Caballeron

Nutmeg steamed out of Saint Garnet without any problems. The first time Caballeron had ever been aboard, they'd managed to blow a valve in the engine room after three hours and had to raise the auxiliary sails to get back to the port they'd just left. Needless to say, Captain Billet had gotten a new engineer. One who didn't spend all his bits on rum. They didn't get blown valves anymore, at least on the times Caballeron had sailed with them since.

It had been four hours now, and everything was in order. Miss Pommel had been put in the cabin next to his, no doubt much smaller and barer than the one she had reserved for the ship she was supposed to be one. He wondered just what was in those suitcases of hers, though.

As soon as Caballeron had deposited the troublesome Horn in his cabin, he went back up to the covered portion of the deck. It stretched from under the wheelhouse and around the funnel, before opening up again to the aft deck. There wasn't any seating like there'd be on a passenger liner, but Caballeron was content to just stand at the railing and look astern at the slowly-vanishing green of Saint Garnet to the northeast.

Hold on, thought he, something isn't quite right... He heard hooves on the wooden planks behind him, and turned to greet his visitor. Just as he expected, it was Miss Pommel. Briefly, Caballeron wondered why she was coming to talk to him again, but then it occurred to him that he was the only pony she knew on this entire ship.

“This crew is certainly an interesting bunch.” she commented.

“I take it you've met a few of them?”

Pommel nodded. “The quartermaster, the second mate, and the cooks. Why do the need two cooks, anyway?”

“The Captain is an interesting stallion.” said Caballeron. He looked again at Saint Garnet, before getting back to what he was saying. “If he thinks this ship needs two cooks, then by Celestia, it will have two cooks.”

“Well, if you trust his judgment, then I will too.” she stated, placing a hoof firmly on the deck as a sign of her finality. Caballeron pointed out that she hadn't even known him twenty-four hours, but all Miss Pommel said to that was: “I'm stuck on this ship until we get to Equestria. I'd rather trust you than not on this voyage.”

He could see the logic in that, as dangerous as it was. But he didn't have any ill-intent towards her, right? This little mare was in no danger here, as foolish as some of her notions were.

A third pony then joined them, coming down the stairs leading to wheelhouse. “Welcome back, Doctor.” said Shoal Spar, the second mate of the ship.

“Hello, Mister Spar.” said Caballeron coolly. It wasn't that he didn't like the green pegasus, he had a healthy respect for him; but it was just that the two of them had never really seen eye-to-eye on everything. “Would you mind informing me on our present course? I can't help but notice we seem to be headed due west instead of northwest...”

“We are?” Pommel asked, finally noticing what he had kept glancing at while they spoke.

“Yes, Miss Pommel.” said Spar. “The Captain got a telegram a few hours ago from a friend of ours in Adin. He's willing to cut us in on a big deal involving coffee grounds, if we can show up in time.” Caballeron felt his stomach sink.

“Adin?” he repeated. “That's down in Zebradom.”

“So it is. Consider it a detour. I know you had hoped to get home soon, but there's a profit to be made here.” All Caballeron could do was frown.

“But- but I need to be in Manehatten by the end of the week!” Miss Pommel protested, her ears going flat.

“We'll be raising the auxiliary sails soon.” Spar assured her. “Fate willing, we'll make Adin in three days, perhaps even two. And if this deal goes off as planned, we will be in Manehatten by the end of the week, just you want.”

Miss Pommel could only look worriedly at her hooves. “But I have a client to meet...” she said quietly.

“Put your trust in the winds, or find a god and start praying. As for me... I trust our Captain to meet the deadline.” With that, Spar departed for below decks. Caballeron gave Miss Pommel an apologetic look.

“I guess things are taking a turn against both of us.” he said. “If I had known Captain Billet intended to sail for Zebradom, I probably would have found a different ship for both of us.” Assuming one remained working long enough for him to even board. “But this was the only one leaving Saint Garnet for the next three days...”

“I understand.” Pommel sighed, in a resigned tone. “It's just... missing an important meeting because I woke up late isn't a good way to start my career.”

“On the bright side, we're still heading home. Eventually.”

True enough to Spar's word, the auxiliary sails were shortly raised on the two masts; square-rigged in the front, and rigged fore-and-aft in the back. For an old steamer, Nutmeg had a decent amount of speed to her. Caballeron didn't know exactly how fast they were going, knots just confused him; but he was able to see why Spar was so confident in their timing.

