Mr. Bryant: Travels Trials and Travails of a Man in Equestria

by Silas Grimm

Rating: mature
Tags: Romance, Adventure, Sex, Princess Celestia, Dark, Human, Main 6, Princess Luna, Drama, Gore, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Comedy
Length: 9465

My name is James Bryant. Please help me, I think I've gone insane.

My name is James Bryant. Please help me, I think I've gone insane. Because I know that dreams don't let you travel between worlds. I know that magic doesn't exist. And I know that ponies don't talk. So I would like my straight jacket and padded cell now.

. . . Please?

Mature and tags because I don't know where this is going or if it's going and I don't want to have to change it later. Reviews and criticism always welcome.

Published 2017-08-06 14:20:11 UTC
Last updated 2017-08-14 12:09:42 UTC

Chapter 1

All Things In Moderation

The drinks are strong here. The bar: dingy place out of the way, full of burnouts and old-timers swapping miseries over a glass of one thing or another. Smoke and old lovesongs that nobody listens to anymore fill the air. But at least the drinks are strong. I tell myself I'm not like the other patrons. I haven't given up. I just like strong drinks.

The girl is pretty. Dark brown hair, hazel eyes, lips that want to be kissed. Shapely. Her outfit is tight. Leaves little to the imagination. Her name . . . "Rose," I think she said. I'm drunk, should go home. Something about her makes me stay. Or something about me. Loneliness.

I tell her my name is James. She says something. I think it was supposed to be funny so I laugh. She smiles. Guess that was the right reaction. She leans in close. That dark hair smells like something I can't name but it makes me want her. She promises things. I want the things she promises. Says she can take me somewhere. A good place. She leads me and I follow.

As I stumble after her swaying hips out of the bar into the cold air, does some part of my mind, some voice buried behind desire and a drunken haze protest that this is too good to be true? Maybe, but I'm not listening right now. I have a condom in the pocket of my worn old leather jacket. Wishful thinking when I put it there probably but it seems to have panned out after all.

We walk down quiet well-lit streets, I doing my best not to trip over my own feet while I chat with her about nothing of consequence and try desperately to tell a coherent joke, she the very image of a graceful young woman in the prime of her beauty. Her smile is dazzling when she laughs.

The streets are darker now, fewer streetlights and it's been a couple minutes since I saw so much as a passing car. I don't know this part of town. Does Rose know where she's going? She kisses me, suddenly, chasing the thought from my mind, along with any objection I might have been able to conjure. I follow again, stupid grin plastered once more on my face.

We turn down an alley. It was dark enough before but now the shadows seem more oppressive. Menacing. That voice in the back of my head pipes up again but Drunk and Horny shout him down. Rose stands in front of a door, knocks a sequence in and turns to smile at me as it opens.

"The House of Dreams and Shadows," she says, both an introduction and invitation. I can't think of anything to say, so I nod and enter. The interior is lit by candles and shaded lamps. I can make out the shapes of the people that lie around a large central room in languid repose, sucking long drags on hookahs and talking in hushed tones. Rose takes me by the hand. The smoke is cloying, my senses clouded further.

"Come and share your dreams," Rose says. I nod. Not thinking anymore. Too hard to think here. Too hard to focus on anything but the strange statue of what I think is a horse at first, before it resolves into a woman, holding the moon above her. I'm not sure why I know that the featureless cut stone orb in her hands is the moon but I don't question it.

Rose kneels, pulling me down beside her. The conversations around the room stop, their constant murmur deafening in its absence.

"Weaver of dreams, moon-mother goddess, this one comes to know you and your gifts. Take him in and share with us all the dreams his waking mind conceals."

I'm about to ask what's going on, or at least, slur out a confused grunt, but suddenly a bolt of ice and pain spears into the center of my forehead and into my brain.

Around me, I hear what my suddenly very, VERY sober brain realizes have got to be cultists chanting together; "Take him . . . show us . . . take him . . .show us . . . take him . . .show us . . . ."

I never find out if they get their show because the pain intensifies as the statue suddenly flashes bright and someone, Rose I think, screams in confusion. A woman's voice, not Rose this time but an older voice, infused with calm authority speaks to me.

"Come into my garden child. Do not fear."

I black out.

The memories flooded my mind as I opened my eyes. I looked around me, trying desperately to get my bearings as I cursed my own stupidity. "Dammit dammit dammit," I snarled, my blurry vision clearing to reveal that I was sat up against a stone wall beside a large black-iron gate, with lengths of ivy twisting up and down the surface.

I had to figure out where I was, and what those freaks had done to me, swearing for what had to be the ten-thousandth time in my adult life that I would never get that drunk again. "Come child, there is nothing to be afraid of. You will not be harmed here."

The voice from before, the one that came . . . okay, could not possibly have come from the statue and was now coming from beyond the gate. The one that Rose led me to . . . okay so recent events taken into account, trusting the voice of a woman I didn't know seemed just slightly idiotic at the moment.

"I'm fine right where I am, thank you," I replied as I pushed myself up to a crouch, my back against the wall. I wasn't about to just walk into an ambush. I'm not stupid when I'm sober, although the distinct absence of what should have been a massive hangover was a bit disconcerting. At the time however, I was willing to take the small mercies I could get.

The voice on the other side sighed. "Very well, I understand. We can talk like this if you prefer. I felt you in pain and afraid, and came to help you. I can't see you, which is unusual here."

