Chapters To be privileged enough to not be born into the depths of destitution is a wonderful blessing. Free of pangs of hunger. Exempt from the humility of begging just to get by. And free from an early death. Whether it be from hunger or disease from the unsanitary streets of Equestria. Luckily for Lightning Rod he was free of all these worries.
Born into a privileged household Lightning Rod inherited a multitude of things. His father's blue mane, his mother's white coat, and a cutie mark depicting a Mayor's top hat. Not to mention a large mansion with 10 acres of land, a well-paying job as mayor of Baltimare and a fortune of 500,000 bits. All for one stallion. But how to spend it all?
That day Lightning trotted across Baltimare. First viewing the splendid lights of the finer areas of Baltimare. And smiling at the casinos, muttering his congratulations to the owners of such a fine establishment. Next he studied the streets. Clean, tidy, and bustling with carriages. And he was on his way.
When he reached the industrial district he beamed with pride. The factory workers pumped in and out of the large factory. Some starting their shifts and others leaving for home. It was outside the factory that Lightning stopped one of the workers.
“Good day Sir Mayor.” The worker said stiffly and without a smile.
Lightning smiled, “Yes, good day to you as well sir.” Lightning paused and looked at the worker. He was an earth pony. Thin from malnourishment, and streaks of black soot from the factories lined his muzzle, “Do you enjoy your job sir?” Lightning asked.
The worker stared at him. Confused, “Of course not. You can see me can’t you? Skin tight on my bones. Working 14 hours a day for 14 bits a week. Mayor I’m sure you know where I stand on my job.” The worker finished.
Lightning nodded, “Very well then. Please expect a consequence tomorrow on your behavior.” And with that Lightning bowed and was on his way.
Finally Lightning reached the poorer district. There was nothing to study here. A dilapidated hospital that looked as if it could only fit 15 ponies in it. Houses that looked so fragile that if the wind so much as blew the wrong way everything would crumble. Colts and fillies rummaging through gutters and piles of trash strewn throughout the cracked streets.
The scene disgusted him. A place of wretchedness and inadequacy compared to that of his home. Lightning left at once.
***
When Lightning had returned home it was already dark. When Lightning opened the grand wooden doors into the large entry way his servant greeted him, “Good evening Mister Mayor.” The servant said with a bow.
Lightning did not bow in response, “Evening to you as well.” Lightning said, while using his magic to put his coat on the rack to his left.
“May I get you anything?” The servant asked.
“No I’m quite alright. But I would like to be alone for a while in my office for about an hour.”
“Of course sir.” The servant answered.
And so Lightning left his servant without another word. Lightning scaled the marble steps up to his office, locking the door behind him. The room was a marvelous sight. A polished wooden desk sits in the center of the room. Adorned with a miniature statue of Princess Celestia and Princess Luna standing proudly together. To either side of the desk were two bookshelves filled with books of law.
Lightning sat down at the desk and levitated a quill and ink bottle to himself. Then from a drawer at his desk brought out a piece of parchment and went to work. Ready to give the worker the consequence to his actions.
***
To whom it may concern,
Yesterday it would seem that one of your sheep has stepped out of line. Apparently he is not happy with the state of his working hours or the pay wage of 14 bits a week. A sheep cannot step out of line. Lest the other sheep follow. But. If a sheep is to stray from his master than it must be for good reason. And with every action comes a consequence. So the consequence to this worker’s action is double the weekly pay. As mayor of Baltimare I say that every worker (including the overstallion/overmare.) be granted 28 bits a week. And rather than 14 hours maximum the work day is to be cut to a maximum of 10 hours a day. Hopefully this will alleviate the anger boiling within the workers and myself.
Warmest regards,
Mayor Lightning Rod
Later that day an architect from the poorer district was visited by the mayor on regards of construction on the Mayor’s land.
“How much will this cost me?” Lightning asked as the architect drew the designs with a piece of charcoal.
“Usually 100 bits. But for the mayor…50 bits.” The architect said with a forced smile.
Lightning was taken aback, “What!?” He exclaimed, “A measly 100 bits? No that will be no good. What do you say to…5,000 bits?” The mayor asked with a warm grin.
The architect stayed quiet, unbelieving, “Mr. Mayor. Are you serious?” The architect asked.
The mayor nodded, “Yes I am very serious.” The mayor retorted.
The architect lunged at the Mayor, “Mister Mayor! Nopony has ever given me this many bits in my life!” The architect exclaimed while hugging the mayor in an iron grip.
When the architect released him the Mayor bowed and was on his way back home.