Unfortunately, his newest acquaintance was not so confident. Try as she might, Miss Pommel couldn't seem to get her mind off how upset she was about this detour. She eventually retired to her cabin early, after trying to talk with him for a few hours. Caballeron almost felt a tinge of guilt for getting her passage on Nutmeg, but even he hadn't know about Billet's intent to go to Zebradom. What could he have possibly done differently? At least they had a chance of making it to Manehatten in time. The next ship departing would not have made it in time for Miss Pommel's meeting.

That night, Caballeron ate in the mess with rest of the crew not on duty. “Alright, you wretches, gather 'round! We've got tomato soup tonight!” Brig yelled, standing over a large, steaming kettle.

“And biscuits too!” added in Jig.

Caballeron sat at the bench with two of the ponies he was starting to get to know after three voyages; Quartermaster Forestay and Engineer Sand Stratum. Forestay spoke first: “So, Doctor Caballeron, what quest are you on this time?”

“Off to battle Daring Do for some ancient relic?” laughed Sand Stratum.

“Every day I regret my decision to let that Yearling 'borrow'my name.” grumbled Caballeron. He did know these ponies, but he didn't consider them friends. Still, conversation was conversation. “She was a student of mine, when I was doing graduate work at Lithton University. How did I know that a belligerent young pegasus was actually going write those stories about her thinly-veiled self-insert, and that they'd be bestsellers?”

“I hope you learned your lesson.” replied Sand Stratum. “Never let anypony use your name. Or base a character on you, for that matter!”

“Not like you'd have anything to worry about there,” said Forestay to the engineer, “you're as boring as one of the good Doctor's rocks!”

“I'm an archaeologist, not a geologist.” Caballeron sighed, closing his eyes.

Sometimes he wondered how the truth hadn't been revealed. But then he realized, most readers of Daring Do's trash where simple ruffians like these two. A small nagging feeling told him he was probably going to have to confront Daring Do the moment he stepped hoof in Equestria again... Her absence in the past few months had been outstandingly noticeable.

After he finished dinner, Caballeron stuck around to watch a few chess games between the crew. Miss Pommel still did not show up. When the better part of half an hour had gone by, he began to consider going to check in on her. Only consider, though; Caballeron stayed to watch the chess matches to the end. Once back in his cabin after the excitement was over, he found himself facing the metal box. Going to see Miss Pommel was suddenly a very a good idea. He walked out, locking his cabin, and knocked on her door.

“You missed dinner. There might still be some left if you want any.” Caballeron said.

Pommel opened the door, and peeked out. “Thanks, but I'm not hungry.” she replied.

“Are you alright?”

“I'm worried,” said Pommel, eyes to the floor, “and I think I'm getting sick from all this worrying.”

“Ah... Yes, I've been there too. I think I still am.” Caballeron was about to leave her to her misery, but instead asked: “Would you like some company?” Anything is better than spending time with that accursed Horn, he thought.

Miss Pommel brightened up a little, and got a weak smile. “I would, actually.” She opened her cabin door further, and stepped out of the way to invite him in. Her room was well-maintained, she'd already gotten her personal effects out and arranged. For whatever reason, it always did seem like fashionable mares had more things to carry around than stallions like he. Caballeron didn't have a single mirror to his name. To be fair, it was expected for a designer to always look her best; unlike traveling archaeologists featured as villains in cheap train station novels written by self-righteous egomaniacs!

“What's haunting your mind, Miss Pommel?” asked Caballeron with a yawn, sitting down in the room's one chair. Pommel herself just sat on the edge of her bed.

“It's nothing you don't know already. I just have to meet that client of mine in six days. Otherwise, I lose my chance for the contract in question...” She squirmed about, looking unsure. “I hate the idea that I'm going to miss it, and hurt my credibility, just because I slept in this morning. And because your friend the Captain decided to go chasing after a few more bits.” That last sentence was spoken with more than a tinge of annoyance.

“Again, I apologize about that. If I had known...”

“It's okay, Doctor. You said it yourself, you didn't know.” Pommel paused for a moment, looking out the darkening porthole. “But still... this whole situation is terrible. And I can't get my mind off it.”

“I understand completely.” Caballeron nodded. “That box of mine has been giving my trouble for weeks now.”

“How does a box do that?” asked Pommel, scrunching her brow in bafflement. “It's just a box, right?”

“It's a bit of a story-”

“We're not going anywhere anytime soon, are we?” she interrupted. She wants a story, he realized. Why not? She was no thief, that was for sure.

“Fair enough.” he conceded. “I was somewhere... very far away. There was a big excavation going on, unearthing some ancient ruins. Just normal archaeologist stuff, for me. We found this... temple, let's call it that. And in the temple was the box you saw earlier today at the dock.”

