The only thing that sounded through the room were the loud, and clearly angered hoof steps of the stallion leaving the room.

The mare looked down on the table, the other side only holding one participant and an empty seat. “I’m mighty sorry for how Pa’s been acting. I can’t lie to you, Stranger. That stallion has full spite for high society ponies.”

“It’s quite fine, Ms…?”

“Jati Cloves. You can just use ‘Jace’ if you’d like. But, try to keep off of the Missus thing, if you could.”

Kaff nodded. “Does that name mean ‘teak’ in any way, Jace?”

Jace looked him in the eyes, blinking a few times. “How’d you know? The name’s more remote than a bag of bananas floating in the Lunar Sea.”

“I’ve traveled.” He remembered the years when he essentially got stranded in the Spice Islands. It was not something he desired, but it gave memories that he’ll likely tell his children with great joy. “It was rather nice, actually. That is if you discount the colonial unrest.”

“Actually, I never set hoof on any Bat-Avian lands. Those griffins and minotaurs keep a tight leash around the ‘land where gold grows on trees’ with them sail ships.” Jace gave a quotation with both hooves to stress her point, before she sighed. “Never got to see ma’s parents because of it.”

Perhaps Hell liked to make silly names for their Earth counterparts, because was sure it was called Batavia back home. Though, he couldn’t help but feel cheered at how adorable some of the names thus far had sounded.

“Perhaps you might. Age doesn’t seem to be a problem as of yet, and political power is bound to changing hands.”

“I like your thinking, stranger er- I mean Mister Coffee.”

He chuckled. “It’s Kaffee, and thank you for the thought.” He looked back at the door behind him. The stallion took his time. Kaff didn’t know what poison awaited him inside the dish, if he was even to receive one.

He tried to search for something in Jace’s eyes—a sign of deception, or anything of the sort. Though, he found naught, but the same stare back at him, added with a sheepish smile. Without knowing, he tapped his foot on the ground in a rhythmic beat, waiting for that stallion to come barging out the door.

Perhaps he shouldn’t be harsh on Jace. All she had done for him were nothing short of sincere, human sympathy. Jace reminded him of the many children his masters had. The same kind of innocence was present, he could feel it. But yet, he believed the need to take precautions. Perhaps the nobility’s world had done a toll on his way of thinking.

Thump, three bowls of soup met with the table, shaking him out of his thoughts.

“Nothing special for today,” That stallion could gallop through Chinese pottery, and let butter-cutting sound louder. “since nothing special happened.”

Kaff stared into the bowl. As the stallion said, it was uninteresting. Just a splotch of brown, gooey liquid with nothing but a spoon inside of it. Kaff could do better with a cup of water and a pinch of salt.

“Dang it, Pa. Why can’t you just be nice to Mister Kaffee?” A fierce glare was fixed on her face, causing the two to throw looks at each other; tightened lips were coupled with teeth grinding. “This is why those ponies keep stirring us up. If you can’t be nice, why should they?”

The stallion’s brow furrowed. “It doesn’t work like that in the real world, sweetheart.” He began cleaning his spoon with a napkin. “Helping others will do nothing more than put weight in our work and lighten our supplies. Helping others make ponies think of us as naive, easy to manipulate and take advantage of. Helping others does nothing to help us survive! You promising him shelter was a perfect example of it.

“Now, eat your meal so we can end the day. Tomorrow is restocking day. You know how long those days are.”

Jace peered down into her bowl in defeat. “Okay…”

“I suggest you do the same, colt. Tomorrow I want you doing chores till either your back brakes or you leave. If you think I care about any of your disabilities, you can go and shove that broom up your plot. As long as you’re living under MY roof, on MY land, and inside MY house, you work for me full time. You got that, Sunshine?”

“Yes, sir.” Kaff fidgeted in his seat. “That much, I will keep promise.”

“Good.”

“...and he just walked in and gave you that letter?”

“Yes, though I question his reasoning. The man was rather discreet with personal information.” The glow of lanterns covered the officer’s tent. A captain sat with a cup of tea in his palms, in front of him laid a map of the Americas. The table held two other officers that had started to show loose skin and graying hair.

Another officer began filling tobacco in his pipe smoke, lighting it with a burned paper. “Surely you kept him out of trouble with the other soldiers?” A long puff of smoke escaped his lips. “He once served me, and I know he would not stand with more than one opponent in his way. Nevertheless, I envied you having him, Ambrose”

Ambrose sipped his tea. “I do, though he seemed to have made friends with a noble’s disowned. What was that lad’s name? Blue? Whatever it was, the disowned, by King George’s crown, was bent on keeping the valet safe. For what reason, it is also beyond me.”