"How so?" I asked, stalling for time.

"When I walk in dreams, there are few that can hide from my gaze, and fewer still that will refuse me when I offer an audience."

That gave me a moments pause. "When you walk in . . . okay, who are you?"

"My name is Luna," she said.

"And we are currently in . . . ?"

"A dream, correct," she told me in a tone that suggested a stifled giggle.

I thought about it, running my hand across my shaved scalp, an old nervous habit. Now that she mentioned it, the sky was purple and that was the third time it had changed color. Also the sun was winking at me. Wait the sun? How long had I been out? Of course . . . I was still out.

Perhaps noticing my hesitation, Luna spoke again. "Your sleeping mind was in turmoil. It is my duty to guard the realm of dreams, and offer aid where I may. What troubles you?"

I grimaced. "I . . . think I'm in big trouble. In the . . . waking world I mean. I was drunk. There was a girl . . . I followed her somewhere, some kind of cult. It was stupid. I got hit from behind. I'm probably still lying unconscious in front of that weird altar of theirs." I moaned in despair as I followed the thought to its logical conclusion. "Who knows what weird shit they're doing to me right now."

Luna was silent for a moment. "I do not sense you are in any danger right now."

I sighed. "If you weren't a figment of my alcohol soaked imagination that would be an immense comfort."

She snorted in amusement. "I am no such thing, though I suppose you are free to believe that if you wish. So long as you are well, and no nightmare threatens you, I do not mind how you choose to interpret this encounter. At any rate, I think you will be waking up soon. Perhaps it will not be so bad as you believe."

I nodded. "Good. I need to get home before I'm late for work." I think about the long and winding walk with Rose and grimace. "I don't suppose you could guess where I am out there?"

"Hmmm," Luna hemmed in contemplation, "It is difficult for me to say exactly where your physical body lies. But fear not my little pony, you are most definitely within Equestria's borders, so help can not be far away."

"That's a relief," I replied as I struggled to my feet, feeling the world around me drop away as my mind returned to consciousness. Then what she said struck me. "Wait what did you mean by-?"

My eyes snapped open and a wide-eyed light blue pony with what can only be a small, stubby horn jerked back in surprise, before pressing its face back in close.

"What," she asked in an clearly female voice, her tone perplexed and haughty, as though offended that I dare bother her with the mystery of my existence, "are you?"

"Fucked," I replied firmly, before rolling onto my side and vomiting profusely.

At least my hangover was finally where it was supposed to be.

Author's Note

This is my attempt to get back into the swing of writing fanfiction. Still doing the HiE thing.

Here's hoping I haven't completely lost my touch. Of course, reviews and criticism are always welcome.

And for any old friends that see this . . . I'm back. And I missed you guys.

Chapter 2

The Most Important Meal of the Day

Princess Celestia ambled along the halls of her palace at a sedate pace. It was early morning, the sun was newly risen and her first duty of the day dealt with. A rare lull in the daily grind had bought her precious time to enjoy a stroll in the gardens before breakfast, and she hummed a melody to herself, recalling that she had first heard it in a concert hall some four hundred years before, when it was first performed.

Now it was considered a classical piece, old and stuffy to the thinking of the younger generations and held up as an example of beauty and elegance by those possessing a refined taste in music or claiming the same, but at the time it had been a highly experimental piece designed to defy the old conventions of composition and had left the nobility feeling shocked and scandalized. Come to think of it, that might be why she was so fond of it, and just like that decided she would commission a performance. With electric guitars. And kazoos. And bagpipes. Celestia had grown no fonder of the nobility.

Before she could consider further musical mischief making, Celestia entered the private dining hall to discover a disconcerting sight. Luna sat at the table munching away at a muffin and a cup of coffee close to hoof, bags under her eyes as usual but also apparently very much alert. If anything she seemed troubled.

"Sister?" Celestia said, gaining the blue alicorn's attention, "You know you shouldn't have coffee at this hour. You need your rest."

"Hmm," Luna acknowledged as she swallowed a mouthful of muffin, chasing it with a sip of the bitter beverage. Once more, Celestia marveled at her sister's ability to consume the bitter liquid so readily with neither cream nor sugar. "Yes, I know dear sister, but I fear that I shall have no sleep today. I am. . . much troubled by events of this past night, during my forays into the dreamscape."

Celestia sat beside her sister, folding a wing about her. It was uncommon for Luna to be so communicative during the morning, although she was generally more inclined to speak openly of her troubles since the time Starlight Glimmer had forcibly swapped their royal duties and cutie marks. "Would you like to talk about it?" she asked.

"I think it best that I do," Luna agreed, "It will continue to vex me otherwise."

Celestia waited patiently as her sister finished her muffin and downed her coffee. "Last night," Luna finally began, "I encountered a dream with unusual properties. A formless nightmare of the sort born of a mind soaked in fear and pain. A stallion, claiming to have been in danger of some sort although I could sense no true peril to his life."

Luna scrunched her nose up in frustration. "That alone is not so strange. Nightmares do not always take solid form, sometimes manifesting as simple feelings of fear, though not usually so intense, and they often pass without recollection or harm. What was strange was that I could not see him."

Celestia looked at her sister in confusion. "You . . . I don't understand. Couldn't see him?"

