Coffee and Gunpowder

In the hallway and between two paintings of his master, Kaff stared at the letter in his hands with scrunched eyes, looking back and forth between it and the door in front of him in turmoil. He turned and placed his back against the wall, clasping both hands on his face. A passing maid glanced at him as she went on her way to the another part of the estate. With a final sigh, he knocked, but the answer came far faster than he would have liked. He should have waited for his heartbeat to slow.

“Master Westswell.” Entering the office, he was accustomed enough to no longer be awed by the various honors and trophies adorning the walls. “Please, do pardon my unprofessionalism, but I require your assistance.”

The man Westswell looked up from his ink and parchment. “Of course, whatever is it that you need of me, my esteemed servant?”

“It’s… rather complicated, sir.” Kaff produced an opened letter from his back, and gently placed it on the sandalwood table, gulping as he did so. “I’ve an issue with my… familial heritage.”

A pause of dead silence filled the room as Westswell went still.

“Let me see, dear Kaffee,” West rhymed as he began reading the piece of paper, noting the sender was from another country.

Dearest grandson,

Following the end of our recent war, of which nearly two hundred thousand of our fellow countrymen had lost their lives, it has come to my attention that you did not participate. If I may remind you, our family had served the nation since Duke Albert Frederick, when Prussia was but a mere duchy.

My request is that you participate in the national military of any friendly nation as an official enlistee. If you fail to do so, I am afraid that you may no longer bare our family name or receive a single thaler from your inheritance.

Thus far, you have brought great shame onto our family. Living with and serving a redcoat does nothing to persevere my opinion of you. For heaven’s sake, I had to write this letter in English so that it doesn’t get burned. Do not fail this for me, Leicht Willus ‘Kaffee’ Wilhelm.

-Kapitän der Ersten Dragoner

“Rather saddening to hear that your grandfather is disappointed in you. You’re certainly a pleasant fellow to be around with,” West said, scrutinizing the piece of paper. The elegant penmanship overshadowed by a few drops of dried blood. He came to terms that there may had been more than one courier.

Kaffee stood at attention. “Thank you, Sir Westswell.”

“I can see that you are troubled by this, though I wonder why you need me to have a part in this.” He put a hand on his chin in thought. “To think of it, you’re rather stiff, not the usually cheerful valet I’ve come to know.”

Kaff willed himself to spit out the words clogged in his throat, “I came here for your input on the matter, sir. I am at a crossroad. My mind is set in being your valet. Yet, I regret deviating from family traditions.” Kaff put both hands on the table. “I do not know what to do, sir. I was born to be the servant of a gentleman, not the servant of a king’s army.”

West kept the hand under his chin, and peered into his valet’s amber eyes. “Follow me, friend.”

Through long hallways and extensively decorated rooms, Kaff followed Westswell. His eyes casually viewed the giant windows that let light befall on the numerous paintings inside the room, until West halted.

“Tell me, Kaffee. What do you see?” West said, gesturing to one of the paintings.

“One of your great grandmothers, sir. She’s sitting by the fireplace and reading a book while her husband reads one of his own.”

He faced another painting. “What about this one?”

“Your cousin from grandfather’s side, sir, aiming his crossbow at a fowl in the sky.”

“And this one?” Another painting.

“A niece you particularly favored, drawing a picture of her own while the artist painted the scene.” This went back and forth a few times, until Kaff questioned, “Where are you going with this, sir?”

“What are they doing, dear Kaffee?”

He glanced back at the pictures, answering, “They are each doing each of their hobbies, sir?”

“Swell! Now, what do they have in common?”

Kaffee needn’t to think for a response. “All of them are related by blood?”

“Good eye!” He patted Kaff’s shoulder. “How would you conclude what I've mentioned thus far? Tell me what you have come up with.” West waited, a minute then became two, quickly turning to five. “Come now, it is most literally in front of you.”

“I… uh…” Kaff paced forward and back, even stopping to tap his foot at times, but nothing came. “I do not know, sir.”