A man with the most decorated overcoat began twirling his walking cane on his seat, unentertained by the conversation. “For Hell’s sake, stop puffing those things in my face, Smithley! Your canon batteries produce less smoke and damage than that chamberpot-smelling piece in your mouth.”

“I will stop this habit once you stop using a pike as a cane.” Smithley gestured his pipesmoke towards the walking cane.

With a grimace, he impaled the ground with the cane, leaving it perfectly vertical and making a mouse squeak its last breath. “Over mother’s dead body.”

“Then we’re at an impasse, Claxton.” Smithley began eying the map, a piece of parchment in his hands while he kept smoking. “We can finally cross off Montcalm-Gozon from our list of unwanteds. A shame that he killed the valet and the disowned. It was nice having him serve us tea in these meetings.”

Ambrose ran a hand through his long and messy hair. “I particularly favored his skill in barbery. The cuts he did made me feel ten years younger.”

“Be silent with your whining, Smithley, Ambrose. He’s only one ancillary.”

“As if you do not miss sparring with him. Be truthful, did you enjoy someone beating you in sword duels?” He puffed another wind at Claxton, mocking him both verbally and physically.

Ambrose set his cup down on the table. “All right, enough of these nonsenses. Let us focus back to our plans to be rid the Americas off of those white-coated sorry excuses for surrender flags. The damned fools from the colonies only left three bloody officers to organize a half-assed brigade...”

“Sssh, Mister Kaffee, wake up.” Jace shook Kaff’s shoulder ever so gently.

“Huh? Yes, whatever is the matter?” Kaff awoke with a startle, squinting his eyes from the room’s light.

“It’s four in the morning. You should make yourself look busy for Pa. He’ll pour coffee on you if you don’t. And I ain’t keen on letting him tell stories of how he woke up Coffee with a gallon of coffee.”

He gave out a yawn. “Why so early, Jace?”

“We don’t want none of the good stuff to be out when we hit the shop for supplies.”

Kaff heaved himself out of bed, rubbing his face. “Fair enough. Though, I’m used to waking at five.” In truth, five was probably late for him to wake. Some of the masters he had had made very specific orders on what to do each morning. Of which, one was serving breakfast in bed while bathing them and reading their mail in a scottish accent. He couldn’t say that he was underpaid, however.

“Why so early, Kaff?”

He giggled to himself at the repetition, before answering, “I was a valet.”

Kaff took a personal craft from the side of the bed, attaching it to his left leg. It was surprising what that roll of sticky paper could accomplish with the fiberless broom. His hooves even prevented splinters when he broke it down!

Jace gave a hoof out for Kaff, which he gladly took. “Oo, you handle those fancy carriages when the important ponies get out, right?”

Kaff began walking around the room with two hind hooves, abandoning the idea of using all fours. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how one saw it, he was quite small for a pony, so the height difference was not all that bad. He almost stood a full head taller than Jace.

“Not quite, imagine a personal assistant, though more personal with the assisting.” Kaff held the door open for Jace. “Valets do an assortment of tasks for the master. We’ve to be there for them, and do whatever it takes to make their life easier. Those things could range from anything between serving them food to shaving their personals.”

“W—what!?” Jace took a step away from Kaff, looking at him with a blush and stutter. “What kind of ponies grow fur so much in their nethers, to need regular trimming!?”

“It’s... I was exag—”

“Gasp Is it because Germaneighers are so thick with them fur coats? If that’s the reason...” She took another step further.

“Oh, over with it, Jace. Let us return our focus. Speaking of which, what shall I be doing?”

Jace left the room, motioning for Kaff to follow. As she guided him through the building, he glanced over the interior. Not many decorations were to be seen. Only wooden flooring and the occasional white lanterns were there to greet them. Though, there was one askew painting of a potted fern. Of all plants, why did the painter choose a fern?

“Pa said you should just help me with the heavy lifting when we head on over to the shop, but I think you can help sort out our stocks with some fancy mathematics.”

“Good show, Jace. May I ask what business we are in?”