Luna's scowl deepened further. "I was able to enter his dream. I could hear him. I calmed his mind as best I could, and manifested a dream garden I often use as a place of comfort and security for those suffering a turmoil I do not yet understand. But I can always see them, merely by virtue of being there. But he hid from me behind a wall that, ordinarily, would not have been there. I invited him in and promised him safety, but he did not trust me. Indeed, he did not seem to know who I was, and insisted that I was a figment of his imagination. I only knew he was a stallion by his voice."

"That is odd," Celestia agreed with a nod, "It's been years since your return. All of Equestria knows who you are and at least a notion of your duties and authority."

"And now I am concerned. He was able to hide from me, believed himself to be in danger but declined my help." Luna slumped dejectedly. "He woke before I could learn more and now I fear that I may have failed him."

Celestia squeezed her sister with her wing. "Well, he'll have to sleep again sometime. And when he does, you'll just have to find him again."

Luna offered a weak smile. "I suppose so. I still find myself perturbed, and unable to rest. But thank you for listening. I do feel a bit better."

Celestia was about to speak again when the door to the hall opened and a messenger pony popped her head in. "Excuse me, your highness, but the Sugar Production Research Union representatives have arrived earlier than expected. They are waiting in conference room four."

A tired sigh escaped Princess Celestia. "Luna . . ." she began but her sister held up a hoof to forestall her apology.

"It's quite alright sister. Go forth and do what you do best. I will burn off this caffeine with a book and try to get an afternoon nap. We can talk again later."

Celestia gave her sister a last quick squeeze and trotted to the door. So much for her little grace period. She was halfway to the conference room when she realized with a groan that she had entirely forgotten to have breakfast at all.

The pain washing through my body and echoing endlessly in my head was made worse by the disgusted and indignant squeals of the impossible blue mare before me. That her presence was not yet my most pressing concern should make it abundantly clear how bad I felt. I was lying on the ground beside a twisting dirt road, propped up against a fence post.

The dream was still clear in my mind, contrary to a lifelong habit of forgetting almost everything about my dreams upon waking. Also clear was what preceded it, which would have made my current circumstances all the more disconcerting if I could have focused on them over the waves of nausea and stabbing light of a mid-morning sun in my all-too-sensitive eyes.

The burning taste of my own sick in my mouth wasn't helping. I tried to speak again. "Klffmmmph." Not quite there yet. I coughed and spat. The mare had ceased her tirade and was glaring at me from several feet away. I tried again, and got, "Klmph. Mpgh."

"Are you . . . trying to speak? Trixie cannot understand you."

I wiped my mouth on the sleeve of my much abused leather jacket and tried once more. "Kill me." Her face contorted through several different emotions. Surprise, horror, then something that could only be an understanding based on first-hand experience, and finally sympathy. Watching this occur on the face of a small horse was too surreal for me to truly process.

"Maybe . . . Trixie could get you some water instead?" she suggested.

"Mkay," I conceded.

I closed my eyes against the sun and must have blacked out again, as when I awoke there was a large cup of water beside me and the blue unicorn . . . mare . . . no I was not ready to process that yet. Not ready for the talking horse that spoke in the third person whom sat watching me from her perch on a nearby rock. Wearing a purple cape and what looked for all the world to be a wizard's hat. With a horn on her head, just kinda . . . there. Nope. Water first.

I drank in slow sips, and found the water cool and crisp, and . . . different. More pure somehow. Refreshing. Also sitting next to me was what seemed to be an apple. My stomach still hurt like all hell but I was somewhere between feeling brave and giving the fewest fucks I had ever given in a life spent giving damn few to begin with, so I snatched up the fruit and took a bite.

If the water had been a surprise, this was . . . indescribable. Like every apple I'd ever eaten before was simply a cheap, sad copy of this fruit. There were taste buds activating on my tongue that had lain dormant my entire life, bringing themselves to bear on this moment with such overwhelming intensity that everything else was forced entirely out of my mind. I was the apple. The apple was the universe. I was one with the universe. I devoured the universe.

The wild ride of highs and lows the last few hours had been left me suddenly drained and, my life-altering breakfast complete, I slumped back against the fence post behind me. It wasn't comfortable but I didn't trust my legs yet.

"Feeling better?" Ah yes, once more with the hallucinatory blue unicorn wizard that had somehow brought me real water and the super apple that might also have been a hallucination. Still there eh? I looked.

Sure enough, there she sat, watching me with that same perplexed and annoyed expression. I weighed my options. While I was in absolutely no mood to engage with any more surreal bullshit, and it was tempting to tell her so, it is my experience that when in doubt, it never hurts to be polite. Even to hallucinatory horses.

"Yes miss, um . . . Trixie was it? I'm feeling a bit better now. Thank you."

She nodded and immediately replied with what had to be the most flamboyantly over-blown stage voice I have ever heard before or since. "The Great and Powerful Trixie welcomes you, for she is also the Kind and Magnanimous Trixie, and would not leave even a poor disfigured ape-creature such as yourself, in dire need of help abandoned by the roadside."

As she spoke, she swished about with her cape as though she really were performing in a show. It was . . . what happens when you go past surreal? Cartoon-ish I suppose? Convinced that I was either high on some really weird drugs or still asleep and having a very peculiar dream, I played along by offering a sitting ovation.

"You seem to be quite the eh, showmare. Do you perform?"

"I . . uh, yes!" Trixie said, taken aback momentarily before her self-importance reasserted itself, "I, the Great and Powerful Trixie, am a traveling performer, a magician and entertainer extraordinaire!"