West shook his head. “Kaff, you are a clever one, cunning I dare say. But as your friend and employer, I’ve come to the fact that you have your own faults.”

Kaff blinked. “May I ask what that fault is, sir?”

West began to lead Kaff once again. Each step he took clicked through the hallway, still audible through the taps of droplets raining down through the storm’s flow outside, and breaking at the decorative window panes.

“You are indecisive, and let small things cloud your judgement.” West faced the door of his office, entering the room. “Though you are smart, loyal, and understanding, at times you crucially need someone to guide you, to reassure you of your own choices; particularly when you’re under pressure.”

From the storm clouds that loomed over the estate, the room began to feel darker. “I... am sorry to disappoint, Master Westswell.” Was he truly that weak? He never felt that he was so dependent on someone else.

“There’s no need for apologies, friend. We each have our flaws.” West once again patted Kaff’s shoulder, before sitting back down his chair. “If your mind is still thinking on that conclusion, it was diversity. We all have our best talents and worst inabilities, but we are connected. Family should be there to help you stand by your weaknesses.”

“You are saying that I should do as my grandfather told, sir?”

“Not in particular. I’m merely suggesting that family would be of help to you. However, some families are like the royal court; you cannot say for certain where their loyalty lies.”

“Sir, if I chose to do grandfather’s wishes, will you be happy in letting me go?”

“I’d be delighted with whatever you chose. Life grants us a path, but we can still make our own. You can walk wherever you please, Kaffee.”

“Then, sir.” He placed another letter onto the table. “I give you my resignation. It has truly been an honor to serve you and your house.”

West answered by giving a smile. “And I thank you for the years you’ve put into making my family happy. Now, make yours the same.” It was now time for West to pull his own letter out of the table’s drawer. “As a gift for all the pleasures you’ve granted me, let me give you ease for your future.”

Kaff could see that the letter was marked with a seal and signed by a captain. An officer of the British Army, he guessed. He took it, though not without hesitation.

As the meeting drew to a close, Kaff said his final goodbyes, before leaving with a smile and a letter of recommendation to accompany him.

West stared at the door, and sighed. “Oh, Kaff. Perhaps this is why you are a successful valet. No master ever worried your betrayal. For you cannot do so even if you wish.” He continued his focus to his parchment.

“...found him!?” a voice said, its baritone having the masculinity of a man after drinking a concoction of snake poison, raw eggs, and nails mixed together. “What’s your plan with him, young missy?”

Kaff kept both eyes closed.

“He needs our help! Just look at him, he’s plumb tuckered out on the bed like a newborn foal,” the woman Kaff met earlier said.

“So, what do you want me to do about it?” the manly voice asked, not nearly having the accent the lady had.

“Stop sitting on your flank, and get the pony a jacket. Yours are thicker than that there bed he’s sleeping on.” Quite nice of them to care for Kaff’s well being. He wasn’t sure why, though. After all, he only made the rescuing harder by flailing his arms like Master West’s mace collection. However, it’d be fine if they stopped with the equine analogies.

“Fine, fine.” Footsteps began to echo around the room.

Kaff stretched both arms up, finding them rather stiff, and so he moaned internally. His eyes mustered the energy to open, assisted by both hands that cleared dust particles off of them.

“Oh, thank Celestia. You’re awake!” Kaff peeked to the source of the voice, meeting once again with the horse from before. The mare still had the reddish-orange fur. Her gray and sand colored mane gave him the impression of the lakeshore he landed on, while her purple pupils peered politely into him. A smile found its place on her face. “Feeling any better, Mister…?”

Oh that was right, he was in Hell, for whatever reason. Perhaps it was time to go night, night again.

“No, no, no! Please don’t faint again. We don’t have much in the medicine cabinet!”

It felt dizzy for him to think, but he asked, “When will I meet the Devil?”

“Uh… oh! The gate pony said that you can head on over to the Canterlot Administration Center once you’re feeling better. Something about documents and stuff.”