***
Yearly Expenses. On the construction of a hospital for the poor- 50,000 Bits To the betterment of the less fortunate- 20,000 Bits. To the local orphanages- 15,000 Bits To the creation of free soup kitchens- 25,000 Bits To the construction of a new factory, in the hope of increasing employment- 50,000 Bits. To the creation of public schools for both the poor and the wealthy, for grades K-12- 30,000 Bits To the advancement of conditions and recreational activities in prisons- 35,000 Bits. To the poor- 60,000 Bits Personal expenses- 315,000 Bits.
When Lightning asked for his servant to proofread he had this to say, “Sir. Money does not grow on trees. Perhaps devote less money to the poor and more to yourself for personal interests?” The servant asked.
The mayor stomped his hooves happily, “Yes! You’re right! Personal expenses yes!” The mayor shooed his servant away.
Later that day the servant stood at the door. Stoic, prepared for any guests to arrive. To his surprise 15 moving ponies came to the door, bringing with them beds and cabinets full of medicine.
The servant stood there. Mouth agape. As more ponies trickled in. Ponies with maladies, and ponies ready to care for them. All equipped with the finest medical equipment available. When the servant counted 75 ponies he quickly galloped to the mayor’s office and flung the door open.
The servant stood. Shocked. All the furniture had disappeared. Vanished. Nothing remained. The mayor stood in the center of the room where the desk would have been and waved his hoof to his servant.
“May….Mayor! The…The furniture! The ponies downstairs they-”
“Here.” The mayor cut off the servant. As the mayor levitated to him another piece of parchment, “That should answer your questions. Now if you’ll excuse me I must greet our new guests.” The mayor said, and trotted away with dignity.
The servant squinted at the parchment and read.
Personal Expenses To the construction of roads in the poor districts- 75,000 Bits The fitting of my home into a temporary hospital while the new hospital is constructed- 50,000 Bits Medicine- 15,000 Bits In the event that a patient dies, funeral expenses per pony- 25,000 Bits (Subject to change.) For myself- 150,000 Bits.
And that was how Lightning Rod managed his money.
As the reader can obviously see, the city of Baltimare was in good hooves. With the generosity of the Mayor, and his conviction to aiding the poor the city flourished into a great hub of commerce and friendship. The poor lived poorly but contently. Whenever a poor soul needed comforting or a plate of food the Mayor would kindly oblige.
But while the ponies of Baltimare lived comfortable lives this was not the case in other towns or cities. Corrupt officials ruined other settlements. Favoring the rich over the poor. Their lavish lifestyle over the impoverished ponies living under them. All was not well anywhere in Equestria.
Months after the Mayor’s initial construction on the hospitals a blight of the feather flu broke out across Equestria. Everywhere the flu went thousands of lives were claimed. Death was fierce and absolute. But as if by providence the pandemic passed over Baltimare. It would seem that the purity of the Mayor held a shield over the city.
And in the midst of this pandemic the Mayor insisted on going to visit a nearby rural town that had been struck hard by the disease.
As the Mayor was situating his coat onto himself his servant came galloping to his side, “Mr Mayor! You must not go!”
“And why not?” The mayor asked as he just opened the door.
“Those people are not sanitary! The disease is still eating at them!” The servant exclaimed with a stamping of his hooves.
The mayor merely laughed, as if what the servant had to say did not concern him, “My friend. Look around you.” The Mayor said pointing to a certain hallway where coughing could be heard, “What do you see?” The Mayor asked.
The Servant shrugged, “Sick people? As equally unsanitary as those wretch’s you plan to visit.” The servant said with a shudder.
The Mayor frowned, “It’s all about perspective friend. If I were some rich snob yes I would say the same thing. But I am no snob. I am a rich, naïve, stallion. What I see are lucky people.” The Mayor pauses, waiting for the Servant to process this information.
“How so?” The Servant retorts. Making sure his bow tie is in proper order.
“The rural town’s people have nothing. No bed, no food, most have lost loved ones due to this sickness. But these ponies. The ones living under our roof are being given shelter, food, and care. All things that the rural ponies lack.” The Mayor finished with a smile.
“But the brigands! They would eat you alive!” The Servant exclaimed with newly found fervor.
“Well if they lack food I do have bread that I am more than honored to give.” The mayor said, bringing out a bag full of bread from his coat.
***
When Lightning had traversed through the muddy roads he came across the village. It was a pitiful encampment. The houses though modest in size were made of dirt and grass. Barely kept together by mud and knots of more grass with straw.
As the Mayor trotted through the pathway, his horn casted a faint blue light across the houses, making himself a beacon of light throughout the town. Eventually Lightning came across the largest dirt house he could find. On top of the doorway was a knot of straw, twisted into a large S.
When Lightning was preparing to knock he realized there was no door to be knocked on. Just an open cavity leading into the home, “Hello?” Lightning called.
