeease tell me you saw the Source island! You must have, right?”

“Uhm,” Applejack started, blinking sleep from her eyes. Several questions passed through her mind in rapid succession, and only a couple had been about the dream. Most of the remaining ones had to do with the purple alicorn who was practically prancing in place inside her room, eyes beaming, smile wide, looking for all the world as if she had just discovered coffee and then immediately attempted to find the minimum lethal dose of it. She chose her words carefully, and finally spoke to her eager friend. “Good morning, Twilight.”

“Great morning to you, Applejack!” She smiled wide still, and after a brief pause, blinked.

Applejack considered which of her questions she wanted to start with, and then settled on the simplest.

“Why are you in my room?”

Twilight blanched and, looking around as if seeing where she was for the first time, gave a nervous chuckle.

“Oh. Right. I’m just… a little excited, is all. Everypony else is up, well, Rainbow Dash is sleeping again, but I’ve spoken to her already, she was on the way—”

“Alright,” Applejack said, sliding out from under the covers. Twilight stepped back out of the way while Applejack quickly brushed her mane and threw her hat on, rambling on the entire time.

“—and then of course Pinkie Pie doesn’t seem to ever sleep, so I had managed to speak to her before I finally got here. But I’m here! And you’re awake! Did you have the dream?”

Applejack walked out of her room and Twilight quickly followed, her wings twitching while she tried to reign in her excitement. In the hall, Applejack glanced behind her, throwing up an eyebrow.

“I had a dream. Why? Didja do something to me?”

“No, no!” Twilight blushed. “Sorry, Applejack. I guess this is a little abrupt. The temple on the island, in the water. Did you dream it?”

“I did, yeah. Cut right into the middle of a real relaxing thing, too. This some sorta magic hullabaloo we’re all about to get caught up in the middle of? World ending stuff?” She chuckled and winked, and then said a quick hello to the rest of her family who were currently sitting around a full breakfast table, chatting with Spike. 

“Wellll, maybe,” Twilight admitted. While she followed Applejack into the kitchen, her stomach let out a mighty growl.

“I take it you got all antsy pantsy and didn’t even eat this morning, didn’t cha?” Applejack laughed, stepping aside and waving a hoof to direct Twilight in.

“Heheh, uh, yeah,” Twilight tittered, taking a seat next to Spike. He was speaking gleefully with Apple Bloom, who had slid over on the bench to make room for her sister.

“...And Rarity’s said “Directly as the peg’sus fly” which she was pretty mad about, I mean, why cut out part of the word, right?”

“That is a good question,” Apple Bloom agreed, shovelling a pancake into her mouth. “Mine was “Take not our guidance as jesting”. What’s ‘Jesting’ mean, Applejack?”

“Kidding around, acting foolish. You should know, heh,” she said, lightly elbowing Apple Bloom in the ribs. She reached forward and heaped a spoonful of oatmeal into a bowl and started eating. “What’re y’all talking about, anyways?” she asked between mouthfuls.

“Our weird dream last night, with the island!” Spike announced, spraying hay fries as he spoke. “Mine said “And find safe passage to the Source”. Everyone apparently heard something at the end, but it was all different.”

“Oh, that’s what I heard too. Then I woke up.”

Immediately Twilight pulled out a notepad and started furiously writing in it. “So some phrases may be repeated… Interesting, very interesting. Could you tell me about your dream, Applejack? So far everyone I’ve spoken to has described it exactly the same, but I want to make sure there wasn’t any variation between us.”

“So is it just us Elements and our families?”

“It doesn’t appear to be. Seems everypony in town had the same dream last night, though of course it is early and I’ve only managed to ask a couple residents.”

“Huh,” Applejack muttered, frowning. “Well, I was in the middle of a regular dream, just relaxing on the farm and whatnot—”

“Relaxing on the farm?” Apple Bloom said, earning a chuckle from Big McIntosh.

“Oh, button up. I closed my eyes for a second and then I was floating above an endless ocean. The whole thing started spinning and sinking and then after it seemed it had made enough noise, that chunk of rock just sprouted up like an apple tree set on fast forward. I got placed down in front of that Pegasi-built-looking temple or whatever, heard my phrase, and woke up to you bouncing at my bedrest.”

She looked up from her bowl of oatmeal to find Twilight nose-deep in her journal, her magicked quill moving furiously. Applejack raised an eyebrow again, and then resumed her breakfast.

“Well, that’s at least every one of us seven with the exact same dream. And the rest of you, of course,” Twilight said, smiling at the other Apple family members. Her stomach complained one more time and she grabbed a plate with a small stack of pancakes on it.

“So? What is it then? You called it Source Island, right?”

“Mmm.” She took a moment to savor her first bite and then swallowed. “Yes. There’s an old filly’s tale about the Source of all magic in Equus. Legend says that a group of wise ponies hid it away under the earth from all creatures to keep those who would be tempted by its power away. Some of the stories mention a prophecy that when the hiding spell failed, the Source would echo its location to all the world!”

“That’s all you’re going off of? And you’re sure it’s this magic thing?”

“Well, not positively, of course. I’m going to need to do more research. But it does seem to fit. Something rising up out of the earth—”

“Ocean.”

“—to echo its location—”

“Show its appearance.”

“—to all the world!”

“To residents in Ponyville, so far as we know.”

There was a moment of silence while Twilight ate another couple forkfuls and contemplated while chewing.

“Alright,” she admitted, “It’s pretty loosely applied. But I don’t know of anything else that even remotely matches what just happened, and that definitely is something big. You saw how much Luna struggled to maintain a shared dream when we fought the Tantabus. Something that can give potentially the whole country the same dream must be extremely powerful… Perhaps even the source of all magical power!” She beamed at Applejack, giving exaggerated winks.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” she sighed, laughing. “Though providing dreams ain’t nothing like bringing ponies all into one dream. It’s a fairly simple spell.”

Twilight blinked at Applejack.

“...I’ve heard,” Applejack added.

“Didn’t take you one for reading up about dream magic. Or any unicorn magic.”

“You learn things from friends.”

“That you do!” She beamed, fluttering her wings. “I should know better, being Princess of Friendship and everything. Speaking of, thank you all. Those were delicious. The chef at the Castle makes a lot of good food, but nothing compares to Apple family cooking.”

“Eeyup,” Big McIntosh said.

“What did your dream tell you, Big Mac?” Spike asked, licking syrup off his claws. 

The stallion tapped his chin. “Mine said “Hugged by waves of dark mystique”.” He shrugged while Apple Bloom giggled at mystique in a country drawl.

Again Twilight’s notebook zipped up. “Oh, very interesting, that was mine as well. So there’s perhaps significant overlap with these. I really should head back to the Castle library, try to see if I can find any more concrete information.” She looked up at Applejack with a smile. “Or if there’s anything else that explains it that isn’t an old mare’s tale, of course.”

“You haven’t been through all those books yet?”

“I skim a lot of them. Don’t tell anypony,” she whispered loudly, winking at Apple Bloom. “But I’m also prepared to head over to the Crystal Empire and see what their library has.”

“Maybe the Cloudsdale library, too,” Applejack suggested. “That definitely seemed like pegasus construction on the temple to me.”

Twilight shook her head. “It’s close, but it’s older by far. Pegasus architecture is an advancement made on classical, pre-pony designs. You can tell by the pillars, mainly. They’re thinner than the Pegasus style, but spaced closer together to support the same weight of the roof. The Pegasus ones are wide pillared, but further apart, so there’s more room to fly in and out. There’s also the use of volutes and fluting or the lack thereof with the Pegasus style—” 

“You’re saying this temple is older than even ponies exist?” It was Applejack’s turn to shake her head. “Now you’re just spouting nonsense. I thought it was just wild four-leggers until some’a them settled down and started farming.”

“That’s definitely the secondary school version of things, yes, but the ‘wild quadrupeds’ actually had their own civilizations, long before they split into the groups that would become us ponies and the deer and kirins and whatnot. Very little is known about it, but some archaeological sites were found. Coltlantis on the west coast, for example, that sunken city with the giant horse head statue? That was pre-pony.”

“Huh,” was all Applejack could think to say. She started. “So then this thing is really old then, hey? Maybe it is your Source.”

“It’s definitely another reason to start my research! I should get going, though, start doing my research. Who knows how long it’ll be before I figure things out?”

As she went to push back from the table and stand up, a weird look came over Spike’s face. Twilight glanced down, and then jumped back as a flaming belch erupted from the little dragon, almost reaching the rafters of the barn. While Apple Bloom laughed uproariously and rolled off the bench, Twilight grabbed the letter that had appeared and started reading.

Aside from the filly’s mirth, the room was silent, everyone’s eyes focused on the alicorn. Her brow creased after a moment, and then her eyes went wide.

“Well? What’s it say?” Applejack asked, while already thinking to herself that she probably needed to start preparing to leave.

“Dear Princess Twilight,” she read aloud, “By now you should be aware of the shared dream across the planet last night. We know what it is about and must discuss this situation with haste. It is of utmost importance that you travel to Canterlot at once. While urgent, the situation is not dire; you need not disturb your friends from their daily activities yet. If you know of the stories, you likely have realized that it is indeed the reappearance of the Source. We await your audience. Signed, Princess Celestia.” She looked up, jaw loose and words lost. “Applejack it is the Source. Ohmigosh. It’s the Source Applejack, the reason magic exists on Equus in the first place, the whole thing behind my ability to do stuff like hold this letter and for you to grow crops and for Dash to make it rain and—”

Applejack had stood up while Twilight rambled and she stuffed a hoof into her mouth, silencing her.

“Alright, you silly pony. I’ll go grab my bag. I keep one set up just in case for situations like this.”

Twilight gave her head a shake and then smiled, before blanching. “Oh, it said I didn’t need to bother you yet.”

“Y’ain’t bothering me. Harvest season isn’t for fully another month, and it was high time Big McIntosh started showing Apple Bloom some of the more strenuous chores around the farm. Besides, this whole magical artifact majigger ruined a perfectly good relaxing dream for me. This sounds like an important enough excuse to take a break.” She grinned around the room, guffawing at the strange, half-excited, half-dreading noise that slipped from her sister. 

“Well, I mean, if you’re sure, I’d love to have you come along!” Twilight said, embracing Applejack. “I was just, well, the letter said—”

“It sure didn’t say you couldn’t bring any friends.” She closed her eyes briefly while she hugged Twilight, thinking of her sleep last night and the night sky she had so briefly seen. “I reckon you’ll need somepony who’ll listen to you gush about it, anyways.”

“That’s definitely true,” Twilight laughed.
> Chapter 3
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Friendship Express chugged rhythmically and heartily as it rounded Mount Canterlot, and Applejack leaned against the glass, fogging it up with each breath. She was staring at the Castle, with vague thoughts and feelings running back and forth across her mind without much aim or direction. 

Global, magical conspiracies of ancient lore asides, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something big was coming. It was an odd sort of thought to chew on, and she gnawed on it like a corn husk. There’d been plenty of ‘big’ things in her life. Dozens of times the state of the nation or the world was on the edge of crisis and they had been called to defend it or simply shown up regardless. She knew how that heavy feeling of anticipation settled in one’s stomach, how the gravitas of a plan would vibrate in her bones. That was here, too, but it wasn’t alone this time. Now there was a shadow at the back of her brain, shouting at her silently, an anxious little gremlin shaking her brain.

Twilight Sparkle was seated across from her, going over the notes she had compiled from the few ponies in town she had managed to speak to. She was muttering various lines over and over to herself, and scratching notes out just as quickly as she had jotted them down. Applejack sat up straight, pulling her thoughts away from the strange uneasiness that had seeped into her since she had first stepped off of her farmstead.

“Whatcha doing?” She asked, craning her head at Twilight.

“Oh? Oh!” Twilight looked up and then set her notebook down. “Trying to figure out what all those passages mean. From what I’ve gathered, two sets of them end on a rhyme, but the rest of them don’t, and one of the sets makes no sense together. I guess I’m just missing too much data to really make any sense of these yet.”

“A rhyme, huh? You think it’s a poem, or just a coincidence?”

“Oh, these ancient things love riddles, so it’s probably one of those. And you know how much I love riddles, so I can’t really get my mind off it. It’s been like trying to scratch an itch but my leg isn’t long enough to reach it.” She slumped, grimacing. “And there’s this weird feeling on top of it all, like I’m not moving fast enough already.”

Applejack’s ears perked up, and Twilight caught the expression.

“You too, huh?”

“Yeah,” the farmer replied, tilting her stetson back and scratching her chin. “Feels like stage fright, nerves or somethin’. Like I can’t mess up whatever I’m about to do.”

“You, Applejack, nervous?”

Applejack blushed. “Well, that’s kind of y’all, but don’t install me as a statue at your castle just yet. I ain’t stone, things get to me as much as the next pony. Though for some reason this one just has some extra weight to it that I can’t pin down.” She shrugged, looking back out the window as the full breadth of the castle came into view. Her mind drifted, bringing memories of all the times she had been in those hallowed halls, and the occasions that had brought her there.

For once, it would have been nice to visit without an impending disaster, she thought with a grimace.

“I wonder if it’s the Source itself that’s doing this,” Applejack surmised, turning quickly to Twilight.

“How so?”

“It wants to be found, right? Why else would it send such an obvious signal out there? And if it’s wielding this spooky wooky changer-of-the-universe level power, it’s probably making us feel real antsy about getting out there and finding it.”

Twilight considered this, giving a nod that began slow and quickly accelerated. “Yeah, that makes a lot of sense, actually. I’m sure the princesses will know more, they already seem to have a lot of information. I’m really looking forward to meeting with them again! Ooh, it’s so exciting!”

Applejack grinned and resumed leaning against the glass. The train had entered the city proper by now, and so all that she could see of the majestic hanging castle were the tall lavender towers. The sunlight caught on the gold trim and shone painfully into her eyes, and Applejack closed them and breathed steadily instead.

The weather in Canterlot was typical of summer. Cloudless and bright, though the elevation brought a lingering chill that the sun’s rays could not alone defeat. Applejack liked it, the balance of warmth and coolness feeling perfect on her coat. There wasn’t even hardly any wind today, and what breezes that did blow in from the mountaintop were cut short by the rows of houses and shops that surrounded the ancient towers of Canterlot Castle. 

Twilight and Applejack took the direct route to the capitol from the train station, following one of the canals that flowed out from the peak and cut through the city, only to crest and cascade off the courtyard cliffs. Here too Applejack found the light shining bright into her eyes, reflecting off the serene waves of mountain water. Even now in the middle of summer, the water would be freezing, and the sprays carried by the rare gusts tickled her legs. She welcomed it, thankful for the physical distraction from the incessant anxiety that she wasn’t immediately running around the country trying to find a… Well, find something.

There was none of the usual pomp and circumstance of Twilight’s attendance at the castle this time. When the two ponies met the royal guards at the gates, a third guard—a pegasus, seemingly a lieutenant judging by her armor—raced out to greet them.

“Ah, Princess Twilight Sparkle! We were told to expect you. No carpets or fanfare this time, I’m afraid,” she said, bowing and raising so fast it was almost as if she had done a pushup. “Though as I understand it you’re probably fine with that?”

“Ah, Polished Brass, nice to see you again. Yes, that’s fine,” she chuckled awkwardly. “I get it’s procedure and all but really, it’s never necessary…”

“Ah, but what is the point of a royal guard if not to serve royalty?” Polished Brass winked, and then turned to Applejack. “We haven’t met before. Wait wait, don’t tell me. Earth pony, well kempt mane, strong physique. You must be the Element of Honesty, Applejack, yes?”

Applejack took her hat off and did her usual curtsey. “Right on all accounts, ma’am. Pleased to make your acquetence!”

“Acquaintance,” Twilight muttered.

“Hush, you,” Applejack replied.

“All the same, it is correct! But we really must carry on, I have kept you for far too long. I trust you two know the way to the library?”

“The library?” Applejack and Twilight asked at the same time. One of the voices was drenched in excitement, and the other in curiosity.

“Yes, the princesses are awaiting you there instead of the Throne Room. Seemingly this is a matter of high security, so they chose a location less likely to be intruded upon.”

At Twilight’s consternation, Applejack burst into laughter. “Don’t take it personally, Twi. You know the royal library isn’t nearly as big as the city proper’s. Anyways Ms. Brass, we sure as sugar know the way. Thanks for your help today,” she said, guiding a steaming Twilight away from the guard. 

“Less likely?!” Twilight grunted once they passed the large doors to the castle. “There must be some mistake. How could a library not be popular? I just—”

“Deep breaths now, that’s it, let it out. We’ll visit the Crystal Empire’s library when we’re done whatever it is we need to do now. Promise. You’ll get to see all them books getting properly cared for and read. Easy girl, come on now.”

Her calming reassurance lasted them throughout the dozen hallways and stairways they had to traverse until finally coming to the aforementioned room. 

“Imagine meeting in an apple orchard!”

“Don’t make this personal now!”

“Twilight, it’s so good to see you.”

At the sight of Princess Celestia, all frustration vanished from Twilight’s face, and she lit up like a Hearth’s Warming tree. Celestia was sitting near one of the many lecterns that peppered the small library, an old and tattered looking tome open before her. While Twilight pranced forward, Applejack entered slowly, taking in her surroundings.

It was awfully cramped in here. She suspected it would have been dusty, too, though the rays of light coming through the large stained glass window at the end of the room revealed it was at least cleaned along with the rest of the castle. To the right side of the room were several corridors of bookshelves that reached all the way up to the vaulted ceiling. On the left were more of the same, though in the middle of it all a spiralling marble staircase reached up to the floor above. And that was really about it. There was nothing else in the room except for books, shelves, and the three ponies, and Applejack quickly caught up with the other two.

“Applejack, it is delightful to see you as well. I suspect,” she said, giving a quick sly grin to Twilight, “that you were by when she received my missive?”

“Right on the snout, your Highness.”

“Well, I am pleased to have you here all the same. Your input will be just as valued, I assure you.”

Twilight settled down on a velvet pillow that rested near the lectern. “So what’s going on, Princess? I had my suspicions that it was the Source when I first woke up, and started compiling some notes on it, but I haven’t really figured anything concrete out. Applejack and I were actually discussing what else it might have been when we got your letter.”

Applejack nodded. “Yup. I wasn’t really sold on it, but then again I hadn’t ever heard of anything like it before.”

Celestia observed the two with her usual stoic expression, an unchanging half-glare that seemed to radiate compassion and disinterest all the same. Applejack wondered if it was something she had always done, or if it was some political poker face, practiced over a thousand years to never give away anything too soon.

“Tell me,” the white alicorn said, “What do you know about the Source then, Twilight?”

She perked up and started speaking, unable to hold back her giddiness. “The Source is the origin of all magical energy on Equus! Eons ago a group of sages discovered it themselves, and realized that the temptation to use the Source for evil would be too great to control. As such they cast a spell to bury the Source in an unknown location for an unknown amount of time. When it arises again, all the world would ring with its coming!”

Celestia nodded. “Anything else?”

“Er.” Twilight faltered, her ears drooping. “Uh, no, I guess? I think really it was a foal’s book I had read about it in. A Thousand Tales for Tiny Tails.”

Celestia closed the huge book in front of her and magicked it up back onto a shelf high above them. “So far nothing you’ve said is incorrect, as far as anypony knows of course. The problem with researching events that happened before the invention of our language, or the dead languages it’s built off of, are that there’s very little written down and even less of it that can be presumed to be accurate. All the same we do have some attested records in the library.

“What we know is that the Source is immensely powerful. Unbelievably so. Imagine having the power to wish for anything, with no rules or strings attached. Whatever you so desire, instantaneously made true. By physically channeling the Source, anything can be made possible; be it an infinite supply of real bits, the complete obedience of any and every creature, the eradication of entire ecological systems… One could even create a new planet if they so wished.

“It’s incredibly important that we find and obtain the Source before anyone else has the opportunity to do so. Equestria has noble goals, but this is not something we can rest so easily assured that any other faction will be the same. I have summoned you here so we can plan an expedition to go get it.”

Twilight and Applejack looked at each other, the same question exchanged between them with a glance. Twilight spoke up, asking it first.

“What exactly does Equestria plan to do with a source of infinite power?”

A tiny smile spread on Celestia’s lips. “Much like one often fantasizes about winning a lottery and what they would purchase with the bits, we have long considered and debated this very idea. We would infuse it into the Tree of Harmony, allowing its influence to reach the world and ensure peace and security for time eternal.”

Twilight tossed her head back and forth, thinking, before finally shrugging. “I can’t really think of any drawbacks or downsides to that, no. Seems noble enough to me.” She glanced at Applejack to find her brow furrowed. “What about you? Something wrong?”

“Not with the plan, no, I think that’s all fine and dandy enough myself. But I gotta ask, why would the sages cast a hiding spell that pins a bright ol’ beacon plum onto the thing they were trying to hide in the first place? Makes no sense to me, not a lick.”

“It is not the sage’s spell that has called out into the void,” a new voice came from the stairway. Applejack snapped her gaze over as soon as she heard it, her mouth dropping open in awe before she caught it and closed it.
> Chapter 4
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Princess Luna walked down the steps quietly, her resting face just as serious and unimpressed as it always was. She was carrying a different text with her magic, one that appeared to be even older than the one Celestia had been reading from. When the alicorn reached the bottom of the staircase she sat down gracefully on one of the cushions and gave a curt nod to Twilight. When her eyes fell on Applejack, she shared a smile with the earth pony, and then continued.

“The Source is not some lump of coal nor enchanted idol. It is magic incarnate, an entity of omnipotence. It is not correct to call it sentient, though I do not believe there is a word that could adequately describe the form of consciousness it would have. Certainly it’s nothing that any of us could understand.

“The sages did well to hide it for so long, but neutral as it may be, the Source affects all. It cast out its call to the world, telling every creature upon it that it has returned, and whereupon it may be found if needed or desired.”

She finished, and her words hung in the air for a moment between the four of them. 

“So then this thing wants to be found, then?” Applejack asked, shifting in her spot to grab a cushion and finally sitting down. 

“It would appear to be so, though yet again, it’s not particularly a mind that we can anticipate nor interpret with ease.” She smiled again. “I did indeed receive your latest letter, Applejack. My apologies for not responding any sooner. When we are finished here I would love to discuss the matter in person with you, if you wished.”

Applejack’s ears flicked up subconsciously and she straightened her posture. “Aw, shucks, that’d be mighty fine!” she said, while a light rush of warmth filled her cheeks. She turned and caught both Celestia and Twilight looking at her. Twilight was squinting with a question on her tongue, but as her mouth opened to ask it Celestia spoke up.

“Whatever the reason for the message going out to the world, it has gone out all the same, and as such it is all but guaranteed that other groups and individuals will start their pursuits of the Source. Some of them may be physically closer than us, as well, and so it is vital that we organize an expedition as soon as possible.”

Twilight tore her gaze from Applejack and looked to Celestia with concern. “I’m ready to leave whenever, as I’m sure any of my friends are as well, but how do we even know where we’re going?”

A blue glow tinted the room while Luna’s magic flared to life, lifting the tome she had brought with her up above the four of them. It spun in place and flashed once, before blue hoofwriting appeared in the air, large and bright for all of them to see.

“The last recovered notes of the final living sage,” Luna started reading, “are long crumbled to ash. Yet recollection and stories survive to this day, passed along from mother to child, teacher to student, town drunk to traveller. Multitudes of theories abound about the Source and its fabled location, though none share anything in common that could lead anyone to even the beginning of a trail. All searches have been in vain except to find more lore, more myth, more guesses and suspicions. There is, however, one commonality.

“Within the hundred different versions of the Source’s return that we have heard throughout our research, all of them shared two very distinct concepts. The first was that the reappearance would ring throughout the world, and the second was that all would awake the next morning with its call still echoing within. More than half of the stories went on to say that it was not so much a call that would echo but a song, some verse or poem, and a single line would be recalled by each creature. Some of the oldest recorded tales which mention this state that the song would be directions to its resting place.”

She cut the spell and closed the book, setting it down on a nearby desk.

“So the phrases we all heard right before we woke up…” Twilight started, her eyes widening and excitement washing over her face.

“Are likely part of a poem, a riddle of sorts, yes,” Luna nodded.

Twilight leapt up and practically danced about the room, her wings fluttering in excitement. “Oh this is wonderful! We get to solve a riddle to take us to the magical artefact! It’s just like in some of my favorite books! All we need are all the lines.” She paused in her pacing, and swung quickly back around to face Celestia with shock.

“Yes, Twilight?”

“But we don’t know them all! Or even how many there’s supposed to be! Or what order they go in once we do get them all. We’d have to go interview most the country if we wanted to be reasonably certain we hadn’t missed some line that showed up more infrequently than the others! And hope that by the time we get to the ponies who dreamed it they still remember exactly what the phrase was, and… And then we might be too late, maybe other creatures would figure it out before us? What—”

Celestia stood from her cushion and placed a hoof on Twilights shoulder, stopping her rambling and gently—yet firmly—pressing down until Twilight sat, her eyes wide and awkward.

“You are correct we don’t know what order they go in, though I think you and I should do well in figuring it out. But as for your other concerns, dear Twilight,” Celestia paused, turning to look at her sister with a devious grin, who replied with one very much the same.

It was Applejack’s turn to jump out of her seat. “We’ve got ourselves our very own Princess who walks through dreams like I do trees!” She kicked in celebration, earning a giggle from the alicorn across from her.

“Correct! Last night while the kingdom slept I was performing my duties, when even I was wrenched aside into the Source’s dream. Obviously this brought me a great deal of concern, and I slipped immediately back into the dream realm to investigate what had occurred. I was shocked to suddenly find everypony dreaming, even those who were not prior, and each of them the same.

“In my course to find the culprit I visited as many dreams as I could, observing them. When it became clear to me that these visions were not harmful, I turned my attention to the phrases that were announced by the temple before the bubbles were collapsed and I was ejected.”

“How many dreams were you able to observe, Princess?” Twilight asked, still obviously concerned about the sample size. Luna rolled her eyes playfully in recognition of this.

“Suffice to say it was enough, and I can tell you with confidence that I know every verse of the poem. All of them rhyme with at least 3 others, though I could not ordain the order from my hasty surveillance. I have written them down here for you and Celestia to ponder over,” she added, and with a puff of blue magic a tightly wound scroll materialized and floated over to Twilight, who grabbed it eagerly and quickly unwound it.

“Twilight and I will begin immediately,” Celestia said, finally raising her hoof off of her student. “I believe you said you had something you wished to discuss with Applejack, sister?”

“It is more that she had something she wished to discuss with me,” Luna replied, standing up and walking next to Applejack. She offered a hoof and Applejack accepted it, letting herself be pulled to her hooves while failing to hide a blush.
> Chapter 5
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Luna and Applejack both stood side by side in the cramped little study across the hall from the library. They were focused on a chalkboard in front of them, and while Luna magicked her chalk over it, Applejack listened and focused intently.

“...known as a supernova.”

“So like a nova, but, heh, super?”

This earned her a coy smile. “Precisely, Applejack. Many elements in Equus’ crust come from events such as these, where the intense gravity and nuclear forces smash atoms into even heavier ones.”

She set the chalk down and then lifted up a new scroll, a dark blue picture with a myriad of dots and lines on it.

“Do you recognize this?” Luna asked.

“That’s uh, Magnus’ Shield constellation, right?” Applejack responded, unsure. It had been quite a while since their lesson on constellations.

“Correct as well. The “new star” that you believed you had found and wrote to me about is not new at all, actually. It’s regularly unobservable by eye, but it’s the fourth star from the peak, here…” she paused, picking her chalk up and and replicating the constellation on the board before putting a large cross over the star in particular. “This one that you identified.”

“Aww, shucks, so it weren’t no new discovery after all.” Applejack pulled her hat off and rubbed it against her chest, feeling a weirdly heightened embarrassment. When a hoof rested on her withers, she froze and felt once again that rush of blood to her cheeks.

“On the contrary, dear Applejack, it is a stellar discovery.” Luna was silent for a moment before she snorted, which brought both of them to light laughter.

“Y’know Princess, I don’t think Twilight would believe me if I told her how much you liked puns.”

The hoof on Applejack’s back rubbed back and forth before pulling her in, and Luna hugged her lightly for a small moment. “She probably wouldn’t believe me if I told her how much you knew about space. Twilight knows much and observes even more, though sometimes I believe she gets too absorbed on what she thinks is important to notice the finer details. Details, like when a star in a constellation has gone supernova.”

“So it was important?”

“Very much so. Our astronomers had missed it as well, though in all fairness the Royal observatory is hindered by a mountain peak on the southern side. While these sort of events are considered frequent, it’s frequent on a cosmological scale, and therefore to be able to observe and record data on a supernova that’s so bright and close… it’s really the chance of a lifetime. I must thank you for writing to me.”

