The mud was the worst part.
There had been nothing but hardship since yesterday, when this whole mess began. It had been quite an issue to begin with, dealing with the other ponies in town while they laughed at him behind his back. He did not care if everypony else told him he was hearing things; Serious KNEW they were mocking him. Not a single pony in the small hamlet he'd grown up in had ever believed there was gold in the mountains to the north; they were foal's tales, many would state.
Yet everything Serious had read and studied over the years told him there was SOMETHING up there - the conditions were too ripe for there to be no crop, so to speak. Yet still, they thought it was absurd for Black to sell his family's cottage and try to invest his entire life's savings in a 'pipe dream'; even the Mayor had told him so. He ground his jaw yet again, the old habit slightly comforting and familiar in the wilderness of the mountains.
Perhaps telling the Mayor that he was a jackaninny for not granting Serious the permits he wanted to start gold mining wasn't the brightest of ideas, but that old nag wouldn't know a sure thing if it flew down and bit him on the flank. And yes, flipping over the Mayor's desk and scattering his scrollwork might have been a bit extreme, but the fool hadn't even considered Serious' claim. And so what if he'd bucked the door off its' hinges as he'd left in a huff - he'd been angry, that was all... the Mayor had told him he was a raging idiot, yet Serious KNEW there was value in the rock here - he could taste it.
The air gave off the tiniest, faintest hint of what Serious considered to be 'the scent of money'; it was what his own grandfather would have followed right off a cliff, if that's what it took to get to the bits at the other end. It wasn't so much that the Blacks were known to be greedy... but you'd have an easier time asking a Hydra for a safe ride through the Everfree in it's mouth than you would have asking a Black for a loan. Of course, it hadn't even been mentioned that roughly half of the entire village had been built with supplies HIS family, himself included, had gathered and prepared - and most of that work had been for free... most of it.
Since his exile (because the Mayor didn't take well to his little display), Serious had found himself dealing with every single little irritation that Nature could have cooked up for him. The bugs had been merciless in the muggy summer heat, there had been roots that seemed to pull at his hooves, and the rain had seemed to center on his general area as if it had been tied to his tail. Still, he kept forging ahead, and he was determined that he would get his hooves on a chunk of gold, even the smallest sliver, so that he could go back to town and put it right under the Mayor's muzzle and laugh.
But the mud... it had been sucking at his hooves for miles, had gotten ground into his thick black coat, and had required thorough wiping from his face a few times, thanks to those puckish roots tripping him to the ground. Serious was in no way adverse to hard work - no Black worth their saltlick was lazy - but he did try to keep fastidiously clean... which the mud, in all its' mucky glory, was proving to be the downfall of all his efforts.
He growled uselessly at the wet dirt squelching underhoof with each slow, laborious step. The muscles in his legs burned, but the cool wet gunk under him did absolutely nothing to ease his troubles - in fact, it was almost as if Serious was taking every incidental slight as a personal affront to his existence.
Of course, Serious Black had always been a touch grouchy, even as a young age. He hadn't played with the other colts and fillies that were his peers, he hadn't been very social as he'd gotten to his adolescent years, and now as a young adult, he was more grumbly than ever. He was in full realization that he wasn't very friendly - and it suited him just fine; he had no aspirations to be any sort of social pillar. He didn't need friends anyway; they simply ended up asking for favors and speaking unkindly about you behind your flank.
When the raindrops began to spatter upon his neck again, he swore loudly - yet another habit that did nothing to endear him to the locals. If he was going to make it through yet another night on this sorry mountaintop, he knew he would have to find some form of shelter from the elements; he was already nursing a wet sniffle, and he didn't want to deal with anything worse than such.
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He had made it to the patch of land that he'd used his entire savings to invest in... and knew he'd been taken for a fool.
The shoddy map that had been drawn for him had been sold to Serious with the promise of a beautiful and idyllic spot; this clearing was between two mountain peaks - and looked as though it was nothing more than solid, rocky ground with a few scrub pines and absolutely NO signs of hospitable reprieve. The amount of bits he'd paid for it was phenomenal - and the actual land itself was considerably less than such.