What Caballeron didn't tell her, was that the box wasn't the only thing they found in there. The chamber was not a temple; it was a tomb. And in the tomb, surrounding the box, where the open caskets, sunken into the floor, of horrifying and decayed creatures. They had arms and armor, still pristine, while everything else had mummified or turned to dust long ago. Timar, his “partner” in the venture, had guessed that these were once the guardians of the tomb.

“Now, this box had no locks on it when we found it. We were able to see what was inside.” he said.

“What was it?” Pommel asked, leaning forward. Caballeron looked slyly around, and lowered his voice:

“You can keep a secret, right?” The other pony nodded quickly. “The Horn of the Damned.” he whispered.

“The Horn of the-?” He waved for her silence, shushing her.

“It's a secret! I'll tell you what the Horn is: it appears in the Frithish saga of a certain Vortimer, whose father ventured beyond the Thither Shore, with a hundred of his finest griffon warriors, and came back alone and dying. With him, he carried the Horn, and entrusted it to his son, who then went off to hide it again. The description in the saga matches what we found, exactly.” Pommel raised her hoof like she was in a history class.

“Are you telling me you've been to the Thither Shore?” she asked. Caballeron narrowed his eyes, and tilted his head.

“I am neither confirming nor denying that statement.” Pommel nodded in understanding; he could not legally answer yes so long as he was under Equestrian jurisdiction. As Nutmeg flew the banner of the Crown, he was definitely under jurisdiction. In actuality, Caballeron never had been there. He wasn't lying to Miss Pommel, he was just letting her make her own assumption. A little bit of mystery never hurt one’s reputation. “The griffon saga was called The Doom in the East, only two copies of it are in existence at the moment, and neither of them were in our possession. We only knew of it because we had a summary of it found in a saga of King Clothar, it made the Horn sound like a powerful artifact. However, we couldn't get so much as a single sound out of it; and considering what it is, we were perplexed.”

“Very strange.” commented Miss Pommel, now quite intrigued by his tale.

“Well, mysteries abound in my field. Not long after this, I became a victim of theft; which I mentioned last evening, didn't I? Yes, I believe I did. And the thieves were my own so-called partners! They betrayed me so that they could take the artifact and sell it to the highest bidder elsewhere!” He had been planning to run off with the Horn to do the same; Timar and his rats had just struck first. Miss Pommel didn't need to know little details like that. “Luckily, I escaped them through a series of very fortunate accidents.”

“Really...” Pommel said, ears pricked forward in interest.

“How it happened isn't important, but it was an highly unlikely escape. When I arrived in Saint Garnet, I decided to seek out the griffon High King's loremasters for more information about the artifact. Nutmeg set out for Hleowstede to get a rum shipment-”

“Where?”

“It's the most southerly griffon colony. While they went off, I waited a day to get on my own ship headed up to Frithland, where I could then travel to the High King’s realm. But as I approached to board the new ship, the police and firefighters cleared out the docks; my ship had a fire in her coal bunkers! On the next day, I went to visit another ship to sign on for passage, and do you know what happened to her? A boiler cracked wide open; it'd take weeks to get her fixed up.”

“That explains the two ships that were just sitting in the corner of the harbor.” Miss Pommel noted.

“That it does. Extraordinarily bad luck impeded my next part of the journey, just as extraordinarily good luck helped me start it.” He looked at where the Horn was on the other side of the wall. “There's something more at work here than a mere artifact, Miss Pommel. That's what's got me worried. It's why I didn't sleep well last night, I worried that something was going to happen to Nutmeg. Or still might.” Pommel cringed at the thought, before doing another one of her uncertain smiles.

“I guess I have something else to haunt me now.” she said.

“I'm afraid so.” But that wasn't the full story, of course. Caballeron never told the full story, to anypony. He didn't tell her that he was convinced the Horn was trying to talk to him, and that it was pushing him in a path he could not see the next step of. “I only had good fortune on the Nutmeg earlier, so I hope that'll hold up. We had strong winds a fortnight ago that brought us to Saint Garnet in record time.”

“Maybe I'll try to contact a weather god.” Pommel laughed. “Do you know any?”

“Quite a few, actually. But they are fickle things, it is best to place your faith the Captain and his crew.” Caballeron yawned again, which made Miss Pommel yawn too.

“Looks like it's time to sleep for both of us.” she said. Then she got a sheepish look. “Though, I think my appetite has returned... Do you think the galley has anything left?”

Caballeron sighed inwardly. She really could have said that earlier.

Author's Note

Caballeron's knack for not telling the whole truth may not be the most helpful trait in the future, don't you think? Regardless, we get some more information on that Horn, and the mention of Timar again. Who could he be?