“You’re more than welcome! Thank you for teaching me! I’ve gotta say, when I was in school I was always itching to get back to the farm, frustrated with the teachers making me feel stupid for not getting things immediately. But you’ve really made learning about space and astronomy just so interesting!”

It was Luna’s turn to blush. “You are kind, Applejack.” 

She looked up to the star chart and closed her eyes, suffusing the room with blue magic once again, and Applejack’s eyes spread wide in wonder as the image of Magnus’ Shield shimmered to life before them. Applejack noticed that the walls and floor had also slid away into nothing, and it was as if Luna had teleported the two of them to the edge of the atmosphere in the middle of the night, looking up upon the actual constellation. Her jaw dropped wide, and a soft whoah escaped her lips as an infinite number of stars and stellar gas surrounded them.

“Though I am adamant that it is not me who makes celestial study fascinating, but the universe itself. One does not need to be a scholar to appreciate the beauty of the night,” Luna said. While she spoke, Applejack focused on her face, and silently agreed with her. “I do appreciate hearing that you enjoy my lessons regardless. Your interest in the subject alone makes the work worthwhile, and of course,” she said, catching Applejack’s staring eye and turning to meet it, “it is your appreciation that brought us together in the first place.”

The shimmer around her horn stopped and abruptly the two found themselves back in the cramped study, lit only by the flickering torch on the wall now and no longer bathed in interstellar light.

Luna thought for a moment, her face tilted up, before she nodded and smiled, and then leaned down and placed a quick kiss on Applejack’s nose.

“I believe that should count as an adequate thank you,” she said, giggling at the mirthful shock that had overcome Applejack.

“Hoowha. Whahue. Ih… Wha? Oh, uh…” Applejack blinked a few times, smooshed her hat back down onto her head, and then looked back at the chalkboard and tried and failed to appear deep in thought on the descriptions and drawings upon it. “...Yes,” she said, giving up and tilting her hat down over her grin, “That’s a mighty fine thank you, Princess.”

Luna giggled and then started packing up the materials she had brought out. “Anyway. The reason I had not gotten back to you yet was because we had organized a team to go to the secondary observatory in the San Palomino desert. We wanted to confirm it was correct before I responded to you with the good news, but they had just returned this morning and by then…” She trailed off while Applejack nodded sardonically. 

“Then the world turned itself upside down.”

“An impossible occurrence, but your metaphor is sound, yes.”

There was a knock at the door, and a guardstallion poked his head in shortly after. “Princesses Celestia and Twilight wanted me to inform you that they have finished, your Highness.”

“Excellent,” Luna said, standing up and dusting the small amount of chalk that had settled on her coat off. “Well, Applejack? Shall we find just how upside down Equus is?”
> Chapter 6
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Twilight was bouncing.

It wasn’t so much Pinkie Pie-style bouncing as far as Applejack was concerned, but there was definitely no other way to describe it than bouncing. She rocked back and forth on all four hooves, as if somehow she had been storing momentum and was just waiting for physics to catch back up with her so she could rocket off into the distance.

When the two of them had returned to the library, Celestia was standing off by the stained-glass window and lightly shaking her head at Twilight while laughing quietly. Twilight was in the center of the room, at a lectern, her nose deep in the book while her body vibrated. At the sound of the door opening, the alicorn zipped up from her work and grinned ecstatically.

“Oh, this was so much fun. I love riddles. And this was such a riddle! There were these words that rhymed at the end of the sentence, and it looked like there were 5 sets of 3 rhyming lines, but then Celestia realized that the synonyms made this fascinating pattern if you spread one particular set of rhyming lines out between them all! So then we figured out the general order of the lines and fit the fifth set in where it made sense both in context of the poem and for the syllable count and we figured it out!”

“That’s, uh, great, Twilight!” Applejack said, walking up and patting her on the back.

There was a moment while Twilight stared gleefully into Applejack’s eyes.

“...I’m guessing you want me to ask you how you figured out the order the stanzas went overall, right?” Applejack said, smirking.

“You bet your bits I do! So the first set of syllables was seven—”

“Perhaps we can hear the poem first, Twilight,” Celestia interjected, blinking prettily.

“...Right!” Twilight shook her head, took a few deep breaths, and then cleared her throat and started to recite.


Hugged by waves of dark mystique


A white bird of peace lay nesting. 


Start your journey upon its beak


To find the prize you now seek.



Keep starboard true to where sun sets


And your voyage shall not be testing. 


Upon the portside cast eyes like nets


Until you catch the crimson steppes. 



Below the ascendant mountain high


Take not our guidance as jesting


Directly as the peg’sus fly


Follow Coltlantis’s seaward eye. 



If true you’ve followed all our course


You’re almost done with questing


Seek those frozen lands introrse 


And find safe passage to the Source. 


“What does introse mean?” Applejack asked.

“Introrse. It means to curve inward.”

“Oh, okay. So we need to travel to where there’s ice that curves inward?”

“That encompasses both poles of Equus, Applejack,” Luna said, tapping her chin. “Likely it is a specific set of instructions to be followed to ensure we get to the correct location. We could attempt to determine the end location, but it sounds to me like steps to be followed instead of directions in general.”

“I had come to the same conclusion,” Celestia agreed. “While we may indeed lose a little bit of time by not going directly to where we think the Source temple is supposed to be, there may be specific, physical clues at each location listed within the poem.”

“So if not where we end up, where do we start?” Applejack asked, peering over the open book Twilight had read from. “Hugged… by waves of dark… mystique.”

“There’s a couple locations that could be, though I would hazard to assume it must be a water body that connects with one of the Frozen Wastelands. From what we know of those…” Celestia trailed off, pulling a long scroll off the top of one of the shelves and spreading it open. It was a map of Equestria, though it extended slightly into the Undiscovered West and all the way east to Griffinstone. “There’s our seas, and then the Into The Unknown passageway through the Frozen North. There’s also the Dragonland’s southern shores, and a few other smaller water bodies that could count…” She furrowed her brow, a rare view for Applejack of the Princess of Sun being unsure. “And then from there they need to have a bird of peace? That would make me think of the Dragonlands, with their birds of paradise.”

“Dark mystique,” Applejack muttered aloud again, her gaze drifting. She caught the sight of Luna, who was just as occupied in consternation as her sister. She watched her mane billow and sway in a nonexistent breeze, watched stars and nebulae twist and warp gently by, fading in and out of the inky purple background of space.

It was all very mysterious, she thought. Then she blinked, and looked back to the other two.

“One’a the Luna Oceans,” Applejack said.

There was a pause then to allow the shifting of trains of thought, the briefest of moments passing while the princesses in the room considered her suggestion.

“Dove Island!” Luna shouted, leaping up into the air. “Dove Island in the South Luna Ocean!” She took a moment to realize they were all staring up at her, watching her float near the top of all the bookshelves. Clearing her throat, she gently brought herself back down to her seat. “It’s not marked on the map very well, because only one of our expeditions had gone out there, but it’s there. Towards the northern shore, about halfway,” she continued, highlighting the small white blob in discussion on the map with a small ring of magic. “They say it was shaped like a perched dove.”

Applejack walked up close to the map, inspecting it. It appeared to be the same distance away from Equestria as Appleoosa was from Ponyville.

“That’s a big ocean,” she admitted.

“It is. It cannot be crossed by flight, and as such we shall need to organize a ship,” Celestia said, already bringing a quill and scroll up to begin the order.

“I suppose we should go get packed then, eh Twilight?”
> Chapter 7
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So what was that little rendezvous between you and Luna all about? I mean, if I can ask. It didn’t seem like a secret, I guess, but I suppose now it might have been one, so maybe I should just stop talking.” Twilight cringed a little bit, blushing at her perceived misstep. “I just was curious, was all.”

Applejack didn’t respond immediately, but it was not out of thought. She was chewing on a rather exorbitant sandwich, a flower one that must have had at least half the royal gardens thrown into it. It was good, of course; the dozen different colourful petals had all brought their essences of tartness and fragrance, and balanced well with the sweet seasoning of pollen. It was just a huge pain to chew through, was all.

She rolled her head in apology and continued munching, looking around the room while Twilight offered a polite “Take your time”. The Canterlot Castle’s kitchen was massive, and she traced pillars of limestone all the way from floor to ceiling, marvelling at them. These weren’t polished marble, being in the maintenance side of the building, but all the same the chiselled bricks were imposing and impressive. Behind the huge wooden tables where Twilight and Applejack were sitting, a dozen different ponies were rushing back and forth, hauling trays of fresh bread and pastries out of roaring ovens, shouting orders around crates of hay and vegetables, chopping selections of fruits up with such well timed and practiced knife movements it had almost made a song. It was a lot to take in for the farmer, and she shirked back to Twilight while finally swallowing her bite. 

“Aw, it’s nothin’ special. She’s been teaching me all about stars and whatnot. Constellations, astronomy, a little bit’a physics I suppose. Just enough to understand what’s going on on the larger scale of things.”

The grin that spread across Twilight’s face was the largest one Applejack had ever seen on her, rivalling the ones that Rainbow Dash would sport whenever she spoke to a Wonderbolt. Applejack thought momentarily about how she still smiled like that, despite being a Wonderbolt, and gave a small snort of laughter.

“Ohmigosh Applejack you didn’t tell me you were fascinated by space! I could have taught you! Oh I have so many charts for you to memorize and all these textbooks I can loan you—”

She noticed Applejack’s cringing smile, her telltale expression of “I’m really not interested in that idea but I respect you so I’m going to listen anyways”, and interrupted herself.

“Ooorrrrr, you could maybe stick with Princess Luna, who’s obviously found a teaching method that works very well for you.”

“No offense, Twilight, I would appreciate any info I can get on it, but you’re right on the bits there. We’ve only met about a dozen times over the last two years, back at the farm, and she brings the sky to life with her magic. Actually shows me what she means. Zooms in on particular things, or at least makes it look like she’s zoomed in on it. Less reading and more like… field trips.” She nodded, happy with the metaphor. “Book learning’s always been frustrating for me.”

“No offense taken. I’m just happy to know you’re studying something that we both share interest in.” She took a bite of her own meal, a plate of hay fries that were somehow more exquisitely prepared than the Botanical Special Sandwich Applejack had received. “So how’d that even start, anyways?” she asked between mouthfuls.

“Well, usually after a hard day’s work, I ain’t one to just leap straight into bed and fast forward to the next day of labour. It don’t do you no good to spend all your time tending to nature without actually enjoying the… well, the fruits of it,” she laughed. “Anyways, there’s been plenty a’night when we’ve gotten the last cart stored away and the barn door latched after the sun’s set, and I ain’t about to give up on tradition just cause it’s dark out.

“So on those occasions I’d sit on our little bench outside the house and just take in the night. Look up at the stars, see the moonlight filtering through the trees, take in the smells of the cooling grass. Well, there came a time when the Crown chose Sweet Apple Acres to supply one of the Galas with food. Princess Luna personally came to inspect the farm, though she said she had ulterior motives after that inspection was quickly finished.”

“Oh?” Twilight asked through a full mouth.

“Yeah. Said she could feel the appreciation of the night, and, well, appreciated it. She wanted to thank me for taking the time to enjoy the result of her hard work, as much as she was about to enjoy the results of mine. We got to talking about what exactly it was that I liked the most and that led us to the lessons.” Applejack shrugged before picking apart her sandwich and grabbing a small bunch of flowers from the center. She ate them fast, happy to get some food in her a bit quicker.

“Well, I’m happy for you. Really, that’s wonderful!”

“Phanks,” Applejack replied, her own mouth now full of petals.

They continued to eat in relative silence, looking about the room every now and then as troupes of courtesans rushed in to grab snacks and treats for whatever occasion happened to be occurring—often to the chagrin of the wooden spoon-threatening chefs, who would shout and chase them before catching some pot that had begun to boil over. Twilight laughed when this happened, and Applejack only shook her head.

When at last the plates had been finished and bellies had been filled, Twilight tapped the table absentmindedly, appearing to be struggling with some internal debate. Applejack looked at her quizzically, to which she replied with a sigh.

“So, uh, are you two dating?”

Applejack’s laugh echoed off the vaulted ceiling, earning annoyed looks from the chefs. 

“Oh, that’s a good one Twi, that really is,” Applejack said finally, wiping a tear from her eye. “Me, dating a half-goddess? ‘Lil ol’ farmer me, cuddling with the Avatar of Night herself?” She resumed her laughter, a rolling set of ‘hyuks’ that quickly pulled Twilight into the laugh herself.

“Alright, okay, you don’t need to be mean about it,” she said, giggling. “Don’t sell yourself so short though. ‘‘Lil ol’ farmer you’ has also helped save the world at least three times, nevermind the hundreds of other ponies who you’ve individually assisted. And don’t set her on so high a pedestal. Sure, she might be nigh-immortal and anciently wise, but aside from that she’s just as much a pony as you or I.”

“Sure, sure. But no, Twilight, it’s just studying together.”

“Okay then.” There was another small yet extended gap in conversation between the two, and after looking about the kitchen one last time, Twilight continued. “Soooo, uh. What are you going to do now?”

It was not about Luna, Applejack knew. The question was delivered to her with a sense of gravitas, a sort of quiet hesitance that carried a heavier purpose than idle gossip. Twilight was talking now about the plan they had developed after figuring out the poem.

The decision to go was not a difficult one on its own; regardless of how they organized it, Applejack was positive she would be setting out on yet another adventure in her life. If she hadn’t gone, and things didn’t work out, she would have blamed herself in perpetuity. She tried not to think about things not working out if she did go, but, at least she would be able to say she tried.

The difficulty came instead from the proposal that Celestia had put forth shortly after Twilight and Applejack began building a plan together. Given the intensely secretive nature of their quest, and the importance that others not find out they knew where they were going, Celestia had suggested that only one of the elements go. Sending them all was out of the question; anypony knew that the six of them heading anywhere with loaded saddlebags meant it was time to do some stocking up at the store and perhaps make sure your insurance is all renewed. As well, if a disaster were to occur at home, they would all be half a world away.

A couple of them could go, no more than two, but in discussion they all ended up agreeing that really only one of them would be necessary, and would be the least suspicious. It couldn’t be Twilight, as the disappearance of a princess would tip off any astute character in their groups of imagined enemies. And so they moved on, starting to discuss their other friends while trying to think about their fit with the mission as honestly as possible. Sure, Rainbow Dash would be dependable in retrieving the Source and bringing it home, but her brashness and carelessness might impede the ships crew or even lead to the Source being lost. Fluttershy might give it away if given a good enough reason too. They had moved on to discussing Rarity when Applejack had offered herself.

And why not, she thought. Just like she had told Twilight earlier, there wasn’t much she was needed for on the farm and Apple Bloom was able to help out far more than years prior. She was strong, worldly, and dependable. Perhaps not being able to cast spells might even make transporting the Source easier, for all they knew.

Applejack ruminated over all of this while absentmindedly wiping her muzzle with a hoof. Maybe it was foolish, running off by herself with no notice. Maybe it was a mistake.

Maybe things were getting a little bit boring these days. 

“Well, first thing’s first,” she finally replied, “will be popping home to grab extra travelling supplies and let them all know what’s up. You know they can be trusted just as much as me,” she said, interrupting Twilight. “Don’t you worry your royal behind one bit about that.”

“Hey!”

“You were thinkin’ it!”

“Fair enough. And then where are you headed?”

“It’s two days by train to Seaward Shoals, and as I understand it they’ll have a ship prepared by the time I get there. Did you know we have a navy?”

“You just said I was royalty. Of course I knew that.”

“Did you know before you got your wings?”

Twilight gave a cold stare at Applejack, who chuckled. 

“Well, I didn’t. I’m guessing it ain’t that big, anyways, but we’ll be heading out on one of those. Being military and all should keep us from being accosted by any of the more eager mean-types on the ocean.”

“It’s not really big, no. There’s six ships, last I recall being briefed on it. They don’t really go far from Equestria all that often, either, mainly patrolling the trade routes along the coasts and to Griffinstone.” She noticed Applejack turn slightly worried. “They’re all trained just as diligently as the royal guard! I joined in on an inspection once a few years back, and I didn’t see a single pony there who didn’t know what they were doing.”

Applejack shrugged. “I suppose I’ll have to find out.” She looked around and finally found a tall grandfather clock nestled in an alcove to the side of the dining area, and grunted when she found the time. “I suppose I’ll have to be heading out here too. You taking the train back with me?”

“Unfortunately not,” Twilight said, standing up and quickly teleporting to the opposite side of the table, next to Applejack. “We’re going to be doing a bit more research on the Source, see if we can’t learn anything useful before your ship departs. I might even head out to the Crystal Empire library, still.” She wrapped a hoof around Applejack’s back and brought her in close, hugging her hard. “I’m gonna miss you. Stay safe, alright?”

Applejack smiled warmly and returned the hug, patting Twilight’s back. “I’ll be fine. Should be a few day’s journey to Dove Island, and then from there who knows, but say a month later I should be back in Ponyville, with the power to unravel space and time in the frog of my hoof.” 

“When you say it like that, it makes me worry a little bit.”

“Hey, just imagine, Twilight… Trees that harvest themselves… and regrow new apples in a day! All with just a thought.”

“Don’t you dare!”

Applejack hugged Twilight one final time before standing up and hefting her saddlebags into place. “You know I wouldn’t. Something not right about apples that move all on their own. You take care, Twi. It’s time for this Apple to hustle on down to the train station.”
> Chapter 8
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sudden return and just as sudden goodbye at Sweet Apple Acres had gone far more pleasantly than Applejack expected. Not one of her three family members gave so much as a start at the suggestion that she was going to be heading off suddenly on an indeterminably long trip. Big McIntosh had even already prepared a heavier, sturdier saddlebag for her with a couple week’s worth of rations and various tools, such as her rope, cooking utensils, and even a spare stetson.

It wasn’t that they weren’t all sad to see her go, but by now Applejack supposed they had gotten rather used to her vanishing for weeks at a time after trips to the castle. Apple Bloom was probably the most affected of the three, though Applejack gave a snort of laughter while recalling just how terrible her little sister was at hiding her excitement she would still get to do more around the farm.

Something genetic about Apples desperate to do hard work, she supposed. It would explain why she eagerly volunteered to cross half the planet in search of some magical doohickey with hardly a moment’s thought. She thought of Granny Smith, too, and took solace in the fact that despite her age, she was as healthy as ever. There was really nothing at all to worry about at home so, after sitting down for one final lunch—also prepared ahead of time in anticipation of her departure—she had hugged each of them and then set out, leaving heavy hoofprints in the dusty road all the way down to the train station.

She grunted, and shifted from where she lay down to watch the scenery move by. Train travel for a few hours was one thing. Being stuck in one compartment for almost two days was another, and she was glad to see the smatterings of evergreens start to appear out of the dead desert to the south; signs that Seaward Shoals was close now, and her trip was almost over.

For another to begin, of course. But at least she wouldn’t need to deal with the constant vibration of train on track pestering her rump much longer.

Asides from the monotony and the sitting, the ride had gone smoothly. Applejack had spent the time reminiscing throughout the journey. Thoughts of adventures in the Everfree forest had occupied her mind while the train rounded that menacing grove. The long bridge over Ghastly Gorge had her thinking about when Rainbow Dash first met Tank. Appaloosa had its own plethora of memories attached to it, and Applejack had felt a little tug on her heart when she had to stay on the train at that stop. 

The southern jungles of Equestria brought to mind thrilling tales of adventure and mayhem, almost all of which were stories told to her by Dash and Twilight while they gushed about whatever latest Daring Do story they had finished reading, and beyond them was unfamiliar territory, though the endless desert before her hadn’t inspired any desire for adventure there. If she was going to need to cross one featureless length of land, she’d gladly take the cool ocean over dead sand.

“Seaward Shoals!” came the announcement over the speakers. “Seaward Shoals, and end of the line!”

Applejack chuckled quietly to herself as the tall, stilted buildings started swiftly zipping by the window. End of the line for the train, sure. Just the beginning for herself.

The train screeched to a stop near the outside of the town, the sudden deceleration rolling Applejack back a little bit from where she lay. When at last the telltale hiss of steam from the application of brakes had sounded, she stood up slowly, shaking out her stiff legs. She had done a little walking back and forth through the cabooses, but it was a far cry from the regular workout she’d have gotten on the farm. 

A mare walked by and stuck her head into Applejack’s cabin. 

“Oh, good, you’re awake dear. This is the end of the line, and you will need to depart.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I’m just grabbing my stuff.”

The attendant nodded. “It is appreciated. From this point on you will need a new ticket to travel with us.”

The speaker crackled to life again.

“Final stop, Seaward Shoals. The current time is five-thirty in the evening, and the current weather is pleasant. Sunny skies, warm air, cool breeze. Please watch your legs and hooves while exiting the vehicle.”

“Thank you for taking the Friendship Express!” the mare chirped, stepping aside for Applejack who—after tipping her hat—quickly made her way to the door and hopped down onto the platform.

She hit the humidity in the air like a brick wall, and gasped. What was apparently “warm air” here was stifling, and as she immediately felt her coat become slick with a sweat that would not evaporate, she frowned.

“So this is Seaward Shoals, huh?” she muttered, flicking her tail absentmindedly as if she could somehow scare away the sweltering heat. 

It was a fairly busy town for how out of the way it was, she noticed. It did make sense, being a port town and all, but with the distance from here to Canterlot Applejack hadn’t actually been expecting the hustle and bustle about her. 

Tall, colourful buildings of purples and yellows surrounded her, their aging lumber obscured by coat upon coat of the paint designed to combat and protect from the constant assault of salt-water spray. Most of the buildings were simply constructed; four walls and a peaked roof, with a door in the center and two windows on each side. If anything, the wide range of colours served to differentiate one abode from the next—a fact which Applejack felt was wonderfully practical. 

Other buildings were more fancy. Gables reached out to the sea, their balconies decorated with dozens of plant pots and creeping ivy, with gorgeous trim about the bannisters. Below the stilts each house rested on were rolling, mossy rocks, interspersed with patches of vividly green grass. The dark boulders reached all the way down to the ocean, where a large dock was floating and a dozen or so ships were anchored. She couldn’t make any figures out from her vantage point, but from the constant movement of small shapes it looked busier than an anthill.

Beyond the city the boulders started to form into bedrock, and moss turned into grassland which turned to the thick, bushy forest she had seen on her way in. Beyond it to the south lay the desert. 

Applejack stood still on the platform, taking it all in. The immediately unbearable heat. The overwhelming odour of fish and algae, carried by a wind which did so little to counter the sickly warmth surrounding her it felt almost insulting. The creaking, flaking buildings and the families that flitted in and out of them with baskets and bundles. From nearby, behind the train station, she could hear the tell-tale murmur of a market, and judging by the shouts and shrieks that interspersed the buzz of distant conversation she could tell that children were enjoying their summer vacation with veracity.

It was delightful, she decided. She hadn’t really paid much attention to the place the last time she was here, what with how bad a mood she was at that time, but with a clearer mind she was glad she took the time to actually see what was so wonderful about the place. It helped lessen that strange, ever-present pressure to keep searching for the Source which had been bugging her gently the entire ride here.

“Applejack?”

The voice came from behind her, and she turned with curiosity more than anything else. Before her was that same guard from earlier.

“Oh, hey there! Lieutenant Brass, was it? Fancy meeting you again so soon all the way out here.”

“It’s no coincidence, I’m sure you’ve guessed. I was to meet you here and bring you to the Croupiere. She’ll be your home for the next little bit, and we’d like you to get acquainted with your quarters as soon as possible.”

“Mighty appreciated, that,” Applejack replied, hefting her saddlebag up and nodding for Polished Brass to lead the way. “Do you know whenabouts we take off?”

“I believe the plan is at sunrise tomorrow morning, but the captain will have the most recent information. It all depends on weather forecasts and whatnot.”

“What’s their name?”

“Captain Square Sails. Quiet fellow. Barks his orders and then says nothing else, generally. Brilliant conversationalist, if you like talking about yourself. One of the best sailors in Her Highness’ Royal Navy, I’d say.”

“You’ve worked with them before? I thought you were Royal Guard.”

“We’re really more of a single entity with different branches. I did a year out at sea as part of my rotation, before transferring back inland. Pegasi don’t really do well on the waves,” she sighed, looking away in shame. “Makes us jittery to move like we do in air with our hooves on solid ground. And they don’t like us flying about the place, either. Hard to make sure you’re doing your duty or can respond to an emergency if you’re half a mile in the air.”

“I can see how that’d be an issue,” Applejack said consolingly. They were halfway to the docks now, and the ships were all coming into view. They were mostly all fishing vessels, small with a single mast, though the activity about them was all the same as the larger ones—almost moreso, she noticed, which caused her to slow down while thinking.

“Yeah, and trust me, when you’re hovering above the deck and the whole thing keeps swaying back and forth beneath you while you’re in one place, it ain’t pretty— Applejack? Everything alright?” Polished Brass had stopped several steps ahead. 

“Why’re ponies catching fish?” 

“Why else? Bits. Lots of it. Griffons and dragons both pay out the wazoo for catches they don’t need to make on their own. This might be an unassuming little port town, but it’s quite wealthy underneath, believe me.”

Applejack thought it over and shrugged, before catching up with Polished Brass and carrying on. “Makes sense. Sorry about that. Was a bit of a strange sight for me to see all them nets being hauled up.”

“I have a feeling you’ll be seeing more than your fair share of strange sights over the next little while, Applejack.”

The words hung in the air, Polished Brass having spoken them with a hint of apprehension that was quickly noticed by the earth pony.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, it’s just…” She rubbed the back of her neck, and then whipped the sweat off her hoof as she pulled away. “Nothing bad, I don’t think. But I can’t shake this strange feeling that something isn’t right. Like I’m not doing the right thing right now, or like I’ve forgotten something.”

“Mmm. Yeah, I know that. I’ve got it too. I think everypony does right now, to some extent. Bugs me out somethin’ fierce, I’ll tell ya, but we’re all pretty positive it has to do with the S—”

“Shh!”

“...Right, sorry.”

“I-it’s okay, just… be careful. We don’t want this to have any snags, do we?”

“None at all, lieutenant.” 

They arrived at the dock and Polished Brass lead Applejack up to the far side of it, where a ship much larger than all the others was docked. It was long, maybe fifty metres, but narrow. Two masts reached out from the center of the ship like trees, skinny but held taut in place by a dozen different ropes coming from everywhich angle Applejack could see. A gangplank reached out from the deck to where they had stopped, and an earth pony wearing a dark blue uniform with purple and gold trim glanced down from the top of it at the two. He looked up at the sun and then back down, and muttered a “hmph”.

“Applejack, meet Captain Square Sails.”

She wasn’t sure if it was the intensely serious nature of the pony, whose rigid and rectangular face was decorated with a light scar and neatly trimmed beard beneath beady eyes that didn’t seem to reflect light, or the fact that the ship he stood upon very clearly was sporting multitudes of triangular sails despite his name, that had caused laughter to well up within her. She bit her bottom lip and saluted instead of speaking.

Square Sails walked down and met them, and saluted back. 

“Lieutenant Brass.” He nodded at her, then turned to Applejack. “Lady Applejack.”

It was too much. She burst into laughter, clopping a hoof on the ground in mirth, which caused the captain to step back with a frown.

“Something wrong?”

“I ain’t ever been called a Lady before, sir,” she said, calming herself down. “Not that I don’t appreciate the gesture. Just Applejack is fine, Captain.”

His hard expression softened a little bit. “A country mare, I see. Well, we might just be in luck then.” He turned around and faced the Croupiere, and kicked his hooves together. “Sailing is inherently dangerous, L- er, Applejack. We are at the whims of nature, far from Cloudsdale’s reach and further still from any immediate assistance. Living at sea takes constant hard work, constant vigilance, and constant preparedness. In a second we can go from favorable winds to monsoon, or be waylaid by thieves and vagabonds.” 

He glanced back at Applejack and, seeing her grinning in excitement, cracked a smile. “But it appears that appeals to you, as I suspected upon hearing your voice. I am under orders to convey you at your navigation by the Crown, but I’ll not lie and say I was not apprehensive of who you might be.” He turned back to the ship, following ponies as they ran back and forth, stowing goods and tying knots. “More than once I have been called to transport fairer types who disagreed with the sea. That is, however,” he said, looking down at the water which was peacefully splashing up on the dock, “not an argument one will ever win.”

“You’ve got nothing to worry about with me, sir. I ain’t got much sailing practice, nor really much time away from solid land,” she admitted, “but I plan to be as small an obstacle as I can be. You point, I’ll go and do. No fights from me, so long as you don’t argue about what we do to find what we’re after.”