Again, Serious swore, his loud outburst scaring a number of lollygagging birds into taking wing. With a resigned sigh, he untied and dropped his pack; for better or worse, the land belonged to HIM now, and he was determined that he would find SOME sort of use for the place... after all, he was bound and set against the idea of simply giving up; wouldn't be anything left to do but die, if he did. His own father and siblings had all passed, one by one, into the realm of death... and he'd never known his mother; she'd given her own life for his at birth. But this was long ago, and a burden he'd borne for years - it was hardly worth thinking about anymore.
He began to unload the pack, and set up a tent to sleep in while he stayed here - he wasn't welcome back on Mane Street anymore, so this would have to do as his new home... at least for as long as he lived. Serious had never known a Special Somepony... and with his attitude, he was fairly sure that he never would. It didn't bother him so much - when all you had to care for was yourself, you could manage quite well. It did hold the harrowing implications that Serious Black, last of the Black family line, would never be able to carry on the family name, and was therefore the last of his kind.
He tried not to think about that too often, but when he got deep into the cider, the thought would rip away any stability Serious might have had - he'd spent a few nights crying over how bad things were... but those moments had been in private; the townies all operated under the impression that he was incapable of emotions other than hate, since they'd never really seen him emote in such a way. Not like they'd ever been interested in speaking to him anyway... but, since the feeling had been mutual, and had been for a long time, he didn't care. Not anymore.
Regardless, he made himself focus on the here and now, and began to look over the entire area, seeking out good place to start digging - he might as well try, though he seriously doubted he'd turn up with anything worthwhile...
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The emerald vein was thicker than his own barrel.
He'd been here for almost two weeks now, and had managed to put together a regular routine: Wake up, breakfast, pickaxe, lunch break, pickaxe, supper, bathe in the nearby mountain creek, sleep... repeated again and again until Serious could do it by rote. There had been no visitors, no days off, no distractions. And also, no gold. He hadn't actually expected to find anything valuable, though he'd held out for the hope that there would be SOMEthing here...
Of course, precious gems would do in a pinch, he supposed.
The more he struck at the rock face, the more emerald he found; the deposit was ENORMOUS! There was no way of knowing whether or not it was all one solid chunk until he got it all freed from the rock face - but he now had a MUCH better feeling about the property. Why, if this deposit was as big and valuable as he hoped it was, he'd build a home on this very spot! It was secluded, it was peaceful, and it was *ALL HIS*. He was pretty sure the fool who had sold him the property hadn't ever dreamed there would be something like THIS just under a few feet of rock!
Now, he'd have to either head back to Mane Street in the small hamlet he'd left to make the sale, or he'd have to head to the next closest township; it had been the seat of Discord's reign of Chaos, which had only recently been ended by the Alicorn Sisters, Celestia and Luna. Ponies grateful to the duo were beginning to build up a lot of the area around their castle, and Serious knew it wouldn't be too long before it held its' own city name. There would be traders there, he was sure of it.
He set his forehead against the cool, rough ore and sighed, a tear rolling down his muzzle; he'd actually been successful - the pony that no one thought would ever make any good has finally had their ship come in - and that ship was emerald green, just like his father's coat had been. It was a sign; it HAD to be. Now, he was in charge of his own Fate... and he felt secure in his future as a rich-... no, a wealthy pony.
Who would laugh at Serious Black now?
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The pawn shop mare giggled behind a manicured hoof.
"My apologies Mister Black, but 'tis true - emeralds simply do not sell very well. It has been so for decades; the market dried up during Discord's 'Emerald Rain' period, when the lousy things were everywhere... again, I am so very sorry."
Getting over her initial reaction to his proclamation of what he had to sell, she now truly did look sorry to have to pass the news to him. She did genuinely feel bad for him; he seemed so desperate for a win of some sort. And let it never be said that the shrewd pawn broker, Fair Shakes, wasn't a fan of the underdog, as it were. Plus, in his own gruff, brash way, she thought that Serious was cute... seriously cute.