“Darn, I forgot, didn’t I?” Jace opened a door, revealing a room full of boxes and large white blocky containers. The blocks let out coldness that chilled Kaff to the bone as Jace hung onto the door handle, hugging it. “We’re a bar, or coffee house. It mostly depends on how Pa’s feeling at the moment.”

He let himself into the storage room, finding that most of the shelves were still full. A few packs of fish still seemed untouched in the corner inside one of the white blocks. “What about recipes? What sort of refreshments do you serve?”

“We serve the kinds of stuff that Ma brought over with her from Bat-Avia. She had a noggin like an elephant!”

“Hmm.” He pushed boxes and packages on the racks to view deeper. “Quite, do you have a list of the usual supplies?”

Jace sat on one of the barrels of rum that sat all over the room, a few noticeably empty. “Here. Don’t mind the barrels. Only Pa usually finish them off, so don’t count them as our monthly supplies.”

Kaff looked the list over, doing a double take as he finished reading. How could it be so short? It mostly consisted of various items that would be found in normal cafes and bars, not a coffee house with a Dutch East Indies theme.

Once more, he examined the list, the number of ingredients missing giving surprise. “How can there be no gingers in here? Or palm oil? Or coconut milk? These are the core of Batavian coffee shops.”

“Well… the recipe book got burned when we tried to use it.” She averted eye contact, and spoke with the pace of a sloth. “And only Ma knew them by heart.”

“And you did not question that there were some boxes right there,” Kaff pointed a hoof at a comically dark corner of the room. “that had some strange ingredients leftover from heavens know what?”

“Pa told me to ‘forget the past,’ so I listened with both ears up and wide,” Jace said as she stroke her raised ears with her hooves.

He glanced back to the shelves, sighing. “But, I assume you still have the book, since you could make out part of it?”

...serve with a two biscuits and a cup of milk...

It took time, but he finally rewrote the first few recipes from what was barely able to be distinguished as a book. It was mostly the common items at the front, so he could experiment in implementing the recipes later. Nevertheless, he was pleased with the results. Maybe he should make a hardcover version later on, to make sure it could withstand most of the kitchen’s hazards.

Jace looked over his shoulders. “Nifty wing writing, Mister Kaff!” Did he use his wings? He was sure that he utilized hands when making use of that quill. Least enough, he kept his penmanship.

“Sekoteng, bajigur, bandrek… yup! These are definitely things in Ma’s book! We should definitely try cooking these up later.”

“Most assured.” Kaff glanced outside the window of the restaurant’s dining room, the sun barely over the horizon and birds still atop their nests in slumber. “I had calculated the amount we need based on the list you gave me earlier. We should probably take a visit to that shop now.”

“Then let’s leave before Pa’s back from his jog. It’ll be a nice surprise for him.” With saddlebags on her back, Jace was ready for a morning walk. A noticeable skip was in her trot as she made her way to the door, ushering for Kaff to follow. As Jace locked the door behind him, he took in the sight that was Canterlot.

London and Berlin had little hope of competing with this city’s beauty. It was all so clean, so… purple. How could they possibly afford that much purple dye? The colors alone would cost Berlin its yearly tax to cover.

Across the road was a pony was cleaning the streets off of nature’s foliage, the words Public Service boldly proclaimed on his shirt. The pony whistled a merry tune as he swept away with his broom.

All around him, the ground was paved with bricks, though they still left room for trees and gardens to grow. Not a stench was present in the air, as the road was free of waste. No beggar to be seen, only the occasional citizen mingling about their dawn. None but collared pets roamed the streets, strays being nonexistent in the city. These ponies placed much attention to their environment.

The walk was in relative silence. Jace could see that Kaff had rathered admiring the scenery than to prefer a conversation. Though before they knew it, they were already at the shop front.

“This here’s where we usually go for our supplies. The pony running this place is an old friend of Pa’s.” A jingle of bells sounded as Jace opened the door.

In front of them laid the register, a path clearly made so that the cashier could view anyone entering. On both sides of the shop were rows upon rows of shelves and long tables. Every furniture was organized in a fashion that if a customer wanted something, they were required to see all other products first. It was a labyrinth of a store, made by a person with knowledge of marketing.

“Well hello there, little lady. Back for your weekly shopping?” A pony greeted from the counter, his voice having the pace of a con-artist. His orange coat accentuated the clearly fake mustache on his muzzle. He tipped his hat at Kaff. “My, my, who’s this handsome devil? Your new coltfriend, I presume?”

“He ain’t, he’s just a… new employee. Say hi to Kaff, Mister Sales.”