He chuckled, or at least Applejack thought he chuckled; it was somewhere between a snort and a harumph, but came with a smile all the same. “We’ll get you trained on helping out, but for the meantime you may wish to stay in your quarters until we are underway and the weather's fair. If you are ready to board, I’ll show you to your new home away from home.”

Applejack nodded, and Square Sails started back up the gangplank.

“Okay, so, maybe he waxes on a bit eloquently. For somepony who handles stress so well, I think he’s got terrible social anxiety. That little bit there to get to know you probably took all the patience that stallion has for the day,” Polished Brass whispered to Applejack. She then stood up tall and saluted her with a wing. “But I’ll be off. They have a dragonfire communicator aboard the Croupiere, so if anything happens or you need to get in touch with headquarters, feel free. Like the captain said, help won’t come immediately, but it will come. Oh, that reminds me,” she said, craning back and rummaging through a pouch on her armor, “Princess Luna provided these to me to give to you. Said to open them when you needed to.” Polished Brass came back up, holding a bundle in her muzzle and extended it out to Applejack.

Applejack grabbed the bundle and inspected it; it was a small stack of letters, each signed with Applejack's name and sealed with the Royal Stamp. There were five of them, all apparently identical.

“What did she mean by that? Which one do I open first?”

“Dunno,” Polished Brass said, already turning around and unfurling her wings. “She gave them to me right before I left the castle, after I had already gotten my official orders.” She shrugged, and then crouched down. “I guess just whenever you feel like you need to read a letter from her, open one up? Anyways. Good luck, Applejack. Here’s hoping your trip goes well.”

“Here’s hoping,” Applejack replied, still staring at the bundle while Polished Brass shot off into the distance.
> Chapter 9
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Square Sails had given Applejack a quick tour of the Croupiere, describing the different sections with nothing more than a curt uttering of their name before quickly ushering her onwards. So far as she had managed to garner, the top of the ship was the main deck, the captain’s quarters was on the aptly named quarterdeck (where the helm, which is what he called the steering wheel, was situated), and her cabin was located on the gun deck, accessed via a stairway set next to the quarterdeck. 

He had quickly pointed to the front of the ship where another raised section stood, and called it what sounded to Applejack like foxhole, but she was pretty sure that wasn’t right. Regardless, he had added that she was best off avoiding that section of the ship as it was where the lowest-ranked sailors would spend their time and, while he was certain Applejack could handle rough language and crude jokes, figured it was best all the same if she didn’t get in their way.

“At any moment’s notice, the bosun’s whistle might sound and you’d find yourself under a dozen sets of hooves before you can blink,” he cautioned her, while leading her down the stairs to the gun deck. “As a representative of the Crown, you’re entitled to stay in the officer’s quarters, astern the gundeck.”

They walked underneath the main deck, ducking heads under lanterns that hung from the low ceiling and trying not to run into any of the cannons which had been stowed away. It was certainly a new setting for Applejack. The familiar scent of aged lumber and burning lantern oil from the multitudes of barns she had been in throughout her life clashed strangely with the permeating salt-water fragrance. The low ceiling and stacks of crates and barrels surrounding her made the deck feel immensely claustrophobic, though she welcomed the sensation. Already the gentle bobbing of the ship had set her nerves on edge, and the enclosed quarters helped her feel a bit more grounded.

Square Sails reached the officer’s quarters and stepped aside. There were four cabins, two on each side of a somehow even smaller hallway, and judging by the door placement they were only slightly larger than an outhouse. He pointed at the far left one and simply muttered “Yours.”

Applejack squeezed past the captain and slipped into the tiny room. It was slightly more spacious than it had appeared to be, owing likely to being built into a section of the ship that was cut off on the interior. It had a tiny glass window which was so etched by salt and algae that it was only good for letting sunlight in, a dresser built into the right which doubled as a writing desk, a single chair beneath the window, and finally a solid looking mattress affixed within a cubby sticking out of the left wall. 

She set her saddlebag down between the chair and the dresser and slid onto the bed, testing it. It was no softer than packed, dry earth, and once again she found herself grateful for what would normally be discomfort. Nothing like something solid to cheer an earth pony up, she figured.

Square Sails stepped into the room after her and sat down on the chair, then checked his watch with a rapid and rigid movement. 

“Comfortable?”

“Absolutely,” she replied.

He nodded. “You’re a good liar,” he said, and continued on before she could object. “The mess deck is below us, follow the staircase under the fo’c’sle, you’ll see it easily. Dinner will be in oh-one-hundred hours.” He tilted his chin up, thinking. “Are you familiar with military time?”

Applejack nodded. 

“Excellent. We depart tomorrow morning with the sun. I won’t wake you up on purpose but expect to be woken.”

“I wake up before the sun anyways.”

“I expected that.” He nodded once again and then stood up. “You’re welcome to get your bearings about the ship until light’s out, and then I ask you remain in your cabin until informed it is safe to exit. Understood?”

“Absolutely. Thank you, Captain.”

“Welcome aboard the HHS Croupiere, Applejack.” With that, he walked quickly out of her room, letting the door swing shut behind him.

She took a moment to lay there, adjusting to the ‘silence’. In truth, it was loud; hooves clomped and clattered above and below her. Whistles and shouts abounded, the words just distant and unknown enough to blend together into background music. Waves splashed against the ship and the whole thing creaked and groaned with each gust of wind. But it was quiet in her room.

The letters were a curiosity. More lessons, perhaps? She wasn’t really sure what the purpose of them not being ordered would have been, but felt that they must not have had any relation to any of the others then. So what would they say?

She rolled over and looked at the saddlebag where she had stashed them. There were five of them, after all. Reading one now would probably be expected, at least so she would know the purpose of the other four. She decided that Princess Luna wouldn’t be upset if she had somehow opened it up at the wrong time—besides, Applejack thought, it wasn’t like she could do anything about the letters now. She was on board the Croupiere, the gangplank had been raised, and there was only a couple hours left before she had to settle down for the night.

Decided, she slid off the bed and grabbed the saddlebag before rummaging through it and pulling out the first letter she reached. After another brief but thorough inspection she concluded it indeed had absolutely nothing telling about it, and broke the seal.

She pulled out a single sheet and immediately recognized Luna’s hoofwriting. Setting the envelope onto the desk she rolled back onto the bed, shifted until she was as comfortable as she could get, and started to read.

Dear Applejack,

	If you have opened this letter, it means you have decided it is time to do so, or that you needed it. Although perhaps you were just curious, I suppose. It is all part of the fun, of course.

Applejack smirked, shaking her head at the fact she had been called out in a letter.

I wanted you to have some of my words to aide you on your journey and bring you comfort. Being far from home is difficult — I know this so much, as I’m sure you’re aware. Being far from home all on your own is even tougher. 

	You are not alone, however. You have my words and my wishes here with you. Know that you will always have my support, and if your journey brings you troubles, take solace in my belief you shall prevail.

	I bring you more than encouraging words. In the western sky, towards the south, is the constellation Hydras. I have drawn a small example of it here; with your practice, I’m sure you will find it easily. The three stars on the top half of the constellation always point due east. Should for whatever reason you lose your way, just remember: find Hydras, find home.

	Your light at night,

	Luna

Applejack found herself blushing hard. Not only was it unexpectedly sweet, but she had also noticed very quickly the omission of the title Princess from the signature—something which had adorned every letter received from her prior. After studying the constellation quickly she gently folded the letter up and slid it back into the envelope.

Already the uneasiness of being off land had seemed to evaporate from her body. The gentle swaying of the ship felt more like a cradle rocking than a churning danger. It was one of the most thoughtful things she had received, and Applejack realized then exactly what the letters were for and when she should open them.

They were for when she was homesick, and though she had been much further away from home many times before, something about the lack of dirt beneath her hooves had hastened the onset of the feeling. 

Applejack lay back with her hooves stretched out above her head, and breathed in deeply. 

“That’s one sentimental alicorn,” she muttered, unable to stop herself from smiling.

There came a sudden sharp whistle, louder than the rest she had been hearing for the last little bit, and glancing at the small clock on the dresser she realized it was seven at night, and dinner was being served. She got up from the bed, stretched, and then snuck out the door to the gun deck.

The trumping of hooves seemed to organize itself into a sort of unison as sailors all directed themselves to the mess deck, and Applejack found herself at the end of the line by the time she reached it. This deck was dark, being twice removed from the sky above and with windows just as grungy as the one in her room. The only source of light now were the lanterns that swung ominously with the ship. All kinds of earth ponies and unicorns were milling about, sliding past a tired, whiskered stallion who was ladelling out oatmeal. 

Applejack waited patiently, tipping her hat to the few sailors who walked past with their bowls while muttering hello, and in relatively quick manner she had reached the pony on kitchen duty.

“Ah, the passenger. What’ll it be, lass?” He said, staring at her with a lidded eye. 

“Uh, well, what do you have?”

“Grits.” He said it as if he was starting a list, but nothing came after, and a few seconds later Applejack chuckled and winked.

“Well they all sound great, but I’ll take the grits,” she answered, earning a low rumble from the chef that could be interpreted as a laugh. 

He dropped a large ladleful of porridge into a bowl and slid it towards her. “You’ll do alright here, lass. Watch out for squinty over there, though,” he said, leaning down close and whispering. “A new recruit usually gives me the willies for a time, ‘till they get their sealegs. But that unicorn already seems settled in.”

Applejack raised an eyebrow. “There ain’t no other ponies on no other ships these days, then?”

The chef shrugged. “Fairer than not, I suppose. Still creeps me. Just watch your rump for a time, til I says it’s fine.”

“My rump’ll be just fine under my care,” Applejack said proudly, “But thanks all the same.” She tipped her hat at him and stepped away, finding a spot at the table to eat.

It wasn’t so much that she was ignored or excluded by the rest of the ponies around her, and moreso that they hadn’t much to say towards her. Introductions and greetings were quickly exchanged before conversations resumed on their chosen subject. Applejack didn’t mind, happy to focus on eating her food and simply learning what sort of characters she was going to be living with for a while.

One pair exchanged insults back and forth and worked off each other’s wit so well that Applejack felt they might have been married. More than once their scathing underhanded responses caused her to choke on her grits with laughter, and each time it happened the offending speaker had tossed a quick wink her way. 

Next to them were a group of three who were all talking about their home lives; one earth pony had apparently just become a father, and was gushing to the full extent the others would allow him to. When the excitement came a little too much, one of the first pair would utter a quick jab at the sailor, causing him to smile and close his mouth.

Able to get a word in, the other two talked of their families. One of them had two siblings she was supporting back in Canterlot. The last was from Applewood, the daughter of a rich movie magnate who was tired of her lazing around and had pressured her into joining the Royal Guard to learn some backbone. It apparently had worked; the rigid order and clear expectations of her had been well appreciated—apparently being somewhat lacking at the house of the producer—and she had recently re-enlisted. 

“There’s a certain charm to having work to do consistently,” Applejack said to her once she finished recounting her story. “Lotta folks think about getting up before the sun and feel sick to their stomach, but not me. My friends sometimes wonder how I keep myself so positive toiling away most of the spring and fall. They’re well meaning, but don’t quite get it.”

“Right?” The mare—a unicorn named Showcase—had pressed her bowl away from herself and was leaning on an elbow, listening intently to Applejack. “We had house cleaners and tutors and gardeners and everything, and then he got all up in arms about how I lounged about the house all the time not doing anything.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “All it took was somepony to give me something to do and I fell in love. Wake up, do your job, get paid, spend it on things that make you smile. The perfect life for me.”

Applejack nodded along with her, and reached out and patted her on the back when she had finished. “It’s nice to meet a pony who feels the same way.”

“Same to you. Applejack, was it?”

“Yup.”

“Nice to meet you, Applejack.”

“Likewise, Showcase.”

As they exchanged names and smiles, a whistle sounded from above, and it was as if a strange hypnotism had taken over the crew. All of them snapped up and sat straight at their seats, looking directly ahead. A wrinkled and scarred earth pony—almost as thick as Troubleshoes—stomped into the mess before scanning the room and grunting.

“Lights out in one hour!” she belted, causing Applejack to flinch. “Team two on two-thousand to oh-hundred watch. Team three on oh-hundred to four-hundred watch.”

“Aye, bosun!”

The huge mare stomped back out, and the crew visibly relaxed, heaving a heavy sigh all at once.

“That sort of order,” Showcase giggled, pressing back from the table. “That’s what I love. Ponies give me strange looks for it. I’m on the team two watch, so I’ve got to go get ready. Have a good night, Applejack.”

“Take care,” she replied, getting up with the other ponies. The ship heaved slightly in a larger wave, and she stumbled, garnering a hooffull of chuckles from various sailors. With one last look around the mess, she decided she was better off getting some rest, and returned to her cabin.
> Chapter 10
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Just as she had expected, Applejack had woken before the sunrise, though not due to any amount of adequate rest. The ringing bells and that sharp, piercing whistle had helped bring her out of a light, furtive sleep. She wasn’t sure which was more frustrating; being woken up, or the attempt at sleep she had been trying to make most the night.

Despite the familiarity with hard ground the mattress had given her, the constant up and down motion of the ship had tricked her guts to thinking they were on a rollercoaster. She didn’t feel nauseous, but the constant shifting in her belly had annoyed and distracted her the entire night. Gentle splashes of waves and rhythmically creaking lumber had done nothing to soothe her against the movement, and by now she figured giving up would probably be for the best.

She lay down on the bed still though, attempting to give her body time to adjust to the feeling, and had taken to reading the letter Princess Luna had sent her and going over the constellation a couple more times. 

She was in the middle of packing the letter back up in her bag and finding some sort of activity to occupy her time when there was a loud knock at the door.

“Oh! Uh, come in, I suppose.”

The door opened and it was the chef from the night before, carrying a tray wrapped around his withers with a couple dishes on it.

“Good morning, lass. Captain’s requested we bring this right to you. Breakfast, if one were to be bold enough to call it that.” He barked a laugh that shook the cabin. “Daisies on rye and coffee or tea.”

“Much thanks,” Applejack said, shifting over onto the chair. “I’ll have the coffee please.”

“You misunderstand,” the chef replied, setting the tray down on the desk. “It’s one of them, but nobody on the ship can seem to figure it out.” He chuckled and stepped out, pausing before closing the door. “As I understand it you’ll be confined here till we’re properly out to sea.”

As he spoke, as if in response, there was a sustained shout from up above and a large clattering noise, and the weight in Applejack’s stomach lurched as she felt the whole ship start to turn and move. With it came a slight increase in the amplitude of the waves, and she groaned.

“Now seeing as you’re probably gonna want something to keep your mind off how awful you feel,” he muttered, tapping his chin, “did ya bring anything along to spend your time on?”

“—urp. Uh, no, I wasn’t expecting quite this.”

“We warn’em all usually and none of them expect it. Anything I can bring yah? There’s no library on board, but I could probably find you an old navigational chart or summat…”

Applejack shifted back onto the bed and layed down on her belly, grimacing and bearing the brunt as every earth pony nerve in her body screamed at her to stop moving without moving. Figuring a distraction would be gratefully appreciated, she looked up to the gruff sailor and nodded.

“Got any knives?”

“A hundred of them in the galley. You need a plank too?”

She smiled. “Uh, aye?”

“Celestia’s flanks, just say yes,” he laughed, dropping the door closed. She could hear his laughter diminish down as he went further into the ship, and chuckled a small amount herself.

A few minutes later he had returned, dropping a plain kitchen knife and a small bundle of scrap lumber onto the desk. After taking a few deep breaths, Applejack turned from her bed and picked up the knife and a small cutting—what looked to be the end piece of a eight by four—and started whittling. 

Metal scraped against wood, the blade sharp and the steel old and solid enough to keep its edge well. Little curls of wood started to pile up on the floor while she chipped away at the little piece. She focused on the movements, carefully manipulating the knife with her mouth and paying attention to how every swipe felt, if it had caught or the angle suddenly felt too deep. She didn’t actually think about what she was carving. If anything were to come out of the wood, it would have had to exist there in the first place for her to find. And if there was nothing that came to be, no worries. Dulling a blade against a block was doing wonders to distract her from the lurching ship, and she was grateful to the chef for the offer.

She hit a knot and the block lifted slightly in her hoof, prompting her to take a slow breath before changing her hold on the knife and continuing from a different angle. There was something she could work with there, based off how it curved in on itself, and she noted it subconsciously while continuing to gently move her head back and forth, slowly shaping the wood into something recognizable.

Some ponies relaxed by brushing their manes and tails. That wasn’t for Applejack; her hat would cover most of it and whatever was left was shoved into a bundle and tied with an elastic. Other ponies would read, flipping pages over and over, and while there were a few books at home she might take the time to go over, in general she just felt bored going over the words. Some she knew tended to gardens and flowers, not really as food supply but just as a hobby, pulling weeds one by one and watering back and forth.

There was always a rhythm to these things, she thought. Something monotonous but enjoyable all the same, which helped settle the mind and leave it neutral, devoid of ambitions and anxieties all the same. It was the act of just doing something, doing it over and over again, which shut the noisy part of a pony’s brain off and let them get some rest for once. 

For Applejack, hers was crafting. It wasn’t always whittling, and she knew when she was done that what she had—if she would have anything at all—would be alright at best. It always involved manual work, though. Not strenuous work, like plowing fields and bucking trees, but small, repetitive tasks that ended up with something more than what you put into it. She’d fix fences that didn’t really need it, maintain little systems about the farm and house, chip away at wood with a knife until she decided it looked sorta like something; she would take apart and replace and remove and rebuild, and she would be at peace.

When the midday bell rang, Applejack was surrounded by a fine layer of wood cuttings and a single, tiny object on the desk. She was surprised to find that she had actually managed to produce a carving that was recognizable, though with a low laugh she realized it was of an apple.

“I suppose I can be a little predictable,” she muttered, glancing out the window. There still wasn’t much she could see through it, but the sky was clear and blue, and the rolling motion of the ship seemed to have subsided a bit.

Her door rattled with a knock, and a sailor stuck her head in and smiled at her.

“‘Ello dearie. I’s lunch time, eh? Cap’n says you’re free to walk about the decks for the time being, get your legs an’ all.”

“Ah, thank you,” Applejack said to the mare who had already left. She stood up, arched her back in a stretch and, getting a good couple pops out of it, sighed and stepped out onto the gun deck.

Everything looked pretty much the same as it had when she had retired, though the light flooding in from the portholes had made the place seem a lot less suffocating than the night before. Ponies were filing in and out of the mess at a regular pace, and Applejack figured she should probably eat now before it was all put away or she was locked in her cabin again.

Being a much smaller meal—her choice of an apple and an oat bar or a dandelion sandwich, delivered by that same squinting stallion who she had come to learn was named Stewaway—lunch had gone far quicker than supper, and before long she was climbing the stairs up onto the main deck. She reached the top and then stumbled to a standstill, before quickly apologizing and shuffling off to the hoofrail to make way for the busy sailors.

She was completely and entirely at sea. Every direction she looked was devoid of land. She didn’t even see any other ships, and with the sky beautifully clear, it was blue from every edge of her vision to the other. Water shifted and sparkled no matter where she turned her head. She was stranded on this little floating block of wood and rope, bobbing in the middle of a universe of nothing but sea. It reminded her somewhat of when Luna would project a starscape around them, but with how utterly featureless the rest of the world was around her, it had none of the captivation her lessons had entailed.

The horizon spun around her, that fine line somehow warping about her vision without moving at all. Dizziness from the waves came roaring back, along with new, overwhelming feelings; homesickness, fear, confusion, unfamiliarity. All of it mixed together in her mind and her legs started to quake. 

All of this coalesced within her stomach and she leaned over the railing and instantly vomited. She heard laughter come from somewhere on the ship but ignored it as she retched again, bringing up bits of dandelion that hadn’t even had time to settle. Embarrassment could come later. Right now she needed to get these feelings out. She needed to get rid of the sense of true distance and separation she had from Equestria and her friends. She needed to void the constant shifting of her insides. More than anything, she wanted to clear that damned, ever present feeling that she wasn’t moving fast enough or doing the right thing.

A hoof patted her hard on the back, striking her withers in time with one final heave of her stomach, and then slowed to smooth, circular movements, massaging her while she hiccoughed over the railing. After a minute of this, she spit one final time and then slid back to see who it was.

“You’ll be the butt of all the jokes for a week now, you understand,” Captain Square Sails said, handing her a small cloth. She accepted it and cleaned her muzzle, nodding.

“Figures. I’ll survive. So long as I don’t have to live through much more of that nonsense, anyways.”

He chuckled, turning to face the sea with Applejack. “I shan’t lie to you and tell you you’ll be over it now. Grab one of the buckets in the galley before you next return to your cabin, you’ll want it. But it won’t last for too much longer, not unless you’re truly allergic to the ocean.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

“We have all been hanging over a hoofrail at one point in our lives. Don’t take their jesting to heart.”

She nodded, resting her forehooves on the rain and looking out, examining what she could see with a bit more focus. The Croupiere smashed into a large wave then, and the spray of water on her cheeks felt a little restorative. She locked her eyes on the horizon while trying to adjust against the bobbing, and Square Sails shook his head.

“Just keep your body still. Don’t overcorrect so much, that’s what’s making you upset.”

“Mmm,” Applejack replied, not trusting herself to open her mouth as her belly twirled again. She followed his advice, taking long deep breaths in and exhaling slowly. The tang of salt tickled her nose but she welcomed the distraction. It was not an unpleasant scent, now they were away from the rotting lumber and barrels of fish of the docks. On its own it actually felt quite easy to breathe.

She risked scanning the sea again to find anything, and saw nothing.

“How do you find where you’re going?”

“Navigation officer,” Square Sails barked. Applejack looked at him sardonically, wondering what sort of answer that was, when a teal unicorn mare quickly showed up behind the two.

“Aye, Captain!”

“Our guest has questions. When you are free, please find me at the helm.”

“Aye aye, sir.” Square Sails walked away and she quickly replaced his spot, leaning against the rails while glancing curiously at the earth pony. “I’m Due North. How may I assist?”

“Er, well, I had just asked the captain how you know where you’re going. There’s nothing out there,” she said, waving a hoof wide. “Best I could tell you is where East and West are around.”

“On the contrary, miss!” The mare straightened up, her eyes beaming wide in excitement. “There’s so much out there! We’ve got the horizon and the sun, and that’s more than enough to find where we are and how we’re facing, and then we’ve got a chip log to tell us our speed, and finally in the quarterdeck we have a chronometer.” She was almost bouncing, and Applejack leaned back slightly to check her flank. 

It was a map and protractor, and she smiled with a grunt.

“Okay, so, couple things there I guess. Let’s start with the chip log.”

“It’s a log with a rope tied to it. We’ve got knots in the rope at set distances apart, and we throw that astern and count how many knots go by in a small amount of time to determine our speed. You see, it’s a simple calculation, where you take the number—”

“You remind me of a pony back home,” Applejack interrupted, grinning. “A chronomono?”

“Chronometre. It’s kind of like a fancy clock, lets us know what our longitude is using the difference in time between here and Canterlot. We find what true time it is using the sun, of course, as well as, you know, a watch, and then we have another tool called a sextant which gives us the angle between the sun and the horizon, letting us know how far south we are, or north I suppose, but we’re in the Southern Hemisphere so really it’s just south that I’ve ever used it for.”

“That’s—”

“Anyways so with our longitude and latitude, not only can I tell you where we are, but where we’re facing, and combining that with how fast we’re going gives us our dead reckoning which is a fancy term for like, how we’re moving, which then I just sort of chart on a map!”

“Very in—”

“Though of course the apparent wind and actual wind changes things, so we have to do these measurements quite often throughout the day. Oh! Oh! I didn’t tell you about night time! So we have these maps called star charts, and they—”

“List constellations and their related homes in the sky.”

The mare stumbled, caught off guard. “Oh, you know about astronomy?”

“A little. I’ve been learning. I uh, take it nopony ever really asks you about this stuff?”

Due North shirked back, blushing. “Is it that obvious?” she whispered with a squeak. 

“A bit, sugarcube. Don’t worry none about gushing about what you’re excited about. It’s all a bit much for me all at once, but I don’t mind.”

She smiled back at Applejack and then looked out against the rippling waves. “You’re awfully kind. The company on a ship aren’t always the most appreciative or, uh, polite bunch. You learn to just do your job and hush up about anything that isn’t bits, booze, or banter. I like having passengers aboard, myself.”

Applejack slid back down from the railing, trying out all four hooves on the deck. She splayed her legs out a little further, which seemed to help, and then patted the sailor on the back.

“I think I need to go lie down a bit more myself, but maybe at supper tonight you can tell me more about it, how’s that?”

“Oh, that would be wonderful!” Due North almost jumped in place in glee before catching a glance from a fellow sailor and stiffening up. “Right, okay, Royal Navy and all. Professionalism.” She cleared her throat and took on a deeper, sarcastically authoritative voice. “Now that’s all the time I have for silliness. You scoot along now, harumph harumph, out the way, no more games…” she carried on, all the way up to the quarterdeck, leaving Applejack to lean against the railing and chuckle loudly.
> Chapter 11
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Applejack soon realized that her time aboard the Croupiere was being very quickly divided into lengths between meals. She had gone back to her cabin after speaking with Due North—after a quick detour to grab a bucket from the galley, as directed—and layed down, opting to nap to try to offset the awful sleep she had gotten. Once again she had been woken by a knock, informed food was ready, and left alone in her cramped quarters to roll off the rock hard mattress.

The midafternoon snooze had done wonders for her, though, so she wasn’t ready to complain of her day being wasted away quite yet. The captain’s warnings about avoiding the rest of the ship to stay out of the way might have been genuine, but she figured he also had intended her time to adjust to the constant motion of the ocean, and given her an excuse to hide away on a bunk unless absolutely necessary. Once again she stretched and yawned, and then stepped out to slip down to the mess.

Already most the crew had gotten their rations, so there was no line this time. She had a small exchange with Stewaway, picked up a plate of fried grass with carrots, and sat down next to Due North.

“Feeling better, dear?” she asked, her lilty voice tinged with concern.

“A fair bit,” Applejack replied, trying a small bit of carrot and testing how it felt. The second she swallowed it she realized just how hungry she had been, and instantly felt starving. “Ooh,” she muttered, rubbing her belly.

“Or maybe not, then?”

“Nah, not that. Just remembering I technically didn’t eat today.” She craned her head around back to the counter, investigating. “I haven’t had a lick of liquid either. I was thinking there might be cider on board, you know, hearing tales of you sailin’ folk, buuut, I should probably stick with water for now.”

“Allow me,” Due North said, quickly magicing over two mugs from near Stewaway, who gave her a sharp look and opened his mouth to complain.

“No non-personal magic in the mess, damnit!”

“Stow it, Soups,” Due North called back. “Our Royal Guest is thirsty. What’s one exception?”

He grumbled but said nothing else.

“Really now?” Applejack said, twisting a brow up. “Are ya name dropping already?”

“Moreso to get him to shut up. We’re not supposed to use magic in here unless it’s to like, hold our forks and whatever. It gets to be a busy place and if you’re not paying attention there’ll be grog on the floor, which is a hazard, so then you get to mop it up, and then you’re in pony’s ways, and…” She rolled her eyes. “Not worth it. But for a quick cup of water, what the Tartarus, right?”

She raised her mug and Applejack mimicked her, cheersing together before taking a small swig. As she drank, a small wave of relief washed over her.

“I probably shoulda done that a lot earlier,” she sighed, grabbing a larger mouthful of grass now. “Feels loads better.”

“Once you’re trained on water, we’ll get you adjusted to cider, don’t you worry,” Due North giggled. “But if you can’t hold your water, I shudder to think how you’d handle booze.”

This earned a few laughs from the sailors around them, and Applejack glared.

“What? We have to make fun of you. It’s practically the law of the sea,” she said. She looked around to a series of nods, and then gave Applejack a playful punch. “But you’re a big strong farm girl who can take it, right?”

Applejack stuck her tongue out at Due North before taking a larger drink of water. “You’re darn rights I am. But just you wait, I’ll be watching for you to make one misstep—”

“Like last month when you tripped over the chip log and fell into the dirty mop water?” somepony said.

Due North erupted into a blush. 

“Alright, well maybe I’m making fun of you because I’m a little sore about how it’s been my turn fairly often lately.”

“Oh, well, jab away,” Applejack said, beaming.

“I think I’m done now anyways. So… can I talk to you about navigation?” 

Her eyes were like Winona’s when she wanted something she wasn’t allowed, Applejack realized. 

“O’course. Lessee, what do I remember… Alright, tell me about a sextant.”

