Pear Harvest

This town is so droll.

Around you, the marketplace is a bustling hub of activity. Earth ponies go about their day—shopkeepers calling out their wares while customers browse from stall to stall. The smell of baked goods fills the air as does the sound of laughter and conversation. A few pegasi fly by overhead, carrying saddlebags laden with supplies.

As happy as the whole place looks, you are here against your will. if it were up to you, you’d be back on the farm, trying to avoid as much work as possible. Instead, Pear Butter decided that after you got something to eat, she was going to send you into town, accompanied by her spawn. Upon arriving, they had proceeded to set up some kind of small stand of apples and apple-based accessories right next to a large fountain located in the middle of town.

You don’t know why the sign says ‘Bright Mac’s Apples’ though. Wasn’t the name of the farm Sweet Apple Acres?

Did they steal the stand from some poor schmuck, or are you minding it for somepony that couldn’t even be assed enough to come out here?

…

Whatever.

Still, this location benefits you, and you stretch out happily across the cool stone that forms the lip of the fountain’s pool. Hooves behind your head, you watch the clouds float by as you absentmindedly chew on a stick of cinnamon that is left over from your meager breakfast.

And a meager breakfast it was. Pear must be trying to starve you.

Applesauce, toast, and water? By Discord’s cosmic nards, what kind of breakfast is that? You’ve had better breakfast options from the guards.

Teeth digging into the stick, you hum tunelessly to yourself. The spray from the fountain feels oddly good against your coat, despite the fact that the day isn’t overly warm. In fact, you can easily see yourself managing to take a nap right here with very little difficulty.

Not that you’ll be able to, even if you really wanted to.

You have an observer.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the orange filly shooting you annoyed glances in between her attempts to catch the attention of ponies hurry past. She tries calling out them, tries flagging them down, even tries moving out in front of them, but nothing seems to work. The more and more ponies seem to ignore her, the more and more frustrated she seems to become.

It’s when her latest attempt results in the ponies moving across the road that she finally snaps. Stalking back to the stand, she glares up at you, her chin barely coming up to the top of the stone lip.

“Are ya just gonna lie there all day or are ya actually goin’ help out?” she asks, and it takes you a moment to figure out what she just asked. Like, seriously, what’s with that accent?

Rolling the cinnamon stick around to the other side of your mouth, you close your eyes. “I am helping. I’m staying out of the way.”

“That ain’t helpin’!” the filly snorts, stomping her hoof angrily. Her brother just silently watches from his place behind the stand.

“Of course it is,” you reply. “I don’t know the first thing about selling apples, so I’d just get in the way and scare customers away. You don’t want that, do you?”

“Ma said ya were supposed tah help us,” the filly whines, “yet ya haven’t done a single thang since we got here!” You open your mouth again to give her another bullshit excuse, but she grabs you by the balls with the next one. “Ah’m gonna tell ma when we get back that all ya did was slack off!”

Buck. That… might actually be an issue. If the little snitch actually goes to mommy, there’s no way that Pear Butter is going to believe you over her own terror. That means you actually have to do something or face the consequences.

…

Or do you?

Slowly, a grin spreads across your muzzle as you formulate a plan in your head. This… this could actually work. Well, if she’s actually as naive as you think she is. Otherwise, she’ll see right through this, but come on. She’s a foal.

Pulling the cinnamon stick from your mouth, you sit up. “You’re right.”

The filly is in the process of opening her mouth to argue when her mind finally process what you’ve said. She pauses, before giving you a suspicious look. “Ah am?”

“Yes, you are,” you say as you swing about and climb down from the lip. “Your mom sent me out here to help you out, and that’s what I should be doing. So, tell you what, here’s what’s going to happen.” You point the cinnamon stick at her while you outline your scheme. “You and you’re brother are gonna stay here and mind the stand, okay?”

Her eyes narrow while adjusting her cowboy hat. “And what are ya going tah be doin’?”

You point the stick off into the distance. “I’m going to be going over there, to the other side of town.”

“That’s not helpin’!” she shouts quickly.