I put on my best imitation of a starstruck fan. "Oh wow miss, that sounds awful exciting. I'm glad someone like you came along when you did, I would have been in some kind of trouble out here on my own."

You could almost see her inflate as I blew hot air into her ego. Mind you, for all I knew she really was the "Great and Powerful" Trixie but I had read her right as the "Easily Flattered and Slightly Naive" Trixie so at least she would be predisposed not to hurt me if she turned out to be a bigger deal than she seemed.

As the pain of my hangover receded and the light became more bearable I slowly began to inch myself up onto my feet, using the fence post as a support. To my astonishment, my legs actually took my weight with only minimal wobbling.

Trixie looked up with sudden trepidation as I loomed over her at my full height. I'm no giant but I'm a comfortable six feet and change. Poor Trixie was eye-level with my chest and still standing on a rock. I offered her what I hoped translated as a very non-threatening smile. "So, Miss Trixie, could you tell me where we are? I'm afraid I'm a little turned around at the moment."

She nodded, my ignorance offering her a feeling of superiority she could find comfort in. "Of course. We stand upon the road from Fillydelphia to Manehattan. We're about two hours walk from Manehattan, where the Great and Powerful Trixie was going to perform before she found you."

My stomach actually turned over at the horse puns. Also, what?

Trixie must have noticed my expression of pained confusion. "Manehattan is a city. One of the largest in Equestria. If you're going to visit a foreign country you should get a guide, or at the very least buy a map first."

I smiled to hide my growing panic. The clearer my head became, the less like a dream this seemed to me. "You're absolutely right Miss Trixie. I really didn't think this through. You seem to know an awful lot about this place. Would you be willing to show me the way?"

She blushed and shuffled her hooves. "Er . . . the Great and Powerful Trixie would like to help but . . . um . . . ."

"Is something the matter?"

She pointed a hoof past me, down the road where a large and oddly decorated wagon was mired in a ditch. The wheels on one side had sunk deep into the mud.

"My wagon is stuck."

As hard as my panic had been to keep down, the bubbling laughter that threatened to force it's way out was far more difficult. "Great and Powerful" indeed.

"Well," I said, "I suppose I owe you one anyhow." Trixie looked up at me with an adorable expression of embarrassment mingled with hope. I felt a highly uncharacteristic protective feeling stir inside me and made a mental note to be careful of that. Bad idea to get too attached. Still . . . .

"Let's get your wagon unstuck," I proposed with a grin.

She looked at it dubiously. "It's really stuck in there. Do you think just the two of us can do it?"

"Sure," I said, "Should be a matter of a few minutes and a little sweat never hurt anyone. And like I said, I owe you one Miss Trixie."

She hesitated for a moment. "Um . . . thank you for your offer but . . . Trixie does not even know your name."

I stuck out my hand towards her. "James Bryant. Nice to meet you Miss Trixie."

She turned her eyes to my hand, thought for a moment, then gently placed a hoof in it for me to shake. "Trixie Lulamoon. Thank you, and . . . welcome to Equestria, Mr. Bryant."

Chapter 3

Roadside Assistance

In spite of my initial confidence, I felt a little doubt as I approached Trixie's wagon. It was a small but solid looking wooden shack on wheels, and heavier than you might guess at first glance. The purple paintwork and off yellow trim was spattered with mud and dirt, and the small door leading to the interior had been left ajar. Inside, I could see a cozy little living space set up, along with a number of gears and levers whose function I couldn't begin to guess at.

"This is your home?" I asked, looking at the little unicorn. She nodded wordlessly, and I noticed she seemed distinctly upset at the sad state of her rolling domicile. "I like the colors," I offered lamely, not sure what else to say but she managed a small smile.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

A moment or two passed. "Right, let's get this done," I said, breaking the silence. The harness was still in place and didn't seem damaged, but it was a little too small for me to use properly. The right-side wheels were both sunk deep in the mud and I could see that they would take some work to get out. I cast around and saw a branch nearby. "That'll do."

Trixie looked on as I took the sizable limb and jammed it into the mud, wiggling and working it to try and get under the wheel. Once I was satisfied, we both levered and pushed, strained and pulled. With a loud sucking sound, the wagon began to come free, and gradually we were able to wrestle it loose from the mud and back onto the road.

I was sweating and panting by the time we were done and Trixie was in a similar state. To top it off we were both covered in mud, and the gentle cool of the morning had become the heat of midday. My jacket sat on the wagon where I had placed it once I realized how hot and messy the job was going to be, (joined shortly by Trixie's cape and hat) but the rest of my clothes were in dire need of a wash.

Of course, even if a washing machine had been present, neither of use were in any condition to do anything about it. Instead we simply sat and tried to recover. After a few minutes, Trixie managed to get back on her hooves. "Water?" she asked simply.

"Yeah," I said, "And another apple if you could spare it."

"Sure," she replied. She retreated into the newly recovered wagon and stood up myself to look out around, properly taking in my surroundings for the first time now that the exertion had cleared the last of the fog from my mind. The road ran through some of the most beautiful countryside I had ever seen. I stood at the bottom of a gently descending slope, one of the rolling hills that made up the local geography. Fences marked the borders of farmland all around us, including the one I had been leaning on when Trixie found me.

"Here you are Mr. Bryant," Trixie said behind me.

"Thank you Miss Trixie," I replied as i turned to take an apple before snatching my hand back as though I had been bitten. The apple was floating in midair, caught in a nebulous glowing field of pinkish . . . stuff. My jaw worked but all that came out was a strangled yelp of surprise and I actually fell on my rump and scuttled back, not daring take my eyes off the possessed demon-apple.