The Mayor waited a bit, “Yes! Yes! I’m here!” A voice exclaimed from inside the hut. After a second an earth pony was at the threshold of the home. Lightning observed the pony. Gaunt, tan skin stretched tightly across thin bones. Typical of a rural country vagrant. But this pony still had a hint of kindness in his green eyes. When the pony noticed the Mayor’s wandering eyes he cleared his throat, “Is there something you need?” He asked. Annoyed by Lightning’s late visit.
“Yes. I come from Baltimare. I’ve come in search of lodging. In your humble town.” The Mayor said kindly.
The pony stepped out of his way, “Then welcome. This door…or lack thereof is never closed to those in need.”
The Mayor nodded, and entered the pony’s home. The interior was much like the exterior. Dirt and more dirt. In the middle of the room sat a chair made of rough, splintered wood accompanied by two chairs.
“Have a seat.” The pony said.
Lightning obeyed, taking his seat in the most uncomfortable chair. The other pony joined him, and placed an unlit candle in the middle of the table, “What is that for?” The Mayor questioned.
The pony shrugged, “Most valuable thing I have.” He responded.
“May I?” The Mayor asked, pointing at his horn then to the candle. The other pony nodded. With a quick flick of his horn the candle was lit, “Thank you. It was rather dark in here.” The Mayor said with a grin.
The pony nodded, and sighed, “I would offer you something. But I have nothing to offer.” The pony said.
“But you have. Your home. Your hospitality. More than enough for me.” The Mayor smiled, remembering something, “And yet I have offered you nothing.” In a second Lightning was holding two pieces of sourdough bread, “Care for some?” He asked.
“Of course! You see my lack of stomach. Give it here!” The pony exclaimed.
Lightning brought out the whole bag, using his levitation magic to give the pony two loaves. When his host had the loaves in front of him he immediately wolfed the first one down. Soon after he gobbled the second one, until only crumbs remained.
“Sir you come from Celestia above! Who are you?” The pony asked with a burp.
The Mayor laughed, “I am Lightning Rod, Mayor of Baltimare. I’ve heard of your towns losses. And I’ve come to give alms. It is the least I can do.” Lightning explained.
The pony frowned. His green eyes drooping along with his spirit, “Thank you for coming. We’ve lost many.” He said motioning behind him, where three beds lay. Vacant, “My wife and daughter were killed by the flu. For some reason I was lucky.” The pony muttered.
The Mayor was at a loss for words. The thought of losing two loved ones was daunting. Especially by unnatural causes, “No words I say can ever heal your wounds. But I can heal your hunger.” Neither said a word. Until they both retired to the beds. Though, the mattress was made of firm wood the Mayor was content. But only one question nagged at him,
“What’s your name?” Lightning blurted.
As the pony got himself into the most comfortable position possible, “I assume you saw the S outside?”
Lightning nodded, “Yes but I didn’t understand it.” The Mayor said.
The pony laughed and pointed to his flank, where the image of a cent was depicted, “Stinkin’ Rich. Ironic isn’t it?”
***
When Stinkin’ Rich awoke the next morning he was greeted by two more loaves of bread on his table and a small sack. First he ate one loaf, deciding to save the last one for dinner. When he was finished he opened the sack. The contents of the bag consisted of, 25 more loaves of bread, a note and another sack.
Hello friend. I realize how hungry you may be. But if you’d please distribute the loaves evenly amongst your people. I assure you there’s enough for all. I counted the houses before leaving, there should be plenty. Anyways. The little sack you may also have found is filled with seeds of wheat. I will try and visit at least once every two weeks. Also I left a box of matches. Keep that candle lit.
After Stinkin’ looked at the paper it was wet. He had wept. Soon after he galloped out of his home. The bag of bread flying alongside him in the wind.
It was late that evening. Above the clouds released their contents. Drenching the city in cold water. Most ponies closed their doors, so as not to be made wet. The streets were empty. No pony was out. Except for one. He wore a long, tattered cloak and a cap that covered his blonde mane and his red skin.
He trotted half-heartedly around the city. He trotted with a strange gait. Dragging his left back hoof along with him as if it were made of lead. Eventually he came upon a small inn, whose door was wide open. When the red pony entered he saw a dark blue earth pony tending to his hearth.
The Stranger knocked his hoof against the wall so as to get the blue pony’s attention, “Do you have any rooms to spare?” The Stranger asked.
When the proprietor of the establishment turned from his work he looked at the red stallion. Strong, lean, but he had the look of some pony who had been beaten into submission for years, “If you can pay.” The owner said scornfully.
With haste the Stranger scrambled through his tattered cloak and pulled out a tiny, beaten, leather coin purse, “Ah’ have more than enough. 105 bits all in this pouch.” The drifter announced in a southern drawl.