“Of course it is,” you huff. “Let me explain. I’m going over there to do the most important part of the job. Getting the customers.”

“What do ya mean?” she asks, cocking her head to the side. This causes her hat to flop to the side, and she quickly readjusts it. The entire time this is going on, her brother has just been observing from the side.

“The reason you can’t get any of these ponies to stop and buy something is that they already know what they want,” you lie through your teeth. “I’m going to go across town to find some ponies that aren’t shopping. Catch ‘em when they’re off guard. The key to getting customers is making them want to stuff in the first place, see?”

“No,” the filly says as she gives you a flat look.

“Trust me, this will work,” you say, waving a hoof about. “They do this all the time in Canterlot. Advertising and such. Get the customers to want your product before they get to the marketplace, and you’ll have an easier time selling your stuff. Make sense?”

The filly blinks up at you, her eyes almost going cross-eyed as she tries to wrap her head around what you just said. After a moment, she falls back onto her flank. “Ah… guess?”

“Just watch. You’ll see that I’m right in a little bit.” You start to leave, only to pause to glance back over your shoulder at her. “That is… if it’s alright with the little taskmaster.”

This causes her to bite her lips and look off to the side, an uncertain look on her face. “Ah… ah guess if it’ll help the stand…”

“That’s the spirit!” you chirp before turning and heading off down the street. You try to make your movements look as purposeful as possible until you reach the end of the road, at which point you duck behind a building.

With the brats out of sight, you snicker to yourself. “And we just blew the popsicle stand.” Spitting the thoroughly chewed cinnamon stick into a nearby bush, you swagger off, ready to enjoy your free day.

But what to do first?

…

Eh, you’ll figure it out as you go along.

With no real destination in mind, you wander down the street, peering in the shop windows as you pass by. You make note of interesting places, even if they are far and few between. A quill and sofa store, shoeing and blacksmith building, and even a joke shop. You make sure to pay extra attention to a winery you come across, making a mental note to possible pay it a visit later.

A sticky-hoof discount might be in order.

You’re so wrapped up in your planning that you aren’t paying attention what’s in front you. Without warning, you something slams into your shoulder hard, causing you to almost fall. As you stagger sideways, a snide voice calls out. “Watch where ya goin’, airhead!”

Spinning around, you glare at three unicorn foals. One of them, an overweight colt with a dark green coat, grins at you, clearly the one that ran into your shoulder as he walked passed. The other two—a small brown colt and a thin, tannish filly—snicker at their friend’s action.

“You should apologize to my friend here,” the brown colt says. “It’s rather rude of you to walk into him like that.”

Grinding your teeth, you shoot back. “Well, pardon me, your royal highness. Do you want me to shine his plot while I’m at it?”

This causes the trio to pause. The chunky colt looks angry, as does the filly, but the dirt-brown colt’s eyes narrow before they dart up to your forehead. A moment later, they wide in surprise.

“Wait a moment,” he mutters. “You’re a unicorn.”

You deadpan at him. “What gave it away?”

“You aren’t from around here, are ya?” he asks, ignoring your sarcasm. “I haven’t seen your face around town before, and we know everypony. You just move ‘ere?”

“What it to you? You in charge of the census or something?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

The colt chuckles, but there’s no humor in his eyes. “Nah, not like that. It’s just… it’s not every day we see a new pony show up in the backwater town. Especially not a noble unicorn such as yourself. Tell me, friend, where ya from?”

You eye him for a moment before replying simply. “Canterlot.”

This causes the filly’s eyes to light up.

Dirt colt whistles. “Canterlot, eh? Now that’s something.” He clears his throat before strutting forward and offering you his hoof. “Sorry about the rude introduction. Let’s start over. My name is Money Taker.”

You stare at the hoof for a moment before slowly reaching out and giving it a shake, giving your name in return. He has no strength behind the grip, and you quickly break off contact with him.