Sales waited no time in shaking Kaff’s hooves, be it with much vigor. “Fabulous! You look like a pony straight out of the country club!”

“Uhh… yes, thank you. I go as Kaff, and you are?”

“Sales, Marked Sales the third! Son of Marked Sales the second! Father of Marked Sales the fourth!”

Kaff peered into the pony’s eyes, seeing untold horrors on the other side. Was that the Underworld he just spotted?

Jace reached into her saddlebags, pulling out the list Kaff had made. “We’ve got some extras to buy for the shop. Hopefully, these things’ll bring in more ponies.”

“Yes… yes… fantastic!” He smiled as he went through the list. “Though, sorry to say, some of these things I need to order from Manehattan. Rice flour and buffalo milk aren’t exactly things in demand.” That was not surprising. In the Spice Islands, even Kaff had a hard time finding buffalo milk. Traders never saw the commodity as profitable.

“But, you do have most of the things in that there list on stock now, right?” Jace rubbed her hooves together slowly in expectation.

“Of courses we do! Here at Sales’ Absolutely Literally Everything Store, we cover absolutely and literally everything your household needs on a daily basis!”

“Sales, you’ve said that since I was still in diapers. It’s the one line that made me think of you whenever I hear the word ‘absolutely’ and ‘literally.’ Quit it.”

“Then that means the conditio— I mean mantra works!” Jace was about to protest, before Sales slammed his hoof hard on the list, still keeping the big, creepy smile on his salespony face. If Kaff knew any better, he’d say Sales did a good job of changing topics. “Hey, how are you going to pay for these? The only thing keeping me from hiring debt collectors is your father’s petrifyingly horrible stare.”

It seemed that Kaff wasn’t the only one that thought of it as stone-inducing.

“Please, Sales.” Jace placed her elbows on the table, and held Sales’ hoof. “You and Pa hadn’t been a stranger since kindergarten! Do this for him, he’s been out of it, and I don’t know what’ll happen if he just gives up.”

Sales retreated his hoof from Jace’s grasps. He turned his back towards the two as he muttered something about business and useless friendship incoherently.

A minute was spent in contemplation, before he huffed, “Fine, fine! But you owe me a favor, little missy. I’m only doing this because I pity Noholds Barred. Now, wait here.” He disappeared into the backroom, stomping on his merry way.

Kaff raised an eyebrow at Jace for the ‘Noholds Barred’ part, and she mouthed ‘Pa’, which caused Kaff’s mouth to ‘ohh’.

The name was foreign to him, though it somehow felt fitting for that stallion. One of the things Holds must have hated about Kaff was him never asking for a simple name. He shouldn’t forget basic manners now, not when his future depended on how he faired with this family.

What will he do here? He sure as Frederick the Second’s greatness won’t be getting a position as a nobles’ right hand. Not until he got the reputation to show for it. With all the marvels this city possed, it would be a hefty task to find a place to give oneself meaning. Kaff had no aptitude other than serving. Sure, he could try and hogwash his way into a profession, but intrigue is a world more complex than politics.

What of culture? Serving wine before appetizers could be a cardinal sin for all he knew. And from history, he knew that Inquisitors weren’t ones to be expected.

Perhaps he should enroll in school once again. Though, a man in his late twenties would be a most unusual sight at non-university educational facilities.

This reminded him of something.

That colorful box of ‘detergent’ on the other end of the store was not that hard to make out, he needn’t even to squint to see it. Pastries yards away smelled nicer than what he could recall, the strawberries ever so fresh to his nose. Sales’ hoofsteps were audible from the other room, a few of his rants almost recognizable.

He had to make sure. “Jace, would you like to guess my age?”

Both her ears raised up. “Sure is a weird way for you to make conversations, but I’ll take a shot. And if you’re just wanting to know mine, it’s seventeen.”

She began circling around him. Her eyes went up and down as her hoof poked at odd places. For whatever reason, she even came close, and took a sniff right behind his ears. He shivered as a chill went down his spine.

With a plop, she sat down like a bunny, pointing a hoof at Kaff. “I’ll be darned if you ain’t twenty!”

If Kaff ever meet the Devil, he’d be sure to pucker up and give him a frenchy.

Author's Note

Disclaimer: What characters say in this story does not reflect on my personal views as a person on whatever matters this story discusses and talks of. If this story in any way offends you, please know that it is not my intention to do so.

Happy reading!