Trixie jumped a bit at the sound, and the apple dropped to the ground as the pinkish glow vanished. "What, what is it?! What's wrong?"

I looked at her in disbelief. "Are you saying you didn't see that?!" I exclaimed, pointing cautiously at the apple, lying harmlessly on the ground.

"See what?" Her expression growing more agitated.

"Floating demon-apple! Pink glowing! Right in front of you!"

Agitation became surprise, disbelief, and finally . . . laughter. "Ohhaha Mr. Bryant, Trixie thought-(hehe) thought you were in trouble- (snirk). Have you never seen magic?" As she spoke, her horn began to take on the same pinkish glow, which extended to the apple. The fruit rose once more from the ground. It swooped over to her side and wiped itself clean on her cape.

I worked my jaw again, still finding nothing clever to say, and settled for, "No."

"Hmm," she said, "You really are from far away, aren't you? Well relax, the Great and Powerful Trixie will not harm you. Here." The apple was offered once more in what I realized was a real, genuine magical aura.

"Just a dream, just a dream," I muttered, less convinced each with each repetition as I accepted the red fruit, and then a cup full of water delivered in the same manner. Trixie had the temerity to laugh again at my discomfort, but she was feeding me so I decided to let her live. This time.

Still, as I ate I continued to contemplate the nature of what I was seeing. So utterly convincing were my surroundings, that I found myself forgetting that they were impossible. So, I mentally addressed each possibility. First, of course, was a dream. From what I knew of lucid dreams, once the dreamer is lucid they should have complete control. I focused my gaze on Trixie and concentrated.

She caught me staring and shifted uncomfortably. "What?"

"Mmmh. Nothing, just a thought," I said shrugging.

"Well forget it," she quipped, looking down her muzzle in disdain, "The Great and Powerful Trixie has standards and they must be maintained."

I smiled and shrugged, not bothering to correct her. Inwardly, I scratched lucid dreaming off the list as she had conspicuously failed to transform into a scantily clad Mila Kunis holding a bottle of chocolate syrup and a catcher's mitt.

The next possibility was a drug induced hallucination, either slipped in my drink at the bar the night before or given to me during the subsequent visit with Rose to her weird dream cult's shrine. I tried to figure what the time frame was, and gave up when I realized that even if I could reasonably track the time that had passed, I had no way of knowing how long the trip might last. So it was still possible, but there was no way to test it and nothing I could do about it.

The third possibility, and I forced myself to think about it, was that I was lying in front of that damn statue bleeding out and this was my dying brain lighting up one last time, trying to play me out with something less distressing. Again, nothing I could do about that, except curse Rose to my dying breath. Come to think of it, was that even her real name? Still, I felt fine and it seemed to me that I was doing an awful lot of thinking for a dying man. Unless . . . this was the afterlife? I didn't put much stock in that but filed both thoughts under the general label, "death."

The last possibility, which was difficult to swallow, was also the one that I couldn't shake. I mean, I had to look around at what I was seeing. It was all so real, so utterly convincing. The apple, as I finished off the last few bites, was for all it's incredibly delicious qualities, utterly convincing as a true and real thing. The ground under me, the breeze that caressed my face, the coolness of the water as I took a sip. It was all so impossible, but so unnervingly there, so completely present. I idly picked a blade of grass and released it, watched it fall to the ground. No, there was no way to avoid it.

I was clearly insane.

Even as I had the thought, I was locked up in a padded cell somewhere, raving about ponies and magic and apples and possibly magic apples while men in white coats fought my thrashing to give me a sedative. I would eventually be drugged into submission, to spend my days as a drooling lunatic until I snapped out of it or died, my mind locked away in this beautiful fantasy. Or maybe I was already comatose, a vegetable with tubes shoved in various orifices to keep me ticking along in the futile hope I might one day awaken. "Either way, this beats the hell of anything I had going on before," I thought as I looked around and stood, my meal finished.

Trixie was fiddling with a series of knobs and levers cleverly hidden behind a small covering on the side of her wagon. With a loud clack, what looked to be a shower head and crank sprang out. As she turned the crank, a pump hissed and spat, then began pumping a steady flow of water. She eagerly allowed the mud to wash from her and beckoned to me, indicating it was my turn. I didn't need a second invitation.

As I let the water clean me and my clothes, at least as well as it could, she explained that the pump drew from a reservoir that collected rainwater from a catch on the wagon's roof, pushed it through a filter, and spat it out clean. Not enough for a proper bath, but a shower every few days was usually doable, and when rain was scarce she could draw from rivers and lakes if she was too far from civilization. I had to hand it to the mare, it was a clever set up and I said as much. "A minor accomplishment for the Great and Powerful Trixie," she said waving a hoof, but I could tell she was pleased by her smile and a poorly-concealed blush.

"Now then," I said, retrieving my cigarettes from my jacket, "you said Manehattan was just a couple miles down the way, yes?"

"Mhmm," she confirmed, donning her cape and hat again, "I'm going to try and raise enough bits to afford some upgrades to my wagon."

I was about to ask what kinds of upgrades she had in mind, but something stopped me in my tracks. "Hey, you spoke in the first person."

She sighed. "Yes well . . . I don't have that many friends. When I do make one . . . I try to tone it down. Usually." She paused a moment, looking suddenly nervous. "That is, if you want . . . ."