“This lovely thing is Tree Shaker,” Money Taker continues, motioning with his head to the filly, who giggles and bats her eyelashes at you. “And that is Ground Breaker.” The pudgy colt grins and nods his head stupidly. “And, well… ya could say we’re part of the upper echelon of this town. Ya can call us ‘Takes, Shakes, ‘n Breaks’, if ya’d like.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say cooly.

“Aw, don’t be that way, friend,” Taker says. “Like I said before, this was just a huge misunderstanding. How about we make up for it by showing ya around, seeing as you’re new here and all.”

You start to decline the offer, only to pause. It wouldn’t be half bad to have someone who knew the place show you around, instead of you just wandering about aimlessly. They might be able to point out something that you missed or simply overlooked. Besides, you don’t think you have to worry about them too much; all of them appear to be a least a few years younger than you. Even with the nullstone ring, you could probably take even the tubby one in a fight.

“Alright,” you say, returning Takers grin with a matching one of your own. “Lead the way, friend.”

~ ~ ~ ~ > > < < ~ ~ ~ ~

After a few hours, you are definitely happy with your decision. Not only do the trio show you around town, but they show you the best places to hang out. Like just outside the candy store where they can use their magic to steal candy off the window display whenever the door opens.

Or a corner just outside the marketplace that allows you to snag things from the bags of passing ponies without them noticing, and completely out of sight of the stands and stalls.

Or how to sneak into the theater through a side door so you can watch movies without having to pay for a ticket. And then how to acquire other ponies popcorn buckets and drinks so you can go get the free refills.

And—by far your favorite—how to snag a few bottles of booze out of the liquor store while Money Taker distracts the weird, tipsy-looking mare behind the counter.

“I can’t believe that worked,” you say, gasping for breath as the four of you hid behind a dumpster in a nearby alleyway.

“Yeah, well, that’s Luscious Grape for you,” Money Taker chuckles. “Easy to distract, easy to take advantage of, and if you’re quick enough and she doesn’t see you, she’ll never know they’re missing.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, come one. She’s got to notice that the bottles are missing.”

“Nope, she never does,” Taker says with a grin.

“But, doesn’t she do inventory or something?”

“Nope,” Tree Shaker chirps as she pops the cork out of one of the bottles. “Old Lush doesn’t do inventory, and seeing as she likes to sample her own wares, she just chalks it up to her drinking them.”

“We haven’t gotten caught yet!” Taker adds.

Ground Breaker nods quickly and lets out a weird, bark-like laugh.

“So, how many did we manage to get this time,” Taker asks, picking up a bottle of his own with his magic. He pops the cork as well before taking a swing of the deep violet liquid within.

“Four,” Shaker says as she passes one to Breaker. She gives you an annoyed look. “We could have gotten more, but this one didn’t help.”

“Well, sorry,” you huff. “Can’t exactly grab a bottle and run with only three hooves, and—” reaching up, you tap the nullstone ring with a hooftip “—magic is out of the question. Completely blocked.”

“So take it off then,” Shaker huffs. “What’s the point of having a fancy-looking ring if it blocks your magic?”

You sigh. “I can’t take it off myself. It’s enchanted.” Reaching up, you give them a demonstration. You grab the ring and give it a tug, only for a soft glow to surround it and your hoof slips off. A second attempt meets with similar results. “Somepony else has to take it off.”

“Well, fine. Here!” Standing up, Taker reaches for the ring, but you quickly lean your head back out of his reach.

“No way,” you say, covering it with your hoof. “You take that off and it sets off an alarm enchantment. One which will have the Guards on us faster than you can say ‘oops’.”

This causes Taker to freeze. “G-guards?”

“Yup,” you grunt as you grab your own bottle. “The guards in Canterlot put it on, and it’s not coming off for a while.” Grabbing the cork with your teeth, you yank it out with a satisfying ‘pop’. You spit it out before taking a good mouth of the liquid, only to wince. At first it tasted like really strong grape juice, but the aftertaste was something else.

By Discord, this is some of the cheapest-tasting alcohol you’ve ever pilfered.

“What did you do that got the Guard on you?” Shaker asked, staring at you with almost a look of reverence on her face.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you mumble before taking another swing.