The owner grinned at the prospect of a customer, “In that case welcome. 15 bits for a night with complimentary food.” The blue pony said, pointing to the burning hearth where a stew was bubbling.
The red stallion heaved a sigh of relief and sat at the hearth, warming his wet hooves. But as the Stranger was warming himself the owner was scribbling a note and whistled. When the Stranger turned a young, pink filly came by, fetched the note and scurried outside.
“How long until we eat?” The Stranger asked, licking his lips.
“Soon. Don’t worry.” The owner grunted.
A few minutes later the filly returned with another note and gave it to the owner, “You’ll have to leave sir.” The owner said, after reading the note.
Quickly the Stranger bounced up to his hooves and turned to the owner, “Why? Ya’ll think I don’t have the money!?” The Stranger exclaimed, opening his purse where the bits lay.
The owner frowned, “It’s not that. I…haven’t enough rooms.” He shrugged.
“Ah’ll sleep in the hayloft!” The Stranger begged.
“My cattle sleeps there.” The owner said.
“Ah couldn’t care less! Please Ah’ll pay ya double!” The Stranger yelled, shaking his coin purse in front of the owner.
The owner sighed, “I wish to treat all possible customers kindly. So please, clear out.” The holder said, pointing to the door.”
The Stranger folded his muscular front arms and sat at the hearth in protest, “Ah’m tired. Ah’ve trotted 25 miles. I would appreciate a place to-”
The owner stomped his hooves in anger, cutting off the Stranger, “You know why I won’t have you here?” The proprietor exclaimed, “You’re Big Macintosh, a thief, and a dangerous stallion, I refuse to have such filth in my establishment!” The owner exclaimed, reaching towards something.
The Stranger did not move, “Ah ain’t moving.” Big Mac muttered defiantly.
It wasn’t until the Vagrant felt something cold behind his head did he move, “Get out.” The owner muttered through gritted teeth, a crossbow in his hooves. Held at Big Mac’s head.
The Stranger backed towards the door, the owner’s crossbow following him. When he was finally driven outside in the cold, rain once again did he speak, “Please sir. A…glass of water?” The defeated stallion muttered weakly.
“An arrow is what you’ll get!” The owner growled, slamming the wooden door on Big Mac’s face.
***
He lay there for a while. Unable to sleep. Instead he decided to count the droplets of rain, one by one as they plummeted to the ground, “May I sit?” An old, hoarse voice called behind him. When Big Mac turned he saw an old white stallion wearing a thick coat and a top hat. Big Mac scooched away giving the pony room, “Thank you.” The white stallion muttered.
“Why is a pony like yourself outside?” Big Mac questioned.
The old pony pointed to a large mansion, “I live there. I was eating dinner when my servant noticed you through the window.” The white pony explained. Big Mac snorted and turned on his side, “I could offer you a room. It’s much too cold out here for you. There’s still food if you want some.” The pony explained, getting onto his old, crooked hooves and hobbling his way to his home. Big Mac didn’t move, “Don’t worry. If you have a change of heart the Mayor’s doors are never locked.” The Mayor informed Big Mac.
***
It was while they were chatting that a loud knock came from the door, “Come in!” The Mayor exclaimed, “Please come to the dining room! There’s plenty of food!” The Mayor called with a cough.
In a moment Big Mac was sitting with them not saying a word, “Something is missing.” The Mayor muttered pointing to their wooden plates. It was customary that when a guest was present that the silverware be laid out but the Servant had yet to fetch them, “Friend would you please lay out the silverware for our guest?” The Mayor asked. But it was more of a command.
“Thank you Sir. Ah’ thought for sure Ah’ was gonna be sleeping in the rain.” Big Mac said with a forced smile.
“It is my pleasure. Any pony in need is welcome here.”
“Everywhere Ah’ went Ah’ was turned away! Ah’ had the money! Right here!” Big Mac said showing him the coin purse, “105 bits in all! Ah’ made it all honestly, serving my time in the Canterlot dungeons! Just because of my past and my name.” Big Mac frowned.
The Servant returned and replaced every pony’s wooden bowl with one of silver, “Well I personally love your name.”
Big Mac looked at him quizzically. He did not recall telling him his name, “But Ah’ never told you my name.” Big Mac stated.
“No need to. I already know it. Your name is Brother.” The Mayor told him with a smile as he began to eat his cheese.
“Ah’…Thank you, when Ah’ came here I loathed every pony! But now Ah’ can’t tell what I feel.” Big Mac said as he bit into his bread.
They all ate in silence. The Servant eyeing the guest cautiously. But he dared not question the Mayor’s decision. When they finished the Mayor left for his bed while the Servant showed Big Mac to his room. Big Macintosh gave his thanks and the Servant left. All the house was quiet.