The two continued to converse for quite a while, until the whistle and bells that Applejack was quickly becoming accustomed to sounded off, and Due North hastily excused herself as having to do final checks before her shift change. Applejack drained her water, set the mug down on the serving hatch, and started back to her bunk. Halfway there, she paused, and then turned around and slipped up to the main deck.

The sun was right on the horizon, cut off by a serenely calm sea. There was hardly any wind at this point in time, and the light breezes caught the sails above furtively. The sound of the canvas flumping out time and time again seemed to be the only noise that wasn’t the echo of hooves clopping about her.

She turned around and headed to the other side of the ship, facing east. The moon was in a similar position to the sun, half submerged in water, and a few early stars had started to appear out of the red and purple mix surrounding it. 

Cool air filled her lungs, and she closed her eyes and simply stood there, breathing in. She bathed in the slim moonlight, listening only to the snaps of canvas in the wind and the lapping splashes. She almost jumped when she realized that the ship was still creaking, but she hadn’t even noticed it—so consistent in her life now it was already assigned behind the background in her mind.

It was the beginning of a truly wonderful night, Applejack figured. She had about an hour before lights out, and thought about how she could spend it. From what it appeared, ponies weren’t allowed on the quarterdeck unless they were one of the officers; the captain, or the navigators or bosun, or on occasion a sailor who had a job to do. One such pony was there now, that squinting-eyed recruit that Stewaway had warned her about, dutifully mopping the deck without paying attention one bit to the mare staring at him. 

She was content to stay here for a while, leaning on the railing and watching the moon rise, perhaps waiting to see if she could recognize Hydras before heading to bed. Content until, that is, a more intense breeze picked up from the south and the ship lurched and jerked in response to the rush of waves it had brought.

She smiled up at the sky, stretched over the railing and hurled again, and called it a night.
> Chapter 12
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Breakfast was once again brought to her cabin, though in addition to the coffee-or-tea and bread with butter on the tray was a small lump of ginger, which Stewaway had assured her was absolutely not being rationed to her and if anyone asked about ginger stores to say not a Celestia-damned thing about it. With tired, appreciative eyes she agreed, deciding to start with it anyways to let her keep a meal down for once.

Thankfully she found that the ginger did help settle her stomach, and even though the internal tilting had continued just as much as before, it didn’t seem to bother her nearly as much. Satisfied that she was finally keeping a meal down, she stood up and stretched her legs and then took a minute to brush her mane. She glanced up at the window while brushing, recognizing once again a clear, sunny day, and smiled. She considered going up on deck and seeing if she could look out at the sea once again, before deciding to wait and make sure the ginger was really going to work.

Applejack pulled out the kitchen knife and another block of wood and started whittling, letting her mind wander. That intensely nagging pressure had seemed to subside a little bit, and she thought about it. Perhaps now she was on course, following the Source’s directions, it was satisfied? It felt reassuring, if anything—like she was being given divine recognition that what she was doing was right.

She had not gotten very far with her carving before she was interrupted by a knocking. It was one of the sailors she had not met yet, and when she said, “Come in,” the door opened sharply.

“Miss?”

“Uh huh?”

“You’re wanted above deck, on the quarterdeck. Something’s come up.”

“Oh. Okay.”

The door closed and Applejack was left musing. The sailor had sounded nervous, almost afraid to tell her the order. She hadn’t felt like she had been any sort of imposing presence. Perhaps something was wrong? But then why was her anxiety lessened?

She shrugged the thoughts off and turned towards the door before pausing, grabbing her saddlebag, and departing. If something was wrong, it was best to be prepared.

Ponies were rushing all about the ship, checking lines and knots, glancing at each other, and in general muttering hushed, sharp words between each other that Applejack couldn’t make out. Curious, she climbed up the stairs to the main deck, and took a moment to check out the outside world.

True to her expectations, it was bright and beautiful outside. A constant, steady breeze was blowing, coming from directly behind the sails even. The ship was clearly speeding along, cutting into the short waves as if sliding on grease. Surprisingly, as she watched the great progress that seemed to be made, a selection of unicorns were quickly pulling all the sails up and bundling them close to the spars.

Quickly climbing the steps at the stern she knocked on the door to the navigation room, which opened fast to reveal a very wide eyed and shaking Due North, behind which was standing Captain Square Sails.

“Oh, good, you’re here, that’s great, feeling better? We’re lost.”

Applejack blanched. “Uh, good morning? We’re lost?”

“Well, uh, not lost. I know where we are. It’s not where we should be, though. Being your mission and all we wanted to make sure you knew as soon as possible. Didn’t want you to be surprised to find out a week later we’re not going the right way!” She laughed nervously and then clamped her hooves to her mouth, cringing.

“At attention, Due North,” Square Sails said, his command sharp but neutral. The unicorn responded by clicking her hooves together and facing forward, trying to stay still so hard she was vibrating a little bit. The captain turned around, gave a half smile, and then motioned for Applejack to sit down at the table in the center of the room.

She moved and sat, and then glanced behind her at Due North who was still shaking.

“At ease,” he said again, and she exhaled, failing to hold back a sigh of relief. “And come here as well. Sorry, I needed you to calm yourself.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“So, er,” Applejack started, glancing over the table. It was covered with a huge map that was mostly unfamiliar to her. “What’s wrong?”

“As our navigational officer just informed you, we are off course.” He pointed down at the map, where a small model figure of the Croupiere was sitting close to the east side. There Applejack recognized the western coast of Equestria, but not much more. The north edge of the map was filled about halfway before fading into nothing, just beyond what she knew of the Undiscovered West. Along the south was the Storm King’s lair, and then nothing but ice, also fading halfway across the map like the north. In the center, just before the western edge of the map lost its detail, was a large island that—if you squinted—looked like a dove.

“We are here,” he said, tapping the ship. “Or we were, heading north-northwest to Dove Island, as of our two-thousand reading last night. It was determined just a short moment ago that at some point last night our rudder was disabled, and we are now…”

He turned his attention to Due North, who took over, sliding the ship far more north than it previously was.

“We’re here now. Luckily it appears the rudder is seized upon the centerline, so we’re not stuck doing loops, but we’ve been blown way off course.”

“That’s why the sails are being bundled up?” Applejack asked, sneaking a peek out the windows behind her.

“Indeed. I have ordered sails down until we come to a stop and can assess what has gone wrong. A small crew should be assessing the damage as we speak. If we are lucky, a joint has been broken and can easily be replaced. If it is more serious, however, we will not be travelling as fast as previously hoped. There are ample stores aboard ship, so a delay is not dangerous to us, but I wanted you to know that your mission will not be finished as soon as you had hoped.”

As the captain spoke, Applejack found herself frowning. Square Sails had sounded slightly off, like he was holding something back or perhaps covering up some other emotion. His voice had come off with somehow less inflection than he normally used.

“Well, alright, Captain,” Applejack said, watching him carefully. “Is that all you needed to tell me, or is something else going on?”

“What—”

“Captain Square Sails!” a voice came from the door, pounding on it urgently. “Captain!”

“Enter.”

An earth pony, dripping wet from mane to frog, stepped in to the quarterdeck. He saluted and snapped his hooves together, sending a small spray of water off to one side. “I have results from the investigation into the rudder, sir.”

“Speak.”

“Sabotaged, Captain. Right at the bearings, they’ve been deliberately melted with magic.”

At this, Captain Square Sails stood fully tall, a serious shade taking over his face. “Are you positive, sailor?” 

“Absolutely, sir. There isn’t any sort of fish that can do that type of damage. It’s locked in place for good.”

Applejack felt panic start to set in, but held her place. She could see Due North starting to shake again, and reached a hoof out to rest on her back, calming her. It wasn’t news she was ready to hear, but there was no sense giving up all hope at the first sign of trouble.

“Thank you, sailor. Back to your station, but send First Mate to me please.”

“Aye aye, Captain.”

As the stallion left, Square Sails started to pace around the navigation table, fuming. After a couple laps, he sat back down and faced Applejack.

“It appears this mission of yours is not so secret as you would have liked. I suspect an enemy of the Crown has done this to sabotage your efforts. To make matters worse,” he muttered, catching eyes with the devastated Due North before staring out towards the sea, “There is no easy escape from a ship at sea. I’m afraid we have a traitor in our midst. 
> Chapter 13
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You wanted to see me, Captain?”

First Mate was a tall, roan earth pony, whose height had caused him to duck slightly under the doorframe to enter the quarterdeck. Square Sails rose to meet him, urging him to shut the door.

“Indeed, sailor. We have a predicament. You’re aware of the situation with the rudder, yes?”

“Aye, Captain. Seaweed let me know when he passed your message along. Deliberate sabotage?” He shook his head. “Never in my life would I have expected such a thing.”

“Indeed. We are at least lucky enough to have it be fused straight. Drop portside anchor and prepare a drogue. Due North?”

“Aye Captain?”

“Establish a corrected course to Dove Island. It should take a couple hours to build the emergency rudder, have it done by then.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” She stood up and immediately went to the windows, picking up a spyglass as she went. 

“Applejack?”

“Yessir? Er, aye Captain?” 

Square Sails hid a smile before continuing. “Watch your flank about the ship. There’s no lock on your cabin, so if you retire to it, I would recommend not having a nap without barricading the door. If necessary I recommend you sleep with the crew in the fo’c’sle. Less privacy, but less chance to do anything suspicious. We don’t know who the traitor aboard the ship is, so we must remain vigilant.”

“Traitor, sir?” First Mate asked, taken aback as he reached for the door.

“Of course, sailor, who else would fuse the rudder? Off with you now, we can’t afford to waste any more time.”

“Anything else I should do, sir?” Applejack asked, looking around. “Maybe I can find out who could have done this?”

“I appreciate it, but I don’t want anypony going about seeding distrust amongst the entire crew. I believe you can likely handle yourself in a fight, and if a scuffle breaks out there’s the rest of us to intervene. Best we can do now is wait for whoever it was to make their next move, and hope to catch them in the act. Perhaps this was the extent of their tactics, seeking merely to delay you. In the meantime, continue on as normal. We will be back in action in due time. Dismissed.”

Applejack stood up and bid the two goodbye, feeling strange. A barrage of emotions ran through her heart but they all seemed to even themselves out to nothing; the anxiety of a traitor aboard seemed nullified by the continued absence of the Source’s push on her. Impatience at the delay rallied, only to be beaten down by the acceptance she had no idea how long the trip was supposed to take in the first place. She was worried, but calm; angry, but apathetic. If somepony did try anything with her, she’d have them bucked off into the water faster than you could say “candied apple”, trained Royal Guard or not. 

She opted to mill about above deck, staying closer to the fore side of the ship to avoid the bustle of activity around the back. As she watched, ponies had assembled an almost sort of mini sail and were fastening a number of lines and pulleys to it around the ship. It was almost an hour in when she realized that she had been watching all of this happen while the ship rocked back and forth the entire time and hadn’t felt the least bit nauseous. She considered finding Stewaway and seeing if he couldn’t procure more ginger for her for later, when a shout came from above the main mast.

“Sail Ho!”

To say the energy amongst the crew had changed would have been an understatement. Applejack watched as a ripple of ponies stopping and stiffening up spread out from the mast, ears perked and alert, eyes wide. All of the shouts and coordinated grunts that had been the soundtrack to her morning had cut short like somepony had knocked the needle off the record. In the quiet, there was only the splashing of waves and the creaking of hull, before a door slammed open.

“Report!” Square Sails demanded up to the crows nest, as all eyes snapped onto him.

“Sail off the starboard bow, Captain! Looks to be a brigantine, heading right towards us.”

Square Sails pulled a small telescope from a pocket in his uniform and flicked it, snapping it out to its full extent and bringing it to his eye all in one fluid motion. After a moment he collapsed it back down and rubbed his muzzle, thinking.

“Orders, Captain?” First Mate asked. He had been in the middle of keeping tension on a line while a pulley was being attached to it, and spoke from a tilted back position.

Square Sails dropped his hoof and then looked quickly around his crew before nodding sharply. “As you were, sailors. Get that rudder set up. Lookout!” he shouted, craning his neck to stare above the main mast again.

“Aye Captain?”

“What are her colours?”

“Blue cross on a black background, Captain. I don’t recognize it.”

The hoof came back up to the muzzle again, though Applejack thought for a moment that it was obscuring a smirk. When he stood still again and his face was still stoic and serious, she decided she had imagined it.

“Me either. But they’re flying colours regardless, so I’m liable to hope it’s a western country. Back to work!”

The petrification amongst the crew lasted for just a moment longer before washing away as if it hadn’t occurred, and the sailors immediately went back to their jokes and teamwork. The unease on their faces hadn’t left though, and at this Applejack felt a chill run down her back. She looked around her and then stepped up onto the fo’c’sle, watching the oncoming ship, and thinking.

She hadn’t prepared for any interaction at sea, and didn’t know what to even expect. Sure, there were the tropes about cannons blasting back and forth, swashbuckling ponies swinging in on ropes with swords and magic cracking, romance, adventure, all that extravagance… But that was fiction, embellishment, nothing more than a tall tale told to thrill audiences. 

Right?

She heard a heavy hooffall on the steps, and broke her gaze from the oncoming ship to see who it was. Recognizing Captain Square Sails, she gave a half-hearted nod and then looked back out while he stood next to her. 

“What’s a brigantine?” she asked, picturing a cartoonish rogue in her mind. “Some sort of war thing?”

“It’s a type of ship. Two masted, fully rigged. Smaller than ours, but not by much. They’re used for anything from mercantile to privateering, and sometimes pirates, of course.”

Applejack gulped. 

“Are uh, pirates a common issue at sea?”

“Not for the Royal Equestrian Navy, Applejack. Those cowardly types wouldn’t come near a ship as trained and armed as ours. No pirate would be so insanely dimwitted as to try.” He smirked, his eye trained upon the now-quickly approaching vessel. “Some creatures say it can’t even be done, even if they did.”

“That’s a relief,” she muttered. “I’m hardly used to sleeping at sea. Wasn’t much looking forward to fighting.”

A strong hoof clapped her back, coinciding with a loud, barking laugh. “Worry not, Applejack. I can promise there’ll be no fighting today.”

“Captain!” 

The two looked to see Due North, accompanied by First Mate, walking up the steps. 

“Done already, First Mate?”

“Er, ah, no sir, Due North was looking for you, so I—”

“Felt the need to escort her in case she got lost, did we?”

“Ah, er…” He blustered for a moment longer before simply shutting his muzzle, saluting, and racing back to the quarterdeck. As he crossed past the mast, he stopped and spun around.

“Oh, right! That ship’s approaching fast, Captain! Orders?”

“I have the new heading, Captain,” Due North muttered, stepping back a bit.

“You have your orders, First Mate! The rudder, on the double!”

“About the ship, sir! Should we prepare the cannons?”

“By the hounds of Cloudsdale, on the rudder, sailor! I’ll not threaten a merchant ship and plunge Equestria into an international incident with a country we haven’t even got diplomatic relations with! Step to!”

“A-Aye Captain!”

“I swear, that pony’s going to find himself in the brig, he keeps questioning me… Yes, Due North?”

“Uh, well, we’re luckily not actually too off course. We’ll have to correct to the southeast, though the wind is blowing north and we will face a delay for the time being.”

“Captain!” It was the lookout again.

“Celestia’s beard, what is it?”

“She’s turned to broadside and coming up fast!”

“Well are their gunports open?!”

“N-no sir—”

“Then stand down! If luck has it they’ll check if we need assistance, and perhaps we’ll be able to get that rudder fixed on time.”

“Aye Captain.”

Square Sails shook his head, walking around Due North to look at the map she was holding up with her. In the meantime, Applejack watched as the new ship slowly slid neatly next to them, coasting to a relative stop. So far as she could tell, she could only see two ponies, both earth ponies—though one of them was almost comically small—standing at the helm. The rest of the ship was clear.

“Ho there!” came a shout from the larger pony, who waved. “Rudder problems?”

In a flash, Applejack’s life turned upside down. When the earth pony finished speaking, all six gunports on their ship slid open and huge, blackened cannons slammed fully out, the clattering as they connected with the hull of their ship echoing in the corners of her mind and knocking her back from the rails.

“A shame, that, ‘cause yer bout to have a lot more!” he concluded, slamming his head back with a bellowing laugh.

“All hooves to stations! Ready the guns!” First Mate shouted, almost tripping in place as he started to run towards the stairway down.

“Belay that, sailor!” Square Sails shouted.

“Captain Square Sails! Are you mad?!”

“No,” he replied, before a blinding explosion of green flame shot out around him, causing Due North to shriek. Applejack stumbled again, back towards the railing. Where just a moment ago Square Sails had been, there was now a huge, scarred changeling, baring razor sharp canines, hissing tongue, and wearing a pegleg. 

She wasted no time, using her movement into the railing to swing two legs up into it before bucking and pressing off, leaping towards the changeling with forehooves outstretched. Before she could reach him though, he sidestepped out of the way, picking Due North up in his moth-eaten legs and cackling.

“Ah ah ah! Steady now, lass.” His horn lit up, and a crackling blade of vibrantly green energy sparked and snapped into existence, right against Due North’s now taut and shaking neck. “One more step from any of ye and the mare gets to chart a route to Tartarus!”

“You son of a bugbear,” Applejack seethed, standing up slowly but holding her place. 

“She was more bug than bear, I assure you,” he spit, before taking a step, causing Due North to squeak. He cast his purple, empty eyes across the ship, and smiled as every pony stayed perfectly still.

“Ah, fantastic, ye all can take an order. Now, I’ve just finished promising this spunky filly over here that we all won’t be fighting today. It would be a real shame,” he emphasized, pressing the staticy blade into Due North. She whimpered as fur singed black around it, muttering a prayer that Applejack could not make out. “...if any of ye were to make me break that promise. Comply and ye shall be saved! Ar ar arr…”

No pony spoke.

“Right then! Allow me to sum up yer current situation. I have a hostage. We have yer ship dead to rights, with cannons loaded and crew ready to light the fuse. The location of yer actual Captain is unknown, and I’m sure he’d really appreciate ye finding him before he runs out of air. This leaves us all with very little time, no?”

“Get to it!” First Mate snapped.

“A week ago we all had a dream! Ancient temples rising from the depths, beckoning out to all of us to seek it! I expect there be an incredible treasure, some priceless item meant to be kept out of evil hooves or stowed in a dusty museum. Why else would a Royal Equestrian Navy ship,” he said, drenching the word Royal in sarcasm, “be so far from the coast? We suspected ye ponies might know more than we did, and rightly so!

“My demand is simple. Give me the map, and ye’re free to go. Pursue us and ye’ll be destroyed without quarter nor mercy. Simple, no?” He laughed, a rough arr arr arr that had the situation been different, would have made Applejack laugh. It was very much like any pirate story she had been told.

Except now she was in one, and it was much less campy to hear it come from an actual cutthroat.

There was an extended silence again, broken only by the bobbing and rocking of the two ships.

The changeling slumped his withers, sighing.

“Or if ye’d like, we could martyr your friend before we begin? I need an answer, ye dogs!”

It seemed very clear to Applejack that there was only one option being presented.

“Nopony’ll get hurt?” she asked, fuming at him.

“Aye lass, not a scratch befallin’ one of ye.”

“And what do you plan to do with it, once you’ve found it?”

“With what, ye fool?”

He didn’t know that it was the Source they were after, Applejack realized. All they knew was they were after something valuable.

“The treasure, you parasprite! What else?”

“It be simple. We ransom it back to yer dainty princesses for a handsome sum, and then drink and ‘ore ourselves out until we croak. Isn’t it nice? Ye still get to keep whatever trinket yer after, and keep yer lives.” The creepy grin on his face snapped shut, and he straightened back up, bringing his blade just slightly into Due North’s neck. She shouted in fear or pain or both, and Applejack made her decision.

“I’m the map. You promise to let these sailors go, and I mean go, back to sea, and I’ll come with you.”

The changeling rolled his head, presumably along with his eyes. “Yer a horse, lass. Not a map.”

“The map is a set of directions only I know. If you want it, you need me, and I ain’t giving you nothing until the rest of this ship is safe from harm.”

His eyes narrowed, and the forked tongue came out, licking his lips. He opened his mouth to speak, but Applejack continued, interrupting him.

“And you need to tell us where Captain Square Sails is!”

He laughed again.

“A clever horse, even. Mayhaps I clarify our accord, then?”

Applejack sneered at him.

“Excellent. Me crew there will extend a gangplank over here, which ye shall cross slowly. Once yer aboard the Infiltrator, I let yer companion go. Once I safely make it onto me ship, and we start to make it underway, I’ll tell ye where Square Sails be. Savvy?”

“How do I know you’ll tell them?”

He rolled his eyes—maybe—again. “Ye don’t! But I ain’t giving no more a bargain than what ye got! Ye ain’t in much of a barterin’ position, lass! Do ye agree, or not?!”

Applejack took a deep breath in, trying to control herself. Righteous anger flared within her, burning her nerves and itching her hooves. She wanted nothing more than to spin around and buck this bug halfway to Equestria, but knew if she moved, Due North was dead. 

“Fine!” she shouted, tears starting to form in her eyes. 

“Brilliant! Ye make a fine negotiator, lass. I like that in a sailor. Bilge Rat!” he shouted, not turning his head from the earth pony in front of him. “Prepare our new guest transportation!”

“Aye Captain!” came the reply, and the pony leapt off their own quarterdeck and ran to the side.

“Do vermin like you even come with a name?” Applejack seethed while the long plank was slowly slid up towards the bow. 

“As a matter o’fact, it do,” he replied, smiling. “The name be Captain Keelhaul, and ye’ll do well to remember it! These waters are owned by none and ruled by me. Any who disagree shall taste blood and blade, by me word!”

Drama queen, Applejack thought, stepping up onto the board. She looked back at Due North. Her eyes were slammed shut, still whimpering, her breathing rapid. She turned her eyes forward, looking at the two earth ponies awaiting her on the other side. She looked down, past the gangplank to the deep green water between the two ships. 

And then she crossed.
> Chapter 14
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Applejack stood tall at the helm of the Infiltrator, a line of hemp rope attached tightly between each leg. She could walk, but couldn’t run, and attempting to buck would have her flat on her face. The idea of being denied the ability to buck had fueled the anger roaring within her, and her stomach actually burned with acid while she thought about it. 

While she watched, and after the gangplank had been recalled, Keelhaul had dropped his blade and shoved Due North off the fo’c’sle onto the main deck before leaping into the air and flying over to his ship. No words were exchanged, and no pony had moved, save for Stewaway who had rushed to Due North’s side and hauled her underdeck the second Keelhaul was away.

He landed next to Applejack, gave her a sharp, toothy grin, and then snapped to attention. 

“Avast, ye blaggards, anchors up and full sail! We’ll get our heading on the hour. These fine folks of the Navy have done good business with us, and must be left to be underway!”

“Square Sails,” Applejack hissed, “Or I say nothing, no matter what you do.”

Keelhaul spun about on his wooden leg, laughing. “A shrewd pony, ye really are! And I believe ye, I do. I’ve no intention to harm me new navigator. Allow us just a moment to begin our hastily retreat from ye intimidating militant friends, and Square Sails’ll be found in a jiffy.”

Creatures started to appear from below deck, but they weren’t all ponies. Applejack could see a few unicorns and other earth ponies, but she recognized a kirin and even a deer as well. She considered being curious, but decided it could wait until she wasn’t as angry.

If that time would ever come to be, now.

A few minutes later, when the sails had been put fully out and the Infiltrator started to pull away from the Croupiere, Keelhaul snapped out his wings and again hovered into the air. He moved out between the ships and shouted.

“In the officer’s cabins on the gundeck, across from where yer Royal Guest were sleepin, you’ll find yer Captain. He’s in a cocoon, and probably nursing an awful headache. Those things work well for changelings, but a pony’ll soon run out of air. I suggest ye go break it in a hurry.”

With that, and another dramatic cackle, he buzzed back over to the ship, and dropped onto the quarterdeck heavily and addressed Applejack.

“Welcome aboard the Infiltrator, lass! I’m sure ye’ll have yer doubts, o’course, but I think ye’ll find we ain’t the worst bunch in the world to be locked up with. Now. We have some finer details to be working out between us, and we best be getting to it!” He clomped around the helm, wobbling slightly as he threw out his peg leg while he walked. Standing across from the wheel from Applejack, he sat, and then flipped a hoof around near the deck. “Have a seat.”

Applejack narrowed her eyes and did not move.

“Storms and sails, ye fumin’ mare, rest yer legs! If ye’ll notice I’m already down meself. Equal footing for an equal discussion.”

“Pest,” Applejack said, standing.

Keelhaul sighed deeply. “I shoulda figured one as strong as ye would have an even tougher mind. Alright. Would ye kindly,” he dragged the word out, “have a seat? Please?”

Instead of being soothed by the pleasantry, a new wave of rage burned through her. In anger, she lifted a hoof up, ready to rush and punch the changeling before yanking her hindleg out from underneath her and tripping.

“Plea-whoah!” she cried, landing with a crash hard on her left, where she stayed and shook in anger. Keelhaul shook his head, disappointed.

“I ain’t blind nor stupid, lass. It’s awfully early for me to be advocating for trust, yet here I am doin’ so. Yer right to be angry, bein’ taken away in such a manner, and I’ll let ye beat the snot outta Half Pint once we’re done talkin’ if ye’d like, but we need to talk afore such a thing occurs.”

Applejack closed her eyes and sucked a breath in, holding it and counting down from ten. After she finished and exhaled, she felt just as mad as before, and repeated the action. Keelhaul sat patiently, perfectly silent the entire time. After a few more minutes of Applejack controlling her breathing with nothing but the blowing wind and creaking lumber around her, she felt her head was clear enough she could speak.

“What’n tarnation is wrong with you?”

“Many things, lass. Feeling better?”

“Better?! Feeling better? I’m tied up around my ankles, laying face down on a strange ship with a buncha vipers runnin’ round me, freshly kidnapped after watching you run a knife against a friend a mine’s neck! I already was having one Tartarus of a time adjusting to being thrown back and forth on a floating casket, a billion miles away from land and love, just starting to figure out how to stand up for more than an hour and then you come and rip my world out from right underneath me! You assaulted and impersonated the captain, damaged the ship, and threatened ponies' lives! Now you’ve got me on your ship, where who knows what terrible sorta things you’re gonna do to me if I don’t play fair game. Everything is awful. What in Celestia’s name has got you thinkin’ that I’m feeling better?”

Keelhaul rocked back and forth playfully, letting the words settle.

“Feeling better?”

“...A little, yeah,” Applejack replied, before shaking her head. “Hey, none’a these mind games! Just tell me what you want and then…”

Her eyes opened wide. They had clearly discussed her getting on to the ship, but nothing was said about her getting off of it. 

“...Then what?” she asked, starting to quake a little.

“Well ye listen if I talk, or do ye need to spit at me su’more?”

“What happens after I tell you where to go?”

“I’ll take that as a no, I suppose. If I tell ye what the plan is, will ye quit jabberin’ on and let me talk?!”

She nodded, cringing.

“Queen’s molding moltings, lass, yer a nightmare to work with. Right. The plan is as discussed aboard the Croupiere. Ye tell us where to go, we go get the treasure, we sail back to Silver Shoals and send a messenger to shore, whereupon they’ll get the princesses to fill the hold with bits in exchange for your artifact and safe return.”

“A-and if they don’t negotiate?”

He froze, and then went back to his gentle rocking. “Ye really think a royal champion’s not worth what is essentially pennies to the crown? Never mindin’ whatever the artifact is. Ye’ll be safe, rest assured.”

“Rest assur—”

“Oh, blast, here we go again.”

Another tirade of expletives and threats ejected from Applejack, and she shook and writhed on the oily deck while string after string of insults left her. She found herself using some phrases that even she had thought too inappropriate to ever use, and in the middle of one particularly vile one started to feel a little dirty, and shut her mouth again. 

“Eh, Captain?” a stallion’s voice came, and Applejack craned her neck to see the huge earth pony from before standing at the top of the stairs to the deck. 

“Aye?”

“Do we have a heading yet?”

“Not yet, Bilge. Our guest is still adjusting.” He squinted his eyes, looking up at one of the sails. “Dove Island, at least. It’s where the squids were going.”

“Aye aye, Captain. Dogs! Off yer rumps and step to!” 

His shout made Applejack jump. It was a deeply grating voice, one that boomed like a cannon shot and shook her chest. She tried to roll over to get a better look at him as he started yelling orders, struggling to believe a pony’s voice could even get that low.

“Aww, don’t mind him, lass,” Keelhaul spoke softly, standing up at the wheel and spinning it around a few times clockwise. “He could shatter glass with that voice, but he won’t hurt ye. None of us will, providin’ ye don’t give us good reason too,” he added, giving his head a quick tilt in her direction. “Yet there I go again threatening ye. I’m a terrible host, aren’t I?” 