Of course, she had to be somewhat picky in this case - after all, it wouldn't be much longer before her pawn shop would have to go into hock itself; nopony wanted to buy anything - only sell. As a pawn shop makes no bits when bits keep floating out the door in the form of sales, though a few emeralds would bring in a bit of cash - gems always sold, no matter what - but she knew the stallion in front of her was going to be upset. The pittance a few glimmering green rocks paid out wasn't worth much... but she had to make something, and soon.
She sighed, giving him an appraising look before stating, "Well, I suppose 'tis possible I could take a gander... 'twould bring what harm? How far into the mountains is your find, exactly?"
Serious was taken by surprised, but he wasn't about to allow this opportunity to slip through his hooves.
"Well, uhm, er... 'tis north; FAR north - but not too far. Near a quarter-day's journey, to be true."
Serious hadn't ever known anypony who would willingly suffer his company - and he might have never truly taken notice of anypony before, but Fair shakes was just pretty enough to attract his attention. He was internally trying to question himself as to why he was thinking about such a thing now, of all times - but this was a SALE, first and foremost.
"You would... accompany me?"
The mare could see he wasn't expecting any interest in the sale; all the same, he did have a certain... charm... that she found endearing in his pleading eyes... which happened to be the same color as the emeralds he sought to bargain away. And she did have an interest. In the emeralds. Yeah. This deal, she HAD to see through - not that she had any sort of greed; can anypony truly blame another for wanting something just a bit more than they have?
"But of course; thou art a gentlecolt, I assume? I shall be safe on the journey?"
Serious pulled himself to his full height, which was considerable - he had a tendency to slouch, so he didn't seem as imposing. The result of his posture change was impressive - he actually was strikingly handsome when he wasn't slouching, grumbling and holding a sour frown. She now took notice that he had a good bit of muscle... and he had what looked to almost be a negative amount of fat on his sturdy worker's frame. He nodded, trying his very best to appear stoic and able-bodied.
Shakes grinned in that mysterious way mares sometimes have of smiling at somepony, and said, "Then let us be off, shall we?"
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"This is... is..."
Fair Shakes and Serious Black stood side by side, looking up at the large chunk of emerald ore he'd managed to unearth. It was as big as a house; it still had chunks or rock stuck to it, but the rest of it seemed to have a bright green glow in the fading sunlight. It was quite a beautiful sight, to be honest... certainly one of the prettiest things Shakes had ever seen.
She turned to look at Serious, her muzzle in shock. "**ALL* this is yours? Emeralds may not sell, but THIS much would still fetch quite a lot of bits at market - *simply for the purity!"
He looked at her and gave her a sly half-grin. "Yes ma'am - 'tis mine, and mine alone."
"Alone?" She lifted an eyebrow. "Thou hast no family? No parents, nor foals or... a wife?"
Serious caught the hesitation in asking about a wife; did she have an interest in him? He pondered the possibility for a moment - if it was so, he dare not rush into things. If being on the accursed stretch of land had brought him wealth, it would pay for itself... but if it had brought him love...
Now Serious was the one who lifted a brow. "Your interest is merely of a professional nature, or is it more... personal, dare I be so bold to ask?" He had a feeling this would be the right question to ask, and now might be the best time to ask it...
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The wedding had been somewhat barren, as Fair had only a few relatives who would even approve of the exiled stallion, and Serious had nopony but himself. Still, for what it was worth, the ceremony was short and sweet, and they both came from the simple chapel-house with smiles on their faces, now forever united in mare-trimony... and that included the small fortune they had begun to make by ekeing out the emeralds to the non-local traders' caravans, sending them out into Equestria and possibly beyond. That had been Shake's idea, and Serious had truly grown to love her shrewd business mind; it had begun to provide for them more than he'd believed possible.
He had even managed to get enough time and supplies together to construct a small, yet sturdy house near the rocky shelf above the clearing - it was far enough above the area to see not only down into it, but out across the expanse below the mountain range itself. The cabin had been meticulously made, as Serious was determined his life would be played out upon this stage here, amidst the peaks and scrub trees and emeralds...
And in the company of his smart and wonderfully wily wife.
And, eventually, their six children, as well.