He took a few seconds to digest what the mare said, but he caught the point. “Camelot Administration Office?”

“No, Mister, Canterlot. You were drowning for an awful long time. You’re lucky I was visiting a friend in Ponyvile, but… sorry that it took me awhile to realize there was a pony under that there stream of bubbles.” The horse—no, pony pawned again at the ground, having the look of regret.

Once more, Kaff took a moment take in the information. Perhaps he had also gotten a concussion, since his head could not handle the tsunami of words coming from the pony’s mouth. His brain thumped against his skull, and he couldn’t even distinguish between the beats of his head or the ones in his chest.

“Ugh… do you perhaps have any medicine I could procure?” This would all be easier if he could think straight. But unluckily for him, he couldn’t think straight. Though, his hand was there to support the throbbing head. Or at least, what semblance of a hand attached to his arms did.

“I’ll look for some painkillers…” the mare said, leaving the room with hurry.

Kaff turned to the pillow under his head, then at the blanket on his person. How bizarre. A pony taking care of a man. The turns have tabled it seemed. Wait, no… that was not the term. He shook his head.

Kaff rose from the bed, taking in the surroundings. Not much by the looks of it. A simple bed with white covers, a rustic end table, and some sort of lantern on the ceiling. He had never saw lanterns that compact and bright. Slowly, he sat back down and pressed his back against the wall to stare at the light. And again, something abnormal was present.

The wall felt weird. Never had he met bricks that smooth. And who would put two… stubs just beside the bed? It would be awfully inconvenient for the placement. And why did the stubs have feathers anyways?

The door swung open, revealing a large pony barging in with the amount of force only a bull could achieve, resulting in a sound louder than that same bull during mating season when the door hit its hinge. “Alright, son. What’s your deal?” A folded piece of clothing hit Kaff’s chest, forcing him a huff from the brunt of the impact.

Kaff looked up to the stallion, giving him an eye. “Pardon?” The clothing weighted rather light, feeling rather thin. It could be that the stallion had hearing issues, since even Kaff managed to eavesdrop without trouble, or he was simply uncaring to Kaff’s health.

“Your kind of ponies always manage to bring trouble whenever near my family. Whatever it is you’re up to, spill it.”

“Good sir, I do not lie to anyone I hadn’t known. My hope is to retain honor amongst common, clean-handed folks.”

With one swift motion, the stallion put Kaff in between walls and his two hooves. “Listen here, colt. You high class ponies can go and put your stick-filled plots somewhere else. We’ve struggled through enough of your manure to care about petty police matters.”

“Wheeze I can assure you, righteous sir, I have none whatsoever to be willed against you.” The stallion mentioned ‘police’. He had heard something like that in Paris. Was he in France? Or at least one of their colonies? He didn’t know that the French had talking ponies.

If ever so minuscule, the pressure on his shoulders subsided. “Watch what you do.” With a puff of wind from the stallion’s nose, he let go. It smelled rather fresh for a horse.

Again, Kaff was left to his devices with an ajar door to his inventory. He placed a hand in front of him, and blew a small breeze. A wince escaped him. Now he felt duplicity from his judgement, followed by sadness, knowing that a pony had better hygiene than him. Still, he looked at his hand, hoping for something to falsify his nostrils.

He looked down. There it was again, a black stub in place of his fingers. He felt the need for a scream, but suppressed it. The only thing he showed was a quizzical look. One that you give when reading an illiterate doctor’s note.

Hell was a whore.

The door creaked, and a head poked through. “Listen, Mister Stranger. I’m awful sorry for the way my Pa acted. We’ve been having a few ahem heated conversations with some upper class ponies.” She fully entered the room, sitting next to Kaff on the bed.

“My apologies. I will be ou—“ he paused. Where was he? He didn’t have any sort of valuables. Was he even mentally sane? There were a few things he learned in the army. One if which is knowing when to swallow pride. There was no telling if there was anyone compassionate enough to take him in. “I… may I stay here for… some time? Until I find my bearings?”