Applejack found she could only sigh now. She was sore, uncomfortable, and sweaty from shouting in the sun for what felt like half an hour. Nothing made sense to her. Pirates were soulless killing machines, in every story she had heard. No chivalry, no honour; just greed and cruelty—yet Keelhaul was being strangely pleasant. The entire time he had waited and listened while she screamed at him, and spoke to her as one would a welcome visitor, as if she had asked to come aboard his ship instead of being coerced across to save another’s life.

“Alright, Keelhaul, what do you want?”

“I’d prefer a Captain if ye could manage it, but take yer time. Ye says you got yer map in yer brain, and we be needing a proper heading. Yer collateral, yes, but that don’t mean yet got to be tied up in the hold for two weeks while we recover the treasure. So, I wanted to see if yer amicable to an agreement.”

“I don’t much like your agreements so far,” Applejack muttered as the massive earth pony stepped back on deck and took over Keelhaul’s spot at the helm.

“You’re disagreeable, Captain,” he said, giving a chuckle that sounded like thunder.

“Muzzle shut and eyes forward, sailor,” Keelhaul replied, though he laughed. “I suspect ye’ll prefer this one. If’n ye’ll be so kind as to follow me into the navigation room, and clearly tell me where we need t’ be going, I’ll have those bindings cut so ye can walk. We’re a small crew, and need all the hooves we can get, so if yer willin’ to help out with the work, I’ll even let ye have free reign about the ship— minus me quarters, o’course, that goes without sayin’.”

“What, slave labour?”

“Hives, no. Ye get food and equal treatment. If we find any other treasure on the way, and ye’ve helped out in acquirin’ it, ye get an equal share as the rest of us. Ye don’t need to work if yer just gonna cause problems on purpose, though in that case I’ll have to confine ye to the brig while we sail. So, what say ye? Sweat and toil for some dignity, or laze away in a box?”

“I’ll think about it,” Applejack said, not ready to pressgang herself that quickly. “First and foremost I want to get that map done and dealt with so you can take these stupid ropes off my legs.”

“Bilge Rat,” Keelhaul said, beaming brightly.

“Aye, Captain,” the pony at the helm replied, leaning down and grabbing one end of the rope near her hoof in his teeth. He yanked once, and the entire loop fell loose to the deck. Applejack watched this happen warily and, once Bilge Rat had stepped back to the wheel, cautiously brought herself back up to standing, feeling strange.

“Captain?” Bilge Rat said as Applejack started to follow the changeling into the aft room.

“Aye?”

“If she decides to join the crew, teach her about knots,” he said, before chuckling again.
> Chapter 15
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The door swung closed behind her, causing Applejack to jump when it slammed and bounced against the frame. 

The navigation room was small, and a far cry from the more luxurious setting about the Croupiere. Small, tinted windows wrapped around the structure, giving a strange feel to the room. Keelhaul’s horn sparked, and a lantern in the centre of the room flared to life, illuminating a much smaller map table just below it, which Applejack approached.

The map that was on it was vaguely familiar to the one the navy had, but Applejack was surprised to find it was far more intricately detailed. The eastern half was relatively the same, with a few more landmarks marked on it, but the western half was entirely filled in. Actually seeing how large the South Luna Ocean was made her dizzy, but the odd numbers of marked towns and ports along a strange and unknown western coast were what really did her in. Sonder smashed into her at the thought that there were entire civilizations completely unknown to Equestria, just across the sea. She stumbled, causing Keelhaul to look back sharply in concern.

“Still ain’t got yer legs beneath ye, eh? Well, best ye wait a day or two anyways afore we get ye hauling lines and trimming sails even if ye wanted.”

“No, it’s—well, yes, that too. But there’s just… so much here. So much undiscovered.”

Keelhaul stood tall on the other side of the table, following Applejack’s beleaguered gaze to the map before bursting out into a laugh.

“Undiscovered, lass? Then who made the map? And what of the critters who live in the towns upon it? Har har har, it’s been long discovered! It’s just unknown to ye and yer kingdom. Well known to us, though.”

Applejack cringed back, slightly embarrassed. It was a little ignorant to think that just because Equestria didn’t know about it, it didn’t exist, and she felt chastised more by herself than by the chuckling changeling. Her ears drooped, but then quickly snapped back up. She was still on a pirate ship, after all. Social faux paus or not, she had to stay alert.

“Right then,” Keelhaul announced, magicking a model ship onto the map. “We’re here, headin’ this way, to Dove Island. Where should we be goin’ then, lass?”

Applejack frowned. “To Dove Island. Obviously. That’s why Captain Square Sails was going there, bugbrain.”

Keelhaul’s expression changed quickly from a sleazy grin to an unimpressed and almost hurt face of disapproval. “Thought ye’d gotten all that out on the deck, I did. My mistake, o’course. But where next? No point taking a year to sail zigzag ‘cross the Luna. 

She blinked, staring blankly at him. “Well, uh, you have to sail… portside to… the crimson steppes?”

A second passed where neither of them spoke.

“Do ye even know the map, lass, or have I been taken for the fool?”

“No! Honest! I do know it! I just don’t know what it means. None of us really did, that was why we were following it step by step, thinking the next phrase would make sense.”

Keelhaul shook his head, and then pulled out a blank roll of parchment and a quill from underneath the table.

“Ye’d make a lousy treasure hunter. Alright, let’s take it step by step then. Perhaps what your company was lackin’ were some proper experience in these waters. Cowardly squids don’t know a thing five miles past their shores.”

After considering a snarky rebuttal and realizing he was entirely correct, Applejack sat down and then furrowed her brows, remembering the poem.

“Hugged by waves of dark mystique, a white bird of peace lay resting—”

“Dove Island. Next.”

“Er, right. ‘Keep starboard true to where sun sets, and your voyage shall not be testing. Upon the portside cast eyes like nets, until you catch the crimson steppes.”

Keelhaul looked up, scratching his chin with the quill. “My apologies, Applejack. I’ll need ye to step back a bit. Did the first lines say where to depart Dove Island from? It’s the largest island on the Luna.”

“You mean the sea?”

“The Luna Sea, yea. I calls it the Luna.” He shook his head. “Well?”

“It’s ‘start your journey upon its beak’.”

“Okay, wonderful.” Keelhaul set the parchment down and returned to his map, circling a sharp point on the western side of Dove Island. “It means to say sail south and look off to the east.” He drew a sharp line from the circle towards Applejack, and then stopped right next to a smaller detail already marked. “Ah, Temple Island. Makes sense,” he muttered, circling it.

“That’s only half the map though, how can it be the island already?”

“No, no no,” he muttered, voice lowering while he focused. “That island has long been known. There be an ancient temple upon it that’s said time’s forgotten. The marble is pure and clean, and moss can’t seem to touch it. The doors are sealed solid, too. Had an old friend who once tried to raid it. Hauled a whole cannon up the island and a dozen shots. An hour later the stone was untouched, and he had lost all twelve cannon balls. Turned to dust on contact, they did.” 

“How many ancient temples are in this ocean?” Applejack mused, looking about the map.

“No more that I know of, anyways. Point bein’, it ain’t nothing new that’s climbed outta the sea anytime recently. The island itself is all blocky and segmented, the rock cleaved in clean, straight lines. Like steps of a staircase.”

“Are they red?”

“They’re stone, grey as can be. But if the sun be settin’ on the west, and it’s on the east, she’s liable to be glowing red in the dusk. Where next then?”

Applejack stood up and got closer to the map. “Below the ascendant mountain high, take not our guidance as jesting. Directly as the peg’sus fly, follow Coltlantis’ seaward eye.” She spotted the familiar landmark off the southwestern edge of Equestria, the partially submerged architectural site well known to most ponies.

“Where’s Coltlantis?” Keelhaul asked, craning his head about the map. “I ain’t ever sailed there.”

“Just off the coast of Equestria. Here,” she said, pointing.

“Ah, that be why. We steer clear of there as best we can. Yer squids may be useless on open sea but they know that coastline like the back of their hooves, and defend it with a vengeance. No haul is worth risking that over, I’ll tell ye.” He grunted, tapping a hoof on the map. “I’m afraid I’m not much use with this one. Ye know of any eyes facing the sea?”

“Well, there ain’t nopony who lives there, that’s for true.” She paced back and forth while Keelhaul watched her curiously. After a few minutes of struggling to recall the middle school lessons on ancient history, she turned back to the map. “In the center of the city, there’s a huge horse head. It’s one of the only things above the water actually, it’s so big. One eye faces the coast, and the other looks out to the sea, I guess.”

Keelhaul ran a hoof over his muzzle, considering it. “Do ye know exactly how? Is it perfectly west, or off-kilter a bit?”

“Couldn’t say. I’ve never seen it.”

“Well, we’ll start with due west and see if we can’t find whatever matches the next part. Ye said we were ‘alfway through it before this one, right? What’s the last bit?”

She cleared her throat and recited. “If true you’ve followed all our course, you’re almost done with questing. Seek those frozen lands introrse, and find safe passage to the Source.”

“So it’s called the Source, is it?”

Applejack opened her eyes, realizing suddenly who she had been speaking with. “M-maybe! What’s it to you?!”

“Calm down, lass. I already told ye we’ve no interest in whatever shiny bit yer after, just the shiny bits we get for retrievin’ it. Honestly.” He sighed deeply and returned to the map, tracing straight lines out from Coltlantis with the tip of his hoof.

“And how am I supposed to trust that?” Applejack huffed, turning her back to the captain.

“Have I lied to ye once, ye blaggard?”

“You pretended to be Captain Square Sails.”

“Y- oh, I suppose ye be right. My apologies, Applejack,” he drawled sarcastically, “but asides from that? Once I’ve been me, have I said a thing to ye that be false?”

She looked down, thinking.

“Well, no, but you haven’t said much to me to begin with!”

“I shoulda just ransomed the Croupier,” he grumbled. “Fine then! Don’t trust me then, but it be true all the same! Think about it for a moment, lass. What’s more dangerous? Some sorta whosawhatzit that certain groups of powerful creatures would do anything to get their hooves on, or a hold full of gold that only we know we have?”

“...Well…” she said, grimacing.

“Some artifact ye’ve already been waylaid for? Or bits?”

“...The artifact,” Applejack admitted.

“Exactly! My crew wants to be paid, y’see. We tend to enjoy eating food and drinking something that isn’t distilled saltwater! A shiny rock can’t get us those things, but bits can. It’s hard enough keeping crew when ye hardly know when ye can pay them, nevermind taskin’ them with guarding some hullabaloo that may nearly get themselves killed at any moment.”

“Well then why go after it in the first place, if you’re so afraid of it?”

Keelhaul stomped around the table and slammed his right foreleg—the wooden one—onto the deck, the dull thock of wood on wood echoing about the cabin. “Cause bein’ free comes with risks! There are costs to be paid to live a life of your own choosin’, and we ain’t afraid to pay it if that comes to be!” He stood there, breathing deeply, staring down his muzzle at Applejack, before dropping his voice to a low growl. “Ye may think we chose to live like this, but life gave us no other option. Ye’ll not find a one creature aboard this ship that hasn’t suffered a thousand times over than ye, I guarantee it. So forgive me,” he hissed, turning his back to her and walking back to the map, “If my decision to go after somethin’ dangerous to release ourselves from the toil of our final option seems paradoxical to ye, so be it. It’s true all the same.”

He glared at her, his chest heaving as he controlled his breathing, while Applejack stood frozen near the door. 

The filly tales from her childhood never told this type of story. It was always about a pony who was joyously cruel, who took to sea for the love of crime and danger. About a group of characters who lived in dirty, squalid conditions because they were running from the law, and didn’t care one bit about their situation; only cared about filling it with booze and beddings. Never this; never outcasts with no other option. Never those who desired easier lives but couldn’t make do. She stammered softly, confused. 

It was all too much change, way too fast. She didn’t know how much of what he said could even be trusted, of course. Could she reconcile that the ponies who had kidnapped her had done so out of desperation?

Not yet, she decided, setting her jaw.

“Well, you didn’t need to drag me into it.”

“Bah!” Keelhaul shouted, tossing a hoof up. “Like I care what you think about me. Come here.”

She did so begrudgingly.

“MARROW!” He shouted, pounding his pegleg on the floor. Applejack flinched, and then a second time as a deep, ungodly growl rolled up through the floorboards from below. It was followed soon after by the clear echo of a slamming door, and then slow thumps that slightly shook the floor.

With each whumph, the noise got closer to the quarterdeck, and the room rattled with increasing veracity. Applejack could hear a shuffling noise between each pound now, and started to picture some sort of horrific monster, summoned right out of the filly tails to do terrible things to her until she cooperated.

What punched open the door to the navigation room was not a monster, though it was hideous to her; it was a tall, hulking Diamond Dog, tricolour with brown and tan spots splotched over his otherwise white body. The fist dropped limply, coming to rest on the floor and sliding along the wood while the creature ducked down, grumbling, through the portal.

“What stupid Bugthing want now? Marrow busy!” he sneered, wrinkling his face in disgust. His eyes fell on Applejack, and he grumbled, shaking the windows of the room. “Oh, good, more dirty, fragile, weak and annoying pony to fix when they break. What you want?! This thing?” it growled, pointing a long, accusatory claw at Applejack. Part of her wanted to object to the name calling, but the other part was screaming at her to shut up, and she obliged it.

“No, that pony is perfectly fine, Marrow,” Keelhaul muttered, squinting over the parchment where he had been transcribing the directions. “I just need ye to answer a question.”

Marrow huffed. “Fine. Quick. Busy. What?”

“What does introrse mean?”

“I coulda told you th—” Applejack started, before a massive paw clamped over her muzzle.

“Shush, pony! Marrow speaking now! You talk later, when Marrow gone!” With a paw still over her face, he glared at Keelhaul, and then gave a huge grin. “Bugthing stupid. Not know what introrse means.”

“Yes, Marrow,” Keelhaul replied, uncaringly.

“Means curves inward! Like bite taken out of meat! You done now?! Marrow tired of silly ponies and their games!”

“Thank you Marrow, that will be all.”

The Diamond Dog snorted, and then spun around on his heel and ambled out of the cabin, grumbling with each step that bent the board beneath him.

Applejack stood perplexed, staring at the door long after he had left, while Keelhaul ignored her and perused the southern edge of the map.

There was a soft rumble in the distance, like a barrel rolling below deck or a sideways wave colliding against the hull, and she shook her head before grabbing Keelhaul and aligning her incredulous face with his.

She spoke softly. 

“What’n the Tartarus is that?”

Keelhaul looked into her eyes with his blank purple compounds, his expression betraying nothing but indifference. “A Diamond Dog. They tend to come from the Appaloosan caves—”

“I know what a Diamond Dog is.”

“Then why’d ye ask?” Keelhaul replied quietly, his curiosity mixing with sarcasm.

“Why is that,” Applejack pointed at the door, still holding Keelhaul’s face with her left hoof, “aboard this ship?”

“He’s part of the crew. Let go of me,” he said, just as quietly, and Applejack complied.

“You’re tellin’ me that that, that dangerous animal, is… is part of the crew?”

“Ye’d do well to let go of your problematic preconceptions,” the changeling suggested while turning back to the map. “There’s much about life at sea ye won’t be expecting.”

“But why let him treat you like that? Why so… ‘whatever’ about how he acts?! Why is he here?!”

Keelhaul threw his head up and faced her again, exasperated.

“He’s the doctor, lass. Best one I know, too. Yes, we have unicorns,” he stopped Applejack’s next question, “but they’re all specialized in combat magic or somethin’ useless. Mangy Dog’s got a cutie mark in beard trimming. Beard trimming, Applejack. I’ve met a lot o’ ponies in me time but never more than a hooffull with beards. The rest of us jus’ got hooves, and as much as he hates the sight of a pony, there’s no denying how well those claws can stitch up a wound.”

Applejack dropped to the floor, head in her hooves.

“Oh, Luna’s lights, what’ve I gotten wrapped into?” she moaned, head starting to hurt.

“Pirates,” Captain Keelhaul answered, tapping the map.
> Chapter 16
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“AHA!”

The shout startled Applejack, bringing her out of her train of thought about figuring out what she could do to escape. Her first idea was jumping ship at the first sign of land, but the knowledge that there were all sorts of dangerous sea monsters hiding anywhere in the South Luna Sea quickly ended that idea. The next thing she had considered was sabotaging their supplies, forcing them to make port. It had potential, she figured, but there was no way they would dock at an Equestrian port, and she had no clue what sort of towns the ones they would stop at would be like. Better the Discord that you know, she concluded, deciding not to risk a far less accommodating town. Then she started running back through all the old stories she remembered, thinking what the heroes and heroines had done to escape. There was Dirty Jone’s Stable, Buckbeard and the Queen Chryssy’s Revenge, even Captain Hoof that she could remember. It was when she was planning how to get a clock and a crocodile that Keelhaul had yelled, and she practically jumped up in surprise.

“Huh? What? Whazzat?” she cried, looking around her. Before landing eyes on the changeling, she glanced out the windows and grimaced. Black, billowing clouds were racing towards them—or they towards it—and the rolling of the ship was starting to increase. The recognition of the tossing waves brought immediate discomfort to her stomach, and she shrank down where she sat.

“I’ve figured it out, I have!” Keelhaul cackled, wobbling over excitedly to Applejack before pulling her—despite her resistance—up to the map table. “Look here, see? No, beside the hoof. The other— here, just...” he rambled over himself, dropping the leg sideways on the bottom of the map. “Through that hole. Oh, grow up, it’s chitin all around. See that?”

She looked through his leg, cautiously, as though it might bite, and saw a straight line of what appeared to be coastline of the Frozen Wasteland.

“I-Ice?” she guessed, confused.

“Yes! But see the difference in colour between the north and the south side?” He lit up his horn and shined a light onto the map as the clouds started to overtake them. A distant but much closer grumble of thunder reached the ship, and Applejack started to sweat.

“Uh… yes.”

“The outside part is ice sheets, large chunks of ice that float on the water. The inside part is actual land, though still covered in the stuff. See how it curves there, up and around and then levels out again?”

“Sure, but how can that be where Source Island is, if it’s all a sheet of ice?”

“Marrow might be out of line to call ye daft, but don’t go giving him proof, lass.”

“Hey!”

“It’s summer. The sheet ice is partially melted, broken up; dangerous, dangerous sailing in those parts. Like navigating a reef in the shallows. Ye’d typically never do it without somecreature who knows the location.”

“Okay, so it’s accessible, but stupid to go in blindly. That don’t sound so hopeful to me,” Applejack said, scratching her chin. 

“But think back, lass! The third stanza. Directly as Cuckoo’d fly, follow Coltlantis’s eye.”

“Cuckoo?”

He waved a hoof rapidly, shooing the question away. “Later. If I take this here, and draw a straight line directly from Coltlantis, south’a Temple Island, and to the center of this here inlet, it gives us only one way to approach.”

Applejack looked up at Keelhaul, his excitement catching on. “So you can sail directly there without needing to follow all the directions!”

“Indeed, lass! HALF PINT!” he shouted suddenly, sending Applejack flinching back.

Keelhaul stomped his pegleg a few more times, and in seconds that tiny shetland pony from before was inside, his shaggy coat drenched in water. Keelhaul blinked when he saw him, and then turned around and glanced out the windows for what was apparently the first time that day. He turned back to the pirate, whose jaw was set in a frown. 

“There be a storm,” Keelhaul said, pointing his pegleg at a window.

Half Pint presumably stared cold at him through the mess of mane over his eyes.

“Did the rest of ye notice it?”

“...Aye, Captain,” came the voice. It reminded Applejack of Babs Seed, if Babs Seed had been a smoker for twenty years.

Keelhaul chuckled awkwardly. “Have ye done anything about it?”

“...”

“Loose Cannon’s already got the sails reefed and the storm jib up, don’t he?”

Half Pint hissed through ground teeth. “Is that all you wanted, Captain?”

“Ah, no. Here. We have our heading.” He tapped the map at the spot recently circled, and Half Pint slopped over to the table, threw two hooves onto it, and hauled himself up to look.

“Now, Captain?”

“Feasibility?’

“We’ll have to run before the storm, but we can do it.”

“Right then. Off with ye, pass the order to Loose Cannon.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” Half Pint snarked, possibly rolling his eyes. Applejack couldn’t tell, but by this point in the conversation she was laying flat on the floor, eyes closed, clenching her teeth as her stomach gurgled, and wasn’t looking anyways. 

“Hmm?” Keelhaul looked down at her. The ship tilted wildly to port and then back over to starboard, heaving up and down as it did so, and he nodded. “Ah, I see. Up with ye, lass, let’s get ye to yer quarters. They ain’t luxurious but they’re on the bottom deck. The motion won’t be as dramatic down there.”

Too sick to object, Applejack let Keelhaul heave her to her shaky legs, and followed obediently as he urged her back outside. 

Stepping out into the rain, she was met by chaos. Gone were the endless blue horizons, replaced instead by blackened clouds that roiled faster than her stomach and torrential seas obscured by grey sheets of rain. The downpour immediately soaked her through, though the water was surprisingly warm, closer to room temperature than anything else. Wind buffeted her, and she pushed her hat down hard, jamming it securely on her head. 

She risked a quick glance up above and saw two unicorns, their magic wrapped around huge ropes right next to them, struggling under the strain of hauling the line back. With each coordinated step, the main sail in front of her lifted up slightly. Blocks rattled in the wind as the line ran through them, clanging noisily against the mast and railing. She ducked her head back down and followed Keelhaul’s tailfin down the stairway to the gundeck of the Infiltrator. 

The interior of the ship was strangely familiar, arranged almost identically with the Croupiere’s. On each side of the ship, four large cannons sat stowed on their tracks, with ropes and blocks lashing them into place against the rocking of the hull. Dim lanterns offered little against the dark of the deck, struggling even harder now with the miserable skies and seas. At the aft, Applejack could see the same arrangement of small cabins, but Keelhaul swung around the stairwell and kept descending, and she continued to follow him. 

Two decks down Keelhaul finally stopped, pausing while Applejack emptied her stomach over the stair rail, and spread his pegleg wide across the deck. 

“Welcome to the brig, Applejack. There’s a bucket in the corner for all yer leavin’s, and a pile of hay in the other. Should be a tad more comfortable than a hammock, though don’t expect much.” He stepped forward, unlocking the iron door separating the aft section from the rest of the deck, and then stepped aside. 

Bleary eyed, Applejack looked at him, bemused. 

“Oh, come off it!” he griped, stomping a hoof. “Yes I’ll be lockin ye in, but yer welcome out whenever ye ask. Ye and I both know that I can’t trust ye yet, and I ain’t gonna put me crew in danger by lettin’ ye run free and sabotage the ship. Plus,” he said, glaring at her, “yer sicker than a shark in freshwater, and I’m offering ye a bed.”

Applejack sighed, nodded, and then walked forward, letting Keelhaul latch the cell door shut behind her without further argument. 
> Chapter 17
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

She didn’t know how she had managed to do it, but she had slept.

Thinking back on it while her eyes started to crack open, stinging and red, it was likely the combination of high stress, continual sickness, and—although indeed more gentle at the bottom of the ship—constant rocking back and forth, that had eventually lulled her off to sleep. She shifted slowly on the pile of hay, looking around to try and judge the time. After noting that there were no windows and the deck was just as dimly lit as before, she grunted and gave up, shifting onto her hindquarters to let the sleep drain away.

There was a intense thump that echoed through the floorboards, cluing Applejack in to what had woken her up. A second one followed, rattling manacles bolted against the far wall that she just now noticed, feeling grim. It was getting louder, and closer towards her.

She spun around on her straw bed to watch the stairs, and jumped up when she saw the shape of the huge Diamond Dog lumbering down the steps, fists clenched hard. He caught her eye, causing her to leap back, standing tall and trying to hide a shiver in the corner of the cell, and he grumbled at her.

“Nyeeh. You. Pony. You’re troublesome, just like the other ponies!”

“W-What do you want?”

He scoffed. “Typical pony! Scared. Can’t handle water.” He stepped closer to the cell, looming down over Applejack. “Can’t handle shaking! Stupid. Take.”

Applejack looked down curiously as he opened the clenched fist to reveal a root of ginger. She raised her head back to him, jaw dropped. “F… for me?”

“Pony don’t want? Stupid. It make you feel better. Stronger. Less gross and sick! Take.” He thrust the ginger forward, passing it through the bars with two claws. 

Applejack gulped and stepped forward, eying him warily, before grabbing the ginger and—when the claws let go as she gripped it—pulling it away.

“...Thank you,” she said, lowering her head. “Sorry I’m so suspicious.”

Marrow grunted. “Pony feelings don’t bother Marrow. Ponies waste all their time and energy being dramatic! Then they get sick. Come to Marrow to get better.” He shook his head. “Then chase him away when they heal. Stupid, stupid.” He turned his back to Applejack and started walking back up the steps, muttering ‘stupid’ with each step.

“Hey, hold on!”

He froze near the top of the deck. “What now?”

“What, uh, time is it?”

“Sunrise. Loose Cannon is cooking. Will bring breakfast to you soon.” He paused, his jowls cracking into a big, menacing grin. “Might make you sick, but no need to worry. Loose Cannon not murder you. Just bad cook.” He laughed, continuing his clamber back up the stairs.

Applejack returned to her corner, watching the stairwell long after Marrow had left, eyebrows tilted in confusion. It felt like she was being pranked. She wished she was just being pranked. But as her hoof scraped against the old, splintering lumber of the deck, feeling the years of oil and washing through it, she knew it was real. Sighing, she slumped her head back against the wall. All too real.

But at least there was ginger, she acknowledged, taking a small bite of the root and chewing it slowly, making sure to get as much out of it as she could. It was fresh, moreso than the one she had on the Croupiere, and her nose tingled from the refreshing spiciness. The juice filled her mouth quickly, which she was thankful for as it cut through the dryness on her parched tongue. 

About half an hour later, after she had finished her ginger and taken to pace the cell to stretch her legs, the stairs creaked again with another set of steps. She sat down near the back of the cell again, jaw set and muscles tensed.

A unicorn rounded the corner; a tall, lanky stallion with pale blue coat and a dark orange mane, carrying a tray in his magic. He was smiling almost jovially, his eyes practically closed and teeth put on display, though when he saw Applejack sitting solemnly in the shadows he froze, and faltered.

“Ah,” he said after a moment, his smile returning, “You haven’t met me yet, and think I’m some cutthroat here to intimidate you, yes?”

Applejack nodded slowly. “A fair assessment, yup.”

“What did Marrow tell you about me, then? He did bring you something to help your seasickness, right? I asked him too.”

Again she nodded slowly. “He did. Said you might poison me.”

His jaw dropped. “Marrow? That son of his mother. I know he didn’t like any of us but to go and tell—wait. It was about my cooking, wasn’t it?”

“Eeyup” she concluded, tilting her head towards the tray. “You’re Loose Cannon, then?”

“Last I checked. Nice to meet you, though I’m sure you disagree. Perhaps with time… though I’m likely foolish for getting my hopes up. Sorry about the whole kidnapping business, though.”

She looked to the floor and shook her head. “To Tartarus with you and your apologies.”

“Oh, dear, I’m already halfway there,” he sighed, stepping up to the door and opening it. He set the tray down on the floor, halfway between him and Applejack, and then slumped down against the outside of the cell, facing the stairway. “Not that it’s any mind to you. Breakfast is hot oats and an apple.”

Applejack watched the tray as if it might attack, and then came forward and drug it back to her spot. It was indeed as he had said; a wooden bowl with a ladleful of wet oats that steamed slightly, a water canteen, and a fairly fresh looking apple. She tasted a mouthful of oats and then sat down, cringing.

“Look, I know I shouldn’t complain about being fed and all, but this is supposed to be oatmeal?” She glanced at it and shuddered. “Do you know anything about oatmeal?”

“Dearie, my cutie mark is in marksmanship.” He shifted, raising his flank to display a cannonball colliding with a target. “Everything else is me trying my best.” He chuckled, resting his head between two bars. “You think I’m bad, though, you should see the rest of the crews. They complain, but it’s better me than them.”

“None of you can cook?”

“If we could we’d have gotten hired quickly somewhere fancy like Manehattan. Or at least hired somewhere. Even Port Horse is always full of restaurants looking for chefs.”

“Port Horse?”

He looked at her out of the corner of her eye. “Ah, right, new to the sea and all. It’s the major trading location on the South Luna Sea. Smack dab on the entrance to Moonbridge river, which is the only passage up to the North Luna Sea.”

“They’re connected?” 

At this Loose Cannon faced her fully. “You Equestrian folks really don’t know much about the western hemisphere, do you?”

“Aren’t you Equestrian?”

