Coco

The island of Saint Garnet was a paradise for those ponies wealthy enough to afford a visit and stay there. It was a sleeping volcano, true, but it was situated well within the northern tropics. The water was a clear blue, the sands were white, the jungle verdant, the sky vast and open. In the town of Fort Fairweather, the buildings were all brightly colored, in pinks, yellows, greens, and oranges.

Every window was open, the awnings were rolled out, and curtains drawn back. Crates of produce and raw sugar were piled up on the docks, waiting to be loaded to an old freighter; while a steamer sat waiting to take her passengers back to Equestria. The air was salty, sweet, and bore a hint of woodsmoke. Just another pleasant day in a pleasant land.

Alas, it was Coco Pommel's last evening in Fort Fairweather. The sun was starting to set, and she was enjoying the view from the pier. After her new-found friend, Rarity, had gotten her that stint making costumes for big-time plays, Coco's fortunes had only gone up. It had been Rarity's idea that she take a vacation to Saint Garnet in the winter; it was a wonderful break from the dreary grey skies of Manehatten.

It was also a wonderful way to spend some of her new paycheck. If she had been told last winter that in one year's time, she'd be relaxing on Saint Garnet instead of getting coffee and slaving away for her wretched boss, Coco would have laughed. Or cried. Maybe both.

But those days had passed. Now Coco was her own mare, and was it ever good! Sure, she had more publicity to deal with; but there was no such thing a bad publicity, they said. For now, she was obscure, but her name’s weight would grow in the fashion world. Coco couldn't help but smile to herself. Yes, times were good indeed.

As she was walking, Coco noticed a poster tacked to a telegraph pole. NOTICE! it read, Travelers intending to embark on any voyage to the southerly seas are reminded that a state of war exists between the the Republic of Hivald and the Kingdom of Cania and her allies; that the zone of war includes waters adjacent to Cania; that in accordance with formal notice given by the Tetrarchy, vessels flying the flag of Cania or of any of her allies are liable for detention, confiscation, or destruction in those waters and travelers sailing in the war zone on ships of Cania or her allies do so at their own risk. -The Embassy of the Republic of Hivald.

“How sad...” sighed Coco, shaking her head at the poster. She wondered why the dogs of Cania were fighting the rats of Hivald. Never had she met one of either realm or race, and that was likely to remain so. But Princess Celestia did not start any trouble with other countries; perhaps it was her one thousand years of wisdom, perhaps it was due to Equestria just being a more advanced culture. It was rare for Equestrian diplomacy to fail.

The troubles of distant lands she'd never visit slipped out of Coco's mind quickly. She was more interested in the various stalls merchants had set up along the piers, selling and hawking their exotic wares. Local fruits, raw and refined sugar, spices of every variety, from cloves to nutmeg, and things from further beyond: woodwork from the Griffon Kingdom of Frithland, clocks and pocket watches from the dogs of Cania, uncut gemstones supposedly formed in dragonfire from the legendary Halls of Corthunien. To a young mare who had never set hoof more than a few dozen miles from home before this week, it was all exhilarating.

Coco stopped at a silk merchant's stall. He had quite an array of goods. It wouldn't hurt to get some new materials, thought she.

“Good evening!” said the merchant, a blue unicorn with round-lensed spectacles. Like all the locals, his speech had an accent to it, far more laid back than anyone at home sounded. “What might you be looking for?”

“I'm not entirely sure,” Coco admitted, “but I work in Manehatten as a designer. Show me something eye-catching, if you’d please.”

“Ah, I have plenty of that.” the merchant said. He brought up a square of purple cloth. “I don't have the full roll here, but I do have this sample. I believe this was made by the same guild that tailors to the High King of the Griffons. It's very high quality, whatever you make from this will last more than a few years.”

“It certainly is nice.” nodded Coco. “But purple is a bit... Well, somepony I worked for tried purple a few months ago, it didn't go so well. What else do you have?” The merchant went through white, green, and blue silks, before levitating up a roll of vibrant red.

“This here comes from beyond the Thither Shore!” he whispered. “Well, not exactly. The silk came from beyond the Thither Shore, they tell me, but it was dyed and woven somewhere else before finding its way to me.”

“The Thither Shore?” asked Coco. “I thought that was forbidden to ponies?”

“So it is, but it wasn't a pony who sold me this. It was a griffon.” stated the merchant, smiling slyly. “He said it was made from the silk of spiders. Big ones, too.”

“Goodness!” Coco raised a hoof and leaned back a little. “Do those really exist?”

“Of course!” exclaimed the merchant. He brought up a large fang from under his stall, the size of her muzzle, if not bigger. “He gave me this to prove that this silk really did come from a giant spider. Or a dozen.”

Coco shuddered as she imagined how big the rest of the spider would have been. “Point taken...” She took a moment to think. It was a beautiful shade of red he had here... And it was certainly exotic. Spider-silk clothes line... Why not? She had the coin. “I'll buy it. The whole roll.”

“You've made a wise choice, my friend!” the merchant stated, grinning.

It was an awkward trip back to her hotel; she had to balance the silk roll over her saddlebags and back the whole way. The issue of keeping the silk on balance was enough that she didn't notice the stallion who came around the corner right in front of her until it was too late. He apparently didn't notice either, because he seemed quite confused as to how he ended up on the ground with a roll of silk on him.

“Oh no, I'm terribly sorry!” Coco rushed forward to help the dusty-brown stallion up. He had a short but wavy grey mane, and a bit of shadow over his lower jaw. His cutie mark was very unusual, a golden skull of some kind of ape, with a ruby in one socket. What did it mean?

“The fault is mine, Miss.” the stallion said. For a moment, she thought he was a local, given the fact he had an accent. But he had the wrong accent, Coco noted, as she helped him to his hooves. She couldn't put a hoof on where it came from, as she'd never heard anything quite like it before. “I'm getting clumsy in my old age, I fear!” he laughed, brushing off his well-worn khaki jacket. A hole! Coco gasped.

“You've torn your jacket!” she exclaimed.

“Hmm? Oh, that. No matter.” It was like he didn't even care how he looked. Well, any stallion that wore a red bandana with white polka-dots around his neck probably didn't care. “What's your name, Miss? I'm Caballeron. Doctor Caballeron, to be proper.” A doctor? He must work at the local hospital, then.

“I'm Coco Pommel.” answered she, offering a hopeful smile. “I might not fix ponies, but I can fix your jacket, if you'd like. I'd hate to be the cause of you going around looking like a rustic.”

“I don't fix ponies either, Miss Pommel.” the doctor laughed again. “I just hold a doctorate in archeology. I'm certainly no physician... I've probably hurt more ponies than healed in my time.”

“Oh.” Coco said, feeling suddenly rather silly for making such an assumption.

“My kind of work often takes one up against... unsavory competitors, let's put it that way. As to your offer...” Coco was sure it must have been strange to have a random pony offer her sewing services at the drop of a roll of silk, but she couldn't just walk away after causing such havoc! “Why not? Never turn down anything free, I've always said.”

“You won't regret it!” Coco stated, standing up straighter. “I'm a designer, from Manehatten, I do this for a living. Your jacket will be in good hooves with me.”

Author's Note

Yes, this is exactly what it looks like. Now, why was Coco so willing to offer a total stranger her skills in clothes-mending? They met literally a moment ago. Well, folks, you'll just have to wait for the next chapter. And Rarity's generosity must have left a big impression on her, too.

Updates coming... Every few days? Every week? I'm half done with this as it is, but the contest deadline is April 30th. We'll see. For my loyal followers, Across the Sea will return once this is done.