The mare smiled, reminding him of when he parted with West. She gave Kaff a bottle of pills, which he just looked at in puzzlement, before taking it. He should just hold onto this… thing, whatever it was. “Of course, Partner. You can take your own sweet time.”

The smile was contagious, it crept up Kaff’s own lips, bringing about an awkward silence between the two. “If I may ask, where are we currently located?”

“Yeesh, must’ve had a concussion too, didn’t ya? Equestria. Ever heard of it before?”

No, it was not France. The name didn’t have the touch of elegance that French had. The Americas perhaps? It would be sound, considering his place of passing. The name did seem like something out of the English dictionary, and Britain did have territories in deeper parts of the Americas. Plus, ‘Equestria’ was practically ‘Equine Land’ simplified.

“I don’t believe so, and I’ve memorized every county documented in the atlas by heart. However, settlements I know only a small percentage of. Would you be glad to educate me in the matter?”

She placed a hoof on her forehead, somehow bending it to massage her skull. With all reason, that motion should be impossible. Though, he wasn’t even one to question her ability of speech, so priorities were a bit of a hassle at the moment. “Mister, can you be blunt with the questions?”

“What town are we in?” Simple as a Consommé.

“I already told you. We’re in Canterlot.” Kaff was about to put in another question, before she placed a hoof in front of his mouth. “Before we go on, I really need to ask some questions.”

“By all means, feel free to ask.”

“How come you were suffocating in Canterlot Lake? You’re one of them pegasi. You should be falling from skies, not drowning in lakes!”

“Well, falling from skies aren’t in any way better tha— what did you just say?”

“Mister, do I really need to slow down my talking? You were the one spouting about atlases and stuff just a second ago!”

“Wait, wait, wait. I’m a what!?” In a moment of realization, it finally dawned on him. The stubs, the wall feathers, the equines surrounding him, it was all in front of him. “The Devil is a swine,” he whispered under his breath.

He placed motion into his back, and there it was, two feathery wings moving in sync with one another. He was a horse with wings; a pegasus, if he recalled correctly. The feel of two more appendages felt… wrong. Yet, it was like he had been missing wings for his entire life. It was always supposed to be there, wasn’t it?

This place was most definitely not in human knowledge. He could not believe what had transpired to him. In turn, these ‘ponies’ would most likely not put faith upon his words if he proclaimed the truth. It would be like spouting ‘the King of Great Britain is a reptile’ all over Europe.

“I’m still waiting for that explanation.”

At the very least, he still kept his sundry skills. One of which was deception. “A misfortune occured when I was swimming.” He rubbed his arm with the other, looking at the wooden flooring. “Something impacted my head with great velocity, and so I fell deep into the lake. After the event transpired, I could not recall much of my memory.”

“You’re saying that you had amnesia? Why would you pick Canterlot Lake to dip your hooves into, anyways?”

“It was a matter of filth; I’d have had rathered swim in a swamp than be as dirt ridden as I was. Still, I’m merely saying that the impact caused loss of some basic knowledge.”

“So, you had amnesia?”

“I do not know the definition of that word.”

The mare rolled her eyes, and glanced at the nearest clock. “Gasp We’ve gotta go downstairs! Pa’s gonna be madder than a wet hen if we don’t show for supper!”

“‘We’, Ms…?”

“Questions at the dinner table! Come on!” Without thought, she pulled Kaff out of the bed and out the door, galloping on three legs while Kaff hopped on one. He dropped the bottle of strange looking stones the mare gave by accident.

“Wait!” Kaff held on to the mare tight with his hoof. “I don’t have—“ He managed to hop his way out of the room, though the two jumps from the door were his literal downfall.

The mare stopped with a skid against the floor, still not letting go any bit of grip. Her gaze went to the disheveled mess of pegasus lying on the floor. At first, she raised both ears up at attention, and later forming a gasp when she trailed to Kaff’s left leg.

“Oh Heavens to Betsy, I’m so sorry! I—I didn’t notice!” She wasted no time in getting Kaff on his three hooves. “Lemme help you down the stairs.”