He shook his head. “Nah. I was born and raised in Port Horse, actually, which might have been founded by Equestrians, but this would have been like a thousand years ago or something.” He turned his head up, thinking. “I don’t think there’s really a nation of any sorts around it. Nothing concrete, anyways. Lots of deer and gryphon tribes and villages scattered about the plains further in, but I don’t know anything about it. No, creatures stay and live in Port Horse because it’s free from any sort of outside rule, and there’s a lot of gold to be had charging access between the two seas.”

“Has anypony founded a toll port on the northern edge?” Applejack asked, the business savvy part of her brain urging her to find out. She picked up another spoonful of the ‘oatmeal’, ignoring how it was mostly just warm oat soup.

“I’ll admire your clever thinking, but if you weren’t so out of touch from here I’d laugh at you.”

“What’s wrong with the idea?”

“The northern inlet is technically Yakyakistanian, even though nopony lives there. Every couple years or so they send a raiding team and demolish any non-Yak outposts. So, yeah, bit of a nonstarter there.”

“...Huh,” Applejack said, swallowing another mouthful. Loose Cannon laughed, slapping a knee.

“You don’t have to eat that to make me feel better.”

“I’ve lost most of the food I’ve eaten for the last three days, so it’s best I get something down,” she sighed. “Besides, the apple looks like a nice palate cleanser. It’s uh, you didn’t do anything to this, didja?”

“Just picked it out of a barrel, dear. If it’s bad, let me know. Likely the rest of them would be too.”

The rest of the meal passed in silence, with Applejack slowly finishing the bowl and finally, with some degree of relief, taking a bite into the apple. It almost burst with juices, the solid flesh crackling as she chewed. Her eyes widened in the first display of glee she had had since Canterlot.

“Mmph. Apples good,” she spoke around the fruit, chewing happily. “Real good. Phanks.”

“You’re welcome, dear. I’ve got to head back up myself now, so unless you plan on joining us on deck, hauling lines and setting sails, I’ll have to lock you back in for the time being.”

Apprehension ran up her withers, and she shook her head. “One meal and a bit of ginger ain’t enough to win my heart over, honeycrisp.”

“Fair enough. Do you have anything to keep you occupied?”

She blinked. “I might have something,” she said, not wanting to reveal to the pirate that she still had the knife in her saddlebag. “Tell me, you got any spare bits of lumber?”

Without speaking Loose Cannon lit up his horn, walked over to a pile of splintered and broken pieces of wood swept up into a corner, and levitated a few assorted chunks into the cell, setting them opposite the bucket. 

“If you need anything, o’course, or say the hull springs a leak and you’re starting to drown, don’t be afraid to scream high tartarus.”

“Reassuring,” Applejack scoffed, though she did smile. 

After Loose Cannon had left, she settled down on the pile of hay on her back, and pulled out the collection of letters. Four of them left, she counted, and as she went to crack the seal on one she paused, wondering how much longer her journey might take. Was she rushing through them? She didn’t want to waste Luna’s words, but at the same time she definitely felt like this counted as one of those times she needed them. 

It should only be a few days until they reached Source Island, and then from there home would be about a week, if she had learned anything about how far the ships could travel in a day. If things seemed like they were going to take longer, then she would ration the letters out to herself, but if it looked like she was on the home straight, then she could read them without guilt.

Happy with that logic, she snapped the wax on the letter and opened it slowly, pulling out the clean parchment with familiar royal letterhead.

Applejack,

    You have opened one of these letters, meaning you’ve decided you needed some words from home. I don’t know if this is the first or last of what you’ve opened, but I hope it brings you as much comfort as the rest do.

    Being far away from home can be difficult. I hope you can forgive me for bringing up my own troubled past—typical of me, no?—but I have much experience with this. I speak not of my imprisonment in the Moon, however, but of times before. Times when I would crusade against the cruelties of night, removing the jagged edges of darkness so the ponies of Equestria could sleep and enjoy the softer aspects, like sleep and love.

    Oftentimes I would find myself far, far from home, trailing some monster that had been terrorizing citizens in settlements on the borders or even in foreign lands, stopping some sinister creature before it could gain a foothold in our Kingdom. Alicorn or not, I was not excluded from those same sorrowful feelings of loneliness and homesickness. Unfortunately, I did not have letters from one who cared, nor did the ponies who slept safely behind the walls I guarded appreciate or even recognize the work I had done, and it ate away at me until I became one of the very same monsters I sought to destroy.

    I write this not to scare you or give you worry. Those times are gone, and I have learned my own lessons. Know this, Applejack. Your sacrifice and separation are not in vain. You are recognized, and appreciated. Upon your safe return, I know your family and friends will be there to celebrate your triumph. I too wait impatiently to see you again. 

    Muzzle high and hooves forward, Applejack. You shall see the moon rise over Sweet Apple Acres before too long.

    Your guiding star,

    Luna

She set the letter down on her chest, cheeks blazing and full with a small smile. Even as she looked around at the brig, surrounded by dim, stained lumber that creaked and stank of oil, the hoofsteps of pirates and thieves rattling the roof above her, she couldn’t help but smile. She wished she could reply, send some sort of message of thanks back. She already had so much to tell Luna, and it had hardly been a week at sea. 

A chuckle escaped her smile, a low one that came with the welling of tears in her eyes, which she wiped. Alicorns above, it hadn’t even been a week! She tucked the letter away in its envelope and back into the saddlebag before collapsing back onto the hay, staring at the low ceiling. The tears overflowed, running down her cheeks until they met her mane, and as thoughts of what the next week might look like given her current rate of setbacks started to run wild in her mind, the smile started to fade.

She sobbed for a while, quietly, weakly, pathetically to her. She was supposed to cry on the inside. Solid, untouchable Applejack, everypony’s rock, rooted to the ground deeper than the oldest trees on the farm. She wasn’t supposed to ever actually cry, yet here she was, streaks of her orange coat darkened by the streams of tears that flowed, eyes stinging, throat swollen and catching.

She didn’t know how long it was before the wave of emotion finally settled, her own mind finding calmer waters than the storm that had just passed. Standing up she shook herself like a wet Winona would before grabbing the water canteen and drinking heavily from it. The thought passed through her mind that she might want to ration it out, but she couldn’t bring herself to care at this point. It certainly seemed like Keelhaul’s crew would bring her more if she needed or asked for it, though she still wasn’t certain. How long would the pleasantries last until that same crackling green sword that he had held to Due North’s neck came plunging down through her back? She shuddered, forcing herself to think of the letter instead, and the warmth it had brought her.
> Chapter 18
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next couple days had passed slowly yet uneventfully. Loose Cannon had brought breakfast down each morning, that same selection of slop and an apple with fresh water, and chatted lightly while she ate. She learned that the weather had been fair and they were making good time; if she had noticed a lingering chill throughout the ship, it was because they were now sailing along the coastline of the Frozen Wastelands, where the perpetual winter fought with the summer sun’s warmth. The conflicting temperatures typically lead to numerous storms, but they had been lucky so far; a solid, consistent wind had been pushing them along, so aligned that they had been on a dead run for the last twenty-four hours with no sign of change. 

The third afternoon aboard the Infiltrator brought the first bit of action into her life. While slowly carving a chunk of wood into the closest approximation to a sphere as she could get, she heard the ship’s bell start clanging, and voices rang throughout the ship. Curious, she put her makeshift workshop away and stretched up towards the roof, straining her ears to make out the words.

“...off the starboard side! All hooves on deck! Double time!”

It was Loose Cannon, she figured, frowning. The voice was definitely his, but the words came sharp and intimidating, none of the airy lilt she had caught in it from their breakfast chats remaining. While she listened, a reply came.

“Powder Keg and Flintlock on the guns! Prep the cannons but don’t open the holds just yet!”

It was Keelhaul, and he too had went from dramatic—if slightly confused—to a purely commanding tone. She started to sweat.

Two dull thumps echoed through the ship. Keelhaul’s pegleg, she realized, as a shout rang throughout.

“CUCKOO!”

“Caw!”

“Cut it, ye blaggard, and speak yer sighting!”

There was a reply of a series of squawking noises.

“Can ye see’er, Dogs?”

“Aye Captain,” came two new voices, perfectly in unison. One of them continued. “She’s a three masted barque, tacking east like Cuckoo said.”

“Keep an eye on ‘er,” Keelhaul said. “If she makes any move towards us, we go to stations. For now, we carry on. Savvy?”

“Aye Captain,” came the response, a chorus of what was likely the whole crew. 

An uneasy silence filled the air, and Applejack slid down to her hay, contorting her face in worry. A couple minutes later she stood up, pacing around the small cell. Was she about to get caught in a battle between two ships? Again, her mind went soaring back through her childhood storybooks, something she was starting to find frustrating. Time and time again she was being shown that they were wrong; exaggerations, make-believe, with hardly a trace rooted in reality. Still though, the idea of two ships at sea in a battle rattled her. 

She looked about her quarters, grimacing. If blasts of cannonballs were to come through, she would have nowhere to hide; no cover to dive behind and no distance to run away. Just stuck in a cage, waiting for shots of solid steel to blast through out of nowhere and into her. 

It was as she was starting to sweat about this when the familiar three steps and a klunk of Captain Keelhaul’s gait sounded down into the deck, and she stiffened up, watching the stairs.

The changeling met eyes with her and then nodded, tipping a tricorn that had been jammed down on his head, the jagged horn unceremoniously ripped through in the front. “Afternoon, Applejack,” he said, unlocking the cell door before sitting down a foot away. “Bored yet?”

Her heart was still pounding. “Surprisingly, no,” she said sarcastically.

“I suspected ye heard that hullabaloo up above, yes?”

She nodded.

“Nothin’ to worry yer mane off about now. The other ship’s gone off the horizon, and we’ve entered the sheet ice proper now. All things considered we should see yer island by moonrise.”

Applejack’s ears perked up at the term, and Keelhaul started before a wide grin slowly spread across his muzzle. 

“Ahh, the sweet taste of love. Not too often we sense it round these parts. Somepony at home ye fancy?”

Her eyes went wide, and she blushed uncontrollably. “W-what? No, no, it’s not like that. She—” Applejack paused, quickly considering how much she wanted Keelhaul to know about who exactly she was. “It’s the night itself. I’ve always loved them, especially moonrises. I-It’s supposed to be a full moon tonight, right?” she realized, quickly counting how many days had passed. It had been so long since she had seen the sky she had forgotten all about it. “Fills my heart with awe, it does.”

“Uh… huh…” Keelhaul said, his coy smile still mocking Applejack. He sniffed lightly, and then shrugged. “Listen, lass, ye don’t need to play cold and dead to me. I ain’t gonna go after any of yer loved ones or nothing. And ye can’t hide yer feelings from me, so don’t even bother. Changeling, remember?”

Applejack sighed. “It’s just a crush,” she admitted, “nothing more. You put two ponies together in a room and have them talk about a mutual interest long enough and at least one of them is gonna feel things about the other, that’s just how life works.”

“Oh, spare me,” Keelhaul chided, tilting his head in a motion Applejack decided must be his eyes rolling. “Ye tease me with a taste of love and spoil it with self-pity, and after all this hatred and anger pouring from this deck in the last three days.” He tsked, and then stood up. “But perhaps we can help each other out.”

“Ugh, what now?”

“Yer such a beam o’ sunlight. Would ye like to stand above deck as we approach the island? We won’t be crossing to it ‘til sunrise, but all the same I feel it’s important to ye.”

“...Okay, I’ll bite. I’m interested, but what’s in it for you?”

“Damp grains and apples don’t do much for changelings. Having some positive emotions round the deck do far better for keepin’ me fed. Just come up, enjoy the night, and then retire for the evening. Ye can even eat supper with the crew, if ye’d so be inclined.”

It was tempting, and despite a quick wracking of her brain for theories as to how he was going to exploit her, she couldn’t think of any. 

“Uh, who’s cooking?”

“It’ll be a plate a’ hay, a lime, and a mug of cider. Ahh, there it is again,” he said, cheeks puffing up as he inhaled deeply. “Is the cider also attached to a certain special somepony?”

“Eenope,” Applejack said, standing up tall and ears perked. “I was a little hesitant but you would not be-lieve how badly I could use a drink. You’ve got yerself a deal, Keelhaul.” She stuck a hoof out, and he barked a piratey laugh and bumped his hoof with hers, shaking.

“That’s the spirit! Come now, it’s time ye met the crew proper. At least then ye’ll have some names to spit with venom when ye tell yer story back home,” he laughed.

She followed him up to the top of the Infiltrator, though when she stepped up on deck a blast of freezing wind cut straight through her to the bone, and she yelped. 

“Celestia’s tail ties, it’s colder than a Manehattan mare’s mother-in-law out here!”

“Ah, yes, shoulda warned ya. Clear skies make for great stargazing, lass, but without the clouds the heat all floats away. We’d give ye some cloud cover, but our resident pegasus isn’t good for anything except maybe distracting enemies.” He thumped his pegleg into the main mast twice as they passed it, and a loud squawk issued from up above.

Applejack watched as a pegasus leapt up from the crow’s nest and started circling the ship, complaining with noises that sounded all the world to her like a seagull. They soared around the mast slowly, coasting down before finally settling onto the deck with a series of hard flaps that sent dust and ice blasting towards the two of them.

He looked like a fuzzy peach. Feathers stuck out this way and that, and his faint orange coat was thick and fluffy. An unkempt mane, tinted a dull red that seemed to glow in the night, was blown back and hung off his shoulder to the right. Her first impression was that he was probably incredibly soft. Her second impression was that he was clearly insane, and as if to emphasize that feeling he promptly started scratching the deck by kicking his hind legs out, and pecking his muzzle into the lumber.

“Applejack, meet our watchpony, Cuckoo. He’s harmless, almost painfully so. Here,” he said, levitating a satchel full of dry oats over to her, “toss him a handful of these.”

For a moment she felt it was inequine to treat another pony in such a way but, at Keelhaul’s urging, allowed curiosity to take control for a moment. Despite herself, she burst out laughing as Cuckoo went mad over the scattered oats, peppering the deck with his snoot as he rapidly picked up oats one by one, pausing only to chew and swallow once his cheeks were full.

After clearing the deck faster than any chicken back on the farm would have, he looked up at her and they locked eyes.

“Ahh,” Keelhaul sighed. “Amazing how much love he’ll give for just a few seeds. Oh, don’t worry, he’ll have forgotten all about ye by the next time he’s hungry.”

“This is so stran—Hey!”

Cuckoo had stepped forward, eyeing the satchel wildly, and began jabbing his nose into Applejack’s chest, ferociously pecking her. 

“Best drop the satchel, lass, else he’ll bruise ye,” Keelhaul laughed, carrying on towards the stern. She did so, watching Cuckoo’s wings explode into a flurry of excited flaps as his muzzle followed the satchel to the ground and jabbed at it furiously, and then jogged after Keelhaul.

She caught up to him next to the helm and started looking around. It was a beautiful night; the waves were gentle and consistent, there were indeed no clouds, and the setting sun was painting the sky in gorgeous oranges and reds. A steady wind blew the ship forward, and Applejack shivered again, shirking down <helplessly> against the bitter chill. 

Silently, a kirin walked up the steps of the quarterdeck and then stood next to Applejack, staring blankly out at the ship and saying nothing. Applejack glanced at her quizzically, and sidled over closer to the rail. The kirin mirrored her movement, staying about a foot away from Applejack, who was now eyeing her with suspicion. Still, she did not talk.

“Alright,” Applejack finally broke the silence, “What’re you playing at?”

The kirin did not move her head, but looked at Applejack out of the corner of her eye.

“You’re cold, right?”

“...Uh, yeah.”

“But are you though?”

Applejack frowned, and then clued in. She didn’t feel cold. Sure, when a particular gust of wind rose up and snapped the sails out, a sting would sink through her coat. But just standing there next to the kirin, she felt no more cooler than she would on a fall afternoon. She looked up smiling, and opened her mouth to thank her.

“Don’t.”

“Th-what?”

The kirin finally brought her head to bare. “Don’t say thanks. This doesn’t mean anything. I don’t need help and don’t help others.”

“...But you’re—”

“I’ll leave.”

“Nevermind,” Applejack said, dramatically sealing her lips. She glanced back at Keelhaul with a question in her eyes. He just shrugged and shook his head, mouthing “I don’t know” to her.

She stayed there looking east, watching as the blackness of night slowly ate away at the scarlet blend above, enjoying the residual heat that emanated from the kirin’s body. As the sun started to cross the western horizon, Applejack hesitantly reached out and tapped the kirin on her side.

“What?” she snapped.

“I just, uh… I’m Applejack.”

“I know,” she said, looking away coldly.

“...And you are?”

“Powder Keg.”

“Well, uh, nice to meet you Powder Keg. I guess. Maybe?”

Powder Keg squinted. “Whatever.”

Applejack left Powder Keg to her sulking, trying her best to ignore the strange creature while watching the eastern horizon carefully. That same light from her favorite dream breached the end of the earth, and as the moon fully raised into view, Applejack felt a warmth touch her that was far more comfortable than the heat provided by the sullen kirin. She walked down the railing, coming to the very aft of the ship, watching the moon lift into the sky with a smile in her eyes.

“Ahhhh, that’s good,” Keelhaul muttered with exaggerated sleaziness.

“Hush up, critter,” Applejack chastised, but she didn’t stop beaming. As the moon rose high into the sky, so too did her spirits; seeing the celestial body struck her profoundly as she realized that no matter where she was on Equus, she could always see the same night sky as somepony else. Through the moon, she was connected to home and to those she loved, and to those who would be helped and appreciative of what she was doing. Luna’s letter played through her mind again, feeling even more important now.

Probably thirty minutes later she finally turned her gaze from the myriad of stars and galaxies spread out behind the ship. She had gotten lost in them, finding a few familiar ones far from their normal homes, and many others she had never seen before. She recognized Hydras and nodded as the arrow pointed straight behind the ship and presumably, home. 

Startled to find Powder Keg gone, she looked down to see a small layer of ice building on her hooves. Keelhaul was still there, forelegs resting lazily on the wheel.

“She left ten minutes ago, down to the mess. Ye’d best be off to eat afore ye freeze to death.”

“Aren’t you cold?” she asked, kicking the ice off.

“Cold blooded, I think, but I can burn emotional energy to stay whatever temperature I like. Asides,” he added quietly, eyeing her, “Since when have ye cared about how I feel?”

“...Er,” Applejack said, conflicted. Part of her wanted to be nice. The other part was still painfully hurt. She was a little shocked to see how fast the first was overtaking the other.

“Ye’ve got a large heart and kind soul,” Keelhaul said, spinning the wheel slightly in response to a very minor shift in the wind. “Ye don’t meet many like it out at sea, nor any of the lawless settlements out west.” He sighed deeply. “There’s a reason the Queen keeps invading Equestria and not anywhere else, lass.”

She looked away from him, following lines of rope up from the rails to the sails, saying nothing.

“Ponies like you tend to get taken advantage of easily,” he continued. “Ye care too much. Puts ye in difficult spots where the answer’s only easy if yer cruel.”

He looked up high, watching the sails billow out. 

“Though if life’s full of easy answers, I don’t figure it’s worth going through. I tried to say this the last time we spoke, though I didn’t get me point across the way I wanted.” He tapped his wooden leg against the helm for emphasis. “Difficult things are worth doing for the end result, usually.”

Another moment of silence.

“I ain’t gonna wax on about bein’ right nor wrong, as my right and yer right can be two different things o’course. I canne justify to ye that what we did was right in the grand scheme a’ things.” He turned to Applejack, meeting his purple compound eyes with her emerald irises. “Though I hope maybe ye’ll accept some day what we did was right for me crew.”

“You sure care a lot about what I think of you,” Applejack finally responded, staring off to the north. “Doesn’t seem very piratey to me.”

Keelhaul scoffed playfully. “How many pirates have ye met before us, lass?”

“None. Woulda preferred to keep it that way.”

“Aye, that be fair and true, but all the same. If we’re all ye know for reference, aren’t we the piratiest pirates ye know?”

She smiled before getting up and walking down the steps.

“Let’s hope that stays the case, then,” she said, heading towards the lower deck for supper.

“Let’s hope so,” Keelhaul muttered to himself, taking just a moment to glance northeast where that passing ship had been earlier in the day.
> Chapter 19
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Glad you could join us! Don’t worry, I didn’t cook tonight. It ain’t hot, dear, but it’s good at least!”

Loose Cannon had erupted from his seat as Applejack walked in the mess, quickly grabbing a plate of the aforementioned hay and cider that Keelhaul had mentioned and placing it at a spare spot at the table. His grin stretched the corners of his muzzle, and as Applejack sat at the spot he clapped her hard against the back, cheering.

“So, Keelhaul convinced you to come out of your cage, did he? What did it? The meal I didn’t cook, or the cider?”

In answer, Applejack grabbed the tankard from the tray and brought it to her mouth, taking a deep draught. She was halfway done chugging the cup when she froze, the beverage foaming up out of her mouth as she coughed and sputtered.

“Wassamatter, lass,” Half Pint jeered from across the table, “Too strong for you?”

“Where’d you get this?!” Applejack demanded, slamming the tankard onto the table. The cramped room fell silent at the outburst, before Bilge Rat came out from the galley, holding his own mug.

“On rare occasions pirates stupider than us will attack a merchant ship along the Equestrian coast. We trade goods as we get them, generally; there’s a couple ports that are completely lawless, moreso than Port Horse. This keg came from there.”

“Let me see it,” she said, standing up and walking around the bar, following Bilge Rat’s pointing hoof. When she reached the barrel, she rolled it over and inspected the front, before starting to laugh.

“What? Something wrong?” the deer on the crew asked, poking one of the unicorn twins in the temple with his antler as his head tilted in curiosity.

“This is mine,” Applejack said, wiping tears from her eyes.

“Tartarus’ teets it is,” Half Pint snapped. “Nothing on this ship ‘cept the stuff in your saddlebag is yours.”

“No, this is mine. I made this batch. Look,” she said, pointing at the etched wood on the top of the barrel. This is the brand for my farm.” She peered closer at it, scraping a bit of dirt off from below the label. “Three years ago. Good year too, we had almost no junk apples. Made lots, sold most of it and drank the rest. I remember Las Pegasus making a big order for one’a their casinos. The shipment went and the money came in.” 

She turned back to the crew, confused. “But if this is here, that means they never got their order. I had no idea any of this was lost.”

“Casino, eh?” Loose Cannon said. “Well, big companies like that usually have huge insurance sums, as do the ships that carry them. Las Pegasus probably shrugged it off, made a claim once the shipment was lost, and procured something more local.”

“That would explain why they’ve never ordered from us since…” she mused, coming back to her seat. “Honestly, I ain’t gonna complain. I got my bits, and now, halfway round Equus, I get to drink a touch of home.” With that, she grabbed the tankard back up, drained it, and belched.

“S’cuse me,” she added.

The crew erupted into cheers, whistling and laughing before cheersing their own mugs together and drinking. The energy stayed up for most of the meal, with jokes and jabs being traded back and forth as they ate and drank, and with the lubrication of alcohol Applejack started to learn a bit more about the pirates of the Infiltrator.

The first thing she was told was to stay out of the twins’ way. Mangy Dog, and her brother, Scurvy Dog—or was it the other way around, Loose Cannon muttered to the side—were definitely cursed, and it was best to just let them do whatever they were doing. Even if it was a one pony job, and having four hooves instead of two would make things worse, just let them get on with it, he cautioned. 

Mangy—or Scurvy—Dog heard this, and nodded. “It’s not a bad curse, really,” she said. “So long as we stick together, everything is fine. If we try to do different things, or if somecreature forces us to work separately, stuff starts breaking.”

“Is it a curse or do you both just start breaking things because you want to be with your sibling?” Applejack asked. She saw Half Pint get struck with the realization of the possibility for what was likely the first time, flinching backwards even as he twisted in his seat to see the unicorns bearing sly grins.

“Nope,” the brother replied, shaking with a chuckle. “Definitely cursed.”

“Entirely cursed,” the sister added.

“Besides,” they continued together, “What if you tested that theory and you were wrong? Then it’d be your fault.”

Applejack slowly rotated away from them, looking fearfully at Loose Cannon.

“Do they—”

“Practice that sentence? Not that I’ve seen. They do that a lot too.” He sucked back a swig of cider. “Makes me believe the whole curse business, it does.”

She returned to the twins, staring cautiously at them. They winked at her simultaneously, and she shivered.

“Alright, alright, I get it,” she conceded, grabbing a mouthful of dry hay. As far as solid substance went, it was the best meal she had had all week, and it hadn’t even been salted. “So which one’a ya is Mangy and which is Scurvy?” she asked through a full mouth.

“That one,” they replied, pointing at each other.

“Oh, I see. Well I’mma call you Mangy—” she said, pointing at the mare, “And you can be Scurvy. That alright?”

The two nodded in unison, smiling wide, and Mangy Dog spoke.

“You pick up quickly,” she said, before taking a huge bite of her lime, skin and all. 

“Most others just stay confused or demand to know which is which,” Scurvy Dog said, picking up another stalk of hay and snacking on it.

“It’s good fun to watch them bluster about it,” Mangy said.

“But it’s also kinda nice to not have to deal with it,” Scurvy said.

“Oh, I’ve spent plenty of time around colts and fillies and the games they play,” Applejack said, winking. “I’ve got a sister myself who throws an awful fit if you don’t play along with her.”

She left the twins to finish their meal, poking Loose Cannon in the ribs and leaning towards his ear.

“Huh? Wazzat?”

“What’s up with Powder Keg? She was up on deck with me but was locked up tighter than a librarian.”

Loose Cannon glanced over at the Kirin who was standing up in the corner, slowly grinding her teeth on a smoldering bundle of hay while glaring at the room.

“Resident tough kid,” he said loudly, “Aren’tcha, Keggy?”

“Bite me, gelding,” she snapped.

“I’d chip a tooth on that frozen heart of yours, you crazy kirin,” he replied sweetly. “Like the twins, she has her own game to play. You have to act scared and pretend to walk on coals around her, and she’ll jump in front of a cannonball for you if she thinks it’ll keep up the image of her being a terrifying hardass.”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“We all have our games, really. Cuckoo’s playing on a different level of chess than the rest of us, o’course, but we’ve all got our things.”

“What’s your game?” Applejack asked, avoiding eye contact with Powder Keg; though from the corner of her eye she could see the act of being wary seemed to bring a smile to the kirin’s face.

“I’m a damn good sailor and know how to run a ship better than any pony on land or sea. But I’m also very kind, which is a rather major setback to being a captain.” He swirled his cider, looking at the deck above him. “Captain Keelhaul knows this, and lets me pretty much run the show so long as we aren’t in battle. Then it’s his time to shine. Unorthodox, yes, but it works for us. Plus the crew gets to blame the Captain if I screw up or make anyone mad, and he just eats the anger up and bulks up.”

“That is one thick changeling,” Applejack agreed, biting into her lime. The citrus mixed delightfully well with the cider, and she made a mental note to order limes for the fall to sell on the side.

“Heh,” she chuckled. “On the cider.”

“Huh?”

“O-oh, uh, n-nothing important.”

“You doing alright there dear? Two tankards isn’t too much for a farmer like you, is it?” Half Pint mocked.

“I could drink your weight and still buck a quarter-acre in an hour,” she replied, earning a sharp “What!?” in reply.

“Half Pint’s game,” Loose Cannon laughed, “Is having the same amount of anger as any typical earth pony, but it’s all condensed down into the size of a chihuahua and gone critical. He hates having his size made fun of, and generally threatens to unmake whoever made the comment.” He chewed on his own lime. “Usually wins, too.”

“Oh, I’m sorry Half Pint,” Applejack said, to which the shetland gave her a look of utter disgust.

“No no no, don’t do that,” Bilge Rat said, placing a massive hoof on Half Pint’s head and pinning the pony to his position. “Don’t apologize. He wants ponies to make fun of his size.”

“But he just said—”

“That I hate it, yes,” Half Pint fumed. “But what I hates more is being treated all soft like, as if I’m still a colt!”

“Well then what do you like?”

The question stunned him.

“Er,” he stammered, “You know, I hadn’t quite thought of it yet.”

“Well, get on it,” Applejack admonished. “Clearly it ain’t gettin’ manecuts, but I’m sure you’ll think of something.” She winked at him, and surprisingly, he grinned back, growling a low laugh.

“Bilge Rat doesn’t have a game,” Loose Cannon said. “He’s the ship’s rock. If you tell him to do something, he does it. If something needs doing, he does it. If somepony’s acting out of line, he stops them and sets them right.”

“If it weren’t for Cuckoo hogging the crow’s nest all damn day I’d be the mother hen,” the low rumbling voice issued. 