Silence falls over the alleyway, all of you sitting there and enjoy your plunder. Taker and Shaker both sip at the bottles neatly, but Breaker guzzles from it, sending rivulets of purple dribbling down his chin and into his chest fluff.

“Well,” Taker says eventually, “magic or no, you’re still a unicorn. That makes ya one of us.” He thumps his chest with a hoof before hiccuping. “You’re one of us, and we stick together no matter what!”

“Through thick or thin!” Shaker says as she holds up her bottle.

Breaker follows suit and in the process splashing more liquid on himself.

“And that’s… that’s why I’m going to tell ya something,” Taker says. “We’ve got a plan tonight.”

“A plan? A plan for what?”

“Well, ya see… there’s this weird old cottage out in the Everfree which may or may not have some valuables inside that are just waiting for somepony to retrieve them.”

You give him a skeptical look. “A cottage? Out in the Everfree? With valuables?” When he nods, you scoff and roll your eyes. “Yeah, and I’m a pegasus.”

“No, really,” Shaker says, backing up her friend. “Some ponies say an old zebra hag used to live out there, but she croaked some years back. Messed up her own potion or something.”

“And she left behind all her possessions,” Taker continues.

“And nopony else has decided to go out and get them yet?” you ask.

Taker shakes his head. “Nope. See, ponies believe the place is haunted… cursed… whatever. So nopony has gone out there to clean it up. So that means everything is exactly as she left them, just waiting for somepony to go and claim them.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And that’s what you plan on doing tonight?”

“Exactly!” Taker says, pointing a hoof at you. “There’s bound to be a lot of good stuff in there. So, how about it? You in?”

You pause with your bottle partways to your lips. After a moment of consideration, you shrug. “Okay, sure. I’ll tag along.”

“Great!” Taker cheers, slapping you on the back. “That’s great! Alright, so, we’re meeting up at the old windmill just south of town. The one right on the edge of Sweet Apple Acres. Just get there around midnight, okay?”

“Yeah,” you say with a grin. “That won’t be a problem at all.”

~ ~ ~ ~ > > < < ~ ~ ~ ~

The orange filly and her brother are packing up their stand when you finally wander back into the marketplace. They don’t notice you at first, but then the filly spies you out of the corner of her eye. She looks up as you approach, and she doesn’t appear too happy.

“There ya are!” she huffs, jumping up onto the empty stand so that she can be eye-to-eye with you. “It didn’t work!”

You blink. “What didn’t work?”

“Ya said ya were goin’ off to get us more customers!” she squeaks. “It didn’t work! We didn’t get any extra customers after ya left!”

Oh, right. She’s talking about your excuse to get out of there. You totally forgot about that.

Shrugging your shoulders, you try to give her your best apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I tried. There was nothing more I could do about it. Apparently nopony wanted apples today.”

She continues to glare at you for a moment before sagging. Hopping down off the stand, she sighs heavily. “Ah guess…”

“There’s always tomorrow,” you say.

“Yeah… tomorrow,” the filly says, still dejected. She begins to walk back towards the farm, her head hung low and her hat hiding her face.

You watch her go with some confusion. Why was she so upset about not selling her apples? They’re apples. There aren’t many ponies that would buy a lot of apples to begin with. It’s not a high demand item, right? At least in Canterlot it wasn’t.

Besides, this is a small town too, so really, not selling a lot of something like apples would be expected.

You watch her go for a moment longer before shrugging and pushing the issue from your mind. It wasn’t your concern, and you aren’t going to waste time on it. Instead, you turn and look at the brother. He’s just watching you silently.

…

Come to think of it, have you heard him speak yet?

Is… is he mute?

After a few seconds, you snort. “What?”

He just shakes his head slowly—almost disappointedly—before following after his sister.

“That’s what I thought,” you mutter under your breath. You’re still for a moment before sighing. “Better get going before they get home and mommy notices I’m missing.” Sniffing, you glance around the empty marketplace one last time before you too start following after the pair.

Not before you check around the stalls for any lockboxes that had been left behind.