I got the feeling that "friend" was a fairly new thing for her. She seemed to expect rejection and I guess I could see how some might be put off a bit by her first impression, but then I didn't know if she was representative of her kind. I didn't think she was such a bad sort, just a little bombastic.

"It would be my pleasure, Miss Trixie," I said with a bow and flourish, earning a giggle.

"Likewise, Mr. Bryant." She looked at the sun, then down the road. "I think we have time to make it the rest of the way to town if we set out now. You don't know the area and I'd hate for you to get lost. I assume you'll be heading to Manehattan as well?"

I shrugged. "I didn't really have any plans, so I think I'm with you for the foreseeable future."

This seemed to satisfy her, as she maneuvered herself into position in front of the wagon and deftly donned the harness. "Then let us be off."

I took up position beside her, preparing to walk slowly and possibly offer to do the pulling, but she set off at a brisk pace, the wagon rolling along smoothly now that it was on the road again, and I was forced to quick step for a moment to catch up. I smiled at my own silliness. Of course she could pull the thing just fine. It was her home, she probably pulled it everywhere she went. Come to think of it . . . .

"Miss Trixie," I asked, "How did your wagon end up in the ditch?"

She blushed and looked away. "I stopped near to top of the last hill to camp for the night. I must have forgotten to set the brakes and at some point it started rolling while I was asleep. The first thing I knew about it was being thrown out of my bed. It scared me half to death, but nothing was damaged so I went back to sleep, thinking I'd deal with it in the morning, but when I woke up it had sunk into the mud. I was going to walk to the city for help, and then I found you."

"Ah. Well, I'm glad you did. Find me that is, not the getting stuck part."

"Me too."

The trek to Manehattan took several hours. At about the halfway mark, just as the city was coming into view, I offered to take over pulling the wagon. She agreed, looking at the hill ahead of us. Of course, I first had to acknowledge that the Great and Powerful Trixie would be perfectly capable of getting all the way there, of course, and with no difficulty naturally, but as her newest friend I, the Tall and Ruggedly Handsome James, must pull my weight as it were, and seeing as she had already fed me twice but I had only pulled a wagon out a ditch the one time I still owed her one.

Of course as we switched places, this became a commentary on the possible implications for the wagon-pulling and apple-eating economy, as ponies haggled over the proper number of apples eaten to wagons pulled and whether a one-to-one ratio was even remotely sustainable in the long term, which I reckoned it was based on the apples in Equestria being the best thing ever which she thought sounded a bit silly, saying I reminded her of someone named "Applejack," apparently the one that had originally sourced the apples.

As we crested the last hill, I was treated to my first sight of a pony city. The best description I could offer would have to be "abrupt." It simply rose quite suddenly, a metropolitan city center interrupting the countryside as the dirt roads became cobblestone and everywhere I looked I saw them filled with carts and wagons pulled along every which way, pulled along by ponies in a bewildering variety of color combinations. To the west I saw a train pulling into the city.

I became distracted by a sudden flurry of shadows and looked to the skies, only to gape in astonishment as ponies flew over us in tight formations, borne upon bird-like wings as they approached a nearby cloud, and proceeded to literally beat it into non-existence with their hooves.

Trixie observed my reactions. "You really are new to Equestria, Mr. Bryant. Never seen pegasi before?"

I didn't look away from the spectacle above, taking it in as they dived and swooped, performing mid-air acrobatics that defied explanation. I might not be especially educated in the field, but I was pretty sure the aerodynamics at work should have been impossible.

Suddenly the cart behind was shoved rudely forward by a push from behind. "Hey there, move it up!" a gruff voice addressed us, it's owner clearly the one that had shoved me, "Some of us got places to be! I ain't got time for a couple of bumpkins staring at the clouds!"

That was fair enough, I guess, we were blocking the road, but Trixie was having none of it. She rounded on the speaker with an indignant snort. "Who dares to address the Great and Powerful Trixie so rudely?!"

The sound of a cart being unhitched and stomping hooves announced the approach of a large pony. I still couldn't see him around the wagon, but I could guess by his voice he was on the big side.

"Big Britches, of Big Britches Pants and Pantaloons Emporium! And I've heard of you, Trixie Lulamoon." The hoofsteps grew closer as he approached, and Trixie stepped back, suddenly unsure of herself. "You're a two-bit showpony with a chip on your shoulder. But let me tell you something, little miss pain-in-the-flank I ain't-ACK!" His tirade ended as he rounded the corner of the wagon and finally got a good look at me.

The stallion that had appeared had neither horn nor wings. He did however have a pair of jeans on that were straining against the considerable girth of his barrel. He was a tan-brown shade, with a slightly darker brown mane. He was also quite short. Taller than Trixie, maybe, but he did have to tilt his head back to look me in the eye.

I leaned down closer to him. "Hi there," I said, smiling.

"He-he-hello," Big Britches stuttered.

"I'm sorry for holding you up," I said, "I'm new here, and I didn't mean to inconvenience you. But when you insulted my friend Trixie, you might have bitten off a bit more than you could chew."

He gulped and nodded.

"How about you go back to your cart, and we'll be out of your way in a moment."

Another nod.

"Go. Now." He scampered out of sight. Trixie looked at me skeptically. "What?"

"Bit off more than you could chew?" She said, using her hooves to make little air quotes, "That's the best you could come up with?"