“You lay eggs then?” Applejack asked, standing up to refill her mug one last time.

“No, but he’s got two great bi—”

“Powder Keg!”

She grinned, looking away from the mess down the rest of the deck, and Applejack wasn’t sure whether to laugh or blush. She chose to change the subject quickly instead.

“You.” She pointed with her mug at the deer, who was currently trying to untangle an antler from a lantern, and singing his hoof in the process.

“Oh, uh, hello!” he said, head tilted painfully.

“What’s your game?”

He frowned. “Deer, though many of my kind find being called game offensive—”

“Your quirk, you idjit!” Half Pint groaned. 

“Q-quirk?”

Loose Cannon held a hoof up to Half Pint, taking over. “What makes Flintlock strange and memorably unique? His special talent, or personality trait? How about it, everyone now, on three.”

He counted down, and on three, the whole crew let out a loud roar, shouting “Clumsy!” before laughing and clanking their tankards together. Flintlock just sighed, half-heartedly tugging at the lantern. After the laughter died down, Scurvy Dog magicked the lantern away, flipping it around and pulling the loop of chain off the bone.

“Listen, these ships aren’t made for deer,” Flintlock explained. “They’re so small, and these antlers just get caught on things. And they’re a little top heavy, so when the ship really rolls, I lose my balance a little easy.”

“Alright, I’ll bite.” Applejack said.

“What?”

“You’re always getting tripped up, maybe getting in other’s way. It’s especially bad when the ship needs you the most. What’re you good at that they keep you for?”

His eyes lit up. 

“You wanna fight?” he asked, bouncing in excitement.

“Whoah, nelly, hold up,” she said, holding her hooves up. “I’m sorry if that crossed a line.”

“Oh! No, sorry, I’m not—” he broke off, laughing. “I’m the best fighter aboard the Infiltrator. I mean, Marrow could probably knock out any creature he wanted with a quick punch, but asides from that there’s no other fighter like a deer.”

“What makes deer so good at fighting?”

“These, for one,” he said, tapping his antlers. “It’s like a built in helmet that’s also a pike. Very useful. I’ve got these smaller, sharper hooves, and nimbler legs. And I’m clumsy.”

“How’s that help in a fight?”

“You lunge left and try to jab at my side while I dodge right, except I fall over and accidentally trip you.”

“Then he stands up and accidentally walks over you, trampling you,” Scurvy Dog said.

“And then when you get up he falls again, twisting your leg in his antlers,” Mangy Dog said.

“Then when he tries to untangle them, he usually ends up bringing your downstairs upstairs,” Powder Keg said.

“We call it ‘getting racked’,” Half Pint said. “And that’ll take down anycreature, especially somepony like Bilge Rat.”

The earth pony cringed, apparently reliving some awful memory. Applejack noticed he looked ill.

“Anyways,” Flintlock mumbled, rubbing his shoulders. “Yeah. I’m good in a fight. That’s why they put up with me.”

“And, uh,” Applejack paused, looking around the room and counting. “That leaves… Keelhaul and Marrow.”

“Wellll, Marrow’s a Diamond Dog,” Loose Cannon said. “That’s about the extent of it, really. And it’s Captain Keelhaul,” he added.

Applejack scoffed. “He ain’t my captain.” She looked up after a following silence descended on her, the weight of the sudden quiet feeling threatening. The whole crew was staring at her.

“Uh, kidnapped, remember?” 

“Oh, right,” Half Pint said, and the rest of the crew nodded in agreement, turning back to their plates.

“You’ve been getting along so well I’d half forgotten about it,” Loose Cannon said. 

“Well, I didn’t. Appreciate the cider and the meal, though,” she said. “I’ve been held prisoner a couple times in my life and this is by far the easiest time I’ve had of it.”

“I don’t think Captain Keelhaul really means for you to keep that prisoner label, really,” he mused. “He did what he needed to do to get the map onto the ship. You ‘being’ the map threw a barnacle in the rudder chain, it did. But once we get this salsa or whatever you called it, you’ll be free to go wherever you want. I mean, I’m pretty sure he wants you to go tell your commanding officer or whoever where the artifact is and how much it’ll cost them, but really, it’s up to you.” He shrugged. “We would have just sent a letter if we didn’t have you.”

“What, so I could just pop onto some passing ship and wave goodbye? You know where the place is now, anyways.”

Loose Cannon leaned down, resting his chin on his knees. “Yeah, there is that,” he said, looking at Applejack out of the corner of his eye. “But I also get the feeling you’re pretty set on making sure nothing happens to this whatchamacallit. So would you even leave if you could?”

She leaned back, took a long swig of the cider, and drained the mug before rubbing her mouth, thinking.

“Nah,” she admitted. “Nah, I wouldn’t. You’re right.”

“So why not help the crew out, get to sleep on a hammock, and get home all that much faster? Believe you me, most of us would love an extra set of hooves around the topdeck. We’re running a skeleton crew as it is.”

Applejack set the mug down on her plate and pushed it towards the center of the table. “I’ll think about it,” she said.

Two loud, dull thumps echoed about the ship, and Applejack watched as the entire crew froze and looked up.

“LAAAAAAND HO!”
> Chapter 20
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Applejack blinked sleep from her eyes, thankful she wasn’t staring into the morning sun. A couple weeks with no cider combined with the amount she had imbibed the night before had brought on a minor headache, and crawling out of her cell when Bilge Rat woke her at first light hadn’t helped. She chewed absentmindedly, examining Source Island from afar.

The meal had ended abruptly last night with Keelhaul’s shout. The crew scattered like rats at his call, racing above deck to change the sails and drop the anchor. Applejack had snuck up after them, watching silently in the freezing night while they coordinated their tasks of hauling on lines and moving gear about.

There, off the bow, lay Source Island. She felt a deep sense of deja vu rifle through her, which she felt was ridiculous given she knew exactly where she had seen it before. All the same, it was the first time her eyes had landed on the island in the waking world, and the physical hereness of it all unnerved her. After a week at sea, and some major changes, she was finally in view of the thing that had started her adventure.

A solemn sense of determination overwhelmed her. She twitched her chin in a nod, muttered “right”, and headed down to her pile of hay at the bottom of the ship, ready to sleep to meet the next day that much sooner.

 She had awoken the next morning feeling strange—asides from the hangover—and was surprised to find her cheeks damp with tears. She felt like she had dreamt, but remembered nothing; nothing save for a lingering sensation of comfort mixed with regret that she could not quite pin down. With a shrug, she shook off the vestiges of sleep and flipped her hat on suavely while sliding her saddlebag around her back. Resolute, she inspected the straps and latches quickly, and then walked out the jail door—which she noticed had been left open overnight—and trotted up through the decks. 

Bilge Rat had gone up on deck, and the rest of the crew were not on any of the lower decks; though in the mess there were signs of them via the stack of plates with bits of carrot still peppering the table around them. One plate had been left out and she had grabbed the hooffull of vegetables before sliding up on deck, which was where she was standing now, finishing her breakfast while the Dog twins prepared two dinghies. 

“I’ll have the ponies with me,” Captain Keelhaul was saying to the crew as they flittered around him, tending to last minute items like checking the knots and lines. “Flintlock, Marrow, Powder Keg, watch the ship. If anything happens or ye see another sail on the horizon, send off a flare. Half Pint’ll watch the ship from the beach and yell if he sees anything.”

Applejack looked around, not seeing the Diamond Dog anywhere up on deck. She opened her mouth to speak before Loose Cannon walked up from behind her.

“Captain likes to make believe that Marrow listens to him, he does. Don’t call attention to it.”

“You all really do have these strange bugs up your butts,” she said.

“Oh, come now, there’s no need to be rude, saying such things about the captain,” he admonished, walking away. 

Applejack blanched. “No, that wasn’t… I didn’t—”

Loose Cannon winked back at Applejack and then stood next to the dinghy as Mangy Dog slowly let the line holding it up run through her magic, watching it drop to the sea.

“Coming, dearie? First class accommodations.” He clambered over the rail and started walking down the ladder that had been built into the side of the ship. “Last one in gets to row!”

Applejack chuckled and then followed him, hopping over the railing and finding her footing on the rungs. She looked down, feeling a little dizzy as the smaller boat lifted and rolled at a different rate from the larger ship, and looked back up while climbing down. When her hoof bumped into something more solid, she turned and leapt from the ladder, rocking the boat.

“Hey now,” Loose Cannon said, spreading his forelegs out to calm the swaying, “Don’t be fancy.”

Keelhaul fluttered down next, settling in at the bow. He grunted, and then hauled out two oars from under the seat, tossing one to Applejack and one to Loose Cannon.

“I thought you said the last one in had to row,” she mumbled around the oar, holding it in her teeth and dipping it into the water. 

Loose Cannon just laughed quietly, levitating his oar and pushing the boat away from the ship with it. “Last one in who isn’t the captain, of course.”

“Of course.”

They started heading towards the Island, joined shortly after by the second dinghy manned by Half Pint, Bilge Rat, and the Dog twins. Above them, Cuckoo circled the ships lazily, making strange high-pitched squawks and mewls. An orangey-yellow feather drifted down, landing on Applejack’s nose, and she shook it off.

“I didn’t even know ponies could make those sounds,” she said, staring up at him.

“For all we know, lass, he’s a seagull on every level except physical,” Keelhaul said, lightly flapping his wings to add speed to the boat. “I haven’t the slightest clue how he ended up that way, either. He was like that when we found him.”

“How did you find him?”

“We had waylaid a fisher vessel, and made off with several barrels of fish for our troubles. One of them had gotten broken open in the scuffle, and the scent musta attracted him. Found him nose deep in it when we were south of Dove Island.”

“He just showed up in the middle of the night?”

“Bilge Rat made the mistake of tossing a fish at him and he never left,” Keelhaul sighed. “But he does well as a watch, regardless of how he’s more animal than not. Makes a tartarusuva racket if he sees another sail in the distance.”

From high above, a loud, squeaky “Eraaaaah, ah ah ah,” echoed, and Applejack watched as Cuckoo curved his wings in sharply and dove fast, rocketing towards the sea. The stallion collided with the water and sent out a huge splash, soaking everyone in the boat with Applejack. By the time she wiped the salt water from her eyes, he was paddling in place, a huge sea bass flopping in his teeth. A quick toss of his head and some snapping of his jaws later, the fish was gone.

“That’s the worst thing I've ever seen,” Applejack said to nopony in particular, unable to turn her head away. “How does he not get sick doing that?”

“Ponies can eat fish,” Keelhaul said.

“What.”

“They can,” Loose Cannon said. “Some of the western settlements just outside of Yakyakistanian territory subsist on fish to help them put some insulation on for the harsh northern winters. It’s why they keep trying, despite the raids. The North Luna sea is controlled mainly by the Yaks, who don’t fish at all. The sea there is brimming with fish.”

“Aye, lass,” Keelhaul said. “I once sailed with another pirate up there when I was first gettin’ me legs. Ye could toss a net over the side of the ship and haul it up with the entire day’s catch in it.”

“There’s apparently a good market for that at Seaward Sholes,” Applejack said. “How come you didn’t just sell what you caught up north there, instead of shaking down sailors?”

“Hah! Like Equestria would ever allow a changeling to step hoof on its lands!”

“They do now.”

It was Keelhaul’s turn to blanche.

“What.”

“Oh, yeah, a couple years ago we learned that changelings can share love with one another. It’s like an infinite energy source or somethin’, I don’t really get how it works.”

“How’n the nine levels of Hades did ye get the Queen to cooperate with that?”

“They didn’t. She’s been deposed.”

“She’s WHAT?!”

Applejack shrunk back from Keelhaul, who had fully spun around in his seat to face her, eyes madly wide and wings flared menacingly.

“Uh. You didn’t know?”

He relaxed a bit, sighing deeply. “I’ve been… away from the hive for a long time, lass.” He scratched the chitin on his belly, thinking. “I’m glad to hear the ol’ eggsack’s gone. Good riddance to ‘er. I jus’ didn’t know it were even possible…”

He looked off into the distance, frowning.

“How long ago did ye say?”

“A couple years ago.”

His head drooped, and Loose Cannon reached out to pat a knee.

“Would you even go back, knowing you could now?”

“Nah,” he admitted, giving his head a shake and bringing himself back up tall again. “Nah, I wouldn’t! It’s been a far better life out here than stuck in that musty rock!”

“Hear hear!”

Keelhaul sat back down again, staring at Source Island as they approached it. It was raised high out of the water, the whole island seemingly surrounded with cliff face, though on the end they were headed towards there was a small sandy beach with enough of a crumbled edge of the island one could clamber up it with relative ease. The closer they got, the less visible the temple would become, obscured by the high stone walls.

“Woulda been nice to know, though,” he muttered, before spitting into the water.

While still several dozen metres away from the beach, the boat stopped dead, lurching the three of them out of their seats. Keelhaul jabbed his pegleg into the water, squinted at the distance between the island and himself, and smiled.

“Ahh, lovely. She’s shallow all the way,” he said, leaping into the wet sand. Applejack and Loose Cannon followed his lead, dragging the boat up with them as Keelhaul marched his way up to the coast. Once there, he halted, plunged his pegleg into the sand, and spun around on it to observe the crew as they arrived.

“Right, lass!” he called, once the rest of them were standing in front of him. “What’s yer map or prophecy or what have ye say about this temple? Any deadly traps or ancient puzzles? Do we need to make a sacrifice to some forgotten god? Where’s Cuckoo? He’ll do.”

Applejack looked to her right to see Cuckoo rearing, wings extended and bent ominously towards Keelhaul. A low series of long whines issued from his mouth, and she shook her head while laughing.

“Dontcha worry your beak one bit, Cuckoo. There wasn’t anything said ‘bout no sacrifices. There wasn’t anything said about it at all, to tell the truth, Keelhaul. Just that we’d find safe passage to the Source, and that was it.”

“There were a lot of dreams with different lines, lass. Did ye get them all? Miss a stanza maybe?”

She shook her head. “Nuh-uh. Not a chance. We’ve got them all.”

“How can you be so sure?” Loose Cannon asked, starting to pick his way up the tumbled boulders that made some manner of a stairway to the top of the island.

She thought about it, and then shook her head again. 

“None’a your business. You wanna start earning my trust, you’re gonna have to trust me a bit too. Just know that I ain’t lying when I say our source is unquestionable,” she said, dragging the un out.

“Whatever ye say, lass,” Keelhaul sighed, kicking off the sand and buzzing into the air. He tasted the air with his tongue, relishing the mixed scent of salt and sand, and then zipped up above.

The rest of them crawled their way up the short cliffs in due time, and as Applejack laid eyes on the temple up close now, she marvelled at it.

It was massive, for one thing. Great pillars hewn of stone held up an even larger roof, dwarfing the height of the gazebo back in Ponyville. Keelhaul was pacing around on the foundation, and the sight of the huge changeling looking so small next to the construction made Applejack a little dizzy.

It looked brand new, too. The stone was limestone and marble, a brilliant white that glinted in the still-rising sunlight. It took on the hue of the sky, ranging from tints of red and orange as saturated as her cutie mark all the way to a faint blue that reminded her of Rainbow Dash’s coat, and as the sun continued to lift in the sky the colours shifted. It was a miniscule amount of movement, but the building was so big she could still watch as the light wavered on top of it just as the sky shimmered and warbled.

There wasn’t a single chip or crack that could be found, either. In fact, the only evidence that time had passed at all upon the island was the smallest hint of weeds and vines that were starting to dig their thorns and roots around the base of the pillars. Inspecting one as she approached the front of the temple, she noticed that it was only a couple week’s worth of growth that had occured—the same amount of time the island had been out of whatever eldritch prison had held it. She scuffed at the dirt, and then stepped back in concern.

Being a farmer had taught her an awful lot about different fields. Sure, her specialty was apples, but to grow good apples meant knowing so much more. She needed to know about the weather and what amounts of different kinds of precipitation were best for growing conditions. She needed to know about insects and pests and the best way to ward them off without tainting her own crops. And she needed to know about soil, its composition, the different types of it and how they all affected different plants.

Of course, she wasn’t an expert, so when Bilge Rat poked her flank sharply and asked her what was so upsetting to her about the scratch she had made in the dirt, she couldn’t tell him. 

“The soil is wrong.”

He looked down and then back up at Applejack.

“Looks like soil to me.”

“Well, it is soil. But it’s wrong. It shouldn’t look like… well, that. It’s missing something.”

Again he inspected the patch before side-eyeing Applejack.

“...Grass?”

“No, not… I dunno what. But it ain’t right. I haven’t seen any soil like this before. I don’t like it.”

Bilge Rat ducked his head down under Applejack’s barrel, hefting her up onto his withers in one fluid motion. She slid down his mane and settled onto his back, frozen in surprise.

“What’n the hay are you doing?”

“Y’said you didn’t like the dirt. Now you ain’t on it.”

She looked forward at no one, unimpressed, until Bilge Rat stepped onto the marble foundation and tilted, unceremoniously dumping her onto the stone. She picked herself up, dusted herself off, and stuck her tongue out at Bilge Rat before cantering up to what appeared to be the entrance where the rest of them were standing, sans Keelhaul.

The doors reached almost all the way to the roof, and like the rest of the temple they were gigantic and carved out of the same stone as the pillars. Intricate carvings of swirls and circles ran in lines across them, surmounted by a line of lettering that was duplicated on each door. Applejack tilted her hat back and rubbed her brow as she looked at them. The words weren’t in Ponish—heck, she realized, they weren’t even in the same alphabet. Twilight might have been able to identify them, but she didn’t have a Twilight with her. She looked them over again, trying to see if there was anything to be gleaned from a dead language she didn’t understand.


Αυτό το μέρος δεν είναι τιμή
Αυτό που είναι εδώ ήταν επικίνδυνο
και αποκρουστικό σε εμάς.


“How old is this thing,” Half Pint muttered, craning his neck high to try and read. “Thems look like somepony took Ponish and played dice with it.”

“Twilight said it was older than the oldest folk we knew of.”

“Twilight?”

“Twilight S—” Applejack stopped, biting her tongue, earning strange looks from the crew. “Twilight’s not important to y’all,” she decided on. “What’s important is gettin’ inside. Er, uh, how do we do that?”

She reared up and pressed against one of the doors, leaning hard into it. The massive slab of stone moved about as well as any could have expected it to, which is to say it didn’t. What did happen was, as she closed her eyes and arched her back into the pressure, the slow reflection of sunlight upon the marble changed abruptly. A ripple raced in towards her hoof, coming in with a bassy electric hum that rapidly increased in volume. Applejack’s eyes opened just in time to see the ripple of light converge in front of her.

It sounded like time ripping open. There wasn’t any pain, but a second later Applejack was rolling and skidding along the flat terrain towards the cliff. Right as she felt the discomforting soil vanish from beneath her, a set of hooves wrapped around her chest, hauling her to a stop before lifting her slowly back towards the temple.

The soft orange legs around her let her go a foot above the ground, and she stumbled for a moment while catching her bearing and balance. Cuckoo landed in front of her, squawking curiously, his eyes confused or sad.

“Right!” Keelhaul said, hobbling around from the backside of the temple. “This must be the entrance, cause I ain’t see nothin’ else. Onwards, crew! To glory!” He opened his eyes to find them all staring at him, save for Applejack, who was too busy trying to hold on to the earth and keep it steady. “Er, what’d I miss?”

Cuckoo turned around and made a series of mad flaps with his wings, crying and screeching and kicking. Keelhaul nodded intently, muttering “Mmhmm? Oh? Ah. Really? I see,” and when Cuckoo finally finished his tirade, the captain nodded solemnly before turning and calling Half Pint.

“Aye Captain?”

“What did he say?”

“She tried to push the door open and the whole thing spit her out. Cuckoo caught her right as she went off the cliff.”

Keelhaul looked at the door to the temple, and then slowly twisted his vision all the way back to the beach, some fifty meters away.

“Queen’s concubines, lass, are ye alright?”

“I’m, uh, fine? It didn’t hurt, save for the slip’n’slide. Oh, um, thanks Cuckoo.”

“Rawwwwwk,” Cuckoo replied, nodding.

“Welp, I still ain’t seen another way in. Bilge Rat, why don’t ye try the door next?”

The stallion frowned. “It seemed pretty clearly to b’ saying ‘hooves off”, Captain.”

Keelhaul stared at him.

“It ain’t an order if you ask it as a question, Captain.”

“Right, right. Bilge Rat! Try the door next!”

“Uh, Captain?” Loose Cannon said cheerfully, tapping the changeling on the pegleg.

“Aye?”

“Mind explaining your logic to the crew? For morale, o’course. Inspire us.”

“For what need?”

“For explaining why you want them to touch something that don’t want to be touched,” Applejack said, finally regaining her breath.

“Ah, right. Well, ways I see it is, there still ain’t no other potential way in. Whole place is locked up tight, no windows, no gaps, no airways, nothin’, save for the door. With luck, our dear esteemed guest just used up all the magical wards for us.”

“And without luck?”

“Well, the other option is I get to see how far this thing’ll fling Bilge Rat, which frankly seems so entertaining t’me that I don’t really consider it unlucky.”

Bilge Rat rolled his eyes up before walking backwards up to the door. He glanced behind himself quickly before lowering his head, shaking his flanks, and bucking. When the enormous hooves connected, that same synthetic screeching sounded off, along with the low frequency hum. With the more sudden style of contact, the entire temple didn’t ripple, but the flash of light that did shoot towards his hindlegs blew him forward, causing him to somersault plot over teakettle and land on his hindquarters hard. 

The look of frustration on his face was lessened somewhat by the uproarious laughter that Half Pint had collapsed into, rolling on the dry dusty stone while pounding his hooves. His mirth probably would have continued long after everypony else still found it funny, but he was stopped when he rolled back over and collided with a hoof that very much had not been there a second ago. 

“φύγε από αυτό το μέρος.”

There was a coordinated scream as all of them, hardened pirates, pescetarian pegasus, and adventurous farmer alike, scrambled backwards from the new creature that had appeared before the door. It was shorter than a horse, not quite as thick as a pony, and had a far longer neck than either of them. It was also very much, absolutely dead.

Applejack had fallen onto her rump, tripping over herself as she fled from the apparition. It made no move to chase her, though she couldn’t even fathom how it would have been able to make pursuit. For the most part, a set of waterlogged and seaweed covered bones formed a full skeleton that was adorned with strips of engorged and rotting flesh. Where there should have been eyes were two pale blue issues of light, and they stared down at Applejack from the ghost’s post before the door. 

“W-who, and what, are you?!” she managed to croak, after running into a pillar and finding the thing still had not yet gone after her.

The light in the eyes dimmed for a moment before coming back to full life.

“Ahhh,” a hollow and raspy voice came forth, sounding dirty and scratched like it had finished a long trip to come forth from the floating jaw bones. “What a strange… and inefficient language. But it shall do.”

“Stay back beast! I’ll be yer unmaking if ye harm any of me crew!” Keelhaul was standing tall, having stepped forward in front of Applejack with horn blazing green, the magic crackling as he charged a bolt.

The skeleton slowly shook its head at Keelhaul. “Your threats are meaningless. I have already been killed. My purpose here is my punishment, and I shall serve it until none remain upon this planet who may utilize the Origin.”

“Y-your purpose?”

It nodded. “I cannot physically harm any of you. You have no need to fear me, save for perhaps my visage. For my avarice I have been cursed to warn all who may attempt to retrieve the Origin of its dangers. My name was once Plesippus. Though it brings me no comfort now, you are welcome to refer to me as such.”

Applejack came to her hooves and walked slowly towards Plesippus, cringing while the skull swung to face her but carrying on regardless. Once close, she reached out and jabbed at a leg. Her hoof connected with solid bone and bounced off, but he did not react and, after swallowing hard and thinking a quick prayer, she sat down before him.

“I’ve been directed with higher purpose to get that Source, feller,” she said, meeting eyes with it. “I can’t be leaving ‘till I have my hooves on it. So you might as well just step aside and open the door.”

“No purpose is selfless enough for the Origin. It is the same lie I told myself that led to my destruction. All of you!” he shouted now, the voice echoing across the island, “All of you must turn back, leave, be gone! There is nothing here for you.”

“Aw, well, y’see, whenever somecreature says somethin’ isn’t mine to be had, it instills in me an awful urge to be havin’ it even more,” Keelhaul said, sitting down next to Applejack. “So I think ye best listen to the filly and open the door for us.”

Plesippus waved a hoof, and in a blink the world was gone. The crew stumbled before realizing it was visual magic, the kind Applejack remembered Luna using to show her the sky.

“I will not. You may have a warning only, a description of the awful things that the Source would wreak. The only help I shall bring you is saving you from fates such as mine, and saving the universe from fates such as you. It all begins aeons ago, before the frozen hemisphere thawed and the lowlands flooded, before any of your races or your ancestor’s races existed…”
> Chapter 21
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The lone proto-equine wandered slowly up the mountain, following a winding trail that spiralled lazily up to the summit. A gust of dry warm wind battered the creature, and he paused to tuck in his heavy cloak before making his way forward. Each hoofstep left a small indent in the red dust on the trail, sinking in a centimetre and kicking back as he trudged forward. Other sets of tracks had been made, but were being filled in quickly by the strong wind.

He rounded a final corner and came to find himself standing upon a huge plateau, perfectly flat and devoid of any rubble nor life, save for eight other equines milling about near the end of the trail. Curious, he scuffed at the dirt before lifting his head slowly, drawing a line all the way to the other end of the plateau.

“Ah, Plesippus. Well met, friend,” one of the creatures said. His hood was down, revealing a large head with a long neck. His coat was like dirt, his mane just a tad darker shade of brown. “We were beginning to wonder if perhaps you had missed the summons.”

“Hail, Akakios,” Plesippus replied, still staring dumbfounded at the clearing. “What happened here? A disaster? This peak was yet another hundred fathoms high.”

“Not a disaster, but preparation. Earthwork for a new construction, one which we require your assistance for.”

“Hail, Plesippus,” another equine nodded, approaching the two. She dropped her hood, revealing herself to be just as brown as the other, if slightly mottled with lighter tones. “It has been an age. I am pleased to see you are well.”

“Eumelia.” Plesippus curtsied, crossing a hoof in front of the other before raising and speaking to Akakios again. “Preparation? You did this?” He spread a hoof wide across the clearing in disbelief. “What hell have your studies unleashed, to cleave rock like this so simply?”

“Not so much I as us, and even moreso it was only our guidance as contribution. Come with me to the circle, and I shall explain more.”

Plesippus followed the two back to the others, who had started to lay down flat in a half circle. Akakios continued forward to stand in the middle where they all faced, and when Plesippus had situated himself towards him as well, began to speak.

“All ready? Then I shall begin. Some of you already know what I am about to say. Eumelia and Isocrates are aware, having helped me consecrate this land, for which I am grateful.”

The two nodded in recognition, and he continued.

“You have been long away, Plesippus, and are likely not aware of the rumors. The last five cycles there has been a calling amongst those magically inclined, this pestering urge that has harangued us ceaselessly. Hesperos’s vision suggested that it was the Origin of Magic, the fountain that provides us with our energy, and together with Euthalia and Eumelia he was able to deduce a way to hone in on it.

“A long journey east proved fruitful, and when Eumelia, Isocrates, and myself arrived, we indeed found the Origin. With its power, I was able to transport the three of us back to our temple near the gorge in an instant. A simple teleportation from one side of my village to the other would be debilitating normally, but with the Origin…”

He let the idea sink in, meeting everycreature’s eyes before moving on.

“A dilemma immediately presented itself. Kosmas was the first to present it, and we have his wisdom to thank such that we are working proactively instead of reactively. The fact is undeniable. The Origin is power unendless. Improperly controlled by one too weak, or handled too crudely, and I suspect it would tear said user from all existence entirely, forwards and backwards through time. Not only would they cease to be, they would cease to have been.

“Even more concerning however are those who understand enough of magic to utilize it. Those who could filter and refine their touch, siphoning just enough of the infinite to achieve any goal they may have. We cannot let this fall into untoward hooves, and it bears clarifying that even the most selfless of goals is not innately destructive or devastating.”

“Shall we destroy it, then? Its purpose is served, wise one,” Hesperos spoke up. “My studies have shown that magic only needs an Origin to be seeded on a planet. Once this has been done, it is self-fuelling.” He looked up at the sky with eyes closed, humming a strange series of noises through his throat. “The stars tell us that their Origins have all long left, off to other galaxies to create their own planets.”

“Why does our Origin remain, then?” a mare next to Hesperos asked. “Perhaps it still has a purpose upon our home?”

Hesperos grimaced. “The stars do not say.”

“I do not believe it can be destroyed. Not without cleansing our planet of life, anyways,” Akakios said grimly. “We could perhaps organize to send it away, but…”

“But what, wise one?”