“It’s fine.” One at a time, Kaff tried to place a hoof in front of the other, but after a few steps he already found himself on the floor, again. “I am not used to walking on all threes. Perhaps you could assist me in finding a walking stick.”

The mare’s eyes shifted to a door next to her. “I think we’ll have to improvise.” With a click, the door opened, revealing a broom closet. She got herself a broom, and cut off the fibers with a knife, handing him the stick right after.

Kaff took the makeshift crutch, finding the act both sweet and unsanitary. Not because it was a dirtied broom, but rather because she had used the knife with her mouth, same like the door knob. Also, why was there a knife in the broom closet?

Kaff fiddled with the crutch, looking at it from all angles. He noted that his hooves could be used as substitute fingers while holding onto the item. “How do I use this… thing? It is far taller than the canes I’ve come accustomed to.”

“Just stick it in your armpits, and point that there end to the floor.” The mare pointed a hoof at the handle.

“My axilla?” He looked at his armpit, recognizing the black fur covering his attireles body was natural; thank heavens for that. With a bit of a tickle, he placed the crutch as how the mare said. “Am I using it correctly?”

The mare looked him over. “You got it!” She gently held his hoof and shoulder. “We should go now, Pa’s probably already fuming. Try to hide that there crutch from him, he won’t like losing brooms to strangers.”

Kaff rolled his eyes when the mare wasn’t looking. Some things remained the same in Hell as it did on Earth. Greed shall always be everywhere.

After a bit of a scuffle, they started descending. The floorboards, as well as the broom, creaked under the stress. Once the first few steps were conquered, the stairs were nothing less of a thought to handle, though care was still present in each movement.

As they reached the ground floor, tables and chairs started to come into view. The chairs were all set on the table and red checker-patterned tablecloth were folded and placed neatly on a display case filled with empty plates.

“Care to sit down?” One of the tables wasn’t prepared for the night. Instead, it was occupied by a stallion with a plum colored fur that complimented him with the room’s colors. The white and slate mane atop his head emphasized his already masculine body structure, and the stallion’s lime colored eyes pierced into his soul, almost meeting sight with Kaff’s great grandfather. “Enjoying your stay?”

“Y—yes, sir. I thank you for the hospitality,” Kaff stammered. He had experience dealing with military officers with vengeance against his masters, but this stallion held a stare that could turn Medusa to stone. “I will try my best to steer clear off of unwanted deeds.”

The mare helped Kaff with his seat, before trotting to her own beside ‘Pa’ or ‘father’ in French.

“Good, we wouldn’t want to disappoint, now would we?” He turned to his the mare, presumably his daughter. “Had fun chatting up with the stranger?”

“He ain’t a stranger no more, Pa.”

“What’s his name?” The simplest of questions sometimes had the most effect.

Her eyes immediately darted to Kaff. “He… he’s…” To give credit to this mare, Kaff didn’t know hers either. She gave Kaff a look that screamed ‘help me’ in response.

“—Kaffee. Just... Kaffee, sir.”

“And where in good Equestria are you from?”

He put in some thought before answering. “I don’t believe that my place of origin is nearby.” The stallion raised an eyebrow, and Kaff replied, “Prussia, though I do not know what direction that is located from this specific point.”

“Never heard of that damned place.” He pointed a hoof at Kaff. ”Lying won’t get you anywhere with me, colt.”

“Ooh! I think he meant that Germaneigh place somewhere in west yonder!”

“You don’t sound Germane, you’ve the tone of voice of a high society Trottinghan.” A smile was contagious, but this stallion’s intimidation brought plagues of fear. The stallion stood at his full height, blocking the lamp on the ceiling and drowning Kaff once again in shadows. “So, let me repeat what was already crystal. Do. Not. Lie.”

Ding, a bell sounded from the kitchen.The mare stood, wanting to serve dinner, but was stopped by her father’s hoof. “I’ll get dinner.” He gave Kaff another look. “You better come up with a believable story once I come back.”