"Well what would you have said?" I asked.

She rolled her eyes with the patient attitude of a long-suffering teacher with a particularly slow student. "I would have told him not to get too big for his britches."

I watched her turn to continue on, my jaw working silently for a moment. "Dammit she's right," I muttered, "That actually would have been really good."

Chapter 4

Equestrian Screening Procedures

Big Britches had reminded me of a general rule that applies to most major cities: keep your head on a swivel, and if you want to gawk at something make sure you're out of the way first. Mind you, that wasn't generally hard to do as we made our way towards the city, as most ponies were careful to give us a wide berth. Eventually I realized they were mostly trying to stay away from me. "I didn't think I was that intimidating," I said to Trixie as several mares nearly fell over each other in a squealing pile to get out of my way.

Trixie looked at me incredulously. "You nearly scared Big Britches out of his own namesake back there."

I couldn't help but chuckle. "Yeah, but I was trying to scare him." I gestured at an elderly couple that had elected to leave the road entirely just to avoid me. "You didn't react like that at first."

"City ponies," she said dismissively, "The Great and Powerful Trixie has wandered far and wide, and seen many incredible creatures. These sheltered foals rarely have occasion to leave Manehattan. Of course they're afraid of anything different. I once heard of an entire town that was shut down by the appearance of a single zebra."

"Speaking of Big Britches," I said, "I noticed he didn't have a horn. Or, erm, wings."

"He was a member of the earth tribe," Trixie said, "I am a member of the unicorn tribe, and the fliers you saw earlier were pegasi. Each has talents and traits unique to them." She tossed her mane, showing off her horn as she did. "Unicorns have the most obvious form of magic, which is why most outside of Equestria assume that only unicorns have any magic at all. Even young unicorns can use simple telekinetic spells to levitate and manipulate things. You've seen me do that. With more study, they can learn to do more."

"Like you," I said, "You must have studied a long time to learn magic well enough that you can put on a show with it. If the ability is all that common, I would think the competition would be intense."

She waved her hoof. "No no no. I mean, it's true that I, The Great and Powerful Trixie, possess great magical talent and have even studied with Starlight Glimmer, the personal student of Princess Twilight Sparkle and my own closest friend." I almost gagged choking down my laughter at the ridiculous names but she didn't seem to notice and continued. "But my show, while it incorporates my magic into the act, is more closely based on the kind of "magic shows" that earth ponies or pegasi perform sometimes. It depends more heavily on illusion and sleight of hoof than spells."

"So . . . you're an illusionist that can do actual magic?" I asked, just to be clear I understood.

"Yes. . . Why are you laughing?!"

As we got closer, I began to realize that Manehattan was actually positioned on an island, which explained the abrupt way that it seemed to emerge from the countryside so suddenly when seen fro a distance. I know I should have realized this but like I said, I'd never been to Manhattan and even if I had, I couldn't have been sure how much the two actually had in common. The roads I had seen before all converged on a bridge, and as the dirt beneath my feet gave way to cobblestone, I saw that the train tracks crossed at the same point.

I anticipated a quite reasonably to encounter a traffic jam once we arrived at that bridge but I was gratified to see that the line was fairly short and moving quickly. There was a small booth with a red and white striped arm that raised for each wagon or pony in turn when they approached and lowered behind them. The two ponies manning the booth almost made me stop in my tracks again. They wore resplendent plate mail armor that looked for all the world to be made of solid gold. In contrast to the gaudy uniforms, their spears looked simple and utilitarian, held ready for use at a moment's notice, and the swords sheathed at their sides seemed much the same.

Trixie saw me looking. "Royal Guard," she said, "They make up the bulk of Equestria's military and law enforcement. Did you actually come here without looking any of this up?"

I shook my head. "The trip wasn't . . . planned. Or consensual. I'm not really complaining, Equestria seems really nice and all but I didn't arrive here by conventional means."

"Oh." She seemed to struggle internally, and seemed unsure what to make of that. "Well, maybe somepony in town can help?"

"Maybe," I shrugged, not feeling very hopeful on that point given the available theories regarding my situation. We might have discussed further but it was our turn at the booth and the Royal Guard were evidently as wary of my appearance as the ponies on the road had been. It was a much more disconcerting now however as they had spears. The way they manipulated the weapons seemed impossible given their hooves, (I had assumed they would be unicorns but closer inspection proved them both to be pegasi) but still they managed with great dexterity.

The one on the right held a clipboard in one hoof as he addressed Trixie, while the guard to my left kept their spear not-quite-but-almost pointed at me. "Name and reason for entering the city?"

"I am the Great and Powerful Trixie!" she announced, with a flourish, "Come to offer displays of wonder and magic from the four corners of Equestria, and beyond!"

The guard gave her a deadpan expression and said flatly, "I'm sorry miss, I'm afraid I can't enter that in the log book. Just your name and reason for entering the city."

Before she could worked up in a huff, I leaned over to address the one with the clipboard. "Trixie Lulamoon and James Bryant, here to conduct commerce."

Well that gave both the guards a start, I can tell you, and that spear had gone from "almost" to "definitely" pointing at my neck. I gave them both my the most charming smile I could. "Good afternoon uh . . ." I glanced at his lapel, saw the small raised bars there and took a guess, hoping a few names weren't the only thing that coincided with home, ". . .lieutenant. Thank you for your fine work. I apologize for the off-putting first impression, but you have my word, I will keep Miss Lulamoon on her best behavior while we're here."