Though Serious Black had originally thought himself to have been completely taken for a fool, instead he discovered that this land was exactly what he wanted, after all.
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CHAPTER EPILOGUE
The Canterlot Archives show that Serious Black married Fair Shakes, and fathered four colts and two fillies - all of which ended up staying on the property their father had originally purchased, resulting in an expansion on the cabin and more regular digging activity.
Serious Black passed away at an elderly age, and was the first of the family line to be buried in what is now known as 'Blackwater Ridge', the family cemetery. The small and respectable statue on his grave was sculpted by his youngest daughter, the old-world master sculptress, Chisel Black.
In modern times, the ground Serious broke to find the enormous emerald is now the site of the quarry's very modernized Gem Refinery.
He looked over the wires leading to the detonation box for the umpteeth-dozen time, nervous energy frittering away at details that he was already 110% certain were properly set and ready. Nothing to leave to chance, one might think - but after so many checks, there was no doubt LEFT in him; it was pure physical habit by now.
Actually, more like a facial tic that refuses to quit.
Pitch had used a lot of explosives in his colthood; he had NEVER used this much all at one time. He wasn't afraid, though - not at all. It was more like the opposite was true; he was so excited, he was about to simply EXPLODE with anticipation!
He had checked the wind, made the precise calculations, and completed the circuits as perfectly as his brilliant mind could focus... when it DID focus, that is. Though he had never really known much in the way of anything 'soft', there was no denying that what Pitch Black lacked in physicality, he more than made up for in brains.
Twisted, addled brains... but brains, all the same.
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His grandfather, Serious Black, had been the one to get everything started here, and it had now fallen to him to keep it going. The problem was, there was nothing to keep going WITH; the gigantic emerald that had been originally uncovered by Grandpa Serious had been chipped and whittled away until not a single sliver was left of it.
The resultant emeralds, once cut and shaped, had been of exquisite quality and had gathered a slow, yet steady market for the semi-precious gems. Though there had been many talks of the value of emeralds increasing, Pitch had yet to see it, even once. Luckily, the market was just frozen - not dropping... though it had gotten to losing bigger and bigger chunks of the original ore to make the same profits.
Nothing lasts forever, and the same can be said of giant emeralds; whittled away to nothing, it left the Black family with a bit of a savings... but not enough to last for the rest of their lives. Pitch was the only Black that had stayed here at the family boarding house after the rest had all gotten 'The Wanderlust', and went into Equestria... possibly beyond.
And here was poor Pitch, left to look after the old homestead as it floundered and sunk into debt. Debt that wasn't looking as if it would solve itself anytime soon... and debt that none of the other Blacks would claim responsibility for. It would be up to him to find a way to solve this issue, and hopefully soon.
And a solution was already in his mind.
From an early age, he had always had a fascination with fire, and the things that made fire. Though there were a number of different substances and materials that worked rather well in fire, there was one in particular that had captured Pitch's attention since the earliest days of his colthood:
Black Powder - or rather, the dynamite that contained it.
Pitch's father, Tar Black, had been quite a prospector when he was young, trying to scout the area around the mountain to find anything that was even close to the value of Serious' find; he'd tried for years until he'd simply hung up his gear and became a grumbly old nag who sat around drinking cider and telling stories of how great he had it as a colt. As a result, he had a good bit of quality equipment stored at home - including his stash of prospecting tools, rigging for demolitions, an entire case of dynamite and ragged fuses for each questionable stick.
Pitch found them at the tender age of five.
The first thing he did was blow up a farmhouse.
Okay, NOT on purpose - but that fact didn't seem to matter to the farmer ponies who came charging after him with shovels and pitchforks. He had wanted to test out exactly how powerful these things were, so he'd planned to simply light one and throw it into one of the farm's many haystacks. He figured the hay would take the brunt of the blast; at worst, there would be hay everywhere.
The sheer magnitude of the blast was far, FAR more than he'd expected; the haystack didn't just go all over the place - it was obliterated... along with roughly half of the barn that had been a wee bit too close to the pile of straw. To say the farm owners took it badly was putting it mildly; there had been talk of civil action until the family simply moved away, opting to leave rather than fight the (at the time) rather rich Black family.