“I find Sophus’s observation compelling, intriguing. Why has the Origin remained? Our interference with it is a necessity, it must be, but we must interfere with it in such a way as we are fated to.”

“So we are to keep the Origin for personal use?”

“Star’s light, Plesippus, no! No. But we are to safeguard it for the good of the planet.” He scratched his nose, a blunt and pointed thing. “I have assembled you all here as each of you have proven yourselves wise and true to self. We shall assemble a Council of the Origin, to meet here whenever such situations may present themselves. Only if all nine of us agree to a proposed purpose do we invoke the Origin’s power. This is, of course, only if all nine of us do agree to such a thing in the first place. Our mission must begin in unison, so we may maintain it in perpetuity.”

“And if we cannot reach an accord?”

“Then I follow Hesperos’s guidance and exile the Origin from any creature’s hooves for all eternity.”

Silence fell, and each of the sages took on a pose of thinking. 

Time passed. Winds blew. The sun rose high, and when their shadows had all but vanished, Akakios stood up tall and cleared his throat, having all eyes on him in an instant.

“Deliberations have finished. I shall now take count. Philokates?”

“For Council.”

“Eumelia?”

“For Council.”

“Sophus?”

“For Council.”

“Hesperos?”

A pause. Every head turned at once to face the creature, their expressions practiced and neutral, but still a pressure could be felt in the air between them.

“...For Council.”

The eyes returned to Akakios.

“Isocrates?”

“For Council.”

“Plesippus?”

“For Council.” It came with no hesitation, the words almost overrunning Akakios’s. The elder squinted at him before continuing on.

“Euthalia?”

“For Council.”

“Kosmas?”

“For Council.”

“Let it be known that the Sages of Equus have decreed a Council of Origin be formed. Wear not this distinction with pride, my friends. There is no honour to be had here, only great duty and horrifying purpose. Ours shall be the job to respond to moments of crisis and strife, and it is by our acts alone that we may change the course of fate. Now, having established our order, it is only fitting that we construct our hall.”

“My strength is in philosophy, wise one,” Isocrates laughed. “I’ll not be much use in masonry.”

“Despair not, friend, and watch. Here is but an infinitesimal sample of the burden we shield from the world.”

Akakios turned around and reached into his cloak, retrieving an object that shone with colours they had never seen before. It wavered and shined, the edges of it blurred and warped such that it seemed out of focus even right before them. Each movement of it seemed to change its basic shape. It was round, yet sharp; bright, yet dark; twisted, yet flat. It was everything and nothing.

As the Order beheld this strange and fascinating talisman in Akakios’s hooves, he raised it up, eyes closed, and uttered a single word.

“Create.”

It felt as if the mountain should have shook. The eight proteges of Akakios leapt to their hooves in fright as brilliant white marble rose out of the red rock before them like a shark spyhopping out of water. It continued to rise smoothly, silently, clipping through reality seamlessly as if physics had fallen asleep. Even when it stopped and settled, sinking into the stone as all the weight behind the herculean pillars and walls manifested into reality, not a single wave of sound issued from the event.

And so it was that when the front of the temple split with all the volume of a mountain cracking in two, none of them were prepared for it. Eight sages, wisecreatures of old and stoic symbols of unwavering knowledge and power, cowered and collapsed at the crash, leaving only Akakios to stand and chuckle softly to himself.

“Come now,” he said, when all the others had regained their footing. “There are more tasks left before we may rest.” He trotted forward, driving relentlessly forward as the front of the temple started to spread open from the split; limestone grinding on marble as the massive doors willed themselves into existence.

Inside, the temple seemed even larger. The ceiling was so high as to be almost unviewable, reaching farther up than the heavens. Already wisps of clouds were starting to form, rotating lazily in the eldritch sky. There were no windows, no skylights nor lanterns, yet all the same it was as bright as a summer day, and a few of the sages shielded their eyes from the searingly white marble.

In the center of the temple, laid upon an intricate mosaic depicting a map of the entire planet, was a triangular table. It was plain, made of solid redwood or some similar looking lumber, and equilateral. A small bench sat between each side, and the tip of the triangle pointed deeper in towards the back of the temple where a solid, rectangular slab of black augite sat.

“Have a seat,” Akakios instructed, moving past the table and up to the altar. It dwarfed him in size, being just as tall as him and three times as long, and upon reaching it he pressed the Origin against the rock, where it sank in just as seamlessly as the temple had issued forth from the earth.

Joining his fellows at the table, he flipped a single hoof and magicked into existence a scroll of parchment along with quills and inkwells for each of the sages, setting them down before them.

“By nature, each member of this order cannot remain in one location. Regardless of how wise or all-knowing the plebians in the valleys consider us to be, we only acquire and maintain our knowledge by our travels and studies. I do not expect us to remain with the Origin at all times, only to convene if given sufficient reason to debate its use. Furthermore, as much as I believe in the steadiness of each of your souls, I think it would be prudent we ensure that the only way we may access the Origin is if all nine of us are here to begin with.”

Plesippus frowned only briefly before returning to his neutral expression. “I agree with the proposal, but what if one of us is lost?”

“I fear that may be the reason we need such precaution in the first place.”

“How do you mean?”

“We deal with dangerous beings from time to time. None of the protective magic nor list checking and double checking in the world can do anything to a well placed dagger in the back, and some of you do battle with spirits and demons from time to time as well. I need only mention Polybius’s name to remind you all how quickly a possession may occur.”

A sad murmur echoed in the infinite room.

“If one of us is lost, either physically or spiritually, then it is all the better no creature ever have access to this temple again, not if we lack the full wisdom of the council to consider its purpose.”

“Quite right,” Hesperos cheered, pounding the table. “A reasonable compromise, dear Akakios. I’m not sure why you didn’t mention the idea before taking count.”

“I would rather you all make the decision with the weight of the worse scenario heavy on your minds than falsely reassured on high hopes and wishes.”

Hesperos smirked. “And such is why we call you wise one.”

“Each of you have travelled far, seen much, and been to places no sentient creature has any hope to see in our lifetimes. Surely you must be aware of a personal location known only to you and you alone, one that is difficult to reach, senseless to explore, and suicidal to reside in. Fix these locations in your mind firmly. 

“It is my plan that we all design temples of our own to house a personal key within. These should not be as simple as this one, however. Make them convoluted and confusing, or deadly even, filled with puzzles or traps or spells that only you would know how to avoid or counter. None who do not share your mind should be able to access the inner chamber where your key will be stored.”

“What is the purpose of this display?”

“For us, Euthalia, it will be trivial to retrieve our keys when summoned. In between such times, however, the keys will be unreachable by any other. Keeping them upon yourselves will likely make us all targets for fiends and hellions alike. A chest warded with spells may still be broken open, with persistence.”

“But a lost and hidden tomb made unnavigable to all except the designer…”

“Precisely. Please use your parchment as you see fit when considering the designs. Do not worry about your artistic skills, Kosmas,” Akakios said, cutting the equine off, “simply focus and refine your idea while you note or sketch. It does not matter what you put on the scroll, only that your blueprints and chosen locations are kept in mind while you etch upon the parchment. When done, I shall submit them all to the altar, and have the Origin make them true.”

While they started to write, darkness swirled in and rushed about, replacing the equine creatures entirely with nothing. 
> Chapter 22
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The opaque fog billowed out from Plesippus and filled the entire temple, before fading away to show the same setting once again. The nine of them were still seated there, though in different positions and clothed in lighter cloaks.

“Well, on with it, Akakios. I’ve students waiting to learn phlebotomy back at my institute,” Sophus muttered, rolling her eyes.

Akakios simply stared at her, his aged eyes narrowing in apparent frustration. His mane had faded from that dark brown to something closer to dried clay, and the wrinkles about his face were more pronounced, more numerous. He cleared his throat, earning the silent attention of the Order.

“Are you so accustomed to such duties as to treat it so flippantly, Sophus? Have you no sense of reverence or compassion for your oath any longer?”

“Wise one, I—”

“I shall not hear it. We have all witnessed time and time again the ripe power of the Origin, and instead of fuelling fear for its misuse in all of you, you’ve all become complacent to it.” His words, while spoken through a slightly shaky voice, had echoed off the infinitely high ceiling as if he had been an opera singer.

“Regardless,” he continued, seating himself, “I appreciate you all making arrangements to answer the summons. We’ve been beseeched by an empress from the east. She states that an advisor of hers with wicked ambitions has usurped her via nefarious means.”

“Oh, this again?”

“Quiet, Hesperos. This was not a request written for petty vengeance. She states this advisor has been dealing with Tartaurs, casting forbidden spells and forsaken rituals to scheme together with them. Her empire’s entire standing army was wiped out in an instant with the snap of a cloven hoof.”

“A Tartaur had been summoned to the physical plane? But what creature could command such magic? Not one of us alone could survive such a feat.”

“Not via forceful summoning, no… but if this advisor has been worshipping the denizens of Tartaurus for years, they may have infected his mind, twisting and warping his brain to follow their own goals.”

“Is the empress here?”

Akakios shook his head. “She is currently hiding in exile within my personal study.”

Eumelia spoke up, curious. “How are we to verify her claim then?”

“And what is she requesting we do?” Isocrates asked.

“We can verify her with the Origin, as we’ve done before. She need not be here, it is the Origin, after all… And in regards to your question, Isocrates, she has requested we banish the Tartaur, revive her army, and restore her seat upon the throne.”

Philokrates stroked his beard, frowning. “I can’t see why that wouldn’t qualify. It is restorative in nature, a resetting of balance. Plus the need to keep a Tartaur off this existence would be worthy enough a reason to invoke the Origin, no?”

There was a murmur of agreement.

“How come you did not just verify her before issuing our summons, Akakios?” Plesippus snapped. “I was studying within my temple when your call reached me, and by your design it is near impossible to reach and return from!”

“You should not be spending such time there to begin with for that very reason,” Akakios muttered, his shoulders slumping lightly. “Again I must reiterate the importance of keeping our own distance from the Origin. And furthermore, that would have required me to use it without the rest of you present, which I shall not do!”

His shout echoed about the chamber, lashing back at the order again and again before the cavernous room finally consumed the sound.

“I apologize, wise one,” Plesippus said, not meeting Akakios’s eyes. “I shall endeavour to be more diligent in practicing the required reverence.”

“There will be no more endeavouring nor attempting nor working towards. Not from you, nor any of you! There shall only be obedience to the oath, or expulsion from the order!”

Stunned silence gripped the room, until finally Euthalia spoke.

“But that—”

“Means the undoing of your soul, as well, yes. It is not a fate I wish upon any of you, and when we forged the contract all understood there would be no renegotiations nor amendments. You must understand my position, members… friends. In both keeping the Origin from misuse and protecting your lives from corruption.”

“You’ve a greater burden than the rest of us combined, old friend,” Hesperos said, rapping the table in emphasis.

“Hear hear!”

“We do not wish to disappoint you, Akakios. We thank you for keeping our aim true,” Euthalia said cheerfully. “Now, let us move on to business, with renewed purpose in mind.”

“Rightfully so,” Akakios said, waving a staff over the triangular table. The altar at the back of the room pulsed once, and where once was wood was now a vision, true to form as if they were looking through glass. Upon it, a more horse-like creature, skinnier and taller than the members of the Order, sat upon a blackened throne. Cinders still rose from the charred seat, though the heat didn’t seem to bother the mare. 

“Tell me again how this helps you,” she said.

“Our purpose is beyond the understanding of any creatures from this plane. Rest assured that all I have promised you shall be true and without misinterpretation, so long as you honour your bargain first.” It was a horrible voice, like gravel being compacted into dust, that rasped and caught at odd times as if the speaker weren’t yet used to the mouth it was using.

“Were it to be so lovely I should believe you. Machinations of this style typically involve types who wish to profit off the backs of their co-conspirators. I’ve been after that damned throne for a hundred years, Karlek. I’m not some rabble tricked into summoning you because Father took my favorite toy away.”

Akakios swirled his staff silently, rotating the view away from the empress to view her surroundings better. The vision moved strangely, unfocussed as it panned past a destroyed castle with smoking stone and still-burning tapestries. When it finally centered on the opposite side of the room and crystalized into focus again, the equines of the order gasped in horror.

Standing within a hideous circle of blood and salt, lined with corpses stacked crisscrossed in a nine-pointed star, was a centaur. The upper, mandrill-shaped half was flayed, devoid of skin, and green-tinged blood slowly oozed onto the gore below, sizzling with each drop.

“A fact I can appreciate. Regardless, to understand how it impacts my kind it would invoke death from intangible comprehension. Just know that your rule will be unimpacted—when our plans come to play, you shall have long faded to dust.”

“Fair enough, I suppose. It’s the last chance I have to remove that damned Goldenheart, and so I shall attempt it anyways. I take a slight bit of comfort in knowing we’re so truly inconsequential to you that you have no reason to betray me. Very well. Remind me one last time.”

“You must seek out the Order of Origin, in the western valleys, just north of the endless ice. There, tell them you have been deposed, stripped as rightful ruler by Goldenheart, had your armies decimated, and been sent into exile.”

“And who is Goldenheart to be to them?”

“You’re clever. Think of something. Or do you need me to provide every facet to you?”

“Give me some credit. Even a poisonous ant can kill a stallion.”

“Once they have taken you in, request in as pitiful terms as you can that they unmake Goldenheart and restore your armies from death. The sheer number of corpses within this land is…” Karlek licked his lips, pulling some of the ichor away from the skinless mouth. “...Delectable. When you return, half your army can be sacrificed to complete my formation, and the other half will still be ten times the size of any other upon this continent. You and I shall both be unstoppable.”

“It shall be done, goat. I’ll depart immediately. Try not to burn any more of my throne away, shall you? I’ll be needing it the moment I get back.”

Once more Akakios waved his staff, returning the table to wood.

“Well, that’s easy enough then, isn’t it?” Philokrates laughed. “Allow me to form the motion. Order, I call upon you!”

“You are heard, Philokrates!” the reply came in unison.

“Given the revelations we have seen before us, I motion to invoke the Origin!”

They all started pounding the table, the hardwood knocks filling the air before Akakios held a hoof up, bringing silence again.

“Explain your process, Philokrates,” Akakios orated, “Enlighten us with your plan.”

“I motion we invoke the Origin on two counts. Count one: Disperse the hoofhold Karlak has upon this land and ban him from ever communicating with this plane forever more! Count two: send our ‘empress’ to Tartaurus, where she may be in joyous and perpetual relations with the Tartaurs for time unending, until her very soul be eroded away by their cruel torment.”

“Members of the Order, the motion has been heard. As is custom, mark your yea or nea upon your parchment, and we shall deliver the verdict to the Origin.”

They nodded solemnly and quickly scratched off a mark on the leather before them before folding and sealing it with a stomp. Once all had completed their task, Akakios stood tall, levitating the ballots together into a stack and bringing them before himself. He turned, walking slowly to the agate altar at the back of the temple while the other creatures watched, muted.

He pressed the stack against the altar and muttered something under his breath, and they slid inside the stone.

There was a moment where nothing happened.

And then there was a moment where everything happened. The altar rang once like a bell, a deafeningly loud boom that ripped through the temple. Multiplicitous light rippled out with a veracity that blew the manes back of all nine equines, seemingly pulling a bit more of the saturation from Akakios’s at the same time. 

“Right then, Akakios,” Sophus announced, dusting her cloak off casually. “Send us home, would you? Seeing as you brought us all the way here on hoof for almost nothing.”

Akakios lowered his head and sighed deeply, his voice even shakier now than before. Upon the end of his exhale, he lifted a hoof forward and punched the altar, and the eight of them around the table were gone.
> Chapter 23
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Their hooves rumbled upon the table, the cacophony coming in before a new wave of darkness had cleared. In view now was the same triangular table, though only seven of them were seated there. Eumelia was crying, her sobs unabated by Hesperos’s absentminded back rubbing. The stallion was staring away from her, glaring towards the door where Plesippus and Akakios were now.

Akakios was almost nothing more than bone now. His mane reached down to his knees, greasy and grey to match the brilliant white coat revealed by a discarded cloak. Despite his apparent frailty, he was stood over Plesippus, staff held firmly between his forhooves on the younger sage’s chest, pinning the equine to the marble.

“SPEAK!”

“I-I, it’s all a misunderstanding, really, you must believe me—!”

“To betray the trust of your colleague? Your elder? Your friends? A simple misunderstanding? You cast a forbidden spell, wantonly traversing through Eumelia’s mind at a moment of weakness! I should destroy you alone for this crime! You could have killed her, Plesippus! One wrong look, one forgotten ward! And her mind would be shattered and lost. I cannot express the incalculable levels of disgust I am filled with when I say we are all lucky she only feels sullied!”

“Please, Akakios! Mercy, please, I meant no harm! I only wished to assist, to do more—”

The elder slammed the staff down into Plesippus’s sternum, silencing him.

“I asked not for excuses, only explanations! Have you been possessed? Overcome by stupidity? By the stars, boy, what were you thinking?! Speak!”

A hush fell instantly, the usual echo cut short by magic or rage alone, and all eyes fell upon the whimpering Plesippus as he cringed beneath Akakios’s assault.

“I was tired, wise one, frustrated by the endless petty requests by kings and queens for us to aid them in their woes. Every year, a new summons disrupts work and study, only for us to learn it is some creature upon a throne wishing to rule through pure magical might instead of leadership and good rule and dismiss their case. I felt… If perhaps we unified them all, if we put an end to border squabbles… we would be done with it.”

Isocrates spit. “Do you have any idea of the chaos that would be unleashed if you simply undid all the governments of our world? Removed the identities of every sapient creature within them with a snap?”

“I was so frustrated, I just… We weren’t doing enough, we should have been doing more, but there’d never be a consensus! And so—” His voice cut off with a yelp as Akakios whipped his staff around, cracking the stallion on his lower jaw.

“And so you tricked a fellow member of the order into visiting you under the guise of companionship, drugged her, and waltzed into her brain to find the location of her temple and therefore her key.” He stepped off of the whimpering equine and walked towards the table, seating himself abruptly. He was shaking, not from frailty, but anger, disgust, disappointment… With fear. With a great sucking of breath he steadied himself and then met eyes with the other members, a single flow of tears running down his muzzle.

“Order, I call upon you.”

“You are heard, Akakios.”

“No!” Plesipuss cried, rolling over and reaching a hoof out towards them. “No, forgive me, elders! In weakness I made wrong but I can atone, I can- ugh!”

Akakios flipped a hoof and a blast of energy silenced Plesippus again.

“I motion to invoke the origin,” he said, through harrowed breath.

“Explain your reasoning and plan, Akakios,” Hesperos said, jaw set and eyes firm.

“We have been given a great revelation today by Plesippus. I may yet find him to be the wisest one of us all,” Akakios said, glaring at the trembling body near the door. 

“...No,” Plesippus whispered.

“Were it not for his actions, we would be unaware that we all are subject to the corruption of the Origin. The Order cannot be sustained, no matter the precautions.”

Eumelia sniffed once, bringing her head high. 

“I motion we invoke the origin on three counts. Count one: this temple and our personal safeholds shall be locked away for all eternity. Only when the earth itself has turned cold and dead may the Origin be free from its prison. Count two: our order be disbanded, and all recorded knowledge of its existence and purpose be ripped from existence, so none may know to search for our folly. Count three,” he said, turning to look at Plesippus.

“...Please, Akakios. I am sorry.”

“Member Plesippus be stripped of his status and expelled from the order.”

Wordlessly parchment was scribbled on, and almost immediately all eight ballots had been handed to Akakios. The elder clenched them together, taking no care to roll them and fold them up before storming towards the agate altar. Plesippus sobbed hard, pleading and begging he stop, crawling towards the table, when Akakios slammed the parchment into the stone, punching the altar and forcing the ballots in.

There was a pulse of light, and then a scream.

Plesippus writhed and shrieked in place while the eight members watched on solemnly. Eumelia was the only other noise, her cries issuing almost as loud as the issues of pain coming from the stallion on the floor. As they looked on, black smoke blasted forth from his eyes and nose, ejecting forcefully into the air while the body decayed and shrivelled like a timelapse of rotting meat. As Plesippus was ripped from existence, the vision faded and cracked, before finally collapsing in upon itself, leaving nothing.
> Chapter 24
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Applejack stumbled in place, panting and heaving where she stood. She stomped a hoof hard, grateful to see the bright grass and off-coloured soil beneath her once again. Her mind spun, assaulted by emotions that were not hers; betrayal, heartbreak, terror, agony, all of these coalesced and dripped through her being, running down to her withers like rain down a spout. Above all of them a crippling weight of disappointment pressed on her, a forlorn judgement that made her feel like such a failure that her mind artificially thought of suicide for the slightest of moments.

She reared and then kicked, jumping in place and whipping off the feelings, and when she settled again they were gone, leaving her only with a coat damp with sweat and a heart that would not seem to settle.

“I could not escape this agonizing pressure within me, to move closer to the Origin, to utilize it for the goals I felt were indisputable. As punishment, my body was ripped from existence. Unfortunately, Akakios did not imagine the spell correctly… or perhaps he did. Regardless, my soul has been fixed on this point, submerged for ten thousand years. 

“This temple was sucked into the earth, hidden from access or view. Long after Akakios and my friends passed on, the endless ice began to melt, flooding and destroying almost all of any history that might yet remain of our endeavor, and I suspect our wise one may have been pleased to know that leagues upon leagues of water yet separated the surface from this accursed place.”

“But now it’s back and this don’t look much likes a dead planet to me,” Keelhaul said, recovering faster than the rest of the crew from the experience. “Seems like a faulty omnipotent all-rock to me, it does. Have you tried returning it fer warranty?”

Plesippus locked empty eyes upon the changeling, who stared him back down with equal intensity. “I know not why the spell failed early. Perhaps Akakios felt ten eons would be long enough for all the world to forget. I do not think he accounted for the Origin’s will of its own, though he was blinded by pain when the motion was made. Regardless, this temple still remains sealed by nine locks, the keys scattered and unknown. The Origin’s own power is used against it, and the locks are as strong as they have always been.”

“So we just need to find the keys then, and we can walk in?”

“Are you insane, or just absent of brain matter entirely? Did you not see anything I have just shown you? Listened to an ounce of my warning? Of all that I have shown you, that is what you’ve taken away? That this is some sort of joyful little quest, a mid-summer outing for fun? Stars above, creature, you shall not access this temple!”

“Well that’s mighty fine and all, and I can appreciate where you’re comin’ from,” Applejack said, stepping between Keelhaul and the ghost. She wasn’t sure either could harm the other, but an idea had popped into her mind and she wanted to make sure the sage didn’t vanish or turn physically antagonizing. “But like I told ya when we got here, I’ve been directed by a higher power to go and obtain the Source. So where’s these islands at then?”

Plesippus spat at her, the ethereal glob sailing through her body with a chill and sinking into the ground behind her.

“You’ll learn nothing of their locations. For my crime of trespassing into another member’s temple, I was etched from reality! Fools, the lot of you. You’ll be spent sailing around this sea for your entire lives and you’ll never open this door, no matter how badly the Origin wants you to.”

Keelhaul opened his mouth to speak, but Half Pint spoke up first.

“Hey, Captain, you mentioned something about Temple Steppes the other day, bouts how we was supposed to go past it on the way here?”

“Aye, Pint, that be true. But that temple is sealed by—”

“An ancient unknown spell, like the one that just failed a few weeks ago.”

The light in Plesippus’s eyes widened, and then somehow he managed to squint. “Don’t you dare. I forbid it.”

“Come now, Plesi, it’s been ten thousand years. Surely there’s been dozens of cathedrals and dungeons built and sealed within that time. It’s probably nothing to do with you. I mean, of the two you knew, none of them were built on a mountain cleaved into hundreds of massive slabs, right?”

The ghost gasped once, and then realized its mistake. A tirade of curses and swears Applejack was fairly certain no longer meant anything issued from him, and he started screaming at Keelhaul as the changeling turned around and started walking away, laughing.

“Bless you, Plesi, that’s the best confirmation ye could have given me. Onwards, crew! We have ourselves a new heading.”

Applejack glanced at the flustered ghost before cantering to catch up with Keelhaul.

“You’re going to go after the keys, then?”

“Plan hasn’t changed, lass, just the method of execution. I suspect ye’ll be joining us then?”

“I meant what I said. I ain’t going home till that darned thing is in my hooves.”

“Our hooves.”

“Whatever.”

Keelhaul laughed and then slapped Applejack on the back, earning an “oof!” from her.

“Yer strong and stubborn. Ye’ll make a great pirate.”

She stopped suddenly, and yanked Keelhaul back by the tailfin when he continued on. At his curse, she jabbed a hoof into his pointed nose. “Now listen here, Keelhaul. So far you’ve treated me fine and I can’t deny it. But I’m not here to become just some nother employee on your ship, ordered around doing your dirty work. You’re about as trustworthy to me as about as far as I could throw you, and you’re pretty hefty set so that ain’t that far. We work together on this, you understand? Cause regardless of what happens, end of the day, that Source comes home to Equestria with me. Understood?”

The purple eyes squinted further and further as Applejack spoke, and a forked tongue issued out with a light hiss when she finished. 

“Ye be making firm demands for a pony what’s got no transportation save for me ship and no protection save for what I grant ye. What possible ground do ye have to be making such statements to me?”

“Cause I can’t throw you far, but I could buck you hard enough you’d have to change into a creature that’s got a spare head, and if you give me any reason to think I’ve been used and you’re a’sconding with the Source, unlimited power or not, I will squish you in an instant.”

“Ah! Bug jokes. Brilliant, lass,” Keelhaul said, continuing towards the dinghies. “You negotiate like a pirate too. Allow me a counter offer, wouldje?”

“Hmmph.”

“Ye put a ‘Captain’ in front of me name when addressing me, and I let ye snark off and insult me as much as ye want without fear of retribution. The other option is I have Loose Cannon strip yer cutie mark from yer rump with the lash once we get back aboard the ship.”

She considered this.

“Y’know, Captain Keelhaul, back in Ponyville it’s considered obscene to spank a mare you hardly know.”

“There’s a good lass,” he said, grunting as he hopped up into the air and hovered into his seat.

“So, Captain,” Bilge Rat rumbled after they had pushed off from the beach and were making way towards the Infiltrator, “no magical artifact to earn us our retirement yet then?”

“Neigh, Bilge. Not yet. We’ve got plenty a’food and supplies from our last job, though, so I hope ye don’t mind it taking a touch longer than before.”

“How long do you think this’ll take?”

“Well, with nine temples, and only one of them known, I can’t be saying.” He grimaced.

“I mean, it wants to be found, though.”

The heads in the two boats locked onto Applejack.

“Whatcha mean?”

“It wants to be found. Maybe that Akakios feller made a mistake with his spell and didn’t set the timer or whatever long enough. From what little I saw of him it don’t strike me like the kind of mistake he’d make, anger or not. Tell me, have any of you felt some weird pressure, some urge to go find this thing?”

“Aye, lass, that’s why I replaced your original captain and made off with the ‘map’. I knew this would be the big one, felt it in me thorax I did.”

“And the rest of you?”

They nodded, muttering. 

“Captain Keelhaul sometimes has ridiculous ideas and we shoot him down on them,” Loose Cannon said. “But with this one we all agreed instantly.”

“And do you feel that push right now? Any of you?”

“I do,” Half Pint offered. A second later, a rude squeak issued from his boat, and Bilge Rat smacked him upside the head. “Nevermind,” he said, laughing while rubbing his temple.

Applejack rolled her eyes and continued. “Point is I think we’re all on some right track that it wants for us. It knows it's locked in prison and wants out. Maybe it’s bored, I dunno. It’s got some influence on the world, clearly. My guess is it wore away the sealing spell and now it’s trying to convince anypony it can to work towards freeing it. So, sure, we’ll have to sail to nine places, but we’ll probably learn where those are. If anything we can use that urge like a compass.”

“Explain yerself.”

“Well, if we all feel kinda sicklike on the inside when we’re going the wrong way, then we just need to travel in whatever direction we… don’t.”

“It’s a good a plan as any,” Keelhaul said. “Till the rest of us combine some brain cells and think of anything smarter. In the meantime, we know we need to head to Temple Island. It’s almost a straight sailing east, and it seems to me the wind has changed from due west to South-southwest. It’ll take some beating but if the change keeps up we’ll be sailing on a reach. Say… Four days to the island, conditions favourable?”

“Three, Captain,” Half Pint said. “We’ll need t’ turn northward once we’re out of the ice. We’ll be at a reach as soon as we’re out, and downwind if it changes more.”

“Ah, there we go. And then we’ll test yer theory, lass. Let’s hope it’s right.”

“Let’s hope, Captain.”