There was a moment of complete silence. Then the guard with the clipboard burst out laughing. "Ohoho you're a scary one alright, but at least you're funny. Lower your spear corporal."

"Are you sure el-tee?" said the spear-pointing enthusiast, confirming my guess about Equestrian rank insignia and allowing me to identify him as a corporal, "He looks like rough company to me and I've never seen his kind here before."

"So we make a note of it," the lieutenant replied reasonably, "Sir, if I might have the name of your species and land of origin, for the record?"

"Human. United States Of America," I said, not wanting to get into confusing details.

"Never heard of it," he said to neither my surprise nor his, "Interesting name too. What does it mean?"

"Doesn't mean anything I know of," I told him, "Just a name."

"Well," he said, "That satisfies me. Good enough for you corporal?"

"Yes sir!" The reply came crisp and sharp as the spear blade was removed from my general direction entirely, allowing me to relax a hair.

"I apologize for my subordinate, he's young and easily spooked. I am Lieutenant Stoic Vigil of Her Majesty's Royal Guard. Welcome to Equestria, and to Manehattan in particular. Do let one of our patrols know if you have any problems."

"Much appreciated," I replied.

With that, the arm was raised and we were allowed to pass without further incident.

Trixie glared at me. "How did you know what to say?"

"I worked some years in security," I told her, "They might be military but guard duty is guard duty. All they really want is to make sure you aren't a threat to them or their post. I would wager most folks that go through that check point are probably in a hurry to get where their going. At best, most travelers barely acknowledge them and plenty of them will be downright rude, and those guys are out there day in and day out putting up with bad attitudes and being taken for granted. A simple thank you and some good humor goes a long way with someone that works a job like that."

For some time after that we walked in silence, traversing the bridge as the sun began to dip to the horizon behind us, the shadows lengthening as dusk approached.

"Thank you." Trixie didn't look at me, but kept her eyes firmly on the city in front of us.

"Sure," I said after a moment, "For what?"

She sighed. "Trixie . . . I have a habit of going overboard. It took a really good friend to help me realize it, and I've been trying to keep it in check. Sometimes I don't do so well." She paused for awhile, and I waited for her to continue. "I think that if you hadn't spoken up with the guards back there, I might have said something I would regret, but you knew what to say and how to say it. And you stepped in when you saw me having trouble. So . . . thank you for that."

As the shadows grew to encompass the world in night, and the stars began to twinkle above us, I glanced down at what I realized was a troubled, tired mare. She'd been through a lot and I figured a great deal of it weighed on her. Maybe she and I had more in common than I thought. "Hey, no problem," I said, "Though if you really are feeling grateful, there is something you could do to make it up to me."

Her expression turned from gratitude to suspicion. "What's that?"

I pointed over my shoulder at the wagon. "Could you put me up tonight? I don't think the hotels around here are gonna take dollars American."

Thankfully Trixie did agree to let me stay the night on the floor of her wagon, but I still felt obliged to try at least a few places just in case I might get lucky, but after the third try it was pretty clear there wasn't any point going to a fourth and we were both too damn tired anyway.

As it transpires I was absolutely correct about the issue with currency, as none of the locals recognized the wrinkled paper I produced from my wallet, not that I had enough on me to pay for a room and even if they had been willing to take a card, I knew for a fact that it was maxed out and my bank account had been negative for a week. Come to think of it, if this was all happening in my head it made perfect sense that I wouldn't be able to use money: broke had simply been a way of life for me going on a year or so by that point. Why should it be any different here?

Never mind the fact that none of the desk clerks were all that keen to work with me on it. They seemed more concerned about how their other guests would react to my presence than whether I could actually pay. The last one in particular looked at me as though I had offended his mother simply by walking through the door, and he informed me in THE most posh accent I have ever heard before or since that they had no available rooms in any event, disregarding the blinking "vacancy" sign outside.

My attempts had been made along the way to the so-called "Merchant's Park." Trixie's original destination. The Park was actually a block or so of normally empty lots where travelling merchants and a few performers could rent space to set up kiosks and stands in an odd combination of outdoor mall and year-round carnival. Apparently Trixie had made arrangements for a space in advance, and the attendant at the gate gave her a ticket with the number "42" and some sort of authorization code scribbled on it, as well as a map with directions to her spot marked on it. He seemed to be making a conscious effort not to notice me, and I decided not to make that any harder for him.

We took some twists and turns around other wagons, booths, tents and displays, locked down and closed for the night. "Thursday nights," Trixie explained, "It's always slow so most ponies close up around nine o'clock tonight. Tomorrow will be busier."

"What time is it now?"

"Nearly midnight," she told me, "We were walking a lot longer than I expected."

Sure enough, we didn't see a single other pony as we wound our way to space 42, which was a neatly marked spot near the back northwest corner of the Park. I did hear the sound of snoring a few times, as well as quiet laughter and politely hushed conversation. Even a particularly lustful moan at one point.

Here, surrounded on all sides by the massive edifices of urban life, you could almost feel like you were in a small village, a quiet little town bedding down for the night with complete disregard for the all-hours hustle and bustle of Manehattan. By the time we had the wagon in place we were both completely exhausted. My stomach was empty to the point of snarling and I was starting to really feel the nicotine withdrawal, but I just couldn't keep my eyes open. Trixie crawled into her bunk and I lay on the narrow strip of open floor, and without another word I promptly fell asleep.