Tar hadn't been pleased with Pitch; it had been several months of rock-kicking before the errant colt had been allowed to have a day off... and his siblings had teased him mercilessly. But they were gone, and there was to be no further income from this stretch of land, and Pitch was left here all by himself to tend the land while his siblings roamed Equestria looking for fortune and fame.
He DID miss them; his family didn't actually HATE him - they just had their own lives going on, and they had each sort-of expected him to stay here anyway. Honestly, he had sort-of been expecting to stay, too - he couldn't be mad at them for being right. So, eventually, they all said their goodbyes and went on their merry ways, leaving Pitch all by himself.
**All* by himself.* With a plot of rather useless land. And enough dynamite to blow *everything here to Tartarus*.
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If he started with the west wall, then the vibrations from the falling rock should carry along the mountainside, and collapse both sides of the canyon-like mountain area where the emerald had once stuck up from the ground. It would fall in on itself like a box whose sides had been taken away, and the entire plot of land would be buried under rubble, including the boarding house itself.
Which, incidentally, had been insured by Grandpa Serious a long time ago for a LARGE sum of bits.
Armed with this knowledge (and plenty of dynamite), Pitch set about to lining the western-most wall of the mountainside with sticks of explosive doom, wiring them together for maximum effect. Once finished, he stood back from his work and smiled - this was gonna be an ENORMOUS explosion, and Pitch would be the ONLY one to see it... so he could blame it on a rockslide and claim the insurance, hopefully settling his family's debt and maybe even having a bit or two for himself in the end.
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The handle was calling to his hooves, repeating his name like his mother, calling for him to wake up in the morning.
The explosion will be beautiful, Pitchy; don't you want to SEEEEE iiiiiit?????
He looked back along the mountainside for the twenty-third 'one last time', then could no longer hold back his anticipation - he gave a half-whinny, half-mad-giggle sound that would have made any sane pony think he was insane, and shoved the plunger down into the box with BOTH hooves, grinning like he'd just found his Special Somepony... and her name was *Kaboom***.
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There are a number of things that sometimes simply happen: accidents, mistakes, coincidences, deja vu... they are a common part of life; the unexpected can change your life, if you aren't careful. Sometimes, you manage to get yourself into a world of trouble thanks to a single decision, and Fate laughs cruelly at you as you sit and wonder where it all went wrong.
Then, there are MIRACLES.
When the wall went, it didn't collapse in a line like Pitch planned; it all fell STRAIGHT DOWN, piling up at the front door of the boarding house, yet not even disturbing the rosebushes his sister had planted outside. His plan had failed, and worse? He'd used up ALL his remaining dynamite to arrange this - he'd assumed he wouldn't need to make a second blast!
However, when he looked up at the mountain, his jaw nearly hit the ground.
From one side of the mountain wall to the other were large, warped-looking green stones that seemed to almost thrust into the open air like it had offended them. It was emerald, LOTS of emerald, in several chunks that put Grandpa Serious' find to shame! They jutted out from the wall like jagged, twisted fingers, grasping greedily for the open sky.
At first, Pitch simply stood there, agape at the sight in front of his eyes. Then, he began making his way to the house; he had to send word out to ALL of his family that could be reached by post, and implore those in turn to locate the ones that were out of writing's reach. There was reason to come home now - they wouldn't have to roam Equestria even one more day.
And he wouldn't have to be alone ever again.
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CHAPTER EPILOGUE
The Canterlot Archives show that Pitch Black never married - yet he remained on the Black property, living in the boarding house there through its remodeling, and was known as a strange, but playful and well-intentioned uncle to his siblings' children.
Pitch Black passed away at the latter end of his middle-aged years due to illness, and was interred at 'Blackwater Ridge', the family cemetery. His headstone marker still has scant traces of child drawings, lovingly made, that depict what looks for all intents and purposes like a colt/filly riding on the back of a stallion whose coloration would have matched Pitch's own perfectly.
In modern times, the area where the mountain wall was brought down is now where the rows of storage sheds are found, though The Blackwater Vault, located at the end of the rows, came later.
